Category Archives: Writings

Fate of the Curious by Chiedozie Ude.

‘Curiosity, they say kills the cat’. I have often taken that statement for granted until I allowed dear Mr. Experience to teach me an unforgettable lesson.

I was in a new school and because I resumed late, I had a plethora of notes to copy, legions of them. Concentrating on my task which was writing and eating ‘guguru ati epa’ (groundnut and popcorn) without a care in the world, I ignored most of the activities going on around me, in fact I was oblivious to my environment.

One fateful afternoon, we were having everyone’s favorite subject which was ‘free period’, and the whole class relished every minute of it.

As the norm was, is and would be, free periods are periods when students show their unintellectual traits— that is, a time for the display of chronic madness. Yours truly was busy trying to update his literature note when the hullabaloo started. Screams! Grunts! Moans!, tables falling and people cheering. ‘What the hell was going on?’ I asked myself. ‘Concentrate on updating your notes,’ a still voice said.

I tried to shut my ears to the cacophony which had become more raucous and vociferous. From the little I could decipher from the madness which was threatening to bring down the whole school, two gals were fighting (names withheld because it is a matter of national security) and which for analytical purposes, I’ll call X and Y. Whatever was the cause of the fight, I still do not know, but from the ecstatic cheers the boys were giving, it must have been a wonderful opportunity for many of them to feel the fighting ladies ‘uhhhm’ fleshy characteristics (forget my euphemism, you know what I mean ‘lol’).

I was not watching, but slowly, my excitement was climaxing, I had to satisfy my eyes by watching the belligerents live. The still voice came again, warning me to ignore whatever was going on, but I ignored it. After all, I just wanted to feed my eyes for a minutes. So, I abandoned my books, after all, there would be time to update them later. I began squabbling with members of the crowd so as to get an ‘HD’ view of the proceedings. I got my reward because I stumbled to the front….

All of a sudden, everything went black in my left eye, I could not see and I felt a burning pain there. Oh my gosh! ‘What just happened?’
One of the fighting gals decided it was time to turn the tables on her adversary by stoning her, and fortunately for her opponent and unfortunately for yours truly, she missed and the stone hit my left eye point blank. That ended the fight because I heard someone screaming pitifully and it took me a while to realise that I was the person.

I stayed at home for the next two days due to the blinding pain

I learnt a big lesson that day, learn to curb your curiosity

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HORROR TRAGEDY: HOW A FLIGHT TO VEGAS ENDED MY RELATIONSHIP by Toni Payne

You won’t believe how a flight to Vegas ended my relationship. I had been dating a guy named William for about one year. Things were going great between us and I had no cause for concern. Well, that is until he did something so thoughtless, I had to end the relationship.

I work as a financial consultant and although I travel a lot, my job is quite flexible. He worked as a fitness trainer so his job was also quite flexible. When we started dating, I felt the flexibility of our careers was a good sign because we could spend more time together.

Severally, I would invite him on trips with me, most especially when I knew I would be gone for a week or more. He turned me down all the time with the excuse that he had a fear of flying. I even went as far as trying to get him to enroll in a “defeat your fears” simulated flight program, which he blatantly refused.

I decided to overlook things, after all, there were other communication options while I was away. We kept in touch whenever I travelled, in fact he was very attentive so I did not see what was coming.

During one of my business trips, our flight got delayed and because I was in a hurry, I decided to change flights and take a connecting flight through another airport. This would have saved me two hours and given me enough time to get home to prepare for my meeting the next day.

As my flight landed, I glanced down at my watch and realized I was running late and may just miss my connecting flight from Dallas to Vegas. I hurried off the plane and proceeded to the next gate, hand luggage in one hand, laptop bag in another.

A few moments later, I heard my name announced through the airport loud speaker. I ran as fast as I could and although I was the last to board, I was glad I made it. I could feel the sweat build up on my brows as I pushed my way through the airplane aisles trying to locate my seat.
As I gradually made my way down the first ten or so rows, you will not believe what I saw!

