Remember your first

 

They say, “you always remember your first”.

This has been proved true times without number. I have encountered firsts, both good and bad, that I remember to this day that make some other firsts seem like child’s play.

However, there are firsts and there are firsts!

This was a first! This colorful first, was soaked into the neurons responsible for long term memory and will stay with me for a long time to come.

If I remember correctly, I was about twelve or thirteen at the time and actively crushing on Ugo’s younger brother. I had memorized his routine (think Marinette from Miraculous) and would run to either the window in my room, the swings on the front lawn or, if available attempt to strike a nonchalant but elegant pose on my parent’s car (imagine attempting to do this after running down a flight of stairs? The struggle was real mehn) to gaze upon him in all his light complexioned, hungry looking, gangly teen glory.

This was also the season I discovered mixed berry jam.

I could not seem to get enough of that oh so delicious nectar. It wasn’t like I had never had jam before, weird. As a matter of fact, back in Degema some parent or older kid was always organizing an activity or exercise among which was jam making.

There was the time we learned to make various items with annoyingly tiny beads and finger poking wires, used elephant grass to weave baskets and bags, there was the butterscotch/coconut candy making and buying (mostly buying in my case), the kuli-kuli phase, the licking nnzu (native chalk) addiction (I think I was the only one I knew that was into this) and the waiting for agbalumor/udara from Nnamdi their village (it counts as an activity). There was also practicing for assorted performances with CRAB people/some education student group/a church and nursey people coming ever so often to give some vaccine or the other, ask us to close one eyes and read aloud then proceed to place a ruler over our heads to see how much we had grown (this made me think of the witch in Hansel and Gretel – they had to be fattening us up for something).

Then, there was jam making! Of all the fruits we turned to jam, guava, mango and pineapple were my top favorites.

So yes, I was familiar with jam. Yet, the way I went through jars of this one in particular was alarming. Like instead of me to go to the window and wait for Ugo’s brother to walk by, I would sneak into the pantry to look for an unopened container of mixed berry jam to replace the jar I had finished on my own then scurry up to catch a glimpse of his receding shadow.   

Mum usually went shopping once a month, twice if it was a full house. She brought items in bulk which normally lasted until the next shopping day. She was quite alarmed when she found out I had gone through about five medium jars of mixed berry jam in less than two weeks.

She removed the remaining jars from the pantry and warned that if I did not slow down with the jam consumption, the stuff was going to come out of my ears sooner than later.

Did it listen? Nope!

Soon after she gave this warning, I waited for her to leave for work and for my sister to go do whatever it was older sisters did when they are not watching their little sisters as they are supposed to be doing and dove into the jar of jam. This time, I was on an exploratory mission.

I was trying the jam with different things to see which it paired best with. I had tried it with cabin, homemade cookies, bread, yellow garri (not a good match), coaster biscuit (a no for me), left over pancake and was moving to try it with popcorn when my tummy started to ache.

My mum was still out, it was just me and my sister at home. Not wanting to admit I had been eating jam since morning and have her act all older, condescending and tell me how wrong I was, I went to the toilet with the idea that if I was able to evacuate my bowels, I would feel better.

This worked.

I pulled my pants on and washed my fingers (no, I was not washing my hands and singing “the birthday song at the time” - curse you CoVID!!). I had taken only a few steps towards where I hid my stash of “jam experiments” when I felt wetness in my underwear.

I stopped and thought to myself. Did I forget to wipe my bum? Was that poo? Why did it feel gooey? Rather than waste time wondering, I decided to go check it out. It was possible I sat on some jam and missed it. So, I turned around, went back to the toilet pulled down my panties and screamed!

I heard voices coming from outside, it sounded like it was coming from around my bedroom window. It was probably Ugo’s younger brother talking to my sister about basketball. He played basketball, she played basketball. It seemed everyone but me played basketball.

I. Did. Not. Care.

I was dying!  

Right there on my panties, looking like karma in a shade of I told-you-so maroon were clumps of mixed berry jam. My mum had warned me this would happen, but did I listen? No. Now here I was leaking jam.  

I was prepared for mixed berry jam to come out of my ears, just like I was prepared for the bubble gum that was going to glue my intestines together and the orange seed my uncle promised would take root in my tummy and grow out of my head.

