Ebig22: thunder fire op.mod no vex na hunger cause am.mtcheew useless topic

wetin b ur problem?

A very intresting story

Amsterdam!


Don't dull on this thread just ---- CLICK HERE FOR A BETTER THREAD

Somebody wake me up pls... Zuby's thread on FP.
*thumbs up.

Wey Oga zuby now..

Him sef don miss our FP chance oo..

Make I go drag him away from globalruns come home

Finally

Yeeeey!!! Oga zubby, u are on front page, oya come make we wash am..congratulobia!!!

Finally

I know one day u will make us proud..I know one day u will make us proud..

Finally, this great story has reach FB...nice one

.

I'm trying to get something straight here... Is the O.P actually a drug-dealer or is it fiction?
You'll land yourself in hot soup if you're really into all that crap and you spreading the news yourself.

Ebig22: thunder fire op.mod no vex na hunger cause am.mtcheew useless topic

this guy must b high on anointin oil.

Chapter 31: The new apartment.
I had performed tests as well. The
results showed that there was no
trace of my hereditary genes on
the forming blood/sperm.
As expected, it was such a bad
news for Ify. She knew that i
wouldn’t abandon her if the
pregnancy was mine. She also
knew that it wasn’t mine. She
knew what she did.
Irrespective of the fact, that our
lives in Bijlmer was boring and
without a clear direction, i decided
to do something i didn’t know i
was capable of doing.
I was going to stand with Ify all
through the pregnancy.
”Its Ok, I know its not my child
but i won’t leave you to suffer the
pregnancy alone. I will see what i
can do about it” i assured her.
Finding a house in Bijlmer wasn’t
difficult. Houses were readily
available since people were being
deported to other countries on
daily basis. People were also being
locked up, some were relocating
back to Nigeria while some were
upgrading to a more secured
environments.
Robin had found a two bedroom
apartment at €800 a month. It
was at a good area in Krainest
area. I told him to pay for the
usual one month from the money
in his hand.
He had sold the drugs from the
Colombians.
I had also called Carlos to come
for the money. He had asked if he
should get me more but i asked
him to wait until i found a new
place.
I had called Ada, who was the
official illegal house agent in
Bijlmer. She said she had a one
room apartment somewhere in
Bulewjik. The price was €450 since
it was an old building.
Ada took me to the house. It was
a nice one room and Parlour. Very
much the type of thing i wanted.
Since we were already past the
middle of the month, i paid for
the initial two months and told
them that i could move in anytime
i wanted.
From the house, i went to
Amsterdamse poort and bought a
new rug, then i took it to the new
house.
There was already a gas cooker,
fridge, bed and curtains in the
house. I only needed Chairs and
electronics.
When i got home, i told Ify that
she would be moving to a new
place soon. She was extremely
excited. She cried tears of joy.
Robin was responsible for the
decoration of the new apartment
in Krainest. There wasn’t much to
do in it anyway. The Ghanaian
man who owned it had left back to
Ghana without taking anything. He
said he would come for the
properties someday. Therefore,
we only took Robin’s TV and bags
along. I also took my bag and
laptop to the place.
Carlos had taken his money. I had
no more business with him for
sometime. He had been calling but
i told him to calm down. He
thought i was out.
Things went on as normal as it
