All rights reserved. The use of this work in whole or part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without permission from the copyright owner.
Thank you.






Pandemonium ensued when the bubbles of the macabre news broke that he had been found; where?! In the river, with the rim in a tyre of a 7 tonnes truck tied around his neck. The rim was planned to submerge the corpse; but it happened conversely because the perpetrators of this heinous act failed to take into consideration:

-----> the buoyancy of the gas trapped in the
body

-----> water temperature or salinity or density

-----> and the principle of Achimedes which
states that a mass is buoyed up
by a force equal to the weight of the water it
displaces -- simple science!


Forthwith, tears began to flow in torrent down my cheeks like an incessant sea tides, caused by a raging storm. Everybody cried except one of my brothers. At first, as a 12yr old kid then, I was like- why won't he cry? But I now understand that he was only acting like a man. Ma'mi on the other hand was devastated. Sat on the floor in one of the rooms in the house, hair shaved, crying profusely and surrounded by sympathisers. She later told me that while in that room that day, he appeared at the door, peeped into the room, looked to the left and right and then shook his head in pity and sorrow, then vanished. Meanwhile, I have heard times and time again that spirits roam. But hearing it from Ma'mi, and as a kid, i can only do little or nothing to contest such frightening
fable.


And to those that perpetrated this gruesome
and barbaric wanton malevolence: I don't know them, but they knew my father bought the land. They knew he was the owner, but they chose to rob him of his life in such a barbaric manner; thereby plunged my family into the doldrums. There are these sayings that:

-----> the killer of igunugun(vulture) doesn't last the day, the killer of akalamagbo(hawk) doesn't last the month, and also the killer of lekeleke ()..... (i don't know the rest)

-----> When conscienceless power meets with
powerless conscience; the former would laugh
first and the latter would laugh last

-----> Good people would last, wicked people
would last, it is only the earth that could tell
which would tread it longer


I don't know if i miss him today because he was a disciplinarian, and no kid likes a disciplinarian. The cold hand of death took him before I could realise that his iron-parenting style was like a forge that shaped(ing) my character for good, and behoves me to be circumspect and also to tread the path of propriety.


He was a tall, fair-skinned and finely built man. He was a man of honour, whose integrity was never doubted during and after his lifetime.
He was a caring and a serious father, who gave no room for childish un-seriousness. In any occasion where he had to flog a child, and
Ma'mi happened to be present, hmm.. Her
presence means trouble because she would
begin to lay bare the child's infractions in
ascending order of magnitude and severity-- you know what that means for the child! This
corrective measure won't deter him from inviting the child(if a boy) to come and dine with him, as it was customary to his parenting style for his male children to dine with him. I remember you this day baba mi. RIP

After series of challenges after my father's death, I've things to tell him. There are many things he would have loved to see happen if he were to be alive today. He always wanted to educate his male children because he didn't get much of an education. He loved politics and football. Then I thought of writing a letter to him.


Dear sir,

This is your son, Micah. I'm writing to inform you of how we have been doing and more-- ever since your unprecedented departure to the place of beyond. Your dream of educating your 3 sons materialized: bro Nelson and bro Bolaji both attended University of Ibadan, while I attended AAUA. Your baby girls also did you proud as sis
Tope attended FCE(Akoka), Femi and Gbemi
attended AAUA; whereas Tolulope stopped at
secondary school level. Except myself and Gbemi, all other of your children are married with kids.

Your house has been renovated by your woman - my mother. She's a resilient and an industrious woman, whom with strong will and doggedness, carry(ing) all 7 of us(your children) through the crevices of life, without us sustaining even the smallest abrasion. Thanks be to God, and You were lucky to have married her.

I'm sure by now, you are re-united with your
immediate brother in the place of beyond.
Automatically, uncle Folusho is now the head of the family. Every other of your siblings are doing great. The orchestrators of your journey to the place of beyond are still walking the earth. Perhaps, if possible, you can remind
OLODUMARE(albeit He didn't forget) of justice
on the doers of the wanton malevolence that
sent you on a journey of no return to the place
of beyond.

