LAGOS NAWA

LAGOS NAWA!

Let me pen this page again, its been a while.
I keep saying it; inasmuch as Lagos is filled with stresses and even frustration, it has a way of making you smile at least.

That was how I was in a bus going back home from church, I sat behind a young guy and a lady.

"Celle Express! Celle Express!..." The conductor kept shouting at Ikotun round about, calling for passengers.

"Beautiful hair you gat." The guy spoke in a very romantic way, and of course, the lady blushed, then tilted her head to the right as she pushed some strands of hair backward
I knew they met in that bus because the way the guy rearranged himself like he said "I die here with this babe" when the lady blushed.

Well, that wasn't my business, after all, she is half as beautiful as my girlfriend.

Soon enough, an old Niger Delta man sat close to the lady just before the last passenger came on board. Our bus was filled, then most of us who sat in the bus for long in the scorching sun waiting for other passengers took in breath of relief.

Everyone kept a straight face except the conductor, whose left arm clung to the roof of the danfo. He was just shouting like those very loud conductors.

"Owo mi da? (Where is my money?) The conductor began to collect our fares.... Let me cut it here, that's not where I'm going.

THE EVENT!!!

Breeze gushed into the bus as the driver took off. Some loosed item were being displaced. A Yoruba woman started exclaiming, "ah ah ah! É ma GBA mi!!" as the tried to catch her flying 200naira note she kept on top of her bag.

The breeze was becoming much that the lady's hair started flying (you know na). Her hair flew into the old man's mouth without her notice. I watched how the man made efforts to spit it out, and then cleaned his mouth with his hand as he looked angrily at the lady, who was innocently enjoying the guy's gist. I wanted to laugh, but I fought real hard to hold my peace.

The hair didn't stop there o. It started flying across the old man's face. I watched as he struggled to keep her flying hair calm - playing the gentleman game. It was when the hair flew into his mouth the second time that he flared up.

He pushed the lady's head gently to one side. "Abeg carry this your mammy water head go one side." He kept his calm after saying that and concentrated on the road.

Na there the man wake up trouble wey dey sleep...

I could see the spark inside the lady's head. "Oga, what's your problem? Why will you bring your family problem into a public bus as this? Don't you ever try to touch me again! It's your daughter who is a mammy water!...
She wouldn't stop o.

The old man was just speaking amid her yelling. "If you no carry mammy water head, I go talk?..."

The shouting lingered for a very long time. Mr. Romantic was speechless and clueless on what to do. I pitied him especially when he started looking at the old man anyhow...

The lady alighted from the bus, still talking about the issue, when we got to her bus-stop.

THE RIB CRACK
What broke the camel's back was the way and manner he guy looked at the man when he shifted to occupy the lady's position close to the guy. He looked at the man from the top of his hair to the sole of his feet.

I couldn't hold it, I had to laaaaauuuggghhhhh!!!! LOL

My guy was angry simply because he didn't collect her number....lol...

BE MINDFUL OF FRIENDLY ENEMIES

A friend's favorite quote is "not all that glitters is gold." I thought it was just the normal quotes our secondary school teachers forced us to memorize just to pass our exams to prove to the school authorities that they were efficient in their duty posts.

I met Anayo some thirteen years ago. He was such a nice guy that could become mysterious at will. Most times, I wondered what kind of being he was. He was always lackadaisical about most things every sane being would cherish, but what he feared the most in life were pretence and betrayal.

"My dad was betrayed and duped by his best friend simply because he wanted to have my mum. I watched my dad die of stroke when I was just nine. Life became horrific for me after his burial, especially when I knew that I won't get to see him again."

Anayo never always stopped whenever he talked about the death of his father. "Friendly enemies" he would mutter in a pitiful manner as his last words. The number of times he told me to be mindful of friendly enemies got me unease at some point. I checked my dealings with him to make sure I didn't get his back stabbed at any point.

Few weeks after he received his admission letter, he died of lung cancer. I wept bitterly because I feared to live without his presence, someone who had at least a  solution to every challenge.

16th of next month will make it exactly eight years since Anayo died, but his words still live in me, especially the advice of me being mindful of friendly enemies.

Mr. Nkwerre, whose real name is Ebuka, became a close friend of mine at work. He became even closer after my promotion when I started earning 50k more than our usual salary. I believed I'd found a friend in him like I did in Anayo. But unlike Anayo, he kept things away from me. Sometimes, I felt he was being jealous about my consecutive appraisal before my promotion, but I didn't mind anyway.

Few weeks before my promotion, I had a little misunderstanding with my predecessor - it was his office I was promoted into. I thought the matter had become a thing of the past, but it was the beginning of a cold war. Mr. Olu took it upon himself to fight my stay as the new operations assistant.
After so many futile effort, he bought Ebuka to his side.