could be until the 25th day of the
month, i hired a bus and took Ify
and some of the properties down
to Bulewijk.
She was so happy at the choice of
the house. It wasn’t as big as our
previous one but very good and
compacted.
The driver had helped me to get
the chairs to the apartment and
organised things the way we
wanted them.
Ify had asked why i didn’t keep my
bags and laptop with other things
there.
”You are going to live alone here. I
will be visiting whenever i want
and not when you want. Your
punishment is that you can’t invite
a man here. The moment i see a
man in this place, you will start
paying for it. This place is going to
be costing me atleast €600 every
month, including the electricity
and other bills. That is equivalent
to N120,000 in Nigeria. Don’t
insult me with your frivolous
lifestyle again or i will abandon
you” i said.
I also think you should call Ikenna
and ask him what to do about the
pregnancy.
She said she won’t call him since
he couldn’t call her since the day i
recovered my money from him.
I had persuaded her to call him
but when she tried, we learnt that
the coward had changed his
number. I wondered if he had left
Amsterdam as well.
The next day after moving Ify to
the new apartment, i went to the
Shops and bought her a 25kg bag
of Basmati Rice, some canned
beans, 5kg of Chicken meat, Some
fish and many more things.
I hid everything about Ify from
everyone else including Robin. I
was sure Robin would kick against
my association with her. He would
definitely blame me for trying to
help her but whenever i wanted to
do something good, i didn’t need
advisers.
I knew some girls in Amsterdam
and Germany who found
themselves in Ify’s condition. They
had nobody to call this and just
roamed the streets looking for
where to get the next meal. It was
that bad.
Jennifer was one good example.
Our women needed protection
and it seemed that our men were
only interested in one thing;
Money.
Our men also ran away from
women because they knew that
the women wanted money too. It
was all about money, nobody
cared about life itself. Few of us
who understood the system were
the only ones who could make a
difference and if we allowed our
minds to be corrupted, then there
would be no hope for our women
in foreign lands.
For the next one week, i slept in
Bijlmer and Bulewijk. I gave Robin
excuses upon excuses. Eventually i
told him that i found a girlfriend
who always wanted me to sleep
over in her house; he bought into
the lie.
Who cared, as far as i knew, i was
married to Ify. I was the unofficial
husband. I did everything a
husband does. I would pet her,
buy her everything and played
with her. She would remember
our story and started to cry in the
middle of a play or conversation.
It wasn’t easy for her but there
were things we couldn’t change.
At a stage, i called Carlos to tell
him that i was ready to start
again. His phone number didn’t
connect. I called Hugo, He said
that Carlos was arrested by
Interpol and had been taken to
Norway to face charges over his
drug deals in Oslo.
It was time for me to change my
phone number too.
That and others had become the
lives of my fellow black men in
Amsterdam. It wasn’t easy for us.
Life itself was a challenge for every
human being but when the society
you lived and breath treated you
as a second class human and as
an outcast, life became more
challenging.
That was what i witnessed.
” We can easily forgive a child
who is afraid of the dark; the
real tragedy of life is when men
are afraid of the light”