This? This was different. My hands felt cold, I was shivering in fear. I was going to die, and I would not know what popcorn and jam tasted like.

I tried to plug the leak with a wad of tissue and clean the horrid jam from my panties, but it in the time it took to get a clean pair of underwear and return to the bathroom to wash the soiled one, the one I wore would be jam filled again.

It was relentless and continued to drip on.

I was running out of clean underwear and numb with fear. Not caring for the consequence anymore, I called for my sister, the sound that left my throat was a feeble whimper.  

So, this was how I was going to die? As a last resort, right there in the bathroom, I got on my knees and began to bargain with God. If the jam would stop leaking out of my bum, I would never again eat, lick, taste or even be in the same room as mixed berry jam.

Although it seemed like forever, I was in the bathroom for only about twenty minutes. My sister had noticed I was not at the usual “brother watching spots” and came to check in. as soon as she opened the door, I lunged into her, wrapped my arms around her waist and started proper bawling.

Through hiccups and ugly crying, I confessed I had been eating jam and narrated how mum had said it was going to come out through my ears, how it refused to come out of my ears and how it would not stop coming out of my bum.

Till today, I do not know how she was able to refrain from laughing out loud when she realized what had happened.

My first period.

To spare my young child from going through a similar experience, the day she noticed and asked about the crimson stain that spotted my clothes when I had an accident, I told her it was from my body trashing the special decorations it had put up to protect and feed a new baby.  Although her brother heard this and warned me to keep the waste from my expired decorations from his clothes and property, we all agreed that if decorations were there to protect and feed a possible baby in the tummy, then it was important to get rid of the bad decorations and have the body put up new decorations every month.

Do you remember your first period?

 

 

WHO IS NORMAL?

Foreword:
After spending most of the day conversing with the personified NEPA; striking deals and talking to myself. I considered the mad people roaming the streets and wondered if to them we were 'the insane'.
These musings brought to mind one of my favorite lectures from my 1st teacher. 
It’s a bit lengthy (approximately 1800 words) so if you are not one with the zeal for knowledge, kindly tune out, turn off and go play with your dollies. 

Congratulations! You are among the elite. Make an effort to read to the end. It promises to be worth the effort so sit back, relax and be educated…


Question 1: Who are you? Are you a normal person?
Question 2:**
Question 3: **

This brief lecture will share some ideas with us all. We shall in Part I look at the concepts of Restiveness and Youth restiveness, then we shall examine the word “normal” and discuss the problems associated with trying to establish who a normal person is and its implications for education. 
In Part II we shall look at “why children fail?” and conclude.

PART I

WHAT IS NORMAL?

The question what is normal is not so easily answered as you might think. The social sciences and psychiatry have never come up with a definition of “normal” which is satisfactory to everyone and at the same time allows clear – cut specification of normal behaviors. Indeed, we know much more about abnormal behavior, even if sometimes we have a difficult task in trying to separate the one from the other.
The word “normal” is derived from the Latin word “normalis” which means “made according to rule”. Hence, the English word “norm”… a rule or guideline. At least four definitions of normality have been proposed at various times by various people. Often, two or more of these definitions are combined in an informal way, thus compounding the confusion over the meaning of the term “normal”. The four definitions of normality are listed below.

1. Normality as health.
2. Normality as the ideal.
3. Normality as average.
4. Normality as ethnic or natural.
Let us take a brief look at each of these in turn

1. Normality as Health
One of the most popular models of normality is derived from the field of medicine. From this model comes such terms as “mental health” as its converse, “mental illness”.
Traditionally, this model has defined mental health (normality) as the absence of disease or illness. This is a negative definition. i.e. one is healthy if one is not sick. The 19th and early 20th century medicine saw health as a qualitatively different state from illness. The healthy body was qualitatively different form the diseased body. The analogy was carried over to “disease of the mind”, so that the mentally ill persons were seen as qualitatively different from mentally healthy persons. Advances in medical science in the 21st century have led to a more sophisticated view of health and disease, such that health is viewed as a relative rather than an absolute state. In other words, one is healthy if one is reasonably free of undue pain, discomfort of disability. This newer conception has been transferred to the field of mental health, thus increasing sophistication but decreasing clarity.