I hadn't spent three months assisting the head of operations when I was summoned by the Human Resources for a wrong decision that cost the company great loss. It was later said that I defrauded the company.

Everything happened so fast. Their game was perfectly executed. And my best friend, Ebuka, testified against me. I didn't believe my eyes and ears. It couldn't have happened. Ebuka and I had made mistakes we both covered for each other. Although none was shady, but they could get us debited if not properly covered. Ebuka dug everything out that day. I was so shocked that he said all those.

No doubt, everyone in the panel I stood before was already brainwashed. They tackled my every word forgetting my quota in the company's progress in the last four years. It was just me against the world, I couldn't defend myself to please them.

Two police men ushered me into their car the next morning as soon as I got into the company's compound.

I've been in the cell for two weeks now hoping and praying that Mr. Osondu, who is the head of operation, will be back soon from his one month annual leave to look into my case. He is the only one I can trust now.

Two days after my arrest, Ebuka, who has never visited me once, was given my post. All I have with me are his last words that hit my ears as he walked pass me that day; "After pride, comes downfall."

Anayo, I believe you now! There are indeed friendly enemies out there.

If we cast our nets into the sea to fight RACISM, then we should fight within us tribalism, individualism, traditional, cultural, and  religious differences that are making our boat to sink!

PS: Sea- The World

       Boat- Africa

                                  PENSWORLD

SPIRITUAL HUNGER

HUNGER is the currency that makes you valueable in the spirit. When you lose your HUNGER for GOD you begin to diminish in Value. Whatever makes you think you have arrived, KILL IT!

The propensity and intensity of your HUNGER for God will determine the capacity of your UNCTION. It takes UNCTION to  lock up heavens and open it. It takes UNCTION to command influence. Without UNCTION, you are limited even with your talent and skills.

How do you describe the mystery of a teenage shephard tapping his guitar and demons will race out of a President of a Nation? How do you explain how a lawyer's handkerchief will terminate cancer? or what do you think will make a man pass the streets of Capernum and demons will cry out? What about the mystery behind a  Pharmacist's ward coat suffocating asthma?  Its not noise. Its not about the instruments. Its the Unction behind them! Elijah had it. Paul manifested it. Jesus demonstrated it! You cannot be an exception.

Your age, academic status or marital status  should not be a hinderance.If you are ready, HEAVEN is ready!

Remeber, the currency is HUNGER!

Keep having a Fruitful 2019!

Written by Peculiar Onyekere.

WE ARE ALL OPPORTUNISTS

When that popular Nollywood actor Muna Obiekwe died some years ago, the story that went round was that he had suffered a kidney disease and needed funds, but was too scared of mockery to reach out to people for help.
Some of you blamed him for dying in silence.
Some judged it as pride......

Few days ago, a popular Lagos DJ committed suicide.
Some have condemned him already, saying, "na because of ordinary woman you go kill yasef?"
Some have also blamed the death on the woman for not having 'spirit of forgiveness'!

I have also observed some microwave- overnight-motivators posting things like "speak out, don't die in silence, we are here for you, nonsense!

And, I laugh!

Over time, I have come to find that we as a people are far from being as kindhearted as we want to project ourselves to be.

The average Nigerian is not a philanthropist but an opportunist!

There! I said it!

Oftentimes, it is all about 'showmanship'.

That is why your neighbor knows that they'd rather eat their cold food in peace than come to knock your door to ask for a box of matches, on that rainy afternoon when theirs suddenly goes too wet to strike or finishes.

That is why your friend who has had a bladder failure and wet her bed, would rather keep the mattress indoors (even at the risk of it getting rotten!), than bring it out to airdry.

That is why some would rather lock themselves indoors, drink garri without sugar for days and keep smiling-pretend, than tell you exactly how it is doing them!

You, yes you, that says you care, do you really care???

Are you not just saying it to sound relevant?

That woman (single mother of three) that approached you for assistance last term towards paying her children's school fees, didn't you turn her down after preaching a long sermon about why women should keep themselves? Didn't you throw some 'useful' advice her way about 'how not to be lazy'?

That pregnant girl that died having an abortion, would you have taken her in had she come to you for shelter, in the event her parents threw her out?

That young man who has approached your gate severally to give you his CV, did you not haughtily turn him down, while murmuring, "Am I Buhari that is responsible for your suffering?"

But, you went on group's to throw around a few thousands of naira, forming philanthropist, because over there, more people will "see" you and "hail' you and " pray" for you!