Chapter 31: The new apartment.
I had performed tests as well. The
results showed that there was no
trace of my hereditary genes on
the forming blood/sperm.
As expected, it was such a bad
news for Ify. She knew that i
wouldn’t abandon her if the
pregnancy was mine. She also
knew that it wasn’t mine. She
knew what she did.
Irrespective of the fact, that our
lives in Bijlmer was boring and
without a clear direction, i decided
to do something i didn’t know i
was capable of doing.
I was going to stand with Ify all
through the pregnancy.
”Its Ok, I know its not my child
but i won’t leave you to suffer the
pregnancy alone. I will see what i
can do about it” i assured her.
Finding a house in Bijlmer wasn’t
difficult. Houses were readily
available since people were being
deported to other countries on
daily basis. People were also being
locked up, some were relocating
back to Nigeria while some were
upgrading to a more secured
environments.
Robin had found a two bedroom
apartment at €800 a month. It
was at a good area in Krainest
area. I told him to pay for the
usual one month from the money
in his hand.
He had sold the drugs from the
Colombians.
I had also called Carlos to come
for the money. He had asked if he
should get me more but i asked
him to wait until i found a new
place.
I had called Ada, who was the
official illegal house agent in
Bijlmer. She said she had a one
room apartment somewhere in
Bulewjik. The price was €450 since
it was an old building.
Ada took me to the house. It was
a nice one room and Parlour. Very
much the type of thing i wanted.
Since we were already past the
middle of the month, i paid for
the initial two months and told
them that i could move in anytime
i wanted.
From the house, i went to
Amsterdamse poort and bought a
new rug, then i took it to the new
house.
There was already a gas cooker,
fridge, bed and curtains in the
house. I only needed Chairs and
electronics.
When i got home, i told Ify that
she would be moving to a new
place soon. She was extremely
excited. She cried tears of joy.
Robin was responsible for the
decoration of the new apartment
in Krainest. There wasn’t much to
do in it anyway. The Ghanaian
man who owned it had left back to
Ghana without taking anything. He
said he would come for the
properties someday. Therefore,
we only took Robin’s TV and bags
along. I also took my bag and
laptop to the place.
Carlos had taken his money. I had
no more business with him for
sometime. He had been calling but
i told him to calm down. He
thought i was out.
Things went on as normal as it
could be until the 25th day of the
month, i hired a bus and took Ify
and some of the properties down
to Bulewijk.
She was so happy at the choice of
the house. It wasn’t as big as our
previous one but very good and
compacted.
The driver had helped me to get
the chairs to the apartment and
organised things the way we
wanted them.
Ify had asked why i didn’t keep my
bags and laptop with other things
there.
”You are going to live alone here. I
will be visiting whenever i want
and not when you want. Your
punishment is that you can’t invite
a man here. The moment i see a
man in this place, you will start
paying for it. This place is going to
be costing me atleast €600 every
month, including the electricity
and other bills. That is equivalent
to N120,000 in Nigeria. Don’t
insult me with your frivolous
lifestyle again or i will abandon
you” i said.
I also think you should call Ikenna
and ask him what to do about the
pregnancy.
She said she won’t call him since
he couldn’t call her since the day i
recovered my money from him.
I had persuaded her to call him
but when she tried, we learnt that
the coward had changed his
number. I wondered if he had left
Amsterdam as well.
The next day after moving Ify to
the new apartment, i went to the
Shops and bought her a 25kg bag
of Basmati Rice, some canned
beans, 5kg of Chicken meat, Some
fish and many more things.
I hid everything about Ify from
everyone else including Robin. I
was sure Robin would kick against
my association with her. He would
definitely blame me for trying to
help her but whenever i wanted to
do something good, i didn’t need
advisers.
I knew some girls in Amsterdam
and Germany who found
themselves in Ify’s condition. They
had nobody to call this and just
roamed the streets looking for
where to get the next meal. It was
that bad.
Jennifer was one good example.
Our women needed protection
and it seemed that our men were
only interested in one thing;
Money.
Our men also ran away from
women because they knew that
the women wanted money too. It
was all about money, nobody
cared about life itself. Few of us
who understood the system were
the only ones who could make a
difference and if we allowed our
minds to be corrupted, then there
would be no hope for our women
in foreign lands.
For the next one week, i slept in
Bijlmer and Bulewijk. I gave Robin
excuses upon excuses. Eventually i
told him that i found a girlfriend
who always wanted me to sleep
over in her house; he bought into
the lie.
Who cared, as far as i knew, i was
married to Ify. I was the unofficial
husband. I did everything a
husband does. I would pet her,
buy her everything and played
with her. She would remember
our story and started to cry in the
middle of a play or conversation.
It wasn’t easy for her but there
were things we couldn’t change.
At a stage, i called Carlos to tell
him that i was ready to start
again. His phone number didn’t
connect. I called Hugo, He said
that Carlos was arrested by
Interpol and had been taken to
Norway to face charges over his
drug deals in Oslo.
It was time for me to change my
phone number too.
That and others had become the
lives of my fellow black men in
Amsterdam. It wasn’t easy for us.
Life itself was a challenge for every
human being but when the society
you lived and breath treated you
as a second class human and as
an outcast, life became more
challenging.
That was what i witnessed.
” We can easily forgive a child
who is afraid of the dark; the
real tragedy of life is when men
are afraid of the light”

