©®All Right Reserved to the author -Abdullahi BOLAJI

Due to the versatility of the book the main book will be published in sequel in my blog to enable you read also but it will be copy right protected. No copy and Past enable.
Start Date: 27th January 2018
The excerpts will be posting here. But the real book will be on the blog due to privacy policy.

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Is there not a way the soft copy of the book can be gotten in all at a time?

Princiology:
Is there not a way the soft copy of the book can be gotten in all at a time?

PRINCIOLOGY

If you get the soft copy it will be plagiarism. What we only got that permission

EPISODE 1: THE LETTER

My name is Aliya. I am the only child of my parents. I turned 16 last month, two days before my end of term examinations. I had waited so eagerly for that day to come. When I was 14,1 read a book titled 'Sweet Sixteen', which made me realise that at 16, one is no longer a child but a young adult. For as long as I can remember, I had always hated to be called a child.

To me, child means the same as stupid. So, children's stuff never interested me. Instead, I found myself drawn to grown up things. I felt more comfortable relating with people who are many years older than me. My father thought this was because of my size. I am what you might describe as plus size. If you like, you could say I was plump or chubby; but never say fat.

I started wearing bras at 10 and at 14, I was already a size 16. My father would say, "Aliya, don't be deceived by your size, you are still a child and you should enjoy being a child."To this, I would counter that I was not a child, but an adult trapped in the body of a child. He would shake his head and give my mother a long stare, which I never understood. 'Young adult' therefore, sounded like a fair compromise between being a child, as my father would insist, and being an adult, as I would insist. My mother was a nurse. My father was, well, many things. At the time I was born, he was a journalist. When I was in primary school, he was working in a Public Relations agency.

He then went on to work for an international organisation that helps poor people in Africa. When I asked him what exactly his job in the organisation was, he said it was still some kind of public relations. The very day I turned 16, I was still in school. Even if I was home, I knew better than to expect any parties. My father believed that the only thing worth celebrating was a major achievement. In his eyes, a birthday was not an achievement at all. My mother said she agreed with him. I suspected she was just going along with her husband. For this, I have very strong evidence in the form of several photographs I had seen of her, standing all decked up behind birthday cakes. But to be fair, that was before she met and married Mr. Bello.

Whatever the case, birthdays were not a regular event in my home. My father even hardly remembered birthdays, including his own. Mummy however, would never, ever forget. She even...................................................................

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Next Episode coming soon

EPISODE 2

EPISODE 2
Well, maybe one was not  I still scored A in all other subjects, including Mathematics and Physics which most of my classmates struggled with, but I never scored higher than a C in Chemistry. As it happened, it was my first paper in this examination. There were two blocks of eight rooms in my hostel and there were four of us in each room.

We had ten bathroom cubicles, five for each block, so we took turns to have our bath. But this was not a problem. Usually, you only had to wait for one person to finish up. I took a quick glance at my bedside clock. I still had more than an hour before the assembly. Of my three roommates, one was about my age, even though she was slightly older. Her name was Grace.The other two were junior students. They had all wished me a happy birthday that morning. As I made my bed, Grace returned from the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her chest and another one on her head like a turban. I turned to her and asked, "Grace, did you feel anything? I mean when you turned 16, did you like, feel different in any way?" "No. It was like 14 or 15. Couldn't feel any difference, to be honest," she answered with a shrug. Grace was not a great talker.

It was as if someone was going to charge her for the number of words she used each time she spoke. Many people thought she was snobbish. But I knew she was a nice and generous person.

I wouldn't say she was my bestie, but we got along well enough, even though we were not in the same class. "But...," I started to say, but changed my mind. "Never mind,"I added. I knew Grace liked to be left alone. In any case, I thought I should rather focus on my Chemistry.

I had worked harder this term. And this was reflected in my continuous assessment results. .........................

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EPISODE 3

"A cute thing you've got there," he said as I hugged him. "Daddy, story, story," I said in a sing-song as we sat on one of the concrete benches that were arranged around a black and white chequerboard on the floor.

It was not really a board, but a raised cement platform on which giant black and white chess pieces mounted guards on opposite ends as if waiting for their marching orders. This was where students, mostly boys, gathered to play chess during the weekends. I told Dad how I got the teddy bear. "This boy, what is his name?"he asked, smiling.

"Bobo,"I answered. "Bobo, is that his real name?" "No, his real name is Tokunbo,Tokunbo Alabi." "Okay. Where do you thinkTokunbo got the money to buy this gift for you? Did his parents give him a special allowance to buy Valentine's gifts for girls?" I said no, I didn't think so. "So, could it be that Tokunbo took part of his pocket money to buy the teddy bear?" "Yes, most probably," I answered.

Dad got up slowly and walked towards the chess board. He picked up one of the pawns and moved it two steps forward.Then, he turned to me. "You see, Aliya, there is nothing wrong in giving or receiving gifts. But usually, especially in this kind of situation, when someone feels he has done you a favour, he would normally feel you owe him something. Sometimes, he could even, maybe, expect you to return the favour." He walked to the other end of the chess board and moved the knight. As he retraced his steps, he asked, "So, this boy, what do you think he wants from you?"

I said I didn't know. "He said he likes me. Maybe he wants me to like him back?" "So, do you like him back?"He moved another pawn. "N000," I answered, drawing out the '0' and shaking my head. The truth is I liked Bobo also. He was very funny, so I liked talking to him. But that was all.

I never thought of him as more than a friendly classmate. He was not as smart as Akin, but certainly not as rascally too. In that department, Akin was the clear gold medalist. Dad smiled broadly as if he knew more than he was actually saying. Then he came back to sit beside me..................

