Monday, May 25, 2015

Public Disgrace of Singleness

So there’s this MFM pastor I like. He is my friend’s pastor, as I don’t go to MFM. I like him because he seems genuinely interested in my welfare, and he doesn’t use the “why are you wearing trouser, why are you wearing earring?” eye to look at me. He is married, with 3 kids, and really vibrant. He encourages me well in my down time.

Anyway, when I came back from Geneva, when I went to do the spoken word for the UN conference, my friend calls and says this man was asking after me, and I should call him. I called him, and told him why I wasn’t available to speak to him. So he said I should come and see him. Reluctantly – very very reluctantly, I dragged myself to his church on Sunday afternoon. I was still resting from my trip, and didn’t even go to my own church that morning.

On getting there, we talked a bit, prayed a bit, etc. He then drilled me about what the whole spoken word thing was about, and I explained the best I could. I showed him a video of one of my performances, and he seemed thrilled. Later, we ended the conversation, and I left.

A couple of weeks later, he called me, and said he wanted me to come and minister in his church because he has a special guest. You see why I like this man? MFM pastor calling a trouser-wearing girl like me to come and minister.

I told him it would be inconvenient since it meant I had to leave the teens I’m supposed to teach in my own church. I told him I would do it but he had to slate me early, so I could leave to my own church.

I could swear that this was what I heard him say. “Please, can you come and do your spoken word in my church. I have a special guest coming to preach, and I want him to see your ministration.”

But he called me a week later, and started asking if I was ready for the ministration, to which I replied in the affirmative. He asked what my topic was, and I told him. He then suggested another topic which I can’t remember now. I told him it was too late because I couldn’t start writing something new and putting it together. I then asked him what topic the pastor was preaching on so I could see how I could manipulate his topic with my ministration during the introduction phase.

It was then the calabash broke.

“What pastor?” The MFM pastor asked.

I was confused. “I thought you said you had a special guest coming to preach in your church, and that is why you are calling me.”

“No o. I mean there’s a guy coming to my church. He is one of our church members, but now works for an oil company in port harcourt. That is the guest I am talking about. He will be in church on Sunday. So I want you to come and do your spoken word, so he can see you. I will now ask him if he is interested in you.”

I’m guessing you are all speechless by now. At this point, I didn’t know what to say. So many things were running through my mind. Couldn’t this man just have called me to come and minister without revealing his true motive to me? After all, the guy also wasn't aware.

“Ha, I didn’t know o. I actually thought it is a pastor.”

“No, it is not.”

Trust my straightforward talk. “Excuse me sir, you know I wear earring and trousers, and you want to introduce me to MFM member.” I protested.

“No o, this guy is not like that o. He is the liberal kind.”

“Me, I don’t know o.” I continued.

My friend, who is the one who introduced me to this MFM pastor, wasn’t around to witness the drama, cos she had gone to the states to put to bed. I reported the whole incident to her, and told her why it was a terrible idea. First, even though we were both Christians, our doctrines differed totally, and then I have a budding manufacturing business in Lagos. She disagreed with me, but that was her own opinion, and I wasn’t buying it.

I picture myself  married to the guy, always wearing wrapper and long skirt, never wearing earring, and always covering my head. It wasn’t a pretty imagination, lol. So I just determined to put all sentiments aside and do the ministration, forgetting the real story behind it.

In the meantime, I was praying hard that the guy will see me, and not like me. In fact, he should very disinterested in me, cos I don’t want any “Pastor said you are my wife” story in my life. I also don’t want anything that would cause me to reject the guy, and it will now be like “See this one that we are trying to help her case, she still has the guts to reject men.”

A day before the ministration, my pastor friend called me, and told me to make sure I don’t wear earring, and I cover my head, since I will be climbing the altar. I was glad he told me because I wouldn’t have thought of taking a hat.

Anyway, the day came, and I did the spoken word without mentioning anything about the drama to the pastor. All the while I knew that my maybe-potential-husband was in the crowd, watching me. I sha tried not to feel like a guinea pig on display, without earrings and a bowler hat. I wore a knee-length bodicon dress. At least, I met them half way on the earring issue, lol.

Till today, the pastor never mentioned the update to me. Maybe the Holy Spirit did not minister to the guy that I was his wife when I was performing, I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t like what he saw, then he must have been blinded by my prayers.

So that was how the story of my life was put up on public display, because someone was looking for husband for me, lol.

P.S: Please know that this happened two years ago, and as at today, I am still not even 30 yet, lol. This means people really care about my marital status.

Monday, May 18, 2015


What do you do when after a long time of following a route, you realize that you have made a terrible mistake?

You really thought you were on the right path

You were so sure, you could bet your life's savings

Now, you have been dealt with the heavy dose of your wrongness

And then it dawns on you that you have to start all over again

But it is really painful because you really thought you were on the right track

What do you do?

Will you live in regret of your decisions for the rest of your life

While drowning yourself in tears

Wallowing in the miry clay

Saying "why me, why me? When will my story change?"


You will...

Acknowledge your mistakes

Accept that the fault was yours

Cry a bit

Dust yourself up

Retrace your steps back to the beginning

And start all over again!

Monday, May 11, 2015

Drawing the line between Faith and Reality

I went to a gift and interior décor shop to get a table last week. The owner and I eventually got talking about business challenges and cash flow issues, especially for capital intensive businesses like interior décor stores.

Without any exaggeration, the worth of the items in her store couldn’t be less than 5 million naira because we all know how expensive a single glass decoration or table can be.

In the course of discussion, I realised how hardworking and dedicated this woman was, and I knew she was into a very risky venture. I asked myself “what if she loses all these?”

So I said to her “I hope this place is insured sha,” expecting to hear the usual “yes of course. Why won’t it be?”

The way she hesitated and looked at me confirmed my worst fear when she said “Not really. You know, there is SPIRITUAL INSURANCE!”

Someone please slap me now.

Here is this gigantic interior décor store that takes the expanse of a whole flat with massive investment, plus another warehouse of another flat where we went to carry the items I bought, completely uninsured. And she says spiritual insurance.

I didn’t enter the warehouse to carry my items because someone did that for me, but I knew for a fact that it was even worth more than the store I was standing in. So this is a minimum of 10 million we are talking about. I am absolutely sure it is more than that because she has so many items, much more than you can imagine.

I asked her how much insurance would cost her annually, and she said N200,000 (two hundred thousand naira). I spent a quarter of that in her shop, and I know that she makes far more than that in a day. I said “excuse me ma, go and do insurance please.” I said I don’t want an incident that would be causing her to say “had I known.” I said “I think you should transfer that risk now, as soon as possible. This is to big for it not to be insured. Just too big. I am not an insurance agent, and I am not gaining anything from this so just take it as an important piece of advice which you must implement on immediately.”

After mentioning some cash flow issues, she said she would do the insurance. To be honest, I don’t know if she would do it. Even if she does it, she didn’t sound like someone who would do it soon, as she doesn’t see the urgency in it.

