Category Archives: Inspirational Friday

Reality story: WHEN I WAS RAPED by Nicole Economou | GBAMLOG.COM

In high school, a relationship can last only a few days or weeks, enough to get one through the social events of the season, which in this case were the Spring Formal and the Powder Puff Game. Today, I cannot recall which came first. I know this: I attended both the kegger that followed the game and the formal dance with a rapist. My rapist.

He was the captain of a sports team and was regarded as having a shot at a professional career, even if he also was clearly deficient in the brains department. I liked him simply because I was concerned at the time with being popular, and dating a sports captain was an automatic ticket to the in crowd.

I was also uncomfortably a member of the Most Likely to Succeed crowd, and dating a high school sports star was becoming a habit for me; I’d previously been dating another less-than-brilliant young man who ranked high on the rosters of both the football and baseball teams. He was no prince of morals either; he dated me behind the back of his “real” girlfriend, who ultimately was crowned homecoming queen.

But we left the keg party to drive to the house where he lived with his parents and pick up some eight-track tapes for the party. I had consumed a little bit of beer at the party just to fit in, as I didn’t like beer and wasn’t accustomed to drinking. I felt drunk, unstable on my feet.

A COUPLE OF YEARS LATER, I ENCOUNTERED MY RAPIST ON SPRING BREAK FROM COLLEGE AT A HOMETOWN BAR WHERE MY DAD TOOK ME TO DEMONSTRATE WHAT A “GROWN-UP” COLLEGE STUDENT I NOW WAS.

We went in through the garage; no one was home. He pushed me down onto my back on a sofa in the family room, pulled down my pants and forced himself into me. I recall feeling acutely aware of how weak my arms felt, like jelly. I still recall the sensation of utter helplessness. I could not push him off. I recall saying “no” several times. It didn’t matter. He kept going and was done quite quickly; he pulled up his pants and in mute shock, I assembled myself and we got back into the car and went back to the party.

I vaguely recall that the dance came afterthe rape and that I attended it with him despite the rape, because I was trying to maintain the facade that I was so cool and nonchalant about sex that the attack had not upset me.

Over the next several days my mind was preoccupied with only one thought: What would I do if I were pregnant?

My parents were very strict immigrants from Eastern Europe who set a stern curfew, had complete confidence that I would attend a top university and regularly checked for signs that I’d been smoking cigarettes when out with my friends. We had never discussed sex, and I knew that although they were loving and supportive, they would be shocked at the idea that I’d had any sort of sexual relations with a man.

When I got my period, I was incredibly relieved. At the time, I felt pride at my cavalier attitude about the attack once my anxiety about pregnancy was relieved. By that time, I’d consumed a lot of literature from the ’60s, including Portnoy’s Complaint, and thought my sanguine attitude was simply because I was cool and cultured.

MY ATTITUDE AT THE TIME WAS THAT THE “POOR GUY” WAS SO STUPID HE KNEW NOT WHAT HE HAD DONE.

A couple of years later, I encountered my rapist on spring break from college at a hometown bar where my dad took me to demonstrate what a “grown-up” college student I now was. My rapist asked me to dance and I accepted, congratulating myself on my forgiving nature and again, my “cool” attitude about sex. My attitude at the time was that the “poor guy” was so stupid he knew not what he had done. I tend to still believe that.

But my rapist? Well, I found an item in the local police blotter: He’d ended up in jail on a petty theft charge. His bright athletic future never came to fruition. As for me, I went to law school when I was 28 and still never told anyone what happened to me. I worked hard to be published in the school’s law review — my topic was Rape Trauma Syndrome, inspired by an Indiana case in which the jury acquitted the defendant of a rape charge because the plaintiff had shown insufficient trauma.