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EPISODE 4
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SWEET SIXTEEN JAMB EPISODE 4

Do not give things to people with the expectation that they will like you because of that. In the same token, when people give you things, it does not necessarily mean they love you."
He got up again, and walked up to the other end to counter the move he made earlier as his own opponent. He had tried to teach me to play chess. He said it would make me to think strategically.

He said the black and white pieces represent two armies ranged in battle, the mission being to capture the opponent's king. Well, I was not so interested in fighting any battles and certainly not interested in capturing any kings. But before he gave up on me, I had already known the names of all the pieces and how each of them moved.

I suspected he always chose this part of the school to meet with me so that he could play against himself as he was doing now. A group of students walked past us towards the hostel and said good afternoon to him. In my school, it was compulsory for every student to greet any adult they came across. He returned their greetings and picked up another piece, a castle, from the board.

"Do you know the kind of girls that most boys like?" "No,"I answered.
"Dumb girls. Boys like dumb girls." "Really,but I am not dumb," said, frowning.
"Of course. But this boy, e-r-r, what's his name, Bobo, does he know that? That you are not dumb?"
"He should. We are in the same class and I always beat him in exams." "Aliya, it is not all about exams. You can score A in all your subjects and Still be dumb."
"Daddy, I don't understand?"
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SWEET SIXTEEN 5

In actual fact, I only managed to sit through the class. F could not even recall a word of what was taught that morning; even though on a good day the Geography class could be terribly boring. I ran all the way to the principal's office and was still panting when I got there. To my pleasant surprise, the principal's face dissolved in a big smile the moment he saw me. He asked why I was panting. "Did you run all the way here?" I said yes. "Well, happy birthday," he said. "I guess your boyfriend has a special present for you this year,"he said as he brought out a gift box with a pinkish wrap and a bright red ribbon that had a full multi-coloured bow on top of it.

When he said my boyfriend, I knew he meant my dad.The two of them had forged some kind of friendship that I could not understand, especially as they had little in common, or so I thought. My dad was much younger than the principal, even though I didn't know the principal's exact age.The principal was Christian, my dad was Muslim.

My dad was Yoruba, the principal was Tiv. "Oh, my God!"I exclaimed as I collected the box. But it was not the gift that excited me so much, but the utter relief in realizing that all my fears were unfounded after all. "Why don't you wait until you see what is in the box before you get all excited,"the principal said. "No. Not that sir. I was so scared before I got here." "Scared of what?" "It was just unusual sir, me having to come to your office to pick up the card.

So, I was kind of afraid that something terrible might have happened." "To whom?  Your father? No. Nothing's happened. I still saw him yesterday. “The principal chuckled.  "Thank you sir. Thank God." "You are welcome and happy birthday!" he shouted after me as I practically hopped out of his office.

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niec pls keep it up, am a jambite but have not registered yet i would like to read the novel b4 i reg, thanks

noni14:
niec pls keep it up, am a jambite but have not registered yet i would like to read the novel b4 i reg, thanks

Okay

EPISODE 6

EPISODE 6: DRIVE


In the letter that my father wrote to me when I was 16, he recalled an interesting outing we had some years before. I was 12 at the time. I just returned home for holiday after my JSS 1. Even though we had had several of such outings since then, I remembered this particular one quite well. It was a cool Saturday morning, not much doing.

After a quick breakfast, I had climbed back into bed, looking forward to another lazy morning of rolling around and listening to music. I was about to plug in my earphones when I noticed a presence in the doorway.

"Aliya, are you alright?" It was my dad. He was still holding the door and I could only see half of his body. "Yes, Dad, I am fine. You want me to do something?" "No. I want to drive around and was just wondering if you would like to come along." "Of course," I said, dropping the earphone and jumping up from the bed.

"Are we going anywhere in particular?"I asked as I tried to figure out if I needed a change of clothing and what shoes to wear. "Not really. I think you are okay," he said, gesticulating to indicate that my outfit was fine.

I was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Chelsea Football Club jersey that had my nickname, First Lady, printed on the back. It was his gift to me when he returned from London some months earlier.

"I think that's fine," he said, pointing at the pair of sandals I had just picked up from the floor. I was actually divided between those and the Nike trainers on the shoe rack. By this time, he had come into the room and sat on the bed. He watched as I stood in front of the mirror, trying to arrange my hair.

You are going to be worse than your mother," he said with a broad grin. "Come on, let's go." "Daddy, I am a lady, I have to look good," I retorted with a smile as I applied some lip gloss.

Where is the lady? You are a child!" "I am not a child. I am a lady,"I protested. "You are a child". "I am a lady". We continued this way as we walked down the stairs and we soon started .....................

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EPISODE 7

Sometimes, it was the only way the next meal could be guaranteed. "But it was in spite of that experience that I got to where I am today. Thanks to education. I believe if those girls are able to get good education, they too can climb out of poverty and even become important people in the future."

We got to a junction, he made to turn right, and then he changed his mind and turned left. The car behind us blared its horn in protest and daddy raised one hand in apology. It was a pointless gesture though, because the rear window of our car was tinted. "For you..." he continued. "You are of a different background.

Your story is different. But don't ever take what you have for granted. Ordinarily, we should expect that you would end up better than those girls at the traffic light. But you know what, darling? It does not follow.

You also have to work hard, if not harder, because it is easier to climb up on an empty stomach than a full one. You know what that means?" "Yes, I do, “I answered. "Sometimes, hunger is what you need to drive you ahead in life.

I don't mean food hunger alone; I mean that deep desire to improve your condition in life and be a better person. That type of hunger was what most of us, children of poor parents, had. Unfortunately, after we have achieved success, we are not always able to pass the same hunger to our own children."