In politics: Obama is the first ever black
American president, Goodluck Ebele Jonathan(GEJ) is now the 3rd democratically elected president of Nigeria, after Obasanjo and late Yar'adua. Mimiko the Iroko was re-elected in Ondo, which is our state of origin, while Fashola is working in Lagos where we live. There's a coalition of political parties against the ruling party- PDP. The polity is tensed right now, with the final showdown in the coming general election next year. There is a sect called 'Boko Haram'(meaning: Western education is a sin)and the sect is waging war in the North East with thousands dead already since their insurgence begun.

The gang war in our vicinity between Bhanzy
Malola and the Don-brown miscreants has
exacerbated over the years. The fracas have
generated different dramatic and macabre
scenarios. The thug war later took a new turn when it appears that a newly installed local chief(called Bale) approached Bhanzy Malola, with a dubious plan. But Bhanzy refused to be a part of any nefarious plot and any racketeering related association with the Bale. Therefore, the Bale turned to the services of the Don-brown miscreants. But Bhanzy stood in opposition to safeguard the interests of his kins men and women, whose daily bread are on the line in the evil schemes of the Bale. People called on the police, but the corrupt nature of the police could not help matters. Bhanzy was butchered last year. Although he was a thug, but his death is a pain to all and sundry



In football: the Super(chicken) Eagles of Nigeria won the 2013 edition of the AFCON title, Spain has won it's first ever world cup, hosted in South Africa in 2010 and also won the European championship back2back, Germany won the just concluded world cup in Brazil. Messi and Ronaldo are the 2 best players in the world, but Messi have won the Ballon 'd' or 4x consecutively, can you imagine!

All along, life's tough, but we're still pushing on through using the boiling frog mentality. Rest well in the bosom of the Lord. Peace out.

Your son Micah

This is a true life story. So your contributions A̶̲̥̅яε welcome. All your suggestion and constructive criticisms are welcome as well. Thanks

Shortly after my father's death, I got enrolled into secondary school. I was just 12yrs old Ć that time. I passed through secondary school normally and has series of experience, two of which I will quickly share:

----> I was standing on the corridor and resting my hand on the railing with my friend one day during break time. I was in JSS3 Ć that time. Suddenly, somebody came in between us and rested his arms on both of us. Myself and my friend thought the person was George, a classmate. The person's arms were so heavy on our shoulders that we began to complain and abuse him without looking Ć his face because there was a football game going on on the field in the school compound.

We were unable to bear the weight of those arms on our shoulders, i began to twist the fingers. My friend on the other hand threatened to grab the person's balls if the arms were not lifted, in fact, his hand was already set to grab the balls. The fingers I was twisting felt too thick τ̅☺ be George's, so I turned around to look back...... Lo and behold; the person standing behind us turned out to be mr Olowolagba, our principal.....

-----> My second experience was in SS1. It was the period for Economics. So the teacher walked in and demanded we open our note book. As for me, I was 2 topics behind, so I knew I was in trouble. The first person in the front seat was the most beautiful girl in my class. She too was a topic behind syllabus. She was not shown mercy by the time beating started. So I knew from where I was seated that 'my own don finish'. If the most beautiful and loved girl in my class could be dealt with, what fate await somebody like me?

I can never forget these two experiences in a hurry.

Few years after my secondary school education, I fell in lövê with a girl. I loved her aπϑ she loved me too. But i wonder what love means: when
to love? how to love? whom to love? I i've
sampled different opinions but none could
satisfy my curiosity. Then i decided that love is
like an adhesive substance, when you touch it
once, it sticks like a name. But there are some
inescapable monstrous and social
circumstances such as family issues and the
likes, that can pollute a sweet, romantic and
promising relationship with sour ingredients.
Your folks may say that you are eating the
forbidding fruit and you should desist.



