The second edition of Akukom Competitions, Akukom Written Poetry competition has kicked Off Today.

The price for this edition is N10,000 and a "Creative" T-shirt to two winners.


For more information, visit https://akukom.com/akukom-written-poetry-competition-awpc/

You can also follow Akukom on Twitter/Instagram(@Akukom_), Facebook(@akukomstories)

TAG your Port friends.

All the best!!!

cc Obinnau, Divepen1

It's two days to the 2nd edition of the Akukom competitions.

Two poets will win stand a chance of winning N10,000 and A "Creative" shirt each.

For More details, Visit [url]Akukom.com/akukom-written-poetry-competition-awpc/[/url]

We are so glad to announce the second edition of the Akukom competitions. Our first edition, Akukom Story writing competition(ASWC1([url]akukom.com/tag/aswc1/[/url])) was amazing with Monkey Tail([url]akukom.com/monkey-tail-aswc1/[/url]) by Luper([url]akukom.com/author/luper/[/url]) and Ungagged([url]akukom.com/ungagged-aswc1/[/url]) by Amaka Okoli([url]akukom.com/author/theamakaokoli/[/url]) emerging the Judges’ and people’s winners respectively.

Akukom Written Poetry Competition (AWPC) promises to be interesting and the theme is “NIGERIA TODAY AND DEMOCRACY”.

Below are the details of the competition.

THEME: Nigeria today and democracy(You can use any title for your poem. The theme is what matters)

DATE: 28th of April-26th of May, 2019

PRIZE: N10,000 and a “Creative” T-shirt to 2 winners



THE PRIZE SHIRT



FOR MORE INFORMATION, VISIT [url]Akukom.com/akukom-written-poetry-competition-awpc/[/url]

cc: Divepen1, Obinnau

It's very very True.
He shares a lot of his stories on our website.

He has left Nigeria for the UK though

sligo:
Wow.... If all this are true then I hope one day wale applause will be my manager

Let me start by saying Talent Management is not a Job, IT IS A CALLING. Maybe Promotions is a job, but i repeat, Talent Management is not a job. My name is Olayinka Babawale Applause, I was Olamide Baddo’s PR for a bit before he blessed me with Lil Kesh just when he had just recorded Shoki. I will start by showing appreciation to every Blogger, Social Media PR, Dj, Alaba DJ, Alaba Marketer, Satellite and Local Tv stations, just everyone who was around at any point in time during the period of my 11 years stay in the industry.

Yes 11 years, i am sure you wondering why i quit. Smart people know when to move on.

As much as possible, i am not popular especially facially as i often get doubted whenever i introduce myself as Wale Applause, I guess i am a big man in a small body.

I started with Applause Magazine, then on and on the rest now is history. If i tell you say he easy, na set up.

Over time i have seen artiste rise and fall and rise again to fall again. I have seen artistes grow from baby to Giant, at least i created one ‘Lil Kesh’ myself before he thought i was no longer of use to him. He already became a star, i guess his career can tell the story now.

Why did i say this, it is because i am trying to pass a message to all new artistes, Never bite the hand that fed you. You see the thing about that manager that helped you ‘blow’ like we call it, NEVER EVER LET HIM GO IF YOU ARE NOT DOUBLE SURE OF A REPLACEMENT.

That manger that was with you when it was rough, that one that will stay awake even when you are sleeping, that’s what real love is, because you know what. Talent management entails giving up your life for someone else. For the first time, let me say this, i gave over 2 years of my life to Lil kesh, God used me and Olamide to make him a star. I remember well when i will put all my friends on the road, all the way from Sango to Elegushi to push Shoki. God bless my friend Dj Consequence, he knows the story.

There were many days i had to sleep in my rickety Honda, days my friends Aspen and the gang will go to the club to spend money just so Shoki can be played, those days when all that mattered to me was raising a king, Alas, HE SACKED ME.

As a talent manager, i need you to understand that you are giving your life away to that artiste you think you love so much, question is not if you are ready, the real question is if the artiste is worth it.

First my advice is this, as an artiste manager, Music to you is first a product not just a collection of sound. You need to understand that you are not the target market. You don’t have to like a song to push it, you just need to understand what market you are pushing the song to. I honestly did not like Shoki at first listen, but i knew the market to push it to, the kids because it sounded like Nursery rhyme. Every song has a target market, find it.

The music industry is a capital intensive one and believe me everyone is on the look out to collect money from you. Do not believe 2 faced OAPs like Osi of beat Fm, who come online to act all helpful. Trust me i have been there done that, he is part of the no pay, no show.

