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Words of a Father


It’s my birthday today. First of all, no I’m not 35, I’m forever 21. That’s all you need to know.

It’s been really cool so far. Texts, calls, tweets, all that stuff. Work has me tied down, but hey… such is life.

Someone called me, and asked if I’d gotten any gifts. I said “No, I’m used to not really getting anything.” which is true, more or less.

But I realized, on the 9th of November, 2012, I got the best present I could ever have asked for. And I’m going to share it.

I started writing this letter about 5 weeks ago… it seemed pretty right that I finish it on my birthday.


*Written while listening to Ed Sheeran’s “Small Bump”*

I know the first words you ever hear me say may be muddled with tears as a result of the emotional rush I feel when I first hold you in the hands that type these words so, the first thing I’m going to ever do for you is to translate them:

I love you.

You’re more a fragment of my soul than the biblical bone taken from my ribs. The physical can’t even begin to match up to the miracle that went into bringing you into existence and every day I see you for the rest of my life, I’ll be reminded that contributing to your being is the greatest thing I’ve ever done.

I’m sorry.

I know that by the time you’re old enough to read this, you’ll have realized that this place we’ve brought you to is hard. You’ll have thought to yourself how things would have been even more glorious if I’d left you where you were; you’ll have gone through a lot of things that may get you down, may make you cry, and may make you feel like questioning God and asking him why.

But you’re a warrior.

From a long line of people with strong souls, the very first thing you did was swim to be the first among a billion, and you’ve been winning ever since. So I know that even when things get hard, you’ll always be able to get to the top of it. With my strength and your mother’s intelligence (I’m intelligent too sha), you’re a formula for fantabulous that finally balanced as your voice was heard in the four corners of the hospital room.

I love you.

You’re my reason for being. Man was created and instructed by God to replenish the earth. You’re the culmination of my obeying God’s commandment; a beautiful being born of Technicolor dreams and a pastel of prayer, painting you the dark brown shade of earth’s vitality, and filled with a fresh breath of hope.

You’re everything I’ve hoped for.

Don’t be fooled, I didn’t hope for you this soon, and the journey to your birth was anything but easy, but you came at the right time. You’ve brought a rhyme to this unbalanced mind that had been going astray; you saved me. You gave me a reason to wake up every day and be the best man possible. Being your father is the best job I’ll ever be fortunate enough to have (though, I’ll have to get a side job… you know we gotta eat, right?), and for this I’m doubly glad.

But I’m not perfect.

I apologize for the days when I’ll frustrate you. For the days when you’ll be able to taste the grit of anger as you grind your teeth at something I’ve done or a decision I’ve made. For the days when I won’t be able to make you smile and stop you from being sad, for the days I say the wrong thing when you make me mad, and for the men out there who may one day treat you bad. Even though it was never meant to be unkind, I myself have led many a woman on terrible dance of the heart and the chance that karma will be kind to me may be more than I can ever hope for. I just hope you have the strength to cope and never get bitter when that boy breaks the most beautiful part of you. Understand that life is often unfair and good people get hurt, but believe that it won’t hurt forever, and one day you’ll find a man worthy of your love, and strong enough to take away the marks my wrongs have made in your life.

I’m sorry for the days I’m not there to help you be strong.

You may call out to me one day and I’ll be too far to help in time. You may feel like I wasn’t there when you needed me, but just hold out your hand, and I promise you I’ll take it. I may have to swim across the seas to be with you, but I’ll show up. There may be days when you feel alone, but remember that you are always loved. Remember that even on the days when you feel lost, I will always find you. And on the days when you start to forget that I do what I do for you out of love, I’ll be there to always remind you.

I love you, and I pray for you.

You’re the most amazing thing about me; the Joy of my crown, my Hope and my Life, my fresh breath of clear air on a beautiful night. You’re the reason I can go to sleep with a smile, knowing that my sun rises and sets in your eyes. I pray that God gives you the strength to put up with me. That you grow up to be exactly what you want to be. I pray you get your mother’s beautiful smile and a female version of my hearty laugh. I pray I can make you laugh.

I pray you love me.

