₦airaland Forum

Estelle247:
Funny post indeed! But what are those of us that are neither born with wooden nor silver spoon born with?

RobinHez:
The last part though..

ladyF:
Hehehe... All of us that were born with wooden spoon can relate to all these. That rubber and paper stuff can paralyse you at close range!!! Just target the person's neck.

It's [size=15pt]LadyF[/size] again

ireneony:
Team silver spoon

Ksslib:
In today's world where riches happen to be the quickest way to gain respect and enjoy life to the fullest, it is no surprise that if given the chance, everyone would rather they were born with a silver spoon. But life being the biitch she has aways been, happens to have this criteria we still dont know about, she uses to distribute her "silver spoon" to a select few,while the rest, share what's left of the proverbial "wooden spoon". And there are certain things, those,whose family, at a point, every wielded a "wooden spoon" can identify with: things like


1.. YOU LEARN TO RESPECT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS!
I, ksslib, happen to be the first child my parents brought into this world, but it's really painful, having been denied the earned right to bask in the euphoria of being the eldest child in the family, no thanks to my brothers(mostly pre civil war furniture and utensils) littered all over the house that, my parents, especially mother, annoyingly holds dear to heart. I remember how if in a fit of anger, I mistakenly kicked the rusted blue cupboard, she would be quick to remind me of why I shouldn't be rude to my elder brother, who happens to be 23yrs my senior. How i would look at it with scorn "So at this age, you still dey ur papa house"? "You no dey marry"?

We had this black pot, whose back, we didn't bother washing again, after constant fire wood usage made it pretty clear that, some scars are just meant to be. And as if to wave off any misconceptions, the "stone-age" aroma the pot always made a conscuious effort to fill every food cooked in it with, didnt need remind me of who, once again, was the boss....the message was pretty clear... Or Is it the "ancient of days" vintage cushion that would not hesitate to pierce ya with it's wooden lethal teeth, strategically hidden where one is supposed to sit? Reminding you that, a small boy like you is only allowed to sit on an elder with one nyash, the other, suspended in mid-air as a sign of respect. Age, they say, is just a number, but certainly not between I and my Bro's.

2.. WHEN WE ATE, WE ATE BIG!
My mother could use one sachet of milo, half tea spoon of cowbell to make tea off lake chad. And before you accuse my mother of using too much milk, I should let you know that, our neighbour, mama ochuko, could use the same resources as my mum, to make tea out of the Atlantic ocean. I know what you are thinking right now: "Isn't that a whole lot ot tea"? . But wait and watch how just one dip from the saccharine coated bread reduces the ocean to a mere river. While the next, reduces it to a canal. And the next thing you ll be hearing is "I never belle full"..

Dont even get me started with how we soak garri. Look, when things are not going too well for the family, you ll learn how to soak two cups of garri with 50litres gallon of water. There was this day my little cousin wept bitterly after he couldn't locate his two piece of groundnut that went rogue within the vase expanse of the garri ocean. We had to involve the Navy to deliver them safely, avoiding what could have propelled a potential loss of human lives. This was a boy who could dip his bare hand in a 200 degree hot fire just to remove roasted yam when hungry, so who are you to blame me for involving the military?


3.. NOTHING GETS THROWN AWAY...NOTHING!
Being poor comes with alot of disadvantages, but one of the few advantages lies there-in the fact that it awakens that creativity buried deep within. Such creativity where, a sachet of used tomato paste could get incorporated into the interior decor of the living room so brilliantly that even an x-ray scan cannot reveal which half of the red curtain is patched with strictly Gino.
Every single item had an alternate use, one of the reasons why I personally made sure no shoe of mine or mother's got thrown away. The old shoes were used as spare parts by yours faithfully, to rejuvenate current dying shoes. I had this black shoe, whose nose, I patched with a red leather from one of my mum's dead high heel, while the back, had a touch of yellow-blue i cut out from an old easy wear of, you gussed right--mother's. Afterall, even Joseph had a coat of many colours and everyone was ok with it... Seventy percent of my jean trousers back then, transformed into rugged jeans as a sign of protest when i didn't want to let go, so you could say even my fashion sense back then, was ahead of its time. And somebody should tell Kanye west to stop making noise about his Yezus cloth line because no be today boys begin wear rag....it haff teyed.

