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Her Inspiration

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"Nnamdi, I must confess that you are my inspiration. You have been from the first day. You inspired my first move toward you. The moment I set my gaze on you, it was magic, or perhaps it was a miracle. You are my miracle inspiration. That fateful day at the Nitty-gritty Lounge, you were the first to get my attention. Not because of anything you said or did to me. It was my wonder why a cute guy like you would sit alone with his head tilted backwards and tears dropping.  I onserved that the reason for tilting your head backwards was to prevent the tears from flowing. The struggle was real but the river still flowed and I could tell it was still being contained.  From the corner of my seat, I could trace the veins around your forehead region, they had formed some sort of small map. You were a puzzle to me that day, one I wanted to solve, at least try to solve. From the much I knew, men hardly cried but here was a man crying in a public space! It took Amaka snapping her fingers i...
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๐‘ป๐‘น๐’€ ๐‘พ๐‘น๐‘ฐ๐‘ป๐‘ฐ๐‘ต๐‘ฎ

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"๐‘ฐ ๐’„๐’‚๐’ ๐’”๐’‰๐’‚๐’Œ๐’† ๐’๐’‡๐’‡ ๐’†๐’—๐’†๐’“๐’š๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’‚๐’” ๐‘ฐ ๐’˜๐’“๐’Š๐’•๐’†; ๐’”๐’๐’“๐’“๐’๐’˜๐’” ๐’…๐’Š๐’”๐’‚๐’‘๐’‘๐’†๐’‚๐’“, ๐’Ž๐’š ๐’„๐’๐’–๐’“๐’‚๐’ˆ๐’† ๐’Š๐’” ๐’“๐’†๐’ƒ๐’๐’“๐’" ~๐‘จ๐’๐’๐’† ๐‘ญ๐’“๐’‚๐’๐’Œ One of the most effective ways I have discovered to get off my drunken state of fear, anger, bitterness, pain, confusion, bad blood and energy is by writing. Writing has a not-so-pronounced way of sobering one up.  Even when the lips cannot utter words, the pen can do so. Even a letter or two on paper can bring that miraculous feeling of soberness and clarity. ๐’€๐’๐’– ๐’Œ๐’๐’๐’˜ ๐’˜๐’‰๐’š ๐’š๐’๐’– ๐’๐’†๐’†๐’… ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’“๐’š ๐’˜๐’“๐’Š๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ? It's because our minds are capable of accumulating all manner of stuff - the good, the bad, and the ugly; many of which should not remain there. So, when we cannot release them by word of mouth, we can do so by wielding the pen. ๐‘พ๐’‰๐’š ๐’„๐’๐’๐’„๐’†๐’‚๐’ ๐’š๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’Š๐’…๐’†๐’‚๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’š๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’Ž๐’Š๐’๐’… ๐’˜๐’‰๐’†๐’ ๐’š๐’๐’– ๐’„๐’‚๐’ ๐’๐’†๐’• ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’Ž ๐’‡๐’“๐’†๐’† ๐’๐’ ๐’˜๐’‰๐’Š๐’•๐’† ๐’‘๐’‚๐’‘๐’†๐’“? Allow the...
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GOOD OLD DAYS

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๐‘Š๐‘’ ๐‘ค๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘ค๐‘–๐‘กโ„Ž ๐‘™๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘ก๐‘™๐‘’ ๐‘โ„Ž๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘˜๐‘  ๐‘œ๐‘“ ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ก, ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘œ๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘๐‘ฆ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘œ๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘™๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก. ๐บ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘š๐‘Ž โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž ๐‘“๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ก ๐‘๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘–๐‘” ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ก ๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘’.  ๐ป๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘’๐‘ฆ๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘ค๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘”๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ค ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘”๐‘’'๐‘  ๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘™๐‘™๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘œ๐‘› โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ. ๐‘Š๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘’ โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ ๐‘š๐‘–๐‘™๐‘’; โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘”๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘™๐‘‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘› ๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘ก โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ. "๐‘ˆ๐‘š๐‘ข ๐‘š, ๐‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ข ๐‘˜๐‘Ž๐‘š ๐‘˜๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘œ ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘ข ๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘ข๐‘˜๐‘ข๐‘œ" ๐‘†โ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ค๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ ๐‘โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘“๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘™๐‘ฆ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ก๐‘โ„Ž ๐‘ข๐‘  ๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘Ž๐‘ก โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘“๐‘’๐‘’๐‘ก, ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘  ๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘š๐‘œ๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘™๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘’๐‘ . "๐‘€๐‘ฆ ๐‘โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘™๐‘‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘›, ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘™๐‘’๐‘ก ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘™๐‘™ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘Ž ๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ" ๐‘€๐‘Ž๐‘š๐‘Ž ๐‘๐‘˜๐‘ข ๐‘Ž๐‘  ๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘  ๐‘“๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘™๐‘ฆ ๐‘˜๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ค๐‘› ๐‘ค๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ ๐‘›๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก๐‘  ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘š๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘™๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘Ÿ...
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Dear Christian