I may not turn out to be the best father ever, but I’ll love you with all my heart and soul. I pray you realize that bringing you joy is for me, a means of enjoying eternity. I pray you get your mother’s love for dancing, and as you smile for me when your feet conquer the concrete, you realize that you make me proud in every way possible. Even now I smile, ‘cos you may still be a small bump on your mum’s belly, but the thought of bumping fists with the flat belly kid you’re sure to be fill me with glee. I pray you love books. You’ll learn more flipping through pages set on your knees than you ever will sitting at my feet, but there’ll always be room for you here. I pray you get your grandfather’s will & resilience; I hope you get both your grandmothers’ strength of soul and your great-grandmother’s good nature. I pray that you get your parents voices; that you get to experience the joy of opening the doors of your heart and letting your spirit make a pathway through your lungs. I pray that you find expression through your fingers. I pray you find yourself early in life.

I’m afraid.

I fear that I won’t make a good father. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and I worry that I may once day find myself there for not doing well by you. I fear that like me, you may find it hard to have faith in humanity. That you may get disillusioned by human nature and become too tired to be any less than cynical, but still have enough respect for God to be more than just a little decent. I fear that you may grow to be arrogant like me. I fear that my actions may be the reason you someday grow up to be dysfunctional. That your heart may not be stable enough to handle a true relationship because of my wrongs and you grow up with needs that only I could fill, looking in the wrong places and making the wrong decisions from a bad viewpoint that will always bring you pain.

They say true love conquers all fear, so I’ll love you with reckless abandon and be a father you can count on.

If you can, love me back.

Live life to the fullest. Learn to love yourself more than any other person can love you. Work to be the best at everything you do. Remember at all times; be epic, or go home. Give respect and watch it be returned. Be kind whenever you get the chance, be peaceful whenever possible. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you. Have faith in other people but be ready for the possibility that they’ll screw up. Try to love God as much as He loves you (it’s not possible, but try).

My life didn’t really make sense till you came into it. I never really knew my name until I gave it to you.

By the time you’re old enough to read this, you may be wondering why we didn’t just leave you in Heaven to prance around and dance with the stars, but I guess life loved me enough to let you come out here and be the one that makes my feet tap. And for this, I’ll be everything you need me to be; your warrior, your teacher, your provider, your friend, your valentine (until you find a newer model to replace me), and most importantly, your father.

I probably have a lot more to say to you than this, but I’ll spend the lifetime I have with you telling you everything.

Welcome to the world, Nadine Ademilayo “BabyBear” Fatona.




Your Da is proud of you; before you were born, now, and forever.

>The Morning’s Musings: No Halfways Allowed

7:00 AM

*Playing on repeat* Push It To The Limit – Rick Ross

Hey there. So if you’ve been following my blog for a bit, or curiosity made you read every post like some people I know *SideEye*, you’ll have noticed that I haven’t done any Morning Musing for a while. But I guess today my brain kicked in early again.

So for a few years, I’ve watched myself slowly get outta shape. All the training that Capoeira rigorously beat into me slowly bled out. Till the point where I was going from being the CapoeiraPanda, to just being a fat, lazy, Panda.

But in the last few weeks, a little awakening, among other incentives, made me start working out again. But I’m taking it slow. Working on jogging alone. Along with other fat burning workouts.

And since I started, I’ve been observing myself. Days when I go and go, I get better. And when I quit, and lag for a lil bit, I don’t just get worse, it’s even harder to get back to the level I thought I had gotten to.

Even when I’m running. I’ve realized that it’s better, to keep running. Keep pushing that stressful pace, than to slow down to “rest a little”. Because even if, like me, your rest means a slow trot, and not necessarily stopping, gearing back up into running again will be difficult, and really stressful on your body.

Here’s what I’ve learned from that.

I think, the very fact that our bodies complain when we do that, even though we’re making the excuse that it’s actually for the sake of our bodies, shows that we’re not meant to push halfways. The point of working yourself to be better, is to go all the way at it. Make sure that in every thing you do, the effort is 100%.