The jury had been allowed to hear evidence that she’d gone out dancing in the days following the attack. The case outraged me. I knew from experience that it is eminently easy to pretend, even to oneself, that the attack “was nothing.” Yet, I still told no one of the motivation behind my interest in writing on criminal law, a field I did not pursue. To this day, although I mention the article on my résumé, I delete the reference to its title.

So before Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s letter to Dianne Feinstein was revealed to the general public, I’d recently begun telling the story of how I was raped at the age of 16 by a boy in my high school class. I had kept the story a secret from everyone in my life for nearly 40 years, with the exception of the young man I briefly dated as a freshman in college.

I never told my parents; I never told my younger sister, with whom I am still very close; and I never told any of the women with whom I was very close friends in high school and college. I never told any of my current girlfriends, until close to a year after the Harvey Weinstein allegations became public. I still have not told my sister, who knew the perpetrator. I want to shield her from it. I still have not been able to tell of it to a man I have been regularly dating for the past five years.

But I still remember the attack as if it just happened. I remember the sensation of terrible weakness in my arms and that I said “no” many times and was ignored. I remember that there was a pool at the house where the party was held, and that’s where the keg was located. It was a lovely, balmy night, typical of the town where I grew up, and I’m pretty sure the shirt I was wearing was light pink and had frilly cap sleeves.

And I still remember the cul-de-sac on which the rapist lived, and that no one was home, and details of the “rumpus room” where the rape occurred. I’m pretty sure he drove a gray Honda Civic, which was a relatively new model at the time. I remember vividly what he looked like. His name, of course, I will never forget.

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THE GREAT MONDAY IS COMING by KELVIN HUGHES. | GBAMLOG.COM

“Hurry, Hurry, get your stuff together…the Great Monday is coming!”

What is the “Great Monday”?- you ask, as you scurry about to find whatever stuff it is you should take to greet the “Great Monday.”

Well the Great Monday comes on June 3d this year- and as one must do the week before the Great Monday appears – you have a week of preparation. Actually, two weeks, but I didn’t write this until week one was over. So there.

On the Great Monday – I will become bionic. Yep. A brand spanking new hip. All shiny and pain free. I won’t see it- except a few hours before they put it in me- but I am told with great certainty that I will feel the difference immediately. No pain. That is good enough for me.

However the preparations have some difficult parts to them like: will power, sacrifice, self control and dedication. First you have to do just four simple exercises on the floor, and two while seated in a chair. You are supposed to do ten reps of each, twice daily.

First they wanted to see if we could do 20 pushups. Just 20. Form wasn’t judged at all. Just could you lower yourself down to your chest (belly) and back up. Everyone but me had to do a chair pushup. Where they sat in a chair and did pushups with their arms. So I was feeling pretty good about myself. Having done twenty actual pushups, and breezing through twenty chair pushups.

To be fair, everyone was over sixty five years old. The only thing we had in common besides bad hips and knees- was pain. Everyone was in pain. And overweight too. All but two guys who somehow managed to live their whole lives with discipline, self control, and will power. I bet they weren’t even human. One of those guys weighed exactly what he did when he graduated from High School. Six foot one inches tall, and weighs 155 pounds. Thin, but not rail thin.

The other guy was my size, but lighter. LOL He got up to 199 pounds at one point around age fifty three. Since he was only five foot six inches tall- just like me- he decided he didn’t want to weigh two hundred pounds- or anywhere close to it- so he changed his diet dramatically.

Listen to this and weep: He stopped eating sugar in anything. Cereal, tea, cakes, ice cream, soda pop- if it had sugar in it- he doesn’t eat it. And…he didn’t replace sugary drinks with the chemical laden “sugar free” substitutes. He amped up his intake of vegetables, fruits, and legumes. Way up. He still eats meat, but only small portions and only fresh cooked. He hasn’t been to a Fast Food Restaurant in more than twenty years.

He allows himself two kinds of treats: Two table spoons of plain vanilla ice cream on Mon- Weds- Friday. And on Saturday he goes whole hog and allows himself chocolate covered almonds- up to ten of them! Oh, and no beer, wine, or whiskey.