Enough about my creativity, mother was creative too. She made sure all used yellow custard containers were littered everywhere, serving different purposes like... what we used to pour water on the body, keep toothbrush, keep sponge, keep soap,drink water, drink akamu, store maggi, salt, pepper, crayfish. .. and in no time, our house began looking like a chemistry lab.

4.. YOU GROW IN YOUR CLOTHING!
While rich kids were rocking body- hugs and slim fitted clothing, we the poor kids, were always clothed in what i would describe as a typical "clown attire". I was kind of stubborn when growing up, so you would understand why even after several warnings and pleas from mother, I couldn't stop visiting the bush with friends, to jump from high altitudes after school hours. I came from school this faithful day and when I was introduced to my to be christmas shirt, then and there, i truly understand how much mother loved me. She bought me a Parachute sized multi-purpose T-shirt i could also be using to jump from high altitudes, safely. Not only was the T-shirt resisting air when i wore it, i also came to realise it was resisting motion too, when i tried walking..

The jeans wasnt any better,infact when I saw it, I thought it was my dad's. The waist alone was four times my belly but mother assured me it wasn't going to be an issue at all when she unveiled my Christmas belt that looked longer than a laptop cable. And With the help of neighbours, we were able to fold it 32 times before it sized my length, with each folding measuring 6 feet long.
Now, if there is one fashion item I have a very strong conviction that all poor parents secretly agree on,then it has to be the goddamn shoes. Your mum brings out this fine shoe, you eagerly put in those tiny legs, only to start weeping bitterly when your whole leg gets swallowed at the shoe-lace boundary, realising there is still enough room for another leg just right in front of your toe. Who also remembers how running away from knock-outs on Christmas day was out of the question because, though the spirit is willing, the shoe is weak.
Apparently, the philosophy behind poor people buying over-sized fashion items for their kids lies on the sole fact that "the kids can wear them for as many years till they become adults and marry", thereby saving cost... . Isn't that genius?

5.. WHEN WE PLAYED, WE "PLAYED" TO KILL!
When I was just seven years old, I had fully developed a set of skills and savagery that qualified me for the position of Leuitenant in the Nigerian army. We were so young, yet I & my gang of carefully selected comrades could effortlessly wipe out boko haram, so far the Government was ready to supply enough rubber bands and paper( which we used as bullet,i kid you not.
While our mates were busy playing with fancy toys and the likes, we were out in the dark,crawling in the shadows bare-bellied, stretching rubber bands and aiming with deadly precision that would no doubt leave even a seasoned sniper in envy. A touch from one bullet is all you need to realise that, it only takes the right amount of folding to metamophorize a harmless paper into a weapon of mass destruction.

There was also this football game we called "Opio"(the kpako name for "nut-meg" ) where, if the ball passes between your legs, you ll be spared from mass beating only, and only if, you touch a specific wall. Easy right? Well, what you fail to realise here,is that, touching this wall unscathed, is almost IMPOSSIBLE, as it is well guarded by people who will make sure you lose either a limb or tooth before you get within 2feet of the wall peremeter. Had one of the "wall security" guarded the cell Micheal Scofiled was dumped in, he would have still been there to this day. So you can understand why after I was "nut-megged", I ran for my dear life with just pant,no shirt and no slippers, while the people I called "friends" chased me bare-footed to the border between Ghana and Contonou.

Source:ksslib

Ksslib:
In today's world where riches happen to be the quickest way to gain respect and enjoy life to the fullest, it is no surprise that if given the chance, everyone would rather they were born with a silver spoon. But life being the biitch she has aways been, happens to have this criteria we still dont know about, she uses to distribute her "silver spoon" to a select few,while the rest, share what's left of the proverbial "wooden spoon". And there are certain things, those,whose family, at a point, every wielded a "wooden spoon" can identify with: things like


1.. YOU LEARN TO RESPECT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS!
I, ksslib, happen to be the first child my parents brought into this world, but it's really painful, having been denied the earned right to bask in the euphoria of being the eldest child in the family, no thanks to my brothers(mostly pre civil war furniture and utensils) littered all over the house that, my parents, especially mother, annoyingly holds dear to heart. I remember how if in a fit of anger, I mistakenly kicked the rusted blue cupboard, she would be quick to remind me of why I shouldn't be rude to my elder brother, who happens to be 23yrs my senior. How i would look at it with scorn "So at this age, you still dey ur papa house"? "You no dey marry"?