I didn’t want to outrightly tell her that “what if your store burns down” so that she wouldn’t say I wish her evil. I could see that her pastor and church sticker was on her entrance door so I was sceptical to talk anyhow to people who use spiritual insurance.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am a Christian. Anyone who reads this blog knows that. I pray every day, read my bible every day, etc. Many times, I am engaged in church activities from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. So I don’t think I am really qualified to be called a sceptic or an atheist, though some people would rather label me that because I dare to speak against how some churches are bad neighbours by disturbing people with their loudspeakers at night, in the name of night vigil and stopping people from entering their houses by blocking their gates in residential areas - as if that is what Jesus died for. Anyway, that is another topic on its own because I am sure you can tell how pained I am by this menace.

So my question is this. Do people shun insurance cover because they are Christians? In simple words, should we or should we not insure heavily invested businesses because we have prayed, and covered our businesses with the ‘blood of Jesus’?  When fire outbreaks, flood, natural disasters or robberies occur, is it that the blood of Jesus or spiritual insurance is not at work in that business? Does using insurance cover for your business display a lack of faith?

I know comments here can get controversial because we live in a highly religious society, but let us carefully examine this matter, respecting those who have chosen to solely stick with spiritual insurance and those who have decided to walk by sight by paying the insurance companies.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Would name your child after a celebrity?

I want to know if any of you have friends that were named after famous celebrities. If yes, have you ever asked them why their parents named them after those celebrities?

When I was in boarding house, I had a classmate named Michael Jackson – no jokes. His surname is originally Jackson, but his father thought it wise to name him Michael. He also told us that his sister’s name is Janet, but I don’t know her since she wasn’t in our school. I doubt that it was a lie though. Any man who could name is son Michael Jackson in 1983 – 1984 could definitely name his daughter Janet Jackson.

This guy ended up going to Unilag with me. He wasn’t in my faculty so I never got the opportunity to ask him why his parents did that. I wonder if he even ever asked his father.

In my 500 level, we were asked to register students for a CISCO conference. We gladly complied, and sat at the entrance. Then comes a student to register and collect his tag. We realised his name is HARRY PORTER.

Our mouths opened. We asked him what his real name was, the one his parents gave him, not the one he chose for himself. He said Harry Porter. We asked him if his parents like the series, and why they name him after the main protagonist. He said his surname is really Porter and his first name is Harry, and his parents have no idea about the series. He is a Yoruba boy.

We found it hard to believe, so he went ahead to prove his point.

Firstly, his surname is PORTER, not POTTER, as spelt in the Harry Potter Series.

We weren’t totally convinced as his parents could have used the fact that his surname is Porter to name him after the famous protagonist.

Then what silenced our doubt was when he brought out his ID card. He was born long before JK Rowlings conceived the idea of writing and publishing the Harry Porter Potter series.

Spooky coincidence. It seemed he had used his magic wand and witchcraft on us so we were finally believed. Dumbledore to the rescue.

So even though Harry Porter’s own was unintentional and just a mere coincidence, why do parents name their children after celebrities, making them adopt the name and surname?

My own sister’s name is Hilary. At first, it might not seem like a big deal, except when you consider some facts. First, she is the only one with an English name in my house. Secondly, it is her first name, and she was named after Hilary Clinton!

She was born in 1999, after all of us had become old, and I dare to say my father decided to have a child just because they could name him/her Hilary. Yes, he liked Hilary that much, and he always said whether the child is a boy or a girl, the child would have Hilary as a first name.

His reason? Because Hilary Clinton stood firmly by her husband during the Monica Lewinsky saga even though he was guilty. He was always raving about Hilary, and followed the case to the very end. Till his death, that was the person he admired most in the whole world. He admired her till the point that he went to have a child he didn’t need so he could name after her.

What do you guys think about this? Also if you were to name your child after a famous person, who would that be?

Monday, April 27, 2015

Ruining my neighbours' sexual escapade

A male and female lizard were courting each other right at my window pane. Immediately I saw the back of the female arched in a semicircle and her tail raised, with the male lizard continuously going round her, I remembered what my biology teacher taught me, and knew they were about to mate.

Right at my window pane?

So this is what they do when I'm not around?

I instantly blamed my parent’s decision to use texcote to paint the walls, right there and then

I said to myself “no way, this is my territory. There will be no premarital sex going on here. Where is your wedding ring sef? Show me now because I cannot see any. Damn you lizards.”

"Something I am not doing, you people have the liver to do, right in my very presence. What audacity! You don't even know your mate."

I mean, it was like they were saying to me "I'm having sex, and you aren't. Deal with it." So I decided to rain on their parade.


I immediately brought out a leg of my trainers and threw it at the window to startle them. The male lizard immediately ran away, but the female one didn't. She looked really startled and moved a bit, hanging on the wall but was still there.

Na wa o, this female lizard must really be in the mood. So I kept using my shoe to hit the window. Believe me, it still hung on, and was looking straight at me (or should I say, diagonal since its eye is at the side of its head). I couldn't see whether it's tail was still raise because it was hanging vertically and I was inside my room.

Can you see how in times of pressure, men just run away, and women stay no matter whose ox is gored. I even slid my net open and shut it forcefully about three times but this lizard did not shake from its hanging position

I wasn't sure whether it was hanging for its dear life or it was determined not to give up on the sexual escapade I was bent on ruining.

When after 20 minutes, it was still there, I concluded that they were having sex, but since I was inside, I could only see the head of the female lizard, and the male lizard was beneath, doing the deed.

I concluded that since these lizards did not fear God, and had decided to be unchristian in their ways by having unwedded sex in open space, how would they even fear me?

And you won’t believe it. I am not lying or exaggerating. I was rushing to church the next morning. I was about to close my windows when I saw these same two lizards. The male was courting the female by circling her, and the female had her back arched in a semicircle and her tail raised.

Ewoooo, they were at it again.

Apparently, they don't give a hoot about my ‘no premarital sex in my territory’ law or even the anointing oil I sprinkled overnight to drive spirit husbands that might want to have sex with me away.

I just slid the glass window shut, stepped out of my room, and locked the door, pretending I didn’t notice them.

Damn my horny reptile neighbours! All these lizards of nowadays. Ko si respect mo.

Monday, April 20, 2015

The real meaning of CHANGE!

So on my way from church yesterday, four young adults decided to hitch a ride with me. The sun was really out in full force, and the guy on the right hand side of the back seat wound down the window. As soon as I noticed, I told him to wind it back up because he wasn’t allowing the AC to circulate well. Because of this, I locked all the windows from my side, and later dropped the guy off at his nearest stop.

Later in the right, the lady sitting on my right wanted to wind down, but noticed it wasn’t winding down. She then asked me to wind down, and I asked her why. She said she wanted to throw a sweet wrapper out. The next thing that came out of my mouth was...

“Are you alright?”

 I was extremely surprised. I expected that she of all people would know better.

 “You want to throw something out of my car window on the street.”

Because of my scolding, she tried to defend herself. “It’s just a small sweet wrapper.”

 “Ehn ehn, so what? And you go to ABC church. You are supposed to know better.” I continued my scolding.

“You are a Christian, and are supposed to make a difference.”

She tried to say something else to defend herself.

I now said “Thank God you didn’t throw it out. If you throw anything out of my car window, I will stop the car, you will get down, and you will pick it up! How can you litter the road?”

At this point, she got the message.

“Anytime you have something like that, just put it in your bag, and when you get home, throw it in the bin.”