I trust him to be defensive about this when he reads this so i am going to give you an instance.

Before Lil Kesh, I was working with a super talented, humble kid named Spicy. We had a song Lenu produced by D’tunes. Now about D’tunes, he is one person you want to get close to. I wish he established a Talent management company because asides knowing how to make music, he knows how to sell music. Iyanya and Sean Tizzle are testimonies. D’tunes is one humble dude you need in your corner.

Here is a secret a lot of people will not tell you, the less popular you are as a talent manager, the more effective you will be. It makes it easy for you to get the job done. Do not go all about like Danku, you wont get anything done because instead of representing your artiste, you will be representing YOU.

Now back to the Osi matter, i waited till this day to tell the story. As a rookie manager back in the days, Osi was a rookie OAP too, i like to work with people like that because in my head we trying to help each other grow, i thought wrong. Back when Osi used to be the errand boy in Beat fm before the advent of twitter which made him a pseudo celebrity. He was on the midnight show and back then i paid him good money. I cannot specifically remember the amount, but i am sure it was good money because YES i used to throw money around, ask about me. I would always have to stay awake at midnight to listen in to his show,he would not play my music. I would call, he picks when he likes then i will beg him to play my music, at least i paid for it. Sometimes he played, but at a time when we both know most human beings are sleeping, i wonder who he was playing for. This was a time Beat Fm was the Alpha and Omega of radio. Another person you do not need in your corner is Olisa of Beat fm, he most likely will charge you in dollars. In short as an artiste manager, throw Beat Fm and all the OAPs away, you do not need them. Forget what you been told. They never played lil Kesh’s shoki and Oritshefemi’s Double wahala until they became monster hits.

When you looking to plug a newbies song on radio, here are the places you should go. Your first point of call now is Soundcity radio. Make Ilo and Awazi your friend, they NEVER request money, trust me Awazi made me a refund, she never collects money to play a song. You need a radio station that can give you at least 3 times daily, if you don’t that get it is a waste of money. Go to City Fm, back in the days when Shosleek used to be there, that was a real G. When they promise to play your song, they play well. Walk into Faji fm, Eko fm, Traffic radio they have numbers but they are underrated. These are radio stations that can give you proper airplay for people to notice. Also in all you do, make sure your song gets to Brilla Fm. They will also charge you but they will do a good job. Brilla fm has a dedicated audience, dont joke with it.

In the beginning, artistes are usually under control, they feign humility don’t be carried away. Read between he lines, i saw the signs but i ignored. I remember one day during the heat of promotion, i drove Kesh, Viktoh and Dj Enimoney to Star Fm. Know what they did, they beat the gate man. I mean proper beating. I had to do a lot of damage control for the news not to get out. I am sure till today they must have thought its because they are celebrities. Tueh!

The signs are always there, always look for them. Even where they are not obvious, find them.

Always have a plan B. By plan B, i mean always have something else that brings you money.

A lot of people till date think music just grow, no it doesn’t Artiste managers place the song strategically to make it seem like it is everywhere. I remember when i will go all the way from Sango to Ikorodu to push Shoki without the knowledge of the entire YBNL crew, i wanted to make my own artiste. I wanted to put my name in the sand of time. I could do anything for Kesh at the time. Mobola and Desmond2dG of Splash Fm can bear me witness about how i will come to Ibadan to promote the song. Who knew that, Me. What was i trying to achieve? I was trying to make star.

I remember when Olamide dropped YBNL album, that was my first major project. God bless Baddo, he loved me so much. I got some Cds from him, i signed them myself in his name drove down to Ibadan and was handing it out to all radio stations, telling them Ola sent me, where as, i sent myself. You wonder why YBNL have so much fan base in Ibadan and Ikorodu, I did that. I laid the foundation.

Another thing is that you need to be impulsive, take decisions and live with the consequences. Your head tell you go to Club Royale now, just go damn the consequences if you know the dj or not, walk up to him. he is just another human being. Always think outside the box. In thinking outside the box, take your promo out of Lagos. People in lagos are too busy to notice a growing song. Most of the songs you eventually hear in lagos have been doing well in other places a good example is Wetin we gain by Victor Ad, lagos people got it last and made it theirs, always look to achieve that. Take your song to Ibadan, the money you will spend to promote on 2 radio stations in Lagos will get the entire Ibadan playing your song. Walk into Ray Power Ibadan, ask after Kolade Dominate, tell him Wale Applause sent you or go to Splash FM. ask after Edwin Paul, the whole of Ibadan is covered.