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 Dear Christian,  How have you fared without the Lord so far?  How have you managed without fellowship with Him? I mean how have you coped without study of the word?  How have you trolled on this road without prayers?  How do you manage the world's affairs without Him in your heart?  What runs through your mind? What things do you desire? What sparks up your imagination?  What excites your body and satisfies its cravings?  How do you cope with the torrent that rages within your flesh? The lust that calls for satisfaction? How have you fared since you backslided? Since you blamed the Lord for all the ills in your life and left Him seeking other options? Seeking freedom?  How free have you been?  What are those chains you've got round your neck, your feet, your heart, your hands?  Boredom, depression, anger, bitterness, lust, unforgiveness, depravity, cloned freedom, emptiness...  Dear Christian,  Where are you now? Like rig...
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SEVEN BIBLES

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I guess I was in SSS3 preparing for WAEC and looking forward to taking the JAMB exams that would qualify me for higher institution. On one of those days, I was talking with some people who happened to be brethren about how excited I was to be going to the higher institution soon and how I would love to serve God there.  One of them,  a brother,  said to me, "Joy, even if you carry seven big bibles and go to the university, you go backslide. University is a different world and the things happening there ehn... " He went on and on talking about how it was impossible to go to University and come back a Christian. It was probably because he had seen a few with such experiences. Still as I look back, it is funny that the brother who was saying all of that had never been to the university before. He probably had never even seen the walls. All he had with him were hearsays which he uttered with so much conviction.  Even hearsays are capable of igniting the fire of doubts an...
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MABEL'S DILEMMA - Part One

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  It was getting dark and Mabel was exhausted. She fumbled with her bag in search of her inhaler. She needed to be sure it was intact. As she lifted her head smiling as her hand hit the silver plaited life saver, she met a stare so daring. _ Why do I feel like this is familiar, _ Mabel thought and looked away. She had had a long day already and she didn't need any further troubles in her life. At least not at this time of the evening when all she fantasised about was her cozy bedroom and how she could get all the sleep and rest possible. As she waved to stop a cab, she felt unease as the masculine image walked closer to her. She adjusted her eyeglasses so she could see clearly. Why in the world was she shaking and why did someone she never knew have such strong effect on her entire being? He was probably going to hurt her so she moved to the part of the road where the street light shone brighter. At least there were other people there just in case he tried anything funny. Mabel pre...
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SOUR

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"Ewooo, ewooo, papa Nnamdi, Biko oo. You will kill me today. Chai, Chineke merem ebere(God, have mercy on me)" Mrs Adindu screamed as whips from Mr Adindu's belt made their painful rhythmic moves up and down her succulent light skin.  "It is me that married you and not any other person. I have told you not to expose this body anyhow." "Since you have refused to give me more children, I don't understand what you are using this body for up and down" he spat on.  When her husband was satisfied with his daily dose of lashing her, she dragged her limping body to a corner and was grateful for the succour of her dear son, Nnamdi.  The little boy of 5years dragged the edge of his oversized shirt and wiped his mother's eyes, pulling her head close to his bulgy stomach.  He was already used to the daily show except that today, this man was pounding against his mother even harder. He did not only use his belt, he used knife to cut through her skin.  Nnamd...
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