You organise free-giving events, give out publicly for all to "see" because it will "sell" your "brand" not because you really give a hoot whether those poor people live or die!

You can donate cartons of juice to charity but are ready to beat and design your househelp's body with koboko, over a cup of juice!

If your intentions for the dying world are truly genuine, look around you: there is always someone, in your hood, your family, your place of primary assignment, your office, whose smile looks out of place.

If you look closer, it is easy to trace the track of tears on that your friend's face, no matter how much she masks it...

So, before you go forming 'defender of the depressed universe', ask yourself:

If friend A is in distress and needs a quick helping hand (without public announcement) will she come to me?

If friend B has been diagnosed of a terminal disease or a life threatening one, will she confide in me? Has she confided in me before and I let her down?

If neighbor C is cooking and suddenly exhaust her gas, will she have the boldness to knock on my door, pot in hand, to finish her cooking? If she does, will I oblige?

If Church member D has a pressing need, (or an insignificant one as little as not having transport to go home after service), will he/she be bold enough to tell me about it? Will I respond without judgement or will I even help out at all without a sermon?

If Mrs E, who has suffered a temporary misfortune, comes to me with her pressing need to feed her children or pay some basic bills, will I give without reminding her of how her mates sell pure water or fry akara to eke out a living?

These are the pending issues!

If your answer to the questions above are in the affirmative, congratulations, you are a philanthropist!

If not, it does not matter what image you project to the world, you are nothing but an opportunist, seeking to be noticed by the 'right' eyes, in order to use others misfortunes to enrich your greedy self! Copied

DO YOU REMEMBER Those Days of Innocence?

Do you remember when nights were always short?
Times of the day at school when it always seemed like the time was paused just to punish us for not liking a particular subject?
Those times saw us being home sick even when we were day pupils or students.

The only times school was fun were when teachers allowed us to play or teachers' meeting commenced towards the closure of school hours.

I miss those days of innocence, Days when our nakedness was our only prove of transparency. We would run out naked in the streets chasing each other with a bowl half filled with water just to splash it on each other's body all in the name of taking our bath. We always loved that part when our parents would scold us to go and bath properly after spending hours already. Those intentional acts of not bathing very well so that we would be sent back.

I remember. I will go and knock at Obinna's door. His dad would always ask who was knocking.
"Obinna, you still dey baff?" My tiny voice always asked.
Whenever his dad was in a bad mood, he would surely transfer the aggression on poor innocent me.

I don't know if you still know how to construct planes and some craft works with paper and build mansions with clay.
Do you still remember those steps in playing ten-ten, the rules in suwe, the pattern of tinko-tinko?
Do you still have the energy to still partake in sack race, cloth race, catcher, form a big circle, wrestle?

Do you still remember all the things we could construct with that black thread used in plaiting hair?
Do you remember how long we spent playing rubber band, doing mummy and daddy, hunting for snails, "last person to score" while playing football.
Do you remember how we swam in those shallow wells and played Playstation all day long.

Do you remember how you felt when you first noticed the growth of hairs around your private parts? That was when adulthood began. When things began to fall apart.
Our lives were stereotyped, responsibilities set in, fear of survival gripped us and were told that life isn't more than that.

I miss those days when making it big wasn't my priority, Life was sweeter. What I do now after a long period of work, I try to recap how well I played as a boy. That's the only way I make up for the time I don't have anymore for all those plays.

Once upon a time when her back bone was love, when she was the unity amongst many.
When she was referred to as Christ-Like people when her sole influence was God.

But all of a sudden, she began to loose her taste in the sight of men, forgetting her essence, through ignorance and greed in sought for divinity.

Where certain people change religion to mere onslaught of men’s faith, consciousness and virtue.

The fact that they are enslaved under the thoughts of others is mind bubbling, to be forced all in the name of spiritual calling to believe what they don’t understand, and being threatened by the fear of being crucified if found in opposition.

Where her name has being used as a “get rich scheme”, where the salvation of men are now offered by the set of so called “preachers”, where by it's been sold and backed up by empty promises, what a disgust to the Lord’s holy name.

Where faith is all they can hold steadfast to, believing totally what they know nothing about, due to fear.

Because it's just a silver line that differs Ignorance from religion.

Faith is the substance of things hoped, for Evidence of things not seen, And that’s the kind of anxiety we should fill our soul with. Other than being subdued by so called chosen ones bent on rocketing the fame of their ministry .

Christianity is the name of the religion and its true meaning are not seen in the lives of its believers.

So the picturing of the future of Christianit,vvlo be one body of people serving one God trul, is so blur.

Though there are few true ones out there.
So unfortunate that such beautiful word is just and umbrella for an Irony.


Wayne….