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PoliticsRe: Stella Oduah: Defending The Nigerian Child by netozii(op): 9:36am On May 27, 2018
DrMuzungu:
This well-fed (read: orobo) "princess" should be in prison for funds embezzlement instead of being free to make political statements.
This is a clear sign that you are either not following the Nigerian politics or you are dumb. Senator Oduah is one of the best things that happen to the Nigerian political circle. Ask people she is representing
PoliticsStella Oduah: Defending The Nigerian Child by netozii(op): 8:45am On May 27, 2018
In the world where adults dictate the fate of everyone, no group is as vulnerable as the children. Apart from being dependent on the adults, they have no one to stand for them but the adults. But like the saying goes: 'child is the father of man', the children of today would be the adults of tomorrow; and if properly taking care of, they would take care of the generation to come. In a country like Nigeria, with a lot of social challenges to tackle, the great Senator Stella Oduah found it necessary to Co-sponsor a motion that would affect the Nigerian Child.

In the motion, the Senator representing Anambra North and other co-sponsors highlighted the plights of the Nigerian child which have disfavored the Nigerian children of today placing them behind most children in another part of the world and children that were born in the Nigeria of yesterday.

It is true that the National Health Act of 2014 gives the pregnant women, the elderly, the disabled and the children the right for free medical services in all public hospitals; nevertheless, till hitherto, the act is not fully implemented across the country that has high infant and maternal mortality rate.

Senator Oduah believes that every child in this country should enjoy free basic education, free medical services, and at least government provision of food to the children in schools. She has shown over and again that her presence in the upper chamber placed her in the right position to play a mother to the children of this great nation.

It is a beautiful feat that the Children Rights Act was passed by the Senate President, Senator Buckola Saraki, and as we celebrate the Children today, we encourage every sector and people like Senator Stella Oduah that work towards the welfare of the children. They should not relent in their commendable struggle and God will be their strength.

Happy Children's day.

#TEAM ISSOM

PoliticsAssassination Attempt At APC Rally In Anambra State by netozii(op): 8:31pm On Oct 26, 2017
A hired assassin was caught at Ayamelum in Anambra State at APC guber rally.

Youths should not sacrifice their lives. He was mobbed by the youths and was nearly lynched before the police came and apprehended him.

In the rally was Dr Tony Nwoye, the gubernatorial candidate of APC.

LiteratureRe: Chimamanda Adichie, Her Parents And Brothers Pictured In Baltimore by netozii(m): 6:38pm On Oct 07, 2017
The greatest woman on earth. Smart and Beautiful. Lovely family. We are all proud of you
25 Likes 2 Shares
CrimeS.o.s: Abuja Electricity Distribution Company Ordeal by netozii(op): 6:23am On Oct 06, 2017
As a bachelor in a 2-bedroom bungalow, and having a job that drags me away from FCT, made it a chilling discomfort whenever AEDC brings their bloated bills. I managed to pay for a few months, and in late March of this year, I travelled to the East and stayed for a full month and did not step into Abuja until the 3rd day of May. I was not surprised when I noticed that my light cable was disconnected, but I felt depressed when I saw N9,900.00 bill for the month of April (Which I did not even stay for a second). I went to the office to complain, and they told me that I would have written to AEDC before I traveled. With that demoralizing experience, I paid the bill and desperately begged for a pre-paid meter. I was told to pay N25,000.00 into my AEDC account for a meter. Which I did immediately on that 4th of May. .

It took AEDC 2 months to wipe out my N25,000.00 and still, no meter was sent to me. In August, I wrote to their Wuse Zone 4 headquarters and they promised to tackle my issue within 2 weeks. A promise unfulfilled. Then, later in August, I got a job that would take me away from FCT, and I knew that I would spend not less than two months, so I wrote to inform AEDC in a letter dated 3rd of September informing them that I would leave on the 7th of September and would not be in Abuja until November. They took the letter in Bwari Area Council without acknowledging it. I complained through AEDC Twitter handle and was assured that someone will call me from their office.

Since the 6th of September till date, I have written over 30 times to the company (through twitter) begging them to suspend my account and possibly cut-off my power-supply cable till I am back. Each message got a speed response that says: 'Your complaint has been forwarded...'

Then 2 weeks later, I got a call from AEDC - the Katampe service unit. When I communicated my address to the caller, I was told that my complaint was sent to the wrong service unit that I should write back to AEDC and tell them to resend my complaint to Bwari unit. I reported back to their Twitter-handle - this time, I tagged Minister Fashola - and was told by AEDC to visit Bwari.

How could I have made it? I am thousands of miles away from Abuja. I began afresh to write to them. I resent every information I gave them from 6th of September. I reinform them that I was not in Abuja and would still be away for months. They promised to contact me from Bwari; yet no one called.

It is a month gone now. I still will be away for another month or more. I was made to pay N25,000.00 for a pre-paid meter which I did not see.

The bills are scary enough whenever it comes, but causes cardiac arrest when you know you are paying a bill for what you did not use for a second. By the time I will return, in their usual manner, they must have summed up over N20,000.00 bill and if I keep mute, it would grow as the day goes by.

I appeal to the company to do the needful, and to great people of Nigeria to assist me with a workable solution. I have done all I know.

Thank You
Ozioma Anieto
Twitter: @ozii_baba

LiteratureThe Python And The Dance: The Temptations Of Okolobia Agu by netozii(op): 8:33am On Sep 18, 2017
In the olden days, on the banks of a River known till this day as Omambara, there was a town named after that River whose protector was Ani: the goddess of the Earth. And the good old Okolobia-Agu was her priest. Okolobia was unarguably the wisest man that lived on this earth.

And it happened that a law was made by the founding fathers of Omambara that nobody would ever dance to the beats of Ikoro. For Ikoro - a musical instrument like a slit drum that is beaten with a stick - announced forbiddens like: War, murder, desecration, and calamity. Anyone that disobeyed this law would be sentenced to death by burning him alive. And the judge to sentence the offenders would be the priest of Ani: Okolobia-Agu.

But Okolobia-Agu's nephew, Ikeanyi, believing that his uncle was the high priest, took the Ikoro; and every night, he sat with his friends at the market square and beat the gloomy instrument. They knew the law, so none of them danced to the beats. But this troubled Okolobia-Agu and he called his brother's son.

'You should stop that music of calamity,' he soberly said. 'I don't want to hear the sounds again.'

Ikeanyi, being a strong head, replied: 'Okolobia, I failed no law. I beat the Ikoro in the company of my friends but none of us dances to the beats.'

'You failed to add "yet",' Okolobia-Agu told him. 'You should rephrase and say, 'We beat the Ikoro but none of us dances to the beats yet.'

Ikeanyi responded harshly, 'The great priest, we are not foolish. None of us would ever dance to the Ikoro.'

His uncle bowed his head and muttered to his hearing: 'Is it not better to remove from the pot, the hands of the monkey or should we wait until it turns to the hand of a man?'