2. Normality as the ideal
The conception of the normal person as the ideal person was first promulgated by the psychologists, although now it is a notion held by sizeable proportion of social scientists and psychiatrists like Carl Rogers, Erich Fromm to name a few.
In this view, the normal person is seen as the optimally functioning individual. The normal person is one who is maximizing all the potentialities within himself (a notion Carl Rogers calls “self actualization”.
The conception of the normal person as the ideal person is rarely held alone. Rather, it is often combined with one of the other models of normality.

3. Normality as average
In this view, the normal person is one whose behavior is similar to that of the majority of his fellows. Strictly speaking, a deviation in either direction from the average or majority is defined as abnormal. In practice however, some kinds of “deviation” or “abnormality” are highly desirable. For example, the majority of people have an I. Q hovering around 100, a deviation of 40 points from this average should strictly speaking, be seen as abnormal. However, it is clear that most people do not view an I. Q of 140 in the same way they view an I. Q of say 60.
Thus, this model is rarely held in its purest form, but rather is contaminated by criteria outside of it, for example, social desirability even so, it is probably one of the most widely(if unconsciously) held models of normality.

4. Normality as ethnic or natural
In psychology and psychiatry this is a relatively recent conception; however, it has been held in one form or another since the beginning of recorded history, in this view the normal person is the individual who does the right thing or lives in accordance with human nature. One modern day proponent of this view is Herbert Mowrer, a prominent psychologist, whose point of view is that the normal person conforms to the current social morality (as internalized by his conscience) or he shows open nonconformity with social mores and is prepared to accept the consequences of his nonconformity.
A psychiatrist who holds a similar view is C. Jung who believes the abnormal person is one who has “problems in living”. The normal person on the other hand, knows the rules of the game of life and plays accordingly. He is aware of what it takes to lead the good life and is capable of following up this knowledge with action.

SOME DIFFICULTIES WITH THE MODELS OF NORMALITY

Even in the sketch presentation outline above, it should be clear that these models are not carefully thought out and represent only the barest prototypes of a good theory. Each model taken alone appears to be inadequate to account for the phenomena it attempts to explain. Thus, most people implicitly combine two or more of the models without clearly understanding what they are doing. It becomes extremely important then, for persons engaged in conversations where the word “normal” appears in reference to human beings, that the meaning of the term be specified as clearly as possible by all of the parties concerned. Chances are very good each of them is using the word “normal” in a different fashion from the others.
One of the primary reasons there is so much difficulty in this area is that there have been a few attempts to specify the observable behaviors which denote normality or its lack. For example, what does a “mentally healthy individual” do or not do, that is different form a “mentally ill” person? What types of behaviors does a “self – actualizing” person manifest?
The ambiguities inherent in all the models lead to numerous problems in the practical order, especially in the classroom. The ambiguities can be seen in the following illustrations:

Case I: Adeolu, a primary four pupil enjoys being alone, he is never aware of the feelings of the other children in the class. He has no friends; he is fond of spinning objects while outdoors and watching television silently indoors. Although very poor in speech behavior and communication, he is very good in music and mathematics. Is Adeolu a “normal” child?

Case II: Jambo a primary four pupil is always active and restless in the classroom. He could never be seated to listen; he always disturbs other children and made too much noise. In the class, he is the most difficult to control. Jambo’s concentration is low as his attention span is very short. As a result, his academic performance is poor. Is Jambo a “normal” child?

Case III: Mrs. Okoro, the primary six teacher scheduled a Mock First School Leaving Certificate examination for Friday morning, shortly after the examination was over, Ngozi, one of her bright pupils who was absent from the examination presents herself with the following explanation; she told her teacher Mrs. Okoro that she did not come for the examination because she becomes too anxious and panics stricken when taking examinations. She lamented that on the night before (Thursday), while revising her notes, she had several bouts of vomiting and dysentery. On her way to the examination hall, she broke into a cold sweat and her hands were trembling so much so that she was forced to go hide herself in the ladies. Kneeling before Mrs. Okoro, Ngozi is all in tears because she sees her aspiration to earn a First School Leaving Certificate seriously jeopardized by her fear of examinations. She begs Mrs. Okoro for “any help”. Is Ngozi a “normal” child?