We had this black pot, whose back, we didn't bother washing again, after constant fire wood usage made it pretty clear that, some scars are just meant to be. And as if to wave off any misconceptions, the "stone-age" aroma the pot always made a conscuious effort to fill every food cooked in it with, didnt need remind me of who, once again, was the boss....the message was pretty clear... Or Is it the "ancient of days" vintage cushion that would not hesitate to pierce ya with it's wooden lethal teeth, strategically hidden where one is supposed to sit? Reminding you that, a small boy like you is only allowed to sit on an elder with one nyash, the other, suspended in mid-air as a sign of respect. Age, they say, is just a number, but certainly not between I and my Bro's.

2.. WHEN WE ATE, WE ATE BIG!
My mother could use one sachet of milo, half tea spoon of cowbell to make tea off lake chad. And before you accuse my mother of using too much milk, I should let you know that, our neighbour, mama ochuko, could use the same resources as my mum, to make tea out of the Atlantic ocean. I know what you are thinking right now: "Isn't that a whole lot ot tea"? . But wait and watch how just one dip from the saccharine coated bread reduces the ocean to a mere river. While the next, reduces it to a canal. And the next thing you ll be hearing is "I never belle full"..

Dont even get me started with how we soak garri. Look, when things are not going too well for the family, you ll learn how to soak two cups of garri with 50litres gallon of water. There was this day my little cousin wept bitterly after he couldn't locate his two piece of groundnut that went rogue within the vase expanse of the garri ocean. We had to involve the Navy to deliver them safely, avoiding what could have propelled a potential loss of human lives. This was a boy who could dip his bare hand in a 200 degree hot fire just to remove roasted yam when hungry, so who are you to blame me for involving the military?


3.. NOTHING GETS THROWN AWAY...NOTHING!
Being poor comes with alot of disadvantages, but one of the few advantages lies there-in the fact that it awakens that creativity buried deep within. Such creativity where, a sachet of used tomato paste could get incorporated into the interior decor of the living room so brilliantly that even an x-ray scan cannot reveal which half of the red curtain is patched with strictly Gino.
Every single item had an alternate use, one of the reasons why I personally made sure no shoe of mine or mother's got thrown away. The old shoes were used as spare parts by yours faithfully, to rejuvenate current dying shoes. I had this black shoe, whose nose, I patched with a red leather from one of my mum's dead high heel, while the back, had a touch of yellow-blue i cut out from an old easy wear of, you gussed right--mother's. Afterall, even Joseph had a coat of many colours and everyone was ok with it... Seventy percent of my jean trousers back then, transformed into rugged jeans as a sign of protest when i didn't want to let go, so you could say even my fashion sense back then, was ahead of its time. And somebody should tell Kanye west to stop making noise about his Yezus cloth line because no be today boys begin wear rag....it haff teyed.

Enough about my creativity, mother was creative too. She made sure all used yellow custard containers were littered everywhere, serving different purposes like... what we used to pour water on the body, keep toothbrush, keep sponge, keep soap,drink water, drink akamu, store maggi, salt, pepper, crayfish. .. and in no time, our house began looking like a chemistry lab.

4.. YOU GROW IN YOUR CLOTHING!
While rich kids were rocking body- hugs and slim fitted clothing, we the poor kids, were always clothed in what i would describe as a typical "clown attire". I was kind of stubborn when growing up, so you would understand why even after several warnings and pleas from mother, I couldn't stop visiting the bush with friends, to jump from high altitudes after school hours. I came from school this faithful day and when I was introduced to my to be christmas shirt, then and there, i truly understand how much mother loved me. She bought me a Parachute sized multi-purpose T-shirt i could also be using to jump from high altitudes, safely. Not only was the T-shirt resisting air when i wore it, i also came to realise it was resisting motion too, when i tried walking..