But the boy's heart was unruly, he did not stop. This infuriated the priest and he ordered the young men of the town to seize his brother's son and had him flogged in the market square.

That night, Ikeanyi's father, Egbuna, went to his elder brother and spoke angrily to him, asking: 'What has my son done to deserve this public disgrace? Why do you wish to bring shame to my household?'

Okolobia smiled and softly said to his brother, 'Ikeanyi is also my son but It is easier to extinguish the matchstick than to stop an inferno. I rather flog Ikenayi than to sentence him to death.'

'But he was not dancing to the Ikoro,' the younger brother burst out. 'And I know my son, he would never bring shame to our family.'

Okorobia gnashed his teeth for a while and switched to a little story:
'There was a town,' the old man narrated, 'that forbids a Python. One day, in the bush, a boy found a Python's egg and took it home. He became so fond of this newly found egg. He knew that a Python's egg would never hatch if it left the nest. But none of us dictates to nature, there are things that happen that should not.'

Okolobia -Agu raised his head and looked at his brother.
'Tell me, Egbuna,' he continued, 'If you are the boy's father and you found the egg in your son's room; which is easier: To leave the egg because your son is fond of it and it would never hatch, or to break your son's heart by destroying the egg before it beats all speculations and hatches into a Python?'

This is Ajambele.
PoliticsNext Governor Of Anambra State - Dr Tony Nwoye by netozii(op): 9:46am On Sep 06, 2017
What do you think? Can APC win Anambra State?
PoliticsMeet The Apc Gubernatorial Candidate Of Anambra State - Dr Tony Nwoye by netozii(op): 8:13am On Sep 06, 2017
Have you ever heard the saying: 'We Are All Leaders'? It is true but there are few that have the gracious quality to lead other leaders. Men of various birth, whose backgrounds may not provide any leverage to place them above their peers; but it remains an indisputable fact that from the day a man leaves the womb, his destiny follows him. And if death spares a chicken that hatched into a male, it will one day become a cock.

Tony Nwoye is that chick. Known by his friends and foes for his fearlessness and humility; he lived his whole life with an unquenchable hunger to serve and protect the people, and this inherent quality was not only a blessing to him, but it attracted the unavoidable foes.

As a young leader, highly placed people that could not understand how a man of low birth could climb so fast and seem unstoppable started backbiting, but envy is not enough to wipe out a man's calling.

Tony Nwoye became nationally relevant when he took up the mantle of leadership and led the whole Association of Nigerian student (NANS). He was the only Igbo man - since 1983 till date - to preside over the National student's body; and in Tony Nwoye, student activism was awakened.

Serving NANS in the days of President Olusegun Obasanjo, he checked the excesses of the Federal Government and risked his future by challenging the unfavorable national issues concerning the Nigerian students. Then, he was in his twenties: a young man, barely.

After NANS, Tony did not slow down. His lamp of service was never out of oil nor his flame extinguished. He became active in the National politics, and in his early thirties, he became the State Chairman of the then ruling party - PDP.

This was an intimidating position that tormented the political scavengers that expected only themselves and their generations to dictate for the state. That was the beginning of the plot to tarnish a young man's résumé. These conmen, knowing that the easiest way to annihilate a man is through his reputation, stopped at nothing but to decimate him.

Tony's character was attacked, battered; negative opinions, created. He was linked to unthinkable atrocities; but who can kill a child if his creator fails to sanction? Those image attackers were men, not God.

Tony would not succumb to their cheap blackmail. Rather, he responded by breaking more records. From the root of the grass, he ascended to the pinnacle and ran for the apex position in the state. Then, he was the youngest yet came second in the election.

After the gubernatorial election, his community wanted him to represent them in the National Assembly, and yet again, his adversaries swore with their lives that he would not smell that seat.

Man is not God, and whatever God decides, no man can oppose. Tony's destiny, which was never theirs to decide, prevailed. He is presently a member of the National House Of Representative.

Tony is a man of destiny. A lot can be said about him, but even his enemies admire his 'steel cast' courage.

If there is a man that would give a loud voice to the Igbos, someone we can give the forefront to fight for our right, Tony is such a man.

Tony is a living evidence that a man is not a prisoner of his birth; anybody in this life, no matter the low state of his upbringing, can become anything he desires. All you need is to Trust in God and Believe In Yourself.

Later in this life, when history will tell the story of this gladiator, history would say that Tony is a child of destiny that lived with a singular principle:

'Nothing Is Impossible.'

Ozii Baba Anieto
PoliticsRe: ''You Are A Favorite Of The Press'' - Buhari Jokes With Okowa (Photo) by netozii(m): 8:25pm On Aug 25, 2017
When Baba praises you, your whole teeth go commot...
No see teeth. God of teeth: Okowa

Politics'resume Or Resign' Fable by netozii(op): 8:53am On Aug 17, 2017
In the olden days, the animals had a meeting to plan on how to move their Kingdom forward. For it was not proper for only a single creature to manage the affairs of the animals, it was agreed that two animals should be appointed: one a carnivore and another, a herbivore. After due consultations, the Lion, who was the strongest of all beasts, was mandated to rule and protect other animals and the Donkey, for his amiable qualities, was also charged to assist him. When the Lion took over the mantle, he made himself a Monarch surrounded himself with the cow, the horse, and the leopard, who were his praise singers and sycophants. It became an unspoken law that no animal would speak ill of the Lion.

One day, the King went on a journey to a distant land and asked the Donkey to watch over his throne. The animals found nothing wrong in his leave until days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. The animals started murmuring but none was bold enough to speak out.

But in the wild was a he-goat whose name was Mkpi, who lived his life fearing neither carnivores nor living by the dictates of cowards. When it was obvious that no animal wanted to be an enemy of Lion's supporters, Mkpi took the bull by the horns.

'We appointed two people,' he said. 'And for months, we have not seen the Lion. Is it not wise that another animal should be appointed to replace the Lion.'

In fear, other animals shouted him down: 'The Lion, our great master, has given the throne to the Donkey. Your words are vain and you bleat for nothing.'

But Mkpi would not stop talking: 'For months now, we have not seen the Lion. Are there no other carnivore that would take his place. All I want to say is that the Lion should resume or resign.'

This infuriated the Leopard and he rallied other animals and seized the He-goat. They beat him and Leopard passed a judgment on him:
'We are going to throw you into the sewage so that you will smell like shit forever.'

As they dragged Mkpi to the sewage, the Sheep, who was a known coward, said to him: 'See what you have brought upon yourself. For the sake of your life, you wouldn't have spoken out.'

The he-goat turned and asked him: 'How do you live every day when things are falling apart? How do you wake up in the morning and wish not to be true to yourself?'

'But I am not the one being disgraced here,' the sheep replied. 'See as they drag you like a criminal. And forever in this life, you will smell of excrement. Can't you see that your path would bring you to no good?'