Think about the above three cases for a bit.

Just who is normal anyway?


IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION

As can be seen from the above three cases, the teacher is constantly faced with the problem of defining for herself who is the “normal” child.
Is the fear of examination alone sufficient for the teacher to brand Ngozi, in Case III, a” non – normal” child? While the example of Adeolu (Case I) is a clear – cut case of autism, how many teachers are familiar with the typical symptoms of autistic behavior in children? In the case of Jambo, (Case II), many teachers are often tempted to dismiss Jambo as being “lazy” and “mischievous”. Is this a true characterization of this type of behavior?
Until there is a more acceptable definition of “normal”, the classroom teacher needs to be very conversant with disorders of childhood and adolescence before she can categorize a child as “normal” or “non – normal”. In the second part of this work, we shall argue that many children fail because the teachers fail to understand and properly address many behavioral abnormalities that impede and frustrate the “development” of the young, especially during the early stage of life...




Culled from YOUTH RESTIVENESS AND THE PROBLEM OF WHO IS NORMAL: IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION a lecture given by Prof J. D. Okoh. February, 2012

Prof. Joseph Donatus Okoh is a professor of Education and Fellow of Philosophy of Education Association of Nigeria (PEAN). His qualifications include:  

B. A., Philosophy of Religious Studies (Rome), B.SC., Psychology ( De- Pere, USA), M.A., Guidance and Counselling ( Rome). His M.Ed and Ph.D were obtained in Philosophy of Education at the University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada.

To go

On Saturday the 26th of October (best month in the year FYI) I attended a wedding!
Snugly nestled between my father and mother dearest, I realized 2hrs into the event that had been asleep for about all of the first hour.
Problem was not that I was unhappy, unexcited or sent from ‘the village’ its just that hearing 20 people say "I yam am" and "I doom do" one at a time over and over again gets boring after the 3rd round of ‘consents’.
Coupled with the fact that most of the service was in a language I do not speak or understand it became extremely hard to say “No!" and "Get thee behind me.” to the evil spirit coaxing my eyes shut.
After the service, I went for the reception.

It was there I fell in love.

Not with the groom as someone like me might assume (or the bride either!) but with the family receiving the new bride. From where I sat, I could feel love, understanding and unity as the groom’s siblings and kin scurried around looking all bothered, anxious but happy. Welcoming guest, offering hugs/smiles and making people generally feel at home. I wanted to be a part of that family!

Watching them in action brought strength to the saying that getting married is easy but staying married is the big deal.

The thing with weddings is that no matter what your reason for getting hitched is, after the initial badaboom-badabing it becomes a "do you?” "I do" and swearing to stick to your spouse for better or for worse, seven heads and all affair.
The old difference between the East and Western cultures was that while the Western worlds accepted disagreement and seperation between couples when the reason for doing so was justifiable the Eastern culture frowned upon it.
The rule then was that "unna talk say na for better and for worse, you dey run the together show abi? As yawa don gas now, you wan check out? C'mon fall in!! Wetin you bin think say the ‘for worse’ part resemble?"

Then, divorces were not as common.

You come in freely, you make an agreement, and you sign a contract yeah?

You stick to it.

We have failed unions and then we have FG and ASUU.
The difference between these troubled couples is that for the latter, aside from the 'biological children' suffering from the bitter arguments and hurtful exchanges, there is the petty trader in the shopping complex on campus caught somewhere between the standoff that suffers as well.

Worried, her fear is that soon her eldest daughter would go into full-blown prostitution, as she cannot afford to take care of the younger children due to the strike action. The daughter calls these men that drop her off at unholy hours of the day her ‘friends’. They give her an amount of money that ‘she does not work for’. She knows she should stop her but Junior the baby of the house is on admission in the University Teaching Hospital which comprises striking/absent doctors and she is broke.
You see, their father is dead and his family shunned her.
She sold the rest of what she owned to acquire the shop and get it stocked. It became the source of their livelihood, security and all.