End of conversation.

I am actually surprised that in this day and age, with all the awareness and shouts of CHANGE up and down, enlightened people can still think throwing things out of cars and littering streets is normal. I just cannot wrap my head around it. And to think she actually asked me to allow her wind the glass down, when she knows I like things being done properly. She must have really thought that it was very normal.

So people, when next you see Nigerians doing or trying to do funny things like littering the streets, jumping queues, urinating in gutters, etc. and you have the power to do something about, please do something about it. Speak out, and the ripple effect of this action will pay off in future. And that people, is how we really CHANGE the country, not by shouting CHANGE.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Irresponsible Memes, Insults and Manipulations

Hi people. I realised it has been a long while since I put of a random post of different topics. I will just let you in on some things that have been going on in my mind

After the presidential elections, when the votes were being counted, even with the average percentage of turnout in the north, there were so many votes counted there. This is because the north is very large, and there’s a high population there, though low population density due to very large landmass. Anyway, someone thought it wise to create a picture meme stating that “with all the votes counted in the north, what exactly had boko haram been killing?” Unfortunately, many Nigerians thought it wise to broadcast this by putting it up on their DP, and laughing at it.

I think this is highly disrespectful to Nigeria and the families of people who lost their lives to the insurgents in the north. It is sad that not enough is being done, and the families have not been compensated. People have lost lives, businesses, homes, and many people have been displaced. Yet some Nigerians are joking “What (not who) has boko haram been killing? As if people in the north are chickens.” What if any of us were the victims. The person who created that meme, and everyone who shared it on their status should cover their eyes in shame! Shame on you all!

Secondly, concerning the woman whose three sons were kidnapped by her new maid. Most people came out condemning her for hiring a maid in OLX. Someone even went on facebook, called her stupid, foolish, and unfit to be a mother. Let me not lie, that comment brought out unhappiness from me. We humans are quick to judge and condemn when unfortunate things happen to people (case of Job). Now, I am not here to debate the woman’s actions, or the rightness of hiring maids or au pairs on the internet. But why would we just come out and ignore people’s history (which we know nothing about), and then insult them because of their misfortune. If a woman loses her marriage, it’s her fault. If a man loses his job, it’s his fault. A child dies of illness, it’s the parents fault. People just find ways to blame the victims for their misfortune. Even though it seems risky, people have hired maids on OLX. Did we insult them? Just because this woman’s story went awry doesn’t give us the right to run our mouth and calling her names. Mind you, she is a mother of four boys (is it easy?). So many children have been kidnapped even with all the carefulness of parents, and so many children have been safe even with the carelessness of the parents. God’s grace comes to play a lot in these situations. Please, let’s dedicate our time to pray for this woman and her family, so they can go through this period with enough support till they get their kids back, and let’s pause on the insult. God forbid, if anything unfortunate happens to us, and people start blaming us in our misfortune.

Lastly, about underage voting. During the presidential election, there was a picture about a young guy doing accreditation that went viral. Some people also thought it wise to gather pictures of children queuing for immunization in the north, cropped the beginning and end of the picture out, and say it was underage voting. Also during the governorship election, there was a picture of a young girl in hijab doing her accreditation, going round too.

I am not partisan, and trust me, this is not a political opinion. But going by the pictures, I am not yet convinced that there were SERIES of underage voting. Maybe later, but not yet, and place emphasis on the word, series. Here is why. When I was 20 years old, I looked younger than two individuals in those 2 pictures who were accrediting. Basically, my face remained the same between 13 and 24. And since then, I would say I have only aged very slightly. If I take away my makeup and extensions (if I wear any), I look far younger than my age once I don’t open my mouth to speak. When I was about 15, a friend of my mother saw me and said “This is your daughter? This one won’t grow old o.” I teach teens in church. I regularly get comments like "we don't see any difference between you and your students. You look just like them." So what I am saying is you can’t say a guy is underage just because he looks young, if you have not seen his birth certificate. I am not saying there was no underage voting, I am only saying I have not yet seen pictorial evidences of series of the,. If we later see a lot of childlike-looking people coming out to vote in pictures (not the immunisation one), we will now raise complaint. But as for now, the only picture is of an individual (during governorship) and another (during presidential). I also think those people who doctored pictures of children on queue for immunisation did a very mischievous thing, and don’t have the interest of Nigeria at heart. Shame!

Anyway, that concludes my rant for now. Feel free to bash my head over or love me up in the comment session.

Monday, April 6, 2015

This is exactly why you don’t want me at your event

I was invited to a game day event by my friend, Jumoke, of Artrubic ( (Everyone really needs to check out mehn. It is all things artsy, a website where people go to upload their writeups, paintings, poems, videos, and many other artworks, and they are currently running a giveaway). I had been looking forward to the event, and decided not to miss it for anything, because I am generally a boring person who likes to keep to herself. I recently decided to change this aspect of my life, and socialise more, so far I don’t have to be buying aso ebi and go to weddings. I am not a fan of that at all.

So on Saturday, jumoke hits me up on BBM, and the conversation goes this way…

Jumoke: Hi dear

Me: Hey Wasup?

Jumoke: So I need to confirm if you are coming on Monday and what you would be bringing and who you might bring with you, etc.

Me: I’m not bringing anyone. I might bring bananas, biscuits, or groundnut.

Jumoke: Ok. Biscuits please.

Me: Hmm. You k now I’m into healthy eating, so biscuits were actually my last option (devil smiley). Can’t I bring garden egg and broccoli?


Me: (ROTFL smiley) Ok. Cauliflower nko? We need to eat healthy.

Lamide: Atilola this is Lamide (boxing smiley)

Apparent, Jumoke had given the phone to Lamide, her sister, to talk sense into my head.

Me: You pipu want to be eating marshmallows? And be getting fat? Lamide

Lamide: No try am o

Me: I thought you said you want to lose weight

Lamide: Ehn not in one day

Me: I’m helping you achieve your dreams na. You should be thanking me.

Lamide: Monday is a day cheat o

Me: (devil smiley, mischief smiley)

Lamide: No try am
Me: Ok then, let me bring agbo jedi to balance out the sugar. As you don’t want to accept my fruits and vegetables

Long silence

Jumoke: Back to Jumoke. Erm see I don’t mind biscuits. I’m not even picky, even crackers are fine. But hob nobs are better, and chocolate chip cookies. (grinning smiley)

Me: No! Digestive biscuit. It is whole meal, so it is healthy (ROTFL smiley). No chocolate o (Tongue out smiley)

Jumoke: Digestive ke? You don’t plan on eating rice ba? Or chicken?

Me: I am eating rice o. I am not on a diet.

See, my issue with these two ladies is that they always talk about how they want to lose weight. Lamide is very slim, while Jumoke is slightly bigger. They both aren’t what you will call fat, though Jumoke is bigger.

As for me as a person, I’m not the kind of person that would buy cake and ice-cream or any other of those things for myself or to an event. I eat them once in a blue moon if I come across them, but I wouldn’t buy them. So why would I buy them to an event when they are

  • More expensive?
  • Less healthy?