And I know it gets hard. Nothing in life is ever easy. My latest slogan is “Weakness Compels Strength”. (Adapted from Raizo’s sensei in Ninja Assassin)

For me, it says that it’s ok to be weak. And if you work at it, from that weakness can emerge strength that’d amaze even you. So keep at it. The weakness in you will call strength forth.

But its all or nothing.

Don’t stop till you hit the end. Push till you can’t push anymore. Then push some more. I know that’s what I’m gonna do.

Like the opening song of the Boondocks says: “I’m a remain a soldier till the war is won.”

Have a good day peoples.

P.S. I’m thinking of moving this blog to WordPress. It looks a bit better to work with than Blogger. I’d appreciate opinions. Thanks.

Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>All Women Are ****, All Men Are ****

“All women are sluts.”

“All men are dogs”

“Women can fake an orgasm, guys can fake a whole relationship”

“Men tell the most lies. Women tell the worst lies.”

“All a woman is interested in is money.”

“All a man is interested in is pussy.”

I think I’m finally sick & tired of all the finger pointing across the genders.

All my life, I’ve heard guys and girls say these things. And it’s always been a tough pill for me to swallow.

If every guy is only about tapping that, then why do people get married? How do they tie the guy down?

If every woman is just about money, then why are there good women out there who support their men. Women who hold it down and earn respect from everyone?

I’ve come to the point where I really don’t understand it anymore. I know a girl who actually had a very good man, and still allowed stupidity to leak out of her head & say “all men are dogs.” What was even funnier about it was that her boyfriend heard her say it. I could see that it hurt him, but he just kept quiet. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when I heard that the dude had dumped her a few weeks later.

When that happened, the silly child was then attributing her loss to the “evil nature of men”. Refusing to understand that it was her losing attitude that made her lose a good thing. It was just easier to sit over a tub of ice cream with her ridiculous friends and bash at every living male creature.

Guys do it as well. Going around with that “women just want money” attitude. You treat a woman like she can be bought, & she’ll either behave that way, or she’ll leave you cos your money isn’t important to her.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m in no way naive.

I know some people have had bad experiences. I know some people have lost out & ended up with their hearts broken in multiple places. Till the point where they’d prefer a broken neck to another broken heart (Amir Sulaiman).

I’m not saying that the bad ones aren’t out there. Believe me, I’ve seen my fair share of assholes.

I have a very good friend that has already said he’s still gonna be sleeping about when he’s married (the fact that he’s my friend, doesn’t make this attitude any less disgusting to me).

I’ve seen a girl walk out of her hostel, while telling her boyfriend on the phone how she can’t come out cos she’s got cramps, and come kiss (and later go home with) my friend who she’d just met that morning.

I know there are plenty messed up people.

But is everyone like that?

Should we make the entire populace of humanity suffer for the evil of some people, even though they may be in the majority?

And what’s even more irritating, is when the person talking isn’t clean themselves. Like when a girl that cheats on her boyfriend opens her mouth & says “all men cheat.” Of course they do. With people like you.

By nature, I’m usually quite pessimistic. But I’ve learned that keeping this attitude never helps.

Yes, there are many messed up men and women out there. But approaching life with a defense mechanism ensures that not only do the bad people get locked out, but so do the good. 

It’s a really bad thing when you’ve gotten so used to losing, that you give up all hope of ever winning.

A few years ago, I wrote a note on Facebook asking who started this whole chain of distrust among men & women. But now, I’ve come to realize that asking ourselves “whodunit” is really just a considerable waste of energy. So is judging everyone based on what someone else has done to you, or even worse, judging based on the experience of others.

We need to remember that to every rule there is an exception. Not every guy is a dog, and not every woman is a money grubbing slut. And constantly saying to yourself that all men are dogs, will eventually result in your life resembling a kernel. And living with the belief that all women are sluts will result in your life resembling a brothel.

I remember in “Why Did I Get Married?”, when whatshisface told whatsherface: “you’re so used to losing, you don’t even realize you’ve won.” Well, that’s how I feel about all this.