Chapter 32: The Inevitable Change
One Monday afternoon, I went to
the Western Union and sent €500
to Jennifer in Berlin. I told her
that i did that for the little
Azubuike. I guessed it was the
reason why she gave the little boy
the name.
Business was moving slowly but it
was moving. Robin was moving
drugs to Switzerland. After
encouraging me to join him, I had
reluctantly given him €3000 as a
starting capital. He had been
doing the business however he
wanted. After the first two weeks,
he returned €6000 to me. He
expected me to be jubilant but i
wasn’t. He also expected me to
invest all the €6000 but i refused.
I gave him the initial €3000 and
asked him to continue with it. I
also told him not to give me any
account until after two months.
One afternoon, i visited a friend of
mine. I overheard him quarreling
on the phone with a popular drug
mover who resided in Ghana.
It happened that the drug mover
who was based in Ghana had
shifted some bad drugs to
Amsterdam. His name was Ezego.
My friend who was one of his
retailers in Amsterdam had taken
the stuff but couldn’t sell it. Ezego
had been accusing him that he had
sold the goods and wanted to use
the money to do some other
business.
Somehow, i decided to wade into
the business. When i left My friend
Paul, i started asking around for
Ezego’s number. After many trials,
i got the number and called him.
”Good evening Chief Ezego” i had
greeted.
Naturally he asked who i was. I
had introduced myself as Anioke
and told him were i came from.
Chief Ezego happened to be from
my neighbouring town in Enugu.
I narrated to him why i called him
and told him that i could sell the
goods that was bad. He said he
would call me back.
He called back later and gave me a
number to call. According to him,
the person would give me the
goods if i call him.
I called the man and told him that
i was directed to pick up a kilo of
Cocaine from him.
He gave me an address where i
went and picked up the stuff.
After picking up the stuff, i started
making calls. I had repackaged the
stuff and told my contacts that it
was from Colombia. I also
reminded them that it was a
special stuff which didn’t sink fast
to the bottom of water like the
other normal stuffs did.
After a day and half, i sold off the
goods and sent the money to
Ezego in Ghana. From then on, I
became his major contact
Amsterdam.
Each time his consignment
showed up in Amsterdam, i would
receive them first. He would then
direct some other retailers to me.
Money started coming in once
more.
Since i wasn’t really interested in
drug business anymore, i had
handed the business to Robin to
Manage. He would do all the leg
works and accounted for me. I
would divide the profits into two
and gave him one. Sometimes, i
would divide it into three and took
two.
Ezego trusted me despite never
seeing me for the first time. He
was also directing some of his
friends in Ghana to me.
As a result, people were trooping
into our apartment all the time.
We devised a plan.
We would deal and deal until
around 6pm, then we would stop.
I would call my special Snoda who
would take me to Bulewijk where
Ifeyinwa lived. I would carry all he
drugs in the house and go to
Bulewijk. I had figured that it was
only a matter of time before the
Police or the Robbers would pick
interest in our apartment. I was
right.
One Cold night, we finished our
deals and as usual, i took the
drugs to Bulewijk. We wanted to
go to GrandCafe night club that
night, as result, i had dropped
the drugs in Bulewijk and returned
to Krainest to prepare for the
club.
It was also risky keeping the drugs
with Ify but i had a feeling that
she had learnt her lesson after the
first incident. I believed she
wouldn’t steal from me again,
although i never told her what had
always been in the bag.
We had left the night club around
4am and returned to the Krainest
apartment. Our door had been
broken and our apartment
searched. They took my laptop
and two phones. They found no
drugs. Fortunately for me, i had
always backed up my phone books
and saved them in a simcard
which i always hid somewhere.
The news had spread quickly that
burglars had broken into our
apartment. I had gotten calls from
people asking whether they took
money or drugs.
The news had quickly traveled to
Africa. Ezego had called me to
confirm the news but when i told
him that i had two apartments
and that the drugs were not in the
apartment where they broke, he
trusted me more. I knew that i
could have lied to him that they
took our drugs. It meant that i
could have stolen the last 2
Kilograms he sent to me. It was
worth over €50,000 which was a
whole lot of money but i also
knew that i wasn’t wired to behave
that way. I wasn’t a thief. All the
illegal ways i had used to take
what belonged to other people
were to satisfy one wrong doing
or the other.
Business continued.
Life continued.
For some reasons, i stopped
smoking Cigarette and Marijuana.
I had started reading a lot of
books which kept me busy all day.
I would go to a bookshop and buy
every Sydney Sheldon, Dan Brown
and John Grisham i could get. I
also started staying more with Ify.
Her stomach had started bulging.
She needed me around her all the
time where she would be
reminding me how wonderful i
had been to her.
She would call her parents back
home in Nigeria and give me
phone to talk with them. The
parents would thank and pray for
me on the phone for taking care
of their daughter. The father
would joke sometimes that it
seemed we made a good couple.
One afternoon, i got an e mail
from Eindhoven. It was from a
man named Marteen. It seemed
they were about to organize some
kind of African summit and
wanted me to come and perform
as a speaker/comedian.
It was a nice get away from
Amsterdam. I replied and told the
man that i would like to take up
the invitation.
He explained that my pay was
€350 but i didn’t care. It wasn’t
about the money, it was about
doing something legal and
different.
I was going to Eindhoven to
address people.
” Old age is like a
plane flying
through a storm.
Once you’re
aboard there’s
nothing you can
do.”