The jeans wasnt any better,infact when I saw it, I thought it was my dad's. The waist alone was four times my belly but mother assured me it wasn't going to be an issue at all when she unveiled my Christmas belt that looked longer than a laptop cable. And With the help of neighbours, we were able to fold it 32 times before it sized my length, with each folding measuring 6 feet long.
Now, if there is one fashion item I have a very strong conviction that all poor parents secretly agree on,then it has to be the goddamn shoes. Your mum brings out this fine shoe, you eagerly put in those tiny legs, only to start weeping bitterly when your whole leg gets swallowed at the shoe-lace boundary, realising there is still enough room for another leg just right in front of your toe. Who also remembers how running away from knock-outs on Christmas day was out of the question because, though the spirit is willing, the shoe is weak.
Apparently, the philosophy behind poor people buying over-sized fashion items for their kids lies on the sole fact that "the kids can wear them for as many years till they become adults and marry", thereby saving cost... . Isn't that genius?

5.. WHEN WE PLAYED, WE "PLAYED" TO KILL!
When I was just seven years old, I had fully developed a set of skills and savagery that qualified me for the position of Leuitenant in the Nigerian army. We were so young, yet I & my gang of carefully selected comrades could effortlessly wipe out boko haram, so far the Government was ready to supply enough rubber bands and paper( which we used as bullet,i kid you not.
While our mates were busy playing with fancy toys and the likes, we were out in the dark,crawling in the shadows bare-bellied, stretching rubber bands and aiming with deadly precision that would no doubt leave even a seasoned sniper in envy. A touch from one bullet is all you need to realise that, it only takes the right amount of folding to metamophorize a harmless paper into a weapon of mass destruction.

There was also this football game we called "Opio"(the kpako name for "nut-meg" ) where, if the ball passes between your legs, you ll be spared from mass beating only, and only if, you touch a specific wall. Easy right? Well, what you fail to realise here,is that, touching this wall unscathed, is almost IMPOSSIBLE, as it is well guarded by people who will make sure you lose either a limb or tooth before you get within 2feet of the wall peremeter. Had one of the "wall security" guarded the cell Micheal Scofiled was dumped in, he would have still been there to this day. So you can understand why after I was "nut-megged", I ran for my dear life with just pant,no shirt and no slippers, while the people I called "friends" chased me bare-footed to the border between Ghana and Contonou.

Source:ksslib

E383:
You were born with a spoon? Lucky you. Some of had to make chopsticks.

Ksslib:
In today's world where riches happen to be the quickest way to gain respect and enjoy life to the fullest, it is no surprise that if given the chance, everyone would rather they were born with a silver spoon. But life being the biitch she has aways been, happens to have this criteria we still dont know about, she uses to distribute her "silver spoon" to a select few,while the rest, share what's left of the proverbial "wooden spoon". And there are certain things, those,whose family, at a point, every wielded a "wooden spoon" can identify with: things like


1.. YOU LEARN TO RESPECT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS!
I, ksslib, happen to be the first child my parents brought into this world, but it's really painful, having been denied the earned right to bask in the euphoria of being the eldest child in the family, no thanks to my brothers(mostly pre civil war furniture and utensils) littered all over the house that, my parents, especially mother, annoyingly holds dear to heart. I remember how if in a fit of anger, I mistakenly kicked the rusted blue cupboard, she would be quick to remind me of why I shouldn't be rude to my elder brother, who happens to be 23yrs my senior. How i would look at it with scorn "So at this age, you still dey ur papa house"? "You no dey marry"?

We had this black pot, whose back, we didn't bother washing again, after constant fire wood usage made it pretty clear that, some scars are just meant to be. And as if to wave off any misconceptions, the "stone-age" aroma the pot always made a conscuious effort to fill every food cooked in it with, didnt need remind me of who, once again, was the boss....the message was pretty clear... Or Is it the "ancient of days" vintage cushion that would not hesitate to pierce ya with it's wooden lethal teeth, strategically hidden where one is supposed to sit? Reminding you that, a small boy like you is only allowed to sit on an elder with one nyash, the other, suspended in mid-air as a sign of respect. Age, they say, is just a number, but certainly not between I and my Bro's.

