tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91570354843488930422024-03-13T12:56:18.139+01:00THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES<b>. . . AN ODYSSEY OF YOUTH</b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-11050286506353387512015-07-08T23:33:00.002+01:002015-07-15T12:35:16.797+01:00WHY DO WE GET MARRIED? Part 2 – DO YOU HAVE TO BE MARRIED TO FEEL COMPLETE?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Read Part 1 <b><a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2015/06/why-do-we-get-married.html" target="_blank">HERE</a></b></h3>
I attended a Catholic Primary School for the last two years of my primary education and back then, I was so taken by the style and methods of the Catholic faith that I wished I could become Catholic. However, at nine years old, I had little or no say in the matter. My parents, especially my mum would never have taken it lightly. I was particularly intrigued with the idea of Catholic priests and nuns taking up the vow of chastity and celibacy, and becoming married to the Lord and as such, not ever getting married to any man (or woman) all the days of their lives. The idea felt good to me back then and sometimes, I still wonder how it would all have turned out had I pursued that notion. One thing I have however come to realize is, it takes a great deal of courage to take up that vow of dedication especially in today’s world where marriage virtually defines the existence of most. That brings me to the question of the day: Do you have to be married to feel complete?<br />
<br />
<br />
Some of my readers who made inspiring and ingenious comments in the last post have actually done justice to this question in their own ways but I feel obliged to throw in my own submission regarding the subject. For starters, let us define the term ‘complete’. I would simply define the term by the use of its synonyms. Words synonymous with it include: whole; total; perfect; absolute; entire etc. All in all, it connotes a state of fulfillment where nothing more is needed. It’s like the end of a journey of some sort. Now, let’s come back to the matter at hand. Do people actually feel complete when they get married? Yes, they do! At least, most people do. Otherwise, why all the fuss about the idea of marriage? Of course, the achievement of this milestone creates a sense of euphoria and fulfillment in the hearts of the newly-weds. It’s one big hurdle for most and once they cross it, a feeling of completeness just takes you over. <br />
<br />
<br />
However, I have also come to observe that this feeling of completeness has a semblance to a placebo effect. It’s actually a fleeting feeling and not as real as it seems. For most, the end of the honeymoon period terminates that feeling and you feel like a veil has suddenly been lifted off your face. Reality dawns and you’re like ‘Oh, so what was the big deal anyway?’ Another comparable feeling is what happens when you’ve been on drugs or stimulants and you feel so high before finally making it to bed. Then, you wake up with a dreadful hangover, only in this case, the hangover might not necessarily be dreadful but the fact remains that the ‘high’ just isn’t there anymore. Truth is, for most, it’s just a fleeting feeling that wears off soon enough. For some, it takes weeks or a couple of months for the feeling to wear off; for some it takes a year or two; for some it takes a little longer and yet for some; the honeymoon actually lasts forever! Yes, it’s actually possible to sustain that feeling of completeness for as long as you want. That’s a story for another day.<br />
<br />
<br />
I’d also like to look at ‘completeness’ from the angle most people desperate to get married look at it. I believe the power you give to someone or something is the power it has over you. If you idolize the idea of marriage and give it so much prominence in your subconscious mind, trust me, you would definitely need it to feel complete and as long as you’re single, you would always feel that terrible void within and until you finally achieve that dream, the void would persist and the longer it takes, the more embittered you become. It is for this reason that most people make terrible mistakes in marriage. They just need to get rid of that feeling of incompleteness and so they jump on the next available bus called marriage and sooner than later, the high wears off leaving them worse off than before. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcamLwnv-7t2alXKeUo5UzR5T-6YqjBLbfOfVJ7cX9KRszxru45Yodaa2h69ue8GAl-mkamHbakrMYRxDhDn2WGG1leJl6p8o4Fu64x1Fful1FnCB2InE5vZR9PpnZUfOfKJmFznxAWFV-/s1600/marriage-is-a-choice-not-a-necessity.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcamLwnv-7t2alXKeUo5UzR5T-6YqjBLbfOfVJ7cX9KRszxru45Yodaa2h69ue8GAl-mkamHbakrMYRxDhDn2WGG1leJl6p8o4Fu64x1Fful1FnCB2InE5vZR9PpnZUfOfKJmFznxAWFV-/s320/marriage-is-a-choice-not-a-necessity.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://poptasticsincebirth.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/marriage-is-a-choice-not-a-necessity.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I believe in the sanctity and importance of marriage but I strongly believe you don’t need to be married to be complete. As an eligible bachelor or spinster, you should hope to get married someday but you don’t need to spend the whole of your days of eligibility day-dreaming, waiting for that day and giving so much power to the idea that marriage would finally make you complete. Once you do this, you become subject to the power of that idea and it begins to control you and determine how you feel and how you see yourself. I believe you are complete as a man or a woman regardless of whether you are married or not; regardless of whether you are well into your thirties or pushing forty and all your colleagues and friends are married while you’re still single. Marriage does not make you complete. It only adds to you. <br />
<br />
<br />
Let me compare it with this scenario: if I am worth 16 billion dollars, I am a billionaire, right? Then, my business has some nice times and I get richer by 3 billion dollars and my worth becomes 19 billion dollars. Does that make me better? Of course it does but does that actually do anything to change my billionaire status? No! At 16 billion dollars, I was a billionaire and at 19 billion, I still remain a billionaire. That’s what marriage is and that’s how we should begin to see it. It is an important thing to do but it is not a necessary thing. Without it, you are just as good as you are and you shouldn’t feel less of a person. An awful truth is religious houses have further fueled this concept of ‘Marriage makes you complete’ with some of its teachings. FYI, our Lord Jesus Christ wasn’t even married yet he was and is still the most complete and perfect being that ever walked the face of the earth!<br />
<br />
<br />
“And the Lord said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make a help meet for him.” Genesis 1:18<br />
<br />
<br />
This Bible verse has been so terribly misconstrued as one of the Biblical basis for marriage. Yes, I agree it is a strong supporting scripture for the concept but we should take time to examine what really happened here. Who actually decided to get Adam a wife? Definitely, it wasn’t him. God was the one speaking in that verse. Adam was busy fulfilling his purpose and tending the garden that the Lord had placed him in. He was definitely not feeling incomplete whatsoever. He was perfect the way he was. Then God looked at him and said: “Well, Adam is just fine the way he is, but a partner wouldn’t hurt” and that was why he brought in the woman to serve as his companion and his help meet. God was simply rewarding ‘the man’ he had placed in the garden and who was fulfilling his purpose with a partner to help him so they could chart a higher course together. They were to fulfill their destinies together side by side. It’s like a case of two perfect and complete beings coming together to birth a more fabulous destiny and that’s the way I see the idea of marriage. You are perfect the way you are and marriage is only an opportunity to make you better (which is an awesome idea). However, you could choose to remain perfect the way you are. <br />
<br />
<br />
One more comparison would be a football league scenario where one team wins by 1-0 and another team wins by 7-0. Both winning teams would still have 3 points each! It’s just the goals difference that would be the difference and in my opinion, marriage is like the goals difference here. It is important but it is not a necessity! Marriage must be deserved! It must be earned. Regardless of whether you are a man or a woman, it’s not your age or achievements that qualify you to get married; it is what you are doing you’re your life in the present as compared with the purpose the Almighty God originally designed for you. Adam earned the right to have a woman as determined by his Creator who then decided for him. If you’re not on a path to fulfilling your purpose in life, you don’t deserve to get married! Also, the fact that you are fulfilling your purpose doesn’t also necessarily mean that your reward from the Almighty God would come in the form of marriage. It could come in various other forms. It’s hi-time we tuned our minds right especially in this part of the world and stop seeing marriage as the ultimate means to our fulfillment.<br />
<br />
<br />
Let’s continue this in the next post where I shall examine the question: “Must you have children to have a fulfilled marriage?”<br />
<br />
<br />
PS - I have been having running challenges with Spam Comments on this blog for some time now and it's been a major headache so I had to deactivate the 'Comments' section while I work at resolving the issue. However, please feel free to email me on: gbengasile@gmail.com and I'll definitely revert.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-27564572907308497782015-06-24T09:14:00.001+01:002015-07-13T13:06:16.966+01:00WHY DO WE GET MARRIED?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></h2>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“And the Lord said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make an help meet for him.” Genesis 1:18</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh” Genesis 1:24</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now before you begin to wonder if this going to be some sermon, let me clear the air. It isn’t. This is simply a plethora of rants that have been bottled up inside me for so long and I run the terrible risk of exploding into bits and pieces of flesh, bones and clots of blood if I keep them in any longer. I have been married for some time now (technically for almost ten years, although in for a shorter period officially and traditionally; let’s save that explanation for some other time) so I dare say I have some experience <strike>and I could consider myself a sort of authority in the marriage business</strike>. Okay, scratch that but I know I’m not a rookie in this game at least.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I understand that just like in academics, experience in marriage also has its grade levels. A school of thought assumes that the first five years of marriage is akin to the First Degree (B.Sc) part while the next five years is the second degree (M.Sc) part. Then once you cross the ten-year mark, you’re in the Doctorate cadre. You get your professorship once you hit twenty years in marriage and thereafter, you sort of become a Professor Emeritus or whatever title experience in marriage could be measured with. So, I speak as someone about to begin my Ph.D and trust me, this comes with loads of experience. If you still don’t agree, bite me!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuctEktupolDLBA3nXtn8EDzH6zBtBO9gL0OlDH0yND6k1JX3TKAZTjPQOIN_sSwjIqZxPh8jOehnmy_s2SFstSozWXqZKhIEXCBaUVqH_08f7ma-KpomsOcQBsHtGjdncb_Ueh9_rtNa/s1600/marriedd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuctEktupolDLBA3nXtn8EDzH6zBtBO9gL0OlDH0yND6k1JX3TKAZTjPQOIN_sSwjIqZxPh8jOehnmy_s2SFstSozWXqZKhIEXCBaUVqH_08f7ma-KpomsOcQBsHtGjdncb_Ueh9_rtNa/s320/marriedd.JPG" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-Do-We-Get-Married/dp/1438952317" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In my part of the world, people seem to have a rather annoying fixation about the issue of marriage. Over ninety nine percent of men and women have ‘Marriage’ on their list of plans. The position of marriage on that list is not necessarily important but what matters is the fact that it is certainly on that list! I have also come to understand however that both sides of the gender divide see the ‘M’ word differently. While men seem not to be too bothered about when they get married, women see it as an ultimate achievement; hence it is usually in the priority list of every woman especially once she begins to approach her mid twenties. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By age 22/23 as she begins to round up her first degree or second degree as the case may be, she begins to hope for an eligible suitor if he is not yet available or make plans with him regarding marriage if he is already in the picture. By 24/25, an eligible spinster without a man in the picture begins to get a little apprehensive and any eligible spinster between the age of 26 and 29 without a man begins to dread her situation. By the time she hits the big Three O and beyond, a sort of bitterness begins to set in and the prayer points begin to change from ‘I need a good job’ or ‘I need a breakthrough in my present job/career’. It becomes ‘I need a husband’. Of course, men also seem bothered about marital issues but it’s not as serious as it is in the case of women. For instance, you’d hardly find a 28 year old man praying seriously about marriage. In fact, some 35-year old men are still comfortable as bachelors and are not even bothered about it. The general assumption in my part of the world is: a man can always get married any time, any day! I hear this is because men don’t have that invisible clock women have. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then I ask again: Why the apprehension? Is marriage really such an accomplishment that women seem so desperate to get married these days? Someone would then answer and say: You know, women’s cycle differs from men and once they begin to get into their thirties, chances of conceiving and having a smooth ride during pregnancy becomes slimmer. Okay, granted! Fear of pregnancy issues could compel women to want to get married on time but then I ask: Whoever said childbearing is the major reason for marriage? Is that what God actually ordained it to be? That takes me back to the first lines of this post and the bible verses.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“And the Lord said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make an help meet for him.” Genesis 1:18</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I believe God actually ordained marriage for companionship between the man and the woman. That is the first reason for marriage and that should be uppermost in the heart of every man or woman intending to get married. You shouldn’t want to get married because you want to have children. This fixation with ‘having children’ has led a good number of men and women into rushing into marriage with people they eventually found out they were not even compatible with. Eventually, just as they rushed into it, they rushed out of it and left the offsprings of that marriage stranded as products of a broken home. You should be marrying your husband or wife because you love that person enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him (or her) with or without the children. There are so many issues associated with the idea of marriage that sometimes make me almost feel marriage is overrated but of course I bet so many people (especially women) would not agree with me. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am certain I would not be able to complete this discourse in one post so I’ll take it as a serial discussion in as many posts as I can. I would look at this series from three perspectives:</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do you actually need to be married to feel complete?</span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Must you have children to have a fulfilled marriage?</span></span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Is marriage actually not just about you and your spouse?</span></span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Please note that whatever I say or I am going to say here are my personal opinions so don’t be too quick to crucify me. After all, every man is entitled to his own opinions. Feel free to share yours too. Let’s continue this in the next post. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></h2>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-38029948319876368162015-06-18T22:52:00.002+01:002015-06-24T09:31:17.015+01:00ANOTHER SHITTY EXPERIENCE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9157035484348893042" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
had thought for a good while if I should actually do this post or not. For some
reason, it kinda sounds absurd doing two consecutive posts talking about shit.
I mean, who does that? Definitely, most people don't. Then I thought again to
myself. I'm not 'most people' so I decided to do it anyway. The story I began
in the last post would really not be complete without sharing this experience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
<a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2015/06/the-god-called-shit.html" target="_blank">incident of 2005 </a>proved to be a pretty embarrassing one for me but I was able
to get over it eventually especially when I considered the fact that most
people had lots of other stuff to think about than about some guy who shit his
pants. Worst case scenario; they would laugh about it for a day or two and then
move on with their lives. I have to admit however that it was pretty difficult
for me to move on after that experience. It took my last nerve to show up for
lectures the next day and I assumed every single person who looked my way or
smiled at me knew the story. Nevertheless, within a few days, it was
history and I was back to my usual stylish and suave self. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of
course, I never bothered to pursue my love interest in Chichi, the lady who
brought me water to clean up myself. I was sure I would never be able to look
at her without imagining her visualizing that ridiculous moment when I stood in
the toilet in my messed up boxers. The sight of her that day passing me the bucket
of water and with her hands over her nose was one I would never be able to get
out of my head. Thus, pursuing any love interest with such messy clouds hanging
over my head was a definite no no! I took special care after that day to ensure
I never ever found myself in such a situation ever again . . . until about two
years after when a similar event occurred.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
For some time now, I do not ever bother to eat or drink anything before
travelling, especially if it's through public transportation. I have experienced
a rather strange phenomenon that sort of connects my mind to my bowels and as
much as I have tried, I have just not been able to overcome it. Whenever I
embark on any trip, my bowels suddenly develop a mind of their own and I find
myself having reasons to visit the bathroom repeatedly before setting out. Once
in the vehicle, my stomach gets extra-sensitive and thanks to the deplorable
state of our Nigerian roads, every bump on the road further provokes my tummy’s
sensitivity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
a result of this, once I arrive at my destination, the first thing I usually do
is go to the toilet for some evacuation of whatever my cranky insides have
conjured up during the journey. I’m still yet to understand if my case is a
medical condition and what it is called. The irony of it all is, I never
experience this whenever I drive myself on such trips. Now, ain’t that some
situation? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2007</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
last straw that finally influenced the free-tummy-empty-bowels decision came
about on one fateful day in 2007. I was on my way to Lagos from Ondo State; a
four-and-a-half hour journey all things being equal. I had a light breakfast
and set off at around 10am. Fortunately, I was one of the last passengers in
the bus and so there was no delay. I paid my fare and settled at the right back
corner of the 14-seater bus. A cute chewing-gum-chewing girl was seated on my
left. Since we were going to be seating partners for the next four hours at
least, we naturally had to say hello to each other. I decided to mind my
business thereafter. Truth was, I had some emotional situation hanging over my
head during this period so flirting with some random girl was the last thing on
my mind. Her Sony Ericsson K800i phone caught my attention though. That was
probably the ‘iPhone 6 of 2007’ if comparisons are to be made.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
journey was a rather smooth one for the next hour and half and I continued
reading Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code which I had begun a few days earlier. We made
a ten minute stop-over in Ore town and some passengers had seized the opportunity
to buy stuff from competing hawkers struggling to get their wares through the
vehicle’s windows. Some passengers alighted and rushed into the nearby fast
food restaurant to ‘do their business’. I would have loved to come down to
stretch my legs but my seating position meant I would have to disturb the lady
beside me who had not bothered to leave her seat. I had no ‘business’ to do at
that moment so I waited patiently for the journey to continue. Besides Dan
Brown was thrilling the hell out of me at that moment as Leigh Teabing was
planning an escape for Langdon and Sophie from his chateau.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
was so engrossed in my book that it was until I heard the engine start that I
realized everyone had settled in again and we were good to go. It must have been
about thirty minutes later when I felt a slight rumble. I dismissed it as a
possible protest in my bowels. Perhaps, I was hungry. After all, I had only
taken a few fingers of fried plantain and fried eggs and washed it down with a
cup of tea that morning. Of course, that wasn’t food and I had a right to be
hungry. We hit a terrible bump in the road a few miles ahead and I felt the
rumble move down below. Instantly, it became clear to me that these were no
hunger pangs. The protest wasn’t a request for an entry but for an exit. With
every bump in the road and every pothole we hit, the feeling got worse and I
was almost sure I would repeat Episode 2005. This would be a bigger disaster
for many reasons. </span></div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="margin-left: 12.0pt; mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDl7MM3GJ2gR_exgTExsvHlXyjbcG80ABISJts7Q820tqQDoHyCbqBFPk2StqrLSex2BTPpgw0VAMZjtu2ECDqucTXH4RYh3THYh2oHmy6Vgw6FxGkSLTP88b8hvx-ghlG8XgYLo2sXQa/s1600/ws2q5m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDl7MM3GJ2gR_exgTExsvHlXyjbcG80ABISJts7Q820tqQDoHyCbqBFPk2StqrLSex2BTPpgw0VAMZjtu2ECDqucTXH4RYh3THYh2oHmy6Vgw6FxGkSLTP88b8hvx-ghlG8XgYLo2sXQa/s320/ws2q5m.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://m.memegen.com/ws2q5m.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For
starters, I had a beautiful girl seated beside me and I was sure I would be the headline
news in her house that day once she got to wherever she was going in Lagos.
Second, this was a public bus and who ever shits his pants in a place like
this? The embarrassment was bound to kill me right there. Third, if I dared
shit my pants here and the passengers were even nice enough to bear with me,
how would I get a change of clothes? I had just an extra shirt in my bag. It
was a ridiculous situation to find myself again. I made an attempt to call the
driver’s attention but a thought stopped me. The passengers in the bus would
definitely yell at me and ask me why I hadn’t come down to handle my business
during the stop-over less than an hour before. Besides, how was I actually
supposed to ask? “Driver, please park. I need to take a shit!”? I processed the
thought in my head and instantly decided I wouldn’t risk the embarrassment. It
was a case of choosing the bigger embarrassment – Shit in my pants and get
embarrassed or Plead for a stop-over and rush into a nearby bush to take a shit
while all the passengers waited for me. Whichever way, I was going to be
embarrassed but I had two options here. I had a final option though – endure
till I got to Lagos, which was over two hours away!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
still don’t know where I got the courage from but what I did eventually
surprised me and I have considered myself a super hero ever since! It must have
been the longest three hours of my life. Yes, the rest of the journey
eventually spanned over three hours as we hit a most annoying traffic on the
Lagos-Ibadan expressway. I was like a mad man all through the period and
thankfully, the lady beside me slept for a good while or else she would have
suspected something was wrong with me. Of course, I didn’t dare attempt to fart
this time thanks to the lessons from the <a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2015/06/the-god-called-shit.html" target="_blank">2005 experience</a>. </span></div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;">
<tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;">
<td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><br /></td>
</tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;">
<td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
told myself again and again that if I survived this, I could survive in the war
zones of Benghazi, Afghanistan or Iraq. Trust me, it was that bad! I almost
pleaded for a stop-over many times but held back and finally we arrived at
Ojota, Lagos. As the driver parked the bus and came around to open the trunk to
let out passengers’ stuff, I climbed out from the same trunk. It was too risky
to wait for everyone to get out of the bus before I did. Only I knew why. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Oga
na wa o,” the driver said, “You dey rush o!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Even
the lady beside me seemed to wonder why I dashed off like that. I ignored them
and with my bag swung behind me, I dashed off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There
was no fast food restaurant in sight so I asked a guy selling airtime recharge
cards around for the nearest hotel or guest house and thankfully; it was just a
minute away. I thanked him and took hurried steps towards the guesthouse. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hello,”
I said to the receptionist, a rather ugly looking dude.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Welcome
bros” he replied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please
I need to use your restroom” I said, sweat breaking on my face. I could almost
feel ‘it’ coming.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You
wan rest?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Abeg
I wan use toilet!” I almost screamed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Na
short time be that. Na N400.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?”
I screamed. “Guy I no dey do short time o. Na just toilet I wan use.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bros
na the price be that” the guy said dismissively.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
winced. This was clear exploitation but I just couldn’t deal with that right
now. I gave the guy two N200 notes. “Please let’s go now. I need to use the toilet
now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He
handed me a key. The keyholder had 102 inscribed on it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Last
room on the right,” he said, pointing in a direction. I was off already. I
would find the room or break down any door if I had to. I had already paid for
it anyway.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Water
nor dey o!” he called out after me. “You go patient small make I go fetch
water!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
could have strangled the guy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In
seconds, I was seated on the toilet bowl blasting out like the world was mine.
At that moment, that was my own heaven. The N400 I paid was hurtful but it was
just my luck. Of course I took it up with the guy when I was relieved and out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Na
people like una dey spoil Nigeria” I told him. “You take advantage of people in
their desperation.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He
shrugged dismissively as he retrieved the key from me. “Oga na your own be that
o. When shit wan kill you that time, why you no talk all this one?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
ignored him and left the place. I realized he actually had a point. Anyways, I
had done what I had to do.</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-68472552200535619362015-06-10T09:42:00.004+01:002015-06-10T09:45:46.525+01:00THE GOD CALLED 'SHIT'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Yesterday I
had an experience I wouldn’t like to have ever again. I woke up around 3 am
with a terrible tummy ache. A forced belch jumped out of my mouth and the resulting
stench made me feel as though I had eaten seven rotten eggs. Alas, I was
experiencing a terrible constipation. I felt a clearly audible rumble in my tummy
and rushed to the adjoining bathroom. I jumped on the toilet and my buttocks
had scarcely touched the cold ceramic bowl when I emptied my bowels of whatever
was making me so uncomfortable. I remained there for about ten minutes feeling
more relieved by the minute. Then I washed up and returned to bed. By 7am, I
had repeated the trip three times already and I knew it wasn’t going to be a
funny day!</span>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://jeffreysterlingmd.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/constipation2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdHzmv2jmDJfUOWFDWCpEE6sGH70zfgFvNBf0R_PW3BxMTCGJd2wlzQEZ6VWs3S3MmkBOgsYkyMC3STB1itDnb3Ots89xNtYHQNOZd3kFnD-Oj33O5w8lQC60W0PP7dzD4HNPLd8vMpoC/s320/constipation2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://jeffreysterlingmd.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/constipation2.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My skinny
body frame had always been a source of concern for me for sometime now. Of
course, I’ve always been slim but my assumption had been that as I grew older,
I would put on some weight and alas, most of my colleagues back in college and
university who had similar body sizes as mine have since added up considerably.
