How it all started

I will not start with the usual i normally don’t do this speech, because let’s face it, i always do this, and in a nation where politics has taken center stage, a story of this caliber is a breath of fresh air.

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virtual1I should never have logged on to twitter

Or better still, I should have kept my fingers and emotions in check while tweeting, I am pretty sure if I had, I wouldn’t be telling this story.

Right now I am sure you are wondering what the heck I am talking about, well keep your shorts on, don’t be in a rush, and I’ll tell you.

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TWITTERI decided to embark on this journey around tweetville a couple of years ago, I had spent many years in facebooktopia and had made a good name for myself, the villagers were friendly and life was good, I had become a very successful post and picture trader, earning am average of 130 comments and likes per post and picture, and this had made me quite loved and respected, but as all humans were, I craved more.

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images SIGN

Dear Mr. President,

I will at this point skip the formalities of asking how you and the family are doing, not out of disrespect, but simply because I see you on TV all the time, and from there I know you are doing fine.

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indexCertain events make us realize the error of our ways, by normal human nature, we only become remorseful, when we get caught doing something wrong, we ordinarily  would never repent if we got away with doing evil over and over again.

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PERSONALITY OF THE WEEK: Ronald Ikenna Anthony Nzimora

Hello esteemed readers, and welcome to another edition of Personality of the week, a segment aimed at showing how ordinary Nigerians are doing ordinary things.

Our personality of the week is a very unique individual, a man of words backed up with knowledge of various subject matters, a man who sees things for what they are and is never afraid to speak up for what is right, a man you could easily compare his careful thought process to some of the greatest minds the world has had to offer, and who is this man you might ask, well I’ll tell you who he is, he is a man i am proud to call a friend both on and off social media, a man i learn something from everyday.

Our personality of the week is non other than Ronald Ikenna Anthony Nzimora.

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confused man24 years later and I am all grown up, through murky waters and bitter nightmares I have emerged, with the love of an uncle and aunt who took me as their own, watching over me and never giving, for 24 years they gently chipped away the anger and hate, their love, patience and prayers was just what the doctor ordered.

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confused man

It took us five years to get pregnant, first two years of our marriage, we spent discovering each other, and making plans, building our home. At first it didn’t bother us, because we thought we had it all planned out, we wanted to be ready before the baby came, so we waited, one year became two years and the three years, and my wife became worried, so did i.

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Hello Everyone and welcome back to another segment of “Personality Of The Week”, and this week, we are hosting a very unique gentleman, a warm and friendly man, a very principled man, and yes i should know, because  from my interactions with him on and off social media, he is all these things and more,if you watch animations as much as i do, then you can easily relate him to sheriff woody, from the animation “TOY STORY”, he is very much like the sheriff in the sense that he lives by a certain morale code, a gentleman when he needs to be, but never hesitates to lay down the law when the need arises and  he is a fellow you would always want to have in your corner, and this week, he will be telling us more about himself, and more about the ever growing in popularity “TWITTER WEEKLY ROUND UP”.

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We are starting off our maiden edition of Personality of the week, with a man who has dedicated his life to the service of God and mankind, but before i proceed any further, i will attempt to shed some light on this new segment.

I decided to start this segment, to honor those everyday ordinary people, who are doing extra ordinary things, on a daily basis, trying to impact on their society and those around them in positive ways, and so every Friday i will be hosting a different individual, so stay tuned, and who knows, you might just be the next personality of the week.

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wpid-sad_black_woman.jpgBy the time I woke up, it was already late in the morning, and to my surprise I wasn’t tied or thrown into a hole like I had thought, I was just alone in the tent, I touched the side of my head, it didn’t hurt as much, but I still felt the pain, probably from the memory of the blow, I still lay down and stared at the tent ceiling, it was rather hot inside, Continue reading


tearsWe were driven for what seemed like an eternity, the long drive was quiet, quiet not because we were tired, but quiet because we were uncertain of what lay in front of us, the realization that we had been taken sank in very fast, i had heard stories of people being taken captive and never heard from again, many of us had even paid visits to families who had lost loved ones either by way of a stray or intentional bullets, axes or machetes, or being taken away, i would always say the same things over and over again, Continue reading


Ife-Story.jpgIt was a cold night, not unusually cold, but cold all the same, we were getting set for bed, after a long day of writing exams; exams we had studied day and night for, under the most stressful conditions; you see, it’s quite difficult studying for an examination and dodging either bullets or machetes, and not exactly in that order, because we always dodged  whichever came first, but we studied all the same, because deep down in her hearts we had the hope that someday soon, the turmoil would end, and we would be allowed to face our futures, so we decided to prepare for it sooner than later, we were not going to allow anything take away the only thing we had that was capable of giving us the lives we dreamed of, so we persevered and we studied.

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wpid-sad_black_woman.jpgAfter the incident we began to talk and play as kids’ do, I even started to hang out with Obiri and the rest of her friends whenever Aunty Edith was out as she often was. Sometimes I will follow her and Kemta her side kick to kuramo near the motor park on the other end of Paradise to go hustle. We go there to sell ‘Igbo’ weed or stolen phones which had been appropriated from handbags and pockets of careless commuters unlucky enough to have let their guard down while in Paradise Island, my duty was to stand watch near the road by the okada commercial cyclists to watch out for Police or ‘Askari’ as Obiri calls them in street parlance.

Sometimes i will follow them to Audu the Mai-Suya in front of Ghana High for barbeque fish with coke to chase it down, this was a luxury and only happened once in a while. I love coke but could not afford to buy it save the few times we made some money and will treat ourselves to one bottle each or share between us. Sometimes on these trips kemta and the other girls will steal off with the commercial motorcyclists, the okada men going towards the far and dark part where the beach huts faced rumbling waves of the ocean. They would be gone for 15 perhaps 20 minutes and then come back, the okada drivers adjusting his trousers and the girls counting money. I did not understand what they were selling but never asked not once although i never saw Obiri go with them.

Paradise island a complete contrast to its name one of the most deprived and violent ghettos in the city. It stood alone set apart from other areas an island standing aloof as though in defiance of constituted authority, that might be open to debate but most of the inhabitants were certainly in defiance of society. We made our own rules lived by our unwritten commandments. “Thou shalt not steal from residents” or a tire round your neck, a box of matches materialize as if from thin air and the culprit is reduced to cinders all in minutes. You are permitted to steal from outside never in Paradise…  

The Island concealed a rich gaggle of hardened criminals, inexhaustible supply of mild mannered and well-spoken fraudsters alike, I was yet to figure out the most terrifying monsters were not battle hardened villains carrying guns waylaying innocent people, they were those much closer to home sporting the beguiling smiles endearing manners.    

This Friday evening as usual Aunty Edith dressed up to go out only this time she laid out a pretty dress on the bed, she asked me if I liked it and i was extremely thrilled when i realized it was for me.I tried it on and it was a little short and revealing but I did not care so much about that. This does not happen every day so I was happy with my new dress, giggling with childish excitement. After a while we heard a knock and aunty opened the door, as soon as I saw his face my heart sank to the pit of my stomach, not even the excitement of my new dress could remedy the unpleasant mien that had sullied my happy mood, of all Auntie’s friends and customers I resent the man standing in the doorway the most. I constantly felt a strange sense of unease how Uncle Sammy stares and ogles me with those bloodshot eyes of his, piercing eyeballs which seem to bore right through me, searing as though stripping me naked. He is obese and very dark in complexion, always sweaty with a lingering body odor that trailed after him, not unlike mama’s He-goat back in the village.

Once, when Aunty was not looking he grabbed my bottom but I quickly pulled away from him, since then I am always mindful of being near him.   He stepped inside Aunty greeting him and both exchanged fleeting looks I did not understand but dismissed as something adults do. He sat down and like Aunty had tutored me, quickly rushed to our small fridge to fetch the bottle of beer reserved for him as i uncorked it he made a half-hearted effort to grab me and I jumped back alarmed, he laughed heartily as he busied himself filling the glass to the brim and gulping down to the dregs lips smacking in contentment. He must be giving her a lot of money because she never entertains any of the others, not even with ordinary water or biscuit, unless they brought out their own cash. Ah!!! Aunty never jokes with money.

 I sat down in a corner soon lost in my dreams my girlish fantasies though still self-conscious in his presence tried to cover the exposed part of my body due to the revealing dress. Aunty left with him later but instructed me to leave the door unlocked. It must have been no less than 30-45 minutes after I had been in bed I heard a creak in the door, before I could react I felt a massive sweaty palm clamp over my mouth. The overpowering odor the weight on top of me, even in the darkness I instinctively knew it was Uncle Sammy.

 In blind panic i tried struggling free the distinctive odor of cigarette assailing my nostrils but with little success. He was on top of me now breathing heavily noxious scent of beer and whiff of nicotine bellowing out with his every breath, ever present stale sweat as he continued slobbering all over me, while I tried twisting my face away from his terrifying assault. I made an effort to push him off and scream but he had planted his lips directly over mine, almost swallowing my lips and tongue in his slobbery and slimy assault. With his shoulder and part of his chest pinning me down to the bed one of his hands was fumbling and squeezing my immature and barely formed breast, rough and mauling touch really painful mentally more so. It felt like an eternity of his terrifying assault before he briefly paused to undo his belt .Then I saw a fleeting chance to free my right hand, as i grabbed an empty bottle sitting on the side of the bed and smashed it on his bald head as hard as I could with what little strength i had left, the bottle did not break but his yelp of pain as his hands instinctively went up to his head holding and massaging the point of contact was satisfying indeed.  

This created a small window of opportunity to quickly slip out from underneath him as i ran outside the room into the darkened corridor darting out as fast as my legs could carry me. He lumbered outside the bedroom after me cursing loudly and trying to grab hold of me but I was already outside, holding my torn nightie tightly with one hand to my chest and racing towards the main road. I looked around for any sign of Aunty but she was nowhere in sight so crossed over to the other side, and after a quick look to make sure he was not following ducked and hid my small frame on the other side of a disused sand dune. I sighted him after some minutes shuffling out, still massaging his head and smoking as he continued muttering audibly even in the distance. He lurched off into the night the dark already cloaking his dark thoughts and designs with the enveloping anonymity darkness affords the vile and evil.   It was in this state shivering with fright that omoefa had accosted me. She led me back to her own room lending me a shirt to wear over my torn dress, and then gave me her bed to sleep in until the next morning when Aunty will return. The next morning before I left Omoefa warned me not to accept opened drink or food from any of Auntie’s friends. I returned back to our apartment with a new resolve to return back to the village with the little money I have saved going out with Obiri and Kemta. I know mama can use the money to start something and we would have enough at least to feed.