2.. WHEN WE ATE, WE ATE BIG!
My mother could use one sachet of milo, half tea spoon of cowbell to make tea off lake chad. And before you accuse my mother of using too much milk, I should let you know that, our neighbour, mama ochuko, could use the same resources as my mum, to make tea out of the Atlantic ocean. I know what you are thinking right now: "Isn't that a whole lot ot tea"? . But wait and watch how just one dip from the saccharine coated bread reduces the ocean to a mere river. While the next, reduces it to a canal. And the next thing you ll be hearing is "I never belle full"..

Dont even get me started with how we soak garri. Look, when things are not going too well for the family, you ll learn how to soak two cups of garri with 50litres gallon of water. There was this day my little cousin wept bitterly after he couldn't locate his two piece of groundnut that went rogue within the vase expanse of the garri ocean. We had to involve the Navy to deliver them safely, avoiding what could have propelled a potential loss of human lives. This was a boy who could dip his bare hand in a 200 degree hot fire just to remove roasted yam when hungry, so who are you to blame me for involving the military?


3.. NOTHING GETS THROWN AWAY...NOTHING!
Being poor comes with alot of disadvantages, but one of the few advantages lies there-in the fact that it awakens that creativity buried deep within. Such creativity where, a sachet of used tomato paste could get incorporated into the interior decor of the living room so brilliantly that even an x-ray scan cannot reveal which half of the red curtain is patched with strictly Gino.
Every single item had an alternate use, one of the reasons why I personally made sure no shoe of mine or mother's got thrown away. The old shoes were used as spare parts by yours faithfully, to rejuvenate current dying shoes. I had this black shoe, whose nose, I patched with a red leather from one of my mum's dead high heel, while the back, had a touch of yellow-blue i cut out from an old easy wear of, you gussed right--mother's. Afterall, even Joseph had a coat of many colours and everyone was ok with it... Seventy percent of my jean trousers back then, transformed into rugged jeans as a sign of protest when i didn't want to let go, so you could say even my fashion sense back then, was ahead of its time. And somebody should tell Kanye west to stop making noise about his Yezus cloth line because no be today boys begin wear rag....it haff teyed.

Enough about my creativity, mother was creative too. She made sure all used yellow custard containers were littered everywhere, serving different purposes like... what we used to pour water on the body, keep toothbrush, keep sponge, keep soap,drink water, drink akamu, store maggi, salt, pepper, crayfish. .. and in no time, our house began looking like a chemistry lab.

4.. YOU GROW IN YOUR CLOTHING!
While rich kids were rocking body- hugs and slim fitted clothing, we the poor kids, were always clothed in what i would describe as a typical "clown attire". I was kind of stubborn when growing up, so you would understand why even after several warnings and pleas from mother, I couldn't stop visiting the bush with friends, to jump from high altitudes after school hours. I came from school this faithful day and when I was introduced to my to be christmas shirt, then and there, i truly understand how much mother loved me. She bought me a Parachute sized multi-purpose T-shirt i could also be using to jump from high altitudes, safely. Not only was the T-shirt resisting air when i wore it, i also came to realise it was resisting motion too, when i tried walking..

The jeans wasnt any better,infact when I saw it, I thought it was my dad's. The waist alone was four times my belly but mother assured me it wasn't going to be an issue at all when she unveiled my Christmas belt that looked longer than a laptop cable. And With the help of neighbours, we were able to fold it 32 times before it sized my length, with each folding measuring 6 feet long.
Now, if there is one fashion item I have a very strong conviction that all poor parents secretly agree on,then it has to be the goddamn shoes. Your mum brings out this fine shoe, you eagerly put in those tiny legs, only to start weeping bitterly when your whole leg gets swallowed at the shoe-lace boundary, realising there is still enough room for another leg just right in front of your toe. Who also remembers how running away from knock-outs on Christmas day was out of the question because, though the spirit is willing, the shoe is weak.
Apparently, the philosophy behind poor people buying over-sized fashion items for their kids lies on the sole fact that "the kids can wear them for as many years till they become adults and marry", thereby saving cost... . Isn't that genius?