Chapter 33: The Truth.
”Ladies and gentlemen, I am
happy for the opportunity given to
me to speak here today. My name
is S** M***a. I have lived for
quite sometime in this country
and have observed some things
that should not have been
happening to any human being in
this century. The kingdom of
Netherlands has done so much to
help the people of Africa. On
behalf of the African people, i
thank you so much. However,
there are some areas that we still
require your help. The first among
them is the area of accepting and
banking monies stolen by the
corrupt politicians all over Africa.
You can argue that such monies
don’t come to the Kingdom of
Netherlands but i can argue that
Europe has become one. I am a
Nigerian and i know how difficult
things are back home for my
people. They don’t have good
drinking waters, they don’t have
electricity, they don’t have good
shelter, no roads, no good
education and no health
insurance. You see, If Europe and
United States stop receiving and
banking those stolen funds, the
corrupt politicians will have
nowhere to invest the money
except back home. It is because of
the hardships inflicted on the
masses that propelled them to
seek for greener pastures
elsewhere.
They use every possible means to
run away from their own
countries. They walk across
Sahara desert just to come to
Europe in search of food and
medicine. They die in their
thousands yearly while attempting
to come to Europe while the
World sit back and watch. They
drown daily in Mediterranean sea
while trying to find food and
shelter and when they eventually
succeeded in crossing to Europe,
you give them the same rights you
give your dogs. You don’t allow
them to go to school, you don’t
give them work, you don’t give
them identities and you don’t
even want to see them. You make
laws that discriminate against
them even before they come. As a
result, they have no other means
of survival except to commit one
petty crime or the other. They
take to the streets to hawk drugs
just to survive. You catch them
and lock them up for long and
when you finally release them,
most hardly know where they
came from. You gather them and
send them to one African country
or another in the name of
deportation. They eventually end
up in the same place and the
same situation they tried to run
away from. I am not placing
blames on you for the problems
of Africa, i am asking for help.
Children are dying everyday
because their parents can’t afford
cheap drugs. Instead of hospitals,
they turn to Church for divine
help. Ladies and gentlemen, this is
the 21st Century. Where is the
human rights we have been
hearing since the 19th century?
Where is the equal rights we read
in the papers? I am asking you to
appeal to the European Union
parliament to help the people of
Africa. Stopping us from crossing
into Europe through the
Mediterranean sea or sending us
back to Africa are not long term
solutions to the problems. The
long term solution is to stop and
excommunicate our
Corrupt leaders, stop selling your
properties to them, stop them
and their children from coming to
your countries to live or study,
encourage them to develop our
health and education system so
that the masses will benefit. Stop
giving them loans that usually end
up in their personal bank
accounts. When this and other
good plans are implemented in
the Africa system, the exodus of
my people to Europe will stop.
Many of them are not educated
enough to know where they are
going. Many of them cannot
locate Europe in a map yet they
want to come to Europe.
I remember asking a friend of
mine if he knew where Israel was
located in a map, do you know the
answer he gave me, he said that
Europe is in Heaven. Thank you” i
ended my speech amidst laughter
from the more than 200 people
sitting in the ‘City Halle’ of
Eindhoven.
I was invited to amuse them with
some of the jokes i had published
with the The African Bulletin
newspaper but i decided to use
the opportunity to remind them
that things where bad back home.
I also decided to end my speech
with the small ‘Israel in Heaven’
joke so that they would be
laughing while i exited the
building and that was what i did. I
had walked back to the seat where
i was before i was called up,
collected the rehearsal paper i left
on the seat and left the building
through the back door. I went
straight to the Eindhoven central
station and entered a train
heading back to Amsterdam.
Mr Marteen who had invited me
tried to call me while i was in the
train but i didn’t answer the call. I
sent him a message telling him
that i was in a bus back to
Amsterdam and that i will talk to
him later. I believed he wanted to
pay me the money we agreed on
but i wasn’t going to risk
deportation back to Portugal
because of that amount. I already
made my point which was worth
more than €350.
When i got back, i called Mr
Marteen. He asked why i didn’t
wait for him. I told him that i
finished what i was invited to do
and left. He was extremely happy
for my speech. He didn’t expect
the speech. He himself had lived in
Zambia for years and worked
there. He loved Africa and loved
promoting African things. He was
the secretary of one Dutch-African
Integration group. It was his
group that organised the event. It
was a yearly event. Mr Marteen
invited me for the event of the
coming year but i laughed at it. I
reminded him that it was still one
year ahead.
Back in my room in Bulewijk, i
reflected on the speech i made in
Eindhoven. It was a brave move
which selfish people could regard
as silly and dangerous since it was
capable of landing me in trouble
but i knew that i was a Nigerian
and An African Ambassador in
Europe.
At a time in Amsterdam, i stopped
caring whether i would be
deported or not. I didn’t
misbehave or disobey laws but i
started going to some places
which the Nigerian Community
regarded as out of bound due to
our colour and Status. I did all i
could to emancipate myself from
mental slavery and i succeeded
because i stopped being scared.
” Men occasionally
stumble over the
truth, but most of
them pick
themselves up and
hurry off as if
nothing ever
happened”