But Mkpi bleated as he was dragged to the sewage saying: 'That a man is punished for a course doesn't make the course ignoble.'

This is Ajambele. Join me on twitter: @ozii_baba let's deliberate on 'ResumeOrResign'
Politics'resume Or Resign' Fable by netozii(op): 8:24am On Aug 17, 2017
In the olden days, the animals had a meeting to plan on how to move their Kingdom forward. For it was not proper for only a single creature to manage the affairs of the animals, it was agreed that two animals should be appointed: one a carnivore and another, a herbivore. After due consultations, the Lion, who was the strongest of all beasts, was mandated to rule and protect other animals and the Donkey, for his amiable qualities, was also charged to assist him. When the Lion took over the mantle, he made himself a Monarch surrounded himself with the cow, the horse, and the leopard, who were his praise singers and sycophants. It became an unspoken law that no animal would speak ill of the Lion.

One day, the King went on a journey to a distant land and asked the Donkey to watch over his throne. The animals found nothing wrong in his leave until days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. The animals started murmuring but none was bold enough to speak out.

But in the wild was a he-goat whose name was Mkpi, who lived his life fearing neither carnivores nor living by the dictates of cowards. When it was obvious that no animal wanted to be an enemy of Lion's supporters, Mkpi took the bull by the horns.

'We appointed two people,' he said. 'And for months, we have not seen the Lion. Is it not wise that another animal should be appointed to replace the Lion.'

In fear, other animals shouted him down: 'The Lion, our great master, has given the throne to the Donkey. Your words are vain and you bleat for nothing.'

But Mkpi would not stop talking: 'For months now, we have not seen the Lion. Are there no other carnivore that would take his place. All I want to say is that the Lion should resume or resign.'

This infuriated the Leopard and he rallied other animals and seized the He-goat. They beat him and Leopard passed a judgment on him:
'We are going to throw you into the sewage so that you will smell like shit forever.'

As they dragged Mkpi to the sewage, the Sheep, who was a known coward, said to him: 'See what you have brought upon yourself. For the sake of your life, you wouldn't have spoken out.'

The he-goat turned and asked him: 'How do you live every day when things are falling apart? How do you wake up in the morning and wish not to be true to yourself?'

'But I am not the one being disgraced here,' the sheep replied. 'See as they drag you like a criminal. And forever in this life, you will smell of excrement. Can't you see that your path would bring you to no good?'

But Mkpi bleated as he was dragged to the sewage saying: 'That a man is punished for a course doesn't make the course ignoble.'

This is Ajambele. Join me on twitter: @ozii_baba let's deliberate on 'ResumeOrResign'
PoliticsUnderstanding Charly Boy's #ourmumudondo by netozii(op): 8:46pm On Aug 15, 2017
Unless We Place The Need Of The Society Before Our Own Interest, Both We And The Society Will Perish In Our Suicidal Short-Sightedness.

The biggest challenge before a Nigerian youth is that he doesn't see Nigeria as his own. To him, the ownership of this country can be defined with the term 'Turn by Turn'. His whole understanding tells him that until he mounts the mantle, he is not a stakeholder in this entity called Nigeria. Pity. We are totally disconnected from the heart of the only nation we can call our own. This perception is broadly known as MUMU.

Let me break it down: Mumu is when you see the relatives of your Governor graduating from foreign Universities and the University in your state is on strike. Instead of being angry, you envy them.

Mumu is when you have no trust in the state's healthcare because you know that Government hospitals are ill equipped, and in your solitude wishes you could afford a trip outside Nigeria - medical tourism. Who do you blame? your stars - for not bringing fortune - or the government that denies you an average health care?

How many souls have we lost on the death traps we call roads? How many people die while seeking jobs? Who do we blame? Our destiny or our rulers?

I will like us to see what is happening in Nigeria from another angle:
Assuming you have a company and you employed a manager this January; if that manager takes permission and stays for 50days (Almost 2 months) in a hospital, then comes back. After some weeks he returns to the hospital and for over a hundred days (3 months), you are yet to see him, tell yourselves the truth, 'What will be your next action?'

Sentiments apart, I will tell that manager that my company is suffering. If he cannot resume, he should just quit and take care of his health. His health is greater and more worthwhile than the company. why neglect the gift of good health? I will take my company back.

Our Mumu Don Do is a clarion call. Let's take our company: Nigeria back. Most people that want the President to remotely rule this country cannot defend their decision rationally. Charly Boy is better off than 99% of us. He is not fighting for his household. He is fighting for me and you. What happened today in Wuse Market calls for sober reflection and sympathy towards Charly Boy. He was nearly lynched. His car totaled. He is human, he knew his life is on the line. But he wants us to wake up and say Our Mumu Don Do. Think about this piece.

To President Buhari I say: 'Get Well Soon,' but the noble options before you are '#ResumeOrResign.'

God bless Nigerian Youths. God bless you.

Literature/Writing AdsWanted Urgently: A Graphics Illustrator And An Editor by netozii(op): 12:05pm On Jul 25, 2017
If you can create graphics electronically and can deliver in time, please comment your contact details below. I will reach you.

An editor is needed also for a less than 10,000 words publication.

Budget is low. Thanks.

Below is a Sample of expected illustrations
1 Like

PoliticsHow Do I Delete A Post by netozii(op):
I still do not know how to delete a post on Nairaland. Somebody, please help me
CrimeRe: Two Men Fight, Complain To Police Over Refusal To Pay After Anal Sex by netozii(m): 5:46pm On Jun 14, 2017
I thought I have seen it all
HealthRe: The Late Chisom Anekwe: Another Perspective by netozii(m): 10:48am On May 18, 2017
There is always another side of a coin. Social justice is always with no investigation. I pray for justice. Real justice not Facebook justice
PoliticsBuhari – The Curse Of An Answered Prayer. by netozii(op): 7:48am On May 01, 2017
Who the gods want to dent, they answer his prayers.

I still remember my role in 2015 Presidential Social Media campaign. The truth was that my support for Goodluck was emotional: I saw the APC – PDP political tussle as marginalisation of the weak. I saw Buhari as a ‘muscle’ man, a disciplinarian, oga kpatakpata and incorruptible general with the backing of the amalgamation of the North and West, but still saw Goodluck as that guy with no shoes, who, by the special grace of the almighty, ascended the throne. I even pardoned Mr. Goodluck’s shortcomings, I saw them as a sabotage from his political enemy, for that reason, I stood by him.

Buhari, before 2015, was a special breed. We believed he had what it takes to fight corruption. Like most Nigerians, I thought Babangida would be the first to rent a space in Kuje prison. The sin of his past-coup and corruption would come knocking on his door; not only Babangida but all the past looters of the public funds. Buhari had the Messianic image until his only prayer – to become to president – was answered.