To Be Continued……………………..

By Bunmi olaniyan

Read Part 2 HERE



wpid-sad_black_woman.jpgToday I turn sixteen years old.  

As I lay there deliberating my friend Omoefa’s coarse and loud voice rang out as she shouted my name from outside startled me out of short lived reverie. I got up from the bed still in my pant and bra holding my head which had subsided a bit, just by sheer will and effort managed to put on a pair of Jeans and tee shirt. I slipped on a pair of slippers and stepped into the slightly darkened corridor crisscrossed with other rooms adjoined leading out to the compound.  

I beheld one of the older girls who also worked in our compound Cindy and friends dancing near the window but ignored them only extending a brief greeting to Deborah one of the girls as I moved on, I heard from Omoefa’s roommate Cindy was from a good home, had even been sent to school a real secondary school but had run off with an older boyfriend her father’s pension safely tucked in her bag. The boyfriend swindled her and traveled out to Spain, leaving her with just a letter I suppose as memento or reminder I don’t know. Some have feet and shoes to wear on them, some have shoes but no feet, others possess neither shoes nor feet I wish, i wonder….  

I met Omoefa sitting in a corner with the girls smoking ‘Igbo’ weed as they all shuffled to the music emanating from the stereo. I went towards them and as soon as they sighted me, they all shouted as if on cue hailing AREA HOW FAR NAH? Happy Birthday!!!

Tinuke Omoefa’s room mate passed me a cup of “Tombo liquor “as I joined them on the bench Omoefa passed me the smouldering wrap of ‘Igbo’ she was smoking. I held it between my thumb and forefinger the embers cackling, sparks emitting from the tiny embers of the seed as i tapped the excess ash off. I put the cup to my lips and swallowed a mouthful of the local gin, my eyes watered slightly as the ethanol hit me full in the chest, oblivious to my pain charting a burning path down my throat traversing relentlessly down, a fiery passageway to the pit of my stomach. I took a long drag of the ‘Igbo’ weed inhaling holding in the smoke as long as I could thankfully, it was not the highly intoxicating kanaku hybrid.

The smoke circulated slowly coursing through internal orifice, oh so soothing…swirling as in creating an artificial smokes screen, cloud-induced interface alongside sudden No stark reality of the life i existed in.   It was all I could do not to lean back in relief my headache slowly receding as though dancing backwards, evaporating into nothingness…air, just like the smoke emanating from my slightly parted lips and nostrils drifting up into oblivion. I watched it all swirling upwards towards a stack heap of forgone memories where earlier introspection, niggling conscience end up never to harm or hold my thought process in a choke hold leaving me free to indulge in my vices, my excesses with no recourse to conscientious thoughts. 

The first time omoefa and I met she had accosted me hiding behind the sand dune crying profusely on a Friday night. I was tucked away in a darkened corner hence did not notice my presence until she nearly stepped on me. Omoefa shouted out in fright jumping back “Blood of Jesus” seeing me clearly her initial fright swiftly morphed into anger. She rounded up in anger asking who I was and my purpose for lurking in the darkness, all the while getting ready to smash her upturned fist in my face. Tears still running down my face intermittently casting furtive glances towards the main gate i had escaped from, she must have realized the extent of my disconcert especially at the sight of my torn clothes as I held tightly to cover my half exposed breasts. Her anger turned to concern, as she asked me what had occurred abandoning all her initial resolve and hostility.  

When I arrived Paradise Island I was still naïve hence was oblivious to what the girls actually did until much later. I only started to enjoy myself after I met Obiri, a girl who lived in a shack next to our compound. She was my age although looked and acted older, that girl was a real tomboy a fire cracker. I often wondered how she came to be living on their own in the ghetto later after becoming firm friends, she confided in me that she ran away from home hiding under a lorry ferrying plantains to Lagos.

She was labelled a witch by a man they called ‘Prophet Zephaniah’ in her village, Prophet’s minions tortured then forced her to drink a concoction made out of water droplets drained from a dead body, declaring the spirit of the dead will compel her into a confession of her deeds even against her will. It seemed one of the strongest demons dwelt in her dark heart as she failed to confess, repeatedly maintaining her innocence. This provoked Prophet’s holy anger as he instructed assistants to hold her down, mouth forced open using his holy staff and concoction poured down her throat. Ensuing stomach cramps triumphant validation for prophet Zephaniah.

She had been accused initially by her father of deploying the powers of witchcraft that strong demonic spirit to drain his destiny causing an inability to feed her 8 siblings, he was a subsistent farmer. Her ropes had been untied in the dead of the night by her mother, who urged her to run away or be killed. Rescuing her mother and siblings from her father’s clutches and giving them a better life has been her motivation for hustling. I will make it in Paradise Island one day you watch and see if I don’t she often said with strong conviction and seriousness.      

Aunty had sent me to buy some Panadol at baba Oyibo’s chemist not very far from our compound. On my way back, one of the boys who hang around our street accosted me snatching Auntie’s change off my hand. I cried out begging him to give me back the money but he laughed taunting me until Obiri walked towards us and faced him. Looking on steadily no expression on her face bellying her true intentions she asked him to return my money, but he didn’t pay her any heed neither did I to be fair. Request repeated again this time firmly resolute as calm as you please, or he would get a beating. He finally paid attention to the irritant quickly surveying her small frame incredulously, unbelieving of the sheer impudence from this tiny runt as he laughed gleefully. Truly Obiri like me was shorter than the boy, by this time his friends had sauntered closer cheering urging him on.

All of a sudden she lunged forward grabbing his neck like a man and raining punches, open mouthed map of disbelief displayed all over my face at the sight “See this small ‘Pelenge’ girl fighting a boy. The fight seemed reminiscent of David and Goliath bored children had begun watching and clapping as the impromptu fight progressed. She landed a quick succession of punches then another slap Ha it’s a miracle!! I stopped counting after nine punches with interjecting slaps, a cut on his thick black lips blood spurted trailing down his jaw line. He was riled seriously angry now, yellow rimmed eyeballs bulging in naked resentment as he wiped excess blood with the hem of his oversize 2pac long sleeve tee shirt, he began pulling up his sleeves. It has gotten much personal no more a random past time but saving face that male ego has to be redeemed forthwith. He deliberately rushed towards Obiri swinging wildly right hand busy, as he made to grab her with his left hand we all gasped in fright but she darted back evading his latest swing, then moved in crouching like Malaika the great wrestler in our village. She grabbed his legs in a seemingly coordinated motion and shoved him backwards. He landed hard on his buttocks the audible grunt of pain sounding like a pig’s grunt. The tides had swiftly turned at this stage everyone turning the boos earlier directed towards the small girl into cheers the now vanquished fighter lying on the ground, smarting from defeat. I watched her beat him back to the ground, even after he unsuccessfully tried to get back up until an old woman drove the crowd away with a long broom.  Caught up in the excitement I had forgotten about my dilemma until I felt my cloth tugged from the back i turned around to see her still looking disheveled from the fight and sporting a small bump on her right cheekbone, without a word she shoved the crumpled change in my palm abruptly walking away.

To Be Continued……………………………

Written By Bunmi olaniyan 

Read Part 1 HERE


sad girlAunty Edith sauntered into the room and dropped her overnight bag on the floor. She Kicked off her heels and hung the wig on the rusty hook by the door, settling her considerable girth on a stool in front of the small dressing table as she began to rummage in the small drawer attached, where our toiletries, makeup were kept.

She fished out some cotton wool and a plastic bottle of cleansing spirit vigorously wiping off the greasepaint off her face, muttering half angrily under her breath “that osho free just used my body till the next morning, then handing me a paltry N5,000 after we had agreed on N12, 000 what am I supposed to do with that chicken feed? She asked rhetorically staring at the mirror masking her audible anger.

She finished scrubbing and simultaneously slapped a tattered shower cap on her head, then struggled out of the ultra-tight dress throwing it in a corner, as she wrapped a brown threadbare towel round her large frame, getting ready to have a bath. I rose up from the bed stretching and mumbled greetings. She Looked at me scornfully eyebrows slightly raised asking me how much I made yesterday. I rummaged under the pillow and handed her the crumpled folded Naira notes, she counted carefully and grunted as she bent down and opened the bottom drawer of the bedside cabinet where she kept our money putting it away and locking up, carefully tucking the key into her bra.

Aunty Edith had always distrusted banks feeling secure in the knowledge that I was the only one who knew where she kept our money, besides every act of theft in the compound was brutally suppressed anyway. she had informed me that banks held on to  people’s money and will not return it complete  anytime you needed it back, i have no idea if this is true because I have never been inside a bank before much less owned an account.

I was exhausted from yesterday though I only had few customers and two bottles of imported beer, I spent the most of the night with the old man Ambricose.

He is a constant regular of mine and has been coming for a long time, two sometimes three times a week, even before I arrived ‘Paradise Island’. The kind of ‘Igbo’ weed he brought with him yesterday knocked me out and now, I have a serious headache an after effect of that devils cigarette. I vaguely remember him warning me it was the notorious ‘kanaku Kenya’ hybrid, but the inebriating effect of alcohol induced euphoria had deadened any sense of precaution in me. I must have smoked more than normal, as the ceaseless din reverberating in my head seemed like the blacksmith in our village, hammering and shaping a tool in earnest consistent hammering on and on.

Ambricose had been a frequent customer even before I was brought here hence his shift in attention to me had created a festering jealousy in Airou, who had been his favorite before my arrival. Airou was same age as me, and well admired by many that patronized us she was blessed with an olive skin and a sort of caramel complexion the color of imported sweets displayed prominently in those supermarkets situated along the nice part of the island, her skin looked a cross between the Indians and Lebanese traders who owned sea food shops on the island, her oval face and pointed nose gave an alluring and innocent almost regal beauty seldom found in Paradise Island.