Chapter 34: Samson.
Eight months after Ikenna and
Ehis broke into my apartment,
Ifeyinwa gave birth to a boy. Due
to the fact that we had no Health
Insurance, i paid cash for the
maternity bills. The baby looked
strong, therefore we called him
Samson. He resembled the
mother. I had decided to assume
the role of the father. Ify delivered
Samson through operation
because he grew big right from
the stomach. I had hired a
Nigerian man who had Dutch
passport to sign as the father of
the boy. It gave Ify and the baby
the opportunity to get resident
permits.
Ify was required to provide her
international passport. A temporal
resident permit was stamped in
her passport which would be
gradually renewed in time. I had
paid €5000 to the man who signed
as Samson’s Father.
After one week of Ify’s delivery, i
took out time and calculated the
money i had spent on the Boy and
the mother. It was close to
€9,000. That was a lot of money
which many people would have
condemned me for paying if i had
told them but since i hated
discouragement, i didn’t tell
anyone except Robin.
He had called me one afternoon
and asked why i haven’t returned
to our apartment in Krainest. I
told him that i was coming and
when i came, i told him
everything.
Robin was atleast 6 years older
than i was. I regarded him as an
elder brother since we came from
the same extended family.
However, he knew that i was a
person who always came up with
ideas of my own and how to
implement them.
He didn’t blame me for everything
i did for Ify, he only said that he
could have discouraged me
initially if i had told him that i
wanted to find an apartment for
her. He said he didn’t know i could
be that secretive for such a long
time.
Netherlands and Europe were
unlike Africa where one can invite
a relative’s child or hire a nanny
to help in raising a baby. The
entire responsibilities usually lied
with the parents. The parents
Samson had in Amsterdam was Ify
and I. The name which he was
given at birth was that of the man
who had taken money from me
just to sign that he was the father.
Either way, i was a loser. The boy
didn’t have my name and my
blood. Sometimes i wondered
what was in it for me but i
remembered that it was only the
society failures who always wanted
something in return each time
someone asked them for help.
The whole thing was a
punishment for me. Yes, it was a
punishment because, i had
decided not to fall in love with Ify.
I had rebuffed every love advance
she had made. It had taken her
many months to make the first
move.
We were playing Ludo game that
night with a bottle of open red
wine in front of us. She had
gotten tipsy and amidst laughter
from the jokes i was telling her,
she had dropped the Ludo cup,
held my neck and planted a kiss
on my lips. I didn’t respond or
push her out, she was pregnant. I
just waited until she finished
kissing me, then i said:
”I don’t want you to repeat this
another time”
She cried all through the night but
i wasn’t moved. She didn’t try that
again
Until some months later when she
was almost due for delivery.
We were watching a movie called
Desparate Housewives in our
sitting room. She had asked me to
rub her large stomach and i
agreed. The rubbing and massage
had gotten to her and she had
held me close and planted the kiss
again. As usual, i allowed her to
finish and when she was done, i
said:
”I thought we agreed that you
won’t try that again”?
She had started beating me and
shouting.
”You are wicked, you are a
coward, i hate you”.
And all of a sudden, the cries and
shouting had turned to:
”My stomach, please hold me,
please, please, i am dying”.
I was alerted. It was unusual. I
didn’t know what it was. I had
tried to calm her down but she
was restless. I had almost called
the Ambulance but i decided to
knock on the doors or our
neighbour. She was a Suriname
woman who had two Sturbon
children.
The woman followed me into our
apartment and after observing Ify,
she said that she was in Labour.
Labour! Was it what i said that
triggered her labour? Was i guilty
of any offence? I didn’t think so.
The Suriname woman had a small
car. She had held Ify up and asked
me to help take her to the car. We
had taken her to the car where we
stood and waited for the woman
to get the keys and open the
vehicle.
Three of us had driven to a
hospital there in Bulewijk and
registered.
About four months before the
labour, i had taken Ify to the
Nigerian Embassy in Den Hague.
She had made international
passport which made me €840
poorer.
We had registered Ify in the
hospital where i was told to go
and get some birthing stuffs we
had purchased some weeks back.
The good Suriname woman had
driven me back to the house and
took me back to the hospital. I
was told to wait at the hospital
canteen while they did whatever
they did in the labour room.
”Are you the husband of Miss Ify”
a black female nurse had asked
me.
I nodded and kept quiet since i
didn’t know the next question.
”We are going to operate on her,
the baby can’t come out on its
own” she had said.
My mind had made a quick
calculation and came to the
conclusion that the process was
going to cost much more money
than i had budgeted.
”Really, if that is the best option,
please go ahead” i said.
She asked me to follow her to a
room where i signed a document
written in Dutch. I knew German,
therefore it was not difficult to
know that i was signing an
approval for the operation.
Assuming the responsibility of the
husband was a dangerous one. I
had signed a document which
gave me the sole responsibility of
Ify and her baby. If anything went
wrong during the operation, i was
required to also take the
responsibility.
The lady had made some receipts
and asked me for my health
Insurance card. I had told her that
i didn’t have that. She had said
that i would pay €2400 in cash.
I had hoped that the birthing
process won’t cost me more than
a thousand Euro but things had
quickly changed.
”Alright, go ahead and operate on
her” i had said.
” Each day is a little life: every
waking and rising is a little birth,
every fresh morning is a little
youth, every going to rest and
sleep is a little death”