5.. WHEN WE PLAYED, WE "PLAYED" TO KILL!
When I was just seven years old, I had fully developed a set of skills and savagery that qualified me for the position of Leuitenant in the Nigerian army. We were so young, yet I & my gang of carefully selected comrades could effortlessly wipe out boko haram, so far the Government was ready to supply enough rubber bands and paper( which we used as bullet,i kid you not.
While our mates were busy playing with fancy toys and the likes, we were out in the dark,crawling in the shadows bare-bellied, stretching rubber bands and aiming with deadly precision that would no doubt leave even a seasoned sniper in envy. A touch from one bullet is all you need to realise that, it only takes the right amount of folding to metamophorize a harmless paper into a weapon of mass destruction.

There was also this football game we called "Opio"(the kpako name for "nut-meg" ) where, if the ball passes between your legs, you ll be spared from mass beating only, and only if, you touch a specific wall. Easy right? Well, what you fail to realise here,is that, touching this wall unscathed, is almost IMPOSSIBLE, as it is well guarded by people who will make sure you lose either a limb or tooth before you get within 2feet of the wall peremeter. Had one of the "wall security" guarded the cell Micheal Scofiled was dumped in, he would have still been there to this day. So you can understand why after I was "nut-megged", I ran for my dear life with just pant,no shirt and no slippers, while the people I called "friends" chased me bare-footed to the border between Ghana and Contonou.

Source:ksslib

Ksslib:
In today's world where riches happen to be the quickest way to gain respect and enjoy life to the fullest, it is no surprise that if given the chance, everyone would rather they were born with a silver spoon. But life being the biitch she has aways been, happens to have this criteria we still dont know about, she uses to distribute her "silver spoon" to a select few,while the rest, share what's left of the proverbial "wooden spoon". And there are certain things, those,whose family, at a point, every wielded a "wooden spoon" can identify with: things like


1.. YOU LEARN TO RESPECT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS!
I, ksslib, happen to be the first child my parents brought into this world, but it's really painful, having been denied the earned right to bask in the euphoria of being the eldest child in the family, no thanks to my brothers(mostly pre civil war furniture and utensils) littered all over the house that, my parents, especially mother, annoyingly holds dear to heart. I remember how if in a fit of anger, I mistakenly kicked the rusted blue cupboard, she would be quick to remind me of why I shouldn't be rude to my elder brother, who happens to be 23yrs my senior. How i would look at it with scorn "So at this age, you still dey ur papa house"? "You no dey marry"?

We had this black pot, whose back, we didn't bother washing again, after constant fire wood usage made it pretty clear that, some scars are just meant to be. And as if to wave off any misconceptions, the "stone-age" aroma the pot always made a conscuious effort to fill every food cooked in it with, didnt need remind me of who, once again, was the boss....the message was pretty clear... Or Is it the "ancient of days" vintage cushion that would not hesitate to pierce ya with it's wooden lethal teeth, strategically hidden where one is supposed to sit? Reminding you that, a small boy like you is only allowed to sit on an elder with one nyash, the other, suspended in mid-air as a sign of respect. Age, they say, is just a number, but certainly not between I and my Bro's.

2.. WHEN WE ATE, WE ATE BIG!
My mother could use one sachet of milo, half tea spoon of cowbell to make tea off lake chad. And before you accuse my mother of using too much milk, I should let you know that, our neighbour, mama ochuko, could use the same resources as my mum, to make tea out of the Atlantic ocean. I know what you are thinking right now: "Isn't that a whole lot ot tea"? . But wait and watch how just one dip from the saccharine coated bread reduces the ocean to a mere river. While the next, reduces it to a canal. And the next thing you ll be hearing is "I never belle full"..

Dont even get me started with how we soak garri. Look, when things are not going too well for the family, you ll learn how to soak two cups of garri with 50litres gallon of water. There was this day my little cousin wept bitterly after he couldn't locate his two piece of groundnut that went rogue within the vase expanse of the garri ocean. We had to involve the Navy to deliver them safely, avoiding what could have propelled a potential loss of human lives. This was a boy who could dip his bare hand in a 200 degree hot fire just to remove roasted yam when hungry, so who are you to blame me for involving the military?


