LINES AND VERSES

Age is But Number

2020-05-10T10:14:00.001+01:00

Age is the number of years between birth and death. Experience is the sum of lessons – well or badly –learned. It is easiest to assume that experience is proportional to age, only it isn’t. One could be elderly and still plain.

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With a wider exposure, a younger man will have more tales than an elderly one who is confined to a certain space, a simple culture and a lot of mental limitation. And with more trials, failures and successes; the young would have more useful offers to make.

One of the greatest mistakes of Africa is the false notion that people would have more to offer simply because they are old. Actually, one may have more to offer in any given area because they have dedication in such area and not necessarily a long time but quality time.

A man can father a child and irredeemably fail at being Dad even though he had the ability to ejaculate, the requisite age to get married but has not applied himself in the direction of raising a child. In the same vein, an older person should not be a leader simply because they have the required age.

In many African countries especially ours, age can sometimes be the determining factor rather than required experience: one has to attain a certain minimum age, even with very little education, because it is assumed that they would be better respected for their age. Another is that it might offend the older generation to take instructions from a younger person.

While I recognize the tradition of respect that we have, I do believe that a lot of the times it does act as a wedge to progress, more often when it comes to leadership. Less often leaders are born than they are made. When leadership becomes a birthright, stagnation is entrenched and when it is made something for the elderly, the best of a nation will be made to rot away while waiting for the ancients to die.

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Why It Is Wrong For Kids To Their Teachers Auntie or Uncle

2020-04-25T22:06:00.002+01:00

Growing up in the eighties and nineties, teachers where generally addressed as ‘teacher’. And, yes, at some point it was ‘master’ or ‘Mr. A’ and miss or Mrs. B, as it may have applied, but somewhere along the line all that vanished. One cannot say for sure when, but this phenomenon fashioned and championed by, I think, the burgeoning private schools in Nigeria prevailed, and the dwindling public schools eagerly toed in line as the government establishment lost its value system.

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It is a subtle, seemingly well-intended gesture that is quickly translated to respect for elders, but one that realistically amounts to mis-education in all appropriate senses. How do you make a child call total strangers ‘uncle’ and ‘auntie’ in schools of all places – the very first place where they are expected to be properly educated?

Relationship: How to change your spouse

2020-04-21T20:01:00.001+01:00

One of the most difficult undertakings one can attempt in a relationship is to venture into changing the individuality of one’s partner; not only is this soul-sapping, it could be the very reason that relationship will meet an un-desirous end. Except one wants to live in perpetual frustration, they should not venture into that changing their partner – at least not directly.

This is not to say that people do not change, they do. But people change out of conviction on things that are in line with their inner beliefs. People change because they do not want to relearn certain lessons of life. People change for greater purpose, when their soul is rightly touched. Some change could also be out of emulation.

People are most likely to change because of how you live around them. And since people are most averse to coercive or manipulative antics, it is better to be gently persuasive, otherwise resentment would be stirred up, or outright pretense activated for those that may benefit from it. The worst situation a relationship ever experience is when a partner resolves to pretending as a way of avoiding confrontation.

Related: How to maintain a sound mind

Never put your partner in a position where they’ll have to mirror what you want to see rather than who they are. Do not let them learn how to give you some false satisfaction. For when the fuel a relationship runs on is counterfeit, the joy will be false and short-lived. The inevitable destination is the rocks.

Rather than change your partner’s nature, you should instead focus on supporting them in their chosen endeavor and learn to correct them only where necessary. This will help summon the right spirit that will subsequently allow them to create that room essential for healthy cohabitation. Relationship is actually about creating such toxic free environment for two and the lot that may follow.

Related: Does Love Work Over Distance?

However, if you must change your partner, you must first start by living that change. You must be seen as an embodiment of that which you desire or utter. You do not necessarily need to preach it. Naturally they will see how beneficial the energy you carry is, and since they’re all about your shared happiness they will, at their own pace, compliment your efforts.

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Ben's Diary (1)

2019-10-27T16:37:00.001+01:00

Dozie and I were still laughing over Patricia’s remarks about four guys like us hanging out all by themselves every weekend’s nights, that there was something ‘not straight’ about it. Darlington was going to say we should leave without Goke and his languid ass. Then everyone suddenly went hush. She had what it took to stop any man in his tracks and she knew it. We must all have seen her at the same.

“Hi.” She said to Darlington.
Darlington had an enviable gift: they all talk to him first; even if there were a million of us.
“Helloo beauty, what can we do you for?” His ladies’ man smile beamed, and his right hand instinctively reached for his collar, twitching the tie as he stood up. He possibly forgot he was only the visitor in our office.

“Stephanie, this way,” Patricia called at the young lady.
“Oh, hi Pat,” the beauty didn’t seem to have noticed Patricia’s presence earlier. She also seemed genuinely relieved and waved Darlington down, “I was going to ask of,” she pointed coquettishly in Patricia’s direction, “her.” She said and then sauntered to the reception to meet Patricia who in turn did not seem quite enthralled by her presence. There was something arrogant about her manners and I have an instant dislike for haughty girls, beautiful or not, but this one? They shared a few words and the pretty young lady was allowed to go into Mr. Gbenga’s office. This is not a rarity when you got to knowing our boss.

“Who is she, Pat?” I asked rather impatiently.
“Mr. Gbenga’s friend.” She said rather casually.
“What?” I looked at my men and saw the same dampened expression registered on their faces.
“What kind of friend?” Dozie asked incredulously.
“You might want to go in and ask him, pastor.” Pat retorted. Dozie, Patricia, Goke and I were colleagues, but for some imprecise reasons being one each other’s appeared to define the working relationship between those two.
“God, but isn’t that girl younger than his be his last daughter,” I exclaimed. Darlington was suddenly as humble as a lamb pulled out of a pot of cold pap.
“Isn’t that shocking?” Dozie said in anguish.
“But why won’t these old men just leave our young girls alone, they have lived their time naa,” Darlington lamented.
But I knew there was more to it.

And just like I thought, this was going to become another big discussion, since guys don’t gossip.

To follow this post:

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Does Love Work Over Distance?

