I was seated at the back of the taxi, behind the front passenger, musing to myself. That's when I saw her.
Or rather, I saw her car. It was a fiery red, like a fully mature ata rodo pepper; it was no surprise it caught my attention. She was driving, her side window beside mine.I looked up from admiring the car's hue.

Three rapid blinks at the sight. She was driving, yes. She was also holding a toddler in her arms. With one hand, she turned the steering; with the other, she held a feeding bottle to the baby's mouth.

Beside her sat another girl, perhaps ten or eleven years old; she had no seat-belt on. In the back were two other young children who looked to be four or five years old. Both were standing, holding on to the back of the front seats.

At first, I had no words.
What does one say to this, the sight of a mother who willfully puts her family at risk in this manner? My people, what does one say?

"My God! For real? Is she for real?" I finally exclaimed.

The other passengers swung their heads in my direction.

"No mind am. Na so dem dey do," said one.

"If anything happens now, this one will blame her village people," said another.

"My sister, just leave that one."

But how could I keep quiet?

I know our world says, "Mind your business." If you point out a wrong, they say, "Please, don't judge. He who is without sin, cast the first stone."

But how can I watch my neighbour take hot coals into their bosom, and hope they don't get burned? My people, reason am nah.

The palm wine tapper does not say that because the hunter brought down an elephant by himself, he should carry it home alone. No, my brother. Bring your wine, let me bring my meat. If we help each other, the village will have a feast.

So, I wound down the glass.

"Madam!" I screamed. "Why are you doing this? Why would you put your family at such a risk? If you park and give that child water, will you die?"

My people, some good deeds do not go unpunished. Or resented.

For this woman, she looked over, eyed me, hissed and stepped on the accelerator.

Ah!

My people say, "Edudu uno, afo ate idu ikpong."
This was it; let me help you on your path of life, you say no, I'll live alone.

My fellow passengers were outraged.

"Look at this woman o!" said one.

"See the person you're even trying to help." said another.

The driver sped up. We caught up.


Yes, she'd hissed, she'd eyed me. She'd sped up.
But the baby was now with the teenage girl. Not good, but not as bad as before.

Ah, my people, my people.

It is the same way I felt when I went to buy okrika shoes from Bro Emeka on the overhead bridge. There I was pricing shoes, belaboured by my heavy handbag which was packed for a weekend at Nky's house.

"Sister, this one fit you o!" Emeka enthused.

"See as your leg fresh! For this leg enh, I go marry you dey wash your pant every day."

My people, to God who made me, I would've reprimanded Emeka. This is what woke people call sexual harrassment these days, abi?
But I laughed. Because in Igbo, it did not sound like harassment; it was funny.
In fact, it was 'tikuling my fancy.'

Because what's the use of frowning when Emeka will not understand and probably hike the price of the shoes because I'm "franking my face"?
I'm just saying, my people.

So, I giggled and said, "Emeka stop washing me, biko. I no go buy dis shoe more than teray tahzand."

That's when I heard her. Not her voice, but a loud thump. I swivelled around to see her on the ground. She struggled, tried to get back up but fell again.

It was her eyes. They made me leap forward. The confusion and pain in them.

"Don't touch her!" a man screamed, putting out his arm to block me. "You don't know what made her fall.

I looked up at this man who impeded my movement. I looked around. Movement on the bridge was almost at a stand still. Everyone had given the fallen girl a wide berth. They stood around, watching her struggle.

Ah, my people.

The palm wine tapper does not say that just because helping the hunter carry his elephant back to the village may break his back, he will let him carry it alone.
I pushed the man's arm aside and ran to the girl.

I helped her up, cradled her in my arms. Her face was pale, eyes dull with pain.

"I've got you," I said. "Don't worry. I've got you."

"Please. Hold me. Don't let me go," she whispered softly.

"I won't. I'm here."

Her lids fluttered shut and her head lolled back in a faint.

I glanced up at Emeka. "Send someone to bring me water. Now!"

And just like that, motion resumed on the bridge. Someone brought the water. The girl in my arms came round.

"Please, hold me," she said again.

"Esther...Esther, what happened?" someone interrupted.

A girl, her friend it seemed.

"Do you know her?" I asked.

"I'm her friend. We were walking together and I turned around and didn't see her again."

"Help me hold her up."