However, I have somehow maintained my boyish skinny frame. I’ll be 30 in a
month and I barely weigh 70kg. Worse still, I maintain the worst kind of diet I
know. Food just doesn’t appeal to me. I could go a whole day without eating
anything solid and I wouldn’t feel a thing. In fact, my wife has turned my case
to a prayer point. </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Recently, I decided
to fix this issue permanently and so I did some serious research on a number of
nutrition sites online and got some prescriptions. I began a 30-day plan and
yesterday was Day 4. One of the medications was to boost my appetite for food
and I think things went a little too far yesterday and I exceeded my body’s
food intake limits, hence the constipation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I kept
running back and forth from the toilet and in spite of my eating a semblance of
the popular ‘Agege bread’ and taking extra doses of Flagyl to stop the
incessant stooling, I continued to visit the loo. In fact, I almost shit in my
pants as I drove back home from work later that evening. It was a very narrow
escape and if I had been five seconds later than the time I hit the toilet
bowl, I would have done the unthinkable. The experience reminded me of some
previous episodes I had many years back – experiences that made me agree
without any doubt that shit is no respecter of persons and could pass for a god
in its own right. It could animate you, constrain you, influence you and do
whatever to make you do its very own bidding regardless of your age, gender,
social status or even political affiliation for that matter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me relive these crazy episodes:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">2005</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I was about
twenty years old at the time and in my second year in University. On that
fateful day, I had experienced some tummy trouble in the morning and taken good
time in the bathroom to pass out all that needed to be passed out earlier in my
room before proceeding for lectures. I was a few minutes away from the lecture
hall when I felt a severe pang hit me again. It felt like I was going to give
birth to a baby in that instant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Oh God,
help me!” I muttered to myself as I stood still for fear of taking another step
lest I mess myself up right on campus with hundreds of people watching. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.meme.am/instances/500x/53699785.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgacm_opPjqkBLe0xVu4OkIOZXaw7Bq_OQ2bsZUZ0SR9tydU-RKEzv8te2cNczSHsmiQIorbXwaIb3e6QkfZg-mH1QY2QVHR-FaZddww_K0p2G9JuHitOgQ6vCefdWhoCwLujE292WxOmE0/s320/shitt.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.meme.am/instances/500x/53699785.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My legs suddenly
felt extra heavy as I calculated how long it would take me to climb up the
stairs to the nearest toilet facility which was about two floors away. The
thought of the state of that toilet repulsed me. Truth was, I had never used
the toilet on that floor before. The only time I ever ventured in, the state of
the place had been so terrible that I turned back and endured till I got back
to my room off campus. However, this time, enduring was totally out of the
question. I was more than ready to sit on maggots if need be just to save
myself from the impending embarrassment. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">On my wooden
legs, I took slow steps and gradually made it through the first floor. By now,
I was sweating so profusely that anyone would imagine I was wearing an
explosive jacket underneath my clothes. I looked ahead and I estimated that I
had about fifty footsteps to make it to the toilet. However, fifty steps felt
like a million steps at that moment. Suddenly, someone called out my name. I
shook and quickly caught myself. I surpressed a fart that seemed determined to
force its way out of me. Allowing a fart at that point was a huge risk I
couldn’t dare take. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Okey, a
course mate bounded up the stairs behind me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“How far,
Geebee. You sef just dey show?” he asked excitedly, hitting my behind casually
with his back pack. I could have died right then. In an instant, all hell was
let loose and the fart erupted carrying with it a good dose of excrement. The
hot feel of fresh poop on my bare behind was convincing enough. Ironically, I
felt lighter and better too. I winced.<br />
“Guy, you don make me shit for body.” I managed to say, wishing the ground
would just open up and swallow me right then.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My
coursemate looked at me as though I had told him I was carrying a bomb. He
backed away slowly as his eyes wandered to my ass.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Oboy! You dey
serious o!” he mouthed, trying hard not to burst out into a bout of laughter.
The look of amusement on his face was so annoying and if only I could at that
moment, I would choke him. It was his fault as it were. Why did he have to hit
me with his pack?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I nodded
shamefully as I passed my books to him. “Abeg escort me reach toilet” I quickly
said as I tried to walk as fast as I could. I could feel the thick slob
threatening to force its way through my boxers on to my pants. The smell was
beginning to spread through the air and I spotted some girls approaching. I
began to walk faster hardly noticing the eyes that had begun to trail us as we
made it to the second floor and headed towards the toilet. Okey had to call my
deputy class governor, Chi, a cute lady I had been eyeing for sometime to help
me get water to wash up because the water system in the toilet had stopped. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">When she
brought me the water, I was standing in my messed up boxers but I didn’t bloody
care. The surpressed grin on her face and her attempt to shield her nose from
the smell didn’t even bother me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Look! Shit
is no respecter of persons o!” I told her as I gratefully collected the bucket
of water. “I can imagine!” she said, still trying hard not to laugh. “Sorry
about this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It’s okay
to laugh. I won’t be angry.” I said on a final note as I shut the door. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I would bet
she almost laughed herself to death that day! After that day, I could never
muster up the courage to even talk to her about how I fancied her. The shit
episode had officially ruined any such possibilities. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I had to
wait in that disgusting place for another thirty minutes as Okey rushed to the
hostel to help me get a change of clothes. When I emerged from the toilet at
last, a lot of eyes were on me. I simply smiled. What else could I have done?
Till date, I believe that day was the most embarrassing day of my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I had a
similar experience about two years later but for time’s sake, I’ll talk about
that in the next post. All in all, these experiences and those of a few other
people I know have proved to me time and again that when shit hooks you, you
have no choice but to surrender yourself to its whims and caprices. It
practically becomes a god to you at that moment. It’s no wonder that Otunba
Gaddafi of the renowned DMT Mobile toilets has his tagline as: ‘Shit business
is serious business’. Trust me, that dude knows what he’s talking about. </span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-2034923034557598212015-06-02T07:11:00.001+01:002015-06-02T07:13:25.471+01:00THE PARABLE OF TREKKERS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Being a child was so much fun and at times I
wish I never grew up. I know it sounds crazy but that’s how I feel right now. Whenever
I look back and reminisce on those days, I wish I could sleep and wake up
twenty years younger and relive the experiences of childhood even if it were
just for one day. Adulthood and its huge share of responsibilities has a way of
cutting out all the fun and when you look back for a second at all you had to
forsake for the sake of growing up, you can’t but wince and sigh. That’s my
story presently. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Why do I say this? I realize it’s been almost
a year since I last dropped a post on this blog. Talk about one hell of a
hiatus! What have I been doing all this while? The only answer I could think of
right now is that I was being a responsible man – a husband, a father, a C.E.O,
a church minister and so many other things all at the same time. I should also
mention that since my last post, I have become a father to another beautiful
baby girl. She’s going to be nine months old in a few days time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Talk about time’s flight. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">At some point, I was beginning to think I
would never write anymore – really, I still feel that way. I’ve begun several
(emphasis on ‘several’) posts on my laptop in the last one year and after the
first five lines or the first paragraph, I would suddenly run out of steam and
stop. I’m actually hoping that doesn’t happen with this post as well. Of
course, the fact that you’re reading it shows that I made it this time and you
can’t imagine the extent of my elation on this singular achievement. Trust me; I
know what I mean here. Imagine a dancer suddenly losing his dancing skills or a
singer suddenly losing her voice; that’s how it has been for me in the last one
year. It just seemed as though things that used to be so easy to do became a bunch
of much hated chores. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">What really happened to me? I still don’t
know. I’ve tried to blame this on my ‘huge chunk of responsibilities’ but then,
I ask myself: Am I the first person with these responsibilities? Of course not!
There are lots of people with much more on their plate and they still find time
to fulfill their passions. Writing used to be a passion – a big one at that –
for me but somehow, that passion has continued to slip away. As much as I try to
shake it off, the resultant feeling hurts. I want to go back to those wonderful
days again and perhaps, now is the time!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3xg-MqRFY8pvZnSlYgLPfvaZWxnX9rg3ZFg6NeHTO1e9fSJR8_1MFmYbv6XHtr2Xxz4hRR46UEnYdJyeye-KOuzrMsGWQPtRwvsrQsms2y-AphdVpzCH3LCRpqnesska51iGYIRl8f-h/s1600/ladakh-trekking-markha-valley.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3xg-MqRFY8pvZnSlYgLPfvaZWxnX9rg3ZFg6NeHTO1e9fSJR8_1MFmYbv6XHtr2Xxz4hRR46UEnYdJyeye-KOuzrMsGWQPtRwvsrQsms2y-AphdVpzCH3LCRpqnesska51iGYIRl8f-h/s320/ladakh-trekking-markha-valley.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.notjusttreks.com/india/ladakh-trekking-markha-valley.html" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The spate of recent trekking embarked upon by
a number of Nigerians for particular reasons got me thinking. Initially, I
considered the idea as outright silly and stupid. For chrissakes, why go
through the stress of trekking all the way from Lagos to Abuja to show your
solidarity for a newly elected president? Why trek all the way from Abuja to
Bayelsa to show your appreciation for a sitting president who simply conceded
defeat in the polls? I believe there were numerous cases of trekkers all trying
to outdo one another. I even heard of a newly wedded couple who embarked on
another trek from Warri to Otuoke, Bayelsa and with their three-week old baby
in tow. The entire initiative sounded ludicrous to me and I simply considered
these people’s actions as baseless attempts to attract unnecessary attention to
themselves and curry some executive favour. I actually began to write a post on
it some weeks back but after the first paragraph . . . you know the rest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Regardless of my lack of conviction or
appreciation of what these people decided to do, I have to admit that they did
something heroic. They all set out to do what a greater number of Nigerians
would not do. The underlying connection they all share is their resilience and
determination. They refused to pay any heed to the possibility that people like
me would laugh at them and consider them silly or crazy. Most certainly, they
got discouraged by people around them who said it was a pointless act but they
decided they would do it anyway. The first man who did the trekking perhaps was
the real hero amongst them all by virtue of his position in being the pioneer
of the scheme. The others who came after him would probably have been ridiculed
and labeled as desperate imitators or copycats and the likes but they simply
didn’t give a shit. They decided to go ahead anyways and I have to salute them
for that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Getting my steam back is going to take a lot
of courage and determination. I would have to brush the dirt of my shoulders
and keep walking again. The more I sit back and look for excuses, the more time
keeps passing me by and in a flash; it would have been ten years since my last
post. I really wouldn’t want that for myself. I wouldn’t want to look back
sometime in the future and begin to smile and sigh as I remember ‘the good days
when I used to write’. I rather choose to look back then and remember the days
when I couldn’t write as well as I would be writing then. I want to look back
and remember days like this when it was hard to get back into the game but
still I did. That’s when I would be truly proud of myself. In spite of the
responsibilities and other things that seem to want to block out my original
passion, I choose to stick with that passion. Like Johnny Walker, I’m going to
keep walking! Or better still, I’ll keep trekking!</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-29203807454509504592014-09-21T13:10:00.000+01:002014-12-14T12:39:46.450+01:00THROUGH THEIR OWN EYES - Meph<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxrEeSNvOXLXUhXpoXEwrROACqSZPExgAcQW9NyJ2owlSBbA2nc5tq0n9qK_l6KkG2E3b-jeK5WZ1HBeoW5nkTATx04bl9DHBZxt7ez-xM4ZuLUpvzpYXIbCnGDwjfh-q18SHziNb8VRs/s1600/Mephibosheth.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxrEeSNvOXLXUhXpoXEwrROACqSZPExgAcQW9NyJ2owlSBbA2nc5tq0n9qK_l6KkG2E3b-jeK5WZ1HBeoW5nkTATx04bl9DHBZxt7ez-xM4ZuLUpvzpYXIbCnGDwjfh-q18SHziNb8VRs/s1600/Mephibosheth.png" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hey guys. I am Meph. Oh, you
haven’t heard the name before. Yeah, I know. It’s not your everyday name and
no, it’s not a short form for Memphis. God! That name reminds me of Egypt (not
that I’ve ever been there anyway. Lol). Well, Meph is a short form for
Mephibosheth and please, don’t even get started on that now and you may please
close your mouth now before some fly finds its way into it. I guess by now, you
see why I choose to go with Meph. The full name is definitely a jawbreaker, right?
Well, it ain’t my fault. Blame it on my dad or perhaps my grandpa or whoever
thought of such a name for me when I was born.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Did I tell you I am a prince? I
know it sounds unbelieveable. Kinda like when Lisa found out that Akeem was a
prince. What was that movie again????? Yeah, 'Coming to America'. Like really?
Who would look at me with my ugly face and lame feet and all and even think in
that direction. Hmmm, indeed man looks at the outward appearance. Only the Lord
looks beyond all that. I bet you my godfather, King David would agree with that
again and again. Seriously, I’m a prince or at least so I was told. Well,
technically, my dad, Jonathan should have been king after his dad, that is, my
granddad who was actually a king. Oh, finally you figured it out. My granddad
was King Saul, the first king of Israel and my dad, Jonathan was the crown
prince but somehow he didn’t quite become king by a strange turn of events
obviously orchestrated by the Almighty God. However, I don’t think that robs me
of my position as a prince or do you? Well, that’s your problem. I’m a prince
so you can call me Prince Meph if you choose.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Let me talk about my background
for a while. I never actually really knew my dad, Jonathan. In fact, I was
barely five years old when he died. I still have a vague memory of him though.
I learnt he used to come in once a while to check on me and my mum who I can
hardly remember as well. I was told dad was a very busy man and was usually
away with Grandpa attending to official national business. I learnt dad was
never really interested in becoming king someday much to grandpa’s chagrin. Of
course what would you expect? Even I would have been so pissed. Whoever turns
down an opportunity to be the king of Israel? Well, that’s my dad for you. Strange
dude, right? Yeah I know. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Anyways, I understand dad had his
reasons for not being keen on being king. For some reason, dad felt his best
friend, David would be a better king. Now, that still baffles me till this very
day and I’ll tell you why. David and my dad became best friends by a strange
twist of fate. There had been a time when some terrorist called Goliath came
along with the army of Philistia to threaten our country and no one dared fight
this man. I understand he was about ten feet tall and so huge. Now, who would
dare fight such a man? I know I wouldn’t. However, David was not like the rest
of the people. He was just a skinny kid back then and from one of the poorest
families in the city. In fact, I understand he was just an ordinary shepherd
boy. A freaking nobody! To everyone’s greatest surprise, he actually killed
Goliath with an ordinary sling and stone. It was overwhelming and that day, my
dad fell in love. Hey, no, I didn’t say he was gay. Of course if he was, I
wouldn’t have been born so banish the thought. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">David’s feat was unprecedented
and so he became so popular and everyone wanted a piece of this guy. Grandpa
didn’t like the idea that some little kid was becoming more popular than him
and he decided to get rid of him at all cost and that was where his issues with
my dad, his son began. Dad loved David so much like a brother and was
determined to ensure Grandpa never hurt him. I heard they even made a covenant
to love one another for ever and protect each other’s families. At some point,
David had to run for his life and Granddad actually got so obsessed with this
that he and thousands of his men set out searching for David to kill him. Now,
that’s another code I’m yet to crack. I mean, the king left his duties as king
to go after one single man. Well, I guess my granddad was another strange dude.
I heard that he had an evil spirit from the Lord tormenting him and making him
do ridiculous stuff. Sometime later, the guys from Philistia came to fight
against my country and it was in this war that grandpa, my dad and three of my
uncles were killed. It was some serious massacre as I learnt. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">By this time, Grandpa had become
so unpopular in Israel that everyone wanted to wipe out his entire family. My
uncle Ishbosheth was the only surviving legitimate son and soon, he was killed
too by his own servants. Crazy world, I know. As it stood, I was the only one
left; a five year old kid who didn’t even know jack about what was going on;
yet people were after my life. Beats me too! My nanny took me and together we
escaped. As we made our flight, I <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>fell and broke my legs.
We fled to some ghetto called Lodebar where I grew up away from the eyes of
those who sought to kill me. Little did anyone know that I was a prince and had
as much right to the throne as David, who had become king shortly after I
arrived at Lodebar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I got to go now. Next time, I’ll
tell you guys how I was eventually found out and how some soldiers stormed
Lodebar and took me back to Israel to face what could easily be my worst
nightmare!</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-45313523528366520602013-12-20T08:55:00.001+01:002013-12-20T08:55:21.111+01:00THE CURRENCY SYSTEM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZUvgCmYgnozLDoWws2rfl7oi_ghzhvN2U8IR8TtNLGCd8a-zhlfy4UBMHXcNf_mlr-q1RtDKeP-kCSAIxctBfPIj_nvkkBJkbVtrN2uq-t5a6m-Fu_nfhoYIiCDeVmugK1oDgj3OkQEF/s1600/time_is_money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZUvgCmYgnozLDoWws2rfl7oi_ghzhvN2U8IR8TtNLGCd8a-zhlfy4UBMHXcNf_mlr-q1RtDKeP-kCSAIxctBfPIj_nvkkBJkbVtrN2uq-t5a6m-Fu_nfhoYIiCDeVmugK1oDgj3OkQEF/s320/time_is_money.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt;">The mystery of time continues to
surprise and indeed overwhelm me. Someone once said time is the currency of
life.</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt;">Back in middle school, we were
taught about the ‘currency system’ and how it works. Depending on whatever currency
is in operation wherever you live, your acce</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt;">ss to that currency gives you a
right to make certain demands and they are automatically met, as long as you
can match that demand with the appropriate currency and the adequate amount. In
some cases, you have to spend physical currency – notes, coins etc. and in
some, you do the barter thing, where you exchange something for something else,
more like a case of ‘scratch my back; I scratch your back’. In the final
analysis, it all boils down to satisfaction. You spend whatever currency you
have to get a form of satisfaction. You smile at a guy and he becomes
interested in talking to you. You help an old lady cross the road and she
appreciates you and says a word of prayer for you. You work for a specified
period and you receive salary or wages. The currency system itself is what
drives life and the <b>currency of life itself is time</b>. Whatever you get out of
life is determined by the amount of time you are willing to spend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The stages in life today have
greatly evolved and continue to change form. A child is born; he passes through
the infant stage, then the toddler stage, then the young child/preteen stage,
teenage stage, the adolescent stage and then becomes a full adult. Soon,
depending on the person’s perspective, he gets married or not, lives on and all
things being equal, grows old and dies. End of story. All through this life
process, time remains the currency that determines what is gotten out of life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sometimes, I try to reflect on
which part of my life has been my favourite so far. Of the periods I can
clearly remember, I try to make a choice between my later childhood, teenage
stage, adolescence, adult stage or the stage I presently am – as a husband and
a father with responsibilities to my immediate family; as a businessperson and
my responsibilities to my clients and society in general or as an employer and
my responsibilities to my staff and other colleagues, to mention but a few. I
realize that in the short period of my existence, I have always had to make use
of this currency called time. Now, the question of whether I spent my currency
wisely or not is for me to answer. Now, which would be the favourite part of my
life so far?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje12aoXR8sT0Z1vdEsVe5EU747XGwrtDX-P59ZdmzIGA0eMwHq3O_gi6dXBptg0G5kRwNazYBeBVTSJXkz3Dv-RToLY52mCDerMU7St95PZ0dBmYF9B-OLiTigrhTjem9G34gt4NsDwm8-/s1600/time-is-currency-1367279174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje12aoXR8sT0Z1vdEsVe5EU747XGwrtDX-P59ZdmzIGA0eMwHq3O_gi6dXBptg0G5kRwNazYBeBVTSJXkz3Dv-RToLY52mCDerMU7St95PZ0dBmYF9B-OLiTigrhTjem9G34gt4NsDwm8-/s320/time-is-currency-1367279174.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">That question brings mixed
feelings of all sorts. If I decided that I preferred a particular period of my
life, wouldn’t that imply that I despise the other periods of my life and by
extension, the people I had the opportunity of associating with in those
periods? If I decided that I love all the periods of my life equally, wouldn’t
that downplay the tough moments in those periods and the regrettable
experiences or actions I had cause to be a part of during those periods? I
therefore choose to take the middle ground and say every part of my life so far
has been a mixture of ups and downs, good and bad, nice and scary – the best of
both worlds. I guess that is the way the Creator planned it to be, all in a bid
to ensure we grow right and become what we are supposed to become. Have you
ever thought for a minute why the beautiful rose grows in the midst of thorns
or why the nice looking tongue is surrounded by a set of sharp teeth? That’s
how life is supposed to be!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A recent experience gave me a
reason to smile and sigh. I discovered Hellofood. Today, as a married man, I
hardly visit the kitchen for anything at all. Yeah, feel free to call me
‘traditional’. In fact, even in my days as a bachelor or a ‘free guy’ as some
like to call it, the kitchen had always been my least favourite part of the
house. I hardly have the time or patience to prepare my own food or even wait
while food is being prepared (ask my wife. Lol). Now, this is not because I
hate food or don’t like eating but because I hardly have that luxury of time.
However, I don’t feel different or strange because I know there are hundreds of
thousands and indeed millions of similar people in Nigeria, especially in the
commercial cities like Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt etc. We love good food and
we want to eat but we don’t have the time!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Now, imagine you could simply
pick up your phone or make a few mouse clicks to request for whatever type of
food you want, selecting the exact restaurant you want the meal ordered from
and within minutes, you have your food right where you are – be it at home or
in the office. And wait for it, all these at an affordable cost! Now, that’s
what’s up, if you ask me! That’s outsourcing at the highest order. Hellofood
has come to solve our time and food problems, taking the burden of thinking of
what, where and how to eat off our shoulders and allowing us concentrate on the
more important things and indeed spending our currency of time wisely in life.
Check out their </span><a href="http://www.hellofood.com.ng/"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> and get literally blown away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So that’s it, folks. Let’s call
this a Christmas Special. I wish you all a Merry Christmas! I hope to see you
again before the New Year! Ciao!</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-9778200861375855572013-09-13T23:01:00.000+01:002013-09-13T23:01:17.085+01:00TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH Part 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37ZKkViqdaQ34PJ1reAQJHgTTwHbBy-4A0H4RKyxClGXEaD9nnHPCtT00A-dmA7NIFo-0Jby-Q2cTbs_xnAPXq6HFRWcto5kCHjzE317BqMuCawud-oFe8eS4DNjVzAAIguIm83CozdsB/s1600/Don__t_touch_my_sister_by_omittchi-726110.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Read Part 1 <b><a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2013/04/to-love-and-to-cherish_3894.html?m=0" target="_blank">H E R E</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Read Part 2 <b><a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2013/04/to-love-and-to-cherish-part-2.html?m=0" target="_blank">H E R E</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thoughts raced through my mind at an alarming speed. I could hardly concentrate and held on to the steering wheel a little tighter causing my long nails to dig into my palms and force some pain. I realized I was drunk. Okay, maybe half drunk, I assured myself as I recalled how I had taken a deep swig out of the Vodka bottle and nearly emptied its contents as I stood by my car in the parking lot. I had managed to leave the bar with a lot of eyes trailing me with disdain after settling my bill and paying some extra for the broken glasses. I caught the disappointment in Stacy's eyes one last time before stepping out into the night. To hell with that! I said to myself. She was just a freaking waiter and Lord knows I could have a hundred girls who were hotter, finer and definitely not waiters!