2019-06-04T12:51:00.003+01:00

“Distance is not barrier to things of the spirit.”

Love is spiritual. It is an experience that permeates the body (physical), and the soul (spiritual); therefore, distance should not be a barrier to love.

When two people are genuinely in love, they operate on the same frequency. Their thoughts are often in synch. Sometimes they share a dream. There are times when one will pick up a phone to dial the other only for the other’s call to come in, perhaps because they’re on the same thread of thoughts or feelings. There are also times when one wants to say a thing and the other voices the exact words intended by the other or they may even utter the words in unison as if it were planned.

Out of sight may mean an absence of the body physical body, but does that explain spiritual consequences, like soul tie? As explained above, a soul can be tied to the other. Two individuals of dissimilar origins can become soul mates through love sharing. The can begin to function almost as one. There are events where such couple does not survive the demise of one of the partners.

There is agape love, the open love, which is selfless and pure, which gives to any and all without expectation. However, the love of a couple in a relationship is not one way, it is largely give and take, as no amount given by one can make up for the other’s lack of giving. It is the kind of love that requires some sort of balance to remain healthy. It really does not matter what one gives, but does it truly satisfies the other? It may be just a hug in return. Though it does also require sacrifice, it is often better when both individuals make conscious efforts to look after each other.

There are times when a person falls in love with someone who does not feel the same way they do. They give away so much affection. At times, the object of this affection may pretend or struggle to reciprocate. Obviously such union will never work, even at intimacy, not to mention over distance.

But if both individual truly and unreservedly love one another, they will always hear the other’s heart’s call. Do you know that human spirit gives out distress call when in suffering? Only those whom they love and who truly loves them back can hear (maybe say feel) such call. I know of a couple who will often reach out to each other at such times irrespective of the distance in-between them.

Yes, love works over distance. This does not mean that there won’t be temptations, but then what could be distracted when the hearts are connected? People who are truly in love with each other find intimate associations with others who are not their partner unfulfilling and totally out of order. They find it absolutely desecrating to share their bodies with some other persons. It truly doesn’t matter if their partner is available or not.

So when someone says that “distance” is the problem with their relationship, then know they are not wholly in love with whomever they may have professed to love vice versa, which instantly makes them prone to the pressures of temptation.

Sometimes people who fell for the thunderstorms of mere chemistry and artificial attributes of the opposite sex would also lay claims to love but it takes just a little time for that to dissipate whatever flesh of pleasure it once held.

However, it is not advisable for partners to stay away from each other for too long – say many months at a stretch or even years, because there are also times when the flesh desire warmth of the other’s flesh, their hug, their kiss, or even their mere presence in the same space.

Every period of separation must be filled with constant communication. At times such periods tend to recondition the core feelings of the relationship. Some relationships have experienced rejuvenation after such short breaks as they give room for imaginations and deeper cravings.

The truest test of the strength of love in any relationship comes when a partner is away. If one feels the urge to do something the other shouldn’t know about then they’re in a wrong relationship.

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Need For A Vibrant Opposition

2019-03-06T22:23:00.002+01:00

One would be fair to conclude that the real reason for different political parties in a democracy is because there are diverse points of views, different perceptions to governance, and ultimately, there’s supposed be freedom of choice of association, therefore it it’s completely uncivil to demand that an individual or a group abandon their convictions for another’s, even if that one is their host. In a more saner clime, people convince – not just with facts – but palpable course of action. The peoples' follower-ship are won.

In a democracy, an election is won or lost – the process does not end there! Democracy is a two-pronged approach to governance; the party in power is checked by the ones in opposition. So, losing an election does not necessarily mean you are out of the system. While you may lose the presidency, you may have a majority in the house. And even if that does not happen, constructive and issue-based criticism can win you the people – it is about the people, isn’t ? The opposition should help save the people from the ineptitude and excesses of government.

To strive to build a democracy with a decimated opposition is to mock the very idea of democracy. When a people, for whatever reason, vote against a candidate or party, they have not done in disobedience to the state because a political party is not the state, no law has been broken, they have only shown to possess a different set of convictions, and must not be punished for doing so, rather a conscious and honest efforts are to be made to help them see the light If indeed they have strolled into dark path.

One of the worst afflictions of our Democratic system is the arbitrary switches of allegiance. Even the most informed in our society have become shamefully involved in the practice. This highlights the gross lack of principles that is norm. You don’t have to be connected to the center to make impact, if indeed you’re a leader with a vision, and pleeease – you’re not doing it for your people!

A vibrant opposition is good for our democracy. We must tolerate it. When everyone is expected to support a particular candidate, it is no longer a democracy, Google will help you see what that means. When we force people to vote according to your dictates because they live in your 'space', that too is not democracy. I get the feeling that we need to honestly decide what system of government we want to practice in this country because This too doesn’t seem to be going well.

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Padded Beauty

2018-08-27T07:37:00.003+01:00

It must be the lensed eyes,
Or the lightened teeth –
Oh it could be lashes you pick from your shirt;
But she’s got the beauty of a doll.

Ah – it’s not the silicon beneath
It must be the warmth of the remnant, remember?
So take a step forward, another back – swing with care.
You’ve got the cutest in the hall.

Do not wake with the dawn.
Pick out the Peruvian strands from the pillow.
Bask in the fragrance she'd left behind.
Then go on to see her next post on Snapchat.

Padded Beauty

2018-08-27T07:37:00.001+01:00

It must be the lensed eyes,
Or the lightened teeth –
Oh it could be lashes you pick from your shirt;
But she’s got the beauty of a doll.

Ah – it’s not the silicon beneath
It must be the warmth of the remnant, remember?
So take a step forward, another back – swing with care.
You’ve got the cutest in the hall.

Do not wake with the dawn.
Pick out the Peruvian strands from the pillow.
Bask in the fragrance she'd left behind.
Then go on to see her next post on Snapchat.

DEGREE FOR FANCY

2018-08-27T07:30:00.001+01:00

One of our least discussed tragedies aside from the notorious decades of military misadventures and the ostensible degradation of our democracy is the ‘miseducation’ of our population by the educational system.