Laide put up a post recently, called “What She’s Thinking, What He’s Thinking.” It kinda painted guys in a really bad light. I took it P, and I was gonna write a response called “What He’s Thinking, What She’s Thinking.”, to show that there was a flip side to the coin. But half way through, I realized that all I was doing was pointing fingers. And that really wasn’t the point that I should’ve been looking at.

I guess that is where everything boils down to. There are a lot of assholes (male and female) in the world at large. But living your life thinking everybody’s like that, will only have you consistently getting what you expect.

I don’t expect you to accept every Tom, Jane & Kafayat without at least a pinch of salt, but try to keep in mind that there’s still some good people left in the world, and don’t chase them away or hurt them by poking your finger in their eye as you point out the evil nature of men/women. Or you’ll lose out. We’ll all lose out on the good we could win. Then what’ll we be? Just a bunch of bitter men and women that’ll pass on this doctrine of stupidity to out kids?

I most definitely hope not.

Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>Where Loyalties Lie.

Good morning peoples. Hope y’all had a good weekend. Last few days of the first quarter of the year. Hope you’ve achieved your goals so far.

But that ain’t what this is about.


On Saturday, a friend of mine im’d me, crying S. O. S. Another guy was on her case, claiming love from the moon, asking her out…. all that stuff. Dude was even being all possessive self. Over babe that have not even agree for him. Was quite a funny situation. But from the way she put it out to me, it seemed like the dude was really feeling her. But knowing that with all human beings, things aren’t always the way they seem, she wanted my advice about him. Apparently, he was someone I knew.

Here’s a snippet of the conversation:

Panda: “What’s the dude’s name?”

Friend: “He says his name is John Thomas.” /*obviously, his name isn’t John Thomas*\

Panda: “Babe, stay away from that dude.”

Friend: “But why? What’s the matter?”

Panda: “I know that dude very well, and you’re too important to me not to warn you away from him. Babe, if you don’t want wahala, just stay away from him.”

Now in truth, I know that dude very well. In fact, some would say he’s my guy. You know all those your guys that you refuse to allow near your sisters? He’s one of those guys.

So I told her to stay away from him.

But another of my friends saw my im conversation, and tackled me about it, saying I was being a “cock blocker”. And I should have been loyal to my guy, in the spirit of “bros over hoes”, it’s possible that he could actually really like her, and she could’ve been the one to change him…and all that stuff.

So I’m throwing it out. Did I do the right thing? And if it was you, what would you have done?

Would you leave things to chance, where your friend’s heart is concerned?

Would you be loyal to your paddie and all that stuff?

Let’s have it.

Place comments below, and you can follow my blog for post updates 🙂

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>Nighttime Reflections

9:33 PM

Thanks to the rain, power got knocked out. So I’m lying on my bed in the dark. Glo started misbehaving with the rain, so I switched to MTN….and the way it’s going, this switch may just become permanent.

Anyways, so since I can’t really do much in the dark, I guess all I can do is reflect over the day sha …

It’s funny how things turn out, and how we learn about our faults.

Today, my new roommate and I had a bit of a fight. I got pissed over something he’d done, & decided to take him on about it. Little did I know that he’d had his own grievances piles up against me. And as I started vexing at him, the dude immediately set shit straight, and let me have it.

As he was vexing, I realized that he was right. I’d been wrong. And what I was vexing about was just ridiculous & bitchy really. So, I tried to settle things… but well, looks like dude’s mind is set. He’s the one now behaving like a babe that’s vexing and not wanting to say anything.

Anyways, what’s the point of this? I guess it’s just kinda hard to look at yourself sometimes, and say; “dude, you dey fuck up.” But I kinda had to do that today.

Obviously, I didn’t say this to my roommate, but I’ll set things straight again. I hope.

This is one reason I hate having roommates. I like the solitude that comes with being alone. And I guess having that in some form or fashion in the last semester kinda spoiled me…

Anyways …that’s basically all that’s running through this Maverick’s mind….

By the way, if you get the chance, check out

This babe just started blogging, but I think I like the way her mind works…give her a follow k?

K then…

Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>The Dirty Man: Is It In Our Blood?

