For the past few weeks now, I've had
cause to feel weak and its really
telling on me. I couldn't even
differentiate between Victor (who was
smiling like a carrot because he was
impressing a fresher) and one of the
electric poles outside the common
room. If I had not heard his voice, I
would have walked right past him.
May God help me.
But then, brethren, I tell you the
truth: Fear old women and keep your
distance from them. Do not be
deceived by their frailty. Those peeps
are about the strongest persons in
the world. Has an old woman ever
held you by your belt? It would take
the grace of God to pry her fingers
from your belt. That was how one bus
conductor got himself into an
argument with a woman who looked
as if she was going to break the next
minute. The bone of contention? Just
10naira which the conductor was
supposed to give to her. Men and
brethren, the woman didnt argue
much. She just grabbed the guy's
belt and held him without saying
anything. The conductor couldnt hit
her because she was old neither
could he release himself from her
grip. Hehehehe. A well built man
could not remove an old woman's
hand from his belt. What would I
have done? Thank God the other
passengers prevailed and finally, the
woman opened her palms and let go.
As I walked away from the scene of
this 'kasala', I decided to always fear
old people. Its wisdom.
And so the rest of my day went very
well. I took my time to rest well
because I knew I we had no class. As
I sat discussing with some persons
outside, one of them suddenly said,
"not all that jitters is cold." Ehn
ehn? I just walked inside the room to
rest. The worms in my stomach
needed no more provocation. Even at
that, the incessant laughter of one
sister stopped me from resting. I had
to get up and snatch her phone from
her. Then I saw why she was shining
her teeth. One guy was chatting with
her and he sent, "ARE YOU
MARRIAGE?" What?! I simply helped
her reply, "No, I am wedding."
Mtcheew. Please, some guys should
stop falling our hands. Amen?
As my day drew to an end, I I
decided to join one fellowship in
praying for the new semester.
Everyone needs prayers, you know.
That was how they invited an Ibo
sister to come lead us in worship.
This was someone who liked to form
British accent oh. In fact, I have
personal beef for her. And so she led
us in 'warchip' whilst murdering her
own native songs. She was like:
"Email, email her. Email her, Jehovah
mail her. Ayinekele gymnastic email
her, email her. Jehovah mail her."
There and then, I made up my mind
never to sing that song again.
Goodnight.
**alights from bus, adjusts shoe lace
and begins trekking towards house.**
culled

Could you please stop copying my stories off of my page without proper attribution? I really would appreciate it. Thank you.