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37ZKkViqdaQ34PJ1reAQJHgTTwHbBy-4A0H4RKyxClGXEaD9nnHPCtT00A-dmA7NIFo-0Jby-Q2cTbs_xnAPXq6HFRWcto5kCHjzE317BqMuCawud-oFe8eS4DNjVzAAIguIm83CozdsB/s1600/Don__t_touch_my_sister_by_omittchi-726110.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5923174052128360610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37ZKkViqdaQ34PJ1reAQJHgTTwHbBy-4A0H4RKyxClGXEaD9nnHPCtT00A-dmA7NIFo-0Jby-Q2cTbs_xnAPXq6HFRWcto5kCHjzE317BqMuCawud-oFe8eS4DNjVzAAIguIm83CozdsB/s320/Don__t_touch_my_sister_by_omittchi-726110.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did not know who to hate more at that moment – Mike or Anita. For the moment, I settled on Anita. I had always known all women were bitches. That's what my dad had fed into my head right after mum walked out on us two days after my seventh birthday. Anita had barely started walking then. However, I always made an exception when it came to my kid sister. She was the apple of my eyes in the very essence of the word. I could do anything for her, even die for her if I had to. I loved her that much. In fact, I had practically raised her myself. I was her big brother, her friend, her confidant, her everything! When my dad had been so heartbroken and never wanted to have anything to do with her because she was the splitting image of mum and reminded him too much of her, it was me who had shouldered the responsibility of being the dad she never had. It had taken so many years for dad to finally accept her and love her as a father and it was I who had made
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">that possible. Now, Anita was going ahead to stab me in the back!
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I cast my mind back to my best friend, no scratch that; my now ex-best friend. Where did Mike find the audacity to try my patience like this? How could he do this to me? Our friendship had transformed into an unbreakable brotherhood over the years right from the first day we met when I had gone to submit a late assignment.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Would you get out of my office before I spit on you?" Dr. Ese Idioko screamed.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I shook and got on my knees quickly. "I am sorry ma." I pleaded. "I was not in school when you gave the assignment ma. I had to leave school to take care of my sick sister and I just returned yesterday . . ."
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Then, go and submit your assignment to your sick sister", the woman said, flashing me a look of disgust. "You first year students act as though you are still in secondary school. Please leave my office, boy!"
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I felt tears well up in my eyes. I had stayed awake all night to get this work done as soon as my roommate informed me of the deadline when I returned to school the previous day. I couldn't bear to start my first year with a carry-over in FMS 110. I resigned to my fate and was about to get up when I heard a voice.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Mum, please allow him."
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked at the direction the voice had come from and noticed a young man of about my age seated at a corner of the office.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Michael, don't get me upset this afternoon, you hear me!" Dr. Idioko lashed out at the young man. "How many times have I told you not to interfere whenever I am dealing with my students?"
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I'm sorry, mum", the boy apologized. "It's just that . . ." He broke off as his mother's angry stare intensified. I was a little confused. Apparently, I had started a war between mother and son. He looked in my direction and flashed me a 'sorry-pal-I've-done-my-best' look.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Are you still there?" she said as her gaze settled on me.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I got up in an instant and mouthed a quick apology as I headed for the door, wondering how I would recover the 20 marks I had just thrown away in the course.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Wait!"
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I turned and felt hope building up in me. "Yes ma'am"
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Submit it over there" she said, pointing to a huge stack of papers I assumed to belong to my colleagues. I obeyed and prostrated in appreciation. "Thank you ma. God bless you ma."
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Don't thank me. Thank him!" she said dismissively as she looked over at her son. The boy smiled mischievously. "Thanks mum" he muttered with a wink.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Thanks sir" I said after a quick rumination of how to address him. He looked about my age but he had saved me and so was ready of all the respect I could accord him at that moment. He simply smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That was the day I met Mike.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We bumped into each other in a campus restaurant some days and I insisted on paying for his food in spite of his refusal. We had a long chat and I realized he was in a second year student of Civil Engineering, a course his mum detested. Had she had her way, she would have wanted him to go into the Management Sciences. He was her only child, a product of a failed relationship with his father, a man he barely knew. She had never remarried.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"My mum is like ten men rolled up in the body of a woman" He said, "But no matter what, she's still a woman!"
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From that day forward, Mike and I became like two peas in a pod. In fact, before long, I was Dr. Idioko's favourite student of FMS 110 and I ended up scoring an A in the course. I became a regular in the Idioko household and even lived there all through my second year when I had accommodation problems. Mike and I also did a lot of bad things together – things that still haunt me – and it was for this reasons I could not bear to see him marry my sister.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought about my sister as I turned into my street. Anita was about to make the biggest mistake of her life and I was never going to allow her make such a mistake. Not while I was alive. First thing tomorrow morning, I was going to call her up and ask her to come and see me. Then, I would give her the talk.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I pulled into my driveway, my headlights flashed on a figure seated on my front porch. I squinted to have a better look. For an instant, I thought I saw Stacy, the waiter. Good heavens! Was I dreaming? It had to be the booze! As I moved closer, I had a better view. It was Anita! I was shocked beyond words. Speak of the devil! The lights settled on her as I brought the car to a halt. I realized my sister had been crying her eyes out!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Watch out for TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH Part 4</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-8223866661003870942013-08-31T22:28:00.001+01:002013-09-01T00:03:27.479+01:00IF I WERE A B . . . <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember the first time I heard
Beyonce's 'If I were a boy'. That song seemed to make a lot of sense initially
but then, in the same manner the most interesting routines tend to get boring
over time, the song soon began to irritate the hell out of me. I began to feel
like 'If you were a boy and you would do this or that, who cares?' Would it
bring down the price of garri? Besides, such wishes or dreams were best left
unexpressed. If Beyonce really wanted to be a boy, it wasn't impossible. We
have transgenderists all over the place so why sing about it and keep it as a
wish. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaUaxQxTJqj7tEnAVjH9qBIvhlyeGHuHwSsfCqZW2XZX9JHyRW-5q-M6obps3jxLrBU5qKdU6Jp-TJc1ko9isSiNU7XT5CFi9KKhNyh24mt7T3zWQdYStwA9ZnbjkULNY2n1inQIPbpRa/s1600/if+i+were+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaUaxQxTJqj7tEnAVjH9qBIvhlyeGHuHwSsfCqZW2XZX9JHyRW-5q-M6obps3jxLrBU5qKdU6Jp-TJc1ko9isSiNU7XT5CFi9KKhNyh24mt7T3zWQdYStwA9ZnbjkULNY2n1inQIPbpRa/s320/if+i+were+you.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.google.com.ng/search?q=if+i+were+a+boy&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=iXMiUsr_BcuN7AaP7IDgCQ&sqi=2&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1280&bih=699#q=if+i+were+you&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=KzqqDO6CPK1SGM%3A%3B0_xrVE5PJlPRtM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.kdl.org%252Fimage_attachments%252F0002%252F9862%252F51cnusbeu3l.jpg%253F1300735456%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.kdl.org%252Fcategories%252F1016%252Fbooks%252F9543%3B500%3B445" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Source</span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She's got the money to make that happen anyway so why not get on with it
and spare me all that crap. Anyways, that was just my anger talking . . . my
anger at JayZ for being the one to sweep a princess like Beyonce off her feet
when there were finer looking guys like me out there. Yes! I reiterate. I am
way, way, way finer than JayZ! (Like, the guy is even fine at all!) But then,
like Beyonce's wish wouldn't likely ever happen, that wish of mine (if it ever
was one) was definitely a wild dream. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, I heard some news sometime last week
that I'm still yet to recover from. Now, y'all know normally I don't do gossip
and all of that (If I ever tried that, it would take me several lifetimes to
get to where the likes of Bella and Linda are) but I just had to talk about
this because it affected me personally. In fact I haven't been the same ever
since. On a positive note however, the experience taught me one or two things
about life and the fact that no one is invincible. I wouldn't necessarily call
myself 'overly religious' (Like, the word even exists) but I am someone who
believes in and loves God with all of my being. In my little time on earth, God
has shown me what it truly feels like to have a father. He's been a father in
more ways than I can imagine. Well, that's a story for another day. However, if
you've followed 'The Geebee Chronicles' series, you'd be able to have a little
understanding of what I mean. Now back to my personality. I have always craved
the knowledge of God in more ways than I can remember, right from the days of
my childhood when I did so blindly and in my naiveté even till the days when I
went so far away from him and indulged myself in the most unimaginable vices
possible. Yet, deep inside me, I constantly felt that longing for him and that
call of a father to a runaway son. Thankfully, I found my way back and keep
finding that path that shines day by day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In my quest for God, I have had cause to
study the Bible, volumes of Christian literature, religious books and listened
to teachers of the word of God. In fact, I have a few preachers I label as my
special ones - both here in Nigeria and internationally. These men and women
have helped in a great deal to shape my understanding of deep spiritual things
and while I wouldn't claim any of them to be perfect, I make bold to label them
as my mentors of some sort. Pastor B happens to be one of my top ten in that
regard. I have sat under his ministration a number of times and even in absentia,
I could spend thousands of naira buying his tapes and CDs and I never ever feel
the same after listening to him even when I have to listen over and over
again. He is one of the men of God I respect, and trust me, there ain’t
too many of them. Now, imagine my shock when I read Ese Walter’s story and the
follow-up stories and buzzes all over the social networks. All I could think to
myself was ‘Why Pastor B?’ ‘It shouldn’t be him’. ‘Wow! This is sad!’ ‘No, it
can’t be true’ etc. I guess I felt and still feel this way because of the
sentimental attachment I have towards him. Now, I’m trying to put myself in his
shoes and imagine what I would do if I were in ‘the eye of the storm’ as it’s been
touted around hence the title, ‘If I were a B . . .’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first scenario of course would be if
the stories being peddled around were not true. If I were a B . . . I would:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- Cry
my eyes out for<s> hours </s>days asking God ‘Why me?’, and like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, plead with God to let this cup pass over me. Haba! If
this was supposed to be a trial of faith, mehn, that’s pretty tough, don’t you
think?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- Come
out openly to deny the story and not ‘decide to keep silent’, well, except if
God actually tells me to. After all, God told the children of Israel to ‘stand
still and see his salvation’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- <!--[endif]-->Comfort
my wife and stay strong for her. Y’all know women are so chicken-hearted in
situations like this and they tend to feel the shock more than men. Even Sarah,
Abraham’s wife got to a point where she was ready to give up and take the easy
way out through Hagar, her slave. Come on! Don’t stare like that. Go and read
your bibles joor! lol</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Keep
praying to God for my accusers (now, that’s a difficult one) that God should touch
their hearts and make them repent of the evil they were doing. Remember, on the
cross, our Lord, Jesus Christ asked God to forgive those who crucified him for
they know not what they do. </span><s style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Although, in the deepest recesses of my heart, I
would want to be like Elijah and call down fire from heaven to consume those
false accusers.</s></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These are a few of the things I would do
if I were a B . . . and the stories aren’t true! But then, like Beyonce noted,
I am not a B . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, on to the second scenario. If the stories
are actually true . . . deep sigh! <s>I wouldn’t even want to be a B . . . in
the first place in that case!</s> If I were a B . . . then I would:</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Act
like David did after he had Uriah killed, and took his wife and was rebuked by God’s prophet. I would cry out to God for</span><s style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> days </s><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">the rest of my life if I
have to, for his mercy. I would spread before him in sackcloth and ashes and
fast and pray for as long as my spirit can bear for him to have mercy on me and
restore me to right standing with him.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">- Make an open confession and ask for the
forgiveness of my wife and for her prayers and support too. In fact, it would
be at a time like this that her support would mean the world to me.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">- Ask
for the forgiveness of my</span><s style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> false </s><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">accusers (oh, they wouldn’t be false in
this scenario, would they?) and make any appropriate restitution.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">- Ask for the forgiveness of my followers and
like the prodigal son, tell them I am no longer worthy to be their Shepherd and
they should also pray for me that God would have mercy on me.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">- Hand
over my church to capable hands and proceed on a soul-searching journey of at
least one year, preferably outside my immediate location to go and get myself
back on track with God and await his directives on what next to do.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These and much more are some of the things
I would do if I were a B . . . but then, I am not a B . . . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As the wise ones say, it is he that wears
the shoes that knows where it hurts the most. Like Beyonce’s song, all I have
noted above are just gibberish. I have to be in the shoes to know what I would actually
do. However, I need to stress the fact that we should understand that no man
regardless of how powerful and anointed is a superman. We are mere men (and
women) and are susceptible to vices of all sorts. It is only the grace of God
that keeps us from falling. Let he that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he
falls. 1 Cor. 10:12<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How was that for a comeback post? It feels
good to be back in these parts again. I hope to stay around for a while. I
promise to drop the concluding parts of ‘TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH’ in subsequent
posts. Thanks for keeping faith with a runaway blogger like me. Cheers!<s><o:p></o:p></s></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-19417442526228224652013-04-22T14:22:00.001+01:002013-04-22T14:50:56.749+01:00TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3VZfF2TI9dk6sUbxfT0tUpUqeO6I4sTPhtpF8y4l2ioNYiRwlYojqdoDoiZK8PjfnxRTDh8qaS-UszG4Q2ZLfTilNlT9wOkKSjcpv3E7k7_Pwkukm8EG3j_-OdvD4CRKR7Hz9spsyVBXM/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253Fc2FkLW1hbi1zaWxob3VldHRlLmpwZw%253D%253D%253F%253D-785979" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5869630670307556050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3VZfF2TI9dk6sUbxfT0tUpUqeO6I4sTPhtpF8y4l2ioNYiRwlYojqdoDoiZK8PjfnxRTDh8qaS-UszG4Q2ZLfTilNlT9wOkKSjcpv3E7k7_Pwkukm8EG3j_-OdvD4CRKR7Hz9spsyVBXM/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253Fc2FkLW1hbi1zaWxob3VldHRlLmpwZw%253D%253D%253F%253D-785979" /></a></div>
Read the first part <a href="http://www.gbengasile.com/2013/04/to-love-and-to-cherish_3894.html">HERE</a><br />
<br />
I stared at Mike as if he had just told me he swallowed a frog or something. Really, it would have made more sense if that was what I heard especially considering what I thought I just heard.<br />
"I don't understand you", I said, meaning it. If I said I understood what my best friend was telling me at that moment, I would easily pass for a big-time liar. I looked at him closely wondering if he had probably had too much to drink but the irony of it all was our order was yet to even be served. I had ordered a bottle of Martini and I definitely knew one couldn't get high on something that was yet to be tasted. In fact, at that moment, I knew I needed something stronger - Vodka perhaps.<br />
<br />
Mike sighed. "Tony, I really don't know how to begin to explain this. It's all coming out wrong but please."<br />
"You bet your ass it's all coming out wrong." I cut in. "In fact, you have to be the biggest clown alive to sell me that trick. It's working though." I added with a chuckle. I looked towards the bar in irritation. What the hell was wrong with these bartenders? I muttered inaudibly. It had been barely five minutes since I made my order but it felt like we had been waiting for an hour. <br />
<br />
I got up without a word and headed towards the bar. I had barely moved when I collided with someone. In a flash I caught the contents of her tray before they spilled onto the floor. I politely steadied her touching her upper arms and muttering a quick apology. I spotted the Martini and two glasses in the tray.<br />
"Sorry sir. Your drink?" a cute and tall girl said in a voice that reminded me of some girl I used to know. My intention when I got up from my chair had been to go and vent my anger at my delayed order but somehow, I found myself smiling. Indeed, this chic was cute but that wasn't even the issue right now, was it? Mike was! No, not Mike in fact. Mike's words were!<br />
<br />
"Thanks . . . Stacy" I said, as I caught her name tag hooked just above her left breast. I acknowledged again to myself that she really did look cute - my kind of girl! But then, that wasn't an issue to pursue right now.<br />
"Please could you make it something stronger? Vodka preferably."<br />
Stacy seemed surprised but she smiled all the same. Wow! That smile was a sight for sore eyes! I'm definitely taking this one home with me, I decided . . . as soon as I was done dealing with Mike and his impossible dreams! I returned to my table to see my best friend looking like one who had just been informed of his impending castration. The brief time-out had been worth it. I felt better, I had to admit. My head was clearer to hear whatever he had to say or had been trying to say.<br />
<br />
"If I understand you at all, a case I really doubt anyway, you're saying you and Anita . . . " I broke off. No way! There was no way in hell this was going to come out of my mouth.<br />
"Tony, I'm sorry! I should have come to you first but things happened so suddenly."<br />
"Are you crazy?" I heard myself say in a voice that didn't at all sound like mine. "Things happened suddenly? What things? Look here, don't you dare fuck with me, okay!"<br />
Mike sighed. "Tony, the thing is I love her and I want to make her happy for as long as I live."<br />
<br />
I looked around the crowded enclosure. The rotating disco lights and ear-splitting music pumping from the speakers fuelled my rage. I wished I could reach over and punch the living daylights out of this bastard right before me. What the hell did Mike think he was saying?<br />
"You love her and want to make her happy for as long as you live?" I repeated Mike's words to him. "Do you hear yourself. You sound like a freaking idiot! You want to love and make someone happy? You! Come on, cut the bullshit, okay! I'm really hanging by a thread right now and I'm trying not to lose my head."<br />
<br />
The waiter arrived with my order and smiled as she arranged the bottle and glasses on the table. I slipped my complimentary card into her palms and returned her smile. I looked on as she walked away swaying her hips seductively. Now, that's what's up, I said to myself.<br />
"Tony what's wrong with me being with your sister? Mike asked confidently.<br />
I looked at him as I worked off the seal of the bottle.<br />
"Everything, partner! Everything!" I said angrily. "You can't be with my sister. Not you, Mike!"<br />
"You think I'm not good enough for her?" he asked, his gaze fixed on me.<br />
"Yes! My point exactly!" I said coldly as I poured some drink into my glass. I poured some into Mike's glass as well.<br />
I put the glass to my lips and swallowed its contents. I felt the spirit light up a fire inside me. Martini, my ass! This Vodka was a perfect choice.<br />
"She's too good for you, Mike!" I finished and set down my glass with more force than was necessary.<br />
<br />
My best friend was incensed and I was ready to watch him burst in flames or even drop dead - anything at all to get him away from my sister.<br />
"That was someone's sister you just made moves on, you bastard!" Mike lashed at me.<br />
"Who?" I asked, wondering what the hell Mike was talking about before it suddenly dawned on me. "Oh! The waiter? Come on, loser. She's just a freaking waiter, mehn! Do you know how many guys have tapped that ass or being in there? Please don't gimme that crap!"<br />
"You're a damned hypocrite, Tony!" Mike retorted. <br />
"What the hell are you trying to tell me here, Mike?" I blurted out. I could feel the Vodka running through my veins. My friend was yet to even touch his glass. "You sit your ass there telling me you've been seeing my sister all this while right behind my back and . . ."<br />
"And I told you I'm sorry about that, Tony!" Mike cut in.<br />
"To hell with your apologies!" I screamed! "You betrayed me, mehn! You stabbed me, bro! How could you?"<br />
Mike sat speechless! I could feel tears sting in my eyes as I spoke but I didn't care. Indeed I was hurt!<br />
"Now you sit there telling me you love Anita and you want to make her happy as long as you live! How do you plan to do that, player?"<br />
Mike sighed. "I love Anita with all of my heart, Tony! Please, just . . ."<br />
"You don't love her man!" I shouted and banged the table! The impact caused the glasses to topple and I had to catch the open Vodka bottle again as it almost dropped to the ground. The contents of Mike's glass splashed right on him and shattered as it hit the floor. My glass rolled off the table and shattered too. Mike looked at me and I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes. Not that it mattered anyway. <br />
"I'm sorry man!" He said as he got up and walked away.<br />
<br />
I sighed frustratingly and realized for the first time that many eyes were on me at that moment. Damn! I had attracted unnecessary attention. Two men approached my table and I noticed name tags on them.<br />
"Is everything okay, sir?" The taller of the two asked politely.<br />
"Yeah fine!" I quickly said, setting down the Vodka bottle on the table. "Just a little excitement. Sorry. It's okay, I'll pay for the damages." I reached into my trousers to get my wallet. Stacy came to join the men at my table and our eyes met but she wasn't smiling this time. I winced. <br />
<br />
Ten minutes later, I was on the expressway heading home. I couldn't shake off the hurt and pain I felt. I thought about my sister. Why had Anita allowed this to happen? How could she betray me like this? I wondered how many times Mike had slept with her in the last three months since I introduced them. It was none of my business who my sister dated; she was 26 for chrissakes! But when it had to be my best friend, then it had become my business! There was no way I was going to let this continue. It could be anyone else but not Mike! I cared about my sister too much to let her make such a costly mistake. Mike was just like me! We didn't deserve good women! Especially not after the way we had lived our lives. I didn't care if I lost my best friend (like I hadn't lost him already). I was going to fight this with all I had.<br />
<br />
Watch out for TO LOVE AND CHERISH Part 3.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-43674833620062011722013-04-14T21:43:00.000+01:002013-04-15T01:33:59.091+01:00TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Does anyone have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?"<br />
<br />
My heart skipped a beat. Was this question really necessary? I winced. The instant silence that pervaded the massive enclosure was frustrating. I suppressed the urge to let out a sneeze. Even a rattling chair or a dropping coin would have punctured the silence considerably. Really, I could do without the attention.<br />
<br />"Speak now or forever remain silent!" the bald and bespectacled Reverend Father finished.<br />
<br />
The discomfort I was feeling increased a tad. I hoped my sudden change <br />
in countenance wasn't obvious to the rest of the people in the massive Cathedral. Screw them! I decided. What if it was obvious? Would that change anything? I slowly allowed my gaze wander a few paces to my left and for a second, the old clergyman's eyes and mine met. He smiled at me warmly before turning his attention to the congregation before him. I shivered! Why had the priest smiled at me in such manner? It hadn't been just a casual smile, I was sure of that! It was a 'knowing' smile, a smile that meant something. Perhaps, the old man could actually read my mind and he knew what was going on in it. Perhaps, that 'smile' had meant "Beat it loser! You lost."<br />
<br />
What? Had I actually lost? Hell no! As it were, the ball was still in my court. I still had the cards and the dealer's hand. My eyes continued their slow travel and settled on Mike. He must have felt me staring as he tilted his head in my direction. Our gazes held for a moment and he smiled too before quickly averting his gaze and focusing on the clergyman in front of us. There had been something different about Mike's smile. It had been nervous and forced; totally unlike Reverend Flynn's. I had sensed the insecurity in his smile and I knew why it was so. At that moment, I had the power to alter the entire course of the day and Mike knew this too. I considered what it would mean if I decided to use my powers at that moment.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I have a reason!" I spoke out, loud enough for every single ear of the hundred or more people sitting in the pews to capture. Suddenly, there was pandemonium. The seeming graveyard became an instant market place. Mike's knees went weak and for a second, he looked like he was standing on wobbling legs. Reverend Flynn's grey moustache looked as though it would crawl up his nose with the frown that contorted his face. I wondered what the confusion was all about. The clergyman had asked a question and all I had done was respond. I had a reason why I thought the couple should not get married after all, so what the hell was wrong with everyone? <br />
<br />
It was while I assessed the situation that I noticed the old man who had led the bride to the altar earlier in the service. He looked as though he would drop dead any minute. The look on his face was that of pain, heartbreak and despair. As our eyes met, the tears flowed down his face. I could tell that the old man would never remain the same again. I turned away from him and almost immediately observed the small crowd around me. Mike, the priest and some others had gathered around someone. The heartbroken old man hurriedly made his way to the front. I moved closer and realized the bride had fainted and the people around were making attempts to revive her. My heart went out to my father and my sister.<br />
<br />
I shook as I felt a nudge on my shoulder. It was Mike and that was his way of silently telling me to focus. He smiled again and I smiled back. My smile was not borne out of affection for him but from the events that had just taken place in my heart moments ago. No, I couldn't ruin my sister's wedding day or break my father's heart because of my selfishness. I had to let it go. I realized I would have to live with the fact that my best friend was marrying my sister and yet there I stood with him as his best man! The thought made me cringe with revulsion like it had always made me feel right from the very first day Mike told me he loved my sister.<br />
<br />
It all felt just like yesterday . . .<br />
<br />
TO BE CONTINUED<br />
<br />
Hey y'all. Please don't mind my disappearing acts. Unexplainable reasons but it feels good to be back. THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES would officially be on hold till further notice. I hope to explain why later. I shall be featuring a number of mini-series here indefinitely and I'll be glad to welcome you on board. You just read the first part of 'TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH'. Watch out for the next episode.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-34412359973052782482013-01-08T09:53:00.000+01:002013-01-08T21:54:59.502+01:00ON A LOT OF THINGS - RESOLUTIONS, BOOK SYNOPSIS/EXCERPT, A BLAST FROM THE PAST.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrByBLhIagmI9LX-bHM1glxWulfvH0gZL6ne7pIosnslhNN5lppJEF1XmPeaSELu27RhtBCqeLNAM94JZD24P8yuHuADbVpPn-av9NZA-nsMDFrhpwz0lC5308AmyRvxFCVtnSvadL8-Qc/s1600/Screen_20130103_004823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrByBLhIagmI9LX-bHM1glxWulfvH0gZL6ne7pIosnslhNN5lppJEF1XmPeaSELu27RhtBCqeLNAM94JZD24P8yuHuADbVpPn-av9NZA-nsMDFrhpwz0lC5308AmyRvxFCVtnSvadL8-Qc/s320/Screen_20130103_004823.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I recently came across
this picture on Twitter and it took a little while for it to sink in. Now,
before you begin to consider me ‘stupid’ or ‘dumb’, try assuming that my brain
is a little too advanced to process seemingly simple things like that. Lol.