Sup people? I’m sorry, I know it’s been a while since I put up a workable post. I’ve been real busy with a lot of different stuff. I’m back in uni now so, I’m gonna have less time.

Anyway, I moved back into the uni hostels last week, and mehn… living among so many guys? Wow. I think I’ve reached the point where I have to complain.

On Friday, I asked a question on twitter that no one bothered to answer. So I’m gonna ask here. Is there some part of the male brain that is hardwired, so that he cannot understand the concept of washing a dish? Or sweeping? Or just basically engaging in some act that will render his environment clean?

Good lord. Living in close quarters with some of these dudes and seeing some rooms has been really traumatic for me.

I’ve walked into some rooms, and I had to ask “Don’t you have a room at home? Do girls enter that room? Do you ever get laid? Do you even have parents? Or did someone wank into some dirt & harvest you as a pikin nine months after?”

Yes. It’s that bad. I’ve seen some rooms in this place ehn, that I’d rather not have a bath ever again for the rest of my life, than have a bath in that room. This is not a joke. There was this time when there was water only in some specific blocks, & my roommate carried me to some guy’s room, so we’d have our baths there. Shet. The smell that hit me as I walked through the door almost turned my hair green. Let’s not even talk about the bathroom.


I entered someone’s kitchenette a few days ago, and I actually had to look around, to make sure that I wasn’t in one of those big, public garbage places. Unfortunately for me, that’s the room I go when I wanna borrow an electric pot. So I have to go there all the time. And no. I have never ever found that pot clean when I want to use it. It’s always still messy from the day before.

What amazes me, is that these dudes don’t see anything wrong in living that way. I asked one guy if that was how his crib would be when he gets his & he said “Ehn, na my babe go dey clean up for me. I’m a man nah…”

No you idiot, you’re a dirty piece of nonsense floating near the bottom of the cesspool of stupidity! Because the last time I checked, women don’t like dirty dudes. And a dirty place is a sure way to chase her off. And even if that wasn’t the case, what kinda guy waits for a woman to clean up after him? Na your slave? And then when they start complaining bout good men being in short supply, you go dey vex.

What even pains me more, is that babes sef have accepted it like that. This girl walked into my room one day, & the look of shock on her face was so annoying! As in, she was actually tripped that it was clean. She was like “everyone knows that most guys have dirty rooms.” I wanted to konk the bonkon (but she was in my room for other reasons so…*aherm*)

Moving on.

See, when I was a kid, I always thought I was the messiest dude alive. & of course, my sisters and some of my bros did their best to get me to become better and all that. So I’m not saying that I’m the cleanest of individuals. But I try my best. In fact, my room is a mess right now. But I’ll clean it up in a bit. 🙂

But really, this attitude from dudes is just sickening and embarrassing. And that concept of “my babe will clean up”?? Disgusting.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying a woman can’t clean up for you if she wants to. But actually expecting her to? Get outta here with that shit. You know the same way we want women to be able to handle their shit, and change a light bulb or turn on the generator themselves? They also want your lazy ass to clean up after yourself and not expect them to wait on you hand & foot like a kid. And personally, I think it’s a fair trade.

So fellas, I know una go dey vex for me right now, but pay attention. Being clean isn’t so hard o. You just have to work at it. I know I’m working at it. And think of one of the benefits: a cleaner place?  more women…?

You do the math.


Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>A Thirteenth Birthday Disaster

It was his thirteenth birthday….and probably the most embarassing day of his life.

Ugo couldn’t even look up from the pillow which he’d buried his head in like an ostrich buries its head in the earth hoping it’s predators won’t see it. But in this case, some part of him hoped that if he kept his head there long enough, the embarassment would pass by him, and he wouldn’t have to go to school on monday.

When his mom had suggested a birthday party, the bells in his head immediatelly started ringing. He tried to discourage her. Tried to tell her he didn’t have so many friends, tried to tell her…anything to get her to forget about the idea. But she seemed fixed on it, & that was that.

He had no idea how he was going to manage it. It was bad enough that everyone in school knew that he came from a home where things were hard; evident in the cheap material his uniform was sewn from, and the fake Nike sneakers he wore (the kids his age were all about designer clothing and original sneaker brands)…but really, did he have to bring them to his house??