It took him two years to go from 199 pounds- to 135 pounds. And he hasn’t weighed more than 137 pounds since then. His name was Nick. I called him Saint Nick after he told me his story. But neither of those two guys could do twenty push ups on the floor. I was smug.

Except for this simple fact: I weigh 215 pounds. When I did my pushups, my belly was very close to the floor. To make my chest hit…well, I had to squeeze my belly out a bit to the sides so I could reach the floor. Sad.

Then we moved on to another exercise- snow angels without the arms. That is what I call them anyway. You lay on your back on the floor, and then you move one leg out like you were making a snow angel. Just one at a time. And slide your leg, do not lift it. If you have bad hips you are supposed to move it as far as you can- even an inch is good.

Okay, so I don’t have any will power, discipline, or self control- but I do have an ego. I went home and did two sets of ten snow angels. And I moved even my bad hip leg about twenty inches away from the perpendicular. I was stoked. Then I tried to get up. Ouch. For the next few hours my hips let me know how stupid I was to invoke my ego instead of my common sense. I have to skip that exercise for a few days before the Great Monday arrives.

They also recommend no caffeine, no smoking, and no drinking of alcohol. I don’t smoke or drink, but caffeine? I drink two litters of Pepsi in twenty four hours (Hey, don’t sound so shocked- I am not done yet!). I also drink between three and five cups of tea a day. And each cup has three heaping teaspoons of sugar in it too. I know, I know, why aren’t I a diabetic? Or dead. I eat sugared cereals- and add sugar to them. I know most of you are grossed out by now- even I am getting a little nauseous as I read what I write. Yech.

I also make buttered toast and add sugar (with cinnamon) to it. And donuts. I love donuts. I will even eat stale donuts while bemoaning the fact that they are stale. And cake. And chips. And candy bars. Hmmm…as Phil said in Groundhog Day: “I have a problem…I may have a problem.”

So in preparation for the Great Monday, I have to cease sugar, caffeine, and eat dark green leafy vegetables to increase my Iron. That means I need self control, self discipline, will power and some sacrifice. I haven’t used any of those in decades. And I had to ask where the Produce Section was in the grocery store. It isn’t anywhere near the bakery.

I do walk every day, even with my two canes- but that is habit not discipline. Walking – for me- is like breathing and peeing, just something I do without notice. LOL

One week of truly healthy dietary habits, fluid intake, and religious application to the exercises. Can I do it? Part of me knows I have to. Why? Because I want the best possible outcome for this surgery. I want to go for long walks again- without the companionship of pain. But a part of me knows me well enough to know that just not having Pepsi for a week would be a Hero Level Effort on my part.

And I have to wean myself off of caffeine. Going “cold turkey” from the amounts of caffeine I take in can cause massive headaches, or worse. But I have made a start. No tea. None for three days so far. And I have slowed my Pepsi down to a one liter bottle that lasts me two days. Oh, and I didn’t buy any cereal last week- so we are out of that.

Donuts? Don’t ask. I am on a roll. LOL

I do like vegetables and fresh fruit – and I never used salad dressing on my salad. So that was a point for me. I am eating lots of green things- even rabbits and squirrels are looking at me with envy. No fruit juices though, just the fruit. Last time I ate this many apples, cherries, or pumpkins, they were in pies. Pies covered with whip cream, and a scoop of ice cream on the side.

I have also learned about squash. Squashes. There are many kinds of squash, which is kind of like a thin movie star version of pumpkins or gourds. I bought butterscotch squash…only to find out it got that name from its color- not the taste. But it is good though- especially as a cold soup.

I have eaten enough tomatoes to be considered a pasta sauce all on my own. And spinach, kale, and celery. My stools are coming out like rattan patio furniture. I have so much fiber in me now, twice I got accidentally caught by hay bailing machines. I am fairly certain – if I keep this up- I shall become wicker furniture.