Anyways, after a little consideration, the import of the response of the little dog hit me. Most of us have at one time or the other been bitten by the ‘New
Year’s Resolution’ bug and we’ve found ourselves making decisions on the things
we intend to begin to do or cease to do, the things we want to do some more or
cut down on, the people we want to begin to talk to or not talk to anymore etc.
The list goes on and on. In fact, many of us actually go on and list it out in
a ‘To do’ list format like our dog in the picture noted. I did this a lot, even
until a few years ago and I know a lot of people who still do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, I have
nothing against New Year Resolutions but I’ve often wondered about two
scenarios. First, why do these resolutions they have to be made or proposed to
become effected at the beginning of the year. Do you really have to wait till
the beginning of a New Year to make that decision to stop drinking, smoking,
begin to do your laundry yourself, cut down on fatty and junk foods, go out
some more, attend church services more consistently etc. As the saying goes, ‘what
you have to do, do quick’ or ‘Make hay while the sun shines’. You don’t have to
put off till January 1<sup>st</sup> what you could have done in the previous
year’s August, November or December. The next point has more to do with the
picture above. The funny thing about these resolutions is that a large chunk of
them actually get broken within the first few days, weeks or at best within the
first few months of the New Year. Believe me, most of mine in the past hardly
last till February and that was one of the reasons I got tired of making them.
I just decide I will do this or won’t do that anymore regardless of whenever
the period is and usually, it’s not even at the beginning of the year.
Sometimes, it works and sometimes it doesn’t. My conclusion is, it’s all a part
of being human! Yeah, lame excuse, thank you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, before I
forget, let me say ‘Happy New Year’ to you all. Yeah I know it’s belated but
technically, we are still in the first week of the year so <i>abegi!</i> May this year bring
you unprecedented blessings and goodwill in all your endeavours and compared
with all previous years you’ve experienced, may 2013 stand out significantly as
the best year ever for you. AMEN. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I know it’s the
beginning of the year and all that but I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a
favour so here it is. Last year May, I completed my first book, editing and all
(done by our own special Atilola) around and had hoped to publish (resolution?)
before the end of the year but somehow I couldn’t get to doing that. I hope to
do that this time around (Okay! Yes, resolution! lol). The book has/had a title
but somehow, lately I haven’t been feeling it so I’m kinda hoping y’all would
lend a helping hand here. *In Dettol ad voice* After all, If you guys don’t
help, who will? I’m going to drop the synopsis. So here it is:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">SYNOPSIS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">The setting of
the story is mainly in two Nigerian cities, </span><b style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Port</b><span style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><b style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Harcourt</b><span style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"> and </span><b style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Lagos</b><span style="font-family: 'Poor Richard', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">. The central characters are
united through the similarities they share in being haunted by past experiences
that have shaped their outlooks on life and love. They thus find themselves
unconsciously restricted from taking plunges in the present as they remain
stranded in the emotional wastelands of their past. It is a book with diverse
and multifaceted characters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When <b>Isioma Nwokocha</b>,<b> </b>daughter and heir of late Chief Timothy Nwokocha finds out two
weeks to her wedding that her fiancé and her aunt are having an affair, she is
devastated and attempts suicide. She is rescued in the nick of time by <b>Bright Davies</b>, her laundryman. Bright
proves to be a strong pillar of support for her and to her greatest surprise,
Isioma soon finds herself falling for him. However, unable to shake off a
bitter experience from his past, Bright is wary of allowing himself get
attached especially because he believes such a relationship could never last
due to the barriers class and fortune had placed between them. In spite of the
challenges posed by the differences in social status and the outright
disapproval of her best friend, <b>Tracy</b>
<b>Okonji</b> who believes she is about to
make a similar mistake by falling for another gold digger, Isioma persists in
her resolve to make the relationship with Bright work. Eventually, the walls
around Bright’s heart crumble and just as things begin to look up for him and
Isioma, a careless bet he had made with one of the household staff surfaces and
nearly ruins his relationship with Isioma permanently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Daniel Mac-Olubi</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> is the Editor-in-Chief at one of the nation’s most
prominent publishing houses. Almost a decade after the death of the mother of
his son and only woman he ever loved, he is unable to bring himself to love any
other woman, having resolved to devote all his love and care to his son, Timmy.
<b>Sandra
Aikhomu</b> is haunted by the memory of a traumatic experience at the hands of
the first and only man she ever loved; an experience that nearly took her life
and had her confined to a Psychiatric home for almost two years. Years later, by
a strange twist of fate, she finds herself working under Daniel Mac-Olubi, a
notorious boy from her secondary school days whom she had always hated with a
passion. In spite of their initial aversion for each other, they soon develop
an attraction that begins to blossom until <b>Timmy</b>,
Daniel’s young son proves to be a major obstacle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kayode</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <b>Jacobs</b> is best
friends with DanielMac-Olubi. He is married to <b>Halimah</b>, a top fashion designer and career-focused woman who is so
devoted to her job that she makes no time for her marriage much to her
husband’s chagrin. Eventually, their marriage crashes and Kayode, renowned for
his ability to fix other people’s problems finds himself on the other side of the
coin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And that’s it.
So, I’ll be glad to have your suggestions for a <b>SUITABLE TITLE</b> plus your feedbacks on what you think about the
story. Is it something you think sounds good? Would you buy/read such a book?
Does it sound stupid (he he)? Does it sound Nollywood-ish (I kinda think so and
I sooooo hate Nollywood!)? etc. I’m counting on you guys. Thanks a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Here’s an
excerpt from the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">Bright knocked on
the bedroom door one more time. There was still no response. He shrugged
indifferently and turned the knob. This wouldn’t be the first time he would be
entering Madam</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">s room. He still remained baffled about his boss</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">s carefree nature as regards her personal items. Miss
Nwokocha did not see anything wrong in her laundryman coming into her bedroom
to pick her laundry. He recalled the first time she had sent for him to come up
to her bedroom, and how scared he had been to venture into the room. Ngozi had
led him all the way up, past the suite, and as they moved on, he began to
wonder where the housekeeper was taking him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Where are we going?” He had asked curiously.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Madam</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">‟</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">s room,” the
housekeeper had answered indifferently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “But
. . .” he had begun, but Ngozi had assured him that the boss was a very free
person and had no qualms about her staff coming into her suite or any of its
rooms so long as they were not doing anything wrong in it. Bright himself had
confirmed this fact in the last few weeks. Miss Nwokocha was so trusting of her
household staff and had never had any reason to query any of them over the loss
of any of her belongings. At last, they had gotten to the bedroom door and
Ngozi had left as soon as she led him to the door. Bright had stood there in
confusion, wondering what next to do. The door was ajar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Madam, you sent for me,” he had said,
standing at the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Come in, please,” she had answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">He had hesitated
for a second, wondering if it was really okay for him to go into his boss’
bedroom. At last, he had gone in, and in a most polite manner, she had pointed
out her laundry basket and showed him how she wanted her clothes to be taken care
of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “You can always come in here to pick my
laundry, in case I</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">m not around. My door is always open,”
she had said at last, leaving him to wonder if she was serious. She seemed so
different from most rich people he knew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">He wondered where
she could be as he entered the room. He marvelled, as he always did, at the
massiveness of the room. The bedroom was larger than three of the rooms in the
staff quarters put together. He took in his boss</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> admirable taste
and fashion. Her bed was neatly covered with an expensive duvet made from what
looked like sheepskin. Her huge wardrobe was closed, but he could bet it was
filled with expensive clothes, many which she had probably never worn or would
never wear. The dressing mirror was positioned just by the bed and various
expensive perfumes and cosmetics adorned the space. He recalled he had not
noticed her in the living room when he walked into the suite. Perhaps, she was
by the pool relaxing, but doubted the possibility. It was barely 8.00 a.m. on a
Saturday; it was unlikely that she would be at the pool that early. </span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">He spotted
the laundry basket and began stuffing the clothes in it into his large bath, whistling a popular tune to himself and as he did. He suddenly heard a sound that made him jump. It had emanated from the bathroom. Immediately, he realised his boss had been in the bathroom all the while. Why had he
not thought of that before? Bright hurriedly picked up the bath, hoping to exit
the room before she entered. As he turned, the bathroom door opened and she
emerged, singing to herself, her white bath towel carelessly tied around her
slim body. Isioma lifted her hands and screamed in fright as she suddenly noticed
the person in the room causing her towel to drop off her body to the floor.
Bright stared in shock at the stark nakedness before him, and fixed his eyes on
the sight for a split second before quickly looking away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “I’m . . . I</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">m sorry ma . . .
madam,” he muttered as he avoided the sight and headed for the door. “I did not know
you were in the bathroom.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Just leave, please. Leave.” Isioma
managed as she hurriedly picked the towel and wrapped it firmly around her
body. Bright, now at the door, fidgeted with the knob in obvious confusion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “I</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">’</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">m sorry madam,” he
said again, still looking away from her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"> “Please, get out at once!” Isioma screamed
angrily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">Bright left the
bedroom dejectedly shutting the door behind him. Isioma sat on the bed and shut
her eyes. She rubbed her head furiously. What in God</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">‟</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Poor Richard";">s name just
happened? Had her laundryman just seen her stark naked? What had he . . . ? She
sighed and got off the bed to get dressed. She had to catch ‘The Ellen
DeGeneres Show’ on Mnet Series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So that’s a
sneak preview for y’all. Let me know what you think and pleaseeeeee, don’t forget the
title suggestions based on the synopsis. Thanks a bunch, folks!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Poor Richard","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE GEEBEE
CHRONICLES would continue in the next post. Meanwhile enjoy this BLAST FROM THE
PAST-post that’s kinda related to the resolutions thingy. Click <b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1452418822"></span>HERE<span id="goog_1452418823"></span></a></b> to read <b>Episode 35: Resolutions</b>. See you soon! Happy New Year once again!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-54749550957640762332012-12-21T04:46:00.000+01:002012-12-21T04:46:39.833+01:00EPISODE 60 - QUICKSAND!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Have you ever heard the term
‘quicksand’? Imagine being trapped and every attempt to get out gets you
further trapped. I learnt that quicksand is something you should never struggle
with and the more you try to get out of it, the faster you get caught in it.
For the purpose of this post, I checked Wikipedia and learnt further that
quicksand forms in saturated loose sands when the sand is suddenly agitated.
When water in the sand cannot escape, it creates liquefied soil that loses
strength and cannot support weight. They are mostly found inland (on
riverbanks, near lakes or in marshes) or near the coast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The funny thing is you never actually
know quicksand from mere sight as it appears to be solid when undisturbed. It
is until you find yourself in it you realize what a mess you’re in and
annoyingly, you find yourself practically stuck not because you’re frozen or
immobilized but because any action on your part to get yourself out of it gets
you further trapped in. So, technically, it becomes safer to stay still. Talk
of choosing the frying pan instead of the fire or picking the lesser of two
evils. Now, that’s one experience you
shouldn’t pray to have but that’s what it felt like after the incident with
Cher, my pregnant girlfriend’s sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZNtEIna22QqvgyjMf4YQaKxCXFNqqmUpyxBPmEC4l3vyww2zmAVy01puWZ8bieYgB24oHO8Gmxc7lKFC5Xkj9gYQWEYRceTRM8PV1rDCqbugCLeryW4ONa5Gyues32u7edHY1b-kNS9I/s320/Quicksand.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dangerouscreation.com/2011/05/humans-are-sinking-into-dangerous-quicksand/" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After Cher’s departure that morning, I
had the opportunity to really think about all I had done, more like what we had
done. The implications were dire as it were. I felt like Macbeth who had
murdered sleep and indeed I knew I had. I had called BG immediately and we made
up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hey baby!” she said as soon as she
picked the call. “I’m so glad you called at last. I’ve been so worried and I
hardly slept throughout the night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I swallowed saliva. She had been worried
and full of guilt over her outburst while I had been eating the forbidden fruit
with her sister. A deep pang of guilt forcefully hit me afresh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “I’m
so sorry. I just don’t know what came over me. I promise it would never happen
again. Hope you’ve forgiven me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s alright baby,” I managed. “I
understand. In your condition, you would be prone to overreacting over the
smallest of issues.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yeah I know but it’s no excuse and I’m
sorry again. Please forgive me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I winced. Her pleas were driving me
insane especially considering the fact that it should have actually been me
pleading with her to forgive me for what I had done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I was thrown into a deep valley of decision. I
thought of simply confessing my sins and telling her what I had done and escaping
from the guilt that was trying hard to kill me. I dismissed the thought
promptly. It would be a suicidal act, not necessarily for me but BG was bound
to go berserk on hearing such news and only God knew what extent she could go
as a result. No, that was too big a risk, I decided. I would simply have to
keep my mouth shut this time. I would simply have to play along and allow BG keep
believing she was the one who had offended me.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have called Cher as well and . . .”
BG continued but I cut in immediately.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You called Cher . . .?” I said before
I could stop myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yeah I had to apologize to her as well
for the accusations. She said she spent the night at your place . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My heart stopped. What in God’s name
had Cher done? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">BG was still talking. “Thanks for your
consideration. Cher said you had to sleep on the floor so she could use the
bed. That’s so thoughtful of you, Geebee.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I suppressed a grateful sigh. Cher was
simply a mistress of deception and I had to admi</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">t to myself that I was
in awe. I unsuccessfully tried to imagine what Cher could have said to convince
BG into trusting us so easily after her earlier suspicion. I ended the call
feeling like the weight on my shoulders had been miraculously lifted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Two
days later, Cher was at my place again. It was different this time around
because BG was aware and in total support. I was uncomfortable with the idea
but Cher had told me on phone a day before that it was best we kept up the act.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Geebee,
what’s up?” she had said cheerfully after I received her call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m
good.” I said, maintaining my composure as best as I could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“We
need to talk” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
was silent for a moment trying hard to process her words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Are
you there?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes
I’m here and no, I don’t think it’s a good idea that we see.” I responded bravely.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Look
Geebee, we both agree what happened between us was a mistake but remember we
had plans before then. We can’t just throw all that away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
had a point. She was supposed to be a partner in my little ‘enterprise’ but as
it were, I couldn’t trust her not to push me to the limits again and I couldn’t
trust myself either not to fall again. In fact, I was too sure I would fall
once more if ever we got together again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Besides,
BG believes we are making moves already. If we break it off suddenly, don’t you
think she’d smell a rat? Geebee, please I need this opportunity and as soon as
you can teach me all I need to know, I’ll be out of your hair.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">True
to her words, she kept things strictly business this time around and in less
than ten minutes, we were off to the café. The evening turned out to be a very
productive one and we penned down two good deals from existing <i>magas</i> and secured prospective ones. Her
face on the webcam proved to be impressive to the <i>magas</i> and while I chatted with them, her ideas were a welcome
contribution. By the end of that evening, I was no longer reluctant to have her
around. By the end of that week, she had claimed about three Western Union transfers
on my behalf. I took her and BG shopping and we all had so much fun together.
It was almost as though nothing wrong ever happened between us some days before.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Before
long, I began to confide very much in Cher and she in me. I told her about my
plans for life, my frustrations with BG’s pregnancy and how I never actually loved
her enough to want to marry her. She was so easy to talk to and at a point I
knew we were becoming too close for comfort but this time, I didn’t seem to
mind and neither did she. It was almost inevitable that we would go down the
same wrong road we had gone previously and when it happened again, there was
hardly any guilt. We simply decided we would keep things as discreet as
possible and give BG no reason to suspect anything. I knew it was crazy but it
was like I had become trapped in quicksand. I decided I was not going to
struggle with it anymore because the more I tried to struggle, the deeper I
would find myself sinking. It was safer to stay still until I got help whenever
it came.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">SEE
YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 19px;">I read a book during the week and I have to admit it's the most unique book I've read this year (and I've read quite a number).<a href="http://www.seunodukoya.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> </a><a href="http://www.seunodukoya.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Seun Odukoya</a>'s <b>'For Days and a Night'</b> is one book you won't stop reading for a second once you begin until you're done. I can guarantee that because it happened to me! Seun is a fantastic writer (one of the guys I look up to, in fact but he claims he's just trying. lol) and he's also a blogger on Wordpress. The beautiful thing about it is you can download it for <b>FREE!</b> Yes, you heard! Click <a href="http://seunodukoya.files.wordpress.com/2012/12/for-days-and-a-night1.pdf" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a> to download.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 19px;">Then, please check out my friend, <b>Salemcity's</b> new track, <b>Paradise.</b> It's a song that's best described with its name. It's a song that would take you to Paradise literally. Click <b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.hulkshare.com%2Fsalemcity&h=8AQFsgToB" target="_blank">HERE</a></b> to download. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 19px;">Thanks folks. Have a lovely Christmas celebration!</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-70136567637113367792012-12-06T06:57:00.000+01:002012-12-06T07:06:11.736+01:00EPISODE 59 – THE MORNING AFTER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">I once heard there are
three major vices that compete for the average young man's attention and
only when a man successfully crosses the youthful stage of life steering clear
of these mischievous trio could he be said to be a perfect youth. The vices
form the DSF clan, an acronym for Drinking, Smoking and Fornication. Now, is
there any dude in the house who’d say he’s never indulged in any of these?
Please, stand up or forever remain silent and content with your status as a
presently or erstwhile Imperfect youth. Of course there are exceptions and this
has to do with the young men who have been fortunate enough to have been on the
righteous path from a rather young age. These ones tend to cross the gulf of
youth without getting hooked by at least one of the DSF components. Note that I
used the word ‘average young man’ where this implies boys who get to grow up
without necessarily being recipients of strict spiritual and moral guidance.
Unfortunately, these vices have become so etched in the fabric of our society
that people excuse them, using the comfortable term ‘youthful exuberance’.
Indeed!</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">Personally, I wouldn’t
totally agree that it is permissible for young men to indulge in these excesses
in the name of youthful exuberance but even if the benefit of doubt is given, I
strongly believe such kids should outgrow such tendencies after a while. At
twenty, if you are a member of the DSF clan, there should definitely be a
get-away plan. You shouldn’t see yourself still doing such stuff by
twenty-five! That’s what I have always believed and still do believe. Unfortunately,
many young men still find themselves stuck in this vicious community well into
their thirties, forties and even beyond. I was not lucky enough to escape DSF;
in fact, I sampled all its components and it felt so good at the time. However,
I always had a get-away plan. I knew this wasn’t something I wanted to do
forever and so always had to use the ‘check myself before I wreck myself’ code.
One factor that further strengthened this resolve was the fleeting feeling that
came with all of these vices. The fun
usually only lasted for that present moment and I always hated the way I felt
afterwards. It was a thought I hardly shared with anyone but I always had my get-away
plan at the back of my mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">Of the lot, fornication
seems to be the easiest commit, especially considering the available options
this vice offers. If you’re not bold enough to approach a girl, you could save
yourself the trouble by patronizing brothels. Smoking takes more guts,
especially when you go beyond cigarettes and try out smoking weed or some
crazier stimulant. Drinking tends to be a little easier to indulge in than
smoking but the effects could mess a man up just as well. The hangovers from
drinking sprees could subject one to the worst forms of ridicule. The most
terrible part is the hangover experience of the morning after a night of
drunkenness. It usually feels like hell. I could compare this feeling to what I
felt in the morning after the night I found myself kissing Cher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznvNgUAHXkLz8rtrA9eZ2Q40zS6zZs9MlhIS19iTHl_ucq-J0mDuRJFFIv3VJ5lx14_IOkqpBcHtDzh70eOae3jtzxI3g2i-xplNQVBVORd4s_zwS2Dn0c9fFAWtHtEA9SNxP51s8nor0/s1600/Morning-After.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznvNgUAHXkLz8rtrA9eZ2Q40zS6zZs9MlhIS19iTHl_ucq-J0mDuRJFFIv3VJ5lx14_IOkqpBcHtDzh70eOae3jtzxI3g2i-xplNQVBVORd4s_zwS2Dn0c9fFAWtHtEA9SNxP51s8nor0/s320/Morning-After.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?hl=en&sa=X&tbo=d&biw=1280&bih=695&tbm=isch&tbnid=3plzYw89-wxYyM:&imgrefurl=http://boingboing.net/2008/11/07/the-morning-after.html&docid=OIicEJyr9afMlM&imgurl=http://www.boingboing.net/filesroot/Morning-After.jpg&w=500&h=359&ei=KzLAUPekIpO00QXq4oHwCw&zoom=1" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Source</span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I opened my eyes and
stretched lazily in bed. I attempted to roll sideways and suddenly I realized I
was not alone. Cher was still sleeping soundly. I sat up and stared at her
sleeping frame for a moment. This was not happening, I tried to convince
myself. Had I just spent the night in bed with my girlfriend’s sister? I felt
bile build up in my throat. I felt like a pregnant woman with morning sickness.