Universally, for a person to reach their full potential in a chosen field of study, they need more than just the acquisition of ‘a degree’. They need to have studied in a field of interest. They need passion, passion that is born out of an inherent desire to aspire and achieve in that place of interest, and then, of course, thoroughly prepared teachings, because when the education is wrong, all else follow.

All our system seems to offer, in most cases, are mere certification with minimal or no impact; certifications that sometimes translate into nothing beyond the paper they are printed upon. There are engineers who will never invent or simply lack the capacity to understand the rudiments of their profession. There are lawyers who will never be called to bar, and if they are, would never appear in a court after the usual ceremony. There are doctors who have become certified murderers, whose mistakes are concealed by the system. There are computer scientists that only got to start working on computer systems after they’ve long left their institution of study, not as professionals, but as dummies. There are degree holders who will avoid every possible encounter with anything related to their discipline due to deep-seated resentment. They only retain the bragging right as ‘graduates.’

The simply reason is that they were never cut out for such discipline in the first instance. For someone who applied to study Medicine but is forced to study Food and Nutrition, life can be less than meaningful.

There are thousands, if not millions, of such unfulfilled persons crawling all over the place, in every sector of the economy; people who, in the depth of their souls, are ashamed of what they studied at the university. Some, by some stroke of luck have been able to navigate out of their hoisted misery by returning for another extended course or program. Many are still at it twenty years on. Many more will die never achieving their truest dreams. It’s such a labyrinth.

It is understandable that some people may key into the wrong passion from the unset of their lives due to inexperience and youthful exuberance, but when you have a system that does not even undertake counseling but arbitrarily dish out courses to young people, you will have the quality of graduates we have today.

However, a lot of parents are blameworthy too. This is a common and recognizable line: ‘just accept it, dear. There is no difference between a Geologist and an Economist, are they not all graduates? Just go and get the degree and start working instead of sitting at home.’

In this world we exist, that is logical.

Life Can Be A Little Simpler

2018-07-09T14:04:00.002+01:00

Life can be just a little less complex. One often wonders why most of the time people take life rather too seriously. It's a fact that things happen. Very bad things. In fact things that largely seem beyond our control. We lose the life we've worked for. We lose our loved ones. Basically, sometimes we go through all shades of dark days, that it would apparently seem as though one had been struck by a streak of bad luck that just wouldn't go away. But what if we unknowingly bring all that upon ourselves? What if all we needed to do all along was to stop, take a deep breath and change our thoughts?

One only needs a trial to realise that heavy burdens can be made light by a simple task of deliberately tampering the way we think and do things;from our work place, to our home and in our relationships, everything will begging to bear different results. The distance between success, of any kind, and what we call failure lies in the navigation of our thoughts. I prefer see life from this perceptive of peace of mind or the lack of it.

Every relationship, for instance, will work out fine if only the individuals realise that what they share takes the mutual participation of both to work and nothing less. If the only they communicated just a little more often than not. If only there is just a little more of forgiveness when one offends the other. If only one does does not think that the emotions of the other is less important. Most failed marriages and relationships have simply failed because of one or all of the above, only a lot fuss were made as though some more powerful external forces were to blame.

Some people live their lives like the tortoise. They diligently carry every modicum of their past issues along; into every new environment, into every relationships - their past shortcomings and bitterness become a standard by which every new thing in their life is set up. While some may carry their ancestral biases - experiences that aren't theirs; like some bad turn meted out on a parent by some one of a different extraction without a moment's pause to ponder why they have to deal so badly with some other individual because of the experience of another of a very different time.

Sometimes we think that God must hate us. We believe we're under some punishment by some divine powers over something we have or haven't done. That somehow God relentlessly follows us about just to ensure we have a really bad time, forgetting that we are creatures of habit, that once our mind is set on something over a period of time that it becomes character (or our reality) and that any character that does not produce results that are favourable to us becomes like dark halo around the head that we alone can attract. This will continue until we deal with our mind.

People become suicidal largely because they're too engrossed in the things around them rather than that within. Some because they've become too selfish with life and all they hope to achieve without taking failure into consideration. Failure is a part of life and anyone who tells you it's a bad still has a lot to see. When you develop the tenacity to succeed, reserve the capacity to absorb failure for it is only the part of a great if you can arise from the ashes and never be scared of going back to the drawing board. Everyone living has that marginal suicidal propensity, just don't feed it. And tell yourself you'll never use it. Envy, or jealousy can be the simply reason why one's life can remain a tiring rat race.

We waste useful energy bellyaching over other people's genuine progression. One of the many unhidden and yet illusive truths is that any project embarked upon out of envy will remain a huge struggle. Unless a thing is genuinely desired with good intent, it will never grant peace of mind. Take a moment and look at anyone you envy and see how they glide along, seemingly effortlessly while you crawl. That's because their desire is genuine so they never feel the work they put in. They're not in a competition.

It's okay to be angry but never go into a rage. Even while angry, it helpful to still watch one's words because after every storm there's calm and clarity. Think of that. Never have to hold your anger or hurt any longer than necessary because it soon begins to nibble at you, little by little until you can not recognise who you've become. It's better to say it loud and clear enough. Every long journey is better traveled light.

Genuinely saying `sorry` can sometimes seem like the hardest thing to do for some, and that's because it's only meant for the strong. Only the strong can apologise. The weak let their pompous ego take the wheel. Life can be lived simply if we only can shed some of our burdens. Each time a person says `sorry` to someone they have offended, they hand the offended over the burden. You set yourself free by acknowledging your shortcomings. Give it a try and see how light you become. It actually moves you a step higher than the receiver, no matter what the offense was. It doesn't matter if you will be forgiven. Do it anyway. And if there's a price to pay, you'll see you can afford it in the long run.

By Jude Ifeme
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Does Sex Make Lasting Relationships?

2017-10-25T12:20:00.001+01:00

The sensual touches, the kisses, the deep electrifying thrusts, the bursts of raw desire that you'd never want to end, the explosive climax. Orgasm. SEX is deep. In fact it is the closest to anyone can get to another.

However, this rousing sense of intimacy can also be false, momentary and can become alarmingly rueful. If not properly handled, sex can be blighting.