I have stopped obsessing over the knowledge that a huge chunk of taxpayer’s money is being wired across border to develop our neighboring sister countries like Chad, Benin, Cameroon and Niger. These nice people are offering our Nigerian children uninterrupted educational supply for a hefty sum, a sum which they use to upgrade their schools, communities and amenities. Who cares that Nigeria is loosing the money we say we do not have?

Finally, these series of nuptial celebrations have got me fantasizing about my dashing prince charming and our happily ever after.
Public service announcement; I’m getting married!!
Hehehe

The blues

For someone who loves to waddle, wriggle and splash the weather of late combined with my present location is dancing very close to the edge of being outright foul. I know it is Garden city – Rivers state and all that but come on!?
I am quite certain some figurative thoughts were at play when they named it so! I for one know that they do not go about passing random food hampers in Benue state – the food basket of the nation.

If I say the rain is wicked, the general agreement will be that “Oseyi has come again” (where I went to in the first instance? I do not know) but how else will I describe a thingy that falls in earnest for a bit, eases up and lets the sun come out to play, convinces you it is done with its theatrics and gets you to leave your umbrella/raincoat/boyfriend-slippers behind then jumps out from the clouds and douses you with its chilling presence?
It is bad enough that it was one of the deciding factors for my shocking liaison with the 'scissors of Bodija', now its acting like an obsessed monster, forcing you to bend to its will and failing to understand that NO MEANS NO (there is a not so flattering 4 letter word for this behavior. I even hear discusses about the legality and acceptance of related acts. (Something to do with old men, under developed little girls and VVF).
There’s just something about this so-called ‘weather for two’ that rubs me the wrong way. Then again, this 'rubbing' is a matter I’d like to table for discussion (not today though).

Saturday July 23, 2013
Like play like play, the month is sliding to a steady end.
This is a good thing, the whole hope characteristics of ‘man’ enables most people to look forward to tomorrow, the day after it and tolerate bull crap from the powers that be but before I hop on the trust wagon and chug-chug out of the month of July, I’d like answers to the few questions that manifested over the days gone by.
For ease of response, I have summed them into 4 categories. Please, feel free to supply answers where possible.

1. Of love

a. How does ‘ making a compromise’ differ from wanting the other party to change entirely to suit your lifestyle?
b. How do people walk away from the one they love and manage to live happily ever after with Mr./Miss. Suitable?
c. Love is a battlefield yeah? So after ‘Marriage’, what next?
Divorce?

2. Of living

a. I love my friends, relations and kinsmen. This I know. Where is it written that to prove this fact, I have one has to attend the ‘grand tribunal’ every Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, sacrifice a purple Billy goat, dance around a silver lock and serenade each and every member of this ‘love circle’ with calls and updates of their every thought?
b. Where are all the butterflies?
c. Nigeria is above 50 years old today. What is democracy?

3. Of behaviors

a. What is the definition of ‘Normal’? Who is sane and who is insane?
b. The madmen and women that parade the streets; what are they looking for, who are they talking to and where do they get their change of clothes?
c. At “No strings attached/friends with benefits”: how does it work, when does it end and whose bright idea was it?
d. * Erased due to graphic nature*

4. Unclassified

a. Where do babies come from?
b. Will Nigerian roads ever be fixed to a good working condition?
c. Can I die for my president, will you?
d. Cashless Nigeria?

Thank you for your anticipated assistance (and shared wisdom – I truly appreciate), have a lovely weekend and do not ask me what question 3d was about.
Cheers!!

What's Myne (Part 3)

Baba Igho refused to rise he stretched his battered body on the ground and pulled his tattered clothes about him.
“Go away Akpos." He urged. "You have served me well and long. At this day and age, it is hard to believe I came across a man of your caliber. Whatever debt you feel you owe, I release you of them. If I had riches, I would have showered you with gold, coins and ornaments but I have nothing to offer. I have lost it all to pride and bad judgement. Akpos my friend, I will not let you loose your life for my sake. Leave while you have the advantage of youth. Learn from my mistakes, that of my daughters and their spouses. Be a better leader, landlord, father; a better person.”
Akpos squatted beside him, stretched the sleeve of his shirt and used it to mop Baba Igho’s weary forehead.
“Sir, I have learned a lot in the many days we have spent on the road. I am better for it. For the lessons, I am grateful. However, if I were to leave you lying on the road to die like a brigand, I will not be better than your daughters who have abandoned you in your time of need." He dropped his hand and leaned on his haunches. "Let me take you to your home and see that you are as comfortable as I can manage. Afterwards, I will leave you to your fate and go make a life for myself.”
Baba Igho considered his proposal for a while then agreed to his terms.
He let Akpos assist him to stand.