While you read this, say a big thank you to Notjustok.com, they pioneered music blogging. There was a time to get your song on that site, Ovie would say submit and pray, if men were God. Notjustok is a good site to have your song, but trust me your audience is not there. God bless the days when Dellyma was with Naijaloaded,com, he always knew how to strategically place your song on the site, he knew the peak periods. Invest in Naijaloaded and Tooxclusive, this is where Street djs download music and best believe if your song is good, most of them will play. HOTT category on Tooxclusive, Song of the week on Naijaloaded, quite expensive but do your best to be there.

Do not be fooled, we all doctor numbers, Youtube, Soundcloud. The way we do it is the difference. While some buy virtual views, some of us buy real view which wouldn’t amount to fans, but we need the numbers, viewers will not watch a video with 18 views. What we do is advertise the link, it gets published on Asian sites, you know the population in Asia,YES that’s what we all do, forget about the congratulatory artworks about millions of views. Yes they are real views but they do not amount to your fan base, indeed you need the numbers. Think i am lyinh check www.pushpowerpromo.com. That is where most of your music distributors go, there are others though but this is very effective, cheap, real views and accept Nigerian cards.

Let me give you another story about why at a point in my life i used to wear only knickers, socks and slippers.

Lil Kesh’s first ever show was Cotonou, i am sure he must have thought his song got that big. Shior. I remember my friend Tayo in Cotonou at the time who i spoke to about pushing Lil kesh hard in Cotonou. We forced the students to listen to only him hereby creating a demand. Yes there was a demand but there was no finance. I asked them how much they had, they 50k. I told them to push harder and after many days all they had was 80k. I knew 80k was no going to fly with Olamide as we had a 40;40;20 sharing formula at the time. I got 20 while they got 40 a piece, fantastic sharing formula, i of those reasons i will forever respect Olamide. Told the boys to send their 80k, i personally added my 20k since i knew it was coming back to me. Want to know why i did this? I needed to boost Lil Kesh’s career. What is an artiste without a performance. I needed to also make myself look good too. I called the team to say we had a show, a whooping 100k. I got back my 20k, we had a show, went to Cotonou and back. He became a star.

Always make your artiste look good.

Now about why i used to wear only Knickers. I was managing a budding artiste at the time but my account balance was red. I could not finance the life of an ideal artiste manager, there had to be another option. I had rent to pay, my siblings, everyday life, i knew i could not..

Continue: [url]Akukom.com/true-life-story-of-an-artiste-manager-lessons-for-all-aspiring-talent-managers/[/url]

Author: [url]Akukom.com/author/wale-applause/[/url]

