Every day, in a certain town, the Poor Man goes to the house of the Rich Man.
He joins the crowd at the gate, made up mostly of other men like him and boys. They sit there patiently until the hour comes for the Rich Man to feed them.
The gates are thrown open and coolers of rice, beef, rams, goats, millet meals and sauces are shared to the crowd. The Poor Man and his friends eat enough and even have some to take home to their family.
This is what the kind Rich Man does every day.
After they’ve eaten, the Poor Man and the other beneficiaries pray for the Rich Man.
May his pockets never run dry and may his enemies never find him. May he never lack and may God bless him so he can keep feeding them. If he ever needs their help, they’ll be there to offer it.
A little over three months ago, the University of Nigeria, UNN, published her admissions list.
The students who had been granted admission went there, paid their fees and registered. They even had lectures for about three months before the ASUU strike and Covid-19 struck.
Now, while they were at home, a good number of them received text messages changing their course of study from courses like Law, political science, public admin; from and Medicine and Surgery to Medical Lab Science, Anatomy, etc.
A few sources said UNN allegedly over admitted and asked the students to accept the new courses, then switch back to their courses of choice, in their second year.
If this is the case, won't the classes in the second year be overfilled when the switches are made?
The stadium of the Middle Belt Province, formerly known as the National Stadium, Abuja, teemed with bodies as people pushed through the gates, hoping to be seated before the event began. All sorts were there;
the crème of the society, those currently trying to be and those who’d never been. They’d all gathered, united by one purpose: to see their loved ones again.
“Daddy, is Governor Natas really going to bring Mum back?” asked seven-year-old Uzezi, as she held her father’s hand.
“Yes, Uzezi,” Omoefe Okpe whispered back and hugged her close. “I hope that he calls her name today. If that happens…when that happens, she’ll be going home with us.”
It’d been four years since his wife's death in an airplane crash.
When I began visiting the female section of prisons, I was struck by the ratio of female visitors who were there for the male inmates, to the men who were there to see the women.
More often than not, female inmates were visited by mothers/sisters than by male partners/family.
I think what broke my heart the most were the pregnant women who were abandoned by their partners. These women give birth in jail, and the children live there with them. Their partners never come to check on them.
They say that by virtue of marriage you're from your husband's state. But he can't come from yours. Yet you can't run for office in his state or yours because you're not an indigène in either place.
So, are we saying a married Nigerian woman is an internally displaced person? 🤔
The funny thing is, there's actually no law that says a married woman hails from her husband's state and vice versa. Nor one that prohibits her from running for office there.
But tribal sentiments are strong things and demolishing them is an entire life's mission.
It's shows how backward we are, when a Nigerian man/woman can run for the office or mayor in New York after living there for a few years.
Yet their relatives back home while rejoicing, would reject a woman's nomination to an office, for being from a different state.
When he got back, the friend was still sleeping, or so he thought. Caesar went to wake him so he could prepare for the meeting he’d come for.
Caesar shook the guy but he didn’t wake. He checked his pulse and got nothing. He realised the guy was dead.
After several agonising minutes of arguing with himself over what to do, he decided to do the right thing as a law-abiding citizen. He knew it was a tricky situation because…Nigeria. Still, he went ahead and informed the police.
It was 1:18 a.m. when the shots rent the night air, shredding the silence.
I recall the exact time, as I’d just checked it on my phone, and told Ti-Abasi that it was too late in the night for her to be giggling so loudly. I hadn't even put down the phone when the pops went off.
They were so loud like it was right inside the compound. Startled, we stared at each other.
“What’s that?” Ti asked, breathless.
Gunshots. My realisation was mirrored in her eyes. She dove for the light switch and next thing, the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim
illumination which seeped through the curtains, from the halogen street lights across the road.
Blood pooled in my head, and it began to pound, and then buzz like the sound of a thousand bees. My mouth went dry, and my heart’s rhythm abruptly changed. It began to thump fast,
I didn't know the the phrase "A friend in need" had a reverse meaning, until I met someone. We'll call her Martha. A friend in need is supposed to be someone who's there for you whenever you're at a low point in your life or going through tough times.
Well, Martha was this kind of friend, but not in the way you think. You see, whenever I went through some bad times, Martha was there.
"Eketi how are you holding up?"
"Eketi don't worry, God's in control. He'll see you through."
"Babe, stop worrying. I'm always here for you."
I was happy to have such a friend and even boasted to others about it. However, after a while, I began to notice a disturbing pattern. Doubtful, I put my suspicions to the test and to my sadness, my suspicions passed the tests with flying colours.
Miss M had just handed out the exam question papers to her pupils, in the private school where she teaches French.
"Miss M, how are the answers arrange?" asked one pupil. "Is it AA or BB or ABAB?"
It took Miss M a few seconds to understand the child's question.
Her shock led her probe further. Turns out the previous teacher always rehearsed the exam questions with the pupils and also told them in what order she'd arranged the answers.
The pupils didn't need to read or understand the questions. They just followed the given format.
Why would a teacher do this, you may ask.
Because many private schools in Nigeria fire teachers when their students fail. Even when there's proof that the student has learning difficulties, isn't old enough or ready for that class or needs extra attention.
“Sir, do you have a Will?”
“God forbid! Barrister, are you praying for me to die?”
“Madam, do you have a Will?”
“Me? Will? Is that not for men?”
Let me tell you a true story, about how a Will can make or break a family and how you’re #NotTooYoungToWill.
Names and locations have been changed. You know why.
Let me tell you about this guy, Emeka.
He was the smartest boy in school. Always came 1st. One year, for a state competition, he was chosen to represent his school. Being the smartest guy in the village school is one thing;
it’s another to compete at state level and win.
After the dust of jubilation settled, Emeka’s father called a family meeting. He didn’t mince words.
“Emeka, your teacher came to see me. He said that you have a good chance to go to school abroad. That he can help..