₦airaland Forum

Am I the only one who hasn’t paid her tithe since the beginning of this year

I am talking about this now because my guilty conscience has killed me and is about to bury me. Every time I am buying my 1,500 naira human hair or trying to spoil myself silly with 200naira Boli (roasted plantain) and 50 naira groundnut, my subconscious pricks me with “Hmm peace, be buying ekpa but remember you have not paid ya tithe”. When I’m in the toilet trying to poop and the thing doesn’t want to come out and I am trying to tell God to pls forgive me my sins and allow the thing to just come out, my subconscious creeps in with ,”peace how will it come out when you will not pay ya tithe”.

Sometime ago, I was on a very long queue under the unrepentant scorching sun. I was determined to withdraw my last 2k. Every other person before me was able to dispense successfully but immediately it got to my turn, no more service! You should have seen how those people were looking at me like an embodiment of bad luck. They started throwing subtle shades. “which Kain bad luck some people carry come this queue this afternoon”, ” all these yellow girls with marmi water spirit ehn”. ” yellow aunty pls shift to one side let us know if the service will return”. I stood apart like an abandoned native fowl trying so hard to stop those tears from falling and as They continued their derogatory remarks about me, my subconscious quietly echoed ”when you will not pay ya tithe nko”.

The guilt is so major, I literally now associate every of my misfortune to the fact that I haven’t given God his own 10% since the month of January until now. Growing up I heard stories of people who always met misfortunes because they didn’t pay their tithes.

So now, any small headache I have, I’m like, “why this strange headache? Is it because I haven’t paid my tithe?”
When I slide into a cute guy’s dm on IG and he doesn’t want to love me back, I go all “God why me? Is it because I haven’t paid my tithe?”
When I walk pass a mechanic workshop and one of the apprentice is doing ssssswwewhhhhh(as if he is calling his fellow snake), and then runs to me to tell me how I look so much like his missing rib, I weep in my soul and ask God why he has refused to intervene in my situation or is it because I haven’t paid my tithe?
How about the day I went on Facebook to see a thousand photos of Regi Regi (my Facebook crush) on bended knee in front of one woman that is not even fine and then captioned it “she said yes”. I almost broke the walls of our house screaming, “Regi Regi has married another woman because I haven’t paid my tithe”.
Any bad thing that happens to me, my mind tells me it’s because I haven’t paid my tithe”.

I am tired!

I am Anglican by birth and used to attend an Anglican Church but since I started staying with my sister who is married to a catholic, I started attending a Catholic Church. Later, my sister’s husband introduced us to this Pentecostal Church which soon turned to our most frequented Church. From time to time we would attend catholic but almost never Anglican. I don’t think i have stepped into an Anglican Church throughout this year. In fact, I don’t think I remember the process of worship there.

My Anglican Church is a church of humble beginning with humble beginners. The building is incomplete with little or no space for the children’s dept. It has no doors or walls around it. only roof. The members may not be exactly poor but none of them drives a Benz, Bentley or any of those cars you see parked in front of churches like house on the rock, synagogue or Christ embassy. It is this kind of church where you don’t need to squeeze & hide your 50naira in your palm before going to put it in the offering bag becos there was no need to. Every other person there was also giving 50 naira offering or 20naira, So you with 50naira should be proud of yourself. Even though I admit I’d never find my Mr right in that church, I accept that the church molded me. Before I started earning my 10k naira stipend, before I started having boobs and ass & Before I even properly learned to pronounce parallelogram, I had been a member of that church and so I always feel indebted.

Our Pentecostal Church is those big man church. If you mistakenly come like 30minutes late, you may not find space to park your car. You have ushers singing & welcoming you from the church gate, and then immediately you enter inside the church auditorium, you will feel the intense AC. Your skin may start to think it is in the U.S and you may need to change your accent accordingly. You cannot! I repeat, you cannot be proud of your 500naira offering becos you see people put bundle of 1000 naira notes into their offering envelops � before dropping it in the offering bag. I’d usually wait until it was prayer time when people were closing their eyes before I skillfully squeeze out my 50naira from my bag to the offering envelop because I cannot be put to shame! When it’s time for donations, the least amount a calvarian can donate is 1M! Brothers and sister, who am I? Even though I have a feeling I’d find my Mr right in that church, I don’t pay my tithe there because they are rich enough and wouldn’t be needing my 1k tithe.

Our Catholic Church? I don’t even know when they call for tithers. I am there but my mind is always in the puff puff that is sold at the other end of the church. The church is well populated and quiet affluent . They have myriads of cars parked outside during masses & congregations are always using 10 bags of rice, 10 cartons of malt, 10 tubers of yam and 3 tolotolo for thanksgiving. They are rich enough too so I have held back my tithe from them.

I have always maintained that until I find time to go to my Anglican Church( which is quite a distance), I wasn’t giving my tithe to any other church. Reasons are;
1- I am Anglican.
2-They need the money more than the other churches.
3-My money would be more significant there.