The failure of Mr. President to live up to the expectation has deepened my fear that Nigeria will not recover anytime soon; it’s a sign that there are no more good men in our midst that could move this country forward. For if this scrupulous old soldier could not change our fate, who then will? But Buhari will bear the highest casualty if he resigns now because none of us will remember him as a disciplinarian or the ‘no-nonsense’ gladiator; what we will remember was the suffering his government brought, the Amechis, the untouchable Babashir 'grass cutters' Lawal, and a million corruption cases he could not solve.

Buhari has become the actor who did not leave the stage at the loudest ovation; a man who fought so hard to demystify his own larger-than-life image; King Hezekiah of our time.

Had the gods done him a favor and rejected his supplications, he would have died a sad man but we would have still believed that he was the only flawless man that would have change Nigeria.

But unluckily for all of us, his prayer was answered.

Facebook Post by Ozii Baba Anieto
LiteratureRe: Why You Cant Survive In Abuja by netozii(op): 7:46pm On Apr 27, 2017
Why You Can’t Survive In Abuja – Episode 3

The mystery men.

Incredible as it may sound, Abuja is not owned by the Billionaires. The Dangotes, the Arthur Ezes, The Adenugas own not Abuja but Nigeria, To them, Abuja is like a room in one of their mansions.

Again, you are wrong... Abuja does not belong to the Politicians. The politicians are like soldiers – they come and they go, but the barrack- Abuja - remains.
Men who have Abuja's remote control are those mystery guys that can make impossibilities, possible.

They are relatives of the billionaires, the Loyalists to top politicians, the Nephews to ministers, the Sons of State Governors and some aliens that appears from nowhere – mainly from overseas. The stories of the above stated guys are like fairy tales, but you shouldn't doubt whatever you are told about them.

The street of FCT knows about the story of a young, spoilt brat; not more than thirty two years, who sent one of his boys to South Africa.
Mission: To ‘import’ a female presenter he saw on Channel ‘O’
His message for the presenter was simple - “Name your price”

The mission failed, but Jeez! that’s how adventurous these guys could be and over a bottle of Champagne, they could bet on who will ‘bed’ actress A or actress B in 2 weeks.
Of all their sins, vanity is the favorite..

I witnessed one of these fairy tales first-hand in Asokoro. When I entered inside Mr. X’s sitting room,there was a dark lady, with the most provoking breast I have ever seen, sitting in his big couch. Just at a glance, you would confirm that all male ‘may be equal’ but not all females.

Even in her wild countenance, it was not hard to see her class.
The Ill mannered girl totally ignored my greetings, but I was aware of the commandment of ‘Thou shall not familiarize with your ogas’ girls – his daughters, his wife and most especially, his concubines'.
So I took no offence.

“Oga” one of the boys peeped in from his magnificent door “The young man is here”

“Let him in,” Mr. X commanded

A well dressed skinny, apologetic looking guy came in and without pleasantries, he started a long explanation.

“Sir, na hold up delay me,” he remorsefully said

“That one na excuse but let me tell you, I won’t pay you the N100,000 if you continue like this”

“It won’t happen again sir”

“I hope so,” Mr X pointed to the lady “This is Mia, tell her to feel at home”

The young man translated in a foreign language and the ‘Mia-girl’ said “Merci” and the young man turned to Mr. X and said “Thank you”

Later I learnt that Mr. X flew Mia all the way from Cote d’Ivoire to Abuja, on recommendation from another mystery man of Abuja, and the only challenge is communication barrier: Mr. X speaks only English and Mia speaks only French, hence a translator (the skinny guy) was employed.

Moreover, for Mr X to clear the way for his imported courtesan, he sent his wife and 2 children to United States… that’s a price, a price he could afford for his vanity to be massaged. After all, in the list of the challenges of a rich man, money is wanting. So whatever money can buy will not be on the list too. It is a list filled with Vain things: Latest car to drive, vacations to go, the trending girl whose mine they would dig.
I repeat again, Vanity is their favorite sin.

To identify them in the public is not too easy, they come to occasions and clubs in a pack: they and their boys. Looks can be deceptive… don’t let the superficial to confuse you; that neatly dressed dude may be his driver and that one with toned biceps was deported from UK - he no get kobo. The real oga may possibl be the youngest and the simplest in appearance of them all, but he calls the shots… just check out the tips below and you will catch the mystery man ….

(Follow series on facebook timeline of Ozii Baba Anieto)
LiteratureRe: Why You Cant Survive In Abuja by netozii(op): 7:44pm On Apr 27, 2017
Why You Can’t Survive In Abuja - Episode 2

How can one describe a mirror to a blind? Will he ever understand what 'an image' is? So it is with you. How can I let you know that if you do not live in ABJ (maybe you visit whenever), you do not know ANYTHING about that town, and You have no right to say if FCT is fine or not? Every visitor's knowledge of the rocky town is just a mirror reflection of the human conduit that hosted you.

Take for instance, if your host stays in Aso Drive, Maitama, Asokoro and places like that, sure in the evenings you will see some white guys jugging or taking walks with their exotic dogs; possibly your first time of seeing a boulevard – no Okada in the street, there are pedestrian lane in the highways and your next door neighbor is the Minister of Power and Steel..(hehehe) – Wow, to you Abuja is like Paradise. You would confess, like I did in my first visit, that Obodo Oyibo cannot be finer than Abuja.

Cool down, Pal, that’s not Abuja. What you saw was related to your host’s lifestyle. There still exist the Villa called Aso (a Villa everybody respects), where the real crème de la crème lives and there are a million Slums where they hustlers sleep.

Just know that your host falls into 1 of these 3 categories..most probably, the first 2:

Category 1 - those born in Abuja ; the luckiest of the 3.

Category 2 - those blown into this town by the goddess of fortune… fast dudes and babes that RUN the town

And (people in) Cathegory 3 are those still wondering if Abuja is a name of a person, place or thing. They are the spectators that tell the story of the town.

************************************
Category 1 – Those born in Abuja

To them, Abuja is home, just like the fish lives in the water so do they. They never struggle to survive and hardly talk about the high cost of living in Abuja. They understand their original tribal language – yea, they understand but cannot speak… except the yorubas (their mama no wan hear English for their mouth).

They know the name of their states of origin but hardly visit. This group tells you story about the ‘malus’ - the ajibo Hausas and the beautiful, neat and rich Fulanis. Nevertheless, the natural course of scaling is also applied to them – there are the super rich, the mid class and the poor among them. But schooling, most of the time, bridge the classes.

Magically, people in this group pick and drop jobs anyhow in Abuja – they are the offspring of Abuja and serve as the curator of the town. They know when Beger was a market and when Gwarinpa was a forest. They are detribalized. In hard times, they don't run away from the town. Abuja is to them a nest.

Category 2.

Nigeria has no vanity like old men in this category and the young men in this category are the headache of the continent.

When a fine girl enthusiastically say “That guy na Abuja boy”, then you are about to see a member of this category; a woe to our country… mostly smart looking, single and stinkingly rich yet UNEMPLOYED. The married among them still multi-task socially (if you understand what I mean). They are the real owners of Abuja and by their cars and their way of life you shall know them….