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me but since I met you, my day is only completer when I hear your voice,” Obi speaks into his phone.
“Awwwww, the feeling is mutual,” Rahila, replies.
“What’s that?” Obi asks.
“What’s ‘what’?” Rahila asks too.
“’the feeling is mutual’, are you suffering from mumps?”
Rahila feigns anger and refuses to respond to Obi for well over 45 seconds. When she will not respond to his “I’m sorry”, “are you there?”, “please, talk to me”, he resorts to flattery.
“Omalicha’nwa! Omaa!” Obi teases. “My tomato Jos, my ego oyinbo”
Rahila bursts out laughing. “This guy has sweet mouth,” she says to herself and he just knows the right words to use. What makes her laugh, though, is “ego oyinbo” (my foreign currency). How an Igbo man can conveniently slip money into a love talk and still sound sweet, is what she cannot comprehend.
“You know I love you too, Obim. You are my muse. My heart skips a beat each time your name appears on my phone screen. You make me. . .”
“E don do, my ego oyinbo”, Obi cuts in. “I know that. I just want to hear you say it. The magic your voice does to me, I can’t explain”.
Rahila giggles and confesses to feigning anger just to hear him beg.
“Go joor,” Obi replies, half-laughing and just loving the fact that his feelings, no, not feelings, devotion. Yes, the right word is devotion, mixed with commitment, laced with a pinch of love and respect for her, is growing by the day.
He met her when he came for the National Union of Journalist, NUJ, national convention in Jos. Theirs isn’t love at first sight. She sat across from him during the two-day convention. What struck him about her is her intelligence, ability to think outside the box and most importantly, her receptiveness. She’s the most unassuming person he has ever met. They continued talking after the convention and after a visit back to Jos, their love story blossomed.
“Have a great day Oma and be a blessing to someone today, okay,” Obi finally says.
“Alright Obim, I will. I’ll make sure Henry, Ben, O.J, Abdul and Kaynoe get blessed by me today”.
“Yes o, make sure John your cubicle neighbor, his father, grand-father, grand uncle, paternal great grand-father and. . .”
By now, Rahila is laughing hysterically. Obi’s dry humor, mixed with sarcasm, doled out in a calm way, is one of the things that makes her look forward to his phone calls. There is never a drab moment talking with Obi.
A loud crashing noise interrupts her laughter. The sound came from Obi’s end.
“What’s that noise?” Rahila asks Obi. “Hello! Hello!! Obi are you there?”
In a far-away voice, Obi assures her that he’s alright and will call her as soon as possible.
“Alright, be careful and stay safe,” she says to a dead line because he had dropped the call as soon as he was done speaking. “Please keep him safe, Lord,” Rahila prays.
____________
Rushing out, Obi could not believe his eyes. The source of the sound is that of two armored tanks, crashing (deliberately, he can’t say) into Nnayi Emma high stocked crates of drinks that were delivered early morning for his bar business. To crown it all, these armored tanks are not the conventional ones he is familiar with. They look like something out of a Stephen Spielberg’s film.
Obi walks towards his friend, Chekwuebe, who’s discussing with some “yard” boys.
“Nna, wetin dey happen?” Obi asks in pidgin as is normal with how he converses with Chekwuebe.
“Nna mehn, as you see am so, I no get idea.”
“What kind of car is this?” Nneoma, a ‘slay queen’ asks. Everyone turns to look at her. She’s putting on a bum shorts under and an orange tank top that is barely covering her heavy cleavage. Her face, with traces make-up, is dull as she looks like she just woke up from sleep. On a normal day, her question would have sent Obi and his friends rolling on bare ground with laughter but, today is far from a normal day.
“It’s called an armored tank” Obi manages to rely her.
“Armored tank kwa, what is it for and what are those long sticks on top of it?” she ask further.
The question thoroughly irritates Obi who is trying to get the full gist of the “invasion”. But come to think of it, didn’t Nneoma claim to be a third year student of Bio-chemistry in the State University? Confirming that is for another day. Just then, he heard a familiar sound- Robin Thicke’s “Lost without you” is competing with the noise around it. Of course it’s his sweet heart.
“Hello”
____________
Hello? Am I hearing right, Rahila asks herself. Obi salutes her so, if they have a misunderstanding. He always responds with “Oma”, “ego oyinbo” or “my tomato Jos.”
She’ll let it slide today.
“Are you there?” she hears Obi’s impatient voice through the receiver. She snaps back and responds.
“Yes love, what’s happening up there? Are you alright? What made that noise?” she asks in one breath.
Obi realizes how he answered and tries to make it up.
“It’s some army armored tanks, Oma, with countless army trucks passing through our street.”
“What made that sound then?”
“It’s my neighbor’s drinks that was stocked up outside his bar. I don’t know how some of the tanks ran into it.”
“Was that deliberate or what?”
“Obviously it is”
“Anyway be careful and talk to you later”
“I love you, Oma”
“I love you too dear” Rahila replies and clicks the end button. She dresses up and heads out to work.
In the bus, Rahila keeps hearing some Igbo people talking repeatedly about “Python dance.” As she walks the remaining distance between the bus stop and her office, she chuckles as she thinks of the incredulity of a python dancing. To what now? “Come to think of it, does a python dance?” she asks out loud to no one in particular.
“Good morning ma,” Jemimah the receptionists greets Rahila as she walks into their station’s complex.
“Morning Mima, hope you slept well?”
“Yes ma”
“Good. By the way Mima, have you ever seen a python dancing?”
“Ma” Mima responds with a wide-eyed blank look.
“Never mind,” Rahila says and marches on to her cubicle.
As she sits to take out some of her personal effects from her hand bag to put on the table, Kaynoe walks up to her corner and after exchanging pleasantries, he asks.
“Ever seen a python dancing?”
“You took the question out of my mouth,” Rahila replies. “What’s with all that? I kept hearing that from some Igbo men in the bus I boarded to work today.” Just then, her phone beeps to notify her of a new message on Facebook. She quickly checks as she listens to Kaynoe talk of his experience in the bus too. Obi’s status on Facebook reads, “Egwu Eke”
“Kaynoe,” she calls after him as he makes to leave her cubicle. “What’s the meaning of ‘Egwu Eke’?”
“Roughly translated, it means snake dance,” Kaynoe responds. “Wait, are you sure it’s not related to this python dance thing?”
Being a born investigator, Rahila dials Obi’s line. After five rings, he picks the call and tells her that he’d call back and drops the call. Somehow, this action did not bother her because her mind is already working -trying to connect the dots. Armored tanks in Uahia. Igbo’s angry conversation in the bus about Python Dance. Obi’s status that means snake dance.
She begins to dial another number.
_____________________
This is one week since the “invasion” of the army in Uahia and surrounding. The army’s operation, code named Python dance, is meant to quell down the Secessionist activities of the BOPE- Bonafide People of the East.
Obi’s anger and frustration knows no bounds as he recounts the events of the past six hours
“Sir, kindly give me back my tablet,” Obi tells the army officer with the badge name reading Ghaddafi Umar. “I was not covering anything. You saw it on the table so you can’t say I was video-covering you.”
In a split second, Ghaddafi throws the Samsung Galaxy tablet to the ground and smashes it with his Jackboot. The crushing sound, is one Obi will not forget in a hurry-not because of the tab, but because of the twisted anger and pain that accompanied the crushing sound as the show of ignorance and “power” continues. Obi looks at Ghaddafi’s guns and what remains of his tab and walked away to his cubicle.
That tab is worth more than half of his one-year savings from the meagre pay he receives as a reporter for Maple Press.
“Bring out your phones and electronic gadgets,” barks another army officer with a badge name reading Dantata Aliyu.
Obi watches on as his colleagues’ phones and tabs met the same fate as his. Even their midgets were not spared.
“What’s the meaning of this madness?” asks Chekwuebe.
“What?” Dantata asks in feigned...
Continue: [url]Akukom.com/love-in-the-time-of-secession/[/url]