I find ways to incorporate fruits and veggies into all my meals. I don’t joke with my fibre at all. The fact that I hardly eat out makes it easy for me. In fact as we speak, I am fully stock with banana, orange, potato, plantain, avocado, garden egg, carrot, etc. And trust me, I am not a diet. If I try dieting at all, I will just disappear in 5 minutes.

Left to me, I wanted to take banana, orange, or garden egg to that event, but I knew they would give me a BBM slap, so I met them half way to say, banana, groundnut, and biscuit. Abi, I no try, even though I don’t eat groundnuts because of acne? I also don’t take dairy products because they spike my sebum.

You might say that the event is not about me or what I want, but what others would enjoy, but remember that others will most likely be bringing all the sweet unhealthy stuff, so I am allowed to tilt the balance a bit, abi. Plus all these ladies always talk about how they want to lose weight.

So here is my grouse. I strongly believe 80% of the ladies at that event, including Lamide and Jumoke, always talk about how they want to lose weight, but when I offer them the way to achieve this dream of theirs, they turn around and throw my offer back in my face.

Abi did I do wrong?

Anyway, I will be taking biscuit to the event, and it will be whole meal digestive. I am doing it out of love, lol. They will thank me when they are 70 years old, and still competing with Usain Bolt.

Monday, March 30, 2015

When your own blood hates you

Hey people, wasup? How was Saturday for you? I hope you all went out to vote your conscience, and stayed out of trouble? Anyway, I trust you guys. My readers are wise and intelligent, just like me, lol.

I was thinking about something recently. Remember in this post, when I mentioned that in Brazil, people were asked to order poems from poets, and we were supposed to ‘cook’ the poem on the spot for the customers?

Well, the story of my first customer really touched me. She wanted me to write a poem for her daughter. Through the translator, she told me that her daughter detests and hates her for no just cause. She believes she is suffering from karma, as a result from something she has done in her past life.

They have never been close, and she hasn’t liked her since she was a child. She said that since the girl was small, she has continually done things to intentionally hurt her.

She went ahead to say that her marriage with her husband didn’t work out, and her daughter blamed her the more for this. According to her, she and her daughter were both mean to each other in the past, but she doesn’t want that anymore.

She said her daughter is now in her early twenties or late teens (can’t remember which), but she wants to make peace with her. She wants me to write a poem to tell her daughter she loves her, and doesn’t want to fight anymore.

You could see on the woman’s face that she was really hurting. It was really moving. Since the daughter wasn’t there to tell her own part of the story, I had to rely on just the woman’s version to cook the poem. The poem was for the daughter. I really hope the daughter would like the poem sha because she sounds hard and mean, according to the mother’s story, and I had about 5 to 15 minutes to deliver. I am actually writing this post because a copy of the poem fell out of my laptop bag.

By the time the translator and I read it to her, she was just crying and hugging me. When it was all over, it was surprising to see that she was still hanging around. She came to meet me, and kept pecking me, speaking Portuguese, which I didn’t understand a word of, while I kept telling her ‘I don’t know what you are saying’, lol. She even went to search for me on facebook, added me, and sends me occasional messages which I have to use google translate to understand, lol.

So what do you think? How do you pursue a path of peace with someone who detests you, especially your own daughter – someone you brought to this world? I know there are so many people in this situation, and they constantly hurt from the fact that someone who they love so much hates them, like father hates son, son hates father, etc.

What do you do? That's all I am asking.

Monday, March 23, 2015

The freedom of Anonymous Bloggers

When I set up my blogger account, and started blogging, I never knew there was anything like anonymous blogging. It wasn’t until I became active in blogsville that I noticed some bloggers had no identity. By then, it was already too late for me.

I feel like anonymous bloggers are so fortunate. I like ranting and letting out through my blog, but the fact that I am not anonymous means there is a limit to what I can say. Everyone knows my blog, so I can’t afford to give people undue access into my personal life, just by reading my blog, a mistake I made a couple of years ago. I mean, I can meet a distant relation I have not seen or talked to in over 10 years saying, “there was this personal article you wrote two years ago, it really touched me.” Haa, wahala.

Being an open identity blogger means you have automatic monitoring spirits on your case. So you might need to go to MFM prayer city for monthly spiritual check. Exes, stalkers, enemies, frenemies, families, friends, and even your parents will be using your blog to keep tab on you.

That is how last week, I was frying egg. My mum saw me, and said “you have started eating egg?”
I looked at her with a bewildered face, saying “why won’t I eat egg? Isn’t egg healthy? I never stopped eating egg.”

Then she goes “Didn’t you write about how eggs were affecting you on your blog some time ago?”
“That’s because I overdosed on eggs, aargh!”

You see what I mean by monitoring spirits? A post of over two years ago! You can read it here.

This is the reason why I am baffled at anonymous bloggers like Naija Bachelor who are eager to come out of the closet. It’s as if they just want to give up all that freedom I envy for nothing. All they get is a month or so of blogsville hailing, and when the mystery fades and dusts settles, they might wish again that they were anonymous.

Note please. If you are anonymous, that doesn’t mean you should say all the nonsense in this world. There are so many anonymouses whose covers have been blown. I personally know a couple of anonymous bloggers because they considered me worthy enough to reveal themselves to me, in person. So we don’t want to read your escapades about how you regularly cheat on your wife or husband, or colourful details of how many married men you have slept with. That kind of thing usually comes back to bite in the butt. You can read more about that here.

As for those who call themselves semi-anonymous like Toinlicious and Cherrywine, una jus dey deceive yaselves. You are either anonymous or not. *ducks blows*

And lastly, for anonymous commenters who hide their identities just to spew insulting and hate comments on people’s blogs, well, if you are not a coward, why don’t you comment using your real identity. Remember that you will sow what you reap, even if you repent in blogsville church and become born again!

Monday, March 16, 2015

Frank Talk about Mother’s Day craze

Warning: You are likely going to stone my blog page after reading this article, thereby damaging your screen, causing you to hate me for the loss you used your hands to incur. So beware before going ahead to read.

Firstly, let me burst your bubble by saying yesterday, 16th March, 2015, was not Mother's Day. I'm really sorry to break the news this way, but truth is sometimes bitter. Yesterday was Mothering Sunday, celebrated by Catholics in UK and Ireland, not Mother's Day. Anyway, moving on...

I got home from church yesterday, and proceeded to the kitchen to fix a meal for myself. While dicing the carrots, my mother came to the kitchen and said jokingly. “You did not even wish me happy mother’s day.”

I said “Ehen.” In my mind, I was like “you too?” lol. So I said “okay oooo, happy mother’s day.”
I was surprised because I have never said happy mother’s day to my mum. Please, don’t stone me, I promise you, I don’t hate my mum. It’s just that we were not raised with the mother’s day consciousness in my family, thereby causing my surprise.

I am therefore going ahead to blame the whole thing on social media. Lol. Yes, while some people blame Goodluck Jonathan for everything, including the fact that they accidentally cut their thumb in the kitchen, I blame social media for everything.

Ever since social media blew up, during every mother’s day, everyone puts up DP about how their mothers are the best in the world. Mother’s day is now more celebrated than in the past, such that my non-mothers-day-celebrating mother has now bitten the bug.

Back to the conversation. My mother now goes

“Or didn’t you celebrate mother’s day in your church?”