He told some of his friends about it. Leye and Sadiq had been his best friends from Primary 5, and he was sure they’d be able to help. Leye lived down in V.I, his father owned the apartment building they stayed in, along with many others, and was a former top shot at LSDPC. Sadiq lived in a massive house in Ikoyi. His dad was the MD of First Bank. A lot of the time, Ugo felt quite intimidated with the obvious wealth around them, but they didn’t seem to care that he couldn’t match up, which was one reason they were such good friends.

They also thought the party would be a good idea. “Guy.” Leye said. “It’s a birthday party. We’re in JS 1. Who wouldn’t want to be there?” Even Sadiq, the usually quiet one, was psyched about it. “We can invite that Portugese girl – what’s that her name again? -that just started coming here, I know you’ve been scoping her. And Tosin and her clique. And guy! You have to invite Tracy… she’s so pretty… & her breasts are growing!” He said with a shine in his eye. “SADIQ!!!” Leye shouted. “This is Ugo’s party joh. Okay, Ugo, we’ll invite…your mom said 30 people abi? Okay, don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Well, if they said so, he guessed it would be fine. They started making invitation cards, sent them out to 10 boys and 17 girls -it was always good to have more girls than boys, even 12 year olds knew that.- and everyone seemed to like the idea. He wasn’t as popular as Leye or Sadiq, but he was their friend, so he guessed he’s be accepted on that basis.

His birthday finally arrived. It was a Saturday, so it made good sense. He woke up feeling quite good. The house was smelling like his mother’s special fried rice recipe. She had been preparing things for the last 3 days. It had to go well.

Everyone was supposed to start showing up from about 2pm.

Leye and Sadiq came over at 11am. It was going to be a good day…right?

And then the problems began.

The new CD player his dad had finally bought after months of begging, simply stopped working. No reason they could understand. The thing didn’t even have the decency to wait till after the party to stop.

Then, around 2.15, Toyosi called the house, to say she couldn’t make it. And so did 12 other boys & girls.

The Portugese girl, Tracy, and Funke showed up, and so did 4 other boys. That was it. 3 girls, 7 boys. At a party meant for 30.

Tracy and Funke kept turning their noses at everything in the house. Their parents were rich, so they were obviously used to better things. When they passed some snide comment, it took both Sadiq and Ugo to hold Leye, so he wouldn’t go beat the both of them.

Things began to get worse.

The CD player was bad, so Ugo’s sister had (definitely not) the brightest of ideas. She brought down her radio! So now, they were listening to the radio, hoping the Dj on Rhythm would play something they could dance to.

When his mom started bringing out the food, Ugo decided to carry food to the Portugese girl, hoping he’d score points for that. He should’ve known better. Just as he got close to her with the food, he tripped. Spilling rice, salaad, and some curry chicken, all over her.

If he’d been in a better mood, the look of shock on her face would have been a priceless sight. But at that point…

She immediatelly got up, found her driver, and left.

“Okay,” he thought to himself. “Things really can’t get much worse than this.”

NEPA struck. They didn’t have a gen.

And like a group that had been planning it for a while, the four boys, besides Leye and Sadiq, and the two girls who remained, got up and left.

The party was over.

Three hours later, his mom knocked at his door. “Ugo come out. Everyone’s gone now. Come, everything will be fine.”

But he knew it wouldn’t be. As they walked out, the boys had smirks on their faces that could only be translated as “We’ll see you on Monday.”

He just wanted to stay in bed forever…or at least till  the shame of the day was washed away by the tears soaking into his pillow.

Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>Introspective Blogging: "Matching Your Beliefs"

I’ve come to a weird realization.

Very few people live by what they believe.

Yes, I know that in the grand scheme of things, this statement isn’t particularly new. Human beings have based themselves in double standards since the beginning of time. My memory fails me, but there was a particular character in the bible who slept with a prostitute, but had the guts to order that his daughter-in-law should be stoned, when they found that she was pregnant. Regardless of the fact that her actual husband had been dead for a time. Turned out though, that she’d been the woman he had sex with, but she wore a veil when they had sex, so he didn’t know. And the baby was his.

