₦airaland Forum

Oga.. Satisfy the urge and forget this long story.
Sex or no sex, what will be will be.

Steph.. Your mother and I stayed up all night to make this up for you.
And you just exposed it to the world!!
We are not happy.

Believe it or not, that story up there is true.
It happened in Arondizuogu village. The family's name is Ononikpoakunauba's family.
Forget pictures, spend transport money and go see for yourself.

philantoxx:
*falls from high tension wire*

Na there you dey charge your phone ni??
If you die ehn, your papa go use koboko finish you.

I guess that's because more often than not, the male child is snapped up immediately by either of the parties.
But the hypothesis is biased.

Well, asking me for money will demand that she gets my approval for the use. But I won't tell when I send money to my family, except if it may cause problems.

The fish burrowed into the man and stayed alive in there??
This is miraculous. The story is scanty though.

You easily get bored. That's all.. Use your quiet times to develop yourself intellectually.

I will patronize them and go home early myself.
One can't criticize them because we don't know where they are coming from.
If they had a proper life, they would be in the proper place at the proper time.

You have a good topic. But it is low on quality.
Even if what you posted are basically true, I'm still not convinced on the bias.

Give an example of the habit you call 'hostile'. I strongly feel you meant to say intolerant, icky or something like that. Hostility has never been experienced by me.

Damn..

I'm convinced you're very proud of yourself after posting this, right?

A drug should be invented for containing teenage hormones on rampage.

Chicken noodle soup huh??

Copy and paste creates room for loss of identity.. Perhaps, if you had homed in, you'll discover this is out of place in Nigeria.

Agbo is more like it.

The injustice brought upon the poor by wealth will not just end.
I was at home preparing the environment for my late grandfather's burial when two people, a lady and a younger-looking man came around.
We exchanged pleasantries and I inquired whom they are.
They told me they were the owners of one of the lands my grandfather had in his possession over some money borrowed almost twenty-five years ago in exchange. The agreement was to come for the land whenever they had the money.
Since my father had given me the green light to oversee these transactions, I went to retrieve the land receipt, handwritten by my late grandfather on the day of the exchange.
As I read through the receipt, in search of the amount for which the land was exchanged, I came across a writing, which was in fact a warning. It said:
"Never release the land to any other person except my first daughter, Chiagbugwu and my first son. They will come together for the land."
I then inquired after their individual names. The name of the man checked out as the son, but the lady's name didn't. So, I politely told them to come back after the burial, for I didn't really understand what was written in the receipt. Then, I said, my father would preside over this affair. Then, they left.
In a casual discussion with my mother after the burial, I told my mother what transpired on that day. She then narrated to me, the circumstances under which that land was given to our family, as she was told by her mother-in-law, my late grandmother.
Their family had two sons, the lessor of the land and his elder brother. His elder brother was financially blessed and this also lifted his own children, his five males especially into the comfort zone. This, unfortunately, didn't favour the younger brother. He had his first son (let's call him Charles) after four daughters and at a much later stage. By this time, the sons of his elder brother were doing well, and began to take over the family's lands for their own private use.
Charles father, sensing danger, quickly took two of the lands to my grandfather. He explained to him that his son (only son afterwards) was still too young to need these lands immediately and that at the rate his brother's children were using up their father's lands, there might be nothing left for his son, and he is not even sure of their permanent residence in their father's compound, as in Igbo tradition, the first born son is usually entitled to their father's compound.
The money he borrowed for the land was just a cover. What he really did was to insure his son's future. The reason he picked the first daughter to come with the son is at that time, only she understood the value of having a family land over money. So had the agreement remained till date.
About three years ago, while Charles was still struggling to make ends meet in Libya, one of the sons of Charles' uncle came to retrieve the land but met my grandparents' stiff refusal. It almost degenerated into a heated court case, but after seeing the receipt of the transaction, the issue was thrown out of court.
I'm sure they'll be back. We'll be waiting.
Bloody thieves.