Chapter 35: The Agony.
”We need the money first sir” the
nurse said.
I brought out my leather skin
wallet and counted 3 €500 bills,
then handed it over to her.
”I will go and get the rest while
you do your operation” i had said.
She wrote a receipt and gave me.
Then i walked outside and took a
snoda back to my apartment in
Krainest.
I had gone into my room and
picked up another €1500, then on
my way out again, Robin came
out.
”Why are you sweating in this cold
weather” he had asked.
Nothing, i just ran from the metro
station.
”Where are you going again this
night, you don’t go out this way”
he had asked.
”I need to go and finish up some
ecstasy deal, i will be back soon” i
had said.
”You are the person who warned
that we don’t do night business,
why breaking the rule” he asked.
”This is different, i will explain” i
said and closed the door behind
him.
I had driven back to the hospital
and sat at the canteen.
The time was 10 minutes past
3am when a nurse tapped on my
Soldier and said
”Congratulations! You have a baby
boy”.
I had jumped up and smiled.
”I hope they are OK”? I said.
She said they were very fine and
asked me to follow her.
Ify was sleeping when i came into
the room. The nurse explained
that she had been sedated with
sleeping injections.
The baby had been cleaned and
placed on a small bed. He was
sleeping peacefully.
I had stood there and watched
him for long. The nurse had
noticed that i wasn’t all smiles and
happy.
”Are you not happy for your son
Sir” she had asked me.
I looked straight at her and said
”I am not the father”.
She looked at me and said
nothing.
I had followed her to the office
and gave her the balance of their
money. She had written a new
receipt and gave me. I had
decided to finish the night at the
hospital since i can’t get a snoda
by that time of the morning.
Around 6am, the Suriname woman
who had brought us to the
hospital came. She met me at the
canteen and asked about my wife.
I told her that she was operated
on and she had given birth to a
baby boy. She hugged and
congratulated me.
Since Ify wasn’t going to leave the
hospital that day, i had followed
the woman back to the house and
slept.
When i woke up around 11 am, I
called Mr Isaac Onovo, He was a
man from Akpugo Nkanu in Enugu
State. I told him that the lady i
told her about had given birth to a
boy and that he needed to go to
the hospital to sign for the
Paternity. He asked for his money
first.
I told him to meet me in my
house on Krainest. I had taken a
taxi back to the house in Krainest
and gave him €5000, then we had
went back to the hospital where
he had signed for the child as his
father.
Ify didn’t know about all that. She
never asked me to look for
someone to sign. The process
required someone with Dutch
passport. She knew that it
required money, money she didn’t
have and didn’t know if i would
give her. She knew her limits and
never asked me for such money
but out of love and compassion, i
had taken up the
Responsibility of making sure that
the baby didn’t have illegal status.
If the baby was given illegal status
without someone signing for him,
he would not be entitled to go to
school in the Netherlands until the
mother had a legal status.
That was the fate of the young
Samson Onovo. That was the fate
of many other black Children in
Holland and elsewhere in Europe.
It was almost as deadly as poison
to know that your child wouldn’t
be able to do what the other
children were doing.
Europe was like a cult community.
The other children met and knew
each other in schools. They played
according to their various grades
in school. It was almost
impossible to break into their
circle if you didn’t attend the same
school as them. They would be
bullying you in their groups too.
NO, I knew Samson wasn’t
biologically mine but as long as it
was me who nurtured the
pregnancy, he was Mine. It was as
simple as that. I wasn’t called
Ozoigbondu for nothing. I needed
to sometimes live up to that
name.
The birth of Samson cost me
money, a lot of money but it was
money i was happy that i spent.
News spread after a few days,
that Ify had given birth to a boy.
People asked me about her in
Amsterdamse poort. They wanted
to know how she and the baby
were doing.
They had started seeing me with
baby foods and products. I had
become the responsible Dad.
Despite the stress of waking up
every night to attend to Samson, it
was all fun watching him.
After telling Robin about Ify and
the baby, i had decided to be
sleeping with them every night
since there was no house help. Ify
needed some rest, she had just
been operated on. She need me
more than anything.
I had become the houseboy and
cook. She depended on me. She
had gotten tired of thanking me
and had stopped.
One evening, i saw her crying in
her room.
”What is it Ifeyinwa” i had asked.
She said the only wish she had in
her life was just to answer my
wife.
She said if she knew that i was
capable of even accepting her, she
would have opened up initially and
told me that she was pregnant.
She said if she were given the
chance to make a wish, it would
be for God to protect me since
she knew that if i were protected,
she and Samson would be protect
too.
One other day, she had asked me
why i gave the boy Samson as a
name. I told her that he looked
strong when he was born. She
didn’t believe me. She believed
that there was something else
attached to why i gave him that
name. Peharps there was, but as
far as i was concerned, Samson
was just a name i had seen in the
Bible, somewhere in the book of
Judges chapter 13.
He was a strong man who had
killed a Lion with a donkey’s
jawbone. The story had it the he
also killed thousand of Philippines
but his wife eventually deceived
him. It was one of my favourite
Bible stories.
One evening, after boiling hot
water to make food for my son
Samson, a knock came on our
door.
”Are you expecting anybody” i
asked Ify.
She said she wasn’t.
I got up and opened the door.
It was Ikenna.
” Anger is an acid
that can do more
harm to the vessel
in which it is
stored than to
anything on which
it is poured”