I said “I don’t know, I was with the teenagers all through.” This was not exactly true because I entered the main church briefly, and they asked all women to stand up in church, and sang ‘sweet mother’ for them. Also, in teens church, they asked every female to stand up, and we clapped for them.

“You are even supposed to buy me a gift to celebrate mother’s day.” she continued.

“Really? But you don’t buy me gifts on children’s day.” I said. “Am, I not a child to you? All these mother’s day and all other days are just holidays.” I said, making no sense, but wanting to cover my inadequacies as an inconsiderate daughter.

“But you used to get holidays every children’s day.” she said.

I just looked at her, and said to myself, “see, you don’t get the message. Were you the one giving me the holidays? And really, I meant you don’t give me gifts every children’s day, so why the guilt trip?”

There are just some people who can never be sent on a guilt trip, no matter how hard you try, and I am one of them.

Now, contrary to what you might be thinking, I love my mum. She is really cool, lol. She is so cool that she freezes the sun (no one should steal my punchline, abeg). So let’s get that out of the way. She buys me things, I buy her things – well sometimes. I was just so surprised that the whole social media mother’s day thing got to her.

My mum reads my blog posts. I hope I don’t get into trouble when she reads this one. She might just send me packing, lol. The woman has really tried sha. Having a frank-talk writer, poet and spoken word artist as a daughter is really a burden no mother should bear, lol.

Now in Nigeria, we just like to follow trends blindly. Did you guys notice that last year, when mother’s day was celebrated twice, some people started getting confused, saying “didn’t we celebrate mother’s day few weeks ago?” Well, that is because different countries celebrate mother’s day on different days. Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, United Kingdom, and Nigeria celebrate it fourth Sunday in the lent seasons, and it is called Mothering Sunday. The real Mother’s day, is on 2nd Sunday in May, which more than 60% of the world’s countries, including United States. This is why most times, since we like do follow follow, we celebrate it twice in Nigeria. First we do it with the Catholics because of Social Media following, and then we later do it with the United States. (You can read more about Mothering Sunday and Mother's Day - Google is your friend). Readers are leaders of information and knowledge!

Fact: Do you know that the founder of mother’s day, Anna Jarvis, later in her life started protesting the celebration of mother’s day, becoming a major opponent because she felt it had been commercialised? In fact, she spent all her inheritance and the rest of her life fighting the celebration till she died.

Another thing, how come on mother’s day, everyone’s mother now becomes the best mother. Doesn’t that contradict the meaning of the word ‘best’, seeing that there can be only one ‘best’? Therefore, if everyone’s mother is best, it means no one’s mother is really the best.

Lastly I leave you with this meme I truly love, but did not create. Believe me, I didn’t write it. It goes something like

If everyone’s mother is the best, then who are the witches always flying at night, and doing bad things to other people?

I guess their kids are also out there telling us how their mum is the best mum in the world.

If you made it to the end of this post without breaking your screen, congratulations. But promise me you would not slap me when next you see me in person.

With that said, happy mother’s day Mothering Sunday to all the beautiful mothers and mothers to be out there. And that’s excluding the witches. *Ducks jazz*

Monday, March 9, 2015

So this still happens on roads

I was going to vigil last Friday night. I decided to follow someone because I had a busy weekend ahead, and I wasn’t sure I was going to get fuel, due to the current fuel scarcity. So I just wised up, and started saving my fuel. Funny enough, I later walked past the filling station, and there was no queue.

Anyway, so I left my house by 8.30 pm to walk all the way to my friend’s house, so we could go for the vigil together. I hate bus and bikes and I like to walk, so even though it was a very long walk, I decided to trek. I am a very fast walker and it took me 30 minutes to walk, so it would take a normal healthy person one hour to make the journey by trekking.

Anyway, after the first 10 minutes, some guy steps up to me. I had earphones on, listening to switchfoot, so I didn’t notice his presence. It was not until he got close to me that it occurred to me that this guy was trying to get my attention.

Seeing that it is a small world, and I am a nice girl, I removed my earphones to listen to what he was trying to say to me, in case he was trying to tell me that he recognised me from somewhere.

“Yes?” I started.

“Hi, I just want to talk to you and get to know you.” He said.

I put the earphones back on.

End of conversation.

I kept walk, ignoring the guy. I told myself he would soon leave me and turn back, seeing that the journey was still very long for me. I kept saying to myself “so guys still approach girls on the road in this day and age of modern technology.” I thought all the first timer toasting had graduated to facebook, twitter, whatsapp, etc. I was really shocked. I mean, I can’t remember when last I have made a journey by trekking since I started working from home a couple of years ago. And the time I tried it now, this happens.

Anyway, the guy didn’t do what I thought he would do. He just kept following me. Sometime, I would think he isn’t there, and 5 seconds later, he is right by my side. I wondered what kind of wahala this is. It wasn’t like I was spectacularly dressed. I was wearing a normal loose-fitting top and baggy harem dropcrotch pants. I tied a black scarf, flat sandals, and slung an old messenger bad in a diagonal fashion. That is to say, I was looking very ordinary! Yet this guy kept following.

After a while, I became irritated. I removed my earphones, and asked him to stop following me. All he could say was.

“I just want to get to know you. I can see you are walking very fast. You must be in a hurry.”

I put the earphones back on.

End of conversation.

And so, this guy kept following me. He walked with me through major roads and minor roads. I increased my pace, crossed the roads, passed through expressways, passed through dark corners, yet he never relented.

One time, he brushed my shoulder with his. I screamed “what’s all these?”

“Sorry, sorry, I just want to know you.” He said.

I put the earphones back on.

End of conversation.

Finally and gratefully, I got the gate of my friend’s street, which was manned by security guards. I spoke to the guards and mentioned who I wanted to see. The guy finally left me and walked away.
Maybe he thought I was approaching my house, and reporting him to the security guards. Or maybe he thought he had made headway by finally knowing my street, so he could hang around from time to time to look for me, lol. As for me, I was happy to be finally rid of the unwelcome companion.

I know I look far younger than my age, but I thought all these things happened in those days when I was 14 to 18 years old. I can’t imagine that guys still waste their time and sweat following ladies on the road. That is joblessness of the highest order, and oh so outdated.

Monday, March 2, 2015

“My name is Atilola, and I am not a thief!”

I believe this is going to be my most honest and vulnerable article ever. It is raw, no-holds-barred, and I will be mentioning names, real names of everyone involved.

It happened when I was in JSS3, I was 10 years old. It was on a Saturday morning in boarding school, Lagos State Model College, Badore. I think it was after our morning cleanups, when we were supposed to be rushing out of the hostel immediately after inspection, to go for breakfast, and then, afternoon prep. I rushed to the box room to change from my white wear to cheque, or maybe to the pick something from my box, which I did not lock. On entering there, I saw Onyinye Ilechukwu rush out, which meant she also went to quickly take something from or put something in her box. Upon locating my box, I encountered a big problem.

 It was locked!