A full book should be written on people in this category, so let’s take a break and continue tomorrow.
LiteratureWhy You Cant Survive In Abuja by netozii(op): 7:42pm On Apr 27, 2017
Sugar Mummies, Alhajis and Connections in Abuja

His fingernails were well manicured, his hair low, and beards tidy too. In his mid-30s he decided to relocate to Abuja without a plan or a war-chest to battle the initial challenges. His statement made it clear:

“Ozii, I came with 3 suits, I bought them new from Aba.” His face was filled with confidence. “If I put them on, I will make some connection in this town. I will become made. I tell you.”

‘Amen,’ I responded, and ask God to forgive his ignorance for he did not know the town he entered. He was yet to realize that there are no loose connections waiting for anybody to hook to in this fairy tale territory.

In the past I would not have advised him right, I would have encouraged his guts but I have lived in this town long enough and have heard a lot of bullshits conceived by some dreamers before moving into Abuja.

I have seen girls whose only asset was beauty and believed they would meet an Alhaji, and some guys were warned from home to be careful of Abuja Sugar Mummies… laughable...there are sugar mummies though, but abeg, the hype too much.

It is of no doubt that good looks will take one far, but the unanswered question is “How far would it take you?”… Some are lucky though, but its but a gamble.

I told my friend that it is never a good sight to see a man in suit standing under the scourging sun of Abuja waiting for El rufai bus and if he can’t afford a N2000 plate of food in Jevinik on daily basis that the suit would be an albatross – preventing him from entering bukas where he could buy a N400 food.

My best advice was that he should wash his jeans and polos and wear them for now, a time will come when he would have to wear suits.

As for the ‘Connections In Abuja’, I told him that I am yet to find one after staying in this town for 7years. In fact, I busted his bubbles by telling him to think of what to do or he may borrow to travel back to East.
Pessimist, he called me and kept his dream alive.

Like Herod, I told him to seek for 'The Connection' and if he finds, I will appreciate if he would show me the way.

Most tales we hear about Abj are bloated. There are only 3 categories of people that survive in Abuja. 3 only!

Facebook Series by Ozii Baba Anieto
Jokes EtcAdvice To ATM Fraudsters by netozii(op): 7:25am On Apr 25, 2017
All scammers should read this

EducationObsolete Education In Nigeria: The Need For Sportsmanship by netozii(op):
I saw the post where people compared the prizes in Big Brother Nigeria, Maltina Dance Hall e.t.c to Spelling Bee, Best Student In WAEC and other Educational competition. They made ‘the post’ sound so horrible that one might conclude that the end time is near. Funny. In my understanding, things are not changing, it was so even in the time immemorial: Michael Jackson started entertaining the world at a tender age and America made him extremely rich not because he discovered that atom is the smallest element in a cell. Nat King Cole and Ray dined with American presidents because of their status as entertainers. In the 80s and early 90s, the exercise book ‘Olympic’ used in the whole Nigeria had the picture of Chukwuma Ifeajuna, an Onitsha man, who won the commonwealth gold even before the civil war.
The truth, the world wants to be entertained and until the school system integrates Entertainment into their scheme, the educational system will continue in its pipe dream illusion of being the key to success.

There are things I learnt when I was a boy in Dennis Memorial Grammar School, Onitsha, and I realized that we are blind to the most important lesson of Education. We missed the real knowledge the school should champion.

If you were not in DMGS, you would think that ‘Reading’ was all the students did. Its true we had the The Ugwuowos, The Ofoches, The Maludums, Agbasimelos etc… but that was not all we had in the school where every student wore ‘short knickers’.

Sir Victor Obidike was the Principal then, and even as a disciplinarian, he knew that Education was not just reading and writing; Education, to him, was far deeper than that. The school was so organized that we had Aecstatic Prefect, whose work was to make sure the school, most especially the flowers, was always beautiful. We had the best school choir in the whole of the East if not Nigeria as a whole, a big piano, and it never lacked pianists.

Before I came into DMGS, my elder brother, Chigozie, now the Principal of the school, was in the school choir, and by association, I joined him. There, I heard about one Abednego Okafor, the school pianist, who left the school a year before, but I met Alvan Nwamara (Ikoku), and also saw when the music room was handed over to Opanka – Ilokanuno.

Later my brother, even as an S.S 1 student, without being a pianist, became the student head of the music room under Mrs Orji, Mrs Ikpeze, Mrs Obiozor etc. Chigozie was the last Music prefect I met in DMGS before I switched to St Charles Special Science School. But still in the Choir were the phenomenal Emeka Egbonu, the genus Elochukwu Oku, Strong vocalist Enwezor, Kene Orji, Moses okafor and many others.

The choristers were not the best in academics but Sir Victor Obidike never played with that department. We were treated like the celebrities: we did not participate in manual labor; we accompany the old boys and the staff to functions: most especially, the burial of members (the first three times I traveled outside Anambra State in my life was because I was a DMGS chorister). And when I was just 14, the Association of Nigerian Principals had their meeting in Anambra state and invited the DMGS glorious choir. There, I was paid my first ever salary which was paid on daily basis (there was a monetary package given to the choir).

Fast forward 20 years later. I relocated to Abuja.
I discovered that there is NO church I went to in that town without finding a former student of DMGS in its choir: either as a pianist, a choirmaster or respected chorister.

Abednego, the school pianist which I did not meet, was in Abuja as the pianist in Aso Rock Villa Chapel. A choirmaster and an authority in the Abuja choral world.

Alvan Nwamara is now a PhD in music: a celebrity still. You are not a chorister in the East if you don’t know Dr. Alvan.

Before my brother became a priest, he was celebrated in All Saints because of his voice, and my youngest, who was also a product of the system, live, till this day., on music

What are my points? Reading and Writing, which we termed
Education was just a faculty in the University of Real Education. The world has always been more interested in sportsmanship: Entertainment - sports, music, stage acting etc. Even then in DMGS, we celebrated the Agile Zuby Uzoegwu, Muche Muche Amuta (who was a tin god of line and tracks), the Enyi Mouba, Lapote of tug of war, the cultural group dancers of Mazi Ikedinma and one junior boy named Monika.

Don’t get me wrong; the traditional ‘Reading and Writing’ is good but if your knowledge cannot put a food on your table, what a shame? Till this day, all the young boys that were dedicated in DMGS choir that I see now in Abuja still earn a residual income from singing, and DMGS was not a special school for music but there was a man who knew that education does not end in the classroom. A man who understood that ‘Pruned Talent’ also is also Knowledge.

Even Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook was more interested in how you feel (the fake importance Facebook brings) than asking you to find the algebraic ‘x’.

Take Tony Elumelu Entrepreneurship ProgrammeProject (TEEP) for example, Tony would share a million or two to young entrepreneurs but in the final day of the TEEP, he would pay tens of millions to P-Square for them to jump on the stage for three minutes making them the highest recipient.