There he was, sitting there, nuzzling the passenger next to him. Yes, you guessed it right, my boyfriend of one year, who did not like to fly, was flying to Vegas with another lady and he was so smitten by her that he did not see me stroll by.

Patience Rocks!

I was absolutely livid! I could feel the heat intensifying in my stomach as I contemplated causing a scene. It took a lot of self-control but I decided it was best to stay calm. Quietly, I walked to my seat where I fortunately, had a good view of him and his lady friend. This was where being patient played a good role.

I watched as they interacted with each other, partly because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t jumping to conclusions. From where I was seated I got a good view of them kissing, I even watched as they took a short nap with her head on his shoulder.
As I watched all this happen, I took several pictures on my phone as evidence. Although the pictures were not so great, there was no way he could have denied it was him.

I never knew I had that much self-restraint but somehow, I made it through the flight without going up to them. When we landed, I waited for them to get got off the plane first. I purposely stayed back so that I would not run into them.

Later that day, while sitting at my computer with a glass of wine in one hand, I sent him a text message saying it was over. I attached the pictured from the airplane. Although he tried to call me several times that night, I did not pick his calls. It has been a couple of years now, and I have not spoken to William since then. After all, good riddance to bad rubbish, right?

FAMILY TRAGEDY SERIES: JOURNEY OF HELL by Geethi Karsharma | GBAMLOG.COM

She never gave a thought of marrying a handsome guy but she wished to marry a person who understands and respects her.

I’m here to narrate a story of a women who is a victim of violence. Are parents itself enemies to a women?

A poor parents gave birth to 9 children. Now,our story revolves around the 5th person. During her childhood she was not that pampered, only because of her looks. She was given less importance among the 9 children. She was sent to a government school where others to private. Her father thought that investing on her would not bring any profit. Her mom was also not that caring.

She was graduated with a B.com degree, still she wasn’t happy because no one was there to appreciate her success. She spent a lot sleepless nights and filled with depression. Later on when she was at the age of 21, she wanted to marry a person who understands her. According to her faith, she has to face problems because of her husband too.

She got married on 22-03-2018 and it is a dark day for her. Her parents were in search of selecting a groom for her as soon as she was graduated. She never gave a thought of marrying a handsome guy but she wished to marry a person who understands and respects her.

During her matchmaking process, her father got a call by the priest. Then her father immediately went to groom’s house for a matchmaking interview. Groom’s mother told her father about the affair of her son that he married other caste girl without their acceptance and now they wanted their son to get married to their caste girl. That cruel father didn’t even think about future of his daughter and immediately agreed to their proposal and he didn’t reveal about groom’s affair to anyone.

She was very happy and thought that she is marrying a person of her dreams but, she never thought that the dreams would fade out one day. Naturally after marriage she got to know about her husband , she immediately went to her parents and questioned them but there was no response. She alone faced all the problems in her life. She was beaten brutally by that drunkard husband. Now she sacrificed her life and adjusting for her children

Over thousands of women are facing this problem around the world.In India, government introduced many schemes for the welfare of women but there is no use. It depends on the mindsets of the people.Is there no solution for this problem? Yes, there is a solution. The best way to stop this violence is to raise your voice against the people who are troubling you,never adjust for each and everything, fight back.

“Before telling your daughter not to go out alone,Tell your son not to harass any women.”

Religious Extremism: Islam Is A Religion Of Love by Chiedozie Ude

Chapter one

Abdul Dan-Ali was a devout muslim who had sworn to do whatever his religion dictated. He, alongside the Al-Khan Muslim Brotherhood, was determined to stop the westernisation of Kano State, and Nigeria in general. The last man to really tackle the immorality brought by the west and other religions into the region was the great Usman Dan-Fodio, the man who led the great Jihad in Northern Nigeria. ‘Those were the days,’ mused Abdul Dan-Ali, as he scratched the little rashes hiding underneath his full beards with his left hand while adjusting the locally woven mat he was seated on with his right hand, trapping a beetle crawling on the mat in the process.