My mind went to my bag, which was open.

"God, please don't let anyone steal my phone or wallet," I prayed. Let me not suffer for this.

We dusted her clothes, gave her water. Her friend put on arm around her.

"Thank you," she said as they limped off together.

I watched for a little while. Then I turned back to continue my shopping. As if they were waiting for me, our spectators poured out their comments.

"Nne, what you did was dangerous o! What if she's a witch?" said one.

"Maybe she's possessed sef," said another.

"My dear, you don't help people anyhow. Before they will transfer juju to you."

Ah, my people. Our superstition will not kill us.

"Oga," I said to the first. "What juju or demon can be greater than our humanity and love for one another? Oga, if you fall, I will help you. If something bad will happen, let it happen. But I will not see you in need and watch you struggle. Lailai!"

They all fell silent.

Then the second one said, "Nne, you have a good heart. You're right. God will bless you. All the good that is yours will come to you."

"Amen!" they chorused. As did I.

I tell you, my people, we must say the truth, even if it means we're not minding our so-called business. We must do good, even if it will offend some.

And we must teach others, though it's hard sometimes. Be the change we want to see, abi? Ehen.
In the end, we and our country will be all the better for it.

By the way, do you know that Emeka sold those lovely shoes to me for three thousand naira! Okrika designers. Can you believe it?

Teray tahzand naira onlay!

*
For more real stories like this, visit www.ketimae.

phelanor:
Vision 2020

Exactly!

Hello friends at home, work, road, etc.

It’s that time of the year again, when Nigerian men and women abroad, inbroad and neighbouringcountrybroad will be returning home in droves via the Innit Express, American Ferry, South African Trains, God is Good Gateways, ABC Alphabets and The Young Shall Wakawaka.

Again, if you're in Naija, it’s that time of the year for singles, when Mummy and Daddy you love, uncles and aunties you don’t care about, cousins whose names you don’t remember, neighbours you can barely tolerate, former classmates you never liked, friends and well-wishers etc., will come and be asking you that very annoying question: When are you getting married?

In previous years, this may have caused you some sleepless nights and even had some of you afraid of going home. Well, fret no more. I have come up with a solution to this problem—a comprehensive list of answers you can present to your friends and family this season.

*Terms and conditions apply sha.
*Please use at your discretion. If these answers should result in any fights or feuds, the author shall not be held liable. Not suitable for singles still living with their parents or guardians.
Here goes!

PART A
These tame, cheeky answers can be used for parents, guardians and those on whose good side you want to remain.
“So, when are you getting married?”.... :

“When I’m ready.”
“When I find The One/my Soulmate.”
“I’m waiting for God’s will.”
“February 31st.”
“When you stop asking me.”

PART B
The answers here are for situations where you want to be a bit sarcastic and quickly throw off your interrogators.
“So, when are you getting married?”:

“When she proposes.”
“Are you proposing?”
“I’m joining the seminary.”
“My sugarmummy won’t permit me.”
“He proposed and I said no.”

PART C
Now, if you really want to shake things up, cause some kwanta or be disowned, these answers in PART C are just perfect!

Aunty-wey-too-like-gossip: “So, when are we coming to eat rice?”
“When the Federal Government lifts the ban on rice importation.”
"When Abakaliki rice comes in a sachet."

“When is that young man bringing your father wine?”
“When he opens his own wine shop.”

Neighbour Whatshisname: “When are you getting married?”
“During the next blood moon.”
“This year...next year...sometime or never.."

That Uncle that likes to hug too tight: “My baby, you’re not getting any younger. When are you bringing home a man/wife?”
“Uncle, you’re not getting younger either. When are you bringing home an undertaker?”
“When bride price is abolished.”
“I’m too much for one man and not enough for two.”

Nosy Former Classmate: “My dear, why are you still single?”
“You, why are you still married?”
“I’m waiting for Nicki Minaj to become born again/ I’m waiting for Idris Elba to get a divorce.”
“I’m gay. In Naija. Figure it out.”

That Aunty that’s not even related to you: “My daughter, time is not on your side.”
“How are we related again?”
“What’s the rush? We’ve only been dating for ten years. Give us time, abeg.”

Oversabi Colleague: “When are we wearing your aso-ebi?”
“Tomorrow. Didn’t you get the Facebook invitation?”
“Do you want to sponsor the wedding?”
“My single hasn’t yet expired.”

