Don’t You Just (not) Want To Grow Up?

You’re 25 years old. You’re staring at your nephew and niece who are 2years and 10months respectively. You see how much your niece wants to walk without support. You remember another time when she wanted you to put in the chair where she could spin around a zillion times. You knew she would cry if you stop.

You look at your nephew and you can see him crying and stamping his feet because he wants the ball on top of the fridge but neither his hands nor legs will permit him to get it.

You immediately give him the ball and the crying stops. You take a seat near him while your mind wanders. You think of how much these children want to grow up and you think of how much you want to be like them. Just like them, you know that they have no responsibility and all they need to do is cry and shout so that food or whatever it is they need  is given to them. You think about yourself and how much you need to spend on accommodation, feeding and transportation in the state you’ve been posted to. You have no relatives there. You know how hard it’s going to be for the next one year serving your country. You just sigh for the umpteenth time again wishing that you were these kids who have nothing to worry about.

Just then you notice your nephew throw the ball in the direction of the tv, you catch it by reflex.

“Odera, how many times have I told you not to throw that ball near the tv, ehn? I’m not giving it to you again.” You say.

Then he starts to cry. You start to mimic him crying; he stops crying and gives you that bewildered look. So you chuckle, kiss him on the head and tickle him a little. He starts laughing as his tear stricken face begins to dry.




Have you ever been in a situation where you just kept staring at a little child and wishing just for a second… okay, more than a second that you were just like him/her, young and gay with nothing to worry about? Or am I just the only one that has these thoughts sometimes?


Hypothetical…. or not

The Head of chambers asked me to follow one of the lawyers in the firm to collect the Garnishee Order. After we arrived at the Court, the Registrar told us to wait for some time. After about an hour, the Registrar told the lawyer that he has seen that our client in Exxon Mobil and he cannot imagine how much we are charging our client as legal practitioners fees. We all laughed about it and the lawyer told him that God is helping us. The Registrar chuckled and said that we would also help him. The lawyer ended his mirth and asked what he meant. He said that the lawyer needs to drop something before he can give him the Order. The lawyer now gave him N1000. The registrar pushed the money out of his desk and raised his voice by a notch asking the lawyer if he looked like a baby to him. The Registrar asked him to leave his office and come back when he was ready.

The lawyer did not know what to do. He knew that if he gave the lawyer any money, he would be going outside the bounds of law. He also weighed the pros and cons of writing a letter of complaint to the National Judicial Council of the Registrar could be addressed. He made a resolution to do just that.

He decided to call the Head of Chambers and brief him on the latest events and what he intended to do. The Head of Chambers listened and asked him to come back to the office. On our way out of the court, the lawyer met a colleague and told him what transpired at the office of the Registrar. His colleague just kept laughing about it. He told him that he knew how good and honest the lawyer is including our firm. He advised him to pay a reasonable amount like N500, 000 and above. The colleague asked him not to bother filing a letter of complaint, that this particular Registrar is highly connected. If he doesn’t want to make better alliance in future with this Court or any Court in particular then he should just pay. He said that he must still be a rookie if he does not know that it happens everywhere. The lawyer did not know what to do again. He thanked his friend and we returned to our firm.




Hi lovelies. I hope you have all been well? Thank God for a successful completion of Nigerian Law School. I’m still getting used to sleeping normally and not always thinking in legal terms -_______-

I hope to be back as days go by.

Love and laughter.



Of patience and Wisdom of Old.

In a beautiful sunny afternoon. You’re four years old playing at the back of the house near the woods. There’s Caesar, your spaniel chasing his tail. You’ve just seen a single flower (red rose) bright and blooming peeking out in the woods. You’ve always played at this place and never seen any flower before. You start walking as fast as your feet would take to get to the flower. Caesar comes along with you. You don’t stop when you hear your favourite aunt talking to you, telling you that she would help you with the rose. She has figured that you wouldn’t stop and intends to help you nevertheless. All you can think of is your lonely flower patiently waiting for your grasp. She is now shouting that you shouldn’t enter the woods but you ignore her again and run into it. Caesar is now barking and still tagging along. You are hoping to get it without any assistance and forgetting you are young and not as tall as your aunt.

You finally get to the tree but can’t reach up to the flower. So you keep trying and suddenly you notice you’re bleeding. The thorns of the rose has pierced your skin. Then you begin to cry. Your aunt has finally gotten there and she easily plucks it from the branch.