Abdul Dan-Ali was quite sure that he saw the likeness of Usman Dan-Fodio whenever he looked at the man in the mirror. He was certain that Usman Dan-Fodio must have been as handsome and smart as he is. He smiled, as he allowed himself few minutes of vanity. He liked to think that if he were like the infidels, he would have had as much girlfriends as he wanted.

He was sure that he would be the man to instigate an Islamic revival in Nigeria, if death was the price to be paid, Abdul was willing to pay because the preaching of Imam Sodiq Mustapha, the cleric of the Al-Khan Muslim Brotherhood, on the benefits of dying for the cause sounded too right to be wrong. According to Imam Sodiq, ‘infidels have to be killed because they pollute the environment with their presence,’ and Abdul Dan-Ali was ready to answer the clarion call.

‘The infidels are not only those who do not worship the Almighty Allah but also those muslims who are hypocritical about the ways of Islam,’ Abdul Dan-Ali recalled, for this very words were spoken by the holy cleric Sodiq Mustapha.
Abdul Dan-Ali agreed wholeheartedly with the cleric, he believed that faltering muslims were bad eggs, and they should never be allowed in the midst of the real muslims.

Despite his conviction of the worthiness of the cause, Abdul could not help having his doubts about Imam Sodiq. The cleric was a charismatic leader, but sometimes, he made rash decisions. His latest decision was to send a message to Nigerians, to make them know that the Al-Khan Brotherhood was for real. He needed a sacrificial lamb for the suicide attack he was concocting. This attack would shake Nigeria to its core. The cleric had bestowed the honour of being the sacrificial lamb on Abdul Dan-Ali, and he felt the great fear of a looming death overwhelm him. He felt a bit cheated at first. ‘Why must it be me?’ He wondered, as he gazed into eyes of other members of the brotherhood, wondering if they felt relief or disappointment at not being chosen. He was sure that he saw Suleiman Bala, the newest member smile in relief. ‘The bloody coward!’

He wanted to question the cleric’s choice, but then, he remembered that dying for his faith was a huge privilege, and he was indeed lucky to have been chosen to carry out this holy task. He grew red with shame for ever having doubts about the whole thing, for after all, he had more than half a dozen virgins awaiting him in paradise. He allowed himself think of all the fun he would have with them, he would hit them hard just like he and his cronies did to every girl who was captured by them. It was so pleasurable to hear their screams of pain mingled with the moans of pleasure the girls always tried to mask. As usual, they would beg their rapists to stop, but yet, they were always very wet in their thighs, and most times, they moved to match their rapists’ thrusts. Abdul Dan-Ali was certain that they enjoyed being raped because most of them experienced powerful orgasms, and their wet thighs was the only proof he needed. Thinking of this made him quite hard as he made up his mind to handle Sarah, one of the girls captured by the brotherhood before nightfall. That same infidel who refused to renounce her christian faith.

Above raping the infidel girls, he enjoyed slitting their throats with his rusty old dagger, just like the way the decadent Christians do to their chickens every Christmas.’The slower their deaths, the better,’ he thought, as he tried to withhold the maniac like laughter that was threatening to emit from his throat.

He squashed the beetle slowly and smiled with insane pleasure as it danced the dance of death. It was time to make the infidels suffer. It was time to make Kano burn.

Watch out for chapter two!!!

Mystery Classics: NIGHTMARES by Saul Greenblatt

George Downs stood bent slightly forward in front of an officer. “You’re supposed to stand at attention, soldier, not tilted forward.”

“I have arthritis, sir, and it prevents me from standing up straight.”

“Likely excuse.”

“Sir, I’m eighty one years old. Why am I still in the Army?”