cc Obinnau, Divepen1

So let’s just cut the bullshit

It’s all my fault

I’m the reason you’re uninvolved

I shouldn’t have text

I shouldn’t have called

Bugging, annoying you up the wall.



Maybe I’m the reason you went away

I should’ve begged for you to stay

I did too much, and left you no space

Lord have mercy, I even prayed



Your problems are much bigger than mine

I know now that you require more time

When I told you to do better, I crossed the line

I should’ve been arrested for my crime



I shouldn’t have asked for you to try

It probably pushed you away to hear me cry

You failed to show, and I asked you why

My bad for expecting a reply



See, I’ve realized that some people need a break before they start labor

I ask for too much, I’m the worst kind of neighbor

I should’ve just shut the Bleep up while you chased the paper

But I was always impatient, never a waiter



When you took from us, I shouldn’t have questioned you

Now I’ve blocked my blessings by rushing you

All of the days I spent cursing you,

If I were to relapse now, it’d be nothing new (I did)



I’m the bad parent, I’m the one to blame

I projected my flaws unto you to ruin your name

It’s ridiculous, I know, it’s insane,

Now I get why you questioned the state of my brain



I’m in the hospital, day 3, writing this

The princess is sleep, complete silence

I asked you to come, I should just stop trying it

I hope you can forgive me, these habits don’t die quick



This is a poem for my baby’s father

Another attempt to get you to try harder

That’s all I know, huh? I’m such a bother

Like I have to want the best for our daughter

Source: [url]Akukom.com/excuses-for-the-uninvolved/[/url]

For More Poems: [url]Akukom.com/category/poetry/[/url]

I knew something was wrong when she almost burnt our apartment for the third time in a row after forgetting that she had been cooking. My Maggie had never been forgetful but i knew the signs. Our grandmother had suffered from dementia before she died and it was inconceivable that my Maggie would suffer from the same thing. I ignored it. My mantra was “if I refuse to acknowledge it, then it doesn’t exist”.
Our dad kicked us out the day we both graduated from university. He couldn’t bear the shame of people finding out what was going on with his twin “Daughters of Jezebel” as he called us.
We didn’t care, we had each other. Neither of us had ever been interested in another person but us. It had always been Maggie for me. My Maggie. My Margaret.
My Maggie was smart so she knew what was going on too. She had to resign from her job because she kept forgetting things. I refused to have her checked into an institution. I would be with my Maggie until the very end, even on the days wen she didn’t know who I was or where she was, I would always be there to remind her about our love and how much I loved her. She was my world.
I didn’t realise that Maggie, not used to being taken care of, was sinking into depression as she started to rely on me more because she kept forgetting the simplest things, even how to drive a car. So it came as a shock to me that day when i got home and found her body swinging back and forth from the mango tree we loved to sit under in front of the apartment building. Before she could allow herself to become totally helpless, my Maggie ended it, Maggie ended me.