It was my box alright, but it was locked with someone else’s padlock. I wondered why someone would lock my box. Whatever I wanted to pick was really valuable to me, and I felt since it was my box, I had the right to jack the padlock and throw it away. But it wasn’t those black padlocks you could simply jack. It was those side-shifting coloured ones. Anyway, I didn’t give up as the prefects were announcing “5 minutes more, 4 minutes more…”

Someone (I can’t remember who) came to the box room to get something from her own box, and saw me jacking the padlock. I said to the person “Can you imagine? Someone locked my box.” We discussed a bit, she left, and I continued try to jack. Seeing the futility of the situation, I left the hostel like that, as they were going to lock me in.

I got back to the hostel at about 4 or 5 pm, when suddenly people started shouting my name. I was confused. I was not like a superstar. Suddenly, someone dragged me, placed my box, which was now opened on my head. They were saying things like “Thief, Ole, etc.” they paraded me round all the female hostels, pushing me, singing thieves songs popular in boarding school.

There were fingers pointing, sneering jeering, staring, laughing booing, sniggering and snickering. The more I tried to explain that I had not stolen anything, the more they hit and pushed me around. My life was over. Things like this happen to other people, real thieves, not me.

They took me to Mrs Hamzat, the house mistress. I told her I didn’t steal anything. They had found Onyinye Ilechukwu’s ribena and other provisions in my box, locked. The girl who had seen me jacking my box (if only I could remember her name) had told everyone that she saw me jacking someone’s box, and I was trying to steal. I explained the whole thing to the house mistress, who did not believe me. I wondered why no one asked Onyinye how her padlock got to my own box. Would I jack her box, and then use her padlock to lock mine?

That night, Senior Kofo Allison, who was in SSS3, and had repeated a class, and largely seen as an olodo, always trying to feel cool with herself as one of the happening seniors, called me. She started acting like she was on my side. She first of all said I should confess, tell her the truth. I stuck to my story. She said things like I would be disgraced, etc. She said if I said I did it, she would make it go away, it would die down, etc. She did not allow me leave, basically bullied/cajoled me into writing a statement that I stole the items.

I had joined the choir about a month earlier. The next morning, in the dining hall, the choir mistress, who was also the food prefect, Senior Kemi Ogunbiyi came to my table, and whispered to me that I should stand on the table, so they could announce me as a thief in front of the whole school, as was the tradition. It was one thing for me to be labelled a thief in the girls’ hostels, but in front of the whole school? For a crime I didn’t commit? I started begging her saying “Senior Kemi please, senior Kemi please.” She kept insisting that I should stand up. The boys at the table were confused, but were more interested in eating up their food. I just kept begging, as the tears streamed down my face. My life would be over. After a while, she looked at me, and let me be. Needless to say, I was expelled from the choir. Mrs Hamzat (armed with the statement Kofo Allison bullied me to write) said I should bring my mum with me when I was resuming the next term.

Till today, no one ever asked me for my side of the story. I had been publicly labelled thief, so thief, I must be. I explained what really happened to my friends, that Onyinye (whose parents were always bringing her nice provisions) in a haste got to the box room, unlocked her box, but unzipped mine instead, threw her provisions in my own box, locked it, and rushed out. Or how else did her provisions and padlock end up in my box. So yes, I experienced jungle justice, only that I wasn't set on fire.

That Christmas holiday, I carried the heavy weight around. About few days to resumption, I told my mum everything, knowing I couldn’t return to school otherwise. I left out the fact that I had a written confession to the crime.

My mum did not even flinch as I told her about the incident. She just asked one thing. “Did you do it?” to which I responded “No.”

We went back to school the next term, and my mum went to see Mrs Hamzat. I told Mrs Hamzat I did not do it, and she said I was lying. She brought the statement out, and showed my mum. I was heartbroken. I’m sure my mum was confused. Anyway, my mum paid for seven times of all the items I allegedly stole, according to the rules of the school.

The reason I feel my mum believed me is because she never punished me. My mum is one of the strictest parents Nigerian families could ever have. She would beat your life out for every sin committed, and the one you would commit in future. In this case, she never punished me, and has never mentioned the event till date. I actually think she has forgotten about the incident.

When I finished JSS3, I left the school for another school, a day school this time. I never wanted to leave, but my parents basically uprooted me, lol. Ironically, I really liked that school, and I was just about to start my senior years, which was supposed to be the fun years of boarding school.

I saw Onyinye Ilechukwu twice after then. She was a year behind me, and had also left to a day school. For two consecutive years, we met at cowbell mathematics competition, where schools picked their best 2 math students in the senior and junior categories to write the test. She represented her school, and I represented mine. On both occasions, we stayed to talk like real old friends, but I don’t know if she remembered the incident.

Sometime in SSS3, when my mum was out of the country, after school, I took a bus all the way to Lagos State Model College Badore. This time, I was 14 years old, and I had one goal in mind. I looked for Mrs Hamzat, and asked her if she remembered the incident over three years ago. She seemed to remember a bit. Then I started.

“Excuse me ma, I did not steal those items. Senior Kofo Allison forced me to write that statement.”
This time, she was more receptive to me, maybe because I had come a long way to clear my name. She said I should not worry, that it was not a problem.

I asked her to find my statement and tear it up because I don’t want someone coming out in future to publicly declare me a thief because of a crime I did not commit. She said all the records and statements of student crimes had been destroyed, so I shouldn’t bother my head. She asked me to put it all behind, and live my life. She seemed earnest enough, so I believed her, and thanked her.

Even as at then, I knew that in future, I would become well-known in some circles, and I didn’t want this kind of thing coming to stain me.

The sad part is that since I was publicly disgraced in front of all the girls (it was not a small school) there are some people with sharp memories like mine, who would forever remember, statement or no statement.

If in future, any one should come with some false allegations against me, then I would willingly direct them to this post where I stated that…

“My name is Atilola Moronfolu, and I am not a thief!”

Monday, February 23, 2015

The Stupidity and Foolishness of Social Media

I’m finding it really hard to understand the nonsense going on around social media now, especially Instagram, as many people complain. The nudity, endless pouting, pushing out of hips, look-at-the-ground pose, like you are looking for a lost coin, endless pictures of oneself on the internet is just appalling. I don’t have an Instagram account, so thankfully I have been spared from all these, but I hear endless complaints about this every day.

Some people might ask me why I am beefing. Is it them that sent me message not to like dressing up and taking pictures, not to know how to take a selfie. I am sorry o, I am not beefing. I am only saying I don’t understand, so if you are one of these people or you know them, please seat me down, and explain to me.

Why are people getting so narcissistic? Are they using it to oppress people? Are they using it to validate themselves? Or are they using it to seek validation from people? Why can’t we validate ourselves in the middle of our rooms? Why do we need social media to validate ourselves?

Gone are the days when the in-thing was to post graduation pictures from Stanford, imperial college, Harvard, and the likes to earn admiration of people.

Now the trend is wear fine cloth, suck stomach in, push non-existent hips out, turn face sideways/look to the ground, pout, snap 100 pics, choose the finest one (or the only fine one), edit it a bit, and post. Why, why, why?

I once had one guy who claimed to like me, disturbing me with talks of how he must marry me. I went to his facebook page to find a little more about him, cos we were not really close in unilag days. I followed his IG app on his facebook page, and saw the kinds of pictures he was liking. They were all Nigerian girls, but my jaw dropped. I was DISGUSTED. Girls with heavily endowed booty and boobs will wear the tightest things, and then turn the backside to the camera. “Why do you want the whole world to see your backside?” Please, someone should explain. And then this guy will enter comments like “nice arse” and the girls will reply “thanks.” "Someone wake me up, I have fainted." I felt like puking. I thanked God then that I didn’t have an IG account.