One of the most popular approach to love in human evolution is to surrender to the allures of sex; try to understand the other individual through their crotch rather than the many signals they send, presenting their other more stable needs. This is not to say that sex is not a vital need in a relationship.

When pursuing a long-term relationship immediate sexual satisfaction should not be the primary focus. When possible, it should be avoided in other to truly maintain the mental alertness to fully access the values and motives of each other.

Some people come into a new relationship totally broken by the previous one, they may not be ready for another relationship just yet because they do not posses the mental clarity to fully understand their new partner or even take the best decision for themselves. But with sex they will find themselves cruising into yet another hurtful relationship; hoping this new one will somehow rub-off the other.

Some marriages have been contracted on the grounds of pregnancy, others due to rape or loss of virginity, and bizarre as it may seem, some people have ended up married to those who had them infected with terminal diseases. In such cases, people have surrendered their lives to fate and such marriages, at best, are that of convenience rather than of love.

Such couples must at some point have realized that it wasn't love after all, and that sex can hardly be defined as love - but only a medium of expression sundry desires - they then go on hoping to somehow strike love along their marital journey. Many are not so lucky.

Many who overlook the many other needs of their intended spouse in favor of sex might some day wake up to discover they're married to some stranger because the time they should have used to understudy was instead focused on single aspect of the relationship. They also get to discover that no matter how exhilarating it was, that at some some point afterwards, the lusting will wane, the raging hormones will yield to reality. And that same fellow who never took his hands off might begin new adventures elsewhere or even become evasive upon sight of nudity. Sex had been confused with love.

I understand the need, drive and momentary desire for sex in us and the fleeting satisfaction it provides but we are truly not meant to have intercourse with every soul that comes across, just because they have sex appeal, even if we date them.

Reawakening

2017-10-01T08:15:00.001+01:00

I filled my heart with fears
Of right and wrong
For things that are not yet done.

I set my feet free from these shoes I have worn,
To shell my soul from the paths
I walk.

I feel your pulse once again;
The Phoenix given to death
Shall once reign.

Jude Ifeme

Finding The Bond

2017-06-20T13:42:00.001+01:00

My strongest addiction as a single was reading. Being alone was bliss and gave me ample time to devour as much literature as one could come by. I had very little care for what happened in other social spaces.
When I got married some years ago I had fears my lifestyle might have some effect on my family bonding, so I chose family. I found a great partner in my wife and have bonded excellently with my kids. But my love for the books and writing have suffered tremendously.
A few months ago, I decided to return to reading. If you were a reader you would know that if you've ever read a book that it has a way of reaching back to you whenever you saw the title.
Going through my shelve, I realized I could sense and recollect every book's content by a mere touch; these were old friends indeed. And it struck me I have not bought new ones in a while.
I have returned to reading, having made friends with the kids. I know they must sometimes wonder why Daddy suddenly has to stare for so long at these books nowadays.
"Daddy is reading," I would tell them whenever I had to cut my time with them to be with the books.
Today, my little girl (barely two years) walks in while I'm reading.
"Daddy are you reading?" She asks.
"Yes dear."
She quietly turns around and leaves. No hard feelings.
I am dazed by her show of understanding. I could hear her laughter as she plays with Grandma in the other room.
Somehow I can have my kids and my books. That's magic.

Tomorrow Is For The Old

2017-06-18T20:09:00.001+01:00

Our parents in their youthful moment
plundered our future;
they took it from thieving whitemen
and shared it amongst bent 'yesmen'.

They borrowed Her grammar;
the world applauded their ego,
while countrymen wasted fellows
on the streets that needed uniting.

We are raised to bury their sins.
Are we the wedge before their baying demons?
Never mind, tomorrow is still for the old.

1st Oct., 2002

A psalm from the keg

2017-06-08T07:08:00.000+01:00

Okon told them you died, Amasun also said you died; Tobe danced when he heard you died – Aba whispered to the ladies that you have died: It was only us that know people Who have known people, And have mastered the art of palm wine drinking, That could tell a sleep from a stupor. Jude Ifeme

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Crawl Back To Your Hell

2017-01-10T16:21:00.001+01:00

Men dying,
Women dying;
Children, women and men
Blown into bits before they could ask why.

Not the tears in our eyes,
Not the prayers in our minds;
Not the pleas of our entire
Voices will dowse your thirst for even more blood.

Now you know your guns can kill;
Your wasteful weapons of ill.
Now you know your sneeze can send shiver
Down our spines: now crawl back to your hell.

Photo credit

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5 Mistakes Young Men Make Before Marriage

2016-11-03T08:12:00.002+01:00

The success of every marriage is determined by the resolve of the individuals involved, what they know, and their willingness to implement. For the young man who intends to walk that path sooner or later, here are five proven ways not to attempt marriage.

Make unrealistic impression: It is natural for a young man to want to impress his lady. You want to let her see how refined you are; give her some nice treat so she can see how ‘right’ you are for her. It has something to do with the ego – yes, we all have some. Beyond that, a good impression helps to plane the path to a woman’s heart. But remember, when you make an impression you must have to live up to it. Never exude what you are not made of. A lady will only come to resent you the moment they get to realize you’re a fraud. Yes – even after she’s become your wife!

Go on a spending spree: Some men just cannot resist the urge to spend their way into a woman’s heart. Perhaps you think you are just not spending enough and that is why things are not flowing. Though a woman will appreciate it if you can provide for her, and possibly the family when you get to build one together, but do not splash the cash you do not have. Any woman that follows your cash will crash your heart once it stops to flow. A woman would rather know and marry a broke bloke than be with one who owned nothing he’d ever given her. Forget the ubiquitous materialistic tendencies you see, they are soon dumped for common sense when the time is right.

Keep it cool all the time: Yes, you are a gentle man – that’s ok. What about the other side? Everyone has one, so don’t pretend you haven’t. When you hide your temperament and how you truly feel about things, you will be setting up a time bomb. The thing about dating is that while we are it, we send out our best representatives: you send yours, she sends hers. However, in marriage the real persons clamber out of the works and will stay out 24/7. So let her know the ugly side, because if she married the nice guy and then the not-so-nice guy creeps out later on, there will be lots of trouble. If she got to meeting him much earlier, there will be a little less trouble.