The vicissitudes of a love relationship can
sometimes put a situation in a state of topsy-
turvy, that a person might think he or she is in
a relationship and has sacrificed so much- but
only to realise that he or she has been polishing
the brass on the titanic all the while. Such a
revelation and experience if not properly handled could throw the victim(s) into the doldrums for an entire life time. Overcoming various lövê impediments could be a daunting adventure.



For me, Love is like a bucket full of water that has a small hole at the bottom of the bucket and a hose adding water from a tap. If the water
going out from the bucket through the bottom
hole is in the same proportion with the ones
entering from the tap, then the water level
would remain constant. But if the ones spilling is
much more or vice versa- you do the logical
reasoning! Love is a two way traffic thing that
needs to be cleared at both ends.



I loved her, and she loved me- even more than i
do her. We dated for five years. She had even aborted a pregnancy for me once. But our sweet love got caught up in the milieu of aqua cross current, and left us both with conundrum, and the only option- separation. We took it. I
initiated it and it was painful. Her white pap came from a black pot. She is pure Ć heart, gently in the spirits, but the painful ending to our relationship was that: she came from the family of one of the people suspected in the murder of my father..........

It was a school day. I was trying to collect a
bunch of keys from my mum on the stair case
in one of the school building. Suddenly, the
keys fell from my grasp, so I rushed down the
stairs to fetch them. When I did fetch them, the sun from the day cast a silhouette on the wall facing me as I bent to retrieve the keys, so looked up
and I was aghast and awed! I saw him, looking fresh and
clean. I could not offer my hand for a
handshake, but he looked like he would not take it even if I had offered it. His look was mean and dangerous that it left me speechless for a while...


Still aghast, almost to a faint point, I tried to muster something that sounded like his sobriquet, he was taken aback and looked at me
strangely. Then, I called him by his real name,
he denied it, saying: 'his name is Wale'.
I thought for a second, perhaps, my eyes were playing a fast one on
me. So I followed him through the balcony corridor,
watching him in awe and
surprise. He spoke briefly to a friend i never
knew, then he kept
walking, still, I followed him. I ran a little to catch up
with him, but it was as if I was running in a river, like something was holding me down, more succinctly, it was as if I was being slow-motioned by a remote control. I followed him till he took a corner to
climb down the stairs from the building. Before
he took the corner, he looked back at me,
and i was stunned! His expression was cold,
carrying loneliness and neglect....


Suddenly, I was
released from my slow-motion movement. So I sprint a little, I was jumping the stairs
just to catch up, but his movement was something I could not explain. It was as if he was being carried by a benign whirlwind. Students I met on the way were playing around and laughing with friends, but he was in no mood to stop and talk to me. By the time I finally climbed down from the last staircase out of the building and into the open, he was already lost in the crowd of pupils playing in the field...


That instance, I bent down and started crying, to the extent that I began to wail. Just then, somebody came from behind and tapped me on my shoulder, so I turned my head to see who it was. Amid the tears flowing in torrent from my eyes, I could see my mum, telling me to stop crying, but I wouldn't stop crying. She then gave me two mild slap on both of my cheeks. Like ripples, the slap sent wave of feelings into my brain
and things were now so clear that I could see my mum, my siblings, all hovered around me, in my room, all looking down on me on my bed.

So it was all a dream....


All I could deduce from this dream is that: since
his death, I seemed to have forgotten totally about him. I'm
so sorry my friend. I remember those days in secondary school, when I would bring my jotter-book to you to help me draw my favourite Mortal Kombat character. I remember when myself, Fryo, aπϑ George would go to your house to play
PlayStation. I also remember the
competitions on MK3. I remember I was the champion to beat and It was fun in those days.
The password you suggested to me when I wanted to open my first ever email account, which i am
still using for my various social network
accounts is the only souvenir of you that I have. I remember you this day old friend. We loved
you, but God loved you more. R.I.P Idowu
Babatunde, a.k.a. Fentigoor.

