₦airaland Forum

In the heart of Ebute Metta, where the railway hums like a restless ghost and the air carries the scent of rust and rain, there stood a house at the very end of Olonode Street. Hidden behind a rusted iron gate and a compound of overgrown ewa agoyin plants, it was known only as Ile Olori Buruku—the House of Misfortune.

Children crossed the street rather than walk past it. Agberos avoided its fence. Even the okada riders, fearless and swift, refused fares that stopped anywhere near its cracked driveway.

But Tunde didn’t believe in ghost stories. He had returned from the UK, confident and disillusioned, seeking cheap property to turn into co-living apartments. The old colonial mansion, three floors high with a sagging balcony and blood-red shutters, was perfect—price slashed to a quarter of its value. “Nobody go tell you the real reason,” the agent had muttered under his breath. “Dem say the house dey hear and dey answer.”

Tunde laughed then. But not the night he moved in.

That first night, the house seemed to breathe. The ceiling fan turned on by itself. A transistor radio—disconnected and broken—crackled with whispers in Yoruba, twisted and ancient. Somewhere above, footsteps paced slowly, deliberately, on a floor he hadn’t stepped on yet.

By 3:07 a.m., Tunde was wide awake. He heard a knock—three times—on his bedroom door. He opened it, expecting no one. But there was a trail of white sand leading down the hallway, and at the end of it, a woman in iro and buba, her back to him, standing still.

“Hello?” he asked, voice cracking.

She turned—but her face was missing, replaced by a blank stretch of skin where eyes and mouth should have been.

The next morning, Tunde went to Makoko to speak with an old babalawo who had once lived near Olonode. The man sighed, deep and heavy.

“You have entered a house that remembers sorrow,” he said. “That place once belonged to a slave merchant who betrayed his own blood for wealth. Every generation, the house feeds on pride—especially those who laugh at spirits.”

Tunde tried to leave.

But every okada that tried to take him away from the house broke down at the gate. Buses swerved. Ubers disappeared off the app. Even walking made no difference—he’d loop the block only to find himself back at the front gate again, like the neighborhood was folding around him.

By the third week, neighbors said they could hear him at night—talking to someone. No one ever saw who. And eventually, no one saw him.

But if you pass Olonode Street today—especially just before dawn—look up. One of the top floor windows will be lit. A figure stands there, silhouetted against a flickering bulb.

And if you look too long, the window might blink.

Can THEY JUST RETIRE?

Dem don start!

Guyman

Make I just shut up for this Matter before APC RATS go ask me why I no pay the money!

I spit on the Nigerian State that does not value life.

Tueh!!

He who fears his life loses it.

CAPITAL NONSENSE!!!

Hmmmmm, yt girl

Still better than The classes during Tinubu's governoship stint.

I Feel your pain my dear..

abysirius:
Bifraud is your place..yes, in a zoo, that is where you will find a lawless country you want since you be hate to be responsible and held accountablefor your actions.

Oh, so now they want social media platforms to have physical offices in Nigeria? Is that really the battle we should be fighting, Senator Nwoko? While we, the youth, are starving for jobs, opportunities, and meaningful reforms, they’re busy chasing shadows, chasing after foreign companies who don’t care about our poverty or broken systems.

Where are the policies that tackle unemployment?

Where is the bill that addresses the abysmally low minimum wage?


You want accountability, Senator? How about accountability from our government for the billions being wasted on ‘phantom’ projects and the resources we continue to mismanage while our youth are struggling? You talk about economic losses, but the real loss here is the brain drain—our best minds fleeing to places that at least offer decent opportunities while we remain stuck in endless bureaucratic bottlenecks.




You want blogs to have offices in Abuja ? More paperwork, more bureaucracy, more of the same system that has crushed creativity and entrepreneurship. You’ve seen the power of social media in giving Nigerians, especially the youth, a platform to speak, to earn, to create. Instead of using this bill to stifle free expression, why not focus on making this country a place where the youth can thrive without being oppressed by these never-ending laws that only serve to make the already powerful even more untouchable?



Enough of the distractions! The real battle is for a better Nigeria, not one where social media offices are the priority.

People without Value and what they stand for.

Easily swayed by the wind of politics and personal gains.

BUNCH OF JOKERS!

NIGERIA WE HAIL THEE!

ISLAND PEOPLE GO FEEL AM...


In Davido's Frog voice

Dem go feel'it

Loses never start

Lets see how this pans out!

People need to pay for their SINS

MIDGET Doings

EMILOKAN!!

AWALOKAN!!

SAI BABA!!!


YOU'LL LOSE YOUR JOB FOR SPEAKING UP.

Like Father like SON

Let the JOKE Begin.

We know its a CIRCUS Full of clown performers

Feed the snake to the chickens

The Fabura Wahala

Death of a cRIMINal no dey move me!

Will still...

Wow

God Abeg

OK