As we approached Aunty Gigis, a popular fast food place, he asked if I would like something to eat or drink. I said I wouldn't mind. We stopped and got ice cream and orange drink. We returned to the car and continued to drive around. By then, the traffic had begun to build up slightly.

It was approaching noon, and I could see many elegantly dressed people, some of them tightly packed in different cars, the number plates said, 'About to Wed. It made you wonder if all the people in those cars were the ones going to marry themselves.

But then you would see another car with ribbons and balloons flying around on the roof and you knew that was the one carrying the bride and the groom. I greatly enjoyed seeing all these, the hustles and the bustles. Daddy and I went on to discuss a lot of other things.

When we returned home shortly before one o'clock, Mum still hadn't come back. At the time, I didn't think any of the things we talked about meant anything more than random conversations. But here he was in this letter, telling me that the casual drive on that Saturday morning was deliberately arranged by him just so that we could have some of those very discussions I thought were random.

Can you imagine? I blurted out to myself as I sank further into the bed. I propped my head up with a pillow and settled to read more. "A few days before the day we went for that drive, your mother informed me that you had seen your menstrual period for the first time.

I was not sure how a father was supposed to receive that kind of news. I was a bit anxious as I wondered what responsibility this new phase of your Life imposed on me. I knew I had to have a conversation with you sooner or later, but I was not sure how to approach it or even what to talk about. After trying several approaches in my mind, I decided that the best way to go about it was to make the conversation as informal as possible. If I was able to make it look unplanned, there was a good chance that you would be relaxed and be in a proper frame of mind to understand what I was really going to say. Even then, I did not know how to start the conversation until we got to the ice cream place. That was my opportunity" I remembered everything now When we stopped at Aunty Gigis, I had ordered a combination of vanilla and chocolate ice cream. He ordered fresh orange juice. As we walked back to the car, he asked me, "Do you know that sugar affects some women during their menstruation?" I had paused for a second, wondering what that was about.
"No, I don't,"I answered in-between mouthfuls of ice-cream. "Well, he began, "what do you know about menstruation?" "Mummy and our hostel mistress have taught me how to menstruate," I answered, even though I did not feel that was something I wanted to talk about. I was even taken aback when he looked at me and burst into laughter. "Why, what's... funny?" "No, nothing," he answered as he tried to calm down. "I am sorry. It's just that, no one needs to be taught how to menstruate," he said. "Mummy and the hostel mistress must have taught you how to take care of yourself when you see your period." I recalled feeling a slight embarrassment after that. Now, he-wrote in his letter that the ice cream actually provided him the opportunity he needed to start the conversation he had planned all along. "The ice cream helped me to break the ice," he wrote. I recalled that most of the conversation centred largely on issues around sex and things................................

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EPISODE 8

Also, no one gets pregnant from a handshake," he said and laughed at his own attempt at a joke. I didn't find it funny though. "I know, Daddy. I am not stupid." "What do you know?" "Daddy, I have heard 'sex' before,"I said and rolled my eyes at him. "What? You have had what... ?" "Come on, Daddy. I mean heard, as in heaaaard,"I said, pulling at my ear.

"Phew!" We burst into laughter and he held his chest, saying he almost had a heart attack. "But... tell me, how did you know about... sex?" he asked. "Of course, everywhere.

On TV, from some of my classmates... it is also in some books, magazines... whatever." "Which magazines?" "Well, like Cosmopolitan," I answered as I bent to pick up the plastic bag to dispose of my empty ice cream cup. 'And where did you get that... Cosmopolitan?" "I found some copies in my Auntie Molara's room after she left for school, I said.

I regretted this immediately. Maybe I shouldn't have said it. I didn't want to put anybody in trouble. Auntie Molara was my mother's younger sister. She was in the university, but she stayed with us during the holidays.

I liked her a lot and always looked forward to having her around. "But you know some of these things are meant for adults only and you should not really be reading them," he said in a low and sober voice. "I will have to talk to your mother about that." "I am sorry, Daddy. I will not read that kind of stuff again."

He did not say anything. He still looked upset. "Ha-Ha, Mr. Bello, I said I am sorry," I tried to put an arm around his shoulder. "You better don't get us killed," he said and smiled as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. He seemed to like it when I called him Mr. Bello. I called him that whenever I wanted to get him to do something.

Mummy sometimes even got jealous that I was able to succeed with him where she had failed to get him to do some things. "Daddy, I hope you're not angry with Auntie Molara? It was not her fault. She didn't even know I took the magazine." He shook his head and said he was not angry with my aunty.

He would only tell her to be mindful of what she left lying around. "Sex is everywhere these days, sad to say," he lamented. "All over the place. Even commercials and advertisements do not appear complete nowadays without the trash... I heard that even some children's cartoon now contain references to sex. Or even these things that you call Hannah Montana, High School Musical or whatever..." "Hannah Montana? That's like, a zillion years ago. Besides, nobody watches TV anymore these days,"I said.

What do you mean, nobody watches TV anymore?" He asked, looking genuinely curious. "You can download and watch everything on Netflix..." what is Netflix?" "You don't know Netflix?"I was surprised. "No. Never heard of it,"he said. "Daddy, how would you not know Netflix? They stream videos online. They were the ones who did House of Cards." "What? You have watched that? "He sounded genuinely horrified. "Hmm, kind of," I answered cautiously.

"What do you mean 'kind of'?" "Daddy, I know what you are worried about. But I don’t  watch those things. Whenever I see that it is getting like that, I just fast forward it. He looked frustrated and worried at the same time.   'This is on the computer in the study? Or, do you have access to another one that I am not aware of?" "No. It is just that," I answered wondering if I had  not put myself in another trouble.