I feel like I’d be betraying the entire Anglican communion if I paid my tithe to another church which is the reason I haven’t paid my tithe since January as I haven’t worshipped in my Anglican church. My sister keeps saying it doesn’t matter which church I pay my tithe because it’s the same God but then, I am aware that God doesn’t come down from heaven to take this money from the offering bag. He doesn’t send Angel Michael to come and collect the tithe envelops and use it to build more mansions in heaven. I am aware that the tithe money is used by the church for charity or is invested in the church and so, from the aforementioned churches we already know which one deserves my tithe right?

I don’t know if I make sense or not but It’s been confusing deciding where to pay my tithe and if I continue being this selective, I may not pay my tithe till rapture takes place. So let me ask. does it really matter the church I pay my tithe to? Do I pay to my Anglican, Catholic, Pentecostal Church or should I just keep my money to myself because las las I feel the lord understands what I am going through.

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In line with silver and gold, another thing I don’t have is a permanent signature! After several attempts to own one, I resorted to using my finger prints unashamedly.

Regardless the fact that simple signatures of strokes & curves can be hard to master, some people will still go as far as drawing their family problems in one tiny sheet all in the name of signing a signature.
One time, I asked a man to lend me his pen at the bank. He said he would give me as he was almost done signing so i went to the toilet to pee. Brethren! I gave my life to Christ inside that toilet. I did fasting and prayer, praise and worship. I did exercise, squats,yoga and finally offered kolanuts to Amadioha. I came out and lo and behold, this man was still signing! Y’all should have seen his aggression. He sure needed an extra sheet! The ink in the awaited pen was almost finished yet oga was still carving something that looked like the road to okija shrine simply because he wanted to withdraw ”common” N5,000!
The spirit within me almost pushed me to ask him if the pen & withdrawal slip had offended him in his past life or if he had been a victim of circumstance or it was just in his nature to be complicated, but the only thing I ended up saying was ”Oga, your thing is long o” to which he replied ”you don see am before?” �
My first real encounter with a signature was at the passport office in Festac, Lagos. At first, I was asked to fill a form and sign. I tactically asked my friend who accompanied me how i’d sign and he said I should just write the name of any person , animal, place or thing on top of each other and then cancel it like it was a mistake. I did as he said, returned the form to the woman and she commended my signature, saying it was too mature for my age.
Later that day, I was in front of a man who asked that I repeat that same signature in order to validate my passport. I had already forgotten the names of animals I wrote and how I placed them. I kept shading and carving and in the end, what I drew was almost looking like the man’s flat head. He was too offended. He asked me to disappear into thin air & cursed me that I would never own a passport in this Nigeria. If not for the anointed people of God who came to plead on my behalf, I’ll probably still be in prison for head harassment.

3 years later, I went to the bank to apply for a new ATM card. There were 2 customer care attendants with about 5/6 customers queued up infront of them respectively. The first customer care lady was pregnant. The other one was a 21st century Goliath. She was really gigantic and if Jesus wasn’t by her side, she would have broken the chair she sat on or even collapsed the entire bank building.
Still confused on which queue to join, one man with plenty ATM cards from different banks told me to queue with the pregnant woman. In his words ”queue with her, don’t you know you’ll be pregnant soon?”. Even Though it sounded like a rape threat, I didn’t pick any offense because judging from his plenty ATM cards, he could be one of these Otedola people and probably had a son who was desperately looking for a Miss right. Following my assumption, I started smiling sheepishly. I licked my lips, twirled over & over again, flipped my hair, and then I decided to fake phone calls to advertise my 100 yards wife materialism.
I pulled out my phone from my bag and placed an imaginary call to my imaginary friend, Agatha. When she imaginarily picked, I went;
”Hello Agatha. I keep telling you, you have to wake up 5a.m to cook for your husband. You need to get use to this Agatha. I don’t even have a boyfriend but I am use to all these. Call me if you need more marriage advise. Ok dear bye!
Immediately I dropped Agatha’s call, I called another imaginary friend, Agnes.
”Agnes, Have you checked our results? Wow! I made all A’s? Oh! you had 10F’s. Your only A was in the course you copied me? Ehya! but Agnes why do you like copying? Is this how you want to be copying in your marriage? Agnes, I have always told you to read! You have to be a good wife material!”
My otedola man smiled at me ”you must be very intelligent and a good house keeper”. I grinned from ear to ear while trying so hard to compress my invisible shoulder pads. I was about placing another imaginary call to my doctor so that the whole world would hear that my womb could carry twins. But then, it was my turn to be attended to.
I told the pregnant customer care lady what I needed to do & she tossed me a form. After I filled the form & stroked signed, the lady said my signature didn’t match the one in her system. I silently pleaded for a second chance. She flinged me another form and while filling, i tried to recall the food I ate the day I came to open that account. The people I met on my way or the boy I was dating then as I may have mumuly used his name as my signature.
After all attempts to remeber but to no avail, i wrote Jesus on my name and cancelled it. I returned the form to her and she yelled, ”Do you want to waste all the forms? If this is not your account get out of here! you don’t even look like the person on the account profile. fraudster!”
On hearing fraudster, the security men were at alert. The manager came out. One man from the queue said the A.C was probably affecting my brain & Others laughed. My otedola didn’t talk. I guess he wanted to scream at them to leave his future daughter In-law alone but then again, he was a man of few words. The bank manager asked me if I suffered Amnesia sometime in my life. I told him it started on my way to the bank. He called me to his office for questioning and after he realized i was too much of an Angel to be a fraudster, he walked out with me and told the customer care lady that I had been vindicated. I was this � close to swallowing that lady alive for all the embarrassment she had caused me. I was enroute to removing her name from the book of life when i heard My Otedola father Inlaw’s voice, ”It’s such a shame that a young girl like you only cares about being a wife material. you have all A’s but can’t sign a common signature? What is the name of your school young Lady? You can’t sign but you want to marry? How will you even sign your wedding certificate? Which man will want to marry your type?”
I was in shock! How an old man like him could prematurely jump to conclusions baffled me. Oga otedola, how are you sure your son isn’t attracted to women without signature? Why are you trying to destroy what God has joined together? I mean, why talk like you are not a Christian? Still looking at him with questions in my eyes, he heartlessly walked out of the bank without writing me a common cheque for me to travel to London to enroll in a signature school. Until now, I am still struggling to forgive him. What was more hurting was all the imaginary airtime I wasted for nothing.