Perhaps, BG’s pregnancy had been miraculously transferred to me and I was
beginning to feel the symptoms of early pregnancy! I was suddenly woozy all
over and the room seemed to spin. I looked at a corner of the bed and saw my
boxer shorts and I recalled all that had transpired the night before . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">Cher broke off suddenly
and pulled away. In the darkness, I could feel my face flush with
embarrassment. I tried to imagine how humiliated she must have felt as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Cher . . .” I began, feeling
like I had just had ‘dumbass’ tatooed on my forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">She didn’t respond. Her
back was turned to me and I thought twice about reaching out to touch her
again. That was how the foolishness had started anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“I’m so sorry, Cher” I
said, finally finding my voice. “I really don’t know what came over me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“It’s okay, Geebee.
I’m sorry too.” she said, turning slightly to face me in the darkness. “I guess
I am as guilty as you are anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I understood what she
meant. She had kissed me back and I figured she had probably surprised herself
as well. I remained on the spot I was sitting on the ground for a while
wondering what implications the kiss we had just shared could have. It wasn’t
something I would easily be able to shake off and I wondered if it would be the
same for her. Her sister was pregnant for me and as things were, I was practically
stuck with her, at least until after the baby was born and probably for a few
years more until we decided what the future held for both of us. That
automatically meant I would always be connected to Cher one way or the other.
Could I bear to look at her without thinking of the kiss? How long would it
take for BG to notice the tension that would exist between her sister and I?
How about our Yahoo-Yahoo association? Would we still be able to continue? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I sighed and tried to
get up to crawl back to the corner of the floor to sleep off the exhaustion I
felt but I stopped in my tracks as Cher gripped my sleeve. I was speechless for
a moment as I tried to process what could be going on and what I should say at
that moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“We’re both human
beings and blood flows through our veins!” she simply said as she pushed her
body closer to mine. The physical contact caused electric sparks to shoot
through my entire body and every thought I had building in my head vanished
into thin air. I took her mouth and kissed her again with so much force that I
never imagined myself capable of. In the darkness, and with our lips aching
from the forceful kissing, we undressed one another without pausing for a
moment to think. A brief pause would probably have been all that was needed to
save the day but we seemed determined not to interfere with the strong
chemistry in the air. Minutes later, with our blind passion well spent, we had
fallen asleep. . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I winced as I recalled
all that had happened. I had felt so bad about kissing Cher but I had gone
ahead to do the most despicable thing. I was sure I had committed a crime
worthy of nothing but death. I sighed again and tried to find an excuse for
what had happened. It had not been entirely my fault. Cher should not have been
at my place that night. I countered the thought almost immediately. After all,
she had resolved to find her way home that night but I had stopped her. I had
gone all the way to the bus stop to persuade her to come back with me although
it had been an action I took out of concern for her safety and especially out
of irritation at BG’s insinuations. Yes! BG! Immediately, I began to build a
mental blame-jail for my girlfriend. I had never imagined that what had
happened between Cher and I could happen. It was BG who had started the
senseless accusations on phone back in the bus. It was her that had made Cher feel
so bad to the point of weeping and then in my bid to console her I had done a
most stupid thing. BG had a part in this unfortunate occurrence. I suddenly
found myself hating my girlfriend so much at that moment. If she had only been
more trusting and given me the benefit of doubt, I would probably never have
been pushed into doing something so wrong. In the deepest recesses of my mind,
I knew I was making lame excuses but I shut up that part of me and chose to
focus on what I wanted to focus on. It worked like magic. I proceeded to tie a
towel around my waist<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">Cher must have felt
some activity around her as she woke up and looked around the room. Our eyes
met.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Hi”, she said, trying
to avert my gaze, her countenance betraying a hint of timidity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Hey”, I responded.
“Hope you slept well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">She nodded and looked
at the clock on the wall. I followed her gaze and for the first time I
remembered she was due to submit an assignment that day and should have been
out of my house by 5 am. It was almost seven o’clock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Wow! Your
assignment,” I said concernedly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">She sighed as she got
up, pulling off the entire bed sheet with her to cover her nudity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“I guess I’ve started
paying for what we did last night” she said, smiling mischievously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I was surprised and at
the same time relieved. I had expected her to be as gloomy as death with the
guilty feeling like I was feeling. I had wondered how we would be able to look
each other in the face after what had transpired but here we stood making a
casual joke about it. It was so comforting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Look, Geebee” she
began. “About what happened last night, I’m sorry about it all but could we try
to keep it away from BG?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I looked at her in
surprise. “Of course. You think I’ll tell her? That would be a most stupid
thing to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Fine.” She said, as
she sat on the edge of the sofa. “I really don’t know what came over me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I shrugged. “What has
happened has happened. We just need to move on.” I said, trying my best to be
in control as much as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah.” She concurred.
“I should get going. Do you mind if I take a shower?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Sure, why not?” I
said, pointing out the bathroom to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">As she took her
shower, my mind wandered to BG again and I wondered if indeed I would be able
to keep the truth of what had happened between me and her sister from her and
even if I did, how long would I be able to hide it? A month? Two months? Two
years? What if we ended up together eventually? Would I be able to keep the
truth from her forever? I realized only time would tell. I turned on my phone
and barely a minute after; I received about five new messages. They were all
from BG. She was full of apologies for accusing me and asked that I forgave her
for over-reacting. She confessed that she loved me too much and was scared of
losing me. The successive messages were follow-ups to preceding ones. In the
last one, she asked that I called her as soon as I saw the messages. I hated
myself so much right then and wished I could rewind time back to the very
moment Cher had called on phone the previous day. I should have simply not
picked up the phone!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“I think you should
try to call BG.” Cher said as she emerged from the bathroom. Thankfully, she
had put on her clothes before coming out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I nodded. “Yeah I
will. I’m just reading her messages.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Oh really? What did
she say? More insults?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">I shook my head and
passed the phone to her. She read on for a few minutes and sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Wow! We’ve been very
bad!” she said as she handed back the phone to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 115%;">As Cher left my place
that morning, I knew somehow I would not be able to push her away for good. I
admired her unique ability to stay detached and composed in spite of what had
happened between us and I wished I had such a personality as well. I knew
keeping the truth away from BG would be an uphill task but I also knew it was
best if she didn’t know. What had happened with Cher was a mistake but I was
not even convinced it was a mistake I would never repeat. As much as I tried to
make the resolve, it did not feel strong enough. I knew the only person that
could actually stop me from making that mistake again was Cher herself. I
looked at my phone. It was time to call and make up with BG. Perhaps, that
would be my saving grace, I hoped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">SEE YOU IN THE NEXT
EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES</span><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-83049924717251355902012-11-22T20:04:00.001+01:002012-11-24T01:02:03.752+01:00EPISODE 58 – THE GAMBLER’S STORY <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You got to know when to hold ’em</span></span></i></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Know when to fold ’em<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Know when to walk away<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And know when to run<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You never count your money<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you’re sittin’ at the table<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’ll be time enough for countin’<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When the dealin’s done<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/k/kenny+rogers/the+gambler_20077886.html" target="_blank">Source</a></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">These lines are the chorus of one of my
favourite Oldies tracks by </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenny_Rogers" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Kenny Rogers</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"> titled ‘The Gambler’. In it, Rogers
talked about how he met a gambler on a train who schooled him in the art of
gambling. I’ll paraphrase what he learnt in as few words as possible. In the
game of Poker, the gambler has to know how to read the signs and take the right
steps. He needs to know when to hold his cards and call other players’ bluff. He
needs to know when to fold his cards and ultimately, he should know when to
walk away. At times, it is not easy to ‘just walk away’ because you could
easily be tempted to return to the table. In such cases, it’s safer to run!
Confidence could also be very deceptive in a gamble. Don’t count your money
while sitting at a poker table. You’ll have all the time to do that after you
have survived the game. The game is all about choices and the wrong choice
could lead to a loss in the game. Now, I bet I sound like a Poker Master or
something. Funny enough, I’ve never played the game but sometimes, our experiences
in life are reminiscent of a poker game and we find out we have to make similar
choices.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBYWTuN3L0rKPhyuzjRlf-0oPQ9G8DQEEoK3PaFg5oSp_M3Wwt0ATgOaGV7D7WCRZby5hwJuIQ-daXNEHpDZ03qtwLQkvLf-gPUyoKgpgb5MNywcyNlrUcuxhdmCvmhLJUdtVryhZKTyv/s1600/poker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBYWTuN3L0rKPhyuzjRlf-0oPQ9G8DQEEoK3PaFg5oSp_M3Wwt0ATgOaGV7D7WCRZby5hwJuIQ-daXNEHpDZ03qtwLQkvLf-gPUyoKgpgb5MNywcyNlrUcuxhdmCvmhLJUdtVryhZKTyv/s320/poker.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tvscoop.tv/poker.jpg" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I approached the bed, my heart
continued to beat furiously. At some point, I wondered if it wouldn’t explode
in my chest. I had heard of cases of heart attacks and all but I was also aware
most victims were usually in their forties or fifties and above and I was not
even yet twenty-two! As I tried to dismiss the possibility, I thought of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Okwaraji" target="_blank">Samuel Okwaraji</a>, a Nigerian footballer with his statue in front of the National
Stadium, Surulere. I heard he had slumped and died while playing against Angola
sometime in 1989. I began to imagine if he had been older or younger than 22.
Now, this was all before 23-year old <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fabrice_Muamba" target="_blank">Fabrice Muamba</a> of Bolton Wanderers had his
heart attack this year. This was 2007! Anyways, I reassured myself that I
couldn’t possibly die of a heart attack. My heart had withstood more than
enough stress for three heart attacks in one that day alone and I was still
breathing so what the hell?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cher’s sobs continued and in the pitch
darkness, I tried to visualize her sleeping frame on the bed. I could barely
see a thing and I had decided otherwise against turning on my phone to aid my
vision. Finally, I got to the bed and knelt beside it. I could now feel her
close by and my vision of her slightly improved. I was sure she felt my
presence as the sobbing ceased suddenly and she turned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“What are you doing?” she asked. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The question took me by surprise and I
registered her nervousness. What was she thinking? I wondered. My eyes had
adjusted to the darkness much more and I could see her faintly. She looked
scared and vulnerable. I hoped she didn’t think I was going to rape her or
something! I realized I had caused her to imagine something ridiculous and I
knew I had to clear the air immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I’m not . . . You were crying, Cher.” I managed in a
calm tone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Sorry. I just had a lot on my mind,”
she sniffed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was too overwhelmed to speak for a
minute. This girl clearly had multiple personalities. I could hardly believe
this was the same girl who had nearly made me wet my pants that afternoon; the
same girl who had been so full of life in the bar and in the café. Here she
was, weeping herself red before me for no definite reason. Oh, right! I quickly
corrected. She said she had a lot of things on her mind. What things did she
have on her mind that would make her weep so sorely? I was as angry as a
wounded lion myself considering the way the day had turned out for me and all I
had just wanted to do was sleep and wake up to another day without Cher’s
intrusion. However, watching her sob calmed every rage I felt towards her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I’m sorry if I screamed at you, Cher.
I was really frustrated at the way . . .” I began, wondering if I wasn’t saying
nonsense but she interrupted me almost immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“No, Geebee. Don’t apologize.” She
said. “I should be the one apologizing. I really made a mess of your day and
have caused you so much trouble and . . .” She broke off and began to sob
again. I sighed. This was going to be one hell of a night, I decided.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE
GEEBEE CHRONICLES.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">LOL. Got you there, didn’t I? That was
a joke to test how mad the suspense-haters would be. The story continues.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Cher, it’s alright. I’m not angry.” I
said, really meaning it. Any residual anger I felt had vanished. All that
mattered to me at that moment was to stop the tears of the lady on my bed. I
was indeed a sucker for sobbing women (and still am. LOL). Still, her sobs
continued. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I just feel so bad. I’ve always been
such an awful person!” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Wow! Come on, don’t say such words.” I
consoled. “The fact that we do some wrong things doesn’t necessarily make us bad.
It just makes us human.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Really?” she scoffed. “What if you’re
trying to sleep with your sister’s boyfriend? Won’t that make you a bad
person?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My heart exploded! I dropped dead! I
woke up and saw myself in Heaven. The Lord told me it wasn’t yet time for me to
come home and sent me back. I woke up again. It took all of three seconds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I’m just kidding,” she said quickly
and smiled. I beheld her smile in the darkness and it took me forever to heave
a deep sigh of relief. I could feel the perspiration all over my body at that
moment and it dawned on me how scared of this girl I really was. Apparently, I
was attracted to her and it made her words have such a crazy effect on me.
Gradually, I recovered and managed a smile at her humour. The real Cher was back.
I was glad she was no longer sobbing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Wow! You’ve blushed all over. Did you
really take me serious?” she mocked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I winced. “Of course not!” I said in
quick defense, even though I knew it was a blatant lie. “You are crazy, I tell
you.” I added with a forced smile.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“And that’s why you like me, right?”
she teased.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Hmmm, kind of.” I agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“So, you do like me then?” Cher pushed.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkkfzn7eSjOqDXA44dIzc8j0oeNiJ84bndaBJXodRzu8E27uCFMNofkpQ2bjUZ3Iun0N_SewXfU8FP9_NLxBLuqfCdZfbvJC9KDbzazLgjiZfp3H7seonTQ3PbSo9bzwWkpBiGUlwKUqO/s1600/run-while-you-can.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkkfzn7eSjOqDXA44dIzc8j0oeNiJ84bndaBJXodRzu8E27uCFMNofkpQ2bjUZ3Iun0N_SewXfU8FP9_NLxBLuqfCdZfbvJC9KDbzazLgjiZfp3H7seonTQ3PbSo9bzwWkpBiGUlwKUqO/s320/run-while-you-can.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=http://offshewent.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/run-while-you-can.jpg&imgrefurl=http://offshewent.wordpress.com/2012/07/04/yes-i-can/&usg=__4vallJqyqeQkJ7TZyEvRKnBGJDY=&h=667&w=500&sz=195&hl=en&start=2&zoom=1&tbnid=fj-hbvBfOlkUVM:&tbnh=138&tbnw=103&ei=TniuUJg-8ZfRBdzogDg&um=1&itbs=1" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I hesitated for a moment. It was time
to go back to sleep, I decided. My mission had been accomplished. She had
stopped sobbing. In fact, I was beginning to wish I had left her to sob
especially now that she was back in the saddle and torturing me all over again. <o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">It was time for the gambler to walk away or better still, run!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Cher, you should get some sleep,” I
said. “It’s almost one a.m and you have to be out of here very early tomorrow
or else . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Or else, BG would storm your place
with the marines, right?” she cut in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That thought had not even crossed my
mind. I had wanted to say she had to leave very early or else she would be
stuck in the early morning Lekki-Epe expressway traffic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I was not even thinking about that!” I
said angrily. “And no, BG wouldn’t dare do that!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cher smiled again. “Well, maybe if it
was someone else besides me here at your place, she wouldn’t.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I was shocked and recalled the things
BG had always told me about her sister and how she was the black sheep of the
family and all but I had never envisaged BG could see Cher as such a threat to
her relationship.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I thought you were sisters.” I said.
“Why would she think you’re capable of such?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I don’t know. I am always misunderstood
by everyone and it hurts so much!” Cher said and broke into a sob again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“I have not really been the best
example of a person so everyone at home sees me as an outcast.” She continued.
“I have a mind of my own and it’s been so difficult to find someone who truly
understands me. I have no friends . . .” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Instinctively, I reached out to touch
her face. I moved closer until my head was close to hers and I held her head in
my hands. “It’s alright. You’ll find someone who understands you for who you
are someday. You’re not a bad person.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the darkness, I could feel her eyes
boring into mine. I felt my head move closer and I kissed her lightly on the
lips. I had meant it to be a light goodnight kiss but somehow, it lasted longer
than expected. I realized I was kissing her and . . . Good heavens! She was
kissing me right back!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE
GEEBEE CHRONICLES</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Meanwhile, I should announce that THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES has been named the <a href="http://nigerianblogawards.com/details/the-2012-nigerian-blog-awards-winners/" target="_blank"><b>BEST PERSONAL BLOG (Judges' Choice)</b></a> in the <a href="http://nigerianblogawards.com/details/the-2012-nigerian-blog-awards-winners/" target="_blank"><b>2012 Nigerian Blog Awards</b></a>! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Xtz9asIPYMRgoDTj1dYatG8Y8ZySNLOzz3UFj3OsyrIY-wGXT7StjQvj7j3VfDmUNTNf0W_aHnIpXiavCcNqSh-QGdY39CkrMHN-6FXcLIJHqiSkbmVZ5OYETnqivTBf9fve949QnsUe/s400/best+personal.JPG" style="text-align: center;" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Yay! *dancing azonto* Let's pop the champagne. Thanks y'all. You guys made it happen!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Also, kindly vote for my bro, </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/EwurumChima" target="_blank">Chima 'Ironverse Slim' Ewurum</a></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> in the </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Top Naija Music Awards.</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"> He was nominated in two categories: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. <a href="http://topnaijamusicawards.com/category/best-artiste-south-east-region/" target="_blank">Best Artiste, South East</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. <a href="http://topnaijamusicawards.com/promisingartiste/" target="_blank">Most Promising Artist</a>. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Please, click on the categories to vote. </span></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">Thanks people!</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-77253247778923957412012-11-09T06:32:00.001+01:002012-11-09T06:52:29.066+01:00EPISODE 57 – THE SCARY BASEMENT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">I have never been a fan of horror
movies. My dislike for this movie genre has nothing to do with the fear of the
horrific scenes like the spilling of guts and intestines in movies like<i> Scream</i>
and<i> Saw</i> or the heart-rending accident scenes in <i>Final Destination 4</i> and all the
other insane and gory scenes typical of horror movies. No, I fear none of
these, although I have to admit, I would not like to have a nightmare where I
visualize such scenes. I’ll definitely jump from my bed screaming ‘Blood of
Jesus!’. LOL. The only positive thing I can take away from horror movies, and that’s
if it could really be classified as positive now would be the adrenaline rush
and anticipation of the next action, especially in those that are well
scripted. The heartbeat accelerates at a speed that well exceeds the regular
heart rate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/c103.0.403.403/p403x403/564902_10151127594292672_1393368707_n.png&imgrefurl=http://www.facebook.com/JouleFool&usg=__nlmHKTdvFL7a-Sg6vmkKsFAuijI=&h=403&w=403&sz=260&hl=en&start=6&zoom=1&tbnid=sTjngnWBW-Z53M:&tbnh=124&tbnw=124&ei=-5GcUKi_CqWO4gT9woDABw&um=1&itbs=1" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aBCOGIIOKvBIwI0Jo1bH79Og5hYMJWuYf8OI8GntssaUqgbKNMzQcWUgZWcZ3a5PxWgOLqUUq-ggSX8_DxVaNGC8EbzqA_K61QvPV4ljjnid5BDKOiZOeN-zcGaSjtWbzhRe324EdiGQ/s320/BASEMENT.png" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/c103.0.403.403/p403x403/564902_10151127594292672_1393368707_n.png&imgrefurl=http://www.facebook.com/JouleFool&usg=__nlmHKTdvFL7a-Sg6vmkKsFAuijI=&h=403&w=403&sz=260&hl=en&start=6&zoom=1&tbnid=sTjngnWBW-Z53M:&tbnh=124&tbnw=124&ei=-5GcUKi_CqWO4gT9woDABw&um=1&itbs=1" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Imagine a scene where a teenage girl whose
parents have gone on a two-day cruise is alone in a big house and after a nice
movie, a pack of cookies and glass of juice, she goes upstairs to her room and
before long, she falls asleep. Then, late into the night (of course, the time
is displayed as 2.17 a.m), she is awoken by a loud thunderstorm. She realizes
it had been raining and hurries to lock up her windows because of the extremely
cold breeze coming through. It stops raining after a little while but she finds
out she is unable to fall asleep again. Angrily, she comes downstairs again
hoping to continue her movie and maybe eat some more cookies and have another
glass of juice. As she approaches the last few steps on the stairway, she hears
a loud creak. She shudders and pauses for a moment. Then, she shrugs and moves
towards the area the sounds seemed to emanate from. She hears the creak again
and she realizes the sound is from the basement door.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"> Yes, THE BASEMENT DOOR! </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s
where it usually happens, right? Her heart begins to accelerate as she moves
closer and as she gets to the door, she turns the knob and . . .</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At this point, your heartbeat would
probably be beating faster than that of the girl on the screen. Why? Of course,
it’s because of the excitement and anticipation of what’s going to happen next.
Would she find a monster in there? Would it be a burglar who had broken in? Or
would it be a rat? You can’t just help the enthusiasm and adrenaline rush . . .
and that’s the beautiful thing about horror movies. Now, what was the point of
all that gist? Before you begin to crucify me for ending the story ‘just like
that’, I should stress that I was only trying to explain how it feels to take a
dangerous step and the panic and trepidation that usually accompany it. LOL.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I sat in the bus with Cher, I had a
million thoughts racing through my head. I looked at my watch. It was already
past nine o’clock and I knew it would only take a miracle for us to arrive at
my place within an hour and that night hardly seemed like a night when miracles
could happen. In fact, the day had been painted with disaster right from the
start and it could only get worse. How was Cher going to leave my place at
about 10.30pm (assuming we were lucky enough to get to my place and retrieve
her folder by then) and begin another two-hour trip back to her place? I was
very angry but still, I knew better than letting my anger allow me risk the
life of my proposed sister-in-law cum partner-in-crime cum
seductress-of-the-day! When my phone rang, I wished I could scream the roof
off! I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. I looked at Cher
and the look on her face was one of sobriety this time! What? Was this really
Cher? I wondered. The sober look was so genuine that I had to peer a little
closer to confirm that she was the one I was actually looking at?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s BG.” I said in the voice of a man
who had just been told he was going to be castrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m so sorry about this, Geebee” Cher
said and I could have sworn she was sincere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The phone was still ringing and a few passengers
in the bus seated around me began to flash me questioning looks. My ringtone
was Usher’s ‘Yeah’ and it really didn’t seem to be helping matters. I could not
cut the call otherwise BG would have a fit wherever she was. It was safer to
pretend that I could not answer the phone for some reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’re sorry?” I echoed Cher’s words.