Concerned Pastor: “My brother/sister, I’m worried about you. When are you planning to change your single status?”
“Even the son of man knoweth not the time or day…”
“I have a spirit husband/wife….and I don’t want to commit adultery by marrying someone else in the physical.”
“Single may last for a night, but marriage cometh in the morning.”
“No condition is permanent.
“In God we trust.”

That money-miss-road-cousin: “Coz, coz, how far nah?”
“To infinity and beyond.”

Eketi Ette ©2015.
Twitter: @Ketimay
Instagram: @ketimae
Blog: ketimae.
Facebook: https://mobile.facebook.com/ThisEketi/?ref=bookmarks

tpia@:
all these plagiarism rants everywhere, even for work that isnt up to par, whats so special about unending rants all the time?

anybody can rant i should think.

You're such an unhappy person, do you know that? Pity.

tpia@:
you are too angry and need to get over yourself.

i just saw another of your rants, is there a man or men putting up with all this crap you spew or are you letting off steam from loneliness and attention seeking.

try to get out more, it can help clear your cobwebs.

After reading your comment, I do truly believe you're the one who needs to be out in the world, bro.

ireneidiva: I don't know what to say.

The speechlessness is a good thing, right?

Miner13: Womanly wise you put nice thread above average about yourself

I'll take this as a compliment, yes?

crackhaus: LoL!

Okay this was surprisingly logical in some points (especially the pounding yam and the C-section rant), funny in most (especially your iroko-tree hair rant), and downright ridiculous in others (especially that washing machine rant).

Unlike you who wishes your mother were reading this, I wish she were not, and I wish even more that she never hears you say it.

Of course the times are changing, but you're not supposed to accelerate your principles and ethics so fast just to keep up. Different families/marriages work differently, but I'm really sorry to say that only few in Nigeria survive on most of those points up there.

I don't understand what you mean by "accelarating my ethics and principles" Washing clothes by hand isn't an ethic or principle. I'm saying that there's no need to kill oneself or suffer over a particular chore if one can get a labour-saving device or better and easier way to do so.

Oahray: Omg! Keti? Is that you? On NL?

LOL! Turtle?That you?

Some people are going to disagree with this, but then opinions are like teeth; everyone has them

I don't get and will never understand why some people believe that if something's not done the hard way, then it isn't good or worth doing. NEWSFLASH:
I AM NOT WONDERWOMAN!

God bless the man or woman who first thought of and invented matchsticks. I cannot imagine hitting two rocks together to make fire and then keep it burning until the next day. God also bless whoever invented gas cookers and kerosene stoves.

When I hear some women speak badly of and look down on other women because they had C-Sections instead of womanly births, I can only think how silly they are. How can you tell another woman that she's less than a woman because she didn't have a "normal" delivery? Any woman who's gone through nine months of carrying another human being and successfully birthed that person, should be congratulated! If you think otherwise, you should have your head checked!

God bless whoever discovered and perfected C-Sections. As for those who thinks that a woman who adopted and raised any number of wonderful kids isn't their mother because she didn't carry them in her womb.....*sigh* Jesus won't like me to say or even think what I'm thinking of you.

You carry your hair au naturel; good for you! I relax mine. There's nothing like "Yaaay! We natural girls rock!" Or "We processed hair girls are the bomb!" Neither's special. Hair is hair. I don't need to spend hours combing and grooming my thick, kinky locks to qualify for the Africanness Award. My hair happens to have the texture of an iroko tree firewood; sometimes, it even feels like my mum's iron sponge used for washing pots. That's the reason I usually say, God bless whoever invented hair relaxers! You don't like it or think you're better than me, well suck a sour udara!

See, I hate doing laundry! Using my hands to scrub clothes clean isn't my idea of fun. I bless whoever invented washing machines! Washing clothes by hand doesn't make me any more of a woman than I am, neither does using a washing machine make me less of a woman. So, for those ladies who think that a washing machine is an unnecessary household item to own, in my friend's words, yimu and yamu to you!