The story can be likened to Jesus. We keep looking or walking in a direction. He wants to help us and/or walk with us on life’s journey but we don’t stop and walk side by side with him. We most times ignore him believing that we can achieve everything all by ourselves. Then when we fall or are in trouble, we remember Him.

Intercessions of a mother

She’s such a beautiful child who cried the river and drowned the whole world when she smiled. Do you know why she cries? You know but you choose to look the other way. Each year, her whimpering starts a month to her birthday. She’s going to be five years old and she hasn’t celebrated any birthday.

You keep shouting at her with your deep bass voice and she keeps shuddering and shrieking into a shadow of herself. Since she was two, she knew what if felt like to have her own birthday and couldn’t have one. She was either present at her brother’s birthday or her classmates who celebrated theirs in school. So she knows what it feels like to be left out.

Do you know you may be contributing to it? With your voice and the manner in which you handle her cannot be said to be on a par with a child of five. She’s all ignorance and bliss.

Learn to be a daddy to your daughter and she may just learn to get out of stammering.


Forbidden Attractions

Hi. This came to me in bits and pieces so bear with me.


“I’ve brought two house boys who are from Calabar. I was told that they cook very well so the children shouldn’t go near the kitchen”.

That was the last conversation she heard between her parents before her father entered into the car and left for his usual trips. So the houseboys, Sunday and Peter came to live in their house. They cooked delicious meals and made her mother who was pregnant happy.

Her elder brother by two years, Eric always went to play at his friends’ houses who were neighbours with them. Her father travelled a lot and her mother had many church programs to attend and with the baby coming, she couldn’t play with her. Uncle Sunday was exceptional. He wasn’t like Uncle Peter who always chased them from the kitchen and always had a stern look. Uncle Sunday was always there to buy her eclairs and play with her. He never shouted at her; all her eighth-year-old mind felt was that someone thought about her. He called her his little wife. He always showered her affection and had energy in abundance when it came to playing with her.

The day Mummy was rushed to the hospital to deliver the baby, Eric and her were excited and also scared and told Uncle Sunday. He told her not to worry that she would be fine. Later that night, while she slept, he came and carried her from the room she shared with Eric and brought her to the living room. He touched her in a way no one had – he touched her hardly formed breasts and virginal privates. Even her mother didn’t bath her and touch her in that way.

She thought it all happened in a dream since she was really sleepy that night until the following day when he sent Eric to buy eclairs for them. As soon as Eric left, he told her to come and put her hands inside his jeans. She declined and went to stay next to Uncle Peter who was cooking afang soup. She was glad Eric came back quickly with the sweets and she had more people in the company of Uncle Sunday. She suddenly realized that last night wasn’t a dream and she stayed away from Uncle Friday as often as possible. After a while he stopped the fleeting pats and stopped playing with her completely. She then found companionship in her Enid Blyton story books and in her new baby sister.

She never did tell anybody and didn’t really know that her virginity was taken until she was eighteen and started dating Elvis. Now older and wiser, she realized that it wasn’t just Uncle Sunday that made those pats but also Uncle Damian – her father’s cousin who came to visit sometimes. Uncle Damian’s touching wasn’t so obvious because he rarely came around and never really went far because someone was always around.

Till today now married with kids, she can’t handle relatives (males or female) leaving in her house. She can only stand visits and short holidays. She registered at a company specialized in house keeping who stay changing the house keepers that come to her house often.


Parents beware of pedophiles in your home; form a good relationship with your children.

I remember.

Hey! Sorry it took me months to come on here. I don’t know if I’m officially back. Here’s a short story.


I feel that I’m all alone in this world. I have a family. My own nuclear family but I can’t seem to share my thoughts with them. I can’t tell them how much I want to speak efik with them. I know I’ll get laughed at because I don’t have the intonations. I run away from relations that want to keep in touch, as a result.

I have friends, friends that mean well. I can’t seem to connect with them. Chike has called severally, that he wants to visit but I give excuses. Excuses like ‘I just came home and I’m about to sleep’ or ‘I’m going out’, when I know that I’m not going out soon. Enitan has asked me to come over so that we can have some girl-time and she can teach me how to make buns, puff puff and meat pies but I told her that I’ll come when I’m not so busy. She said I can come anytime of the day. I can surprise her now, but I won’t.

My colleagues at work keep asking me to come for the little party they host incorporation with other similar companies every fortnight but I stall that. I tell them that I babysit my niece or there is a vigil I must attend on that particular day.