Then, I smiled the smile of a man who had been told to take heart because it
was only one of his balls that would be removed and not both. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I don’t know what to tell her.” I told
Cher. “Would you talk to her?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She shook her head and I almost had a
fit. What! She had put me in this mess and she was leaving me to fight the
battle all alone! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Apparently, her phone was still turned
off otherwise BG would have called her as well. Immediately, I wished I had
turned mine off as well but I quickly had a rethink. It would definitely have
made things worse. Cher was officially the most annoying bitch ever as far as I
was concerned at that moment. She had me so seriously cornered. The phone
stopped ringing and I hoped BG would give it a rest but no sooner had the wish
crossed my mind than Usher’s ‘Yeah’ erupted again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bros does your phone have Bluetooth?”
some dude seated about two seats to my left asked. I flashed him a blank look,
my head hardly processing what he had asked me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I was hoping you could send me that
song,” he added, stretching his phone towards me. I decided it would be unfair to
vent my frustration on this guy and deny him the chance of having the top
hiphop jam of May 2007 on his phone as well. I collected his phone and noticed
he had already switched on the Bluetooth. Had it been a different day, I would
have gladly <i>pimped</i> his phone with a
lot of music, videos and pictures! My phone was still ringing and I sighed and
received the call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hello BG.” I said, masking the
frustration I was feeling as strongly as I could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hey Geebee dear. What’s wrong now? I’ve
been trying to reach you. You were not picking up. Is Cher on her way home? Her
phone is still switched off…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Something came up.” I said calmly. “Cher
left her folder at my place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Wow!” BG said. “I’m so sorry about
this. Would you be able to bring it for her tomorrow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I sighed. “Yes I thought as much but
she said she has to submit it tomorrow morning so she’s going back with me to
get it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?” BG said in obvious shock. “At
this time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I decided I had said just about enough
and it was time to pass the baton. “Talk to her” I said into the receiver and
passed the phone to Cher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The conversation she had with her
sister lasted for almost ten minutes and over the background I could hear BG’s
angry rants. It was more than obvious she was not comfortable with the fact
that Cher was still with me at that time. It was almost ten p.m and we were
still a good distance away from my place. I watched in amusement as Cher tried
to explain herself in the best way she could amid BG’s angry outbursts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please, we’ll call you back. We’re in
a public bus.” Cher said finally and ended the call. She was fuming as she
handed the phone back to me. I did not bother to ask her what had transpired on
phone. I had hardly settled to do the music transfer to my fellow passenger’s
phone when my phone rang again. It was BG.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please don’t pick that call.” Cher
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I looked at her unbelievably and
ignoring her, I received the call. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hello BG” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Geebee, look I know what you both are
trying to do.” BG lashed out angrily at me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What are you talking about?” I asked,
hardly believing what I was hearing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She ignored my question and continued
her verbal attack. “I know my sister and I know what she can do and I know you
are not that innocent yourself. You had better just ask her to come down from
the bus and start coming home now! She must not go with you or else . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Or else what?” I cut in angrily
without thinking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was furious! Who the hell did BG
think she was to threaten me that way? I did not give a fart about whatever she
and her sister had between them but I would not allow her insult me for no
reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Geebee, are you asking me ‘or else
what?’” she asked, her tone registering total shock at my retort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I simply hissed and ended the call. I
was embarrassed to notice that I had attracted some attention to myself. Some
of the passengers were now staring at me curiously that I had to hold back from
yelling at them to get their faces off me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I told you not to take that call.”
Cher whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I looked at her and wished I could
strangle her at that moment or throw her out the window of the moving bus. She
noticed my livid countenance and immediately muttered an apology. Perhaps, she
had seen a monstrous look on my face at that moment. I had barely composed
myself when my phone rang again. I almost swore at Usher and his blasted song
right then. Immediately, I cut the call and proceeded to totally turn off the
phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bros?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I turned and sighed as I noticed the
Usher fan who had given me his phone to ‘pimp’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sorry, I have turned my phone off.” I
said, as I passed his phone back to him. I was not in the least bothered about
his disappointment. He could as well go and purchase the song from vendors for
all I cared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I did not utter one word to Cher for
the rest of the journey, when we alighted at the bus stop and all through the short
walk to my place. When I got to my doorstep, it was about a quarter to eleven.
At the bus stop, I had noticed that only a few buses seemed to be going in the
opposite direction. I knew it would be difficult for Cher to get back home that
night but I wasn’t about to show any soft side to someone who had made me have
one of the worst days ever. At that moment, I was so sure our pact and
partnership in the Yahoo-Yahoo business was over. I just wanted her out of my
life for good! She was nothing but trouble. I unlocked my front door, went in
and headed straight to the bathroom. I heard Cher come in and seconds later, I
heard the front door shut. I waited for a few seconds before coming out. I noticed
she had picked her folder and left. My heart went out to her. I knew it was going
to be difficult for her to get transportation back to her place at that time
and in spite of how mad I was at her, my soft side won me over and I walked out
of the house and headed towards the bus stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I caught up with her at the bus stop
and called her. She seemed surprised to see me and I noticed she had been
weeping. All my anger disappeared in an instant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Let’s go.” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Where?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Back to my place. It’s quite late and
I don’t think it’s safe for you to go back at this time. You can leave as early
as five a.m tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No, don’t worry Geebee. I’ll be fine.
I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is. Let me just go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We were at the bus stop for another
quarter of an hour as I tried to persuade her to return with me. Meanwhile,
only two buses passed by in that period and none of them were headed her way.
Eventually, she agreed and we went back to my place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1DNJ5BJavpnfpFIPfLRIOQI09ceHRy-DRjTiXizR_1_YwzozmsY6hoUjkVqjmrlCSrUhAUcANET8_nDXil1tCQ1zBY-ZNmX3DPc0m52kfSLsPjvBMDcMzl3jb53EvLZS7k3Sy_Au5zkB/s1600/doorknob.jpg&imgrefurl=http://ashafullife.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-scary-in-there.html&usg=__Ywj52N9Ow9kgV0T1nbfCcM2T5mw=&h=339&w=239&sz=46&hl=en&start=9&zoom=1&tbnid=L9dT1ajEEvrHPM:&tbnh=119&tbnw=84&ei=XpCcUL2UFaPS0QW8iIGICA&um=1&itbs=1" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHXObHZo26DgL21Bc5D9Z8Wr_nmY1jcjsyWPiBeIhEWdvsEucu01MEGqVLzzDAwMuCY2rlQb_UFvvhd23CLRHmAg5qO2zgn8mtyqeQ31ChJSw3jdBlqH_NWeZ0dsY4efUc9MBUDObVoGpH/s320/doorknob.jpg" width="225" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1DNJ5BJavpnfpFIPfLRIOQI09ceHRy-DRjTiXizR_1_YwzozmsY6hoUjkVqjmrlCSrUhAUcANET8_nDXil1tCQ1zBY-ZNmX3DPc0m52kfSLsPjvBMDcMzl3jb53EvLZS7k3Sy_Au5zkB/s1600/doorknob.jpg&imgrefurl=http://ashafullife.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-scary-in-there.html&usg=__Ywj52N9Ow9kgV0T1nbfCcM2T5mw=&h=339&w=239&sz=46&hl=en&start=9&zoom=1&tbnid=L9dT1ajEEvrHPM:&tbnh=119&tbnw=84&ei=XpCcUL2UFaPS0QW8iIGICA&um=1&itbs=1" target="_blank">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As we approached my house, I turned on
my phone and about four messages from BG flooded my phone. In it, she fired at
me all manner of invectives, calling me myriads of unprintable names. I was too
tired to get angry at that moment. I simply turned the phone off once more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An hour later, I was lying on the rug in
a corner of my room, leaving the bed for Cher. I was almost asleep when I heard
sounds in the room. It was pitch black in the room, thanks to the power cut. I
sat up and listened. The sounds were coming from the bed. It was muffled
sounds, as of one weeping. I sighed and approached the bed in slow steps. I
felt like the girl about to open the basement door in the horror movie. Right
then, my heart began to beat furiously . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE
GEEBEE CHRONICLES. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Meanwhile, voting is still on in the 2012 Nigerian Blog Awards. Please click <a href="http://www.nigerianblogawards.com/vote.php" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a> to vote for this blog as BEST PERSONAL BLOG and tell others to do the same. I know you know that I deserve to win this. Come on, let's make it happen. Voting ends on Sunday, 11th November. Thanks people!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-48677469511755072792012-10-24T22:42:00.000+01:002012-10-24T22:42:00.177+01:00EPISODE 56 - ENTANGLED<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDDIrJGOfmK2JyZnwFdSIxr1802XgcG9hxj9o3EdJpBtCJC1dqowP-UeT0kv4PwizCdM1aXIIxmbRxp73YJF6snnDQt6SYZIDJJagAy65uPBJIsZc0gAG95te4JK2myCpprib3alsRcSA/s1600/entangled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
Before I begin, I am glad to inform you all that this blog has been nominated in the <a href="http://www.nigerianblogawards.com/" target="_blank"><b>2012 Nigerian Blog Awards.</b></a> <b>'The Geebee Chronicles'</b> was shortlisted in the <b>'Best Personal blog'</b> category. I thank you all for your efforts in the nomination stages that made this possible. Coincidentally, this blog was nominated in this same category in the 2009 and 2010 editions but unfortunately didn't clinch the spot on both occasions. Hopefully, it would be different this time around but that's only gonna happen if you vote. Please, go ahead and vote for my blog and your other favourite blogs by clicking <b><a href="http://www.nigerianblogawards.com/vote.php" target="_blank">HERE</a>. </b>Thank you! That said, let's continue with our series.<br />
<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDDIrJGOfmK2JyZnwFdSIxr1802XgcG9hxj9o3EdJpBtCJC1dqowP-UeT0kv4PwizCdM1aXIIxmbRxp73YJF6snnDQt6SYZIDJJagAy65uPBJIsZc0gAG95te4JK2myCpprib3alsRcSA/s1600/entangled.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDDIrJGOfmK2JyZnwFdSIxr1802XgcG9hxj9o3EdJpBtCJC1dqowP-UeT0kv4PwizCdM1aXIIxmbRxp73YJF6snnDQt6SYZIDJJagAy65uPBJIsZc0gAG95te4JK2myCpprib3alsRcSA/s320/entangled.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDDIrJGOfmK2JyZnwFdSIxr1802XgcG9hxj9o3EdJpBtCJC1dqowP-UeT0kv4PwizCdM1aXIIxmbRxp73YJF6snnDQt6SYZIDJJagAy65uPBJIsZc0gAG95te4JK2myCpprib3alsRcSA/s1600/entangled.jpg">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hello, are you there?” BG asked worriedly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I could not tell what she was
worried about. Was she worried that her sister might be missing or that her
sister might be with me? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Yea-yeah I’m here,” I said in a
stutter, my gaze fixed on Cher in total confusion. I tried unsuccessfully to
communicate with her with my eyes. She was busy on the computer chatting with
my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maga</i> and appeared uninterested in
my phone conversation to my utter disgust. She should have been the one
receiving BG’s call if only her blasted phone was not turned off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Has Cher called you?” BG asked
again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I was at crossroads on what my
response would be. If I told her I had not heard from Cher, it would cause more
agitation on her part if indeed she was worried about her sister’s whereabouts
and I didn’t want to put her through such mental trauma considering her
condition. On the other hand, if I told her that Cher was with me, she would
probably smell a rat and wonder why Cher had not bothered to call her after meeting
me or why I had not called for that matter. It would also cause more mental
pressure for her. It was a case of two roads leading to one unpleasant
destination. I needed a few seconds to talk to Cher to determine what my
response would be. I ended the call abruptly and hoped to grab as much time I
could to talk to Cher before BG called again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Cher, BG’s been trying to reach
you. She says your phone is switched off.” I lashed out, trying really hard to
suppress my anger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Oh really? Yeah, I turned it off
earlier on. I totally forgot about the phone!” she responded lamely.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I was sure it was another lie but I
decided not to push it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Okay. Well, she’s calling me now
and asking about you. What do I tell her?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">She smiled. “Are you asking me? You
can tell her I’m here with you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I felt my head was going to
explode. “Really? You want me to tell her that?” I said, looking at her
disbelievingly. “You ought to have called her to tell her that yourself earlier
on!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Sorry” she simply said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“So what next?” I asked, wishing I
could slap the taste out of her mouth. “Why don’t you just turn on your phone
now and call her so you can tell her whatever you want. I really don’t like
what is happening right now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">She was going to say something but
my phone rang. My heart froze.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I think you should pick this call,
Cher.” I said and stretched the phone, still ringing in my hand to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“And say what?” she asked. “It’s
your phone. You talk to her.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I could feel my blood rising as I
accepted the call.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Hello baby. Sorry, I think there
were issues with the network.” I said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Okay. I was beginning to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>. . .”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Cher is here with me!” I said
suddenly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">The shock on Cher’s face was as
clear as crystal. I held her gaze and managed not to smile. Apparently, she had
expected that I would ‘cover up’ again like I had done earlier but I was
already neck-deep in fury and was ready to damn any consequences. The truth
was, I half expected myself to come out so straight with BG at that moment but
I did it anyway, more like the words jumped out of my mouth. Cher’s expression
revealed obvious disbelief and I could sense a tinge of apprehension. I had
successfully turned the tables with one sucker punch and I was glad to savour
the moment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“She’s with you?” BG asked. “And
you guys could not even call me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Sorry babe,” I said. “We are in
the café now anyway.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“But I’ve been trying to reach her
since and . . .”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Yeah, she said her phone is
switched off . . .”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Cher snatched the phone from me in
a flash and put it to her ear. I was sure she had been scared that I would go
all out to tell BG all her antics previously and she had quickly decided to
save face. The truth was, I wouldn’t have done that but I was glad she was
scared.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Hey lil sis,” she said into the receiver.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Her gaze met mine and she eyed me
with obvious disgust. I wasn’t in the least bothered. In fact, I had to hold
myself back from bursting into laughter. I sighed in relief and settled down to
face the computer screen. The ball was in her court now. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">The call lasted for about six
minutes and while I chatted on the computer with Petr, a prospective <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maga</i>, I listened to Cher’s side of the
conversation with her sister. I was awed by her smartness and how she easily
got herself out of the dicey situation with a convincing tale on how she got
stuck in traffic and how her friend’s brother played games on her mobile phone
and caused the battery to go flat. At a point, BG asked her if it wasn’t
getting too late considering the time. It was already past seven o’clock at
that point and her home was another two hours drive away. Cher simply told her
she would be on her way soon. Meanwhile, Petr insisted he would like to see me
on webcam because he had heard a lot of bad stories about Nigerian scammers. I
decided it would be a perfect time to allow Cher begin to perform her duties as
the ‘face’ of my Yahoo enterprise. I was due to receive a call from Luke Pine
that evening after I had sent him the call numbers to the phone I had
previously given to Cher. I was yet to brief her on the modalities of how she
would respond to his call but with all the drama that had happened that day, I
was already starting to wonder if bringing Cher in wasn’t a grave mistake. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“So . . .?” I said as she ended the
call.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Get lost!” she said angrily.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I was amused. “I’m sorry Cher but
you pushed me that far.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“You should have known I was just
messing with you all along,” she said and she sounded so sincere that I felt
very guilty. “I play a lot of games. That’s just me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Well, that was a very expensive
one. I’m sorry I overreacted.” I said, meaning it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Cher shrugged. “It’s alright.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said, facing the computer screen. “So
let’s make this money sir! Is that still the guy I was chatting with? What’s
his name again?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Petr,” I said. “However, I think
it’s getting late. Don’t you think you should get going?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">She frowned. “Geebee, I’m a big
girl. I can take care of myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">We remained in the café for more
than an hour more and after much persuasion on my part, she finally agreed to
leave. As we got to the bus stop where she would take a bus home, she suddenly
gave a cry of despair.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I jumped. “What’s it?” I asked
concernedly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“My folder!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I remembered I had last seen the
folder when she had come to my place that afternoon. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Where’s it?” I asked, already
hating the fact that I would have to rush back to the café to get it for her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I left it on your table while I
was reading your magazines!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I wanted to scream. I looked at my
watch. It was almost nine o’clock and the traffic had already started building
on the road back to my place. It meant it would take at least an hour to get
back to my house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Oh God!” I said. “Don’t worry.
I’ll bring it home for you tomorrow.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">She winced. “You can’t. There’s an
assignment I wrote in it. I’m to submit it in school tomorrow morning.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I sighed in frustration. I had no
choice. We were going back to my place. It took another twenty minutes for us
to get a bus headed my way and just as we settled in and I was cursing myself
and the powers that be for giving me such an evil day, my phone rang. It was BG
again!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE
GEEBEE CHRONICLES. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]--></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-84383242613560558072012-10-09T09:36:00.000+01:002012-10-09T09:42:30.301+01:00EPISODE 55 – CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The mobile phone suddenly felt
very hot in my hand. I looked from the screen to Cher. The look on her face was
unflinching. This had to be some crazy dream, I thought to myself. No one could
ever be this daring. What in God’s name was this girl up to? The phone was
still ringing in my hand and I knew I had to receive the call. The question however
was, what would I say? Would it be okay for me to simply tell BG that her
sister was already in my place and risk the pregnant girl having a fit or would
it be wise if I just played along and hid the truth of Cher’s presence from
her? The she-devil herself had told me the ball was in my court. She seemed to
be so sure I would play along with her and I was so furious and wished I could
strangle her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtCL78bnVd8OeM6LYZjwDkFFgZv4oOQaJAbz57PDr7lAiMe1bsgQXx_k-koaFkzsBoN9A7tDgitbvv85TO5_BTzFXMaj6-tcv8dY8QlOQDuOkmpb2goEqs4HDFIFcPrqvxfU4Hk7jPTPA/s1600/middle-dog-300.gif" /><span id="goog_1042099752"></span><span id="goog_1042099753"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So are you going to pick the
call or not?” she asked, a wicked smile forming on her lips.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I hated her so much at that
moment and decided I would give her the shock of her life. I punched the ‘Accept’
button on my phone and put the phone to my ear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey BG, what’s up?” I said in
the calmest tone I could muster.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey baby,” she responded. “Who’s
there with you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I froze. That was a most absurd
question. Did BG know Cher was there with me? Had Cher called BG earlier to
tell her she was on her way to my place? But if she had, why had she told her on
the phone a few minutes before that she was still at her friend’s? Was Cher
trying to mess with my head? Perhaps, BG was in on it and they were both trying
to test me to see if I was faithful. Faithful, my ass! Who gave a damn about faithfulness?
What right did BG have to try and test me that way? For crying out loud, I was
still struggling to come to terms with the reality that I was going to be a
father at twenty two and I was not even sure I was willing to be committed to
her. I was only still sticking with her because she was pregnant for me. She
had no right! Neither did Cher. They had to have screws loosed from their heads
if they were actually messing with me in this manner. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But wait, what if that wasn’t the
case? What if it was my mind actually doing triple jumps and pole vaults? But
then, what was Cher doing here? It was all so confusing . . . and annoyingly
frustrating.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hello are you there?” BG’s voice
interrupted my thoughts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry what were
you saying?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Nothing much. I just wanted to
say hello to any of your room mates or friends there. Is any of them around? I’m
sure you guys are probably playing Chess or smoking pot as usual.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I suppressed a deep sigh of
relief. “You’re very funny,” I said calmly. “I’m just chilling. Simon went home
over the weekend and Bala’s gone to work.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ehyea, so you’re all alone. I
wish I was there with you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I laughed again. “Yes indeed.
With your bulging tummy, right?” I teased.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Abi o. Anyway, I hope you’ll
come around tomorrow or next.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hmmm, I’ll try.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was feeling much more composed
now. My gaze wandered to Cher and I noticed she was seated comfortably on the
bed in the corner of the room reading one of my magazines. Again, I wondered if
BG was aware she was with me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So I spoke with Cher a few
minutes ago. . .” BG continued.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My heartbeat accelerated. “Oh
really?” I managed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yeah. She said she’s still at her friend’s but she’s
not too sure if she’d still come to your place this afternoon.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>Actually, the crazy lady is already here and I hope you guys are not
playing any games with me. If I find out you are, I’ll be so pissed!” </i>my
mind said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Alright then, whatever she
decides is fine. I’ll be heading to the café by four anyway.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ok then baby. Take care. Talk to
you later. I love you!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Alright. Take care.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
BG knew that right from the
outset, I usually never bothered to echo the ‘I love you’ words but she always
said them anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I ended the call and turned to
face Cher. She looked up from her magazine and clapped her hands with an
annoying smile on her face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Awesome performance!” she said. “I
almost believed you would mess up.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I sighed. “Cher, what’s really
going on?” I said trying hard to suppress my anger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Nothing” she said innocently. “I
was bored and thought I’d come and spend some time with you. That’s all.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But this is not right, you know.
If BG finds out, she’ll not . . .”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Are you going to tell her? Of
course you wouldn’t. Otherwise, you’d have told her when you spoke earlier on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“And what makes you think I won’t
tell her when I see her?” I said, smiling confidently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She shrugged. “I dare you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was amused. BG had always told
me her immediate elder sister, Cher was the black sheep of the family, stubborn
and very weird and I was beginning to experience the truth in those words
firsthand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Geebee, relax jor!” she said
lightly. “I’m not going to eat you or something now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Of course you wouldn’t.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So why the unnecessary excitement?
I don’t see anything wrong with being friends with my sister’s boyfriend. It’s
not as if we’re having sex or something?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
All the composure I had gathered
in the last few minutes disappeared instantly. I swallowed saliva.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Or do you have such plans?” she
added with a wink.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I suddenly found it hard to
breathe. “Look Cher. I’m not feeling comfortable with this. Let’s just go to
the café right now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Cher laughed. “Hmmm, my
brother-in-law to be is scared of me. La la la la la la!” she said in a
sing-song voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I had to laugh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Whatever!” I said dismissively. “Let’s
go now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But it’s barely one o’clock. Won’t
it be too early?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>Of course it would! And you should have thought about that before
coming here to terrorize me!”</i> my mind said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Well, we could hang out
somewhere close to the café then till four.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Good idea.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Thirty minutes later we were at a
bar close a little distance from the café. Before long, I was really enjoying
Cher’s company. Suddenly she did not seem like the big bad she-wolf anymore.
She was just a girl who was out to have fun. I wondered why I had allowed so
much unnecessary thoughts cross my mind earlier and I cringed. Obviously, I was
the one with the dirty mind. We chatted about a lot of things and I discovered
she was an interesting and brilliant person as well. I had to admit she was
miles beyond BG in terms of exposure, intellect and composure. She was indeed
the kind of girl I would have wanted to have but I knew there was no way in
hell I could allow that happen. She was my girlfriend’s sister after all.
Besides, she was a good four years older than I was even though she hardly
looked that old. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves that we overshot the time and
did not get to the café until almost six o’clock. I advised her that she returned
home because of the time and we could go to the café together some other time
but she declined.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
At about six-thirty, I was chatting
with one of my <i>magas</i> with Cher by my
side when my phone rang. Again it was BG.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey baby” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Geebee, I’ve been trying to
reach Cher for some time now. Her phone is turned off. I called her friend, Joy
and she said she had not seen Cher today. Is she there with you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I thought my heart would explode
at that moment. I knew there was trouble!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES. </div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-11420888602090658942012-10-02T10:11:00.002+01:002012-10-05T10:16:37.319+01:00EPISODE 54 – VOICES IN MY HEAD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever heard voices in
your head? Have you ever being cock-sure of being alone in a room and suddenly
heard voices that sound so real, right in the same room? The thing however is
that, you actually sense that the voices don’t come from around you but from
within you. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://nickotinephoto.deviantart.com/art/The-voices-in-my-head-151936287"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Zzl7l_GfwnvbS0m5aWmAReq0T-TQcWwoIGuNxumWHRLOcT6DKLNe-8n5lcOB7ZZMV7vzIah33if82gTmzd6r0P6WnshOqvqzBq9HpW6AcDa_fRfueNqFjcnAT7Qv9J6BMKpMBt8n3oM6/s320/The_voices_in_my_head_by_Nickotinephoto.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nickotinephoto.deviantart.com/art/The-voices-in-my-head-151936287">Source</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Now, before you begin to picture a scene from some old horror movie
like </span><i style="text-align: justify;">The Devil’s Advocate,</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> you should
understand that this is an experience that is as common as salt and happens to
the very best of us on a daily basis, so in answer to the original question,
yes, I have heard voices in my head and I am very sure you have too. Please, take
a brief pause for a few seconds to take in all you’ve just read . . . Now, can
you hear those voices in your head? Hmm, I bet you can. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
From birth, in every one of us is
embedded the knowledge of good and evil and as we grow out of infancy, this
knowledge becomes clearer and informs the larger percentage of the choices we
make. We get used to rules, laws, guidelines and the expectations our immediate
societies impose on us and try to conform and in this process; we easily know
what the right or the wrong decisions are. Whenever we do or are about to do
the right thing, we always know and feel a sort of calmness inside. On the
other hand, whenever we are about to do a wrong thing, something usually stirs
up inside of us – an alarm goes off; a voice screams in our heads, a warning
signal of some sort; attempting to stop us from taking that step. Some people
call it ‘conscience’. The fact remains though, that we are never constrained to
obey that voice. We always retain the power of choice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As soon as Cher stepped into my
room, I could hear the voices in my head. No, scratch that! The voices began
right from the minute she called me and told me she was on her way to my place.