At the entrance of the school gate was Dr M.j. Akomolafe in his car going through security check. Then it was 5 minutes to 7am lecture, his lecture, and he happened to be a principled lecturer that NEVER appreciate students coming late to his class. On my sight and my colleagues just arriving at the gate, he stepped on the accelerator pedal, just to get to class before us. We too accelerated our leg-mousine, running like wild goose. We took the easiest shortcut beside the law LT so as to beat him in the race.
I have no doubt in my mind that Dr M.J. Akomolafe used to be a fan of Michael
schumacher, the retired German car racing
driver, because of the way he must have
skillfully manoeuvred his car at the sharp-bend
road along the Pioneer girls hostel to get to the LT before us. Aah! Come and see speed of the century! Even Usain Bolt would have to follow our trail.... Dr M.J too moved quickly out of his car as if controlled by a media remote controller. But before he could get out of his car, take his books and lock the door, we were almost at the entrance to the LT. Finally, we jammed at the entrance; it was like a sabre-rattling struggle. We pushed, pulled, squeezed, screamed, moaned, groaned. He didn't want us to enter, neither do we him. Lastly, he made his way in but prevented us from entering because it was already 7 O'clock.
This man is wicked o. Then, it was annoying but now its a funny experience.



That was my 100 level experience. My 2nd year wasn't that eventful, but in my 3rd year i put my popularity to a litmus test by vying for the post of president in my department. I never wanted to contest, but was persuaded by a friend and I LOST the election. I still wonder how I lost the election till date. Because I was course rep, a good one, with 70 other classmates behind me. I later realized that the eventual winner of the election had promised a girl the position of parliament speaker of the department. So she made sure the guy won by spreading malicious propaganda against me. After the election, the girl started exhibiting dictatorial tendency, even before the SRC(Students' Representative Council) was inaugurated, and she had not been elected as the speaker.



After my defeat at the election, i was selected via bye-election to represent the department as an SRC member at the faculty level, where I contested and won as the faculty speaker- a position I never saw coming. The girl on the other hand had all the pedigree in the world to emerge as the speaker of my department, even other equal qualified people from her level as constitutionally demanded that the speaker of my department must come from 200Level-300Level, while the president and vice president must both come from 300Level--400Level. People from her level could not match her wits- she was sound, confident, outspoken and truculent. but her lust for power was her only Achilles heel- a simple weak point. Such a person is dangerous to be entrusted with position a of power. As fate would have, I was selected as the electoral chairman, because of my position at the faculty. So the law of karma was at play, as another person was roused to confront her in the election. So she lost!



There at the faculty parliament, i was a JJC who didn't
know anything about being a speaker. On the
first day of our parliamentary sitting, i just sat
down in the chamber waiting for the plenary
session to begin, just then, a point of order was raised that i didn't observe the entrance
protocol. I was so embarrassed, that i had to
''waka'' back outside. The protocol was that: my
arrival would be announced by the mace-bearer, and every floor
members including principal officers would be
on their feet, i will then enter the chamber, take
my seat before anyone can take their seats.
Cool, isn't it?



It was there as speaker I understand that things happening in our main political arena today in Nigeria are precursor of what is happening in school politics. The president of my faculty knew that 99.9% of us in the parliament were first-timers, therefore, he pulled a trick. On the day I was inaugurated alongside my colleagues, I took pictures with my colleagues and importantly, with the president of the faculty, where he presented the Constitution of the faculty to me. After like 5 parliamentary sittings under me as speaker, the remaining 0.1% of us that was a returning honourable(Hon package as he was called) with experience attended the sitting. He had been absent from previous sittings. It was he that observed that the Constitution we were given was a doctored one-- All the chairmanship positions of all the committees at the parliament level belongs to the executive; the resultant effect of which will relegate the parliament to the proverbial 'toothless bull dog'.