SOurce: [url]Akukom.com/maggie/[/url]

For More Diaries: [url]Akukom.com/category/diary/[/url]

I.
I am her light’s savior
In the dark
I am her hope
In her darkest hours.
I am her moon.

I.
I am his warmth
When his heart wants to get frozen
I am his ray of hope
In his hopeless days.
I am his sun

I am the moon
And I have fallen in love
With my ray of hope.
I am the sun
And I have fallen in love
With my light’s savior.

Our romance is unbounded
By the galaxy and the universe
Should the sun and moon
Ever fall in love?

But we can’t help it.
So I say to every other star
In the galaxy
Love the one you truly love
For you owe no god an explanation
Love the one your heart chooses
For you don’t owe the universe an explanation.

I am the moon
And I am deeply in love with the sun.
I am the sun
And I am deeply in love with the moon.

SOurce: [url]Akukom.com/the-moon-the-sun/[/url]

For More Poems: [url]Akukom.com/category/poetry/[/url]

We vary in size and shape,

including height and face.

Some say we came from ape,

hating us because we belong to a different race.

Our skin is black and beauty,

real melanin popping

but some of ‘em think our skin is ugly,

or rather disgusting.

Our skin needs to be appreciated, not insulted.

believe it or not we’re all the same

even if we might not bear the same name

We bear the common title “Human”

so why don’t we just pretend

we belong to the same clan.

We are all beautiful the way we are.

Let’s learn to find true beauty beyond

our physical attributes.

Ignore the skin colour or the face.

Let’s liken ourselves to flowers.

Even though there’re flowers with different colours,

they’re still flowers anyway.

So yes, let’s just embrace the fact

that we’re all beautiful flowers with different colours .

Source: [url]Akukom.com/flowers-with-different-colours/[/url]

Other Poems by Writer:[url]Akukom.com/author/rose_rigan/[/url]

Their unrhythmical voices,
Yes the babarians’ voices.
With the pitch of their voices
Being as high as the soprano singers
Only that theirs is that of noise and not
Melodious to the ear.
The shouts and screams of the street people
Can provokingly wake a dead man
And make him demand silence from the living world.

At the opposite side of the road
Is a burnt skinned midget
With her Afro hair as full as
The branches of a grown tree
And her hair as curly as the coils
Of a telephone wire.
Her face is as beautiful as a bull dog
And her skin is cotton feel.

At the opposite end of the road
Is the burnt skinned midget
Who is me.
Cursed to look identical to apes
But blessed with the gift of
Making words unite
To form a beautiful meaning.

Like a tall tree ,
I stand motionless.
My feet are rooted to the ground
I watch with glee.
The fight between an “Okada” man and a policeman
A typical fight and struggle between a Lion and its prey
But here, they are both the lion and prey.
Both trying to oppress the other.

I hear the “Okada” man screaming “ injustice”
And the policeman yelling
“ I can arrest you”
The fight scene is like a magnetic field
Attracting some people,
Making them gather like a group of disorganized schoolchildren
And repelling some people,
Making it seem like they’re blind and deaf.
While people like me
Stand glued to the opposite end of the road
Watching in amusement and glee.

They sure will definitely resolve the issue
This is my country.

For More Poems: [url]Akukom.com/category/poetry/[/url]

Author Profile: [url]Akukom.com/author/rose_rigan/[/url]

We lived in a small quiet village where teenage pregnancies were rampant, and promiscuity wasn’t a new thing. Anyways no one cared, we all were happy I guess, as life just seemed so simple.

I lived with my step dad and my mum, my younger ones were scattered around as my mum had different lovers. It wasn’t a stable home after all, in that small village there were no stable homes, but it was everyman for himself, likewise every woman and child for themselves.

The only time I smiled truly was in school, our small quiet school. But all of us were from broken homes, illiterate parents, and different parents, if only the situation was different. I’m just a small quiet girl lost among the crowd wishing to grow up in a different background.

Staying with my step father, I was always dealing with a drunk man every night, cleaning up after his mess, my mother is yet again with another lover, I hope she doesn’t come home pregnant, I thought she had stopped… seeing that she decided to settle down with my step dad but, I guess not, my step dad didn’t seem to care anyway cause he had his wayward ways too and he was also a drunk.