Then, it was a tiny whisper. When BG called me and told me Cher was visiting a
friend and would stop at my place later on, I tried to process the two information
sources and find a correlation. Why would Cher tell her sister she was going to
check on someone else when she was actually on her way to my place? Right then,
the voices became more audible. It was no longer a whisper; it was actually a
few decibels higher. When she called me and told me she was at the bus stop, I
could almost hear the clanging of cymbals. The warning signals were getting
pretty stronger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Don’t go and pick her. Stay
right where you are!” the first voice said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But she’s already at the bus
stop” a second voice appealed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So?” the first voice asked. “She
doesn’t know your place, does she?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, she doesn’t. But what would
you tell her later on? Standing her up wouldn’t be polite.” The second voice
countered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Turn off your phone! Make up an
excuse later on.” The first voice said dismissively.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I sighed. This was crazy. I agreed
with the second voice. For crying out loud, what was I scared of? Nothing could
possibly happen between Cher and me. She was my girlfriend’s sister for crying
out loud! No, not just my girlfriend; my pregnant girlfriend!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So, on wooden legs, I proceeded
to the bus stop to fetch Cher. The voices in my head had subsided to my utmost
relief.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Her words brought me back to
earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Pardon?” I asked stupidly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I said you have some nice music
collection here” Cher said, loafing through my CDs. Actually, the CDs she was
holding weren’t mine. They were my roommate, Simon’s. It was a CD collection of
female pop starts like Shakira, Jojo, Jennifer Lopez and other female pop stars
of 2007. I hated that kind of music and I never hid my disgust for them. I had
told Simon a million times such stuff made him look gay! I preferred Rap and
hiphop music and right below the collections Cher had in her hands were CD
albums from Eminem, Tupac, Nas, JayZ, Twista, Kanye West and other albums from
rappers. Those were the sort of music I believed big boys should listen to and
I always told Simon that. However, since Cher seemed to like what she saw,
there was no point telling her they were not mine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yeah, I’m glad you do.” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She dropped the CDs and came
closer. I swallowed saliva and this time around, I could hear trumpet sounds in
my head. I had never been a shy person and so my lack of composure was
irritating the hell out of me but I could hardly help it. This lady was tormenting
me in my own house. I opened my mouth to say something when her phone rang. I
sighed as I watched her reach into her bag. The truth was, I really had no idea
of what I was going to say so technically, the phone call saved me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She retrieved her phone and
stared at the screen for a second. She flashed me a look and crossed her lips
with her index finger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“It’s BG” she said in a whisper.
I swallowed saliva again and I must have taken in enough to nearly make me
choke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey lil sis” Cher said casually into
the receiver, her focus still on me while she listened to the conversation on
the other end.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m still at Joy’s. I should be
leaving in another two hours or thereabout.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I wanted to scream! What? Joy’s
house? What the hell was this crazy lady doing? She was standing right in front
of me and lying to her sister – my pregnant girlfriend – that she was still at
her friend’s place! Now, I realized I was officially in soup.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No probs. I’ll call him when I’m
about setting out. In fact I’m wondering maybe I should just come back home.
Joy’s wearing me out with so much gist and I’m thinking I should just come back
home and see Geebee tomorrow.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There was another pause as she
listened. Her gaze left mine and I managed to sit down. My legs were no longer
mine. My head was on fire, thanks to the voices which had now become a mad karaoke
session in my head! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Alright sis. I’ll see how it
goes. Take care.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She ended the call and looked at
me, smiling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What in God’s name was that,
Cher?” I asked, trying hard to control my anger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What?” she asked innocently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You just told your sister you
are in your friend’s place.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes I did.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Why?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Nothing. I just didn’t want her
to know I was here yet. I’m not supposed to be here till about five p.m and it’s
still kinda early.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So why didn’t you just tell her
you were here already or better still, why didn’t you just go to your friend’s
place like you had told her you would.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Well, I did. Joy wasn’t home so
I just thought I’d come over so we could have a lot of time together.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I knew she was lying! I knew she never
went to her friend’s but I didn’t push it. But wait a minute! What had I heard?
Did I hear her say she wanted us to ‘HAVE A LOT OF TIME TOGETHER?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The words jumped at me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hold on a second. Did you just .
. .”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My phone rang. I retrieved it
from my pocket and looked at the screen. It was BG. I looked at Cher and sighed
in frustration.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“BG right?” she asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I nodded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She shrugged. “Well, the ball is
in your court. You know what to do.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The voices screamed in my head
this time! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-54266540983837458682012-09-20T12:46:00.002+01:002012-10-05T10:17:34.759+01:00EPISODE 53 - CHRONICLES OF A PARTNER-IN-LAW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey folks,<br />
Wow! It's been another long while! I know I've not been the best example of a blogger like I hoped to be this year but then, you know . . . Anyways, I've decided to drop in again and this time, I hope for a good while. The series continues with a repeat 'broadcast' of the last episode. Episode 54 would be here shortly. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1931750770"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8K98Kj6QjDN20IcJN2YoxV8XemmPreEFtYXt6Gb-6ZNLEljLutT3nHLpTVjtdUesD2xTaezI_JURTCcYw3cALLWc8KrziVfLBHpqPG3pfsRsgSqUlgiyjpPUpTSFJ17WR-KiOY771DEH3/s320/inlaws.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.zazzle.com/funny_gifts_for_sister_in_laws_card-137299060390100264">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Back in my early school years, I did Social Studies as a subject and a
most popular topic in the subject that no one who ever passed through
basic education could ever forget would be ‘The Family’. I understood
the family concept early enough and the types – Nuclear and Extended.
While the nuclear family concept was quite easily understandable, it
took a little extra effort in understanding some of the terms used in
the extended family concept. <br />
<br />
For a while, I continued mixing up the
terms nephew, niece and cousin. In fact, I believed for a long time that
nephew was a feminine term and niece was a masculine term. Today, I
have a daughter who happens to be older than my cousin who is my aunt’s
daughter. Now, what would this cousin of mine be to my daughter? Her
cousin-aunt? Someone said my daughter would be
better referred to as her second cousin and she would be a little aunt
to my daughter. Now, my knowledge of Social Studies never included terms
like second cousin or little aunt. Besides, why would you be older than
your little aunt? It sounds ridiculous to me. Perhaps, you could
suggest a more appropriate term.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The
concept of extended family also accommodates the inclusion of in-laws –
people who become related by the fact that some people decide to get
hooked. Imagine some random person you do not know from Adam becoming
related to you because someone you happen to be related to decided to
get married to someone that person happens to be related to. Pretty
annoying, right? You bet. Research has shown that only one in every five
married men have a good relationship with their in-laws. For the wives,
it is worse as only one in every eight married women enjoy a good
relationship with their in-laws. In fact, most people would prefer to
live their lives as a nuclear family unit without any relationship
whatsoever with in-laws.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
BG’s
pregnancy and the fact that I had accepted responsibility was the first
step in throwing me in the much hated in-law mix. I had no choice but
to meet her sisters and ultimately, the deal had been sealed when my mum
had come down to meet them. I had automatically become related to BG’s
people. It only had to become official. Cher had technically become my
sister-in-law and she was indeed one in-law I would have gladly done
without. Almost immediately after bringing her into my business as my
partner, I regretted the decision. This was further reinforced when I
observed to my greatest shock her display when her pregnant sister had
asked to accompany us to the bank to claim some <i>maga</i> money.
However, my hands were tied. She was in and I realized I had to simply
tread carefully. Besides, she was technically my sister-in-law, more
like partner-in-law. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As
agreed, she was at my place three days later. We were to begin the
first phase of her induction as she had put it. I was surprised when I
received her call around noon on that day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey Geebee dear. I’m on my way now. Are you home?” she said from her end.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I hesitated before responding. “Yeah, but I thought you were going to come much later. Is it not too early for you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Well, I’m already on my way. Should I turn back?” she responded rudely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, it’s alright. You can come,” I said weakly. “Let me know once you arrive at the bus stop so I’ll come get you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
ended the call and sighed in frustration. I had not expected her until
around five o’clock in the evening. I had planned to simply meet her at
the bus stop and together we would go straight to the café. I had not
even wanted her to come to my place. However, as things stood, I didn’t
have a choice. It was rather too early to go to the café and I had no
rapport with her to the extent where I would have suggested we go
somewhere to while away the time until evening. Apparently, I was stuck!
My phone rang again, interrupting my thoughts. It was BG.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hello BG,” I said into the mouthpiece.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hey baby. What’s up? Where are you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m home,” I said, wondering why she was asking me where I was. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Okay. Anyway Cher said she’ll be coming to your place later so you guys would go to the café.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I scoffed. That was old news. Almost immediately, something she had said caught my attention.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I thought she was on her way,” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, she said she was going to see a friend and do some stuff before coming to your end later.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
instantly found it difficult to breathe. I wanted to tell BG that her
sister had just called me to inform me that she was on her way but on
second thought, I decided to keep quiet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Okay, no problem.” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Alright baby. Please call me when you guys are together, okay,”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
thought about calling Cher immediately to verify what I had just heard
from her sister. Perhaps, I had misunderstood her earlier. She had
probably meant she was on her way out and would see me later. I was in
this fix for another fifteen minutes until my phone rang again. It was
Cher. She informed me that she was at my bus stop. What was happening
here? I asked myself. Whatever was going on, I didn’t like it one bit, I
told myself as I hurriedly cleaned up the room. I left for the bus stop
to pick her with myriads of thoughts assaulting my mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
About
ten minutes later, I was unlocking my front door with Cher behind me.
It took an eternity to fit the key into the lock and I hoped she had not
observed my lack of composure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So, you’re welcome. Please make yourself comfortable,” I said, trying as much as possible to stay calm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thanks,” she said, dropping her bag and sitting in the ‘lazy boy’ I had in a corner of the room. “Wow, this is nice.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
looked at my watch. It was just past one o’clock. How was I supposed to
sit with this lady for another four hours without falling apart like a
pack of cards? I thought. I reminded myself that I was a big boy who had
girls at his beck and call. This wouldn’t be the first time I had a
lady in my apartment. In fact, I had spent the previous night with one
so why in hell was I feeling like jelly? Cher was just like any other
girl. There was no big deal about her! I corrected myself almost
immediately. She wasn’t like just any other girl. She was hot; she was
intimidating; she had an annoying attitude; she was my pregnant
girlfriend’s sister and she was in the same room with me without her
sister’s knowledge! Now, that was a peculiar situation!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Helloooooooo!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I jumped! It was Cher. Apparently, she had been talking to me while I was miles away in thought. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Sorry, you were saying?” I asked foolishly, instantly hating myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Where were you, mister?” she said, getting up and walking towards me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
felt I would choke on my saliva as she got to where I stood but to my
greatest surprise, she passed beside me and reached for a magazine on
the TV stand. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Wow! So you read GQ magazine too. Is this the latest edition?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I
heaved a sigh and looked at my watch again. It was barely five minutes
since I had last checked it. This was going to be the longest four hours
of my life, I realized.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-21320977136925016822012-06-30T19:48:00.004+01:002012-10-05T10:18:26.046+01:00MERGERS AND ACQUISITIONS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey folks,<br />
It's been yet another looooong while. I've been tied up with so much in the past weeks that I've barely had the time to stop by on blogger, do blog rounds or write any post. I thought I'd drop this poem I wrote recently. Enjoy and let me know what you think.<br />
<br />
MERGERS AND ACQUISITIONS<br />
<br />
Mergers and Acquisitions shouldn’t be only about companies<br />
Banks taking over banks, the strong swallowing up the weak<br />
Alliances being forged by organizations of rivaling strengths<br />
Financial success and survival being the one thing they all seek<br />
<br />
I live in a nation whose people amaze me to no end<br />
A land where spirituality and religion enjoy an unrivalled allegiance<br />
A territory where people hide under various religious garbs and identities<br />
And to one supreme being, the Almighty God they pay obeisance<br />
<br />
Religion is the opium of the people, Karl Marx rightly proposed<br />
Unite a people under one faith and you have a people truly united<br />
Bind them with the cord of religion and you have one people<br />
Thus, the Medieval Empires for centuries remained undefeated<br />
<br />
In this discourse, my nation is a peculiar one<br />
Religion continues to take the centre stage in our affairs<br />
The irony however, remains the backward state of the nation<br />
I wonder if my people indeed practice the faith they profess<br />
<br />
I thought righteousness was supposed to exalt a nation<br />
Wasn’t a religious nation supposed to be a righteous one?<br />
More churches, mosques and shrines spring up in their numbers<br />
And in the epic battle between good and evil, evil has continually won<br />
<br />
Do our places of prayer still carry the presence of God?<br />
Or are the churches, mosques and shrines simply taking up space?<br />
If indeed the presence of God resided in our numerous places of prayer,<br />
Our country would indeed compete with Heaven in numerous ways<br />
<br />
Mergers and Acquisitions are formed for specific purposes<br />
Among others, they tackle ineffectiveness, inefficiency and lack of productivity<br />
Perhaps, we need mergers and acquisitions in our nation’s places of prayer<br />
Perhaps, this will usher in a visible divine presence and a renewed<br />
trend of positivity<br />
<br />
If all the church denominations were merged into one specific denomination<br />
How great would such a church be?<br />
If all the mosques or shrines were merged into one mosque or shrine<br />
We would no doubt some progress see<br />
<br />
Mergers and Acquisitions create a new company with one goal and direction<br />
One church, One mosque, One shrine, with specific goals would be formidable<br />
They would be indeed much more powerful than the political government<br />
Their impact would be felt from the seat of power to the horses’ stable<br />
<br />
Now imagine if the three formidable forces all merged into one<br />
That would no doubt pave way for a new nation – a new national order<br />
Of course that remains an impossible dream but then who knows?<br />
I sigh as I think about religion and my nation and I can’t help but wonder.<br />
<br />
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES would continue in the next post (soon, I hope. *winks*)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-15031912844202451602012-05-23T14:52:00.000+01:002012-10-05T10:19:28.719+01:00EPISODE 52 – SEEING THE FUTURE?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">If there is any spiritual gift I seriously
crave for, it is the gift of prophecy; the ability to be able to see or predict
the future. Now, I don’t mean predictions that don’t come true or those that
come true in parts, leaving people skeptical on whether a prediction was actually
truly inspired or was just guesswork. For instance, I know of some preachers in
my nation who have made predictions (or prophecies) on a lot of issues ranging
from ‘being instructed by God to run for political positions’ to things that
would happen in the economy, the death of political figures etc. Unfortunately,
so many of these predictions never came true and I’m forced to wonder if indeed
the ‘gifts of prophecy’ these men were supposed to possess had somehow gone
soft or something.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid323gh0iFsAqqTitarOu1ME1-m_mXAE37Zrb7tIOChJpWj6B65ZsgDDsWR7M_kGfkX-iAKZpUOsMnAMDeAVYGcePRW4rctjv7x5rK8Kh4_BjDUrOI1HF53gNNu3c6xzIEB5yxjKNX2vIE/s1600/seeing_the_future.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid323gh0iFsAqqTitarOu1ME1-m_mXAE37Zrb7tIOChJpWj6B65ZsgDDsWR7M_kGfkX-iAKZpUOsMnAMDeAVYGcePRW4rctjv7x5rK8Kh4_BjDUrOI1HF53gNNu3c6xzIEB5yxjKNX2vIE/s400/seeing_the_future.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com.ng/imgres?imgurl=http://www.elfwood.com/art/s/t/steiger/seeing_the_future.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.elfwood.com/~steiger/Seeing-the-future.3253926.html&usg=__4fVA2FcWR6l-zvf-RlKbD_58xEA=&h=432&w=624&sz=23&hl=en&start=12&zoom=1&tbnid=jv_fJDS_Z0oDLM:&tbnh=94&tbnw=136&ei=3Oe8T_-8GsKW0QXU68hZ&itbs=1">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Recently, it was alleged that
another preacher predicted the outcome of the final of the Champions League
match. I watched that match and I honestly have to admit that I was ready to
laugh at the prophecy once the game was over. Reason: From all indications
during that game, it hardly looked like the prediction would come true. The
team that was foreseen as the winner was seriously outplayed and they were at a
disadvantage by all standards – going into the game, during the game and even
during the resulting penalty shootout – but alas, the prophecy/prediction came
true and I’ve been in awe ever since.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Now, I’m not implying that the
alleged prophecy/prediction makes the preacher a superman or something but that
feat actually got him trending on Twitter for two days in a row and I laughed
my butt out at the numerous posts that were hash tagged with this preacher’s
identity and the funny questions that were thrown at him regarding events that
would happen in the future. The reactions were further influenced by the fact
that this man had once predicted that the national team wouldn’t make it to the
Nations Cup and indeed they did not. Now, with these prophetic achievements,
why won’t people literally make this man the Nigerian version of Nostradamus? I
have begun to wish I could be <i>Geebeestradamus</i> and indeed see the future and all
that would happen. If only I could see the future, I would take advantage of a
lot of situations and likewise avoid a lot more. Life would be perfect! I’ll keep
praying anyway and maybe I’ll get my wish someday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The phenomenon called regret
comes about when sometime in the future we wish we had taken or not taken
certain actions. If we had an idea of what would happen if we did some things,
we would know better to do or not do a lot of things. Unfortunately, life is
not meant to be that way so we are stuck with making our decisions guided by
our personal experiences or those of others among other factors. Usually, we
have a voice in our heads that either propels us to do some things or warns us
against it. The strength of that voice is usually a function of the personality
of the individual and while it is highly active in some people, it is inactive
in others. Usually, every time we disobey that voice, it gets weaker and
ultimately loses its effect. I believe that voice could be sometimes referred
to as our conscience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As much as the voice in my head
warned me against venturing into the Yahoo-Yahoo business, I constantly resisted
and tried to justify my actions and before long, the voice hardly mattered to
me. In fact it was barely audible to my spiritual ears. I was deeply involved
now and things were beginning to look up. With five <i>magas</i> and counting, prospective ones in the works, a new partner
and more prospects I was yet to actualize, I could not imagine quitting at that
stage. I had since decided I would not do it forever but I was not as convinced
about that resolve as I was at inception. However, with my firing of Nuel as my
partner and Cher’s entry, things took a totally different dimension and if
indeed I could see the future, I would have simply held on to Nuel or better
still, quit the business altogether. It was a wrong way of life, anyway! <i>Like I didn’t know! </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I had only met Cher on about
three occasions and spoken with her on phone prior to the commencement of our
partnership so naturally, I felt a little clumsy around her for many reasons.
One, she was my pregnant girlfriend’s sister. Two, she was quite breathtaking
in her own way. Of course, I had met more beautiful girls but Cher had a
confidence about her in her carriage and speech that seemed to accentuate her
beauty. Three, she had a serious attitude problem. Unfortunately, as much as I
would have loved to put her where she belonged with a good deal of
tongue-lashing, I couldn’t. I figured BG and I owed her. She, it was who had
lent her moral support while we attempted to terminate the pregnancy even
though I had to overlook her irritating behaviour all the while. Furthermore,
she had been the one who broke the story to her eldest sister and saved BG the
stress of having to do it herself. One way or the other, we owed her and I was
sure she was the kind of lady who wouldn’t hesitate to rub that fact in. Four,
she was four years older than I was and that fact made me understand that it
would be difficult to relate with her just as a partner. There would be a
number of issues I would have to bear with and I would have to maintain an
extra measure of calmness with her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As promised, within a week, I had
the drivers’ license ready with her picture and the cover-up name I had been
using for my <i>magas</i>. I was to be the
brain and ‘fingers’ of the business empire and she was to be the face and
voice. I was amused at Cher’s excitement when I visited the house and gave her
the ID.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Wow! This is cool. So, I’m
officially AY now, right? BG, check this out!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
BG collected the ID and surveyed
it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I wish I wasn’t in this
condition.” She said, referring to her bulging tummy. “I would have been the
one in this ID.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I smiled. “If you weren’t in this
condition, this ID would never have existed in the first place.” I said
sarcastically.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We laughed and while BG and Cher
chatted away, I sat in silence and allowed my gaze to stray to the bulging
tummy. The pregnancy was closing on six months and again, I was reminded I was
going to become a father in another three months. I would have traded
everything to be spared of that eventuality – even my ‘business empire’! I had
been praying secretly that a miscarriage of some sort would happen but nothing
of such was yet to happen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So what’s the first mission,
Geebee dear?” Cher said, interrupting my thoughts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I hesitated before responding. “Well,
I chatted with Dean yesterday and promised to give him my phone details
tonight.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“That would be my number, right?”
she asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes. It’s going to be your
number but not your regular phone number.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I reached into my pocket and
brought out a sim pack. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Here, I got you a new line. You’ll
only use it to receive his calls and any other calls from any future <i>magas.</i><b>”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>“</b><i>Magas</i>?” BG asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was about to explain when Cher
cut in. “Those are the fools we are going to be duping, silly!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I winced. She never had to make
it sound so bad, I mentally noted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Or am I wrong?” she probed, lightly
poking me in the side. “You’re right” I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So I’m going to give you updates
whenever I chat with whoever is going to call you just so you know how to respond
on phone.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Wow, this is <i>gonna</i> be so cool. I can’t wait.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Meanwhile, we have some money to
go and pick up now. That’s why I brought the license anyway.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One of my latest <i>magas</i>, Prakash, an Indian in U.K had
sent me £100 the previous day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Can I come with you guys?” BG
asked morosely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Are you sure you want to come?”
I asked after a moment of hesitation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She nodded. “I’m bored here. I
just want to go out with you. Nobody knows me around here anyway.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I sighed and was about to speak
when Cher cut in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No way. If she’s coming with us
like this, then I’m not going anywhere.” She said pointedly. <br />
By ‘this’, she meant BG’s protruding tummy. I was too stunned to speak. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
BG lashed at her sister. “If not for this pregnancy, do you think we would even
need you for anything?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh really? Okay, fine then! I quit!”
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
To my utmost shock, she threw the
license at me and stormed out of the living room.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes! Get out! We don’t need you.”