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Few nights after our swearing in, I heard someone say she overheard another person say the son of some state governor was also camping with us in Plateau. I smiled and thanked God for the gift of ears that could hear and went to bed. I had to refrain myself from imagining anything. I didn’t trust my imaginations anymore, not after that plane incident. When my subconscious wants to do like it wants to travel to Dubai to buy ring, I would caution myself with ‘peace! peace! how many times did I call you,dont waste money yet’. Even though I didn’t want wild imaginations, I had to clench to possibilities. The next morning as at 3a.m, the resounding bugle had woken us to get ready for the usual morning drill. That was one of the few days I made up my mind to go for morning parade. I never went. I dodged it almost all the time. I was either hiding inside the very dirty toilets or inside someone’s cupboard or fearlessly lying in my bed . And when the soldiers roared and chased corpers out to the parade ground, I’d tell them I was sick inside my head and if I went out, I could run mad. It was a lame lie, but for some reason they believed me. I hate to think they believed me becoz I looked naturally mad to them.

So, that morning I carried my bucket to go get hot water as Plateau was freezing cold & hot water was sold for 50naira. I had gotten to the spot I would get the water, and then saw a fine male Corper also wanting to get hot water. Seeing a ‘fine’ male Corper in Plateau camp was strange and unusual so I was thrilled. What if he was the governor’s son? I didn’t know if I was just too patriotic or I was too eager to get noticed when I started singing the national anthem with legs at ease.

‘Corper wee ( parlance 4 greeting a fellow Corper), I can see your morale is high’. He said.

From his thick accent, I deduced he was igbo. Could he be anambra state governor’s son? Imo? Maybe Enugu. I blushed

‘Yes o, my morale is always very high in the morning’. I replied..

We were getting along until it was time to pay for hot water. Uncle had given the lady 500naira and was given a refund of 450. It got to my turn to pay then i realised i had left my waist pouch containing all my money & earthly possessions on my bed. He asked what the problem was & after I explained the situation to the supposed governor’s son, uncle said ‘you have to go and bring your waist pouch naw, always walk around with it. leave your bucket here and go..its not far.i would have paid for you but 50naira is too small. I will see you later you hear, peaceful peace I heard you are redeploying. But baby i’ll miss you o. won’t you give me your number?’. Really uncle Common 50naira? Pls, where exactly is that fish that swallowed Jonah? Some people certainly need to be swallowed!

One hazy afternoon, I was seated at the front porch of the multi purpose hall receiving northern breeze after a strenous afternoon parade. I didn’t know how my day was going as I had mistakenly used my pooing bucket to take my bath. yeah, I did that �. Poo bucket is a bucket I got to do my personal poo business in. I usually would get a bucket to poo in whenever I have to share toilet with a lot of pple cos of my fear 4 infections. So when I got to camp, I bought two black buckets. One for bathing and the other for what you already know. I usually kept the buckets away 4rm each other underneath my bed but somehow, I managed to use the one I had been using to poo to fetch the water I used to bath that morning. Pls don’t judge me�

I wasn’t done perceiving strands of hair on my body when one male Corper walked up to me. ‘baby you are fine o,this one you siddon like model, are you miss nysc?’. He was height zero. Prolly won’t see my kneecaps if I stood. His head should weigh 599.9kg approximately 600kg. Lips were out-standing,mighty and possessive. Almost covering up the whole of his face. I was sure I had seen him twice or thrice before. Queuing with his very big cooler to collect his share of watery beans and pap. Be4 I could heave a sigh of dissatisfaction, he said ‘I like your nostrils, it is pointed’. My fellow human beings, have you ever seen pointed nostrils?