I HATE pounding yam! (I really hope my mum is reading this part ) Long, long, arduous minutes of up and down movements that leave my arms feeling like they're made of melted butter and my body drenched in perspiration is no joke!
I don't care if your grandmother fed the entire nation from the yam she pounded all by herself in her sacred, home-cooking mortar; if you won't eat Poundo or pound the yam yourself, please press ALT+CTRL+COMOT key. Better still, visit the buka or restaurant nearest to you.

I can multitask, yes. But I REFUSE to overstretch myself like I'm Mister Fantastic Reed Richards in the Fantastic Four.

In this day and time, where both parents earn a living in most families, expecting a woman to always balance a career and a home without some form of help is rubbish! You that keeps frowning at a woman because she has a housemaid, what's your problem? Shebi that Virtuos Woman in the book of Proverbs 31 whom you often quote and hold up as the ultimate role model had maids, abi? And stop comparing me to those stars!
Angelina Jolie is not Superwoman! She has professional nannies, cooks, laundrymen, live-in makeup artiste, etc. Her PA has a PA for Pete's sake! So think twice when next you want to tell me how well she balances her career and family!

Finally, I am not yet the woman in Proverbs 31. I mean, I can bring my food from afar (it's called ordering take out or take away); I can plant a vineyard (although on my mum's farm, all I planted was yam, cassava, cocoyam, water-yam, pepper, waterleaf, scentleaf, melons, okro, pumpkin, etc).
I still don't know how to spin thread from cotton with a spindle and staff, neither do I know how to make fine linen and sell it. If you still think I'm incomplete because of it....well, I'm wondering what you'd look like with a boil on your left eye.

Some people are going to disagree with this, but then opinions are like teeth; everyone has them

I don't get and will never understand why some people believe that if something's not done the hard way, then it isn't good or worth doing. NEWSFLASH:
I AM NOT WONDERWOMAN!

God bless the man or woman who first thought of and invented matchsticks. I cannot imagine hitting two rocks together to make fire and then keep it burning until the next day. God also bless whoever invented gas cookers and kerosene stoves.

When I hear some women speak badly of and look down on other women because they had C-Sections instead of vaginal births, I can only think how stupid they are. How can you tell another woman that she's less than a woman because she didn't have a "normal" delivery? Any woman who's gone through nine months of carrying another human being and successfully birthed that person, should be congratulated! If you think otherwise, you should have your head checked!

God bless whoever discovered and perfected C-Sections. As for those who thinks that a woman who adopted and raised any number of wonderful kids isn't their mother because she didn't carry them in her womb.....*sigh* Jesus won't like me to say or even think what I'm thinking of you.

You carry your hair au naturel; good for you! I relax mine. There's nothing like "Yaaay! We natural girls rock!" Or "We processed hair girls are the bomb!" Neither's special. Hair is hair. I don't need to spend hours combing and grooming my thick, kinky locks to qualify for the Africanness Award. My hair happens to have the texture of an iroko tree firewood; sometimes, it even feels like my mum's iron sponge used for washing pots. That's the reason I usually say, God bless whoever invented hair relaxers! You don't like it or think you're better than me, well suck a sour udara!

See, I hate doing laundry! Using my hands to scrub clothes clean isn't my idea of fun. I bless whoever invented washing machines! Washing clothes by hand doesn't make me any more of a woman than I am, neither does using a washing machine make me less of a woman. So, for those ladies who think that a washing machine is an unnecessary household item to own, in my friend's words, yimu and yamu to you!

I HATE pounding yam! (I really hope my mum is reading this part ) Long, long, arduous minutes of up and down movements that leave my arms feeling like they're made of melted butter and my body drenched in perspiration is no joke!
I don't care if your grandmother fed the entire nation from the yam she pounded all by herself in her sacred, home-cooking mortar; if you won't eat Poundo or pound the yam yourself, please press ALT+CTRL+COMOT key. Better still, visit the buka or restaurant nearest to you.

I can multitask, yes. But I REFUSE to overstretch myself like I'm Mister Fantastic Reed Richards in the Fantastic Four.

In this day and time, where both parents earn a living in most families, expecting a woman to always balance a career and a home without some form of help is rubbish! You that keeps frowning at a woman because she has a housemaid, what's your problem? Shebi that Virtuos Woman in the book of Proverbs 31 whom you often quote and hold up as the ultimate role model had maids, abi? And stop comparing me to those stars!
Angelina Jolie is not Superwoman! She has professional nannies, cooks, laundrymen, live-in makeup artiste, etc. Her PA has a PA for Pete's sake! So think twice when next you want to tell me how well she balances her career and family!