You see, Aliya, your mind is like a beautiful room. You have to be careful what you let in. And am not just talking about sex All sorts of Vulgarity, bad language, violence, they are all as bad. Watching those those is like dragging filth into your beautiful room.  You have to avoid them. I mean your mother have a duty to guide you, but we cannot be monitoring you all the time. He did not sound as upset as I feared.

I hated to make him angry for any reason. I also liked the example he gave about a beautiful ........................

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EPISODE 9

WORK
It wasn't until a week after I returned home from school that I finally got Daddy to sit down with me. I thanked him for the camera and the letter. I also told him that there were parts of the that I did not quite understand and would like him to explain further. He nodded and said he had expected this.

It was a Saturday morning We just had our morning prayers. I went down to the kitchen to make tea. Mum liked to boast that she was the only one who knew how to make her Husband’s tea. I once challenged her and insisted on making Dad’s tea. He took a sip and said it was really good. Mum took one look at the tea and said that couldn't be true, that he only said that to make me feel good. "Too much milk," she said.

It turned out that she was right. About an hour later, I went to clear away the tray but the tea was still there. It had gone cold, with the milk congealed on its surface to form a pattern that looked like the map of someplace. I doubted that he went beyond that first sip he took in my presence.

I asked him why he didn't drink his tea, and he said exactly what Mummy said earlier, that the milk was too much. Even then, I didn't give up. But all my subsequent attempts ended the same way. If the milk was not too much, the sugar would be too much or too little, or the tea itself would be too flat, and so on.

One day, Mum took pity on me and said, "Aliya, you better stop wasting your time and let me show you the secret." I asked her to show me. She laughed and asked how much I was willing to pay her for the coaching because she stood a great risk of losing her husband to me if she showed me how to make his tea.

I said I would ask my dad to pay her. "That one? He has Araldite in his hands. He won't pay," she sneered. She said the first thing to do was to ensure that the water was gently brought to a boiling point. She said it was always better to use the kettle, because if I used a pot, the water would lose most of its oxygen, and oxygen was important. I wondered what that meant.

She said I would add two tea bags to the mug. Everyone had their own mug in our house. Even though they were the same size, Daddy's mug was blue, Mummy's was red and mine was orange. We had other colours and sizes, but those were for guests. I recalled once Mummy and Daddy were standing in the kitchen, and Mummy was complaining about something.

Then Daddy held up her mug in response to whatever she was saving, without uttering a word. This got Mummy even more upset and she said, "Oh, you are saying it is my cup of tea, right?" They could be like that sometimes. The tea bag would go in the mug first, then I would pour the boiled water over the tea bags and leave it to brew for about five minutes to draw out the flavour. After that, I would add two cubes of sugar.

As for the milk, even though she did not need any measurement to get the quantity right, she said I should add only five teaspoons. After three attempts, I became an expert in the chemistry of making Daddy's tea.

If I got it right, the tea would have a golden colour and it would taste almost too strong for me. But that was how he liked his tea. Since then, I had taken it upon myself to make his tea whenever I was home. That Saturday morning, I made his tea and made hot chocolate for myself. When I got to his door, I shouted for him to open up.

As I walked in, he grabbed his tea from the tray. A small glass table sat between two single chairs. He hurriedly cleared the table, but there was still a remote control on it, which tipped the tray to one side as I set it down on the table, almost upturning my beverage. He reached swiftly for my mug and lifted it off the tray.

"Thank you," he said as he took the first sip at his tea. "You have now mastered this thing," he said. I grinned and said thank you. The two chairs at the foot of the bed normally faced the television screen on the wall. He had rearranged them that morning to face each other. "Yes, I am ready for the interview," he said jovially as he sank into the chair. "That reminds me. Daddy, I don't think I want to be a doctor anymore.

I think I want to be a lawyer,"I said as I sipped at my drink. If he was surprised, he did not show it. When I was about to enter the senior class, he asked me what career I would like to pursue in future. At that time, I was so sure that I wanted to be a pilot. I liked their smart uniforms and the freedom to travel around the world.

Then there was a plane crash that killed so many people and I didn't want to................

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well done

EPISODE 10

But now, I didn't think I wanted to be a doctor anymore. I hated the sight of blood. Then, I found John Grisham's books in our library. Since I started reading them, I began to think that maybe I should be a lawyer. "Is that a way of solving your Chemistry problem?" he asked "Nope," I said.

Oh, you have not seen my results?" I set down my mug and ran to my room to get my third term results. He hardly bothered to check my results. I believed he just took it for granted that I would do well. "Guess what I got in Chemistry,"I said as I got back to the room. "Well, I can guess that it was much better this term, giving that you look all excited,"he said. I handed the results to him.

What? How did you do it?"he said, obviously impressed. "I just worked harder, that's all,"I said, feeling good with myself: "I told you. I always tell you. There is nothing you cannot do if you set your mind to it.You see now?" Even I was surprised when I got my results and I saw that I got an A in Chemistry.

He studied the results closely as if he was looking for something. Then he put the results sheet on the tray. "Good job. Welldone." "Thank you, Daddy. But it was difficult. Just like Further Maths." "Well, you have proven to be up to the task. Like I have always told you, there is only one way to success, and that is the way of hard work.

There are no shortcuts. I am proud of you. I am delighted that you finally got the results that you deserve. But I am more impressed with the efforts that you have put into it; the determination, the hard work. Sometimes, these are more important than even the results." "Thank you, Daddy.

You know, when you said there is no short cut, you reminded me of a girl who cheated in Physics. I saw her copying from a piece of paper." "What now happened?" "Nothing. It's like I was the only one who saw her. Of course, it was none of my business. She got away with it. That's her luck." "That was not luck. My father would say that it was better to die in poverty than to be a prosperous thief. I guess the same thing applies here.