My mother left and never to return again, she didn’t inform me, nor bother to take me either, I became like all my other siblings but this time around with another man as my father, I was never comfortable in the house but how would she have noticed when she never even cared about me.

I suffered in silence emotionally, I was lacking a lot of things, and my formal education wasn’t even helping because it had always been every man for himself.

I lacked the basic things a girl would need; I lacked a mother’s love, I lacked a mother’s education and warning, I was left out in the cold with no one to advise me or help me out.

He was drunk he said, but he already started showing signs, he touches my butt when I serve him food, I have caught him staring at me in a very uncomfortable manner, I knew what he wanted because we were already being taught by the female corpers in my school to always close our legs no matter what, that we were still too young for any type of relationships.

But then what could I have done, who could have rescued me in our village, everybody minded their business. There was no one to advise me on what to do or who to talk to about it… if only mother was here, but even if she was, would she notice? I just stayed quiet and turned blind eyes to everything he was doing; he started spending more time at home too.

When he was done, he told me to clean up and get out of his room, insulted me that..
Continue:https://akukom.com/mothers-love/

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To nibble at her toes and to worship at her feet. He wanted to cling to her fingers never letting go and caress her palms. He wished, desperately, to take her skydiving, only this time a jump to love, and bring her crashing into his arms.

She was driving him nuts yet she didn’t own a valid licence.
He watched her steadily as she cued sheepishly, like an infant, while she strained her neck sideways to catch a glimpse of the live clip that played as we drove by. On the carpet grass the kids in their late teens cuddle up lovely, in picnic style, on the lush baby pink floral blanket that gave more room than they had wanted.

Yet for some reason she seemed to be oblivious to the he gestures he flung, in a not so subtle way, in her face.

Incessantly, he searched for ways to show her it was okay. Being with him. In love. And it took all he had in him from yanking her hands and slapping the reality of himself to her face.

A chain which was slightly become incapable of holding him.


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So I got a perspective today on pain and the capacity to endure it. This illumination came when I jammed my finger on the door to my boss’s office. I was walking into the office and as a true professional, I closed the door behind me without turning around(they tell us these things in interview tips….lol). That was when I felt the pain on my thumb. Those of you that have experienced this can relate right now and some might even recollect the pain( I know cos I can recollect while typing this).



As a typical Nigerian ‘aje butter’ girl, I said “ouch” and shook my whole hand. The normal ‘eyah sorry’ and ‘take care of you’ followed, but since I was not dead, the meeting I went in for has to happen abi?



Anyway, I noticed that during the meeting even though I was in pain, I was not worried. Then ‘the illumination’! I was not worried because I knew the intensity of the pain will gradually reduce and that by end of the day, I would not feel this pain as strongly as I felt it now and that it will be gone by the next day.



This got me thinking, what if we knew how the other pains in our life will pan out? What if we knew that the pains we feel in our lives (emotional, physical, mental, financial etc) will go eventually and that we will be free? Will that make us more capable of enduring it?



I think it will.



So I got to wondering, how do we access this confidence that the pain will go eventually? I could only come up with two ways……..believing in God’s promises to us and seeing examples of others who went through the same or similar.. Continue:https://akukom.com/on-pain-and-enduring/

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THE NIGERIAN LIFE: DIARY OF A YOUNG SCHOOL LEAVER.