“We need all the able fighting men we can get, soldier, – so you will not be discharged from the Army.”

“This is crazy. I was discharged from the army almost sixty years ago. How could I possibly be standing here in an Army uniform. I must be dreaming. I must be having a nightmare,” he said and slapped himself in his face several times.  “What’s going on? I’m still here. I should be in my bed waking up  from this nightmare, but I’m not.”

“You will be sent to an infantry outfit where you will train for the next war.”

You don’t want someone as old as I am. I couldn’t endure the physical training.”

“We’ve dealt with soldiers like you before. We’ll make sure you endure the physical training if it takes five years.”

“Five years? I’ll probably be dead between now and five years from now.”

“The new Army doesn’t allow death unless death happens in combat.”

“No, no, no. This isn’t happening,” he yelled and sat up in his bed after being shaken by his wife. “George, you were having a bad dream. Are you okay?”

“Oh, it was terrible, Mary. I dreamt I was back in the Army, and they were going to send me to an infantry outfit. It was so real. I told them that I was eighty one, but it didn’t matter. The officer said I was going to be trained for the next war. Mary, it was terrible.”

“You go back to sleep, dear. Think about your great grandson, and you’ll have pleasant dreams.”

The next night was a repeat of the night before.  George was sleeping in a barracks, and a sergeant entered the barracks at 4:00 and screamed. “Okay, scum, everybody up. After breakfast we’re going on a nice twenty-mile march,” he yelled. “We have to be combat ready.” Then he went to George’s bunk, which was a top bunk. “What are you still doing in the sack, private,” he yelled.

George opened his eyes and looked around. “What am I doing here, and how did I get in this top bunk?”

“You’d better get moving, private, or you’ll  miss breakfast. You won’t  like to go on a twenty-mile  hike on an empty stomach. You can’t fight a war on an empty stomach.”

“Twenty-mile hike? Are you crazy? I can barely walk twenty feet.  Jesus, I’m eighty one. Look at me. Do I look like a kid?”

“Do you want special treatment because your eighty one? Ha. You’re in the Army. Age doesn’t get you special treatment, now get out of the sack,” he yelled.

“I don’t know how I got in this top bunk, and I’m damn sure I’m not going to be able to get out of it.”

“I’ll show you how,” the sergeant said and grabbed George and lifted him out of the bunk and put him on the floor. “Now get your walker, get dressed and get to the mess hall.”

“My walker? How did my walker get in my night mare? Why am I having this night mare?” he complained and looked around at all the young soldiers cleaning their rifles. “Why are you cleaning your rifle?” he asked a private.

“They keep telling us we gotta be ready for the next war, old man.”

“I’ve been watching too much news.”

The sergeant entered the barracks and screamed at George. “Why aren’t you cleaning your rifle? Why? Why?”

“George, wake up. You’re having another night mare,” Mary said and shook George, who sat up.

“It was like the night mare I had last night. I thought I stopped dreaming Army dreams years ago. For twenty years after I got out of the Army, I dreamed that the Army wouldn’t let me out. I don’t understand why they’re starting again. They don’t care that I’m eighty one. One more night mare like these and I’m going to see a shrink.

The next night, he was holding his walker as he walked in a field.  Where am I? Why are bombs falling? Who are those people running toward me? They’re shooting at me. I can’t get away, they’re shooting and…oh, my God, my stomach. They shot me in my stomach. I’m falling. I can’t move. Now, everything is black. I’m dead.”

Mary woke up in the middle of the night and reached over to touch George and felt wet. She jumped up and looked at George, who was bleeding from his stomach. “George,” she yelled and fainted.

Foreseeing the Future: Diary of a Pure Evil Demon: By Chiedozie Ude.