Peep into every pant and hope to change in a snap: If there is any change you want to make at the testosterone level you’ll need to start, preferably, a year or two before getting married. So many guys make the mistake of trying to effect such change after their wedding date, and you must know that such a change takes a little bit of getting used to. So for that singular reason they mess up a lot of good things in their new life. Since marriage is a fix between two people alone, you might want to start with going on steady with her all alone, getting used a single item on the menu, before tying your life to hers. If she is not enough while dating she will never be enough in marriage.

Don’t talk about the future: when you get married the future will suddenly cease to be about you, your fancies and impulses. It will stop to be about those lone, crazy or complicated dreams of yours. This is because marriage entwines your destiny with another’s – and not just yours and hers but that of the kids that will result from such union, too. So don’t wait to get married before you discuss the future. It is important that you know if she is going your direction in life, because is she isn’t then a space will either not be enough or will be too hot for both of you.

Photo credit: michelephoenix

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A Letter To My Daughter

2016-10-21T12:16:00.000+01:00

One night seven years ago, I was filled with certain fatherly thoughts. I have always wanted to have a daughter but being single and still searching I decided to pen a letter to my unborn daughter - I mean - that was the closest I could get to being a father. Six years on, after two wonderful boys, I got meet my cute little girl. And as she turns one, I remembered this post buried somewhere in my blog. She's such a blessing!

Dear daughter,

As I look down on this blank, unlined paper waiting to get inscribed with ink, I could imagine an angelic face on the brink of making a transition into a world of many wonders. I want you to know that you have been loved already.

I could only imagine what it’s like over there on the other side, so I think you should consider it a fatherly advice and hold on to as much memory as you could while crossing over to this journey full of treachery and pain, hopelessness, and yet permeated with a lot of joy, and I hope you will come to add to its beauty.

It is a world of many influences. A world of riches and poverty, highs and lows, wisdom and folly, fame and shame: a world of immense prejudice and little justice. But it is also a world where you can be anything you want to be, if you don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! You are a woman, yes? The world expects a lot from your kind yet! So you are also awaited.

I want you to know you can do all that without letting your shoulders fall for once. I see you come with honor and dignity, and believe me, daughter; you can walk through all trials with dignity! And whenever you fail, I want you to smile and go to sleep but wake up the next morning and continue wherever you stopped. I’ve failed many and you will find that I’m not a quitter.

Sex! What about it? Daughter, you are yet to know pain and pleasure but beyond every pleasure you will ever taste is the bliss of sex. Though short-lived it, could drive any human beyond their point of reason, and it has its many dangers! There are diseases of death, unwanted pregnancy and shattering disillusionment that it could bring if not done in the right context. My daughter, you must know there is a time for everything, and sex is best in its right time – you must listen to your mother.

For every child, growing up can be a lot of fun, and I am willing to be there and make it even more pleasant just for you. You should know that this time will also have its challenges on both sides, because as we get older, your mother and I, we are bound to hold rather tightly to our hopes and fears, and a lot of the times, too, we will want them to fashion your life.

I will want you to be kind enough to let us know when you find a better path to take, or a dream you will want to bring into being.

There will also come a time when you will find your mum and I rather old fashioned and unreasonable and will want to rebel against everything we stand for; I want you to know that we will understand those teenage tendencies because we have been there before, too. It is a stage, and therefore will pass as it came and all you will need to do is beware of it, and wisdom will be by you.

And if the love we give gets choking and restrictive, I want you to understand, there can be nothing more difficult and even scarier, for a parent, than to see their child grow out of their care. It is the fear of letting go, and dear daughter, I want you to understand and be considerate if you never grow in our eyes.

As I look forward to embracing you and guiding you through the many complexities of this life, I regret to let know you that I will not always keep you as mine is to watch you grow and let you go. You will also come to make hard choices, and some will keep you far away from people that love you the most. This is because life is like that when destiny calls.

But there will be another man, whose heart will be made yours, but before then, I assure you, there will be a lot of wolves with the right tongues, and it is part of our responsibilities to help you see that they are driven into the woods. All you will do is remember the good counsels you’ll get and keep them with you.

Before I put down my pen tonight, I want you to know how pleasing it would be to feel your infant breath on my face and to hear you call me papa, dada… whatever word your tongue can form just for me.

Oh – it also just occurred to me that I haven’t met your mum yet. Or maybe I have and don’t realize it yet. I can hear you giggling. Anyway, when you are here, you will see things like that happen a lot (smile).

Ravel Little Gems Kids Horse Watch & Jewellery Gift Set For Girls R2213

Ballerina Treasure Music Box

2009 © J.Ifeme

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The Way They Roll

2016-10-13T20:09:00.000+01:00

Fake names, fake hair,

Fake lashes and fake air;

Fake nails – skin dubiously light,

Fake tits and fake height:

A fair hunk, a feigned smile;

A lust tango – such mutual wile.

Love frowns, walks on by,

Cupid waves a bye-bye

©Jude Ifeme

The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts

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Why Africa Does Not Grow

2016-10-09T22:48:00.000+01:00

Africa will never grow if her nations continue to act the scripts written and directed by the industrialized economies of the West and the East and keep swallowing their economic prescriptions. It is common knowledge that every writer designs the fate of his characters. What is Africa’s fate? From the colonialists of the past, to the world’s new economic power houses, the story is the same. More machineries are digging in, more hoses are sucking up the very soul of Africa, what is left of its value is washed down the sea.

The role of Africa has always been limited to the extractive level; the farmhouse of the industrialists. Yet these nations rarely own or control these productive forces on their land after they are signed off. Even with colonialism gone, African nations still do not control their destinies. Many are African nations that beat their chests over decades old independence, yet their leaders jostle to become blue-eyed boys of the West and East. The years are the only things that pile up so far, not value.