On frontpage, you'll see
"Toughest Universities to enter."

If this is a thread presumably created by a scholar in a tertiary institution, or even a jambite, he/she could have done better with the topic. If the topic was edited otherwise, hmmm..

"Most difficult Universities to gain admission into."

Examine carefully..

There is this really strange traditional therapy I'm undergoing now. Strange to me, that is, but not new to the people of my hometown, Mbaise in Imo State.
It actually started after my grandfather's burial in my hometown. At times, I would feel woozy and very tired that I won't do any other thing. Suddenly, I'll be well again.
One night, my mother asked me to get ₦2,000 and come with her. I did just that and she took me to a herbalist's. I was quite angry that she didn't tell me first (of course, I would object firmly), but I kept my cool and listened. My mother then asked me to give the cash to the man. The man then asked me to come the next day, which is an 'Eke' market day for the treatment is only giving on that day. I and my mother left. I said nothing to her.
The next morning at 6 a.m, my mother came to wake me up. I just washed my face and mouth, wore a simple cloth and headed for the herbalist's.
When I knocked on the door, he came out and asked me to sit in the hall and wait. Soon, his wife came out, holding a tiny jar containing a black liquid. She asked me to open my eyes wide, and as I did, she dipped the tip of her first finger into the liquid and put it in both eyes, under the supervision of her husband.
After about five seconds, madness came in. The pain in my eyes began to escalate and as I move to rub it, the herbalist told me not to. Instead, he said I should allow the tears wash the liquid away.
I couldn't keep my eyes open but the tears flowed anyways. The tiny crystals like sand in the liquid hurt my eyes as I kept them shut most times. The pain set fire to my brain. I endured this for what seemed like eternity (but surely not more than twenty minutes). Soon, the woman came with a brown concoction in a tiny cup and asked me to drink it. I drank it in one gulp and although it was bitter, the pain in my eyes didn't let me notice it.
A few minutes later, she came out again with a tiny bark from a tree I definitely don't know. She asked me to chew it and swallow the juice continuously. Still in pain, I plopped the stick in my mouth and chewed it, concentrating on making the peppery feeling in my eyes go away. My God, the stick is the complete definition of 'BITTER!'. I frowned immediately and opened my left eye to see the herbalist watching me. I kept on chewing and swallowing, not knowing where to focus my endurance on; the pain in my eyes or the bitter bark in my mouth.
After some time, the woman came and asked me to clean my eyes with my shirt, which I gratefully did. She then asked me to shut my eyes tight. I did this, wondering which type of torment would be next. I saw her carry a liquid white paste while she came in and she rubbed it on my tightly shut eye brows. Then she asked me to open them.
By now, the pains had subsided quite noticably, leaving the annoyingly bitter taste from the 'thing' in my mouth. I proceeded to check out my new look in my blank phone screen and I saw that the paste made a border around each eye, making me look like a hebalist in movies. I decided there and then that I must follow the bush paths home.
She finally came out again with some leaves bound in cocoyam leaves and held fast with raffia fibres. She asked me to boil them in water and after allowing the steam to cloud my body for some minutes, that I should bath with it for four days, after which I would return for a fresh treatment and fresh leaves for the next four days. Then I was told I could leave.
I left. Immediately I was out of sight, I spat out the stick and hurried home before those who knew me would see me in this 'cosmetics'.
Today is the 3rd Eke market day since I begun the therapy. Although it is raining now, I'm looking forward to going for it. Having stayed here long enough, I've learnt the foolishness in doubting igbo beliefs, customs and traditions with careless abandon.