How many professors did Aligo Dangote, the richest black man, visit in their houses? but we saw him in Peter Okoye's house in a picture that went viral.

Do you think Mike Adenuga does not know that ‘Kid mathematician’ and the future astronauts? but when he wants people to promote his business, he would look for the Wizkids to be Glo Ambassadors.

Olamide chills with governors, and girls are no longer ashamed to be Flavor’s baby mamas.
Would you have preferred Okocha and Kanu if they were respectively a doctor and a lawyer?

Entertainment (sportsmanship) was/is everything.

Present Educational system, which is completely out of date, needs a management that understands the flow of the tides. If what Sir V.U Obidike did in DMGS can be replicated in Anambra state, where a student that cannot solve the simultaneous equation but can play guitar would feel so important based on his skills, then the whole country will not stand in front of us in ten years’ time. This is the new Education. Justin Biber is no longer interested in the head, chest, and abdomen of a grasshopper. Even the developed Europe have football schools.

There will always be the Professors: some people are born academicians, but the new school should find the best in each student and encourage it. If well managed, it will prove more productive.

‘Reading and Writing’ may be the key to success, but well-harnessed Talent is success

Ozii Baba Anieto
www.oziibaba.com
LiteratureRe: Third Side Of A Coin By Ozii Baba Anieto Episode 2 by netozii(op): 10:13pm On Dec 06, 2016
thanks. It is my first time sharing a story... thanks pal
LiteratureThird Side Of A Coin By Ozii Baba Anieto Episode 3 by netozii(op):
Lust For Breakfast

“About yesterday,” that was the first thing Flora said. The voice I heard could only be celestial. It sounded like a Heavenly soprano. It was a voice even the monks could not possibly resist. I became fully awake. For all the years I had known her, I never knew she had violin strings in her voice. Because my pupils dilated, I confirmed I was not dreaming. How it happened, I did not know but there was something in that voice that touched the storehouse of my adrenaline and my heartbeat became faster.
I took a second stare at her. Magical. The room temperature inflated; mine was not spared. But except for the brief on my waist, I had no clothes on and the air-conditioner was at 18 degrees.
Suddenly, she stopped talking.

Why would she be so wicked? What made her stop? It would have been better if she did not talk at all than to give me a sip of the wine, re-cork the bottle of wine and keep it directly in front of me.
She had to continue, I said to myself. Even if the gods had cursed her with the spirit of dumbness, I would cast out the demon.

“What about yesterday?” I queried.

The words from my mouth did not come out well. The more I wanted to add a command to it, the more it choked me. Flora continued. The words from her mouth sounded like the song of a tired robin. It was as if a complete orchestra were playing a master classical piece. But with every word she said, the room temperature increased. As I focused my gaze on her face, the sound became mute. She was still talking, but I heard nothing. Figuratively, I became deaf. I saw her lips – two black curves of luscious flesh – moving. They moved as if they were cymbals jamming together to produce song not meant for the human ears. That was the only thing that made sense to me because I heard no words.

Her face looked so different. Whoever took his time to cut out her facial features spent a whole lot of time on it. All the pieces were well positioned and proportional: the eyes – Bold and bright –positioned neither too far from her hair nor too close to her nose. Her eyelashes though bushy, created a hedge around those pretty eyes, both; symmetrical. Her nose was weighed before being attached to her face. A little more or a little less would have done a great damage. But it was perfectly sculptured like the ideal artwork from the ancestors of the sculptors from Igbo-Ukwu kingdom. I noticed she was still talking and tried to listen, yet I heard nothing. I tried to admire her beauty, but the timing was not right. Inversely, my brain couldn’t withstand parallel processing of the higher center. I couldn’t focus on any particular concept.

I lost concentration and in an attempt to disobey the rules that direct attention, I became an irreversibly divided personality.

Then again, she stopped.

Maybe she said something I had to respond to. Maybe her last words were weighty. I heard nothing and felt sorry for not following. How could I tell her that the only audience she had, for over twenty minutes, were the satisfied mosquitoes that had fed fat on my blood while I was enslaved by her magic? But she was looking at me expectantly, waiting for a response.

I tried one trick one could trust to work anytime. An ancient trick used by the elders in the village.

“Flora,” I swallowed saliva to allow the word come out from my belly, “All you are telling me is cock and bull.” I squeezed my face and prayed she would not ask me to repeat what she said. It worked.

“There is no other way to explain.” She went on. “Obie, I feel so, so dirty.”

She turned and stared directly into my eyeballs, I shivered and wondered if she could see what was on my mind. I was lucky, she had not looked into my heart only a few minutes before, she would have seen herself unclad therein. Yet, I was not comfortable, because she was still there, temptingly undressed in my mind’s eye. She was breathing on me and her hair was in my mouth. Dirty thoughts. My blood became hot.

Withdrawing my eyes to save myself from the guilt, I, mistakenly, placed them on the loose polo shirt; my undoing. Trapped inside were the twin balls; her breasts. Heavy and full, swinging with every slight move she made. They were sculpted in a fashion that would make them impossible to fall. Like a canoe, parabolic. And to excite my libido, two crown-like tits were placed on top of the pair. The shirt she was wearing was not my best shirt, but it hugged those bumps in a way that made me jealous. As funny as it might sound, I became jealous of my shirt.

I wished I could wrap her just like the shirt, or better still rip off the shirt from her body. She would look better without it. Garden of Eden was created for her likes. She was qualified to be unclad and unashamed.

I stretched my hands toward her. A gesture that was welcomed. I enveloped her and shared in the shirt’s blessing. Nevertheless, the shirt got the lion share. It prevented my bare chest from touching her bare boobs. But half bread, they said, was still manageable.
I sent my gaze southward to the boxers. Another slip and there was it. If I was in danger of losing control before, the sight in the boundary of the shirt and the boxers made me crazy. I would have allowed only my imagination to run wild on nothing, but I roped in my eyes. I saw it resting like a catapult before the boxers; right on her waist. It was her thongs which I knew wouldn’t take me a second to pull off.

As if she could read my mind, she leaned her head on my shoulder. Her hands went straight to my back and we amalgamated. I; the North, she; the South. We clung to ourselves as if our lives depended on how tight the hug would be. The braless lumps on her chest rested on me. It was so warm and so soft.

A great thing started happening to the little thing of mine. I felt the warmness of my bulge. I felt so randy and tickly down below. Softly, I pushed her face to an angle and planted a kiss on her dark lovely lips. A welcomed action. She responded. Then she pulled away and moved towards the bedroom. She couldn’t wait. Like a goat follows the man that drags the palm frond, I followed her closely.