The fault is nobody’s but ours. While we are quick to put our national problems down to suppression, the real issue is abysmal failure of leadership. Africa still lacks leaders who can negotiate its place on the world’s economic stage. Africa still lacks policy makers who will not sign away the soul and keep the shell. So far what we have are largely lackeys, thieves and vision-less individuals serving private interests and vigorously pursuing the death of their own people. Every nation that has grown in spite of the global norm, whether it is Japan, China or India, did so by tracing a way out of the grand global script, only to return when they have garnered some economic clout and enough political influence to take their rightful place.

They have effectively used their comparative advantages, be it population or sheer brain power, while Africa sits on crude resources and begs for technology transfer. The reason anyone still looks in Africa’s direction is because of the resources that are still available to be carted off, and some day there will be noting left. And just as some have returned to shale oil, many will go back to their strategically reserved resources deliberately left for the development of their future generations. And Africa? Africa will become a wasteland, drilled and mined to death; some mega form of Haiti where everyone knows but no one wants to go.

While we are comfortably signing off the future of our children for paid vacations to go and marvel at the beauty of extractors’ lands; while we are accepting secretly built palatable homes and surrendering our children’s future; while we are saving our stolen funds in their banks to further help advance their developed countries at the expense of ours, a day shall come when our children will all be thrown back to hell hole that will be what is left of Africa.

I understand that in some quarters Africans are called ‘people of low intelligence’. Well, what can one say but add: what animal eats the future of its offspring? It does not matter where we reside, whether our ancestors were shipped to Americas or Europa, you still get the same basic treatment; an outsider’s treatment at best. You can rant about it, you can plead and attempt to prick the human conscience, but if we you want to keep staying in another man’s house because yours is dirty, you will never be respected by your host.

And you also want him to go to your house and do your cleaning while you are it?

Until we learn to clean our own mess, no one will respect what we stand for. Until Africans build vibrant, black first-world nations its citizens will continue to be addressed as immigrants while they are outstanding professional out there. And unemployables individuals from other parts of the world will continue to be called expatriates while here. If you haven’t discovered the economics difference between the two then you are still – in Nigerian parlance – sitting on a long thing.

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If You Will Ever Change Your Partner

2016-10-07T13:46:00.000+01:00

One of the most elusive accomplishments one can achieve in a relationship is to change the individuality of one’s partner. It is soul sapping, to say the least. Except one want to live in perpetual frustration they should not venture into that.

This is not to say that people do not change, they do. But people change out of conviction on things that are in line with their inner beliefs. People change because they do not want to relearn certain lessons of life. People change for greater purpose, when their soul is rightly touched.

If one is ever going to change out of another person’s influence, it would be their act, not their art. People are most likely to change because of how you honestly live than your theatrics. Since people are most averse to active enforcement, it is better to be passive, otherwise resentment would be stirred up, or outright pretense activated. The worst situation a relationship ever is when a partner resolves to pretending as a way avoiding confrontation.

Never put your partner in a position where they’ll mirror you with what you want to see them be rather than who they are. Do not let them learn how to give you some false satisfaction. For when the fuel a relationship runs on is counterfeit, the joy will be short lived. Ultimately, the rocks will be its inevitable destination.

Rather than change your partner’s nature, you should instead focus on supporting them in their chosen endeavor. This will help summon the right spirit that will subsequently allow them to create a room essential for your accommodation in their life. Relationship is actually about creating such toxic free environment that is auspicious for mutual habitation.

However, if you must change your partner, you must first start by living that change. You must be seen as an embodiment of that which you desire or utter. And never ever tell them to do it. Naturally they will see how beneficial the energy you carry is, and since they’re all about your happiness they will, at their own pace, compliment your efforts.

Photo credit: nbtfeminaclub.com

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How Giving Can Sometimes Hurt

2016-09-30T11:05:00.000+01:00

Except you have a standing death wish you should not expect a thing from anyone you have helped. And yes, the universe gives back whatever you have given in equals and triples and infinities but we must learn to give rightly.

Once I came across a saying that, ‘if you did a good turn and you were repaid with evil then there’s a bid of wickedness attached to your good.’

That may not be as ominous as it depicts. My take on the saying is that you must leave your ego out of your giving. Your left hand should not see what the right is doing when giving. When one gives in expectation of returns then one might as well have bought some stocks because that would no longer be charity.

Many of us deem it most charitable to give to the most prospective and the upcoming, or to those whose future we can already foretell, so that when they get to their paradise we will be remembered (talk about the bid of wickedness, perhaps). But more often than not many have been failed by this scheming; leaving them disappointedly embittered, rueful and even suicidal.

Most people you have helped will either forget – which is human – or even decide not to look back because they saw through your motive. Some may return, give their measure of quid pro quo which usually may be beneath your expectation. Others would simply have moved on to different dimensions in life that do not offer certain luxuries.

And you haven’t even thought that you simply may have been placed on their path with the most concise precision by fate. And yes, there is fate.

Did you know that the talent, health or wealth in your possession right now may not be entirely for your very satisfaction? Our greed most times won’t let us see.

The truth is that reward –if I may say – for our kindly deeds may be granted in form of our very good health, the successes of our children, or even our very salvation.

When we give and make other people see. We receive adulation. Our ego is feed, and that’s all about that. So don’t ask why you don’t get remembered by those you have helped because you have been appropriately paid in praises. The universe owes no debts.

The best way is to give and never remember. Don’t keep the faces if you could. Have no expectation of reward whatsoever.

Imagine you have been secretly paying a poor child’s fees and taking care of his needs for years and yet he sees you on the street and doesn’t even say hi. Imagine he even insults you without the slightest knowing that you are his benefactor.

Giving doesn’t have to be so conspicuous an act.

Photo credit: Thereseborchard

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Stuck In The Gecko's World

2016-09-26T10:26:00.004+01:00

I don’t hate Gecko. How could I? I mean, God must have spent quite some heavenly time to mold and breathe on that one, too. But waking up every morning to find that creepy, lazy troll on the wall by my head is just too much for me. It stirs up nightmare, you know?

No wonder I often found myself in some nondescript desert, trapped in this particular nightly sight in which this odious skeletal figure in turban chased me with a long dagger dripping with blood, I think, screaming, “I want brood! Gimme brood!” And, I running like I’ve got two bags of cement tied to my thighs.