I have my boyfriend. He is my little piece of heaven. I feel alive and comfortable with him. We connect naturally. He is also my best friend. He can’t always be around because his work keeps him one month with me and the other off shore.

It’s Friday night. I know I should have just hung out with colleagues at the little party since my sister has traveled with my niece or gone for the vigil. Instead I choose to be at home. Now depression has crept in. The boyfriend knows how to chase it away. I guess talking about it with him always brings comfort and his joke makes me light with happiness.

This is the month that he isn’t around; the month that we skype every night. This is the night that we get to play our dirty game. These past few days that MTN network has been the worst, my colleagues bought other networks. I chose to stick to MTN believing that they’ll get better. Therefore, I can’t skype. I would have just called him now if I still had credit. My blackberry messages aren’t delivering either.

The generator just decided to die this minute. I must go out to buy some petrol and get recharge cards for my phone. I never drive at night in the rain but these items I need to buy aren’t far away. I know that staying at home may make me go back to my other means of happiness: cutting myself.

So I set out for the door with the gallon for petrol, purse and keys. I was reversing out of the driveway and trying to put on the seat belt when everything went blank.

After fourteen months of moving around, trying to make a nexus to family, my boyfriend, friends and colleagues, it all comes rushing back. The truck containing the new neighbour’s upholstery hit my car.

I remember.

Take A Bow

Hi guys! I only wrote this story a few hours ago and thought to share. Please pardon the wrong tenses. Enjoy!


“Chioma tell me that you aren’t still fucking that married man?”

This was a bbm I got from Emeka at 3.02am two days ago. I haven’t been able to do much of anything since I read the message. My mind kept going back to how much I loved this guy; how many times I made sacrifices for him. How many of my male friends I had stopped talking to because he felt insecure around them. How many times he quarreled with one of my sisters because she told him that she didn’t like him. I knew that my other sisters didn’t like him that much either but I was determined to make it work.

He’s been calling me and sending messages but I can neither pick nor reply the messages. I already know what I must do. I made a call to my sisters telling them of the decision I had made. They told me in clear words that they want the best for me and would support me in whatever I choose. I sent Emeka a bbm saying:

“Hi baby, can we see at 6pm today in our usual park?”

I get a reply immediately.

Perfect! Anything for you babe :*

After reading his reply, I wondered if it were the person that sent the same message two days ago.

So I came to the park a little late while it seemed like he had been waiting for sometime. As soon as I got out of the car, he was already behind me.

He looked scared and sweaty. It seemed like he was about to do something he didn’t usually do.

As I locked my car he was putting his hands on my waist and started apologizing for what he said two days ago.

He said:

“Baby, I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have. I only just realized yesterday that my so-called friends were not good people. I knew that they never liked you and decided to fill me with lies about you but I didn’t know they had to lie about you and your ex having sex last week. I asked you the question because I wanted to be sure that I was making the right decision before giving you this…”

He took out a little box from the pocket of his pants. When he opened it, it was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was a platinum ring that consisted of a pearl in the middle which was my birthstone and tiny dark blue stones around which I assumed were sapphires his birthstone.

The ring was magnificent to me but not the man. I knew that I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with a man who couldn’t trust me; who took his friends’ words over mine and; who could fight with my fifteen year old sister.

He continued:

“Baby, I have had this ring for about a month but I have been scared. I know that I have been looking for loop holes against you but last night I prayed about it and I now know that you are the one for me.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I couldn’t believe that someone had finally found me worthy to propose at the age of 29. I was elated…

“Let’s spend the rest of our lives together. Marry me!”

… and angry.

I knew what I must do. I shouted:


His expression was one of confusion.

Now I said it several times.

“No! No! No!”

He said,

“Baby, but I apologized, I said I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I said that I prayed and God reveled it to me that you were the One.”

His last words got me as red a luscious tomato.

I said

“You think you can say hurtful words to people – even those that matter the most to you and get away with it? You think I’m a device that does exactly what you want because you asked for it? No, I am not! You seem to have a magnificent ring but you are not a magnificent person. You don’t trust me but you want me to trust you enough to believe your promise of being a better person. Never! I can’t trust you. I won’t.” 

I grabbed the box from him, closed it and threw it on the floor. I entered into my car. As I reversed, I got the satisfaction of looking at the reflection in the mirror  and seeing surprise, anger and hurt mixed together.

I made sure that we made eye contact, then I gave him that sexy smile I knew he fell in love with from the beginning and drove off.