Consequently, the president and the electoral committee chairman that inaugurated him with the alleged doctored constitution were both summoned before the parliament to come and tell their story. The president maintained that the constitution he gave to the parliament was the same he was inaugurated with and the electoral chairman could not remember what the constitution he inaugurated the executive with looked like. But after the inauguration, the president collected the constitution back from me, and gave it back to me at a later time, claiming that was the only constitution left and that he needed to make copies for his co executives and promised to send a copy to me as well. But as fate would have it, the picture I took with the president on the day of the parliament's inauguration, myself and the president shook hands and holding the constitution with the other hand facing it to the camera with the word 'EFFECT FROM 2008' boldly written on the front cover. But the alleged doctored constitution had no such inscription on the front cover. The matter was later swept under the carpet, because our administration was a fragile one and a litmus test, as the previous administration before us was marred with corruption. So any strong action like getting the president impeached might provoked the Dean of the faculty to entirely scrap the faculty's students' government.



Of course i wasn't a celibate priest, i had
encounters with the female gender. I wasn't a
bad ass player, but a fair one.
In a nutshell, I had fun and ugly moments while in school. I passed through it, and it passed
through me.

It was the final match of the football
competition. No 4 platoon were one goal down
to no 1 platoon and the match was few minutes from
time, and at the same time it was almost 6pm.
Normally, once it's 6pm in the NYSC camp, a trumpet-like instrument will be sounded, and all activities must halt;
but would resume afterwards. But that
temporary pause in activities would kill the
tempo of the game and lessen the pressure with
which no 4 platoon were attacking their
opponent. As the game continued, no 7 jersey
for no 4 platoon made a good cross, deep into the goal area of no 1 platoon, to no 11
jersey, who in turn controlled the ball perfectly
and swiftly dribble passed his marker, in
preparation to launch a thunderous strike into
the back of the net. Meanwhile, the
biggler(a soldier with the sound instrument) had already stood at attention,
with the biggle
already in his mouth, only for him to send
mammoth breath into it to signal the sleeping
time for the Giant of Africa. Just in that nick of
time, no 11 jersey sent a strike goal-ward but the ball it
was parried by the goalkeeper. Then a defender
for no 1 platoon rushed to clear the ball away from danger zone, but he rang the bell(gbagaun). This gave no 11
jersey another chance to try again. This time, he
didn't miss... As the crowd prepared to roar in
jubilation, just then the biggle sounded......
Everything paused: the goal scorer, his fellow
players, fans, the ref, even the women at
mammy market, everything that has breath
came to a standstill(except for some animals
roaming around sha. Lol)


Before then were interesting activities like:
singing competition,
dancing, cooking, debate, drama, fashion contest, comedy and
so on. Of all the 10
platoons competing on camp, no10 platoon
were the best from behind. Always 10/10 in
every competition.
As for the food on camp, it was all 'crap'. We were always given tea in the morning because of the cold weather. The Iseyin camp is always cold during batch B. Only Sundays food were different and its because of the jollof rice and tiny
chicken legs. As for me, I love beans more than anything. Anytime its beans that is being served, I don't bother going to join the queue, I will just go straight to the kitchen- the kitchen women knew what I wanted.


The soldiers and some who were also platoon instructors among them
were not too harsh, but friendly and funny. On a particular incident in which my platoon officer said my platoon should only compete with jollof rice on camp fire night, when other platoons we preparing different foods. The soldiers stood in our support, that we should cook whatever dish we think can make us win the competition- after all, the money for the whole cooking was contributed by all of us in my platoon, and the money was over 100k. So why should we compete with only jollof, when the camp fire night was the last competition and the last day on NYSC camp
camp.


The camp fire night was fun. I participated in the cooking contest. I wonder how a group of people who called themselves judges could choose a winner in a cooking contest where different saliva-inducing meals will be competed with. I found their judgement hard to be valid. No7 platoon eventually won. market
was full to the brim. The camp fire furore was later shifted to mami market. Mean while, the camp commandant had sounded a not of warning earlier in the morning against any unholy act during the camp fire night. But boys will be boys. A lot of serious 'ghenghen' went down, in fact, right inside one of the boys hostel. I later heard that some of the boys and girls where caught and decamped. The son of Asiwaju Tinubu was in the same camp as well, and he ensures there were lot of drinks flowing in torrent around him.