But I’ve gone away from the point haven’t I? Anyways, I think that, sometimes, it’s not necessarilly that individuals live by double standards, in some special cases, they may actually believe the truth of the theories they preach, but for some reason or the other, have problems converting those beliefs into actual action. More often than not, there’s a dissociation which may be caused by fear. It may be caused by the things we’ve been led to believeour entire lives.

As boys, we’re taught not to show emotion, and that crying is a weakness. We learn, when we become men, that it’s not necessarilly a weakness. But knowing this, and believing this, doesn’t mean we can simply get over the life long wiring that’s been laid into us. Does it?

A babe may realize that she is a jealous type when it comes to relationships. She may also think it’s wrong, and may sometimes speak against it. Does the fact that she still goes “she-hulk” sometimes, make her a bad person?

I think it’s all about working on your flaws. You realize you’re doing something wrong, something that goes against what you believe and preach, then work at it.

Don’t let anyone call you out on bullshit, saying you have a double standard. Understand within yourself that you’re working at it, and sooner than later, you’ll be fine.

Posted via Blogaway on my Android® Device.

>In Times Of Need.

Today, I had a rather bad day…..

Wait. That’s a really shit way to start a blog ne cest pas? But well, like I always say, my blog is my diary. So if you have a problem with it, adios!

Anyways, this update really isn’t about my shitty day, or the insanity that dwells in the mind of every LASTMA official in Lagos, or how some pot bellied bastard thugs who the state government has given some form of legality by making them LASTMA workers, will probably burn in hell and be anally raped by a demon with a 29″ wong everyday for the rest of eternity….

/* Calm down Panda*/

No…this update is not about that.

Today, in the midst of my problems, I really had nowhere to turn to. So I called a friend that I hadn’t seen in months. & even though, at the end of the day, he could only do so much, he actually showed up for me. Like, he showed up immediatelly he heard I had wahala.

I’ve always heard the saying that, the friends who are there for you in your times of trouble, are your real friends. So yeah. He’s a real friend. And, if you have anyone like that, please show em appreciation.  Cos really…you never know.

Hope y’all are having a good weekend. I, obviously am not.

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>A Mother’s Shield

|I’m quite horrible at telling stories unlike my friends Amina & Le Beau, & I’m definitely much more comfortable writing poetry than prose. But a friend told me I need to start working on prose. So here’s my second short story ever. The first was “Memories Race By” if you have the energy to dig through my blog to find it…

S/O to Hannah for editing this one. You can’t imaine how messy this would’ve looked without her help

Constructive commentary & criticism would be really appreciated.


A Mother’s Shield

A chikin sunan Yesu!!! Ba Abun da zai ta’ba kan dan-na!!! (in the name of Jesus! There’s nothing that can touch my son’s head!!!) the prayers rattled off Hauwa’s tongue like incantations flowing from the mouth of a skilled diviner. She had awoken with a start sometime around 2:35AM, and and felt a sudden, unexplainable urge to pray. She hadn’t had a bad dream or anything. All she knew was that she had felt something strike her spine, right at the same time she heard someone scream “ZAKARI!!!!!” in a blood curdling voice filled with fear and emerging tears. Hauwa knew that voice. That was Asiya’s voice.

She’d heard that voice transform from belonging to a little girl running around in her underwear, playing police and thief with her son Zakari in front of their house, to the beautiful woman who’s laugh always seemed to attract men to her like the voices of the fabled Greek Sirens would attract sailors to their island. They always seemed to attract every man except the one man both Hauwa and Asiya wanted it to attract; Zakari. Hauwa knew Asiya was in love with her son. She also knew that her son had never noticed it in the 22 odd years which they had been friends. But Hauwa had noticed. In fact, she knew when it had started.