It’s Monday morning, I donned on my best cloth and pray Baba God to please bless my hustle today. As I make my way to Oshodi, my stomach groan to remind me I have not had anything to eat since 5pm yesterday, well I am only feeding my focus, which right now is getting to the companies and dropping these documents. The morning seems perfect, no black cat crossed my path, traffic is light, the conductor was gentle, nothing could go wrong.
At Oshodi, I held on to my bag tightly as I joined the growing crowds of early risers heading for their various businesses and workplace, which also include pick-pocketing I could be rushed and an item in my bag could go missing, and it could be the new infinix phone you bought to join social media perhaps my employer would be on the timeline or the #500 transport back home or the #200 you have for gala and Pepsi. My livelihood depends on this one bag.
With the nicest smile I approach the first company and a grumpy security man –possibly from still covering up for his latecomer colleague, his breath stinks- answers me and ask what I want, boldly I request to see HR and I am asked the almighty question you ‘ Do you have an appointment?’, I reply No sir, ‘Do you know someone?’ I are tempted to say God but the look on the man’s face tells a thousand tale of which laughter isn’t one. I shake my head meekly hoping for sympathy and the man tells you drop my envelope there, there where it’s never going to pass but I hope it does, I hope it doesn’t belong to the woman selling puff-puff by the corner.
I try 5 more companies and never have I had a déjà vu feeling this strong. Mopping my brows with an hanky which looks forward to its RIP days, I then remember the professor that made my life a living hell, the nights classes I went, the mosquitoes that bit me, every tiny detail that made school hellish crossed my mind at that very moment, I felt cursed, what did I do to deserve this, my dying off is better than these abject poverty I find myself in.
With this frustration I make my way home – home to six boys, the other five pay the rent I am the pitied, picked-up-from-gutter squatter- as I walk along an ongoing road construction, so does a trailer which clothes me with dust talk about adding salt and pepper to an injury.
I made an attempt to dust myself, but decided against it, was going home anyways, nobody cared and loved me, so why not save energy.
In the bus I take a seat at the rear end close to the window, traffic as accumulated so as my ignored hunger pangs, the tanker beside the bus, heaving seriously as though it has asthma, before I could blink, it let out a puff of smoke directly on my face, well this was the steam needed to cook my frustration.
The ocean looked so beautiful, the water to which I contorted my face with disgust, now looks like Nirvana to me. As I decide what style and manner I want to approach the end of my sorrow and maybe the beginning of my bliss –death-, choosing between the dive or thunderbolt was never this hard during my swimming days. While wondering which style will have the most impact, I hear the conductor call out, ‘‘Last bus stop, everyone out’’.
There goes my Shiloh, grudgingly I alight..
Continue: https://akukom.com/the-nigerian-life/

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“What more can i say, God bless you for deciding to spend the rest of your life with me. I cannot promise you much, but for everyday that i live i WILL make you very happy, I hope you know how big that word is.

Thank you for knowing all of my past but you still decided to stick with me. Many think i’m lucky, but i rather say i am blessed.

After all you heard about me and all in all my imperfections, you still here and all will be, Thank you.

For the 2 wonderful girls you gave me, these are the best gifts i ever got, Words are Just not enough.

Thanks for not being jealous of my girls, understanding that i am more of a father than a husband, but who says you are not my daughter too?

Love hasn’t treated me right, I was damaged but for you i am healed and i will always love you like no other.

Marriage can be a whole lot of work, but you have made it the best time of my life by being a good wife, i say Thank you.

You are one reason i want to wake up every morning. Your smile when you say Good morning is everything i need to start the day.

The man is the head of the family, but what can a head do without a good neck. Thank you for knowing that you decide the mood of the home, and you make good decisions about that.

As carefree as i can be about money, you keep tabs on our accounts, you definitely the best manager life has to offer.

Whenever i see what my kids are growing into, i marvel at what you are making them into. They don’t deserve a better mum.

The love you have for my brothers is over whelming. Thank you for understanding how much they mean to me and you respect that. You do your very best to keep my extended family intact, thank you.

Even their wives love you like a mum because you always there for them.

Mum and dad tell me how often you call yo check on them and even though its our money, they appreciate the gifts you buy for them. I appreciate that you take time out to do all these for my family.

Thanks for understanding that i cannot make every family holiday but you make it sacrosanct for the love of the girls.

Please avoid spanking the girls when im around, you know i cannot take it one bit.

When we argue and i apologize immediately, Queen, this doesn’t make me guilty, i just prefer that we live in one accord than argue over anything at all. Understanding that apologizing to me when you are wrong doesn’t make you a lesser person is one trait i always envy about you.

I have forgiven all my Exes as much as you have forgiven yours, and we wont be talking about them, and even when we do, its just jokes and bants.

Thanks for understanding that your Iphone is a Wephone, and my small Nokia phone cannot be passworded, so i appreciate that you pick my every call whenever i m not close.

I know you appreciate that i never go out, but i thank you for always taking my girls shopping and to the cinemas, also when i decide to bring the part home with my friends, thanks for always being the best host ever.

I also appreciate that you never stay out late the few times you hang out with your friends.

The way you look at me when i cook warm my heart. The way you talk about the meals i prepare when i do is always captivating but learn to agree that i am a better cook.

Thank you for liking my friends and more especially my day One goons, what would i have done if you did not. Whenever i watch you and their wives gist and argue, i feel glad that you are helping to keep the relationship we always kept.

Whenever i go out to work, the way check on me to make sure i am alright is hearth warming. It rejuvenates me at times when i am down. What more does a man who work so hard deserve.

Even with all this cash and investments, i still remain a local man, so i..
Continue: https://akukom.com/love-letter-to-my-future-wife/

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