A tale to tickle your toes. 

It’s another one from Chineye. 

If you can relate after reading this,  say ‘aye’. 😊

—————-

I, hereby, declare a Whole Beef.

I can’t sleep because I’m pained. If you have a nutritionist aunt, just forget it. Nutritionists are terrorists.

In bed and reminiscing one very painful incident, it’s more painful now, that I think of it. 

During one of my visits to one of my relatives, they served everyone pounded yam and egusi, then my aunt smiled at me, with her lovely dentition.

‘Oh Chi, you’re on a diet. Manage the salad. I mixed it with fish so, you’ll like it’. 

Just like that, no conscience, like I’m a goat.😒.

When i strolled into the kitchen, I saw the egusi soup with goat meat, stock fish and dry fish. The sight of the food, oh, it was like I’d walked to a temple. It looked sacred. I asked the help for mine and was served. You see, my plan was to quickly eat there but I was forming not desperate.

I’d washed my hands o, taken my time to mould the ‘poundy’ in my palm, dipped the poundy ball into the soup and taken a generous amount of soup with the ‘minions’, about to put it in my mouth.

‘Ah’! My aunt had rushed into the kitchen, caught me at that moment and screamed. 

Mtcheeeeewww!

As if it was not painful enough, I got home. Too tired from the traffic, hungry, I decided to just take some yoghurt and sleep. Suddenly, my neighbour came to my house with her dinner, egusi and semolina. 

Ordinarily, I could have joined her but it looked small and she kept saying ‘Ha, Chi, I’ve not eaten since morning’, as if she knew I was about to beg her. I looked at the food long and hard, wondering what I did to deserve this. 

Oh Lord, why?

Storytelling Friday with Chineye. 

‘Reading allows us live a 100 lives without moving an inch. ‘

Here’s a non-fiction piece by Chinenye Junne to turnt your Friday. She’s hilarious too…don’t say I didn’t warn you!


…So I got suffocated today.

After scanning the whole tomatoes section, I spotted my favourite malam bent over a basket of tomatoes. Standing up, he saw me approaching and gave me his signature missing tooth smile.

However, today was not one of our overly friendly days as prices of things in the market were not friendly too. So, we bargained furiously, his smile disappeared and was replaced by a slight frown. Eventually, we agreed at a price but his frown had deepened.

While he packed the tomatoes and peppers, I stood by his side to avoid touching stories. I shouldn’t have.

First, I thought what I perceived was from the mud but with each second, the smell became stronger. I moved away from his side but it seemed like the smell followed me, so I covered my nose with a handkerchief. 

I really wanted to know if my mind was right so I fixed my gaze on the malam. He was no longer angry, I could have sworn I saw him smile. When he handed me the bag, I wanted him  to know I was suspicious so I kept looking at him while I covered my nose. Next, he burst into laughter.

‘Sorry madam, I no know when tusa comot. No vex’

He said amidst laughter. I was so angry when I left. If I didn’t get those tomatoes at that price ehn, I could have left them for him. He should have refused to sell to me at that price, instead of that nonsense.

Lesson learnt: over familiarity brings farting on the face.

Silent Bells

Emotional Abuse. For a man. Isn’t all that common.

OR IS IT? A coachee of mine wrote this. You should breathe it in…

esuwrites

I smiled.
Even when it stung my pride, leaving deep bloody sores of shame.

I smiled.
As each adjective unmasked the monster she saw in me.

I smiled.
Inside,  there was heat, there was pain, but I couldn’t raise my voice (or my hand).

They would call me weak.
And there were no scars to tell the full story.

I smiled.
But deep inside it choked my little embryo of happiness.

Emotional abuse just doesn’t ring the right bells.
All I can do is smile.

Featured Image by Fabiola ArtFabiola ArtFabiola Art

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Every blogger needs to read this

ROME WAS NOT BUILT IN A DAY…

Your actions make it seem like it was.

thesparklewritershub

3 ways to get great pictures for your blogHow do you feel when you see bloggers who write posts and get 20 comments, 100 shares and even gets endorsement deals because of their blog. It makes you wonder what you are not doing right.

We saw this quote and we were encouraged and being the great people that we are, we have decided to share. This quote was shared by Darren Rowse.  He said

99.9% of great bloggers are not awesome on day one. Their awesomeness is the accumulation of the value they create over time.”

How profound is that? 

This means that you have no business getting envious of other bloggers and their successes because they have done so much work overtime to get to that point. You can’t be blogging for one month and expect the same results as someone who has been blogging consistently for one year. 

No blogger becomes perfect by writing…

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Better Soup, Na Money Kill Am!

Ogbono-Soup-1

Some days, when I flashback to when my second paid training, I laugh.
It is funny now but it wasn’t funny then.

I had been ardently following a writing authority online for a while. And I thought I knew where my loyalties lay. Until he started promoting a 21-day training he was to hold.

I snapped. Read More

HOW I MET GEN. ABDUSALAMI ABUBAKAR

I remember when a former schoolmate posted on Facebook about how he had gotten a chance to photograph an ex-president, Olusegun Obasanjo.

As my eyes fed on his post, I thought to myself, ‘This is mind-blowing’. If only I had known that I would soon get my very own meeting with one of our ‘heroes past’.

Just today, at a book launch with my colleagues and editor from Kachifo Limited, I saw him walk in.

White beard. Northern Cap. Soft eyes. This man had seen and ruled the Nigeria of yesterday. He had seen the coups and wars. He had seen the military regime we sometime wish we could return to.

As my phone camera flashed with each snapshot I took of him, later to be uploaded to our company’s social media platforms, I smiled.

Who would have thought this would have been experienced by a ‘mere’ writer like me?

A mere writer who had chosen a less noisy publishing house above the hustle and bustle of the digital agency industry.

CHEERS TO EVERY ‘MERE WRITER’!