I acted like a child of God & remained calm. I didn’t walk out. I didn’t ask Amadioha to give him Mouth Action neither did I ask the ground to swallow him. Uncle must have thought I wasn’t getting enough of him when he asked for my number. ‘I don’t have a phone’ I said while fiddling with my damned infinix phone.

‘ So who is the owner of the one you’r holding’?

‘ it belongs to my grandmother’s uncle’. I replied

After few minutes of silence, Uncle said, ‘okay, don’t worry. I will buy you iphone x.’ I looked into his eyes to see if i could trust his words, but before I could get any vision about him, his phone rang from his waist pouch & when he brought it out, I beheld the most ancient model of Nokia torch light in the history of homo sapiens. It had about 10 rubber bands fastened around it to keep it’s spirit, soul & body from falling off. Other female Corpers who watched the whole drama burst into laughter. I was ashmed. Telling Amadioha to possess him would be a grave insult on Amadioha & already possessed Nigerians so i simply walked out hoping in my next life I’d meet him to give him the strokes of cane he deserves.

All these kind of guys, you’d meet in camp and even worst. I remember one time i ticked meal tickets. That was the only thing I did in camp asides dodging In and out.

Anyways, in camp, your Meal ticket is quite indispensable as you’d be needing it for couple of stuff like collecting your kitchen food and collecting the small tips you’d be paid while in camp. Without it, you’r not getting kitchen food, and then if your meal ticket isn’t ticked, means you haven’t had food for that hour of the day. In essence, you have right to collect kitchen food as many as 10times as far as your meal ticket isn’t ticked.

Girls, you needed to see how these guys you call your MCM were begging me not to tick their meal tickets so they could come back with a deeper cooler for another round of beans and yam. There was no pet name they didn’t call me. Mummy, lollipop,yellow Berry, pom pom, biscuit bone. Just to convince me. It got to the turn of this 50-something-year old man Corper and as I was about ticking his ticket, he said ‘My daughter, don’t tick my ticket. This one spoon of beans you people are serving cannot satisfy me. Look into my eyes, am i not your father’s Agemate? Daddy! You’re my father’s Agemate but didn’t the Bible tell us that man must not live by bread alone? Daddy, do you even read your Bible?

I believed karma was really a b*tch when i saw that supposed governor’s son who couldn’t spare me 50naira, queuing in front of me. I overheard him tell his cohorts I was his babe and he was sure I wouldn’t tick his ticket. It got to his turn and i turned to ask the food coordinator if I could use a permanent marker to tick his b/cos pen wasn’t just enough. He looked surprised. Said he couldn’t believe i would do that to him, but Isn’t he lucky i’m not the one ticking out names from the book of life?

Dear prospective female Corp members, know that in camp, when that male Corper who’s been checking you out under the sun and in the rain finally walks up to you, the first question he would ask you b4 asking your name or life history would be ‘Corper weee, are you redeploying?

If you are the type that likes awof (free food), then the minute you enter that Prison camp gate, never tell any guy you are redeploying even if you are. If he asks you a thousand times in 77 dialects, reply him in Chinese and say ‘no! I’m not redeploying! I will be here with you’.

Don’t be like me who announced her redeployment more than John the Baptist announced the coming of Jesus! During my first few days in camp, redeployment was my middle name. I told everyone about my intentions to redeploy. If anyone said Corper wee to me I’d reply with ‘ redeployment Corper waa’. Whenever Mr Cletus called to get my state code and update me on my redeployment . I’d howl out the content of our conversation. As if that wasn’t enough, i’d turn to the Corper closest to me and say ‘My Uncle who works with nysc just called. He is helping me redeploy to Lagos’.

It was towards the end I realised the reason I could never convince any male Corper to do my bills at marmi market was bcoz of my redeployment. Those camp guys will not buy you food or pure water if you tell them you are redeploying. They don’t want to sow what they won’t harvest! They cannot be nice to you until they are sure you’r spending the rest of the miserable one year of service with them in that state!

On the last day of camp when corpers were assigned their primary place of assignments and redeployment letters given to others plus me, A lot of guys swum in tears. I overheard one lamenting to his friend ‘you remember Anita? That girl that finished all my money in marmi market? Do you know that girl redeployed to Lagos? I swear to God she isn’t going anywhere. She must vomit all the money I spent on her. Another guy I eavesdropped on was like ‘Chioma God will punish you. Why didn’t you tell me you planned to redeploy? How do you plan to pay me back for all that suya I bought you’?