*Taekwondo Trainee*

Being a tall dude has a lot of perks. It is often expected of tall guys to have their way; they are automatically expected to be physically strong and imposing; they are seen as the most suitable for leadership positions; and the climatic point of it all is that they have the first pick when it comes to dating girls. As a result of these perks, it is not uncommon for those who stopped growing quick to look at taller people with envy. Well, I am not writing this to sing the praises of tall guys, rather, I intend using this write-up to discuss a particular problem faced by tall guys all over the world. This problem is called “OVERCONFIDENCE!!!”

Taking a journey down the Memory Lane to a day I will never forget even if I live for a thousand years on earth. I was a six-year-old primary two kid in a new school. The only thing I loved about the school was its playground. The playground was a child’s paradise. It had a lot of toys; swings— or “Jangulova” as we called them back then; and a plethora of other fun facilities which made my school the object of envy of other schools. Books were like banned drugs to me, and being a lover of social justice, I vehemently said a big “NO!” to books, imitating the popular slogan “Say No To Drugs.”

As an ardent hater of classroom learning, I found solace in the playground and other extra curricular activities such as the violent sport called “TAEKWONDO”. I still recall the way we punched the air and screamed “TAEKWONDO” whenever our master requested us to do so. Now, I was taller than my mates, and could easily trounce most of them in a fair fight. But this turned out to be my Achilles heel because I became a cocky six-year-old asshole. I felt that height was the definition of “macholiness”, but I was in for a rude awakening.

Our Taekwondo master was not a regular teacher in the school, hence, he did not know the different classes which the members of his club belonged. As a result of his ignorance, sparring partners were selected based on size and not class. I was in the category reserved for the big boys because of my height. I was chuffed. As a lover of violence, I always volunteered myself for every sparring contest, especially when I was taller than my opponent. A silly thing to do huh?

One fateful Wednesday, during sport period, the master brought out a very short and pale looking boy in primary four. I still remember his accursed name “Tunde”. He had legs like those of a malnourished goat, and his face like a squashed mango fruit. His knuckles were so tiny that I felt they would break into a trillion pieces if he managed to punch my healthy skin. I even remember calling him a small boy when he once entered my class. I was pretty certain that I would beat the living daylights out of him to the extent that he would need an ambulance. With these thoughts in mind, I quickly offered to challenge him, and in fact, I jumped into the fighting circle, smiling foolishly. I was about to commit murder!

Few seconds into the fight, I was already taking a pummeling because Tunde was giving me the beating of my life. He must have remembered the time I called him a small boy because he was hitting me with so much anger and malice— “Malevolent cunt!” I was pretty certain that I was not the person screaming “Please leave me!” Well, to cut the long story short, Tunde gave me my first black eye. Funnily enough, all these happened in less than a minute — that is, the longest less-than-a-minute of my six years of existence. The master sent me to the sick bay for treatment, but I only discovered that I wore my right shoe on my left leg when I got home.

In conclusion, never overrate your height.

WORDS OF A FORMER CHAUVINIST: BY CHIEDOZIE UDE.

I recently went through Chimamanda’s article on feminism and truth be told, I was convinced that it is an ideology worth practising, howbeit with a few exceptions and disagreements to certain things about it, such as the desire to completely change things as they are, and of course, the name itself which I feel does not do justice to the human race in the larger picture. In my opinion, which I know is shared by many, the rightful term for ‘Feminism’ should be ‘Egalitarianism’ which simply means ‘equality of all races, religions and sexes.’

Many may argue that every good campaign or ideology has a title which invigorates the emotions of the followers, thereby building in them an unflinching and diehard feeling of ‘No Retreat No Surrender Until Our Grievances Are Met.’ But the title ‘Feminism’ as I said earlier is not one that can bring up these feelings in many an Individual, most especially the men, due to the fact that it sounds too feminine and also because to many, it only covers the rights of women and their whims (which is actually not true).