Anyway, since this guy threatened me that he will marry me, I just jejely reported myself to my pastor saying “If I should ever bring a guy called xxx to you as a fiancée, never ever let me go through with the wedding.” Yes, I did that. I don’t joke with accountability. When guys like that threaten that they must get a girl, there’s no extent they won’t go to, including forming MFM stunts that they’ve repented.

I know a chronic womaniser on facebook who has children from multiple women. Till now, he does not take care of his kids or bear their financial burden. Anyway, he finally gets married to a woman who was not any of his baby mamas. His wife puts up a picture of her and hubby, and someone (most likely from the woman’s family, since I know everyone in the man’s family) puts up a comment saying “I just love this family.” I told my sister about it, and we were like “ehn ehn, so this is how people see pictures on the internet, and will be envying, not knowing what they are envying.” This is how people deceive people on the internet.

Now as for the celebrities flaunting wealth on the internet, as in raw cash and latest cars, I think that is the height of immaturity. I don’t know if because many of them just made such amount of money for the first time, or because they want to oppress their rivals. I honestly don’t know the reason, but it is completely crap. I read that some of them said they do it because they want to inspire others to work hard and be wealthy like them. Imagine! Someone that has not organised a seminar to help the creative industry in Nigeria or the world, or given a single music scholarship out is talking about inspiring. Issorait.

If you are one of the people oppressed by any of the categories mentioned or not mentioned in this post, well, let me tell you that respite has come. There is no need to feel bad or be oppressed, because 99% of the time, everything is a LIE!

Anyway, whether it is the nudity on Instagram, the endless selfies and pouting and posing on Instagram, the lies about how our lives are perfect on facebook, flaunting of cash, cars, and champagne, we must all agree that there’s a menace, and we can no longer shut our eyes, pretending that it is not happening.

I am not sure there’s anything we can do about it than to keep talking about it till the guilty parties know that it is not okay to flaunt boobs, cash, latest clothes, and all sorts on social media. That way, maybe the menace will reduce, and it won’t be cool anymore. Or maybe I am just indulging in wishful thinking because I am not sure I see it getting better.

I just pity the next generation, to whom all these things might seem normal. Sometimes, I am just glad I will be dying in the next 60 to 70 years, because I am not sure how much more of this nonsense I can take without saying “Can somebody just kill me now?”

Monday, February 16, 2015

My Experience at the White House

So I went to the white house…

When my cousins first told me I could just walk up to the white house, I found it hard to believe. I mean, I have never heard of people just walking up to Aso Rock in Abuja. I might be wrong o, but I have never heard of it.

My uncle continually used the trip to white house to tease me, so when my cousin asked me if I wanted to go to the white house since we were going to drop a family friend at Howard University, I instantly said yes.
It was quite inconvenient because we had to leave our car somewhere, and take a train in the winter, and I had just recovered from a 2-day illness which I never told anyone about, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

So off we went to the white house, we took some pictures and left. I don’t think we spent more than 10 minutes there.

There were just two policemen in front of the house, gisting away, where we were taking pictures. That is all. There were a few other tourists taking pictures, and I was wondering aloud how the place will always be crowded during summer. How many security men, guns, and bomb detectors would we encounter just because we want to get to the front of Aso rock, even before the era of boko haram? But we know the country that is more secure. It’s really not about the gra gra or the showmanship.

In my mind, I was like so this is the white house, the one I always see on TV, in movies, the one and only famous white house. It looked so ordinary, just like a regular house in the neighbourhood, though peeping into the compound, you could see that it runs deeper inside. But from the front view, it was one of the smallest around, and not imposing at all.

As I walked away, I told myself that the next time I visit white house, I will be going inside, and it won't be as a tourist.

Anyway, so that’s all I have to say for now. I went to the white house, and even though it was a surreal experience, it wasn’t that much of a big deal. Very ordinary, no intimidation, no security men, just a regular house from the outside.

Dwight Eisenhower Building, just beside the white house

The White House

I tried to sneakily snap the police men, but I remembered what Nigerian policemen do to our phones when the see us do this, so I quickly kept my phone, after one crappy shot.

Trying to stay sane in the cold, while taking a selfie

Flag flying high

I was forming smile, while my brain was freezing up, lol

Monday, February 9, 2015

When I used to be Brilliant

All through primary school, I was the most brilliant in my class. As in seriously, I was really really brilliant, such that I didn’t know how brilliant I was, lol. And here are the two reasons.

Even though I was extremely brilliant, I never came first in class. The reason is I went to one of those primary schools that never gave class positions. I don’t know their reason, but they never did.

Secondly, as we might all know, there’s an unwritten rule that the most brilliant student always became class captain, and wrote down the names of noise makers. As for me, all through my years in primary school, I was never made class captain. Never! I was the chief noise maker, and as I progressed from class to class, all teachers nicknamed me parrot. My name was always (I mean ALWAYS) on the list of noise makers.

Sometimes, I even determined that “today, my name will not be on the list of noise makers.” And I will try my best to keep quiet, but one way or the other, I always ended up there, and got punished.

Every time it was period to vote or choose class captain, either by student election or teacher appointment, I eagerly waited to be named, after all, there’s an unwritten rule that the brilliant ones should lead, but time after time, my hopes were dashed.

I remember one time in primary 4, when they called all the brilliant ones out, and a miracle happened, I finally became the assistant class captain, having the second highest vote. I was so elated, but my position did not last more than a day or two because I made too much noise, but at least, I had the privilege to write down the names of noise makers for 2 days, and beat my fellow classmates with ruler if I saw their eye open during the period they are supposed to rest their heads on the desk, and sleep. Lol.

Another reason I wasn’t class captain, I suspect, was that I wasn’t one of the neatest. It was the days of rubber sandals, and my socks always found a way to get lost before the end of the term, and my rubber sandals would cut. Also, I had 2 uniforms, which I wore all through the week, and washed weekends. In my family, once you misplace your socks, and cut your sandals, you are on your own till the end of the term. My mum was mega strict, lol.

So picture this short girl on gorimapa (my mum used to skin my head with blade and comb), with dirty uniform, no socks, and tattered rubber sandals. To cap it all up, she is a talkative whose loud voice disturbs the whole class. Is that who you really want to be the class captain? The guy who was class captain most times was one guy, Feyisayo, from a rich home, handsome, and just a bit brilliant. Imagine, corruption have started from primary school, because people always said the reason he became class captain is because he’s from a rich home.

Anyway, back to the subject of brilliancy. I used to get between 98 and 100 over 100 in most subjects. I was so brilliant that my mum thought I was one genius from out of space. I mean, the gap I gave the person next to me couldn’t have been measured. I wasn’t even aware of how brilliant I was until sometime in senior secondary school, when I looked at my primary school report sheets. By the age of 8, I was already in secondary school, and out by the age of 14.

Anyway, by now, you should figure out that there is no point to this article. I am just writing it to let you all know that in primary school, I was a genius, but I was never named first position, or made class captain. How sad?