She speedily pulled off the shirt and boxers. As I gasped for breath, my heartbeat stopped. My imagination was wrong, her attributes were more. The polo hid a lot from me. Then she stretched her hand and picked her gown. Maybe, to put it on the couch. She shouldn’t have bothered, I wanted to say. The game had no rules. She should leave the cloth on the bed, I did not mind. I watched as she speedily – without putting her bra on – dragged her body inside the gown and turned to me as if she were possessed and said “I have to go now.”

www.oziibaba.com
1 Like
LiteratureThird Side Of A Coin By Ozii Baba Anieto Episode 2 by netozii(op): 7:00am On Dec 03, 2016
(Episode 1 published yesterday)

We All Are Prostitutes

The night was dark and rather gloomy. Too quiet, save for the classical music from the nocturnal birds. Somewhere inside the darkness, Flora waited patiently. With an excuse, and definitely with an explanation.

As I drove into Wuse 2, calm deserted the night. Cars were honking and standing in pairs, were the queens of the night. The hookers. Flagging down cars, as if they needed free rides. Time was no longer their friend. Any that couldn’t hook up with a client soon, would retire to her abode, counting her losses and praying for a better tomorrow.

A black Range Rover stopped. The girls near the car moved seductively towards the car, sampling their wares with seductive poses, fake smiles. The real deals on the side. A market whose real drivers are difficult to identify, I wondered who would take the glory for organizing such a Trade Fair: the men, who stopped to buy, or the girls, for being available for purchase. But it was a known fact that the only reason men drove into the crescent at odd hours was because that was where all the bad girls could be seen. And probably because sex in Wuse 2, was negotiable.

I wasn’t tempted in any way to stop. I passed Amigo Supermarket and drove straight to the Wine Shop. At the entrance were scores of young, neatly dressed women. They stood as if they were waiting for someone, or as if they were stranded. Like sheep with no shepherd, they moved in uncoordinated cycle. As I slowed down, they gradually approached my vehicle.

“Hi,” one of the girls said in a fake British accent.

I ignored the greeting but took out time to check out her features – fair skin, big bosom and cat eyes. She sensed I had no wish to price her wares but noticed that I had taken advantage with my eyes. She turned around and walked away. Her big buttocks bounced with each step she took.

“Na wah o,” I muttered in excitement as I navigated to a free parking space inside the compound.

I parked my car carefully, made sure the doors were locked and moved slowly into the crowd. A herd of girls. Selling their bodies. A fair market. Watching was free so one could window shop. I wasn’t buying so I looked. I checked every lady around the area, Flora was not there.

I dialed her number and she picked like one in a hurry. I gave her no chance to say ‘Hello’.

“I am standing at the gate,” I grumbled.

“Please, come to the back of the building” her voice was teary

“Behind the building? Flora, I ….”

“Obie, Just come, please” she begged.

The back of the building was poorly illuminated, but the girls meant business. Some were smoking and some were negotiating with their male clients. And with the aid of the twilight, I snapped glances into shadows. I noticed one who stood alone. If she was not Flora, then she was made in the image and likeness of Flora. I moved towards her and the doubt was cleared.

Saint Flora. My movement towards her lost speed and I faltered. I wondered why on earth her breed would stand in the counsel of the ungodly. Flora. I suspected that heaven was asleep. There was no better explanation. Nothing would have permitted an angel to dwell in hades. Heaven would have come to her rescue, she was a fallen angel, but this time, with broken wings.
She wore a short white gown, a sign that her crime was premeditated. Even from a distance, she looked wild, looked nothing like the Flora I used to know, more like a club girl who had not learnt her trade or a model who couldn’t fit into the fashion world. Whatever the case was, sex oozed from her. She was as full of sex as a palm nut is full of oil, but still fresh like palm nut bursting with oil yet to be extracted.
She saw me but didn’t move, she stood there and sobbed, and sobbed.

“Come let’s go” I pulled her and headed towards the car.

She didn’t speak a word. She wept uncontrollably with convulsive gasps. I doubted if any explanation would make sense to me. In my judgment, the summary of what happened was a hustle gone south. An intro to the real reality.

Girls of her kind thought prostitution was an easy trade – one just needed to lie on her back, mix pleasure with business and in the end, get paid. They thought harlotry required no qualification or experience. False perception. Unknown to them, there was always a course, a full-time program required. One needed - first and foremost – to have multiple sexual partners, from there, graduate to ‘runs–babe’ operating a small-scale prostitution from home, which would help to beef up personal experience, then finally sign a deal with the devil over her conscience, before going out to stand in the middle of the night. She thought it was simple, but in reality, harlotry was not a mean challenge.
We drove in silence. And she made no attempt to explain what happened. A gesture I appreciated. She couldn’t pull herself together to narrate. Besides, she would have found it difficult to convince me.

I entered the house and directed her to the room. She moved in like a zombie and continued with her audible sobs. She could not talk to me, I allowed her to have the room alone. Around five in the morning, while I was deep in sleep, someone tapped me softly, I opened my eyes. Lo and behold, Flora was before me. Not in her short gown anymore, but in my boxers and loose polo and a questionable stare.

To Be Contd

Ozii Baba Anieto is a storyteller, a poet and a spoken word artist
LiteratureRe: Third Side Of A Coin By Ozii Baba Anieto by netozii(op): 12:37pm On Dec 02, 2016
Thanks man. Glad you like it.
LiteratureThird Side Of A Coin By Ozii Baba Anieto by netozii(op): 9:37am On Dec 02, 2016
The Sun City Of Abuja

I want to tell you a secret. Something yet unknown to man. Like how the spiders survive in palaces and how the worms find its way to the princess’ belly. Secrets of men who sought the unknown; who journeyed to find their dreams; sailed the seas with no compass; and crossed the deserts with no guide. Men who expected nothing from life, who knew that one’s success or failure in life’s journey was the decision of the gods.

Some believed that seekers would find. A fallacy; a theory, yet unproven. The only fact is that every accomplishment shows how lucky a person can be: a decision of the gods. For he that is favored by the gods amasses wealth and he, whom the gods do not cherish would stand and stare. But nothing is as pathetic as the man who his Chi – personal god – accepts his beggarly status. If such a man fights against all odds and climbs out of abject poverty, he would not last; his tale would not end well. And because he finds it difficult to appreciate that ‘all who seek must not find’, the wrath of the gods would consume him. Nevertheless, no one knows his destiny, be it fortune or love, till he seeks.

Take Flora for example. Cities like Abuja were not for good girls like her. But she cast her fears to the winds, paid over the odds and fought for her little dreams. She knew the terrain would be rough, but she did not appreciate how rough things could be. Without relenting, she gave her best. Even when the dice was loaded against her, she never backed down.

There were secrets she did not know. To her, Abuja was like the toss of a coin –

Head: she would find her dream and live happily.

Tail: she would not find her dream and would return to where they came from.

She never considered the possibility of the coin landing on its edge. A sign that they would neither find happiness nor find their way out of the town. It happened that when Flora’s destiny-coin was tossed, it neither showed the head nor the tail.