No processed food. None. All my favorite Marie Calendar frozen dinners- gone. Replaced by blueberries, strawberries, and peaches. Oh, and mango too. I do add a dollop of whip cream to them though. Okay, a big dollop.

I drink mostly water now. Lots of water. Maybe that is why I am shaped like a sagging water balloon.

The Great Monday is coming. I will be ready.

Smiles, Kevin

Mr Jollof Pictured With Success, The Warri Schoolgirl, Settles Her School Fees

Little success warri girl that has gone viral because of she was sent home due to her unpaid school fees, rant with sharp pidgin in sapele warri
Though Ay Comedian and other nigerians have decide to sponsor the little girl education but Popular comedian was the first to reach the little girl and her mother. They were pictured together having fun.
Her schools fees was already settled by mr jollof and she will be resuming to one of the best school in Sapele next term with all the fees already paid.

BRAVERY ALERT: MAN STANDS UP TO SOLDIER AND FORCES HIM TO PAY 100k

A video has emerged showing how a truck driver was rewarded for his bravery in the face of intimidation by the police and some soldiers after his tyre was shot by a military officer.

The incident reportedly happened on Thursday at the border town between Benue and Nsukka, Enugu.

A soldier had shot the tyre of a petrol tanker because the driver wouldn’t give him bribe.

However, the driver angrily steered his tanker across the road and blocked other road users.

In solidarity, the victim’s friends also drove up with their trailers and blocked the entire road, stopping all movements in or out of Enugu.

The driver then went ahead to demand for N120k for his damaged tyre. Soon, an array of policemen arrived to intimidate him, but he stood his ground.

Eventually, the driver reduced his demand to N100k after so much pleading and the soldier made a bank transfer to him.

Ben Bruce’s Stance on Yorubas Hating Igbos

The lawmaker representing Bayelsa East in the upper chamber of the National Assembly, Senator Ben Murray Bruce has reacted to the call by some Yorubas in Lagos for the Igbo to leave the State.

Following the recently-concluded presidential polls, crisis soon ensued in Lagos as some Yorubas demanded that Igbo traders vacate the state for voting against their preferred candidate.

National Leader of the ruling All Progressives Congress, APC, Bola Ahmed Tinubu has also been accused of having a hand in the segregation against Ndigbo.

In a reaction on Monday, Bruce urged Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from that of the entire Yoruba.He tweeted, “I urge Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from the behaviour of the Yoruba. Look at the results of the Presidential elections.“The Yoruba voted almost 50% for an Igbo VP. The Yoruba don’t hate the Igbos or anybody. No ethnicity is as accommodating as the Yoruba.”

In a reaction on Monday, Bruce urged Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from that of the entire Yoruba.He tweeted, “I urge Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from the behaviour of the Yoruba. Look at the results of the Presidential elections.“The Yoruba voted almost 50% for an Igbo VP. The Yoruba don’t hate the Igbos or anybody. No ethnicity is as accommodating as the Yoruba.”
In a reaction on Monday, Bruce urged Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from that of the entire Yoruba.He tweeted, “I urge Nigerians to separate the behaviour of a few people from the behaviour of the Yoruba. Look at the results of the Presidential elections.“The Yoruba voted almost 50% for an Igbo VP. The Yoruba don’t hate the Igbos or anybody. No ethnicity is as accommodating as the Yoruba.”

THE WEB episode 2

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“Orobo! Where is that elephant? When it is time to work, you won’t find her ooo but when time to eat comes, boom! She’ll appear from nowhere! Titi!” Vanessa shouted from the kitchen.

Titi who had been busy with her homework heard her step mother call her name. She quickly sprang up from the floor, she didn’t want trouble this evening.

“So you want to turn me into a mad dog that will be shouting all over the house abi? Is it now that I called you?” Vanessa shouted as Titi entered the kitchen. Titi stood by the door with her arms folded behind her.
She shook her head.

