₦airaland Forum

Perhaps youthful exuberance is something no one can ever take away. To be young is to be restless, to want to taste, to try, to experiment. Yet when it comes to sexuality, this exuberance often takes a dangerous turn. Many young people are driven to explore with reckless abandon, not simply because of uncontrollable desire but because society has failed to prepare them. Most of us were never properly cultured into understanding sex. Parents avoided the subject, teachers skipped it, and churches condemned it without explanation. In that silence, sex became a mystery. And mystery, especially when tied to something as natural as desire, always breeds perversion.

When young people are left to discover on their own, they turn to whispers, pornography, gossip, and trial and error. It becomes less about intimacy and more about conquest.

Curiosity becomes addiction.

Each new experience is seen as a victory, even though the reality is the same. There is no magic difference between one person and another, yet the forbidden fruit creates illusions. As the Igbo say, onye ajụjụ anaghi efu ụzọ — he who asks questions does not miss the road. But here, questions are punished, not answered. And so many lose their way.

I have often thought that if sex were not hidden behind shame, it would not hold the power it does today. Look at history. In parts of Africa in the early 20th century, women walked freely without bras or rigid codes of modesty. Traditional attire revealed more than what is acceptable now, yet there was no frenzy. The human body was ordinary, not a spectacle. Today, a girl without a bra is turned into a spectacle. She becomes the subject of gossip, mockery, or lust. I recently saw a video of women being denied entry into an exam hall unless they wore bras. Such absurdity shows how far shame has gone in shaping our society.

The irony is that cultures which cover themselves completely, where women are hidden from head to toe and sometimes only the eyes are visible, often report higher cases of rape and abuse. Concealment does not cure desire. Hiding the body does not make people pure. It only twists desire into something darker. What is forbidden is often hungered for the most. And when hunger is suppressed, it eventually erupts with force, violent and destructive.

Here, the story is familiar. How many parents sit down with their children to talk honestly about sex? Very few. What we heard growing up were warnings: Do not follow bad boys. Do not let a boy touch you. If you get pregnant, you are finished. That was the teaching. Nothing about consent. Nothing about respect. Nothing about responsibility. We were warned with fear, not taught with truth. And so we went to learn on our own. Some learned from pornography, some from friends, and others through painful mistakes. By the time habits formed, it was often too late. The results are all around us: teenage pregnancies, abortions, broken marriages, addictions, crimes of rape and molestation. These are not simply accidents of youthful exuberance. They are the harvest of a society that planted ignorance.

Religion, instead of filling the gap, has often deepened it. Churches preach abstinence but rarely teach understanding, except demonizing natural sexual urges. Mosques call for modesty but offer little practical guidance. And when scandals happen within the religious institutions themselves, silence is the response. The young are left more confused than ever. They hear sex is evil, then they hear sex is holy in marriage. But no one explains how to journey from one truth to the other. The silence is louder than the sermon.

Things could be different. If sex were approached as openly as food or sleep, it would lose its dangerous mystery. If parents and teachers created safe spaces for questions, the young would not have to learn from pornography or gossip. If boundaries were explained with reasons instead of threats, they would make sense. Boundaries are necessary, yes, but boundaries rooted in fear collapse while boundaries rooted in understanding hold firm.

As an Igbo man, I think often of our old wisdom. Our ancestors may not have spoken openly about sex, but they guided the mind with proverbs. They prepared the heart with stories. They knew that curiosity cannot be killed; it must be guided. Agwọ a hụrụ taa bụ̀ nwa echi — the snake seen today was born yesterday. If you do not deal with things early, they grow into problems tomorrow. That is the mistake our society keeps repeating. By refusing to guide children early, we leave them at the mercy of perversion.

Youthful exuberance will never disappear. Desire will never disappear. The only question is whether it will be healthy or destructive. That depends on the society that raises the youth. If sex is treated as mystery, it becomes obsession. If treated as shame, it becomes a wound. But if treated with openness and wisdom, it becomes what it was always meant to be: part of life, not the ruin of it. The problem is not the youth, it is the society that raised them in silence. A society that prefers to cover its eyes and close its mouth, then cries in shock when consequences arrive. Until that changes, youthful exuberance will continue to turn into youthful excess. The fault is not in the exuberance. The fault is in the silence of the elders, who in turn were not properly guided also...

What Really Defines Marriage?

I was having a conversation with a friend about marriage when I asked her a simple question: “What would you do if your husband brought another woman home?” Without hesitation, she replied, “Oh, he can never do that. If he tries it, that’s divorce.”

I let her speak, but then I asked, “What’s the definition of marriage?” She said it was one man, one wife, according to the Bible. But here is where I pressed further: Where exactly does the Bible say that? Most people point to Adam and Eve, but that story had no family, no bride price, no ceremony. If we look deeper, the same Bible shows Solomon with hundreds of wives, David with many, and even great men of faith who never married at all. Jesus himself wasn’t married.

Paul the Apostle presents another angle. As a Pharisee, it is possible he had once been married, since marriage was almost expected in that tradition. Yet when we meet him in Scripture, he lived and travelled like a single man. His letters even encouraged singleness as a way of focusing fully on God’s work. If Paul had a wife, she is never mentioned, never shown following him from city to city. His mission became his family, his call greater than his household. This reminds us that marriage in the Bible was not a single mould — some men were polygamous, some lived without marriage entirely, and some, like Paul, may have stepped away from marriage for the sake of purpose.