I heard from Obiri my friend who had known of her long before my arrival that she was from a place called Chad in the north, I have no idea where that is as I have never gone past our village and Paradise Island. She had informed me Aunty Celestine whom we all knew as her guardian had found Airou under the bridge, near waterside area being forcefully raped by one of the old disabled beggars under the bridge and had rescued her. She had been unable to communicate verbally then due to her age, but they were able to approximate her age at around 7years or thereabouts. Airou was brought back to Paradise Island and nursed back to health she has been with her ever since, the only real mum she had ever known. It seemed the symbiotic relationship they had, was of   mutual benefit  and obviously worked well for both.

Even though Ambricose pays well always gentle with me unlike most of the ‘area’ boys, nevertheless often forced me to do things I don’t like. I sometimes wonder where an old man like him learnt all those depraved sexual acts, but cannot ask questions as long as he has paid Aunty who made the decisions.

Today is my birthday.  

Instead of feelings of elation and Joy upon this special day, I sit wondering questioning why I am feeling this despondent. I feel much older than I am for some obscure reason that eludes me, maybe it is due to people’s remarks that I am a big woman now. A woman big enough even old enough to satisfy those countless men who have shared my bed, who have passed through me. Who knows if it had to do with experience, checkered  history with older men here in Paradise Island which has matured and tested me ‘wiser’ beyond my years, Or maybe I am truly old, am i no longer a child? Or so I’m told. So maybe, just maybe.

Written By Bunmi olaniyan 



There are questions, oh yes, there are questions that must be asked, and yes I speak for myself, and that is why I write by myself, but I want you to read, and maybe, just maybe you might have the same questions going through your mind.

The nobility, not mobility oh, sorry Mr. mobility I had to clarify that, now where was I, oh yes, the nobility of the cause to bring back the kidnapped Chibok Girls is quite laudable, and admirable, and oh well you get the point, and while there have been demands and cries and appeals and so on, the fact still remains that the girls have not been brought back, and more have been taken, although we have been made to believe, or rather an attempt to convince everyone that no recent kidnaps have been carried out, we know better don’t we?

Anyway, back to the main reason I decided to postpone my pancake breakfast to put these words on virtual paper. For a while now, there have been reports, reports of girls escaping from the clutches of their captors, and I don’t mean 1 or 2, am talking about 40 and most recently 63 girls have escaped, now I rejoiced when I read the news, at least even if those we are asking to bring them back have foot dragged for over 80days, the girls have carried out daring escapes, and have come up, and we give God all the glory, or you give glory to who or whatever it is you worship, well because last time I checked, there was still freedom of religion, or am I wrong?

Anyway, this morning I read on the wire, that 63 girls had escaped, and I immediately decided to scan through the popular social media sites to authenticate the information, but to my surprise, or maybe lack of it, I found no news about the returned girls, correct me if I am wrong, and I am pretty sure lots of people will correct me, but isn’t the return meant to be a good thing? If the return of some of the girls is a good thing, then shouldn’t there be so much noise, that scrolling through preferred social media sites would be so tedious a task, as to drain the batteries of our handheld devices, but alas, as I scrolled through, my battery life dropped from 100% to a mere 96%.

Requests have been made, does it really matter in what order the requests are granted? Or should the granting of the request not be the topmost priority? Whenever some individuals request for visas to visit other countries, and the requests are granted, don’t they rush to their various churches and give testimonies of how they had to walk through the valley of death to acquire said visas, and the story of triumph in the end? So why should the escape of 63 girls and more in the recent past, who have been in the hands of their abductors for over 80 days not be a cause for celebration, press conferences, twitter Hashtags, Facebook likes and even a reason to resurrect My-space, instead all I see are comments of doubt, all I see are comments blaming the government, of fueling a continued illusion, all I see is silence from hearts that should be filled with joy, and all I ask is this, should it be so?

I don’t intend for this write up to be lengthy, mainly because I hate cold pancakes, but in an much as it is right to make demands and keep the #BRINGBACKOURGIRLS campaign alive, wouldn’t it be swell to know that there are waiting arms, open, in the eventuality that they will return, albeit in some unconventional and unexpected manners?

Would it not be heartwarming to see the same energy used in making the demand, to also rejoice with such news, and splash it all over the internet and in the real world?

Would it not be nice to know that, there are plans on ground to ensure the escaped girls receive all the medical and psychological attention they require, after such a harrowing experience?

Yes, I know at this point most readers are itching to comment, and so gladly inform us that there are modalities in place, but they are being kept under wraps, but then I would reply, I am not asking to see the girls, I am not requesting to see their names, all I am asking is that, the same energy used to keep the hashtag alive, the same energy used in giving us updates about the insensitivity of the government and their callous approach to finding the girls and ending the carnage, should also be put into informing eager ears and the numerous disciples on the progress made with the returned girls.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

Well I think I have said enough for now, but before I go, I’ll say this, I am happy, some are coming home, I am happy they were able to escape, and eventually, they will be reunited with their families.

“For they who clamor

Silently Pray

For the Clamor to go unnoticed

So the clamor may continue

And the spotlight remains”

God Bless You, God Bless Me, God Bless The federal Republic Of Nigeria……. Wait that is still our name right?

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)



confused manHe would stare at her for long minutes at a time, wondering how any human could appear so flawless, beautiful and graceful all at the same time.

I would tell him several times in a day, to keep his fantasies to himself, you see Amarachi, was a married woman who lived next door, yes a lovely woman I might add, but married none the less, and there was something else, something dark and sad, a secret shame she tried so carefully to hide.

Amarachi was married to Somto, better known to his friends as the Johnny Blaze, well because he could easily blow up without warning, and he really was a “prick”. Somto was a night club bouncer, and he got used to treating everything like garbage, including Amarachi his wife.

Yes, Somto was a big “prick”, a slob, in subtle terms he was a pig, he would drink all night, come home drunk, scream about everything he saw, drink some more, and yes beat his wife with a belt, sometimes he would beat her in the backyard, and when we tried to intervene, he would say she was his responsibility and he had to train her, yeah right like she was a wild animal he was trying to tame.

Femi, my friend and house mate would go over to the house and confront Somto, but he would shrug and walk away, we called the police on several occasions but nothing was done, they were his buddies, and I remember once they said we were trespassing and Somto would press charges when next we tried to gain access to his home, of course we had no evidence, and Amarachi was too scared to call the cops herself, she would later say she was in a helpless situation.

Amarachi was a school dropout, she was a dancer in a local club, Somto frequented back in the day, and according to her, he was the only one who treated her right, I guess she knew what she was saying.

Many times we would hear Somto call her names, yeah he was that loud and on many occasions he would lock her out in the backyard overnight, Femi would stand by the kitchen window and watch her sob.

He told me many times how she needed to be rescued, he would say she needed a man to love her and treat her right, I guess he thought he was her knight in shining armor, I would always tell him to thread carefully, because Somto was a maniac, and his little brain always told him to act violently first and think later, if at all he ever did.

I remember Femi gradually started be-friending Amarachi, at first she was reluctant, but gradually she began enjoying his company, he would go over when Somto was at work, or they would discuss over the backyard fence when he was at the bar.

Gradually Femi fell in love with Amarachi, and I think she did too, Femi was making plans to run away with her, I don’t know till now if that was a good idea or not, well obviously my opinion didn’t matter.

Amarachi now relished the nights Somto would lock her out, she would sneak into our house and into Femi’s bed, and soon she mastered the art of sneaking in and out, I lost count of how many times it happened, on one hand I was glad she was happy and found comfort in Femi, on the other hand I was worried as to what the outcome might be if Somto ever found out, and no I wasn’t worried because I was a coward, I was simply worried because he was a very dangerous man.

I found out soon enough, Somto was getting suspicious, you see Amarachi was regaining her self-confidence, on one occasion she walked out on him, and went to sit on the back steps, Somto came out and beat her black and blue, I had to pick up a golf club to make him stop, I called the police, and reported a domestic dispute, they never showed, and Femi was off visiting his folks.

He was furious when he got back, but I told him not to confront Somto, for lack of reason, and that night Amarachi came over, she cooked us dinner and cried her eyes out, we cheered her up with jokes and taught her how to play guitar hero, the fun ended abruptly when she heard his van pull up, she was not quick enough to get into the house, but she made it to the back porch, Somto stormed into the backyard and started pushing and slapping her around, questioning and asking where she was all night, he called her a no good whore, and punched her in the face, she ran into our kitchen, her nose bleeding, Femi held her, and I went to get the first aid kit and my golf club, I knew Somto would come and I knew he would come for a fight.

True to his brute nature he stormed in, with a kitchen knife, he screamed and cursed, Amarachi hid behind Femi, her nose bleeding, Femi and I stood our ground, we threatened to call the cops, he wasn’t moved, he lunged at me, punched me in the nose before I could swing the club, it fell to the floor, and so did I, he kicked me in the stomach, and I felt like all the air had left my body.

Femi charged him, and knocked him backwards, the knife fell out of his hand, he regained his footing, and rushed Femi, Somto was a huge man, it was like a bull coming at you, Femi picked up the club and swung, he missed, and he got punched, I saw Amarachi run out of kitchen.

Somto was on Femi, kicking and punching, I tried to crawl up to them, but I wasn’t of much use, I could hear the blows, suddenly I heard sirens in the distance, he screamed at Femi, threatened to kill him before the cops got there, from the side of my eye I saw him pick up the knife, his knee was on Femi’s back, he pulled Femi’s neck backwards, he was going to slit his throat, and that was when I heard it, the first shot, then the second, then the third.

Somto dropped in a heap, Amarachi stood there, gun in hand, with a look I had never seen before.

The cops rushed in, I passed out.

 Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Staircases And Cupcakes


image ofI was eleven when it happened, I can remember how it happened, because I was there when it happened.

It took me twenty four years to get here, and a lot of guts, but I think it’s time I got it off my chest.

I won’t pretend I grew up in a perfect home, and suddenly things went bad, for as long as I can remember, it was always the same, I grew up thinking all Fathers yelled, and all mothers cried.