They continued the journey.

By day, they walked in the heat of the sun feeding on fruits and seeds.
At night, they rested. Setting up camp in the shade of trees with makeshift tents.
Days flowed into nights and nights to day.
Through the bone chilling rains, blistering cold and scorching heat, they continued to forge ahead.

Finally, they reached his estate.

When they drew near to the shack that had become his home, an elegantly dressed lady seated in front and watching the road let out a happy squeal and came running towards them.
She stopped in front of Baba Igho, threw her arms around his neck and folded him in a warm embrace.
In a little while, streaks of tears started to line her face.
Perplexed, Akpos tried pulling her away but she resisted. “Madam, this man is sick and he is quite dirty as well, come away from him, or your lovely clothes would be ruined."
As an after thought, he added. "He could also make you sick.”
She resisted his pull, held fast to Baba Igho and continued to shake with tears.
Akpos inched away certain the lady had lost her mind.

He began searching for a rope or bond of sorts with which to bind her for a little while (at least until her minder came in search of her).
He drifted to the side of the shack and stopped short at sight before him.
There was a mansion about a stones throw from the shack.

It was not there when they set out in search of the daughters.

The house glistered in the sun, flowers were budding in the little garden in front and he could hear laughter emanating from within.

The land looked like it was slowly awakening from a bad dream.

The curtains in one of the windows of the house moved and caught his attention.
There was a little girl behind the glass.
When she spotted him, she yelled with glee.
She disappeared from the window and reappeared at the door after a little while.
Running out of the house on little feet that appeared too big for the rest of her body, she bounded towards him and threw herself on his leg. She wrapped her chubby hands around him and gave him a hug.

Half dragging, half pulling him, she led him to Baba Igho and the lady. Bouncing up and down in excitement, she chanted. “You found him! You found him!” confused, he asked. “Found who?”

Baba Igho peeled the lady from his body and held her at arms length.
With a questioning look and a dare to hope, he queried.
“Mine?”
she looked into his eyes, smiled and nodded.
“Yes Father it is I, your daughter."
He let out a gasp.
"Not one day passed that I have not thought of you.”
She stroked the side of his face and blinked back tears that threatened to fall out.
“My husband, the sickly child of the bent lady got very ill, I could not leave his side. He was a good man, intelligent and kind. You would have liked him. The seeds you gave to mother, we planted, harvested and sold for huge profits. With the money we planned a future, invested and built a home. We have all we could want for but my husband is no more. His body was too weak to bear the strain of living. After making me promise to always be happy, he passed away. We have been looking for you ever since. Myself, your grandchildren and” she giggled. “ The bent old woman!”

Baba Igho shook his head in disbelief and stammered.
“But - but you do not love me.”
“Father." She urged. "I remember telling you I loved you as much as my duties required. I never said I did not love you.”
As understanding dawned on him, she continued. “ Father dearest, my duty is to love you until I take my last breath. To honor you, obey you and make a worthwhile life for myself. To do the right thing always, bring up honest children and teach them how to love. Most importantly, my duty is to be your daughter.”
She let out a winsome smile, took his hands and covered his shriveled palms with hers.
“ Father you carried me when I was a helpless baby and taught me to walk, laugh and sing. Please, let me be your daughter and your joy in old age.”
Myne led her father into the house she had prepared in his absence, washed him and nursed him till his health returned.

Akpos followed them.

Struck by Myne’s grace and beauty, he did not leave as promised. In time, he built the nerve to ask her to be his wife (she said yes!).

One by one, her sisters returned home (Myne saw to it).

Working together, they restored the land to its former glory. It prospered and was fruitful. In time, the tenants returned.

With each of the daughters finding happiness in honesty, respect for the land and love of their neighbor, they became better women.