It is better to fail and fail and fail and keep on trying than to cheat and pass. Sooner or later, her dishonesty will catch up with her. Passing an examination is never enough in life." "She knew I saw her. After the paper, she came to me looking embarrassed. She thanked me for not exposing her and said she was not proud of what she did. I asked her why she had to do it. She said her parents would be mad at her if she didn't do well.

She said they were always comparing her with her younger sister, which makes her feel bad. I wonder ii'she cheats in other subjects too." "Well, that still did not justify what she did." "Of course, it didn't, and I told her that. But Daddy, I also think that her parents were wrong to make her feel that way. I mean, it is not nice to be comparing people like that... well, thank God that I don't have a sister.

Yes, and why that?" "Why what?" "I mean,why don't I have a sister, or... a brother?" "Well, God knows I love you so much and He doesn't want me to share the love with anyone else, that's why," Daddy said and laughed. "I mean...," he started to say again, then his phone rang. He picked it up and peered at the screen.

Hey, how you dey now?' He said in pidgin. Whoever was on the other side must have said something quite funny to which Daddy laughed so loud, showing all his dentition, which had been missing a canine since I was born. I could see a remnant of something he ate had been caught between his teeth. It must be the reason he had been working his mouth in a particular, funny kind of way, hoping the thing, whatever it was, would come off.

A simple floss or toothpick would have solved the problem. But I know Daddy could be like that sometimes. And I liked him whenever he was like that. Ordinarily, he seemed to be incapable of doing anything wrong. Instead of admiration however, his perfection only terrified me. But when he had food particle stuck between his teeth, or he missed a belt hole on his trouser, or spilled tea on his caftan, evidences that he was not perfect after all, I felt more comfortable with him. "Aba, what was I saying?" He asked as he flung his phone on the...............................

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EPISODE 11 SWEET SIXTEEN

He would counter by saying that the reason he did not want to share a room with her in the first place was that he did not want to compete for space with all her shoes and bags that seemed to be increasing by the day as if she was Imelda Marcos, the former first lady of Philippines, who was said to have owned more than 3000 pair of shoes.

Mum would insist that she was better than him, after all she didn't clutter her bed with her shoes and bags the way he did with his books. Even that morning, Daddy had a couple of books open, face down on the bed. He was the only person I knew who read several books at the same time.

By the way, it is time you read this book," he said as he returned to his seat with Gibran's book, The Prophet. When I first saw the book in the library, I thought it was about Prophet Muhammed. But Dad said it was not, and that I should read it myself someday. He ruffled through the pages slowly, his eyes darting left and right.

He soon found whatever he was looking for. "Here, read, from 'Your children . ."Fie pointed out the spot he wanted me to read from. I read aloud, slowly. "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters ofLfe's longing for itself.

They come through you but notfrom you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday." I flipped the page to continue, but he stopped me. "That will do, for now. But do you understand what he is saying?" he asked. "This Ka-hl-il Gibran is a very wise man," I said, struggling to recall the first name.

I had to quickly check the cover again, to get it right. "I think I now understand why you always sound like you know everything. It must be these books that you read." "Aww, c'mon, Aliya, nobody knows everything," he said, laughing as he waved off the compliment. "In fact, the more you know, the more you realize what you don't know.

But you are right.There is so much wisdom in books. Through a single book, you could experience many lifetimes and many worlds. When I think of the generation of my parents, I feel sorry for them. Most of them did not have the opportunity to go to school, so they never learnt to read. Can you imagine, so much knowledge everywhere, yet some people cannot access them. This is why I even fear for your generation.

Most of you can read, but you do not read. Very sad. Instead, many of you waste your time liking up yourselves on Facebook instead of reading real books. I shouldn't be surprised though. Many years ago, Albert Einstein predicted this moment. He said a day would come that technology would surpass human interaction and the world would have a generation of idiots. I think we are there now." "But I am not an idiot,"I protested. "Of course, you're not. And that is why we are having this conversation. But you must never stop reading and learning.lhat is the point."

Yes, I understand," I said with a nod. "But what did Gibran mean by 'For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams'?" "I think he meant that parents should not try to determine the future of their children, much ofwhich they-will not be a part of.

He also seems to be saying that life keeps changing and the world .....................................
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EPISODE 12
The Gandhi Test
Two bright orange sofas and two green single chairs formed a semi-circle against a large window that could easily pass for a door if it had been downstairs. A big television screen perched on the opposite wall in permanent sleep. Even though it was called the family living room, it was the most underused part of our house.

Hardly anyone ever sat there. The house was another reason I had suspected that my parents did not plan for me to be an only child. Why would they build a house that big otherwise? Certainly, five bedrooms and three living rooms could not have been originally intended for a family of three.

On one side of the wall was a huge mahogany cabinet with decorated glass doors. It held tiny memories of Dad's many travels around the world. A young Arab boy riding a camel and a crystal Bud Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, from Dubai; a Maasai couple from Nairobi; Eiffel Tower from Paris; Ijambulo, the lion cub, from South Africa; two hand-painted ostrich egg shells from Tanzania; the pyramids and the Sphinx from Egypt; the Tower Bridge and the bright red telephone booth from London; the Statue of Liberty from New York and several others. For every country he visited, Dad ensured he brought back something. Mum and I had also made important contributions to what Daddy called his museum of mementos, even though we did not travel as much.