That is the way it is in camp. Nothing goes for nothing. That male Corper following you up and down like housefly is not your missing rib! Camp is not a place for you to fall in love! Those guys won’t love you like Romeo. They won’t let you eat their money and run away. They are not father Christmas. If you know you can’t outwit these guys & go free on the last day then just admit you’re redeploying & do your bills yourself! if you let them spend on you, and you don’t have intentions of paying back one way or the other, they will ambush you and beat daylight Outta you! Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Don’t start travelling to Dubai to buy ring on credit when one who looks like Anthony Joshua winks at you. Those camp guys are mean! Las Las, They are not original husband material!

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‘Peace, take heart you hear’, it’s not the end of world’. ‘Don’t cry o. This one you’re  already blinking unapologetically  like an albino’. ‘hmm peace, could this be your village people  or is this  the will of God for your life?’ ‘Peace as long as there’s life, there’s hope. just go, maybe you’l find your husband there’. 

All These were  what I got as consolations after I painfully broke the news of my deployment to Plateau state. Believe me, breaking that news  was the hardest thing I had ever done asides forcing out strong poop from my very compact anus.

Remember In my post guess who’s back, I had ranted basically about how some kind of  spiritual hunger possessed  me into choosing 2 northern states for my Nysc orientation program?  Truth is, somewhere at the back of my mind, I was sure I wouldn’t be deployed to any of those northern states. Why so? Days after I had  registered and was wallowing in self pity, I got in contact with a man I believed was sent to me by God after he must have been  solely baptized by Angel Gabriel. 

 He promised to offer me direct posting to any state of my choice.  I told him my  placenta was buried in Lagos so I needed to serve in Lagos. He said he would help me, provided I paid  him some thousands of Naira. I concurred. Anything to save my not-too-flattering ass from melting in the very scorching and conniving Northern sun. I convinced my family into giving me the money & after I had made payment & sent my Nysc reg details to that man, I started wearing invisible shoulder pads everywhere I went. You should have seen me. I was too proud to be true. I’d  be shouting Corper weeee,  waaaa waaaa waaaa up and down like an electrocuted she-goat. 

Brethren, I didn’t stop bragging. I didn’t stop talking about being a Lagos Corper. In commercial vehicles, people  be arguing  the reasons Buhari didn’t deserve a 2nd term and I’d be using almighty formula to teach them the 99.9 merits of being a Lagos Corper. My sis would send me to the market & Instead of focusing on the okporoko(stock fish)  I was sent to buy,  I’d start a rambling speech, promising  the market women that I’d renovate the entire market when I finally become a Lagos Corper. Pls you people should ask me when nysc became a governorship campaign. My shoulder pads never lost an ounce of  rigidity and on Several occasions , I’d pick up my phone, go to my whatsapp status to write stuff like ‘Ajuwaya!! Corper weeee o ‘ Eko o ni baje o. ‘Lagos Corper loading 96%. if  you’re sure you’l be a Lagos Corper  do like this☝ so we’d count ourselves…please if you are not sure of your Lagos status, kindly wrinkle that finger b4 I chop it off’!.   luckily,  for some reason, whenever  I was  a click away from uploading  that, something I’d like to call the hand of God would touch me & i’d wipe it off. 

 So i was snuggling with my pillow one unresolved  morning when my friend and all time informat since versity days called to tell me the American visa  call up letter was out. I sprang up like a mad woman who just gained sanity,  logged into my dashboard, saw something that looked like  Plateau State, logged out and went to wash my face.  After that, I went to God in prayer. I can’t remember how many Holy Ghost fire i imported from heaven that morning. With that fire, I had imaginerily burnt up my village people who were trying to follow me, I had burnt down my dashboard and had wiped all the generations of P.l.a.t.e.a.u that had come to dwell on my dashboard. After successfully burning up everything, I started speaking in tongues. There was nothing I didn’t do. I went as far as indulging in an imaginary 40 days dry fasting on the spot.  I kept reminding God about his word in Matthew 7:7.. ‘God I asked for Lagos. why am I seeing something that looks like Plateau’?.dear lord from Lagos to plateau State is approximately 24hrs journey by road. Lord of my destiny! that wasn’t our agreement. Pls I’l be going  back to my dashboard in 5minutes. Pls Lord, instruct your Angels to use their correction pen to make neccessary corrections and let your name be praised . Amen’.

