[quote author=amofah1 post=89865989] wow! My friend stayed around there too she's called Amarachi, we both attended st.mary's school opp stella maris.the name sounds familiar am trying to picture the face it's been long

Too many to remember but one time I was locked outside for the night and I never liked to eat so that some nights I spent whole evening sat at the dinner table until I eat.

daddytime:
Lol...



How many man wan remember?

If I nack una tory of my experiences as a hawker ehn?

That river killed someone i know while growing up. And it's this type of of play with friends that took him there and he drowned.

[quote author=bellina715 post=89895712][/quote] okay this is here photo if it can help u remember.

amofah1:
okay this is here photo if it can help u remember.

yes I know her but I barely talk to people

ugolinze123:
At 16 came back from school one afternoon..there's this vcd plate a friend gave me in school to help him keep, thought twas a normal film..o boy na so I see big yansh on top big prick...nepa come take light, I couldn't go out. Was restless, the useless Nepa come bring light when mum send me message. Immediately I heard up nepa. I knew am done for...na my mama come dey find me because I couldn't go back home...my eyes see when that midnight...

Lies

daddytime:
Lol...

So many tori...

Childhood memories sha, very nostalgic...

Back then, my childhood friend Chijioke and I will often sneak down to the river in my hood. ( Mgbuosimini river in Agip village) for those who are familiar with P.H.

On school days we'd sometimes go for a bath in the morning and usually make it back home to get prepped for our afternoon session school then (Community Primary School, Rumueme).

On this particular day, Chijioke and I had lost touch with our timing obviously gotten carried away with our swimming and fishing expedition, school time had passed, and the entire Mgbuosimini were out in search of us.

Someone had made a suggestion for the search party to check out the waterside because there was hardly any week a drowning incident wasn't reported at the river.

We were already out from the water and hurriedly dressing up to set out and make it to school on time (so we thought). However, looking up, we were faced with a crowd headed by my dad and Chijioke's dad ( Mr. Maduka a.k.a Papa Chijioke). Na so we weak like dodo. We were urged not to bother dressing up.

Pertinent to chip in that my mum had given birth a week prior, and this very day was the seventh day when the baby will be named.

Having ordered us not to bother covering our birthday suits, that was how Chijioke and I were made to make the long walk of shame from the water/riverside all the way back to our compound while Papa Chijioke turned our ordeal into one where he'd show his singing skills by ordering the other kids who had gathered around to sing along as they chanted " flog them like a nama, flog them like a thief, they are not Rivers men, flog them like a nama". Mind you, as the chants were going on, my dad and Mr. Maduka took turns in flogging anyone of us that was closer to them, no discrimination, and no one minded his child. Na proper community beating.

The humiliation had continued like that until we arrived in our compound.

Our usually bubbly "face me I face you" compound was eerily and unusually calm that I had started wondering if Chijioke's and my truancy could have been responsible for this.

The beating had stopped when we got home while Chijioke and I took our positions in different corners close to our respective entrances, of course, still in the nudity. I was hesitant to go into the house because I knew a second round of beating with a belt while I did the infamous pick pin was awaiting me.

While perched on the corner and thinking how "if only I hadn't listened to Chijioke to go to the river, I wouldn't be in this mess", my kid brother (Vic) had run up to me stuttering " Tita, Tita, baby die". I had asked him, "you say wetin"? Thinking it was one of those his usual blabbing's seeing how he was still learning to speak, and yet, he had repeated those same words " baby die". Only then did it all make sense to me. The anger with which Daddy allowed the whip fly and drop on my lean Lil frame plus the unusual quietness of my compound. Oh boy, na so I burst cry oh part 2. This time I was crying for what awaited me in that room.

When I couldn't hold it any longer standing outside with the mosquitoes, I had gone in to brace the last fight.

True to my initial thoughts, if una see beating wey I receive that night ehn....at a point, I almost believed I had a hand in my baby sister's death.

Husband and wife combine forces pour their anger on me sotey I come dey ask my sef weda na dem really born me.

Life....

How many man wan remember?

If I nack una tory of my experiences as a hawker ehn?

Bros share

ozonechrome:


That river killed someone i know while growing up. And it's this type of of play with friends that took him there and he drowned.

I'm so very glad that someone could at least corroborate my story.

Very silly risks we took growing up.

We'd jump into anybody of water we come across not minding what could be lurking down beneath it, or how deep it runs.

Worst one is when my parents beat me for carving a picture on the table with a knife. That beating seemed to last forever, they used many things to beat me with. But didn't beat me often.