Mum was responsible for the decorated plates, which she got from China; and I, the soft camel with a jingle bell that I bought when we travelled to Dubai some years before. Daddy had suggested we moved to the living room. Mummy peeped in about an hour earlier to say breakfast was ready. He did not like to eat in his room. He said it would leave the place smelling of food. He also said he did not feel like going down to the dining area. I followed Mummy down to the kitchen to bring some of the food upstairs in a tray.

It was a simple meal of akara, bread and a bottle of Coke. That was his favourite weekend breakfast. He would tear open the loaf of bread and stuff two or three akara balls into it. He would close it back and squeeze tight to crush the balls into the bread.

He would say he was making an akara bugger. Mummy would tease him and say, "You can take the man out of the village, but you cannot take the village out of the man." He would respond with an indifferent shrug and say, "Na you sabi, city girl." Mummy was of a different background from Daddy. Her parents were middle class and relatively comfortable.

She attended a Federal Government Girls College, while he attended the village secondary school. She had a degree in Nursing from a University in the UK, while he went to university in Nigeria. They met when he was writing a story on road accident victims as a cub reporter. She was a young nurse working in the Accident and Emergency ward of the hospital. He told me that at the time they met, he had only a pair of jeans and two shirts.

She also earned more salary than him. But even the meagre salary he earned would not be paid, sometimes up to three months. It was however, a case of love at first sight for the two of them. They got married about a year after they met. "Now, what were you saying?" Daddy asked in-between mouthfuls of akara burger.

Crumbs of akara and bread fell on the floor and he bent to pick them up into the tray. "In your letter, you said I should always try to do the right thing. And... you also said if I was ever in doubt about right and wrong, I should apply the Gandhi test. So, what is the Gandhi test?" "Have you ever heard of Mahatma Gandhi?"He asked.

Yes, he was once President of India; he had these Harry Porter glasses," I said and formed two zeroes around my eyes with my hands. "I wondered why he went around in a white bed sheet though. Was he so poor?" Dad laughed.

"Gandhi could have made all the money he wanted if he was so inclined. But he chose to live a life of poverty to demonstrate that a human being does not really need much to survive. A contented person is a very rich person. Also, ....................
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Ugobestikyblog:

Yes, he was once President of India; he had these Harry Porter glasses," I said and formed two zeroes around my eyes with my hands. "I wondered why he went around in a white bed sheet though. Was he so poor?" Dad laughed.

Gandhi was nothing, neither a President nor a Prime Minister, in fact not even a mayor. He was a British law student turned freedom fighter. He had good intentions but his belief in pacifism and values was more than stupid. Even British sidelined his protests calling them minimal. He was just over glorified and given with credit of other freedom fighters by Indian National Congress party because he was their member.

The actual credit is for SC Bose who mobilized & assembled Indian Royal army into rebellion. British empire had only 40k soldiers left in India after World War 2 and Indian soliders we're enraged enough to eviscrate them. That's why they left India and many other similar countries.

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EPISODE 13

Dating
Daddy had finished his Coke now and was lying on the sofa, his head propped up with one of the throw cushions. "You, are you not going to eat? Madam lawyer." "I am okay with the chocolate for now, I will eat later," I answered. At that moment, I had something more important on my mind than food. All the other questions I had asked him were easy enough and straightforward.This one, I didn't even know how to start.

Daddy, you know I am 16," I said matter-of-fact. It was a rather foolish way to start. Of course, he knew I was 16. He was trying to turn on the TV on the wall with a remote control.The TV refused to come on. He turned the remote control over in his hand, slapped it against the other hand and pointed it towards the television again. When it refused to come on still, he opened the battery case of the remote control and took out the two batteries. One of them dropped and rolled towards me. I picked it up and handed it to him.

He muttered a thank you, re-inserted the batteries and replaced the cover with a noisy clap. "Now, I command you to come on," he said to the TV as he pointed the remote control at it again, like a magician waving his wand. But still the TV refused to yield, looking black and dead like those television sets I once saw at a market in Lagos. Big Mummy said they were called 'No Testing'.

Even though they were very cheap, you were not allowed to test if they actually worked before you buy them. She said, sometimes one might get lucky. But more often than not, one would have ended up paying to bring a piece of junk into one's house.

I couldn't see the sense in that. "Maybe the batteries are dead," I volunteered, trying hard to hide my irritation. Here I was, about to ask the most important question of my life. Yet, all that this man cared about was his television. "I hope it is just that," he said. "Anyway, what were you saying?" he said as he laid back on the sofa, placing the remote control on his chest. "I should have some batteries in my room. You know we have a match this evening."

By "we", he meant Chelsea. He was a devout fan of the English football club. One evidence of his devotion was the fact that all the bibs that I used as a baby were branded with the club's logo. Mummy would often joke that she was surprised he did not name me Chelsea. In addition to the bib, almost all my first belongings on earth were blue and bore the club's logo. And this included my feeding bottle.

Mummy said she complained vehemently at the time that blue is a boy's colour, but Daddy would not be deterred. All of the artifacts of my Chelsea childhood were still held in a box in the pantry. I had come to like Chelsea myself Perhaps, that was inevitable. Mummy would say I was a Chelsea fan by genetic engineering.

She was not really keen on football. I was also not so emotionally committed like Daddy. But we would always pray for Chelsea to win so that Daddy would remain in good mood. I recalled on one occasion, he actually refused to eat because they lost a game. I remember, it was a Champions league final against Manchester United. Several days after the match, Daddy was still bemoaning his team's defeat, talking about how Drogba would have scored a penalty if he didn't get a red card for slapping an opponent.

I prayed that Chelsea would win that day so that Daddy would still be in a frame of mind to answer my remaining questions. Especially, this very burning question: "Daddy,"I said, "you know now I am 16." "Of course, how can I possibly forget that you are no longer a child but a young adult,"he answered and laughed. "Daddy, be serious now,"I said, squeezing my face at him. "But I am."