Minutes later I went to my dashboard and unlike before, ‘Plateau’ was more conspicuous as if the person who wrote it before came back to add extra ink. I felt oxygen jilt my nostrils & chills all over my body. Sweaty palms. Stiffened legs. Too many calls were coming in from people who seemed to be curious upon thesame thing ‘peace have you checked your dashboard? Did you get Lagos as you affirmed?  I replied by telling them I couldn’t access my dashboard resulting from bad network at my end & when I heard ‘send me your login let me check it for you’.  I would hang up, never to pick again. At some point my stomach started to rumble. my anus eagerly wanted to ease tension so I rushed to the toilet, and then purged uncontrollably. As I purged, I cried. I cried not primarily bcoz I was deployed to Plateau  but the fact that I had prided myself all along as a Lagos Corper. How exactly do I face the world now? 

 I got out of the toilet and my sister was standing by the door like the stench of my poop was her biggest inspiration. She asked me if I had checked my dashboard and I murmured ‘yes I have. I saw something that looked like Plateau’. She immediately  placed all members of our family on a conference call to tell them how I had wasted the family’s money on a direct posting to Lagos but was eventually  thrown to Kafanchan . I didn’t even wait to hear the last of it. I went to my room, picked my phone and addressed a text to the man who swindled me. I wrote  thus;

‘Mr Cletus. By the time you’d get this text, Amadioha must have written your name in his book of life. so Mr Cletus all this while, you were acting as a middle man btwn my village people and I yet you deceived  me into believing you were sent from God. My God will punish you. The punishment he will give you will come in episodes and by his Grace, all your kids will be deployed to Chad when their time comes. I give you 2secs 1min to refund my money else, I’l invoke amadioha to give you Mouth Action. Wicked man’!

I drafted that text and broke more in tears. I placed a call to him instead, telling him my predicament & how disappointed I was. He apologized & promised to work out a redeployment for me. Wrapping up the call, he said, ‘ but Peace you know Plateau is like London. That place is cold o & it even snows there. Maybe this is how  God is trying to prepare you for the big abroad’. I hung up and even though I tried to see light at the end of the tunnel, I felt betrayed. Everyone had betrayed me including you my blog readers  bcoz y’all  obviously didn’t pray for me despite how much I begged for it . I thought we were a family! 

 In the end, it was just me,God and plateau. Some Friends and loved ones called to sympathize. Others paid me condolence visit. Some laughed at me. Some already gave me northern baptismal names while the rest used my story to teach kids on the topic[i] ‘pride comes before a fall’[/i]. On the deal day, I muffled up my hopes in the hem of God’s garment and with every step I took to the airport, Mr Cletus words became my utmost assurance. I would hit my hand on my Chest and say to myself ‘but Peace, you know  jos is like London. That place is very cold o. It even snows there. Maybe this is God trying to prepare you for the big abroad or maybe, just maybe,  you’l find your husband there’.

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Brothers and sisters! Ever since I made pap for my family members on saturday, they haven’t said a word to me. I understand the lumps inside the pap was big enough to clog up their esophagus. The lumps inside that pap was literally bigger than the akara balls we had bought to eat with it.

That faithful Saturday, I had woken up hungry. This happens when i am offered food in my dream, and just when I have washed my hands to savour the first morsel of the delectable meal, my Sis knocks on my door saying it’s time for morning devotion. Worse part is, when she doesn’t get any sign that I am up from my bed and doing all the yawning and stretching, she starts to sing alarmingly. Her favorite song to sing in such situation is an igbo song which translates to:

Wake up from sleep, Jesus is calling you. Wake up from sleep, he is telling you to wake up!

Because Jesus is reputedly calling me, I have to abandon the food in my dream and wake up empty bellied. When I think about my spiritual food and who might be eating it in place of me, I start getting angry. In a split second, my anger metamorphoses to hunger & I start to vibrate. Let me add that when in vibration mode, I don’t talk to anyone or pick calls b/cos I can swallow you & give you a million reasons why your harmless ‘good morning’ is very harmful to me!

You may be calling to tell me about the fuel scarcity in your province and i’d be telling you how Bakassi boys killed one of my uncle’s in 1997 and how i feel he deserves it b/cos he never bought me anything, not even an okirika shoe pad. You may be calling to ask if I have so so person’s number and i’d be telling you how i wish I was born during that time there was a wedding in Canaan b/cos I feel the attendees didn’t do enough justice to the jollof rice that was served since emphasis were only made on the water which later turned to wine. This is exactly how the chain goes. From interrupting my spiritual meal to me getting angry, and then physically hungry. Last Saturday was one of those days!

After hours of chores that Saturday morning, I cooped up my sis and told her I was really hungry. I tried to speak in hushed tones as i didn’t want her husband to eavesdrop. He had ealier said I ate all the food in the house, yet it wasn’t showing on my body. It really does hurt b/cos i now have to eat low key, when he’s not watching in order to avoid his judgments. So, let’s say we’re all seated in the parlour and a plate of Suya,goat meat, turkey is on the center table, I cannot go for it b/cos he’s there. I don’t want his subconscious saying ‘Yes… I knew it…i knew she would go for it.. Always eating up everything.. Lord have mercy! See how she’s tearing the turkey o.. Poor turkey! Yeah there she goes again…she’s devouring the goat meat now.. eh eh eh… She’s on the suya now. It’s in her mouth..Gbam! She has swallowed it! This girl is a lioness o! She doesn’t even chew before swallowing’, and then, the next morning, he’d look at me like ‘damn! i knew she wouldn’t add 1 flesh even after all that food. what a waste of food’!