3.. NOTHING GETS THROWN AWAY...NOTHING!
Being poor comes with alot of disadvantages, but one of the few advantages lies there-in the fact that it awakens that creativity buried deep within. Such creativity where, a sachet of used tomato paste could get incorporated into the interior decor of the living room so brilliantly that even an x-ray scan cannot reveal which half of the red curtain is patched with strictly Gino.
Every single item had an alternate use, one of the reasons why I personally made sure no shoe of mine or mother's got thrown away. The old shoes were used as spare parts by yours faithfully, to rejuvenate current dying shoes. I had this black shoe, whose nose, I patched with a red leather from one of my mum's dead high heel, while the back, had a touch of yellow-blue i cut out from an old easy wear of, you gussed right--mother's. Afterall, even Joseph had a coat of many colours and everyone was ok with it... Seventy percent of my jean trousers back then, transformed into rugged jeans as a sign of protest when i didn't want to let go, so you could say even my fashion sense back then, was ahead of its time. And somebody should tell Kanye west to stop making noise about his Yezus cloth line because no be today boys begin wear rag....it haff teyed.

Enough about my creativity, mother was creative too. She made sure all used yellow custard containers were littered everywhere, serving different purposes like... what we used to pour water on the body, keep toothbrush, keep sponge, keep soap,drink water, drink akamu, store maggi, salt, pepper, crayfish. .. and in no time, our house began looking like a chemistry lab.

4.. YOU GROW IN YOUR CLOTHING!
While rich kids were rocking body- hugs and slim fitted clothing, we the poor kids, were always clothed in what i would describe as a typical "clown attire". I was kind of stubborn when growing up, so you would understand why even after several warnings and pleas from mother, I couldn't stop visiting the bush with friends, to jump from high altitudes after school hours. I came from school this faithful day and when I was introduced to my to be christmas shirt, then and there, i truly understand how much mother loved me. She bought me a Parachute sized multi-purpose T-shirt i could also be using to jump from high altitudes, safely. Not only was the T-shirt resisting air when i wore it, i also came to realise it was resisting motion too, when i tried walking..

The jeans wasnt any better,infact when I saw it, I thought it was my dad's. The waist alone was four times my belly but mother assured me it wasn't going to be an issue at all when she unveiled my Christmas belt that looked longer than a laptop cable. And With the help of neighbours, we were able to fold it 32 times before it sized my length, with each folding measuring 6 feet long.
Now, if there is one fashion item I have a very strong conviction that all poor parents secretly agree on,then it has to be the goddamn shoes. Your mum brings out this fine shoe, you eagerly put in those tiny legs, only to start weeping bitterly when your whole leg gets swallowed at the shoe-lace boundary, realising there is still enough room for another leg just right in front of your toe. Who also remembers how running away from knock-outs on Christmas day was out of the question because, though the spirit is willing, the shoe is weak.
Apparently, the philosophy behind poor people buying over-sized fashion items for their kids lies on the sole fact that "the kids can wear them for as many years till they become adults and marry", thereby saving cost... . Isn't that genius?

5.. WHEN WE PLAYED, WE "PLAYED" TO KILL!
When I was just seven years old, I had fully developed a set of skills and savagery that qualified me for the position of Leuitenant in the Nigerian army. We were so young, yet I & my gang of carefully selected comrades could effortlessly wipe out boko haram, so far the Government was ready to supply enough rubber bands and paper( which we used as bullet,i kid you not.
While our mates were busy playing with fancy toys and the likes, we were out in the dark,crawling in the shadows bare-bellied, stretching rubber bands and aiming with deadly precision that would no doubt leave even a seasoned sniper in envy. A touch from one bullet is all you need to realise that, it only takes the right amount of folding to metamophorize a harmless paper into a weapon of mass destruction.

There was also this football game we called "Opio"(the kpako name for "nut-meg" ) where, if the ball passes between your legs, you ll be spared from mass beating only, and only if, you touch a specific wall. Easy right? Well, what you fail to realise here,is that, touching this wall unscathed, is almost IMPOSSIBLE, as it is well guarded by people who will make sure you lose either a limb or tooth before you get within 2feet of the wall peremeter. Had one of the "wall security" guarded the cell Micheal Scofiled was dumped in, he would have still been there to this day. So you can understand why after I was "nut-megged", I ran for my dear life with just pant,no shirt and no slippers, while the people I called "friends" chased me bare-footed to the border between Ghana and Contonou.

Source:ksslib