“How many times have I asked you to stop answering my questions by shaking your head like agama lizard, you this elephant? Is your mouth for decoration? Don’t let me deal with you in this house ooo!” she threatened.

“Sorry ma.” Titi apologized.

“Sorry for yourself! Come and pound this pepper joor! Lazy thing! All you know how to do is eat!” she said and turned to check the food on fire.

Titi bent down and started pounding the pepper. Her mind went to Mr. Kachi.

“He would never treat me like this. He calls me a princess.” She thought as she pounded the pepper.
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Sandra briefed Amaka of all that had happened in her life during the past 16 years they were separated. She told her about her 3 years marriage that was yet to produce a child, she had had four miscarriages. She told the sad tale of how she met her husband after his first wife died. She died barely a year after they got married, she was pregnant when she died. Her husband had refused to go into details about her death. He claimed that he was trying to put his past behind him. During the first year of their marriage, he had been sweet and nice to her but when years passed and the miscarriages increased with no child, he changed. He became something she couldn’t describe.

“Enough of the sad part before you think my life is tragic. I work at a bank as the MD. So, at least, one area of my life seems to be doing well” Sandra said and sipped some juice.

“Wow! It seems my life has not been the only one full of drama.” Amaka said, smiling.

“So, spit it out! Tell me what you’ve been up to all these years!” Sandra said excitedly. It felt good to have a friend again. She had missed having someone to talk to.
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As Kachi entered his car, he thought of where to head to. He didn’t want to go home to see that his barren wife. Just looking at her made him very angry. The barren thing! He drove around for some minutes before making up his mind to visit one of his girlfriends, Quintia. He couldn’t wait for his wife’s leave to end.

“I miss those days that I would only see her at night, but now….” He sighed.

Quintia welcomed him just as he had expected. He had always been lucky with women right from university days.

“I was planning to call you to come today but you came on your own” Quintia said giggling. She was playing with her fingers.

“Hmmm……it looks like somebody missed me a lot. Well, I missed somebody a lot too.” He said pecking her forehead. Quintia withdrew shyly from him. This was one of the things that attracted him to her, she was always shy. He had always had a thing for shy, insecure girls, that’s one of the reasons he couldn’t understand why he ended up getting married to an extrovert. Maybe she charmed him. So, she was not just barren, she is a witch too! Quintia said something that he didn’t quite catch because of his thoughts.

“Please, come again darling. I didn’t hear what you said.” He said, playing with her hair.

“I have news for you.” she said. “I’m not sure if you will like it.” she said timidly.

Kachi felt his body tense.

“News? What is it?” he asked nervously.
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Funmi tried to pull her mother from Deji. Shebi she warned him to go home but he refused, now see how her mother was embarrassing both of them on the street. She grabbed one of her Iya Funmi’s hands, Iya Funmi used her free hand to give her a backhand slap. Funmi fell to the floor and refused to get up. Wooooo! Let Deji face his wahala alone! She cannot suffer for what she warned him about.

Iya Funmi dragged Deji’s cloth as she jumped and down. Deji kept begging her as tried to free himself from her grip. He yanked her left hand off his cloth. Iya Funmi screamed louder, putting her free hand on her head.

“Egbami oo! (Help me oo!) Deji wants to beat me oo! Deji wants to kill me oo!” she screamed, holding her head in a dramatic fashion. People started gathering around. Deji felt like crying. Who sent him to woo Iya Funmi’s daughter? Which of his village people did this evil to him?

“Oya beat me….beat me!” she screamed and held him tighter.

Written by Chioma Emmanuel

Anticipate episode 3!!

#INKspiration
#ChiomaINKspires
#SickleCellAwareness
#ChildAbuseAwareness
#ASequelToExpensiveJoke

Next episode will be published Next Week Thursday stay tuned.