Kiki got married again! To a politician whose word was his bond. Together, they built a formidable empire backed by the unwavering loyalty of the people.

Zizi ‘s footballer husband lost a leg, he came crawling back and demanded to be reconciled with her.
She turned him down and had a career. juggling being a teacher with being a makeup artist, she starred in another story.

Mimi and her husband went for anger management therapy and rehab. They learned the importance of communication and both agreed to seek counseling if ever their marriage seemed to be hitting the rocks (they were blessed with two children).

Once upon a time, there lived a great man. He was wealthy and powerful and his estate fertile and vast. His lands begun from the banks of a river and continued up stream to form a huge city.
His was a fair businessman and was good to his tenants.
His greatest assets were his children.

Successful, relevant and kind, his four beautiful daughters were the fairest in the land.
They loved their father to the moon, back and beyond and took care of him in his old age.

There was Justice, Peace and Prosperity in the land.
They worked for it, just like we all should.

…. And they lived happily ever after, the end!

Addictions

John Anonymous
SS3
Biology Paper

Part B, Theory

2a: characteristics of living things include
i. living things can jump
ii. living things can play ball
iii. living things can go to the buka and buy snacks
iv. living things can sing

2b. specimen a is a spider, specimen b is a weevil
2c. similarities between both specimens include:

The question that follows should be whose fault is this?
The student or the teacher?
The school or the parent?
The society or the Government?


Proverbs 22:6
" Train up a child in the way he should go,
And when he is old he will not depart from it"

Everywhere, there are schemes and programs popping up aimed at creating a better Nigeria:
Skills acquisition..., Woman empowerment..., Small business enterprise...
These endeavor's are nice attempts, all of them but I feel they are missing the point.

How about the children?
Our youths; the leaders, fathers and mothers of tomorrow?
How about their education?


Whatever happened to spelling bees, literary, debate and quiz competitions?
Have they gone out of fashion or have they lost their relevance?
I wonder.

There are sex, drink and drug addictions but the worst addictions are the ones we refuse to admit.

I am going to digress a bit and talk about a boy.
Or, maybe I shouldn't (not now anyway, later!)

Because I Said So!

Having a cold shower early in the wickedly cold morning is not funny.
Not funnier is finding out (after the wickedly cold shower) you left your towel in the other room because you first of all (*do not go down low) dropped it when you quickly threw on a shirt to answer the door for your over zealous trash collector and then later became so much in a hurry to make it a little earlier than late to work that you ran to the bathroom almost immediately and braved the ice cold water.
Running naked with water dripping down your back might look sexy, appealing and hot in the movies but in real life, it is *@#**ed! (pardon my french).

Then there is Daniel!
Daniel is a rambunctious 13 year old from Imo state, Nigeria.
He made me speechless for all of 20 seconds when he told me point blank that a woman's place is in the kitchen.
When I had my wits about me, I got up from my perch, pulled out a seat for him and invited him to parley with me.
Further discussions revealed his mother as the source for his convictions.
She told him that in the kitchen lies a woman's power, that if the husband were to take that from her, she would be powerless.
So basically, my 7 years in the university was a complete waste of time as my life ambition ought to be dreaming of the day when that special man would take me into his house to lord over his pots, pan and silverware.
Daniel can make a sandwich, does not like beans and wants to be a lawyer when he grows up.

Yesterday, when I got in late and was asked why, I said under my breath that it was because there was juju on the road.
Today, I stopped by said juju and took a picture of it

Tied around a stick are pieces of red cloth, snail shells and a very short broom.
I do not know if the snail is still in its shell or out with friends but examining a dangling snail on a lonely bush path did not seem like such a good idea at the time.
It appears that putting a nice friendly signpost with a "do not disturb" does not quite work for everyone.

The thought of Friday scares and excites me because I plan on doing something very (very) naughty.
It involves fluids, flashes and latex.
I am curious as to whether I'd do it or chicken out last minute.
What do you think?

Yeah since I mentioned it and cant now seem to get the song out of my head, here's Olamide!

He did his own version of azonto with the song "First of all" - freestyle. The track gets me every time. Heck get down low if you want to!!

- Oseyi