BG screamed after her angrily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I picked up the license and
relaxed in the chair. I sighed and closed my eyes for a while. What the hell
was going on? I wondered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“So what do we do now?” I said after
a few minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“She’s too full of herself.” BG
lashed out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But we need her, you know.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I don’t care!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I wanted to yell at her. I wanted
to curse her for putting me in such a situation. I wanted to tell her that if
not for her pregnancy, I wouldn’t even have thought about going into the damned
illegal business! I wanted to tell her to go to hell along with her sisters and
her entire family! I wanted to go into the room after Cher, beat her silly and
storm out of the house! I wanted to do so many things but I didn’t. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Thirty minutes later, the three
of us were on our way to a nearby bank that had Western Union Money Transfer
facilities. I had been able to pacify the two sisters and Cher had grudgingly accepted
that BG accompanied us. Cher had asked to come along with me to the café the
next day so she could ‘experience the action firsthand’ and I agreed. BG did
not ask to come along this time and I was glad to avoid another sisterly
scuffle. As we entered the banking hall, I wondered if bringing Cher into the
business was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, I had no powers to see the
future and had to rely on the passage of time to know for sure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-27797095324889059172012-05-03T11:00:00.002+01:002012-10-05T10:20:10.424+01:00EPISODE 51 – A NEW PARTNER-IN-CRIME<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Every businessperson has a major
motive for doing what they do and usually, it is to make profit. Generally, profit
refers to the difference between the cost incurred and the revenue realized in
a business venture. Back in University as a student of Economics, I learnt that
at the initial stage of business, it tends to be difficult to make profit and
as such, the aim of the businessperson would be to minimize cost. All costs
incurred (financial, physical and mental) must be put into consideration to
determine the profitability of a venture and from time to time, some unnecessary
costs must be cut off if a business is to survive. I understand the cost of
running the Nigerian economy – payment of the salaries of officers at the three
tiers of government and all other parastatals – is put at about 70% of the
budget. In my opinion, this is a most ridiculous situation. Why would you spend
almost three-quarters of the business funds on administration? If the Nigerian
economy was a business venture, it would definitely be bankrupt by now. ECO
101. Class dismissed!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In <a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2012/04/episode-49-covering-my-tracks.html">Episode 49</a>, I mentioned that, at
the brink of losing the money that I was yet to even touch, I resorted to
bringing my friend, Nuel into the picture. Reason: <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5va7F_3YlEXtbR-2kU1e59PFBuBSeX0y7bQiubyj6AtISZkAAG3VmIhzb5IT_qMqOGzekjw1ZOIu8t64tiQhRuOBTnfwrqPMl8oJ2SqHuVkuT7b2v6JJ3I8prDVUJymYXGbvYqLKHFA0l/s1600/AwardpartnerincrimeGold.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5va7F_3YlEXtbR-2kU1e59PFBuBSeX0y7bQiubyj6AtISZkAAG3VmIhzb5IT_qMqOGzekjw1ZOIu8t64tiQhRuOBTnfwrqPMl8oJ2SqHuVkuT7b2v6JJ3I8prDVUJymYXGbvYqLKHFA0l/s320/AwardpartnerincrimeGold.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z195/sparkletags4/import/graphics/Award_Certificates_And_Ribbons/AwardpartnerincrimeGold.png">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Receiving money via Western
Union required the receiver to have all or at least one of a national drivers’
license, an international passport or a national identity card. Nuel had the
required form of identification and I had none. The <i>bromance</i> was cool while it lasted and he proved to be a good
partner-in-crime. He received the payments on my behalf without any hassles and
of course I had to ‘<i>settle’</i> him for
his services. It was the settlement issue that was responsible for the ECO 101
lesson earlier. At a point, the cost became unbearable. I was paying him well
for his services and Nuel practically became my <i>follow-buddy</i>, going everywhere with me much to my chagrin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I now had good money to spend so
it was always a fun galore every night. My usual hangout was <i>Liberia</i>, a cool spot in my neighbourhood
where everything fun you could imagine was abundant – from ear-splitting music
to fish and meat peppersoup, barbecue, suya, beer, wines, local gins, marijuana
and prostitutes; you name it and you would find it in <i>Liberia</i>. The place was called <i>Liberia</i>
because it was a settlement of Liberian refugees and they had taken their
future in their hands in the ways they knew how to. I would call a few friends
to join me and we would blow some good money. Of course I always footed the
bills. Nuel was always with me and on a good number of occasions whenever I
decided to take a girl home to spend the night, Nuel would get one too and you
could guess who paid the bills again. Before long, I was feeling like a <i>maga</i> and I decided to shop for a new
accomplice so I could fire Nuel. There was no room for sentiments and I hid
under the great Donald Trump’s philosophy: ‘It’s nothing personal. It’s just
business’. Business was for profit and I couldn’t afford to keep Nuel in my payroll.
Retaining his services had become too expensive for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Like a good businessman, I began
to consider the qualities I would want in my new associate. There were a number
of factors to consider. At that moment, I had three steady <i>magas</i> who were sure to continue paying for a while, probably until
the scales fell off their eyes. There were prospective ones too. I was also bothered
about the ‘face’ of my budding ‘business empire’. I knew it was only a matter
of time before the face of the model would be discovered as a fraud and the
pressures from Miles Peck to communicate with him on webcam was gradually becoming
overbearing. He wished to see the beautiful AY he had fallen in love with and
how was I to let him know there was no AY? Dean Flank had sent me his phone
number and asked that I call him because he wanted to hear my voice. How was I
to do that? With my sonorous masculine voice? Hell no! Luke Pine was due in
Ghana for his medical conference in a few weeks and had promised to come see me
in Lagos. He even promised to send me money to book a nice hotel for us to stay
for three days. I had suggested Eko Hotel. Time and time again, I wished I was
really the model in the picture. My bright future would have been settled for
good! My options were indeed juicy and I could only imagine what it would feel
like to be actually married to any of the trio – Miles Peck, an engineer, Dean
Flank, a University professor or Luke Pine, a medical doctor. I wished the
experience was indeed for real. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I realized however that my days
were numbered with these men. I couldn’t possibly keep up with the lie for too
long especially with the pressures of requesting to see my face or hear my
voice. I began to focus on the future and decided to get a new face to work
together with the model, acting as the voice and the webcam face if ever there
was the need. BG would have been the most natural choice considering our
relationship. However, her pregnancy made it impossible to get her involved. When
I initially intimated her about my new line of business, she didn’t hide her
fear one bit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What? <i>Yahoo-Yahoo</i>!” she echoed in shock. “What if you get caught?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I had shrugged. “Well, you just
pray I don’t. What else do you expect me to do with the pressures from you and
your people?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
BG fell silent and I felt lighter
pointing it out to her that I wasn’t doing this because I felt like doing it but
because she had put me in that situation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Geebee, can’t you think of
anything else to do meanwhile?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Of course I can and that’s what
I’ve been doing so far? Whatever I make legitimately can barely cater for me;
talk less of considering you and this pregnancy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She sighed in frustration and I couldn’t
care less. In fact, I found it easy to hate her so much then. Why did she have
to get pregnant and put me in such a situation? Her family’s reaction to the
entire situation further enraged me, especially her eldest sister, Mrs. Oki’s
constant naggings which were yet to cease. Eventually, I convinced her to agree
with me in my new ‘business line’; not that she had a choice anyway. She wouldn’t
have expected me to go and get money from trees to take care of her and her
pregnancy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When I broached the subject of my
‘face’ dilemma and the considerations, she was very cooperative.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I can make and receive the calls
so long as you brief me early enough on what you guys chat about,” she offered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I agreed. We still had one more
hurdle however. For future <i>magas</i>, I needed
to cover the ‘webcam’ loophole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But you can’t possibly show your
face on the webcam” I pointed out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Indeed, she couldn’t. She couldn’t
even dare venture out of her sister’s house. Her pregnancy was still a secret
to most people and I preferred it remained that way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Cher can help.” BG said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It was another ‘lightbulb-turned-on-in-my-head’
experience. Yeah right! Cher had proved herself in the past while we <a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2010/07/episode-33-tighter-knot.html">attempted the abortion</a> and she had also helped us <a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2012/01/episode-43-resisting-blackmail.html">break the news to their eldest sister</a>.
She was smart and equally stunning. She could not hold a candle to my model but
I would simply have to make do with her. Fortunately, Cher came in shortly
after and when I threw the proposition to her, she was elated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Wow! Count me in. I love
adventures like this,” she said excitedly. “I’m glad it’s not the case of another
phantom pregnancy you guys need me for this time around.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I sighed in relief and thought
about Nuel who had just been officially replaced. I dismissed the sentiments
immediately. The business had to move forward. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I briefed Cher about everything
from start to finish. I told her I would get her a drivers’ license bearing the
‘cover name’ and she would be the one to receive any payments from the <i>magas</i>. By the time I stopped talking;
Cher had a look on her face I had never seen before. She was staring at me like
I was some enigma.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You are one smart guy, Geebee.
My sister is so lucky to have you and I envy her,” she said sweetly. She still
had her gaze fixed on me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I simply smiled and looked at BG.
She was smiling too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I realized Cher had a point
there. Her sister still had me but as far as I was concerned, it was only for a
while, at least until the baby was born. I was no fool and would never be tied
down to any woman because of an unfortunate pregnancy. However, something about
Cher’s words sounded a little beyond a mere compliment and no one else except
me seemed to have noticed this. Perhaps it was just my stupid imaginations at
work, I told myself. I sighed again. My ‘business empire’ was back on track.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-25992711483268835852012-04-25T15:40:00.000+01:002012-10-05T10:20:53.322+01:00EPISODE 50 – A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="text-align: justify;">When I was much younger, I
believed you only grow older when you mark your birthday. Thus, when my sixth birthday
was not celebrated with a party, I assumed it meant I was still five years old.
It took a little while before I adjusted to the reality of the fact that not
every birthday must be marked in a big way. However, in our part of the world,
certain birthdays are looked upon specially. For instance, your first birthday,
your third, seventh, tenth, twelfth, eighteenth, twenty-first, twenty-fifth,
seventy-fifth and all the </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunIGY7fMReqJELkvPgThu8PkMUeYKEaJqowx_3aWaQ2WUHm8lFE7iz27R9PViwCWm3H7asG7x4_b0jQG0XJsQp4Cef5PDUEyKN_ITCBVAq8ZKxIJKJzS8hF03V28JAr0-WPFLINjWdNaJ/s1600/50.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://xperiences-in-life.blogspot.com/2009/10/golden-jubilee.html">Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">birthday numbers in multiples of ten are usually
celebrated. My brother turned thirty last month and didn’t even throw a party
and I was like . . . Really? Well, maybe
I’m just being sentimental but I strongly believe in setting milestones,
recording achievements and the need to celebrate or at least acknowledging the
crossing of a particular landmark.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This post is very special to me
because it marks the golden jubilee of ‘The Geebee Chronicles’ series. I consider
it special because it is definitely different from doing fifty random blog
posts. Writing a series based on 70% fact and 30% fiction could be especially
difficult. I can confidently tell you that it takes a lot of courage, caution and
determination to do this. I’m glad we are at this point and I can’t thank you
all enough for being there. Really, what’s the point of doing a series if no
one is going to read it? I really wouldn’t have loved to call names but I have
to acknowledge the bloggers who’ve been a part of this series all this while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>To those who originally began
this journey with me: </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Aloted, Bumight, StandTall, Writefreak,
Buttercup, Nefertiti, Kinshar, Solomon Sydelle, Jaguda, Wellsbaba, Rita, Uzezi,
Simeone, Beauty, Original Mgbeke, Femi B, Yewande Atanda, Miss Definitely
Maybe, Doug, Iwalewa, Aloofar etc. They are those I’d like to call ‘veterans’.
They were my idols and made blogging practically become my life back then.
Thanks for the tutelage and the love, uncles and aunties. Lol</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>To those who joined the series
wagon along the way:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Olufunke, Myne Whitman, Qmoney,
Tisha, Tommeh, Enkay, Chacha, Spicy, Danny Bagucci, Doll, Spesh, Mikey, Eddee (<i>Where are you, bro?),</i> BSNC, Mariaah, MPB
etc. They joined the party and blended even though it was already in full
swing, making me feel all the more determined to continue. You guys are
awesome!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>And those who joined the wagon more
recently:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Atilola (my wonderful editor and
close <i>padi</i> now. Lol), Toinlicious,
Rhelow, Ibifiri Kamson, LohiO, Nafisat etc. They came in after I had taken a
long hiatus and my blog was almost deserted. Lol. Still, they’ve been around.
Thanks people. You guys are the best!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The list is far from exhaustive
but those were the names I could recall. Of course a good number of them have
jumped off the wagon and some have even quit blogging and I definitely miss
them. Thanks y’all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Lifting from <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2010/01/episode-24-recap.html">Episode 24</a></b> which was a recap of the first twenty three episodes, I
would again state that my motivation for starting the series was the fact that
I had always wanted to do an autobiography someday and planned to start when I
turned forty. However, the events that have occurred in my life since my
eighteenth year have totally set me on an unplanned and unexpected course and
while everyone has a story, I see mine as a pretty unique and could not resist
the urge to share it. The original idea of my autobiography was to simply talk
about my life and my previous forty years of existence (of course when I turned
40), achievements in the academic world and writing world among other things.
Sincerely, that was the dream back then. However, life had something totally
different in stock for me with experiences of all kinds – pleasant and
unpleasant. Then I started blogging in 2008 as a twenty-three year old final
year student of Economics in University and a father to a daughter who had just
turned one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My posts were mostly random and
just straight from my heart and head. I wrote about anything – from football,
family, school experiences etc. The idea of an autobiography was gradually
slipping away because as it were, most of my earlier dreams were looking less
likely to come true. I watched the first two seasons of Chris Rock’s ‘Everybody
Hates Chris’ around that period as well and was impressed with the huge success
of the comic television series where Rock gave an account of his life from 1982
when he was twelve years old. Then I thought, why not begin a literary version
of my own story in the little way on this platform – blogging – and that was
how the series was born. It was dated from 2003 and so far, four years have
passed in the series. The <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2012/04/episode-49-covering-my-tracks.html">last episode</a></b>
of the series was <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2012/04/episode-49-covering-my-tracks.html">Episode 49</a> </b>set in
April 2007. Of course, like in ‘Everybody Hates Chris’, not everything you’ve
been reading here is entirely true but assuredly, at least 70% of the story is
true. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It has been awesome so far and
sometimes I regret the breaks I had to take. Being a student then, I had
examinations, final year projects and a lot of other distractions that often
took my time. Then, getting out of school, job scouting, family minding and
other issues also took its toll. Notwithstanding, it’s been a most rewarding
experience. In the process of doing this series, I was <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2009/03/breaking-news-best-student-blog.html">nominated for blog awards</a></b> in <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2009/03/episode-12-taking-plunge.html">three</a>
categories</b> in 2009 and <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-30-time-to-keep-your-mouth-shut.html">one</a></b> in
2010. Even though I did not win, no thanks to the ‘veterans’ I was nominated
with (lol), it felt great to actually be considered for blog awards. In fact, I
still include that as one of my career milestones in my official resume –
Nominee, Nigeria Bloggers Award 2009 and 2010. Not bad, right? But yes, ‘Winner’
would definitely have sounded better. Well, half bread is better than none
after all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometime after I started, I
decided I would turn the series into a book. Now, I’m thinking it would be a
collection of three books. Work has begun in earnest on the first book anyway
so please buy it when it drops o. Lol. Then, a television series or soap opera would
definitely not be a bad idea too, so if you know anyone at MNet or other top
international producers who might be interested, holla at me o! Seriously!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have been asked on a number of
occasions when the series would end. As at 2008 when it began, I thought the
duration would be from 2003 till 2007 but truth is, so many events have
unfolded in my life since then that I honestly don’t know when the series would
end. My guess though is, it would stop on or before the year 2015 when I would
turn thirty. However, I wouldn’t be able to say if it would run for that long
on this blog. Lately, I’ve been itching to do some other things on this blog besides
the series but not to worry; the books would tell you all you need to know.
Remember, we still have about eight years (2007 – 2015) to go so you know it’s
definitely far from over. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So that’s the little story behind
‘The Geebee Chronicles’ series. Hope you’ve been well acquainted so far. You
can always update yourself by clicking <b><a href="http://gbengasile.blogspot.com/p/episodes.html">HERE</a></b>
or on the ‘Series Episodes’ tab to access the full list of series episodes from
start till date. I actually planned to continue the story from the last episode
on this post but felt led to do something different. Mind me not; I just had to
celebrate this milestone so please bear with me. Episode 51 is ready anyway and
should hit you pretty soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF
THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157035484348893042.post-77586582469784631152012-04-22T17:02:00.002+01:002012-10-05T10:28:51.088+01:00ANTONYMS OF A MIRAGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hey People,</span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div style="color: #454545;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In case you didn't know, my home girl and our very own <a href="http://www.atilola.blogspot.com/">Atilola</a> has recently dropped a book that's definitely gonna set a new standard in the literary world for a long time to come (Well, until mine drops. Lol). Coincidentally, she's editing my book right now and trust me when I </span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">say she's doing one hell of a job on it. So, you can imagine what she's done on her own book. No flattery but she's the best writer and editor for miles so if you're looking for someone to do some magic on your book, you know where to turn. </span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sJZFaZpqLpPFti8-OZW4tpNjJrf0abNNlHZB2GiNKu3u-8UJ9vtU5Rg3BK46WG5EdIMcP3Yg6UTxAffRcUl2CpxaABMM25nbNCEbO8NN1wlgwp3w4WJdhrqiqp0PKYPnjQ1y5IetKRIr/s1600/atilola.jpg" style="background-color: transparent; clear: left; float: left; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sJZFaZpqLpPFti8-OZW4tpNjJrf0abNNlHZB2GiNKu3u-8UJ9vtU5Rg3BK46WG5EdIMcP3Yg6UTxAffRcUl2CpxaABMM25nbNCEbO8NN1wlgwp3w4WJdhrqiqp0PKYPnjQ1y5IetKRIr/s320/atilola.jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sJZFaZpqLpPFti8-OZW4tpNjJrf0abNNlHZB2GiNKu3u-8UJ9vtU5Rg3BK46WG5EdIMcP3Yg6UTxAffRcUl2CpxaABMM25nbNCEbO8NN1wlgwp3w4WJdhrqiqp0PKYPnjQ1y5IetKRIr/s1600/atilola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I just finished my copy of 'Antonyms of a Mirage' and in spite of how much I tried to 'mise' the book, I couldn't. It's a page-turner, trust me. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I present to you Atilola Moronfolu's 'Antonyms of a Mirage'. Now, tell me the simple mention of that title alone hasn't blown your mind. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here's a preview from one of the stories in the book. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A preview from ‘In My Pocket’</span></span></b></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">‘Goshe – A short form of Shokolokobangoshe</span></span></b></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Scenario 2</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Mummy Bobo:</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> <i>Olowo ori mi</i> (owner of my head), how was that favourite food of yours that I made for you? I am sure you enjoyed it. I have come to tell you about Bobo, your son. He is about to write his SSCE exams. The other day, I heard my senior wife bragging to her cousin that kola, her son, made all his papers two years ago because he is hardworking and brilliant. She then said she is sure Bobo will do the opposite and fail woefully. <i>Olowo ori mi</i>, please, don't let my enemies laugh at me. I know you can help me get the exam questions on the eve of every exam paper. This is the only way Bobo will be able to prove her wrong and shut her mouth forever. Daddy Bobo, you always say you love me more than my senior wife and if you really mean that, you will not let her have the last laugh over me.<br />
<br />
<b>Chief Goshe:</b> Woman! Woman!! Woman!!! I have always warned you about this Bobo of a boy, but you will never listen to me. You spoil him too much, I hope he won't be the source of your downfall in future. Anyway, I will give you what you request, after which he will go to the UK to start his foundation course. You better warn your son to buckle up now, because there is no way I will fly over to meet David Cameron to organize exam papers by the time he gets to the UK. A word is enough for the wise. For now, the exam questions are not a problem. I have the education sector IN MY POCKET!<br />
</span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Scenario 3</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Oloyinbo:</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> (Getting up from his two minutes prostration, which Chief Goshe acknowledged by massaging his head with the sole of his left foot, he then starts hailing loudly) Baba Goshe, Baba mi, you will live long, your enemies will not see their children. Anyone that says it will not be well with you, it won't be well with them too.<br />
Baba mi, the time has come. I need your help seriously. It’s time for the councillor election for the local constituencies. As I told you last year, I intend to contest and since I have adopted you as my political father, who else will I run to but you? Baba Goshe, don't worry about my credentials. The minimum requirement is the SSCE result and I have already sorted that out with some boys and now have my results. All I need now is your backing and support. Baba mi, I am in your hand now <i>o</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>Chief Goshe:</b> Oloyinbo, my nephew, see your mango head like that of my father. You want to run for councillor, hmm? I thought you were joking when you mentioned it last year. I hope you know the implications of what you are doing? The politics of our time is not for the lily-livered at all. You have to be on your toes at all times. Be ready to make friends and enemies, be ready to do anything to protect your political career and even your life from political detractors. It’s a dog eat dog world and make sure you are ready for all the consequences. You should have just accepted the business I offered to set up for you, but you youths of nowadays have been bitten by the get-rich-quick bug. Since you insist, I will help you. I will take you to a meeting tomorrow, where you will meet some powerful people. But know this one thing, you must not, in turn, bite the fingers of these powerful people, including mine, when you win. You will have to dance to their tunes. Otherwise, the ground will have no choice but to reject you.<br />
After tomorrow, your victory is a done deal. Even if you don't contest, you have won! It’s a done deal, I have the electoral system IN MY POCKET!<br />
<br />
<b></b></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Scenario 4</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><br />
<b>Sisi Peperempe:</b> (After a steamy sex session) Honey boy, cookie crumble, sweetie, darling, sugar! I need your assistance <i>o</i>. You remember my youngest brother, Dodoyo, he's in Anti-graft commission’s custody. He was arrested last week<br />
(Kissing his fat filled pot belly). They said he posed as a minister and defrauded some companies. You know the story of my family and how Dodoyo and I had to see ourselves through life by all means possible. He's the only family I have. We have gone through so much and he doesn't deserve jail time or to lose all he has worked for. (Pouting her lips, with permanent red lipstick on) Baby boo, you must help Dodoyo or else ehn...<br />
<br />
<b>Chief Goshe</b>: Sisi Peperempe! C'mon, rest your little head. Why are you worrying yourself over nothing? I am disappointed in the way you keep worrying and emphasizing on this issue. After the three years of us playing this 'love game', you still worry about these little things. Before you start your rants again, don't worry I forgive you. I guarantee you that it is settled. Give me a maximum of two days, Dodoyo will get out of custody and all his frozen assets will be returned. Plus the anti-graft commission, plus the person that created the anti-graft commission, I have them all IN MY POCKET!<br />
<br />
<b>Scenario 5</b></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Mr. Sinwonje:</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> (Smacking his stomach during a meal of Suya and bottles of Lager beer at a popular elite club in Abuja) Chief Goshe, what are you going to do about this latest development now? I think Mr. President is serious about this power thing this time around <i>o</i>. If those Japanese people dare sign that contract of the electricity overhaul in this country, that line of business is over for me <i>o</i>, and you know that means you will also lose your regular cut. Hmm, Goshe, this is not good news at all. That is my major income-generating business and I use it to keep body and soul, Princess and Priscilla together. Imagine that this whole country, Nigeria, will not need generators or diesels to make their life easier. This is serious disaster. I will do anything to make it fail….<br />
<br />
<b>Read the rest of this and a lot more in your copy of Antonyms of a Mirage</b></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1335109892338154" style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: #666666;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1335109892338153" lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Watch the trailer <a href="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZjeqJKliqYc"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>HERE</b></span></a></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">Buy ANTONYMS OF A MIRAGE on </span><a href="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=atilolablogsp-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B007V5OKZ8&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Amazon</span></b></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div class="yiv1467282768MsoNormal" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1335109892338163" style="background-color: white; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1335109892338162" lang="EN-GB" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="color: #234786; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div>
</div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com