Finally, I am not yet the woman in Proverbs 31. I mean, I can bring my food from afar (it's called ordering take out or take away); I can plant a vineyard (although on my mum's farm, all I planted was yam, cassava, cocoyam, water-yam, pepper, waterleaf, scentleaf, melons, okro, pumpkin, etc).
I still don't know how to spin thread from cotton with a spindle and staff, neither do I know how to make fine linen and sell it. If you still think I'm incomplete because of it....well, I'm wondering what you'd look like with a boil on your left eye.

tpia@:


yes, new id, you need to take a deep breath, calm down then explain why other people's money concerns you so much.

you have none of your own maybe, or you want more in addition to what you say you already have.

Lol....amusing comment. I'm actualy beginning to think you didn't read the piece.

Wulfruna: Welcome to Nairaland, Keti. In time, u'll learn that it isn't worth ur time to engage some people here in an argument.

I love ur perspective on this. Perceptive...as always.

Thank you, Wulfruna. I'm already getting a taste of what you meant

tpia@:
Is this rant about your relatives?

Maybe you need to address them directly, instead of displaying aggression on nl.

Really, tpia? That's really what you thought when you read the article? Tsk tsk...

Akshow: U raised good points op and I get where u are coming from. Its truly sickening to see people expect u to deal with their shaiit. But on d oda hand, I guess u are a 'been to'and u are comparing Nigeria's extended family system to the 'individualized' western world.

I wouldn't call myself a "been-to" and I know the place of the extended family. But look at the economy today and the high cost of living and tell me if it is still proper that we indulge relatives who irresponsibly keep on having children they can't care for and saddle them on others.

Wulfruna: KETI IS ON NAIRALAND!!!!!! *shriek*

Hahahahahah...Why are you so shocked? A certain someone's shenanigans finally dragged me here

I know it happens in other countries, but the sense of entitlement by many Nigerians is truly sickening. The rate at which many of them feel entitled to the properties, monies, time, effort etc of others, makes you almost want to throw something at them.If it's not uncles in the village waiting for a nephew to die of natural causes, so he can inherit his properties; or as is often the case, aid the process along by killing the said nephew, it is someone somewhere, condemning another for using his money or property in the way that he or she wishes to do so.

You man, is your name Mister Siddon Chop? Why will you not get off your behind and do something for yourself? Where is your sense of shame? Why would you feel comfortable always being at the receiving end, collecting and never giving? Why are you happy, going from one uncle's house to the other, begging for money instead of getting a job? And if they refuse to give you the money you ask for or give you a sum less than you expected, you go around telling every member of the family that his wife has bewitched him and stopped him from throwing open his pockets to the family leeches? Who told you that you can be indolent and sashay through your life, placing your hopes on the fact that your father will one day pass away and leave you the sole heir of his property? You even go as far as picking up girls on this premise, promising them the good things that you have no claim on.
YOU NO GET SHAME? If you have no shame, I have volunteered to be ashamed on your behalf.

You woman, is your name Madam Give Me All? Why would you not get up and apply for a job like many people out there are doing? Or if you don't want to work for someone, why don't you start your own business? Who told you that it is okay for you to go round, begging for money from men? Today you call Peter to take you for lunch, tomorrow you call Paul for dinner. They may say they're willing to be your maga, but for how long will you keep paying?
The law of diminishing returns will soon set in and that body you think is your strong point, will fade like a trampled flower on a cold hamarttan morning. Who told you that it is okay to buy all the latest phones (from your ATMs - Aristo's Throway Money), latest fashionable clothes, shoes, jewelry and yet, you keep bouncing from one girlfriend's house to another, squatting? If you're staying in some other person's rented apartment for more than one year, that one is no more squatting or temporary accommodation o! You are now a tenant-at-will. YOU NO GET SHAME? Cos if you've got none, I don volunteer to shame for you!