So, what then is marriage? For me, the real weight of marriage is not about quoting Adam and Eve or holding up Solomon’s story. The point is exclusivity. And exclusivity is less about religion and more about responsibility. When you share yourself with one person only, you protect your home from the chaos that comes with divided loyalties and diseases carried from outside. Sleeping with someone outside your marriage is never just about that one act — it means inheriting the entire history of everyone that person has ever been with. That alone shows why discipline matters.

Marriage, stripped of all arguments, is not about tallying Bible verses or comparing traditions. It is about responsibility. It is about culture. It is about discipline — the ability to understand that you no longer live for yourself alone, but for someone else too.

Are We Dating, or Just Acting Married?

I often wonder what dating has really become in our time. To me, it seems many people no longer see dating as a stage of discovery, but as a rehearsal for marriage. From the very first moment they commit to someone, the unspoken rule is clear: you must now act like husband and wife. You’re not supposed to talk to anyone else, you’re not supposed to see anyone else, and just like that, you are left with only one option.

But what happens if that option collapses? If tomorrow the man changes his taste, misbehaves, or simply decides he no longer wants the relationship, he walks away. And the woman, having acted married for years, suddenly finds herself with no one else to turn to, because she had already closed the door on everyone else.

I think dating should be different. It should be about knowing each other, about exploring and learning if two people can truly build together. Dating does not have to mean marriage. It doesn’t even have to guarantee marriage. It should simply mean: we are talking, we are learning, we are figuring things out. That is why I keep stressing—dating should never be confused with sex.

When approached this way, it makes sense to talk with several people at once. Not because of a lack of seriousness, but because you are allowing yourself to genuinely explore your options. Among them, one may stand out and say, “Let’s move this forward. Let’s make this courtship.” Courtship, to me, is the point where the commitment becomes clear, where exclusivity begins, and where the intention for marriage is visible. That is when you can naturally let others go and focus on the one person you have chosen.

Yet what I see today is people who are not even ready for marriage but are already dating as though they were married. They cling tightly to one person for years, often out of habit, and then end up marrying them—not necessarily because they are the best choice, but because they were the only one left after six long years of behaving like husband and wife.

This, I believe, is one of the hidden traps of modern dating: mistaking exclusivity for certainty, and rehearsal for reality.

The Standards of Dressing and Perception

Some people have come to believe there is a universal standard for how one should dress, particularly in professional settings, including the entertainment industry. This perception, heavily influenced by societal norms and perhaps the polished idealism portrayed in science fiction, leads to assumptions about what constitutes appropriate attire. For instance, consider an audition scenario: a person shows up dressed casually or, as some might say, "shabbily," with their belly button exposed or their breasts unrestrained because they chose not to wear a bra. Immediately, judgments are formed based on appearance.

The question then arises: why should appearance overshadow talent?

The essence of the movie industry lies in its ability to transform an individual into a character. If someone, regardless of their attire, can convincingly embody the role they’re auditioning for, why should their casual or unconventional dress matter? Costumes and wardrobe departments exist to dress actors according to the film’s requirements. The core focus should remain on the actor's ability to bring a character to life, not their personal dress code at an audition.

Judging someone as "shabby" or "inappropriate" because they don’t conform to societal norms of dressing is more reflective of the observer’s moral biases than the individual’s capabilities. Societal perceptions of appropriate dress are not static—they evolve over time. What seems unacceptable today may become standard tomorrow. Moreover, in some films, actors are deliberately dressed to look disheveled or provocative. One could point to performances where actors, such as Mercy Johnson, have played roles in which their attire exposed much of their bodies. Yet, these actors delivered stellar performances that captivated audiences.

The Problem with Moral Judgments

Posting pictures of underdressed individuals online to ridicule them highlights a deeper societal issue: the obsession with projecting morality onto others. But why should someone's personal style or choice of dress become the focal point of their competence or character? In other professions, like healthcare, you might encounter doctors and nurses with tattoos and piercings. These visible markers of self-expression don’t undermine their professional skills or dedication. If it doesn’t impact their work, why should it matter?

Dressing and Character Are Not Synonymous

Equating someone’s appearance with their moral or professional character is a flawed assumption. A neatly dressed individual could be dishonest, while a casually dressed one could be a person of integrity. Criminals don’t always fit the stereotypes of rugged appearances or tattoos; they could very well look like an everyday pastor or a well-dressed neighbour.

Ultimately, society needs to shift away from this fixation on appearance. Judging people based on their clothing choices, especially in contexts where those choices don’t hinder their abilities or professionalism, is not only unfair but also unproductive. A person’s worth, talent, and character are far more complex than what they choose to wear.

It’s baffling, isn’t it? The overblown spectacle surrounding the simple repair of a bad road highlights a deeper issue. Why should something as routine as road maintenance—an obligation of governance—warrant such fanfare? Today, while heading to the bank and passing through Ogba, near Area G and NIJ, I noticed a crowd of pressmen. Cameras, microphones, reporters, and even drones filled the air. It was as though some grand feat was being celebrated. But no, it was just a road repair. Not a bridge, not a monumental infrastructure project—just patching up a road that had been in disrepair for months.

The presence of so many media outlets—TVC, NTA, AIT, and others—raised an even more curious question: who orchestrated this coordinated display? Media houses, supposedly operating independently, converging at the same spot suggests a larger, unseen hand at work. It’s a telling reminder that the news we consume is often shaped by someone else’s agenda. Beyond the media spectacle, though, lies the core absurdity: why is fixing a road, something that should be a basic function of governance, treated as a remarkable achievement? It feels more like an attempt to create the illusion of progress where none exists. Rather than celebrating the bare minimum, perhaps the focus should be on holding those in power accountable for why the road was left in such a state for so long in the first place.