Okay,I mean now that I am 16,1 am old enough to date, right?" "Date. What is that?" He asked and sat up slowly. He scratched his neck and suddenly became interested in the remote control again. I knew my father. I was sure he understood exactly what I was asking him. But if he didn't have a ready answer to your question, he would pretend not to understand, so as to buy himself time. "I mean, like... a boyfriend.

I can have a boyfriend now, can't I?" "Boyfriend? What does that mean?" he asked, looking straight into my........................
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EPISODE 14
"You see, Aliya, dating, boyfriend or whatever you call it, are not bad in themselves. But... okay, let me even start by saying that I appreciate that we are having this conversation. Okay?" He looked sort of nervous himself. He gripped my hands, gently but firmly. His touch felt reassuring and I could feel myself calming down.

He went silent for a brief moment as if he was thinking of what to say.Then he continued. "At your age, relationship between a boy and a girl is mostly ruled by one thing, infatuation. You know what that means, I suppose?" "Of course, I know the meaning of infatuation. Like you have a crush on someone, you think you love the person, but it is not really love." "You are right. That's largely what it is.

To add to that, I would say that infatuation is when you have exaggerated feelings towards someone in a way that is almost foolish. But such feelings are also often short-lived. While they last however, you would find that you were willing to do anything to satisfy the object of your feelings. You would want to be with that person all the time, and nothing else would seem to matter to you." "Wow, but that sounds like some kind of sickness." "Not exactly.

It is just that matters of the heart can be emotionally challenging for everyone, even adults. But it is even worse at your age; with hormones running riot, and you still trying to discover yourself. I seriously doubt that any teenager could enter into that kind of relationship and not be distracted from their studies. And anything that could distract you from your studies at this stage of your life brings your entire future into jeopardy. Do you know that?" I nodded.

Okay, let me ask you..." he continued. But I was already thinking about what he was saying. Was I infatuated with Bobo? A couple of times after I tried to return the teddy bear and failed, I caught myself thinking about him. But I told myself that I only wanted an opportunity for us to finish the conversation we started that day during prep.
I also wish I knew what he had wanted to say before we were alerted that the duty master was heading towards our class.

That was after I had told him I was not his girlfriend. Was he going to agree with me and just walk away? Or would he have persisted and tried to make me change my mind? After I learnt that he had relocated to Ireland without telling me, I was even angrier with myself that I did not shove his stupid teddy in his face back then and warn him never to talk to me again. However, after a while, I was not so angry anymore. In place of anger, there was this sadness, this loneliness that I felt, which I never knew was possible. For a while, I actually felt like he dumped me.

One day, I waited till everyone had gone for lunch and the hostel was quiet. I brought out the teddy and threw it in the waste bin by the hostel gate.

Almost an hour later, when I was going to class for the afternoon prep, I had to walk past the bin. I could see one of the teddy's legs sticking out, the rest of its body obscured by some stale bread, torn papers and a box of cornflakes.

I looked away. But at that very moment, the teddy came alive in my heart. I couldn't just leave it there, discarded and helpless. It was the first gift I got that was not from my parents and that I did not win as a prize from school. And the person that gave me that first gift was Bobo.

Even though I disliked him now, it would not be fair to punish the teddy for what Bobo did. I walked back to the bin and glanced around to see if anyone was looking. I did not see anybody. I hesitated for a while, trying to convince myself that it was just the teddy that I liked and not that I still cared for Bobo. Just then I heard footsteps approaching the gate. No more time to waste. I would save the teddy.

I was sure this had nothing to do with Bobo. I dragged the poor thing from underneath the pile of rubbish and ran back to my room. I chucked the teddy inside my wardrobe, promising myself I would give it a thorough wash on my return from prep. "Aliya, what are you thinking so much about?" Dad's voice jolted me back to the moment.

He had been talking all along. It must have taken him a while to realize that I was lost in my own thoughts. "No... nothing. Just thinking about what you were saying." I stammered in response to his query. "I asked you a question earlier though?" "Yes, sir, you did. I am sorry, I ......
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SWEET SIXTEEN EPISODE 23: BEAUTY CONTD
my face with the edge of my cardigan. He stood up from the chair and tames to sit beside me on the bed. He grabbed my hand and squeezed gently. 'Are you okay now?" "Yes, I am...fine. I am fine, “I said and managed a smile. "Aliya, I want you to listen to me.

I had no idea this was happening, but I totally understand. I'm with you on this and I promise you, I'll deal with it. Thank you for telling me." I sniffed and looked at his face. Sitting so close to me, I was struck by the resemblance between us. It always came as a bit of a surprise. For a moment, I almost felt like I glimpsed my own face in a moving mirror. "Thank you, Daddy." He drew back a little, so he could look directly at me.

"I remember another Gandhi quote: 'Nobody can hurt me without my permission’:That's what Gandhi said. 'Nobody can hurt me without my permission'." "Nobody can hurt me without my permission, “I repeated after him. "You see, my darling, no matter what you do, you would not be able to control how other people behave towards you. But you know what? You can control how they make you feel." "I hear you, Daddy, but it's so difficult when people just pick on you that way." "I know.

But I want you to know something else; how you feel about yourself is more important than how other people make you feel. You need to develop confidence in how you look. For me, you are the most beautiful girl in the world, “he said with a big smile. "I know you said that just to make me feel good,"I said, shyly. "Well, I guess that's miles better than saying something that makes you feels bad.