Anyways, my Sis looked into my eyes, saw i was genuinely hungry, then asked me to go make pap for everyone. Everyone’s pap is that kinda pap you make in an oversized bowl. I hesitated and told her I couldn’t. I don’t like making pap as much as I love to drink it. It’s easier making pap for just myself because I can drink it anyhow, but making pap for everyone? It’s hard! you cannot make pap if your emotions are not together.


Following my refusal, my Sis started preaching & Schooling me. She told me I would never pass the wife material test if I cannot make perfect pap. I told her my future husby wouldn’t drink pap. She refused to listen to me. She insisted I made it. she said I wouldn’t be the one to change tradition because according to her, the Israelites had drank pap on Saturday’s too. I was tired of arguing with her so I went into the kitchen, hence the end result!

A family meeting will be held this weekend on the reason I cannot make pap at my age and secondly, why I had let my pap disability affect my sister’s children. It was alleged that since they drank the lumpy pap, they haven’t been able to poop. My mom already called to say how disappointed she was at me. All my generational uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces and aunts had texted to ask if the story was true. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amadioha video calls me on the issue Cos I’m certain he already heard it. What I don’t understand is the reason these people are making it a big deal or am I the only person in this world who cannot make pap?

Want to read more of my posts? Go to
Cliquetalk.

Brothers and sisters! Ever since I made pap for my family members on saturday, they haven’t said a word to me. I understand the lumps inside the pap was big enough to clog up their esophagus. The lumps inside that pap was literally bigger than the akara balls we had bought to eat with it.

That faithful Saturday, I had woken up hungry. This happens when i am offered food in my dream, and just when I have washed my hands to savour the first morsel of the delectable meal, my Sis knocks on my door saying it’s time for morning devotion. Worse part is, when she doesn’t get any sign that I am up from my bed and doing all the yawning and stretching, she starts to sing alarmingly. Her favorite song to sing in such situation is an igbo song which translates to:

Wake up from sleep, Jesus is calling you. Wake up from sleep, he is telling you to wake up!

Because Jesus is reputedly calling me, I have to abandon the food in my dream and wake up empty bellied. When I think about my spiritual food and who might be eating it in place of me, I start getting angry. In a split second, my anger metamorphoses to hunger & I start to vibrate. Let me add that when in vibration mode, I don’t talk to anyone or pick calls b/cos I can swallow you & give you a million reasons why your harmless ‘good morning’ is very harmful to me!

You may be calling to tell me about the fuel scarcity in your province and i’d be telling you how Bakassi boys killed one of my uncle’s in 1997 and how i feel he deserves it b/cos he never bought me anything, not even an okirika shoe pad. You may be calling to ask if I have so so person’s number and i’d be telling you how i wish I was born during that time there was a wedding in Canaan b/cos I feel the attendees didn’t do enough justice to the jollof rice that was served since emphasis were only made on the water which later turned to wine. This is exactly how the chain goes. From interrupting my spiritual meal to me getting angry, and then physically hungry. Last Saturday was one of those days!

After hours of chores that Saturday morning, I cooped up my sis and told her I was really hungry. I tried to speak in hushed tones as i didn’t want her husband to eavesdrop. He had ealier said I ate all the food in the house, yet it wasn’t showing on my body. It really does hurt b/cos i now have to eat low key, when he’s not watching in order to avoid his judgments. So, let’s say we’re all seated in the parlour and a plate of Suya,goat meat, turkey is on the center table, I cannot go for it b/cos he’s there. I don’t want his subconscious saying ‘Yes… I knew it…i knew she would go for it.. Always eating up everything.. Lord have mercy! See how she’s tearing the turkey o.. Poor turkey! Yeah there she goes again…she’s devouring the goat meat now.. eh eh eh… She’s on the suya now. It’s in her mouth..Gbam! She has swallowed it! This girl is a lioness o! She doesn’t even chew before swallowing’, and then, the next morning, he’d look at me like ‘damn! i knew she wouldn’t add 1 flesh even after all that food. what a waste of food’!

Anyways, my Sis looked into my eyes, saw i was genuinely hungry, then asked me to go make pap for everyone. Everyone’s pap is that kinda pap you make in an oversized bowl. I hesitated and told her I couldn’t. I don’t like making pap as much as I love to drink it. It’s easier making pap for just myself because I can drink it anyhow, but making pap for everyone? It’s hard! you cannot make pap if your emotions are not together.