Father was never happy, he always yelled, everything was always done wrong, and even when he did it wrong, he always found a way of blaming mother.

I saw him punch her, shove her, swear at her, but I never saw him hold her, hug her, kiss her, or even say anything nice to her.

It’s not a long story, just a brief sad story, of an eleven year old boy, a story that changed his life forever.

I just got back from school, I was in the kitchen eating, and as usual, mother would set my meal with the usual cupcake on the side, chocolate flavored, so I could eat immediately I got back from school, she never missed it, I still remember the smell of cake batter, she baked so much, the aroma was almost permanent, and even up until now as an adult, I always remember her, when I smell cake batter, among other things.

It was quite, unusually quiet, I didn’t think much of it, because I knew it was just a matter of time before father would get back, and he would find something to yell about.

He got back earlier than usual, I was just about biting into my cupcake, when he walked in, I remember losing my appetite, he walked passed me like I was not there, not that I cared, I was accustomed to it, he yelled out for mum, but he didn’t get any response, I knew she was asleep, she was pregnant, and it was hard for her to keep up with her daily routine, I didn’t bother checking up on her, because I knew she was a light sleeper, and I didn’t want to wake her up.

He yelled out again, and still yet no reply, I remained in the kitchen, and waited for it, I heard him walk up the stairs, I could tell he was mad, what else was new, suddenly I heard him yelling at her, I couldn’t quite make out the words, but I knew there were angry words, I left the kitchen, and made my way to the foot of the stairs, I stretched my neck, trying to hear what was being said, dad was yelling, and mum was trying to pacify him, suddenly he appeared at the top of the stairs, and stared right down at me, I felt a chill, this was not normal, “what are you looking at you stupid boy”, he said, don’t you have anything better to do than stuff your face with cakes? Your mother has made a girl out of you, am pretty sure you are the first boy who will have his period; those were things father said to me.

I let his words wash over me, but I didn’t move, I was accustomed to it, I think deep down he just needed to rave and rant all the time to give himself a sense of self-worth, mother emerged from the bedroom, and simply told him to leave me alone, and that was when it happened, he turned around and punched her in the face, he didn’t care if she was pregnant or not, she spun around, and used her elbows to shield her tummy from hitting the wall, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back, haven’t you done enough to ruin him, father said, why doesn’t he act like normal boys, and you dare tell me to leave him alone, he spoke about me like I wasn’t even there.

Mother tried to pacify him, he started shoving her, I saw her walking back, towards the head of the stairs, I tried to warn her she was too close to the edge, but his constant yelling drowned my words, she missed her step, I saw her fall, it was like an eternity, but while she fell, she tried to shield her stomach, I saw her fall, I heard bones crack, I saw her falling, and I was rooted to the spot, until she hit me, and we both landed on the floor, I hit my head, and when I opened my eyes, I saw her, lying down, she was staring at me, but was looking through me, suddenly I felt something sticky on my cheek, it was red, it was warm, it was her blood, and then I realized, she was dead, he pushed her, I passed out.

I didn’t see him anymore after that, I went to live with my uncle, years later he told me, my father left, started afresh, was arrested, but never convicted, ruled as a domestic accident, people fall down stairs all the time.

I still don’t understand why he was such a bitter person, mother didn’t deserve what he did to her, I haven’t spoken to him or seen he since that day, personally I see no point

I have moved on, am happy, have a family now, they give me joy, decided to share this, I don’t know how it will help, but am pretty sure it will.

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)



Dearest Soldier’s Wife,

If you are reading this, it means i am no longer with you, and sadly i will no longer be able to tell you how much i love you, but one thing that warms my heart is the simple fact that i can watch over you and the children, so let’s just say you are now connected in high places.

I can only imagine the look on your face right now, but you know me, i always need to make a joke, just to keep you smiling, i am so sorry i had to leave, and i know it must really be hard for you to understand, why i decided to choose my country over my family, trust me i asked myself that same question, but the only answer i got was that it was simply my calling.

My love, i know i never say this too often, probably because i feel you already know, but i am the luckiest man alive, i knew that marrying you would be my greatest achievement, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and i want you to always remember that.

I won’t pretend to know how you are feeling right now, or what you are going through, but i can assure you that with time, the pain will pass, and also take comfort in the fact that we shared a wonderful life together, no matter how brief it was, i am one of the lucky ones to be blessed with the sort of family i was given through you, and anytime you feel sad, and angry, just look at our children, there has to be some reflection of me there somewhere, and i know you don’t need to look to hard before you see it, tell them what type of a man their father was, remind them always why i had to leave.

Tell them that after you, they are the best things to ever happen to me, all three of them, tell Ikenna to please stop biting his nails, and to always remember to lace his boots properly before playing football, so he doesn’t trip over himself too much, always remind Habiba, to minimize her sugar intake, remember how you had to stay up all night some months ago because of her tooth ache, i know she is a brilliant girl and will grow up to be a great woman, and remind my little angel Aramide, whom i was, i know she is too young to remember me, but please tell her who i was, and remind all of them that i will be watching over them, and i promise not to let any harm come to them.

I love you with all my heart, and i apologize again for leaving you without warning, and i want you to know one thing, your happiness will always be my happiness, do not be afraid to be happy, never you feel it is selfish to want to be happy, simply because i am no longer with you, yes reading this letter, you may feel i have gone mad, and should not be talking about impossibilities, but trust me, and have faith in the fact that, joy and happiness will never be far from you.

I am glad to have spent the time God gave me with you and the children, and deep down inside i know you and the children have more happier days ahead, but always remember that i love you, and the kids more than life itself.

Your Husband


Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Dedicated to all our Fallen  Nigerian soldiers, fighting the good fight to keep us safe, and to all their families, left to mourn their loss, we pray for and with you, and we say thank you for the sacrifice.




priest%20(0-00-00-00)So much talk about rising up, a revolution and some say outright war getting everyone all riled you, and make lots of gullible folks feel, it’s all going to be fun and games, running into the streets, throwing rocks and bottles, and chanting a liberation song, yes in a movie with a script, it would be a very glorious scene, but here is where I burst that bubble, because it’s never a glorious scene when it comes to a confrontation.

Let’s take for instance, the little street protests that have been occurring in various parts of the country, although most of them have been relatively peaceful, they have not been without their mild confrontations from law enforcement agencies ordered by “the man”, and the protesters simply embarked on a peaceful movement, chanting and simply making their demands.

Now picture this, an angry crowd, with sticks, rocks, and petrol bombs, running in the streets, chanting a bone chilling mantra, against a so called oppressor, armed with guns, bombs, well in short armed with an army, a police force, an air-force, and a naval force, I really don’t think you need a soothsayer to tell you, that scenarios like that never end well.

Oh sure, asking for a revolution or war, sounds quite easy, you have a laid down plan, it starts with getting people on the streets, making a uniform demand, for things to get better, then there is eventually a standoff, but no one ever knows who fires the first shot, and most times the instigators are never in the fore front, they always give words like we are staying back on the base so we can be strategic for an effective outcome, so when the shots are fired, and the tear gas canisters are released into the crowds, they are conveniently absent, but also available to release press statements condemning their so called oppressors of inhumane treatment, but at that point it is already too late, the death toll now steadily begins to rise.

Let’s go back in time, let’s take a moment and remember the Nigerian civil war, and don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to trivialize anything, I am only trying to make a point, some groups felt they were being marginalized, treated unjustly, and decided to walk away, there was a standoff, and an eventual war broke out, at first the ideology was shared, the people stood behind their “Moses” who had come to lead them out of an oppressive system, but gradually, the realities of war began to take its toll, the hunger and strife, the homelessness, the destitution, the less than humane circumstances, the broken homes, the widows, the orphaned children, and death, whom in all cases takes a front seat to any gun show, while children with protruding stomachs were forced to eat lizards and mothers were forced to watch their children die of hunger, while women were raped and defiled, and while men/women/children were murdered, based on ethnic sentiments, the heroic generals were hulled up in a tent, conveniently tucked away from the front,being  strategists, or so they claimed, and when the center could no longer hold, they went into exile, leaving those they claimed to love and were fighting for, to face the bitter realities of what they had been dragged into, and this has always been the course of war histories, an ideologist rises up to a presumed oppressor, and drags hapless citizens into the mix, who bears the brunt of the casualties, and almost all the time, the ideologist exiles himself, and claims to continue the struggle, while he is safely tucked away in some foreign country, claiming asylum.

Now let’s go down memory lane one more time, and this time it will be quite brief, the devastations of war can never be totally described, unless you are made to see it for yourself, but I assure you, it’s never a site to behold, if you really want to see the after effects of war, look over there, yes just by oji river, and take a good look at the war veterans, whom after 40 odd years, are still feeling the effects of war, to some it might mean nothing, but to most it means a whole lot.

I won’t bore you with my ramblings, but I will tell you one thing, war has never solved anything, it only brings more problems, and more scars, I know the feeling of anger and frustration is rife, but we must consider the after effects, Rwanda still tries to heal years after, imagine having a public holiday just to mourn the victims of a genocide, and what started that war, a particular group claimed to have been poorly treated and proceeded on mass ethnic cleansing, we all know how it ended, our brothers in parts of the Arab world, started a revolution, it was welcomed, it had the appearances of a solution, but years later, they are seemingly back to where they started.

Those clamoring for a revolution, will never lead you like a gallant knight or general, they will only instigate and withdraw to their strategy rooms, they will flee at the very signs of a breakdown, and leave us to lick our wounds and bury our dead.

Go ahead, ask around, ask those who were old enough during the Nigerian civil war, raise a battle cry around them, and see how they stare at you with fear and pity in their eyes, go ahead and ask those who have been in the center of ethnic and religious clashes, tell them you want to fight, and watch then silently walk away from you, the bottom line is this, you only clamor for war, if you have never witnessed it firsthand.

Now, before I leave you, I just want to say a little something to those who keep throwing this sentence “let the nation split up” around, my question is this, do you really know what it takes for a nation to split up? What part of this nation of ours can beat its chest and say, this is what I have, and I can comfortably generate income from this, including the Niger delta, they are the oil providers, and yet, well let’s just say, over there, you can’t spot the difference between blood and crude oil, because both have been spilled so much.