But seriously, when I said you are the most beautiful girl in the world that is in a manner of speaking. But there is no doubt that you are a very beautiful and exceptionally intelligent girl. Do not allow anybody to make you think any less of yourself." "But sometimes, I think maybe they are right. How come all the beauty contestants and the models are always like that? As in, tall and stick-thin? I mean, I have never seen a model that looks like me." He sighed and seemed to be thinking of what I just said.

"Well, Aliya, I want to assure you that what you see in the media is the media's representation of beauty, which is also rooted in some people's narrow idea of beauty. Reality often differs from what the media likes to present to us as standard. The only place I have seen everyone looking the same is in a can of sardines." I actually found that funny.

"People come in all shapes and sizes," he continued. "Fat, slim, tall, short, dark, fair, round, square. They are all beautiful. Everyone needs to embrace the way they look and should not allow anyone to ..... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/2019/03/13/sweet-sixteen-beauty-contd/

SWEET SIXTEEN FINALE
"Not really. A queen is treated like a queen because a queen behaves like a queen. Respect can only be commanded by self-respect. If a queen behaves like a tramp, she would be treated like one." "I guess you are right. I didn't think of that,"I said.

"You see Aliya, if you bought a new dress and throw it on the floor, people would be justified to use it as a rag and mop the floor with it. But if you have a dress, even though it is not so new, but you keep it clean and hang it in your wardrobe, no one would treat it like a rag, or dare to clean the floor with it. That is why the Yoruba say, 'Bi onigba ba se pe igba re, bee naa la maa ba pee'." I was still thinking about this when he said, "That girl, the one that you said was picking on you, what's her name again?" "Bunmi, that's her name,"I replied. "Bunmi, yes.

That's it. Why do you think Bunmi would be picking on you like that?" "I don't know.We are not even in the same class. Yes, we are in the same hostel, but we are not in the same room. I can't remember ever doing anything to offend her,"I said. I had also asked myself the question several times. Once, I even toyed with the idea of confronting her to tell me how I might have offended her. But I did not have the courage to follow through. The closest I came to understanding why she kept picking on me was when she said one day that I was rude because I thought I was better than everyone else.

True, I had finished almost every term with the best overall results. Everyone knew this because my picture was always on the notice board in front of the administration building. But I never thought I was better than anybody. Most of the time,I just kept to myself and did my thing. After a few minutes of silence, Daddy said, "You know, when people bully other people, its usually because they think those people are better than them in some ways or have something they cannot have. Come to think of it, can you pull down something that is beneath you? No. You can only pull down something that is above you.

Bullies are mostly driven by jealousy and a deep sense of unworthiness, an inferiority complex. They only feel better about themselves when they make you feel bad about yourself. So, back to where we started earlier, you must not give them that pleasure. Ultimately, what they do to you says more about them than about you." "Well, thank God she is gone now,"I said, heaving a sigh of relief. "Gone? Where did she go?" Daddy asked as he stood up, stretching a little.

"She has graduated now.You forgot I told you she was in SS3." "Oh, yes, I forgot that. But now that you are going to be a Senior yourself, you have to use your own experience to stand up for other children who may become victim to bullies." "You know, Daddy, I am going to be a prefect."
"Really? I didn't know that? Which prefect?" he asked almost excitedly. "Head Girl,"I said. "Wow.that' s good. Now, you would even be in a better position to help other students." "Of course. Daddy, I even want to donate something to the school clinic." "Like what?" "The Nebuliser.

We don't have any in the clinic, and there are so many asthmatic students, many of them don't have inhalers. One girl in our hostel nearly died last term because she suddenly had an attack and she didn't have an inhaler. She was lucky that I had one to spare. But I think if we have the Nebuliser, it can be used for everyone when that kind of thing happens." "That is very thoughtful of you, my darling.

Now, that's what I call beauty— making a meaningful impact in the lives of others." I laughed heartily, feeling very pleased with myself. "Daddy." "Yes, my darling." "I just want to thank you for everything you have taught me. I have learnt so much. You are the greatest father in the entire universe." "Universe? Not even world?" He laughed. He walked towards me and gave me a big hug. Then, he gently pushed me back. "Sit down, I want to tell you another story," he said as he also sat back on my reading chair. "Okay Daddy, I am ready. "Once upon a time..." "Time, time, time,"I chorused and we both laughed.

"Once upon a time, there was a hunter who lived in a remote village somewhere in Africa. One day, as it was his wont, he went on a hunting expedition, promising his family that he would come back with assorted game, so they could have a feast. However, after stalking the forest for several days and several nights, there was no game in sight. He thought that perhaps, if he went farther into the forest, he would get lucky. But the farther he went, the more tranquil the forest became, not a rumble or a....
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Goel:

Gandhi was nothing, neither a President nor a Prime Minister, in fact not even a mayor. He was a British law student turned freedom fighter. He had good intentions but his belief in pacifism and values was more than stupid. Even British sidelined his protests calling them minimal. He was just over glorified and given with credit of other freedom fighters by Indian National Congress party because he was their member.

The actual credit is for SC Bose who mobilized & assembled Indian Royal army into rebellion. British empire had only 40k soldiers left in India after World War 2 and Indian soliders we're enraged enough to eviscrate them. That's why they left India and many other similar countries.

british left you, because america frowned at colonialization and also because in 20 th century, economic exploit in form of companies and factories is more efficient than appointing a viceroy and a bunch of inhabitants.

china acquiesced as you seperated pakistan in 1970s because china was deep in culture revolution, and china was at a power grab with soviet for the big brother of socialist bloc. we had no time for you and left you do what you like in subcontinent. . and even till today, you indian thanked russia as a god and saviour. without the power distraction of russia, we china would not let you have a comfortable day in 1970s.

you indian have never won any war or driven any enemy away from india. you just suffer and bid the time till you are no longer the interst of the Powers and left to be safe.