Despite the fact that I know what feminism is all about, it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth whenever the realization of what it has turned out to be in a world already hanging precariously on a line as a result of segregation. Feminism is meant to unite us all, instead of being an object of division and ridicule (It is not uncommon for people to scoff when you mention the word ‘feminism’) and political imbroglio just like other ideologies such as ‘Negritude’, ‘Zionism’ and ‘Nazism’ (I am really sorry for including Nazism due to the world’s history with the dreaded Adolf Hitler because feminism has never been as brutal but I hope you get my point.). This is because what most women call feminism is simply radicalism or a thin line from it. In this part of the world, violence by a woman on a man is usually branded as feminism; a woman neglecting her instinctive duties as a mother is also addressed as feminism or some may say ‘Women Revolution’. You will hear things like ‘After all, men have always been doing it’. But like I always say, ‘Violence is violence, evil is evil no matter the perpetrator.’

Just like negritude, feminism should not be about a particular set of people, it should be about humanity in general and the respect for people’s rights as individuals. Despite the fact that we are likely not going to get a name change to this ideology, I still agree with Chimamanda when she said ‘we should all be feminists’ because truly, the women have been marginalized by various nefarious laws from countless ages ago, and also, the status quo which we all met that automatically places a man ahead of a woman, irrespective of their qualifications. Laws that brand females as weaker vessels were probably once useful in the days when brute strength was needed for survival— that is, in the stone ages. But in this generation, these laws are quite useless because the trait needed for survival is simply smartness, and this trait is not exclusively reserved for any gender. Leadership positions and employment opportunities should be acquired by merit and not by gender, age or race.

All these changes we expect cannot happen in a twinkling of an eye because it is a gradual process and must be practiced systematically. This is because a die hard African man or male chauvinist will surely take an exception to a radical change in the status quo— that is, the belief of male superiority over females. The first step to ensure this idea is bought by the majority is through ‘home training’. Boy should be taught from a tender age that girls are not toys. I know a man (I am not going to mention his name so I will call him Mr X) who has four children: two girls and two boys. The sons of Mr X are allowed to keep girlfriends and do absolutely what ever they like while his daughters are literally imprisoned by him all in the name of protecting them. This experience made me ponder a lot of things ‘Why was this man teaching his sons not to respect girls in the name of training them to be independent young men?’ ‘Who was he protecting his daughters from? Men like his sons?’ ‘Who is protecting the girls being used like hand rags by his sons?’ Sadly, most parents are guilty of this, and that is why we have boys who grow up into ‘wife beaters’ because the idea of superiority over women has been implanted in them.

Girls also should be taught never to be dependent on boys for anything— most especially money— because naturally, the person who pays the bills also calls the shots when it comes to decision making. While many a lady is out there trying to get what they deserve and also trying to implement the doctrine of equality to the world, we still have ladies posting on social media, supporting the idea but still expecting the man to shoulder all the financial burdens in the relationship. This is the highest form of unseriousness— or should I say HYPOCRISY? Therefore, it is the duty of every parent to teach their children respect for every gender by setting a good example for the children to follow.

Another problem facing feminism in Nigeria is called ‘BRIDE PRICE!’ While I agree with the notion that every man should pay a certain amount of money to the bride’s family as a sign of respect and regard for them, and perhaps, our culture. It should not be seen as an opportunity to literally rip the man off. We see a lot a families collecting huge amount of goods and cash from the groom, and this automatically places the woman under his control, and in most cases, she will live the rest of her life trying to always please her man at the expense of her goals in life. How will women be regarded if the practice of literally selling them off continues? It is high time we stopped auctioning our ladies to the highest bidders because a buyer can use his goods the way he wants.

Feminism is surely going to be much more effective in our part of the world if certain things are phased out. These things include: the extra bit of affection awarded to male children over their female siblings; the unnecessary rigours men go through to marry in the name of bride price; and not forgetting, the existing state of affairs which brand it as the responsibility of every man to single-handedly pay the bills in every relationship. In conclusion, everyone should be a feminist.