Let’s go ahead and ask the soviet union, how the split up is working for them, or hey I know, let’s ask Yugoslavia, oh that’s right, there is no Yugoslavia, because they split up based on ethnic differences, and we don’t get to hear much about them anymore, or why don’t we send an email to the Sudanese people, let’s ask them how the split up is working for them.

I don’t want any wars, neither do I want this nation to split up, because both options will cause more harm than good, so before you get swept in the euphoria of revolution, do a little research into history, and educate yourself.

Oh, and one last thing, “beware the Greeks, when the bring gifts”.

 Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)


20140508-094414We are all aware of the situations plaguing this nation, and one of such getting direct and immediate attention is that of the terrorist group known as Boko Haram, yes they have unleashed so much terror in our hearts, and it has gotten to the point where we can no longer sit, and say “God will do it”.

They have killed innocent men, women and children, and have done so without any repercussions what so ever, and with that they took their malicious practices one step further, by kidnapping a group of young girls, from an educational institution, late at night, if you say cowards, then yes I will agree with you, and that was what it seems finally broke the proverbial camel’s back. It has caused so much outrage, and so much disgust, that almost everyone around the globe, has joined the #BRINGBACKOURGIRLS train, am pretty sure you are wondering why I say almost everyone, well I’ll tell you, because that’s the main reason why I am writing this.

We heard of the kidnap, long before now, and silently we hoped by some cosmic intervention, we would hear the girls had been found, and for a fleeting moment, we received word that the girls had been rescued by our knights in shiny armor, but that would prove later to be a false piece of information, and this got everyone talking, and the simple question that raged in our minds was, WHY WOULD THEY CHOOSE TO LIE ABOUT SUCH A THING?

We were expected to swallow this lie, and move on, and with time, forget about who was kidnapped, when and where, but alas, the questions refused to go calmly into the night, and suddenly there were more questions, and attention shifted to CHIBOK, BORNO state, the scene of that heinous crime, where more questions were asked, with very little answers, shrouded with a lot of secrecy , we read and watched as different parties played the blame game, but little did they know that this time, the questions would soon turn to demands.

The birth of the hashtag #BRINGBACKOURGIRLS was born, and it quickly gained global recognition, and so did the various questions on the sincerity of the whole kidnap saga, it is worthy to note at this point, that opinions are the sole property and prerogative of the holder, but it becomes difficult to grasp the various sorts of ideologies different people are walking around it, don’t worry I will attempt to expatiate.

A group of girls were kidnapped, and the news broke, we were all appalled at first, then there was fear, then we waited for a reaction from the helm, but to our surprise, the reaction was obviously coming either from china or Australia, because it was taking forever, and soon our fear turned to anger, and anger birthed demands, and during that period, we woke up to the sounds of bombs, killing more innocent citizens, and this was the last straw, it became clear at that point that it would no longer be business as usual, suddenly without being told in a village meeting, we all realized it was our right to demand for protection, for freedom, enough was enough, but while I wanted to believe that we all stood with one voice, the reality was quite clear, that we did not.

When the girls were kidnapped, lots of people demanded answers from the school authorities, at least to know whom we were demanding their release, this was to prove abortive, because a pictorial confirmation of the kidnapped girls was not forth coming, and this began raising doubts and suspicions as to the viability of the claims that the girls were actually kidnapped, but then, we were made privy to a list of the kidnapped girls, and for a moment, we all were beginning to wrap our minds around the fact that this could actually be true, but as usual it only lasted for a moment, and the “Oliver Twist” card was placed on the table, we wanted more, and again the questions began to fly around, “who are the parents of these girls”, the demand to see the parents of these girls, alongside pictures of the missing girls was gathering momentum, and while these questions were being asked, others who were certain these girls were missing, took to the streets, with placards, and chatting the already popular slogan BRING BACK OUR GIRLS, by this time it had already gone global, but even with that, the questions of doubt were still being raised.

It is worthy to note that, before the arrival of the international press, there had been no prior interviews conducted with the parents of the missing girls, but when they arrived, they headed straight for CHIBOK and sought out those parents who were willing to come forward, at this point one would think that, here was enough evidence to put Thomas at ease, but alas, it was not, more questions came up, why are their faces being hidden, it is staged, but those asking the questions simply forgot that these parents were still in CHIBOK, the very place where the group had taken these girls from, those asking the questions failed to realize that the lives of these parents, and that of their loved ones were still at stake.

The questions raged on, and the protests continued, the international community by this time was fully involved, now I won’t bore you with details on that.

The part that baffles me the most is, when you ask certain questions, think, and consider all the factors, before asking, is it fair to assume the whole world would be in on this elaborate hoax, and to what end?

Two videos were released within days of themselves, the first claiming responsibility for the kidnap, and after the first was released, we demanded to see the girls as evidence of the kidnap, and surely enough, another video was released, showing the girls gathered in a group, once again one would safely assume that finally, everything was now out in the open, but alas, again Thomas decided to question the integrity of the video.

I have seen lots of comments on Facebook and on twitter, and some were even bold enough to say, the video showing the girls was a staged fiasco, something created to undermine the Govt of the day, some say the girls were looking to fresh to be kidnapped, and others say it’s a video carved from and Islamic school, and I ask this question again, why would the whole world connive just to undermine one Govt?

It leads me to wonder, after the bomb blasts in Abuja, why were these same questions not asked? Why didn’t Thomas claim that some popular movie directors were invited to stage those blasts, and all the corpses we saw littered everywhere were just props, and the blood and shattered glass was the hand work of highly talented makeup artists, and special effects geniuses.

Why is the kidnap of over 200 girls, a cause for doubt?

I wonder, how some sit in the comfort of wherever it is they are, and claim the kidnap is a big lie, when lives are involved, if the kidnap is a big lie, then you can also go a step further and claim, all those that have been killed in the various attacks over the past years, have all been a lie, and their deaths were staged.

It’s a sad day to realize that we have lost our sense of humanity, simply because Thomas is struggling day and night to be the one to say “I told you so”, but this time, Jesus won’t be around to offer you his hands so you can put your fingers through it and believe.

If you cannot allow yourself, the heart to watch the video, and look into the eyes of that scared girl, as she struggled with her courage to stand there and speak, then I fear hope is gradually being lost, but the hope is still alive, because Thomas is just one out of the twelve, and the eleven left constitute the other Nigerians, who give their time, and the rest of the world who have given their voices in one way or the other, to make a demand to BRING BACK OUR GIRLS.

In closing, whatever your beliefs might be, I say this, out there somewhere, there are a frightened group of girls, without a voice, who need us now more than ever, we should all endeavor to drop the tribal, religious and political sentiments, and demand that they be rescued, and this menace be clipped and disposed of once and for all.

Written By- Arome Ameh (The Priest)


sneakRemember the days when you would drive or walk down to her house and wait less hours until the coast was clear just so you could spend five (5) minutes with her?

Remember when you would spend endless hours on the phone with her, talking about anything and everything, your phone was always loaded, and in most cases you would ensure hers’ was loaded with call credit, just in case the network would not permit for voice calls, then you would easily switch to text messaging?

Remember how long it took you to work up the courage, just to meet her parents, and remember all the assurances of love and loyalty you gave to them, just to make them trust you?

Remember when you finally decided to propose?

Remember how you felt when she said yes?

Remember your wedding day?

Remember your vows?

Remember your wedding night? (wink)

Remember all those days when you couldn’t wait to get off work, just so you could rush home and be with her?

Remember how beautiful she always looked, even when she just got out of bed?

Remember how she listened to all your jokes, and laughed, even at the ones others never found funny?

Remember how she suddenly became a sports lover, just so she could share your moments with you?

Remember how she supported all your dreams and aspirations?

Remember when she was the “ONLY” woman you wanted and desired?

Now my dear friend, its barely two(2) years, and you don’t remember to call her, and tell her how much you love her, now you hardly remember to send her text messages, off course you still do send messages, but none ever get to her phone, now you don’t even remember to tell her how stunning she looks in that new dress, or how lovely her new hair do is.

Suddenly, she just doesn’t mean that much to you anymore.

Suddenly, you realize that she snores in bed, and always takes up too much space.

Suddenly, you begin to notice how she likes to “CUDDLE” too much.

Suddenly you realize she doesn’t cap the toothpaste after she uses it.

Suddenly you realize she is putting on too much weight, and it annoys you (even after baring you a child)

Suddenly you developed a sour taste for that egusi soup you always loved so much, and could eat for days without end, and you decide to adopt a new phrase “IS THIS ALL WE HAVE TO EAT IN THIS HOUSE”.

Suddenly, work becomes more tedious after normal working hours.

Suddenly, you prefer to spend most of your weekends with the “BOYS”.


Now, someone else is taking your attention.

Now you feel you have something better going for you.

Now you feel you have a more sophisticated woman in your life.

Now you feel you have a more submissive woman, to cater to all yours whims and desires.


BUT WAIT……………………..

Do you really believe this other woman is a better alternative?

Do you actually feel there is room for comparison?

Do you honestly believe your own lies and justifications?


You walk around with a ring on your finger, the other woman clearly sees this, she knows what it symbolizes, and yet she agrees to sneak around with you

She knows you have a family at home, and yet pretends to be your quantum of solace, she pretends to give you a safe haven from your self induced and assumed problems.

Ask yourself this simple question, if she is willing to run around with you, if she is willing to destroy the home you built with your wife, then what possible future do you have with her.

After all is said, and all the excuses are made, the bottom line is simple, all you get from her is sex.

Why go out for sex, when you can make passionate love to your wife, a woman who has given you her mind, body and soul, with no price tag attached to it.

Why don’t you see your wife for who she is, and in case you don’t know who she is, I’ll tell you, she is the woman you fell in love with.

So my dear friend, before you pick the easy route, which will lead you to more sorrow and pain.

Try to remember your wife, who she was, who she is, and who she will always be to you.

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)




woman-walking-awayIn the morning he woke up, dressed up and left for work without saying a word, needless to say he untied me before he left, I lay on the bed with my face in the sheets, and I cried, I cried so hard my lungs and throat hurt, I only raised my head when the nanny came in, I quickly shut my room door and gave her instructions on what to do with keji.