THE REASON

I had the most direct contact with my grandfather, since the death of his wife three years ago, till he died on Sept 27th.
It is believed that the woozy distracted feelings I was experiencing are onsets of what happens when one takes care of a person (young or elderly), till his/her death. It is believed that the blood of that person will disturb the person and may result in death.
I'ld have doubted it due to 'hearsay' but I just witnessed an aunt who lost her baby in Mozambique two months after delivery, go through the same phase. When she first arrived Nigeria, her mental and bodily health were far from normal, but now as we speak, she is preparing to go back to join her husband. The alarming part is that clinical examination and diagnosis shows up nothing!!
That's Igbo beliefs for you. As I write, a recent event comes to mind. A staunch 'christian' claimed not to believe in any traditional bullshit. He went ahead to give his mother food and drinks used on his father's burial day, saying nothing will happen. His mother will be buried next week, according to her obituary poster I saw yesterday.

emmyrichie:
Wish I could forget that event. Each time something remind me that betrayal, I feel pained, and consequently my dislike for that dude would gain momentum.

If only there's a delete button on our memories...

You know, it's not easy to forget.
It's almost impossible to forget events that make you bleed.
But life goes on.
I'm like that as well, finding it difficult to forget hurt for I almost never hurt people.
Still, you, as well as I, have our lives in front of us. We just have to keep forging ahead.
Not asking you to simply forget. Just telling you to focus on what is in front of you. With time, the pain would be as far away as the memory.

I'm not in your shoes, but brooding over that pastor is a waste of unavailable time.
Your relationship was with the girl, not the pastor, so in reality, he was/is virtually insignificant to your welfare in all ramifications.
You're just making a mountain out of a mole hill by committing him to mind.
Six years from then is enough time to have garnered heavier priorities that require your attention far better than lazing over dirt-strewn memories.

Matters of the heart die hard but the shortness of life creates no allowance to heal in comfort either.

Jungle justice in a civilized country.
Poor sense of judgement.
Not that much is expected from that region though
Such irrational youth and their accompanying crowd mentality are the reasons the country sees little positive progress and why boko haram was a success.

I saw his convoy as they passed by Douglas Road.
Imagine them shooting in the air for whatever reasons, as if the sirens are not loud enough to alert people of their movement.
These governors-to-be though.

You were taking a casual stroll one morning. The weather was perfect, chilly but sunny all the same. You whistled as you walked along.
As you took a right turn, you saw a very pretty lady, looking like something straight off a magazine.
She walked smoothly seductive like a runway model, her height a few inches shy of yours. The sexy blouse and matching trousers she wore fit like a second skin. Your own walking step adjusted to exude confidence as you quickened your movement to make a pass. You passed your palm over your face a first time and looked yourself over just to be sure.
As you neared her, you pass your palm over your face again. Suddenly, you perceive a musky smell, making your hand pause over your nose. Your nose wrinkled as you turned right and then left, sniffing slightly to detect the direction of the smell.
A frown crossed over your face as you discovered the smell was coming directly from your front; from your target.
Your step slowed down, as your brain interpreted the smell of sweat, dirt and decomposing cosmetics, which could only emanate from an unwashed hair!
Jesus! Her hair smells so bad. By now, you have slowed down into a crawl, debating whether to turn left or right, because moving forward isn't such a cute option anymore.
Alas, the most splendid dream has faded into a nightmare. Her attempts to look more beautiful has unleashed something more repulsive.
You like her but you wouldn't have anything to do with THAT HAIR!!

N.B: This is a rendition of an original experience.. No reaction is needed or expected either.

Lordlexyy:
..What is the moral of lady camping with another man before marriage?

You must have missed this..

Deschyko: ..I support you giving morals to ladies,.

Perhaps, you should slow your row when it comes to reacting.
My point is, the end justifies the means.
I'm not one of so many words in my serious moments.

Gorgeous58:
So, how do you propose we do that?

I'm unleashing mine already..
Except you're proposing a competition elsewhere.

Gorgeous58:
Just replied your email

For which I am grateful.
Hope you do not mind me always derailing your threads?

Gorgeous58:
You are finally here. Been waiting for you

Yes I am. Been looking for you also.

Gorgeous58:
And you think you can be creative? Let's put that to a test

Accepted!!