Following my refusal, my Sis started preaching & Schooling me. She told me I would never pass the wife material test if I cannot make perfect pap. I told her my future husby wouldn’t drink pap. She refused to listen to me. She insisted I made it. she said I wouldn’t be the one to change tradition because according to her, the Israelites had drank pap on Saturday’s too. I was tired of arguing with her so I went into the kitchen, hence the end result!

A family meeting will be held this weekend on the reason I cannot make pap at my age and secondly, why I had let my pap disability affect my sister’s children. It was alleged that since they drank the lumpy pap, they haven’t been able to poop. My mom already called to say how disappointed she was at me. All my generational uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces and aunts had texted to ask if the story was true. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amadioha video calls me on the issue Cos I’m certain he already heard it. What I don’t understand is the reason these people are making it a big deal or am I the only person in this world who cannot make pap?

Want to read more of my posts? Go to
Cliquetalk.

Brothers and sisters! Ever since I made pap for my family members on saturday, they haven’t said a word to me. I understand the lumps inside the pap was big enough to clog up their esophagus. The lumps inside that pap was literally bigger than the akara balls we had bought to eat with it.

That faithful Saturday, I had woken up hungry. This happens when i am offered food in my dream, and just when I have washed my hands to savour the first morsel of the delectable meal, my Sis knocks on my door saying it’s time for morning devotion. Worse part is, when she doesn’t get any sign that I am up from my bed and doing all the yawning and stretching, she starts to sing alarmingly. Her favorite song to sing in such situation is an igbo song which translates to:

Wake up from sleep, Jesus is calling you. Wake up from sleep, he is telling you to wake up!

Because Jesus is reputedly calling me, I have to abandon the food in my dream and wake up empty bellied. When I think about my spiritual food and who might be eating it in place of me, I start getting angry. In a split second, my anger metamorphoses to hunger & I start to vibrate. Let me add that when in vibration mode, I don’t talk to anyone or pick calls b/cos I can swallow you & give you a million reasons why your harmless ‘good morning’ is very harmful to me!

You may be calling to tell me about the fuel scarcity in your province and i’d be telling you how Bakassi boys killed one of my uncle’s in 1997 and how i feel he deserves it b/cos he never bought me anything, not even an okirika shoe pad. You may be calling to ask if I have so so person’s number and i’d be telling you how i wish I was born during that time there was a wedding in Canaan b/cos I feel the attendees didn’t do enough justice to the jollof rice that was served since emphasis were only made on the water which later turned to wine. This is exactly how the chain goes. From interrupting my spiritual meal to me getting angry, and then physically hungry. Last Saturday was one of those days!

After hours of chores that Saturday morning, I cooped up my sis and told her I was really hungry. I tried to speak in hushed tones as i didn’t want her husband to eavesdrop. He had ealier said I ate all the food in the house, yet it wasn’t showing on my body. It really does hurt b/cos i now have to eat low key, when he’s not watching in order to avoid his judgments. So, let’s say we’re all seated in the parlour and a plate of Suya,goat meat, turkey is on the center table, I cannot go for it b/cos he’s there. I don’t want his subconscious saying ‘Yes… I knew it…i knew she would go for it.. Always eating up everything.. Lord have mercy! See how she’s tearing the turkey o.. Poor turkey! Yeah there she goes again…she’s devouring the goat meat now.. eh eh eh… She’s on the suya now. It’s in her mouth..Gbam! She has swallowed it! This girl is a lioness o! She doesn’t even chew before swallowing’, and then, the next morning, he’d look at me like ‘damn! i knew she wouldn’t add 1 flesh even after all that food. what a waste of food’!

Anyways, my Sis looked into my eyes, saw i was genuinely hungry, then asked me to go make pap for everyone. Everyone’s pap is that kinda pap you make in an oversized bowl. I hesitated and told her I couldn’t. I don’t like making pap as much as I love to drink it. It’s easier making pap for just myself because I can drink it anyhow, but making pap for everyone? It’s hard! you cannot make pap if your emotions are not together.


Following my refusal, my Sis started preaching & Schooling me. She told me I would never pass the wife material test if I cannot make perfect pap. I told her my future husby wouldn’t drink pap. She refused to listen to me. She insisted I made it. she said I wouldn’t be the one to change tradition because according to her, the Israelites had drank pap on Saturday’s too. I was tired of arguing with her so I went into the kitchen, hence the end result!

A family meeting will be held this weekend on the reason I cannot make pap at my age and secondly, why I had let my pap disability affect my sister’s children. It was alleged that since they drank the lumpy pap, they haven’t been able to poop. My mom already called to say how disappointed she was at me. All my generational uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces and aunts had texted to ask if the story was true. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amadioha video calls me on the issue Cos I’m certain he already heard it. What I don’t understand is the reason these people are making it a big deal or am I the only person in this world who cannot make pap?

Want to read more of my posts? Go to
Cliquetalk.