I went into the bathroom, and tried to clean myself up the best I can, I had a swollen lip, and a slight cut above my right eye, so I applied some make up, and moved out of the house quickly so as to avoid the nanny………….,this time I was angry and I hated myself for crying, I had to take a stand, so my first stop was the hospital to get myself checked.

I got to the hospital and asked to see matron tamasi, she was shocked when she saw me, she could only just control herself from screaming, she scolded me and threatened to call the police, but I assured her that this time, I had it all under control,”Mrs Gboye she said, I beg you with everything you hold dear, leave that man, he is going to kill you eventually, think of the child you have now, do you want her exposed to such a life, hasn’t she been through enough”, those words sent a shiver down my spine, and at that very moment I realized it was not just about me anymore, it was about me and keji, and this time I was going to put a stop to it.
The next thing I did was get a new number and called amarachi, I told her everything that had happened, naturally she was outraged, but I calmed her down, told her everything was going to be alright, you see, at the point I had an unusually calm demeanor, I was not going to make any hasty decisions, my exit had to be perfect, and I was formulating a plan.

All I needed was one perfect opportunity to execute my plan, and while I waited I began to strategize on the best way to pay lawani back for all the years of pain and suffering, I know I can’t get those years back, but I was going to make him pay. I did a lot of research and my plan was taking shape, it was only a matter of time.

On the 15th of September 2010,the opportunity presented itself, it was a hard opportunity, but I was willing to make the sacrifice, Myself and keji were driving back from a weeknight church service when I decided to stop for ice cream; we pulled into an eatery, which made us 20 minutes late getting home. Lawani had gone out looking for us, and when he returned home, fully aware of this infraction and furious, he ordered me to take keji to bed.

Then, for several hours, lawani punished me, telling me,
“I’m going to do this until you pass out”.

“Then I’m going to take you out to a secluded place, slit your throat, and no one will ever know what happened”.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, after struggling on the bed, we fell in a heap onto the floor, and a burst of searing pain shot up my back; i could barely move. I was in such agony that Lawani had to lift me back onto the bed for our ritual makeup sex. Even then, he ordered me to get on top.

The level of violence he reached that night was like nothing I’d ever experienced,” “I didn’t know what he was capable of doing beyond that, and I didn’t want to find out.”

He fell asleep after we were done ,and I got off the bed and prepared some breakfast for him, but before I left the room, I took one last look at him, and for the first time I smiled, and walked out.

I prepared his breakfast and brought it to him in bed, I woke him up gently and whispered how sorry I was in his ear, yes I was the submissive wife, you see after years of abuse, lawani had taught me how switch between characters with the greatest of ease.

He rose up, looked at me and said “you see how easy life can be if you behave yourself, and with that he ate and took his coffee, when he was done he stood up and tried to walk to the bathroom, I could see he stumbled a bit, but he probably thought it was due to what had transpired the night before, I went downstairs, and called out to him to come take a look at some things I had for him, I was standing at the foot of the stairs, he walked to the head of the stairs looking very stunned, his eyes were a bit swollen and he could hardly support himself, knowing lawani the way I did, I knew his ego would never allow him admit he was weak, and so he attempted to walk down the stairs, and that’s when it happened, he missed the first step, and he came tumbling down in a heap, I watched him roll down the stairs and I didn’t move an inch, I could hear his bones crack as he hit each stair and he landed right in front of me, he was conscious but could not move, I stared at him for a minute, I could see the look of both pain and surprise in his eyes, he attempted to say something, but I quickly put a polythene bag over his head and watched him choke until he passed out, I checked his pulse, he was still alive, so I quickly ran up the stairs, picked keji up from her bed and came back down, he was still unconscious, so I picked up my phone and called the hospital, I explained what had happened and an ambulance was sent over.

Lawani was taken to the hospital, and we followed behind in my car, I called my mother and told her what had happened, so she met us at the hospital and took keji home.

The doctors confirmed he had a broken spine, he was paralyzed from the neck down, they had also carried out a scan of his head, noticed some swelling in the brain and confirmed he had suffered partial brain damage, to put it mildly, my dearest lawani had been reduced to nothing but a semi-vegetable, and in my assumed form of panic, I asked what the implications were, and I was informed that he would probably be in need of external care for the rest of his natural life, unless a miracle happened, don’t hold your breath, miracles don’t happen for demons.

I walked out of the hospital a few days later, with a sigh of relief, for the first time in a very long time, I could feel the rays of the sun, and the cool air blowing around me, don’t judge me, and was I happy, you damn right I was.
Lawani was in the hospital for a couple of months, he showed very little signs of improvement, you could tell he understood everything that went on around him, but was powerless to do anything about it.

Shortly before he was discharged from the hospital, I came into his room, and sat beside him, bent over and kissed him on the fore head and told him how he got here.

”I loved you lawani, I gave up my womanhood for you, I gave up my sanity and my humanity for you, I gave you my life, and all you gave me in return was horror and sorrow, this was no accident my dear husband, remember when I served you breakfast in bed, after that night when you chocked me and turned me into a common whore, that night made me realize no amount of love was worth all the abuse, so I slipped some pancuronium bromide into your coffee, don’t bother asking how I got it, desperate times called for desperate measures, but you were too blind and proud to realize something was wrong with you, I watched you fall, and with every crack of your bones it was like a chain being broken from my life, I put the bag over your head for just the right amount of time to knock you out, you see lawani I had done my research, killing you was going to be too easy for you, so I did this instead, and well I guess mother luck was on my side, I want you to re-live the horror you put me through these past 5 years, I want you to have a taste of hell, before you actually go there, you are my dear husband, ”for better or for worse” remember”?

Thank you for giving me keji, she made it all worth it, you are nothing but an animal lawani, a coward, a vile being, and I will savor every moment of your pain and suffering, I will watch you soil yourself, and I will watch you be the helpless little man you really are, your tears will be like nectar to me, and your pain will be like cold water on my skin”.

I walked out of the room……..and signed his discharge papers.

These days life has returned back to normal, keji is growing up healthy and strong, my ad agency is doing very well, I don’t look over my shoulder anymore, I still have nightmares once in a while, but I know it will pass, as for lawani, he is kept upstairs with his nurse who attends to him, and every now and then I walk up to his room and stare at him for minutes, I smile and walk away.

My name is Ifeoluwa ,and that was my story.

Written by Arome Ameh ( The Priest)

Read part 1 HERE

Read part2 HERE

Read part3 HERE

Arome Ameh Launches New Website- www.inamehswords.com








Lagos, NigeriaArome Ameh will launch his new website http://www.inamehswords.com, a website devoted to the advocacy against domestic violence, rape and abuse in all its, and also aimed at every individual, man, woman and even child, who have been victims, who are survivors, and basically anyone who wants to know more about domestic violence, child abuse and rape, through the personal stories and interviews shared on the new site, on Monday April 14th 2014. Continue Reading

Also read my interview with Estreet TV HERE


wpid-domestic-violence-woman-hiding-300.jpgEach time i returned to him, my decision was confirmed as a good one, because i was rewarded not just with a temporary peace, but with the return of the man i’d fallen in love with. “We’d have this honeymoon period where he was nice to me again. I couldn’t help myself; I fell for it,”.

Lawani would come straight home from work, sometimes with flowers in hand, “and we’d have family time. He’d crack us up and laugh. Or we’d work around the house…all the things that happen in a normal home.”

Most important, He doted on Me. There were date nights followed by lovemaking, with Lawani holding me all night long. “I got enough of a glimpse of what a normal life could be like,” Look, he can be a family man; we can do this,” I’d say to myself.

Amarachi at this point was very upset with me,she was the only one I had told about the abuse,and she kept urging me to leave him,”do you want to wait until we come get you out of there in a body bag”she’d say,I was a woman still intent on saving my marriage,what amarachi advised only made me foolish,and I began to alienate myself from her and others,even my own parents,in my mind at the time they were the enemy,my justification was that they didn’t know lawani the way I did,they basically didn’t understand,my mum had visited once and discovered some swelling on my chin,she expressed concern and I simply told her we had an argument and I had provoked lawani too much,and when she insisted on having a talk with him,I was quick to remind her not to meddle in the affairs of my home.She in turn spoke to amarachi about it,and well amarachi being the hot head she was,came to my house and confronted lawani,oh how I wish she had’t done that,because after she left he felt very upset and humiliated,and yes you guessed right,I payed for it.

That night after amarachi had left, Lawani had tied my hands behind my back and punched me in the stomach for three hours. Afterward, I crawled to the bathroom and vomited blood,i managed to drive myself to the hospital,there I met the matron on duty,Matron Tamasi, I came in stooped and limping, showed the matron the evidence of my beating,my arms bruised black from wrist to elbow, a belly the color of a rotting plum.

He could’ve killed you!” the matron exclaimed. i knew she was right. And when, one month later, another fight began brewing in our house,the matron’s words reverberated in my head and prompted me to run across the street and call my friend to pick me up.

It was the third time I left.

I stayed away with Amarachi for about a month. But while my life was free from abuse, it wasn’t peaceful. Lawani was a constant: badgering me, surprising me when i least expected it, and — perhaps worst of all — threatening to discontinue our adoption process,don’t judge me,I wanted a child so badly so I was willing to put up with as much crap just to get a child,and somewhere in my mind,I believed with the arrival of the child,things might get better,I mean children are supposed to be blessings right? At the same time, he was trying to woo me back by asking me out on dates and by renovating our home exactly the way i’d wanted, even hanging up my cherished family photos. “I got a glimpse of the person I married: the romance, the hugs and sweet things.

Meanwhile, my friend never complained about hosting me, but she were clearly on edge — especially when lawani would call to accuse her of breaking up his home. As time passed, I felt like a burden on amarachi. In despair, i went to a shelter to explore my options and was dismayed to learn it would only be able to house me for 30 days. “Then what?” I asked the counselor, who had no reply. I couldn’t see a way out.