The both of them had been 5 years old, and Zakari had just started learning Jeet Kun Do from his father Sanusi. Asiya had cried for days because her mother had refused to let her join Zak at the martial arts school. The woman was a Jehovah’s Witness, & was a firm believer in non-violence, especially among women. Asiya moped for days, and Zakari couldn’t cheer her up. One evening after dinner, she saw Zak leave the house quietly and go over to Asi’s house. He whistled their secret tune which Asi had taught him months before (the sound of the both of them whistling had almost driven her mad), and she crept out. She watched as Zak took Asi to their backyard, and begun teaching her the rudiments of JKD, as best as he could, considering the fact that he’d only started learning a week before then.

From that day on, Asiya begun to look at her son differently, and over the 20 years that passed, that look had never wavered. Zak had grown to be a fine specimen of a man. 6ft 2″ of pure manliness. He looked exactly like his father Sanusi had looked when he was 25. A face so beautiful, almost feminine, yet made masculine with the sheen of facial hair that covered it, and those sharp eyes that never missed a thing, yet could make knees melt when softened by that boyish grin they both had. Just like his father, he walked with a confidence that only a trained fighter could possess, and a trained fighter he was. Ruthlessly drilled day by day in his father’s school, he’d become easily the most lethal person in the area. And though he had a martial artist’s reserve, never jumping into fights, because he knew the damage he could cause, he still had his father’s arrogance; he was afraid of nobody, and would never back down from any situation, no matter how dangerous.

It was that arrogance that had always scared her and it was that same arrogance that she had been warned to pray about by her pastor last week Sunday. “The voice of a parent in the ears of God is shield that covers our children and pushes them out of harm’s way.” He had said to her after the service when she went to greet him. “Your husband Sanusi is no longer with us. Make sure your voice is loud enough for God to hear, to protect your son from himself.” She had no idea what those words meant, but waking up like this meant she had to make God hear her. “Allah, kar ka sa n bata abun kadai da ina da sha a dunia nan” (God, don’t let me lose the only thing I have left in this world.) She prayed fervently as she wiped a sheen of cold sweat from her forehead. Two hours after she woke up, her phone rang. It was Asiya. “Mama! Mama! Please wake up! Please come to the hospital quickly! Something’s happened to Zak!”

Between Hauwa’s throwing clothes on, and going to the hospital with the phone pressed to her ear, Asiya told her what happened. They had gone out that night to a club in V.I. “Caliente”, Asi had called it. They and their friends had just finished their final exams at uni, and decided to celebrate. There was a lot of drinking and partying going on. Then later in the night, some drunk rich thug had tried to force himself on Asiya. She defended herself well, using the fight techniques Zak had taught her, freeing herself, embarrassing the rich boy. But this wasn’t enough for Zak. Despite Asi’s pleas, he decided to teach the rich boy a lesson. He picked a fight with the boy & his friends. 6 drunk fools weren’t even close to being a match for him. Unfortunately, one of them snuck up behind him with a gun. All his years of Jeet Kun Do training, yet nothing had prepared him for that single bullet that hit him in the back. Hauwa found a taxi to carry her to Premier Hospital in V.I. Half crying, half praying, & almost going mad. She ran past the reception without even looking at the nurse that tried to stop her. Asiya was waiting for her. “He’s been in I.C.U for the last hour. The doctors won’t tell me anything.” Just then, a doctor came out, looked at Asi with recognition, & walked over to them. Images started pouring into Hauwa’s mind. Images of her crying over her dead son’s body as it was laid to rest. Images of her pushing him around in a wheelchair for the rest of his tortured life. She looked at the doctor with the petrified look of a woman who had raised a son for 25years, and couldn’t imagine a life without him…

“He’s alright. The bullet just narrowly missed his spine. We got it out, and he’ll be able to leave in a week.” She looked up at the doctor, daring him to say those words again. To give her hope again. To tell her that she still had a reason to live. “You’ll be able to see him in an hour.” Was all he said. An hour later, as she sat at the foot of his bed, crying so hard she soaked the blue hospital sheets, Zak looked at his mother and said to her in a weak voice “You know mama, just before I heard Asiya scream my name, and I felt that bullet hit me, I could’ve sworn I felt you push me. You know the way you always do when you want me to do something really quick.” All Hauwa could do was look at her son, her pride and joy, and cry. He had no idea…..absolutely no idea.

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