Abuja doesn’t spare. How else could I have traded on its secret? Abuja was a city where ladies hardly sustained that which they held in high esteem. Flighty and swift. A wrong choice for guiltless souls. Abuja was that blacksmith’s furnace which would test morals; that fire which would prove how fine steels were. It was an anvil upon which Flora’s personality would be struck.

“Flora, this town is very strange,” I subtly warned her. But she never understood.

A job was all she needed, she had said. Believing that once she found a good job, she would be fine.

But good jobs, most times, came with a price tag which could either be a signature on a letter or possibly, a body on a platter.

Flora put in her best, moved from place to place and hunted for an imaginary job. Good soul; but being an eager beaver did not guarantee her quail and manna. There were dues to be paid; Sacrifices to be offered. But Flora believed in her own strength.

Her heart, possibly, was made of diamonds. Unknown to her, not all diamonds last forever. When Flora’s diamond was tested, it cracked.

************************************************************

I first met Flora seven years ago at Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka. Then, she was tall, thin and looked a lot younger than her eighteen years of age. Like a beautiful girl would attract a willing young man, she did interest me. But she was too serious to accept my offer.

She said I was a nice guy and would just like to be a platonic friend.

“No Flora,” I told her, “I hate being good friends with my crushes,”

I wasn’t too naïve to not know where she was driving my passion to and I hated ‘friend zone’. I persuaded the much I could; she did not shift ground. That was seven years ago. So when I heard she had relocated to Abuja, I welcomed it as a second chance to re-confess my love.

Believing I might be lucky, I did the necessary and paid her a visit in Sun City Estate, Abuja. The estate was a fine neighborhood with beautiful landscaping built for the rich.

Waiting in front of a beautiful cream colored house; in a long peach gown and holding two mobile phones in her left hand, her face broke into a smile when she saw me.

“Welcome, Obie,” she said as I walked into the compound.

“This place is beautiful,” I complimented.

“Thank you.”

“And Flo,” I added, “you are looking more beautiful.”

She giggled.

The apartment, where Flora was squatting, provided shelter for her and her two friends and there was another inmate I met – a dwarf white dog whose only duty was to wag its tail. The details in the living room showed that the girls lived in abundance. I have met girls like that in the past. They lived everywhere in the city of Abuja. The real magicians, I’d call them, who could not afford a bottle of beer but drank only champagne.

Sitting on a brown couch was one of her friends. She was fair and appeared tall. She could be of Flora’s age. Her yellow bum-shorts could not completely cover her laps, and that created a distraction for my lustful eyes. A green singlet covered her tempting body and there was a snake tattoo on her neck.

Throughout my stay, her eyes were glued to the television and I found it difficult to understand how Flora, who I knew as an extrovert, ended up in their company.

“Flo, this is a wrong crew.” I couldn’t keep it to myself on my way out. “How do they afford this lifestyle?”

Flora gave me a weak response. I rested my case.

Because my protest would not give her shelter and I knew I could not separate her from her company, I said the much I could and let her be. Flora, I could tell, became an accident bound to happen. It was not hard to discern that soon the chicken would one day become a cock, and do what cocks did. It was only a matter of time.

A few days later, at after eleven o’clock in the night, the exact time I laid on my bed, a call came into my cell phone. I wanted to ignore the call but realizing it was from Flora, I picked up the phone.

“Please, can you come and pick me?” she said in a tense and weary voice. She sounded like one who had been assaulted.

“Flora, where are you?” I reluctantly asked.

“I am at the Wine Shop in Wuse 2, near Amigo.” she replied.

“Wine shop by this time? What on earth are you doing in Sodom and Gomorrah at this God-forsaken period?’

“Please, I will explain” She mumbled. “Just come and pick me from here.”

To Be Contd.

Ozii Baba is a Facebook storyteller, a published author and a spoken word artist. Join him on Facebook: Ozii Baba Anieto
Jokes EtcHillarious Letter To Friends In Diaspora by netozii(op): 12:21pm On Jan 24, 2016
CelebritiesRe: Popular Nigerian Author Accused Of Sexually Harassing Female Writers, Apologizes by netozii(m): 3:17pm On Jan 19, 2016
Sometimes, saying 'sorry' is simply an abuse of the power of forgiveness...
EducationI Still Do Not Believe That This School Is In Anambra State by netozii(op): 7:22am On Jan 27, 2015
the video below showed that our leaders are concentrating on urban areas and neglecting the rural areas. the only way we could help these unlucky victims of our system is to call upon the stake holders.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rU2Euwa88OA
CrimeRe: Husband Guilty Of Molestation For Not ''Pulling-Out'' At Wife's Request by netozii(m): 8:16am On Apr 28, 2013
KnegroDamus: ^ I understand you

All i'm saying is don't spread BS. I can understand that you feel like you have been wronged and don't want that to happen to anyone else, but that doesn't give you license to spread misleading information.

What do you mean by de-genderize? Gender is good, men and women benefit from it. And no it is not "legal" for a husband to rape a wife, or this case from the OP would have never made it to court.

If rape is a real threat in someones marriage... they should not have gotten married in the first place. I think the average woman is capable enough to understand that.
To de-genderize, I mean a re-visit and upturning of genderization(a specific role assigned to a particular gender in the society) that makes the woman seen and unheard, turning her into the man's property.

On the second issue on legality of a husband raping his wife, just take out ur time and read thru marital rap.e...even the so called developed world are now waking up to the cry of married WOMEN....below is what I copied from the report of first resolution against MARITAL RAP.E:

In 2006, it was estimated that marital rap.e could be prosecuted in at least 104 countries (in four of these countries, marital rap.e could be prosecuted only when the spouses were judicially separated)

...only when they are judicially separated...makes no sense
and me n u know that Nigeria is not part of the 104 countries and even America still find it difficult to prosecute MARITAL RAP.E.

from ur comment; if rape is a real threat..... thats why we all need to pray, people get married believing they are inseparable...then devil comes. I tell you, love may be blind, but marriage is not...marriage sees with microscope...
netozii
www.kobolife.com
CrimeRe: Husband Guilty Of Molestation For Not ''Pulling-Out'' At Wife's Request by netozii(m):
KnegroDamus: [size=15pt]Thats like me saying "murder is the constant process of intimidation by which all women keep all other women in a constant state of fear"


you see how silly that sounds? I hope you understand what i mean about the "feminine angle".


lol[/size]
We are the product of our past and what turned me into a feminist may be a force to correct some errors in our present. There are leakages in our society imposed mainly by law and religion to favor men, but we need to degenderize. KnegroDramus, Even the law says that a husband cannot rap.e his wife....its as good as saying a husband cannot kill his wife, so if he does, the law does not cover that angle. Issues on sex is pure masculine, and men take advantage of it. I don't need to preach on how many issues of this sordid cases we experience....I Like ur sarcasm and abeg, i no be loner...
netozii
www.kobolife.com

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