Here I was with no job and no life. “And then here’s my husband, with our beautifully remodeled house and all the things from the life we had built, and he’s saying, ‘You can have all this if you come back,so i meekly called lawani to say i was moving back in — feeling “scared to death, sick to my stomach, frightened out of my mind, and hopeful that things were going to change” — i made note of a valuable lesson i’d learned.

My arrival back home was greeted with a very familiar “seize fire” regime,lawani was all over me,doting as usual and being the “perfect man”,but this time I was very careful not to be taken in by the his usual tricks and pageantry.

I would stare at him for a while and try to read him,he had mastered the art of switching himself on and off at will,it was like he had the jerkyl and hyde syndrome,one minute he was this big teddy bear,appeared not being able to hurt a fly,the next moment he’d transform into a rabid wolf,foaming at the mouth,treating me like prey,”yes that was the only logical way to describe my husband.

I woke up to lawani smiling over me,looking like a little boy in a toy store,he asked me to come downstairs,saying Christmas had come early this year,I put on my robe and followed him downstairs,and when I got downstairs I was stunned,my legs went limp,I half expected they would give out under me,sitting in the living room was a woman,but she was not alone,she was holding a little girl,she was 14months old,my heart skipped a beat,I turned and looked at him,he smiled and said “congratulations it’s a girl”.

The lady I later discovered was from an orphanage and lawani had pushed the adoption process faster and we had gotten this little girl,this little angel,this wonderful innocent human being,I took a step towards them and stopped to check myself as if to be sure I was’t dreaming,I moved closer,picked her up,held her close to me and turned to lawani and said “her name is Morenikeji-which means I have found a companion,he smiled and accepted the name,I refused to put her down,as if putting her down would be the end of life itself,it was a wonderful feeling,I didn’t care that I was not her birth mother,but the thought of her being my child was the best feeling I had in a very long time,once the documents were signed and the lady left,lawani and I took keji(shortened) upstairs and spent the whole day getting to know her.

Life seemed to stabilize for a while,so far this was the longest stretch of peace I had experienced in a while,lawani even agreed to let me start my own ad consulting agency,things were looking up,or so I thought.

Then the worst happened,I had a meeting with a client,he came in later than the agreed time,so I stayed out later than usual,after the meeting I raced home,because I had left keji with the nanny,immediately I drove into the house I saw lawani’s car parked outside,fear enveloped me,I tried to compose myself,I knew something was wrong,I walked into the house,the nanny was gone,lawani and keji were in the living room watching a cartoon on television,I started to talk when lawani dismissed me with his hand,I made my way to the kitchen,everywhere was spotless,my heart was racing,I thought it was going to explode in my chest,I made my way to the bedroom to change,and when I came out I saw lawani taking keji to bed.

I went downstairs and waited for lawani,and while I waited for him to come back down I said a short prayer “O lord my father,if what I am passing through is not from you,have mercy on me,deliver me,save me,have mercy on me”.

Lawani walked calmly into the living room,sat across from me,stared directly at me and he lips parted and the words I dreaded came out,”where have you been”,I began explaining what had transpired during my meeting and what had caused the delay,he seemed to be getting relaxed up until the point I mentioned the client was a man,his eyes went dark and he jumped up, and in a split second he was beside me,and before I could blink he had hit me across the face,the impact sent me tumbling over,he pulled me up by my hair and punched me in the face,I stumbled over again,begging him to stop,this enraged him the more,he called me a harlot,and hit me again,this time I tasted blood,suddenly from the corner of my eye I saw him pick up something from the table,he struck my head……………..i passed out.

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)


You can view PT1 HERE

You can view PT2 HERE


Hello all,

The appeal below was recently brought to my attention, and i couldn’t help but assist in posting this, in many occasions we find our selves in situation we have been unable to explain, and this is one of those moments, Mobolaji Adeyemi is not the worst man on earth, but he has been dealt a serious blow in form of a rare type of cancer, which has already claimed his upper jaw, now i quite understand your skepticism as you read this, but at the end of this appeal you will find various contact information for verification purposes, please read to the end.

 Thank You.     



It is with great expectation that I make this passionate appeal to you for financial support towards footing the medical bills for ‘Bolaji Adeyemi’ – my husband, who recently underwent surgery for adenocarcinoma, a rare form of cancer that led to the dissection of his neck and removal of his upper jaw. The operation was conducted in early May 2013 at the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital (LASUTH), Lagos, Nigeria. Since then, he has not been able to feed well or talk properly. Apart from causing extreme discomfort, this has placed significant constraint on his ability to fulfil his roles in various capacities.

Bolaji, Before the surgery

Bolaji, Before the surgery

Bolaji After The surgery

Bolaji After The surgery

Mobolaji Adeyemi is 35 years old and finished from University of Ibadan , Nigeria in 2005,as a crop protection and environmental Biology  graduate.He oversees a growing church founded by him and works as an educational consultant .He has a strong passion for youth and national development . Since the ailment began, we have spent over ten thousand dollars (over 1.6 million naira) on various lab tests, surgery, transportation, radiotherapy, chemotherapy and other expenses.

During the surgery

During the surgery

The bulk of this was donated by friends, family and well wishers. Now, we need another twenty-five thousand dollars (25,000 USD) to take him through reconstruction surgery so that he can regain the use of his mouth and resume his normal life as a responsible citizen. This is why we crave your assistance, as we have not been able to raise the needed funds for the operation which was earlier scheduled to take place within the third and fourth weeks of November 2013 at Apollo Hospital in Ahmedabad, India.

Painfully, the surgery has been delayed until now due to insufficient funds. Meanwhile, we have incurred other expenses in maintaining his health and taking him through some other medical processes to boost his immunity and restore certain cells that were affected by the therapies.We are counting on your kindness to meet this financial requirement which covers consultancy fees and anaesthesia, surgical fees by the chief consultant and two assisting surgeons, post operation care/treatment, various laboratory tests as well as therapy after operation. It also includes cost of obtaining visa, feeding and moderate accommodation covering three good months. It will be a great relief to us if you would graciously help us to offset these bills to whatever degree.  

Please Find Below Scanned Copies Of Some Of Mobolaji Adeyemi’s Medical Documents

bolaji medics


scan0006-231x300You can also visit  http://philipamiola.org/pastorbolaji/ for more information.

Please send your donations to the accounts provided below: 

Bank: Guaranty Trust Bank (GTB)Account name: Adeyemi Mobolaji Adam

Current Account number: 0139375111

Dollar Account number: 0139375582

Swift Code: GTBINGLABranch Sort Code: 058152489 

We would gladly provide more information as you may require. We pray that the good Lord will perfect all that concerns you and use you to provide succour for us at this crucial time. Thanks in anticipation of your swift response and generous contribution.  

Yours faithfully, 

Titilayomi Adeyemi (Mrs) 0805-731-0451

Email- nigeriawfa@yahoo.om         

You can also follow Mrs Titilayo Adeyemi on Twitter- @ADAMADEY

Kindly Ensure you call the above listed numbers for further clarification and to clear any doubts. Thank you.                                    


Story also published by The Nation Newspaper HERE


 wpid-sad_black_woman.jpgI left the hospital on my own, without notifying anyone, even lawani.I called a friend outside lagos and she offered to accommodate me, I was really messed up, I was angry, sad, scared and confused all at the same time,and I could not bring myself to tell amarachi, my childhood friend what had happened,mostly because I could not believe it myself,how was I going to tell her my husband beat me up,ruptured my womb,and killed our unborn baby.

I finally summoned up enough courage and told amarachi what had happened,but I was careful to leave out a lot of details,amarachi was enraged and urged me to stay as long as I needed,I had a lot of missed calls and text messages from family members and also from lawani himself,my mum was getting very worried so amarachi had to inform her of my whereabouts,unfortunately lawani was informed too,I don’t really blame them,they did’t know what was going on.

I cowered in amarachi’s bedroom closet, practically afraid to breathe. I knew my husband, lawani, would come looking for me sooner or later, and now he’d finally arrived. Have you heard from her? I heard lawani ask amarachi,who feigned ignorance.

In reality, i had been hiding out there for 4 days, ever since the incident with lawani,i had spent the previous couple of days figuring out what to do next.

Now, from the darkness of the closet, i listened as lawani began to cry. I don’t know where she is, he wept to my friend. I’m so worried. The sound of lawani’s sobbing gave me satisfaction — but also flooded me with sympathy.

He sounded so miserable.

I was flattered to realize how devastated he was by my leaving; it was proof that he really did care. I returned home the next day.

Yep, I went back for more,It wouldn’t be the last time. Over my 3-year marriage to lawani, i fled again and again, with each return plunging me into more horrifying abuse.

Let’s see: I’ve been gagged, tied up, and beaten. Stripped naked in the house.

I’ve had a gun pulled on me, and knives held to my throat. The abuse got pretty wicked. And yet, despite the violence — which was so extreme that a nurse once warned me, “On a danger-level scale of one to 10, you’re an 11” — but I kept going back.

You might wonder why on God’s green earth I kept going back,put your self in my shoes,I married lawani as a woman,less than a year into our marriage,I lost my pregnancy and also the major component that defines me as a woman,I lost the very essence of motherhood to the man I loved,after the incident lawani and I had a long deep talk,he begged and apologized for what he had done,looking deep into his eyes,he was genuinely sorry,he even convinced me we could adopt a child,he spoiled me at the slightest opportunity,and yes being a human being I gradually began to forget .

He made me quit my job,reason being that he wanted me to adjust to the role of home maker in preparation for the arrival of our so called adopted child,on the surface it appeared to be a genuine reason,but he was slowly isolating me.

Lawani began making excuses for not coming home right after work, sometimes staying out all night drinking.
Stranded at home,i burned with resentment and hurt. “We did everything together ,at some point we were best friends.But gradually, he basically disappeared.

Lawani was not much fun to be around anymore: He needled Me about what i had done each day — whom i had seen, what we’d discussed — peppering our conversation with barbs, telling me that the dinner I had cooked was awful, calling me fat and dumb.

One night, Lawani surprised me by coming home early from a party. “What, the party wasn’t good enough for you?” I asked jokingly. Lawani backhanded me across the face. “What I do is my business,” he snarled.

“It was like he was talking to a dog. He ordered me to apologize for smarting off”.