I cannot, and will never understand people who have more children than they can raise and then begin to farm them out and burden relations with their offspring. Too often, I see people come and dump their children in a relation's home. Those
children are fed, clothed and given an education. However, they soon begin to use those children as James Bond's local contact on a spy operation. They want to know all that's going on in that family, they seek to manipulate event there and sometimes, even try to destroy the home. Yes, destroy. A lady once let her niece come and live with her. She lost her husband to the young girl. The shocking part was where the niece's mother got angry and accused the lady of being selfish. Why wouldn't she let other people in the family partake of the good thing she'd found? she said. Shocking, isn't it.
In a court case I was privy to, after one of the hearings in court while everyone was still milling around outside, the plaintiff's brothers clearly told him to the hearing of all that were present, "Bet here, you will soon die and we will inherit your property."
The man did die soon thereafter. Unfortunately, one cannot prove voodoo in court.
Then there are those ones who believe that since they contributed even a meager sum to your school fees, they're entitled to you and all that is yours, for the rest of your life and theirs. Some even seek to extend that obligation after their deaths with words like, "These my nine children, they're now your children o! Now that I'm going to meet our ancestors, please take care of them. Make sure they all go to school and become graduates"; conveniently forgetting that you've got family and responsibilities of your own.

I pity men that try to pick up a woman and begin to say, "Oh, my father owns Sheraton, the Transcorp Hilton and Virgin Atlantic Airways." Really? What do YOU own?
Someone who can afford it, buys a seventy-thousand naira phone and you scream blue murder. What extravagance, you say! Well, has it occurred to you that your ten-thousand naira phone is an obscene expenditure for someone who pays one thousand naira for her son's fees at the government school down your street and has no money to pay for the third term? Or do you know that somewhere, someone would fall ill if they heard you spent five thousand naira on a pair of shoes?

Sometime ago, the news in the social media was that Mike Adenuga bought a burial vault in Ikoyi for two hundred million naira (200,000,000.00 naira). There's nothing I didn't hear people say.
"That money should be used for the poor." How much have you given to the poor in your lifetime and how many poor people have you given something to? That man that sits down the street, begging, have you ever given him one thousand naira? Two? Five? Have you ever bought him new clothes?
"What a waste!" His money, abi?

"All this for a body that will rot!" At least he knows he'll die one day and is making arrangements. You, have you even written a will? Have you made any arrangements so that those who survive you won't have to pawn off the very clothes on their backs in order to give you a befitting burial?
And one that was so ridiculous: "Imagine! We that are buying phone lines and recharge cards from him have never seen a million and he's wasting two hundred like this?" Wait, bro! Did you just give him money and walk away or did you pay for a service that was rendered? Did someone stop you from being like him? Were you even born when he began to work for his money? Have you ever asked him for money and he refused to give any to you?

I'm not saying those who have much should not share or give to those in need, if they can. I am saying they shouldn't be forced, cursed or nagged into doing so. Even God, who own all things, says that He loves a cheerful giver and each man should give according to what is in his heart.
Wake up and do something! Make something of yourself. Stop expecting others to always be the ones to give to you. Get tired of collecting handout and charity. Just stop policing the way another person spends their money or uses their property. It is theirs.
Quit blaming your uncle or brother's wife for the little they can spare from their savings for the indolent you. Take responsibility for yourself.
As for those who do nothing but lie in wait, plan for and hope to inherit other people's property, God help you!

Thank you, Mz Vox for finally acknowledging your source.
Thank you to my friends and blog followers who not only recognized my work, but notified me and spoke against it's unacknowledged recopying.
Thank you, NairaLand administrators, who contacted me and ensured that the proper source is acknowledged.
God bless everyone.

Wu Zetian:

Yawa don gas!

How do we know you are the owner/original writer of the article?

This is how you'll know.....follow my blog and you'll read it there, along with the other stories I have there. Just click on http://rachaelzheart./
(I just hope I'm not risking further plagiarism)

ileobatojo:


If you are truly the original writer, kudos for an excellent piece!


[size=5pt]*If you are a NL troll, mtschieew!*[/size]

I am the original author. You can view it on my blog and read other articles and stories I put up there. Just click http://rachaelzheart./
thank you

Mz Vox,
Because you stole my work, I have had to join Nairaland today. I am not happy at the way you refused to do the right thing and acknowledge that this is my work. Instead, you've verbally abused those who called you out for doing so. I could bring legal action against you for this, because the work is under copyright, but I won't.
I'm not saying you shouldn't share for others to learn. But for Pete's sake, if you copy someone's work, have the DECENCY to write down the author's name!