I have never had the gut to stand and ask why it needed the blood, and particularly mine. Call that fear if you will. I’m only human. Besides, I hear fear is a more permanent human emotion than courage. And courage hasn’t ever existed where there isn’t fear.

Having fled the religious chaos of Kaduna city with nothing but the clothes on my back and a bag of letters I was to deliver to a branch office across town – which by the way, lie by the corner half eaten by rats and God knows what else –just anywhere that could offer a roof and a semblance of security was all I truly desired. And perhaps that was exactly what my uncle tried to offer: a roof and a semblance of security in his home.

I was just getting to know Keffi town. Although a safe hundreds of miles from Kaduna, Kaduna still awoke a tremor in my soul. The sights of the horrors I witnessed still made me jittery. Did I mention that I was a Masters graduate working as a post boy? Well, that wouldn’t matter, would it? Such story does not fail the heart these days. Anyway, I was going to get a promotion before the gods once again left one of their many wars to man.

Upon my arrival on that fateful day, I noticed there had been a huge change. My uncle had built himself another home, a five-bedroom duplex this time. And the former one, a bedraggled single-room where I stayed with him, his wife and seven children still lurked a few meters behind, like a heap of bad luck. I was so relieved. And then, I must have felt happy for him too, until a little later. Relieved for the fact that, unlike the last time I stopped by on my way to my now smoldered job, we all won’t have to tolerate another season of suffocative torture in that tin of a house like handled sardines.

My heart sank when he took me around to the heart-broken house after I had narrated my ordeal, and told him I would need some time to find my feet. With a bold smile on his face, he told me that was to be my sleeping quarters while I stayed. I thought I deserved a better treat; at least, I was a nephew.

“These children need space,” he told me in a rather annoying gentility. I gaped at him. Uncle Thomas? What a human manifestation! My uncle was poorer than a church rat. His fart was louder than a rock blast. His children have a genetic copy of that, too. And I prayed for salvation every moment I lived with them, and now he talked to me like he was some royalty? I was heartbroken. If my father, his elder brother, was alive I would have called him to bring back the Uncle Thomas that once shared his only room with me. No being unreasonable, but this is Africa. We were created to share things.

The room was moderately large, ascetic, heart-sinking, cracked and holed here and there. A worn-out single bed where my uncle made all his children, a table and a chair at both ends of the room, made up for all the missing furniture. There was a window with a curtain half its size, and a calendar on the opposite wall, hiding a deep crack. My uncle smiled broadly, dropped a packet of rat poison and a can of insecticide on the table as he introduced me into the room and left. The smile I tried to put on could not form before I saw his back; I guess the need too was gone, because I felt my face go deadpan instantly.

I honored the sigh of despair that rose from the depth of my soul and tried to assimilate the environment further. Although mine was a humble abode at the end of a run-down street in the city of Kaduna, I felt like I have been thrown into a hole, in retrospect.

Suddenly, the eerie silence that followed my uncle’s departure and my resignation to fate began to crack-up. A squeak in the ceiling, and a rustle of the calendar on the wall that dated back two years, I remembered I brought it the last time I visited. I felt I was been watched. Looking up, a rat peered out of a hole in the ceiling.
A gaunt wall gecko sauntered from behind the calendar, wriggled its snake of a tail. A big cockroach screeched out of a crack along the door and back in a flash. I had been thrown into a zoo! I realized my uncle left those arsenals behind for a reason. And it clearly wasn’t out of altruism. I was the uninformed exterminator.

Apparently our entrance had interrupted some sort of normalcy in the house. From the look of their eyes, those pests have become used to running the place as some jungle territory after the departure of my uncle and his crowd. And now: who the hell is this? Their glistening, tiny, black eyes seemed to demand. My eyes wouldn’t leave the gecko. I don’t hate geckos but I certainly wouldn’t have one for pet or a co-occupant or I will kill – sorry ancestors. Not really.

Well, that day, I made a move; the rats withdrew. The sound up there told me there weren’t just one dozen of them. But the gecko stayed put. It stayed, wagging that disgusting tail with such stiff, unwavering intensity. It could have risen to my face if it was further endowed. I yanked off one my shoes to smash its tiny a skull but then remembered the story we were told as little children in Ugbosi. It was about a man who killed a wall gecko and never had a child. Such things still happened, you know? I thought to myself and refrained. Oh it should have been such a fitting retaliation for that recalcitrant reptilian did dare me.

Anyway, the gecko did stand there urging me to give my gut a boost. In one of those stories it was also said that if you woke up one morning and a chicken ran after you, that it was only common sense that you made good use of those legs you’ve got for free. For, you never knew, it may have learned how to bite the night before. I decided to take a walk of the compound. There were other things to see. After all I just came into town.

That night I could not sleep. The mosquitoes buzzed like choppers and their raids as persistent as the Janjaweed. The rats chattered ceaselessly and played their romance game. Did you know they squeaked when they made love? Right before my very eyes, the center of the room became an arena for marathon sex, the males where particularly notorious.
I guess I knew better than put the light off. Meanwhile the gecko found no other place but the wall perpendicular to my bed, my head’s position, to perch and wriggle that bloodless tail. At some point the rat fiesta got overwhelmingly loud. I got up and chased them back into the ceiling. I discovered three seemingly exhausted males wriggling on the floor. Was this some kind of sexual elation? Since they were clearly oblivious of my threat I let them be.

Finding nothing to block the hole, I tore the outdated calendar off the wall, squeezed and molded it into a ball and then used it to plug the hole, hoping that would do the trick. On a second look at the wall I realized I had ripped off the gate to the gecko’s paradise. But who cared? It was understandable if animals were in some place because there were no humans. But here I was. Hello! What in the world happened to all the bushes and rocks and all the grounds that could be burrowed out there, anyway?

I looked at the time. 12:30 midnight. I was tired so I went back to bed, changing my head’s position to the feet’s to keep a good distance from the good-for-nothing gecko. I could feel the stabs of mosquito proboscis through the cover cloth but I endured.

I could not have slept for one good hour and a half when I heard some scrapping noise. Chips of wood from the ceiling rained on my face. Startled, I jumped off the bed. A mischief of rats were vigorously eating another hole through ceiling, this time right over my head. My shock smoldered to anger. But when I imagined what it would be like to have rats jumping on my face through the ceiling, the anger dissipated. I went over and removed my blockade on their initial hole which was a bit off the bed.