Monday, February 2, 2015

Motivational Speakers or Motivational Fraudsters?

I am very angry with some set of fraudulent people out there. This post is strictly my opinion, so you don't have to agree with me. My paragraphs are not well structured, so please pardon me. I will be using the word Motivational Speaker and Life Coach interchangeably. In the context of this post, they mean the same thing.

I get put off when I see BCs or invitations to a seminar by one roadside ‘life coach’ or ‘motivational speaker’. They have risen, in pathetic numbers, from left, right, and centre. It is as if they said to themselves “Oh, wow. Look at Fela Durotoye. He’s a motivational speaker and a life coach. He gets paid billions to talk. He is so rich. I can talk too. I was the noise maker of my class, my name was always on the list of noise makers, but I have the added advantage of being brilliant. I will be the next Fela Durotoye.” And then, they print Business Cards – Atilola Moronfolu, Life Coach (Or motivational speaker – whichever sounds nicer with their names).

I don’t know what reaction to give when I see my friend, who I know is broke, cannot pay rent, doesn’t have a car, in short, hasn’t gone through any process, or really achieved anything for himself telling me to come for a conference because he is a Life coach. What in the world are you going to coach me about? How to run my business? Or how to get maximum output from my staff? If you were that knowledgeable, why hasn’t it worked for you? The same book you are reading all these theories from, I have access to them too. Are you really trying to coach me, or you are just desperate for that N2,500 gate fee?

Many people are guilty of this – fresh graduates, people looking for jobs, people looking for side gigs. They just feel life coach/motivational speaker is easy money because they can talk.

You don’t need to look too far to find them. They are everywhere. Their full time job is ‘life coach’ and ‘motivational speaker’. They do nothing else, they have no other job or business. They send endless broadcasts about one seminar or the other. They tell you about how they have one more solution or package for you. They sign you up for their newsletters, and bug your email with it weekly. They always have one special gift just for you, but you have to watch one video or the other to access it. They have fancy names. They organize twitter conversation all the time.

From what I understand, a coach is a counsellor. They look at where you are now, and where you desire to be at a certain period, and help you get there. They walk with you very closely. In developed countries, you even become certified to be a life coach. The word ‘life coach’ is not what we should be throwing around carelessly like “My name is Atilola, I am a life coach. This is my husband, he is a life coach. Did I tell you I am three months pregnant? And yeah, my baby will grow up to be a life coach too. Even the nanny that will raise him is a life coach.” just because we are looking for an easy source of income.

Now Fela Durotoye… let’s talk about that man a bit. The first time I heard him speak was years ago in University of Lagos. Even as at then, this man was a bundle of experiences. In summary, this guy worked, went through some things, learnt some lessons, made some sacrifices, saw some rewards, became a motivational speaker, and that’s putting it as simply as possible.

These motivational fraudsters have found a way to flip the coin. In the past people used to gather real life experiences first (mostly from working with several clients, as consultants) and then become teachers, speakers and coaches. But nowadays, people want to become speakers, teachers, and coaches first, and then maybe or maybe not gather life experience. Plainly putting it, they are doing it just for the money, and not because they have anything fantastic to teach or speak about. Maybe I should not blame them too much. It is the situation of the country right? We all want to fend for ourselves.

You want to teach me about purpose? Have you fulfilled purpose yourself? Life is not all about theories, so before you organise your seminars, make sure you have your practical real life experiences to back up the theoretical crap you are spewing. If the ‘seven laws of financial freedom’ or ‘five steps to living a happy life’ you want to sell to me are so magical, how come it has not performed any magic in your life? Why aren’t you so free yourself, why are you waiting for that gate fee you want to charge me?

If someone like Jumoke Adenowo invites me to a seminar, I wouldn’t think twice about going. She is a mother, a wife, a prophetess, a leading architect in Nigeria (designed federal ministry of Finance at the age of 23), featured on CNN, organizes the annual women’s prayer summit, the head of the ministry, Awesome Treasures Foundation, broke a long-term record when she graduated from OAU, and so much more this post wouldn’t be able to contain. When she stands on stage to talk, you keep quiet because you know for a fact that someone is talking. Now, this is someone who can be called a life coach, someone that will show you the valleys and mountains, not one fresh graduate or jobless youth looking for the easiest source of income.

Let’s stop the menace. First, everyone jumped on the bandwagon of cake-baking, then party-catering, events-planning, makeup artistry. Now it is the turn of ‘Life Coach’ and ‘Motivational Speaker’ to take the bandwagon hit.

If you aspire to be a life coach, motivational speaker, purpose teacher, or whatever fancy words are being thrown out there, kudos to you. There is a proper way to go about it. Please and please get some real life experiences up your sleeve, so you can have something to actually speak to me about, before telling me you want to come to your seminar with a gate fee of N2000, N10,000, or N20,000, depending on how sophisticated your level of begging is.

Monday, January 26, 2015

Seven Days in Brazil - Day 7

Day 7 consisted of part of my 28 hour journey back to Nigeria.

I woke up, had breakfast, and jetted out to the airport. If not for a fellow festival-attendee who rode with me to the airport, I for don loss. This is because I didn't depart from the same airport I came through. Who books flight that way?

Since I don't take pictures of airports, we are going to leave out my experience at the three airports back, and just say goodbye the way I said goodbye to Brazil.

Rio de Janerio is a really beautiful city, and it is even more beautiful when seen in an aerial view. As I said in the previous post, it is a city inside the river, so check these pictures below out, as I sign out of this series.

If you missed any post series, click here, and have your eyes opened. I promise you will thank me, even if you have been to Brazil before.

A big thank you to everyone who followed my Brazilian experience, by reading this blog series. You are all darlings. *Muah*

As a  bonus, I have embedded the video of my first performance at the slam. I presented six times. The one below was the first one in the first round.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Seven Days in Brazil - Day 6

Day 6 was my final day of activity in Brazil. I was indoors throughout the morning. I decided that day would be my only opportunity to venture out on my own, and see parts of Rio de Janerio. With Flavia's description, I took the bull by the horns, and stepped out.

I walked to the main road, and took the subway to General Osorio. As I was descending down the subway, two men were walking ahead of me. Immediately they got underground, they quickly kissed each other. They then turned back, and saw me. I didn't know what to think of the whole thing, but it reeked of serious guilt.. It was the first time I had ever seen two men kiss in real life. I was really taken aback.

I bought my ticket, and waited for the train

Waiting for the train to arrive

Train finally gets here

The two gay men are somewhere in this picture, on
the train, but I won't point them out, lol.
Click below to follow me to the market square and the beach. 

Monday, January 12, 2015

Seven Days in Brazil - Day 5 (Part 2)

I quickly rushed to the hotel, and did a little rehearsal for the semifinal. And so, we proceeded to the festival site.

Remember, I was currently holding the highest score among all contestants, of 89.9/90. Unfortunately, all scores were dropped, and I wasn't even aware of it.

Unfortunately, after this round of three performances, two people made it to the final, and I wasn't one of them. I was so shocked to find out that our previous scores were dropped, but I guess it was just part of life. My fun time in Brazil was just starting.

Don't go. Click below to have more fun with me.

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