The OP's story seems like a classic from James's Hardly Chase. A vivid eye opener for Africans at home about black man's life in modern Europe.
Enugu people still remains one of the most influential people in Igboland ; they have equally shown that they aren't less savvy than other Igbo people.
Übrigens, Zubby, i think Deutsche Bahn's ICE means Inter- City Express.
Quite a thought provoking piece....

Madawaki01: Getting more interestin

And more outlandish.

Mmmmmmmmm.. Odikwa risky. Biko change d names

I used to live in Holland before, but I've never lived like that, lived in Nijmegen, had job, a house and a Holland passport, it's seems you chose the wrong path, i was also illegal once, i used to live in Amsterdam too in early 90's with jeje, so I know your struggle but sometimes people still choose the fastest way and party live in Amsterdam, i left Amsterdam and went to suburban city with the help of Allah I'm doing good, those guys now more than twenty years later, they still there complaining.

Wow! My adrenalin was pumping all through!!

I could feel the "realness" of this write up. Weldone OP, looking forward to how it eventually turns out.

Choi! Its almost 3am here, need to get a shutter!!

dis story no allow me sleep...ny way..off to dreamlnd no..hope you have updated before i wake...God bless the OP

Wao! Nwanne, u got me captivated.
I can't believe I spent the whole night ready your piece.
How I wish a particular frnd of mine would read this. I'll try and send the link to him.
Weldone;

Boring sh#t

airlord: Boring sh#t

Are u even human? I doubt it......

Where d hell is the op. Better come and complete what u started. I hate mmadu i mem akpili ogologo. But i dont like ur perspective about Anambra ppl.

i cant believe this story stopped me from going to church. zubby may God forgive you

airlord: Boring sh#t

just shut up. U don't have to comment if you have nothing to say.

As someone who lived in the Netherlands for over 10 years, this story resonates. I know the Bijlmer in Amsterdam--and actually lived there for four months as a student. Being a student meant I spent more time in the lab than to be bothered about what fellow Nigerians were up to. My life while in the Netherlands was so opposite to that of the author. I was never an illegal resident, I was never short of money and I never socialised exclusively with Nigerians. My circle of acquaintances was more international (Dutch, Belgians, Nigerians, Moroccans, South Africans). After my studies I found a nice job, and moved to The Hague from Amsterdam.

All I can say is thanks for this story. It is unfortunate you had to go through what you went through (if your story happens to be true, that is). You still have a chance to pick up the pieces and build a positive life. I loved the Netherlands and benefited a lot from living there. Though African, I believe I contributed something to the country that I can be proud of--lots of publications in Engineering scientific journals, participation in cultural organisations and working in technology development in industry. Not all of us Africans in Amsterdam only woke up, ate and traded drugs. I hadn't a clue about the drugs trade in the Bijlmer though I often read a bit in the papers about it and can vividly recall the 2009 incident when a Nigerian man jumped from a high rise and died. This was widely published in the Dutch media.

Most low-skilled Nigerians in the Netherlands were disadvantaged by a language barrier (they barely understood or spoke Dutch). Highly skilled Nigerians could get along with English as their work tended to be predominantly in English. Relative to Ghanians, there were few Nigerians in the Netherlands so, Nigerians did not suffer from the same stigma of suspicion that one sees in the UK or South Africa.