The calendar was badly ruined so I couldn’t give the gecko’s gate back. I sat on the tip of the bed, face in hands, to reconsider my position. Was I not supposed to be on top of the food chain? It was then I remembered the rat poison. I had my Eureka moment. The euphoria almost seized my heart.

From that moment my lovely mind began to entertain even more sinister thoughts. Though Mr. Conscience preached ‘thou shall not kill animals thou will not eat,’ the situation at hand seemed more reasonable. I could handle rats with a little irritation to my conscience but not the gecko.
I can’t remember the consequence if a woman did kill it, but I was a man and impotence certainly held no good prospect for a forward looking young man. But who made this ‘shit’ sacred? I thought. Then another though struck my mind. What if I killed it killed it ‘unintentionally’? Yes, unintentionally.

The insecticide worked quite well, the mosquitoes were mostly gone. They were no jokers. They fed even in the afternoons. After two days the can ran dry because I had to concentrate my sprays on that particular crack on the wall where the calendar used to cover. The gecko had to die unintentionally.

However, after emptying half of the can into the crack on the first morning, the daft lizard emerged later in the evening seemingly unperturbed. I pretended not to notice and went to sleep, still maintaining my new position. The rats have refused also to eat the poison I planted in five strategic corners in the room, preferring instead to nibble at the letters I came with. I was a defeated force; I could see it in the way they looked at me.

When I returned from working with my uncle at his poultry every night and opened the door, I had to also wait for order to be restored. First, the gecko had to leave the bed in such a deliberate saunter. Got to the wall, crawled majestically into the crack and then reemerged, head and forelegs. And the rats would appraise me for a while before jetting into the ceiling through the hole.
They have since abandoned the project of boring a new hole. The cockroaches were almost extinct, thanks to the insecticide, but for a few isolated reincarnations whenever there were crumbs the rats felt too big to pick.

The other day I came back, upon opening the door I met an oblivious mischief of rats gathered at the floor of the room, they seemingly surrounded something. On a closer look I realized they were all alone. So what in the world could the rodents be up to? Askance, I threw a searching look for the coldblooded ‘lazy one’ that steals my bed. And there it was as usual, on my bed, which was not a surprise, only this time it appeared to be presiding over the rats. It wouldn’t even budge to my presence. My blood ran cold. Apparently I was not yet welcome in my own uncle-given home. I tactically withdrew.

If you plan to take over this house, I thought, just remember all those times I’ve allowed you steal my sleeps; whatever evil scheme you conspire to execute; just remember all those privileges I have let you enjoy in this house. As I closed the door behind me, I heard an unusual kind of squeak from the rats, it was clearly sardonic. I walked on.

Hours later, when the coast was clear I returned, unbearably drowsy. As I slept, my mind wrestled with animal revolution. What if they sprang an attack on me, what chances did I have? I had tried to talk to my uncle for the umpteenth time in weeks but he appeared to be getting a hard-on from having in the rundown house, so I gave up on that and turned to the sun and the moon and whatever could impress on time.

The mosquitoes have returned in their swarms, they also seemed to heave acquired an ability to shake off any form of insecticide I deployed. I even tried Otapiapia and ended up with severe headache and catarrh. So I reached a new height in human thinking: Let them be! The big idea was: mosquito, in the worst of circumstances, needed less than a drop of blood each in one attack. So I figured; I only had to eat enough vegetable and beverages to make-up for whatever ounce they may suck collectively, I would be okay. And they would be okay. So long as they kept their malaria.

The only thing I could not make peace with remained the incorrigible gecko. I just could not bring myself to it. It’s penchant for my bed had only grown in spite my frustration. Even though the rats found my bed an appropriate place to defecate and urinate and make love and what not; the thing is, I never met them there! They showed some respect. The chicken, they say, never forgives one who pruned its feathers on a rainy day. If I were a chicken, the gecko was that one who would have made me ruthlessly vengeful. Every single day that passed my craving to unintentionally assassinate the gecko quadrupled.

Finally my day of opportunity did come. I returned home, glad that it was not on my bed when I peered through the keyhole. I opened the door, and suddenly something fell on the floor with a thud. It was the gecko. I caught a sight of it wriggling with its back on the floor. Instantly, I pretended to miss a step and stamped my foot in such a barrage of fury and...Who said the bastard wasn’t fast? Oh my day would have been made. Before I knew it, it was already under the table.

Disappointed and angry, I cleared the rat droppings on my bed, and sat down. Then the horror of thoughts hit me. What was that gecko doing at the door by the way? Perhaps it nursed a sinister plot against me, too. So it’s true; those you plan against also plan against you, consciously or unconsciously. With a deep sigh, I rested my case.

How would I have explained to God that I was killed by a frigging gecko, that I just could not complete my earthly mission because a gecko sprang a surprise on me? I decided to no longer pursue it, even though it remained unrepentant, and despite of my truest feelings. The endless lovemaking of those sex craze rats did produce more results – new sex craze offspring. The mosquitoes became my nightly halo till dozed off in helpless surrender; I guess I became something of saintly item. But something good was in the making. My company had shifted its operations to Abuja, and I was to pack to the new staff quarters in one week. My days as a post boy had also ended.

©Jude Ifeme

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Delta Call

2016-09-06T19:45:00.002+01:00

DELTA CALL

More lip services, more spillages,

More pilfering and more hostages.

More ta-ta! ta-ta! in the creeks,

More tears running down cheeks.

More soldiers and more guns,

More militants to do the runs.

More things not getting done well,

More closely we get to hell.

©J.Ifeme

11/5/2008

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Old Ways

2016-07-20T20:58:00.000+01:00

OLD WAYS

Every story will grow old,

So will every song

And every face;

Every city will grow old,

So will its might

And its men

And their hold

On other men.

Someday new melodies

Will be sung about old songs;

New tales about old stories,

About old cities,

About old men,

About old ways they'd briefly reigned.

Jude Ifeme

Photo: Creepypasta

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