I stared at him, my cheek stinging. I was filled with shock, fear — and also an overwhelming shame. Here was the man i loved, whose regard for me was so important, and now he was looking at me with contempt, I just wanted this ugly moment to end, to make the hurt and fear and humiliation go away. And so, although i knew i had done nothing wrong, i apologized. It took at least an hour of groveling to convince lawani i was truly sorry. “All right, I’ll forgive you this time,” lawani wearily said to me.

Then he led me into the bedroom for makeup sex. “I had to turn off my brain to get through it.

In the morning, lawani was back to his playful self — cracking jokes while we dressed for church, looking handsome as he combed his hair into a neat wave, I smeared foundation onto my bruised cheek and resolved to move on, after all, i rationalized, i wasn’t going to leave. i still loved him and was going to stick it out — if not for my own sake, then for the sake of our marriage. “I wanted the best for us,and our soon to be adopted child.

This decision may seem hard to fathom, but in fact, i was using an emotional logic many of us can relate to.

In any relationship, we try to make things work out, you later look back and say, I wish I’d broken up with him sooner. So i kept the episode to myself. I certainly didn’t want anyone to know the truth about me now: that i was the kind of woman who’s got slapped and stayed.

Shame is a huge factor, modern women are meant to be independent, and if someone does something like that to you, it’s over.

No one wants to be known as the woman who puts up with it.”

I assured myself the worst was over. It wasn’t: Lawani began accusing Me of all manner of sins — lying, cheating, not serving his meals quickly enough — and his slaps turned to all-night beatings.

His favorite thing was to sit on my chest and hold a pillow over my face, he’d scold me, “If you hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” i heard his message loud and clear.

I was to blame for the violence; peace would be restored if only i would submit to his demands. So i did my best. “I still loved him, and I was sure I could fix this.

So I tried to be the perfect wife.

In case you missed part one, view it here Jaws Of Death- The Ifeoluwa Story PT1

Also kindly view my press release HERE

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)



Ife-Story.jpgI woke up with a start, I felt constrained ,I couldn’t move, I knew my eyes were open, but I couldn’t see anything, suddenly I began to panic, a deep seeded fear arose from within me, the first thing that came to my mind was death, was I dead? Was I in a small confined box? What was happening,i tried to move my wrists and feet, but it was difficult, with every jerk I felt a sharp pain, like something cutting into my skin, then I realized I was tied up, and once again another wave of panic enveloped me, why was I tied up, suddenly I heard the door open and the lights came on, the rays of the light hit my eyes and this made me squint, he stood above me, fire beaming from his eyes, an object in his hand, I couldn’t make out what it was, suddenly he bent over and spat in my face, he emptied some liquid on my chest and my crotch, from the smell I realized it was alcohol, he put a knife to my neck, then he raped me.

My name is Ifeoluwa, and I am about to let you into my world, well my world as it was before now.

Life wasn’t always this messed up, I had dreams and aspirations, no woman or man goes into a marriage with the mind set of being unhappy,Lawani and I met under normal circumstances, not a fairy tale, but it was nice, we worked together in the same ad agency and we spent a lot of time together as colleagues first, then friends and slowly it graduated into a real relationship, he never showed signs of aggression, we dated for about 7months before he asked me to marry him, and I immediately said yes without hesitation.

“Thinking back now, I should have probably hesitated, set him on fire and took to my heels”.

I guess the problems started 4months into our marriage, well I wouldn’t call it a problem because everything was OK, we had everything we needed and wanted, and we had a baby on the way, but lawani was just different, he complained about everything, even the smallest things, he complained about my cooking, my hair do, sometimes he complained when I even touched him, initially I would ask and ask what the problem was, but then he’d fly into a rage and storm out of the house, bear in mind these were just mini tantrums, but the first major one happened on the 3rd of October 2005.

We just got back from the hospital,because I had pains all through the night,we left the house quite early to see the doctor because I was worried about the baby,well the doctor confirmed I was OK and just needed bed rest for a couple of days,well we got home and immediately lawani demanded for something to eat,naturally I was not myself,my hormones were raging,I had nausea and I just couldn’t go anywhere near food,so I simply told him to fix himself a plate,stating why I couldn’t do it,and without warning he slapped me on the face,and I hit my head on the center table,he just went off,saying a lot of things,said he had been watching me,and was disgusted at how lazy I had become,if I knew then what I know now,I would have kept my mouth shut,I tried to stand up and explain why I said what I said,and he pounced on my punching and kicking,he kicked me so hard,I felt my womb rupture,he beat me up,he didn’t stop until he noticed I was bleeding,I passed out and I woke up in the hospital,he had already told the hospital staff a made up story about how we were attacked by robbers,he begged me to go with it,I was ashamed and so I went with it,I lost the baby,and the doctor later told me I had lost my womb.

Yes at this point a lot of you would be screaming blue murder,but keep your comments for now,my story is just unfolding.

Kindly view my press release HERE

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Shot Dead by Policeman For Trying To Prevent Domestic Violence-Dedicated To “MURI”

A 30-year-old first class graduate of Economics from
Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, Moses Murtala Aminu,
has been shot dead by a policeman.

The victim had left his 67, Ahmadu Ahijo Street, Narayi-
High cost family residence last week Sunday full of life
for a party at Barnawa , Kaduna, but could not return
home as he was killed by a police constable.

His friend and eyewitness stated
that the police constable identified as Alex Okpe was
beating up his girlfriend outside the venue of the party
and when Murtala tried to intervene, he got angry and
pulled out his gun from his jeans trousers and fired
straight into his heart.

According to an eyewitness who spoke
under anonymity, after Murtala was shot dead, the
police constable then fired again in the air twice to
scare the people around and escaped on his motorcycle.

Moses Andrew, a friend who was with Muri, as he was
popularly called, at the Time Out Lounge party venue in
Barnawa, narrated that there was pandemonium after
Muri was shot and Okpe, the policeman, had escaped.

“We were confused while trying to revive Muri, when a
guy informed us that he knows a friend to Okpe’s
girlfriend that had left the party for a club called X-One
at Barnawa,” Andrew said.

According to him, they quickly moved to X-One and
fortunately met her there.

“We picked the lady who identified the policeman who
killed Muri as Alex Okpe, and that he serves at Kakuri
Police Station but deployed to guard Nigerian Breweries
Plc.,” Andrew added.

It was learn t that the killer policeman was later
tracked down and arrested by officers from Barnawa
Police Division after the case was reported there.

Kaduna State Police Commissioner, Femi Adenaike,
who confirmed the incident, said it was
true Alex Okpe was arrested and during interrogation
confessed to have killed Murtala Aminu at a party

Adenaike said Okpe claimed in his statement that he
fired at Muri in “self defense” when he and his friends
were trying to fight him over his girlfriend.

He said the police didn’t send Okpe to Barnawa at that
time and if he is found guilty, he would be dismissed and
taken to court for trial.

“The suspect is in the cell and we have commenced
investigation. And if he is found guilty, we will give him
an in-house trial and summary dismissal so that he can
face the law for homicide,” the state police boss said.

Adenaike urged the family of the deceased to remain
calm as the police are doing everything possible to
investigate the case and ensure justice is done.

The blind father of the late Muritala, Muhammad Jimoh,
told journalists at press conference at their High-Cost
residence that as a Muslim he’s taught to accept the
death of his son and bread winner as an act of God.

But he said if his son had to die, it should not be in the
hands of a policeman who should have been responsible
for protecting him.

“Yes my son, a first class economist for that matter and
our hope, is dead, but I want justice done in this case,”
Aminu said.

Until Murtala Aminu’s death, he was the youth leader,
Catholic Holy Family Church, Barnawa.
He also owned a shawamar and roasted fish outlet at

This Article is dedicated to Murtala Aminu, a young man of quality, who was murdered while trying to protect another human from violence, he payed with his life, he was cut down by the very people who are saddled with the responsibility of ensuring a violent free society, “Muri” had a choice, he could have walked away, but the humanity in him would not allow it, and so he stepped in to prevent another person from becoming a victim of domestic violence, I am pretty sure he prevented the loss of the lady’s life, the trigger happy cop would have shot her instead out of anger, and his desire to control.

We salute you “Muri”, we celebrate your courage, and even in death, we will continue to admire and exthole your virtues, in this Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and Beyond.

Rest In Peace Murtala Aminu AKA “MURI”

Posted On The Move By The Priest

How Christian fundamentalism crashed Yetunde Jagha’s marriage in Dublin Ireland.

I came across this story,quite pathetic,scary and very heart breaking

For those who claim abuse,in situations that don’t warrant it,I urge you,go ahead read this,and then decide and re-educate yourselves on the definition of abuse and out right victimization.

hristian fundamentalism crashed
Yetunde Jagha’s marriage in Dublin Ireland.
Religion is always a controversial issue and not
expected to solve all the problems in this world.No
wonder the great German philosopher,Karl Marx once
said :’Religion is the opium of the masses.”
Mrs.Omodolapo Yetunde Jagha(Nee Olotu),Ireland-
based Nigerian born-again Christian is no more but her
tragic story must serve as a bitter lesson for many
women still ‘stranded’ in a relationship with wicked
Nigerian men posing around as ‘men of God’.
As if ‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha was planning to dance on her
wife’s grave.He started spreading the rumour that his
wife was just one leg inside the grave with her
operation mastectomy
who was Pastor Noble Jagha’s girlfriend.Mariam
innocently told her flatmate that she would marry
Pastor Jagha very soon because his legal wife(Yetunde)
was just few weeks away from cancer death.
During Mariam’s saga, a panel of respected church
members was set up to investigate the scandal after
which Jagha and Mariam was asked to swear with a
Bible in the presence of top church members. He swore
but it was so unfortunate that even Yetunde publicly
refuted the allegation levelled against her husband to
show her true love. Yetunde later regretted that gesture
when a known Nigerian family in Dublin revealed the
promise of marriage which Jagha made to Mariam
since Yetunde would soon pass away.
Jagha is also not happy with Yetunde because all their
four children are girls with no single male child and he
vowed to look for other woman to produce a male child
for him.
When Yetunde was diagnosed with cancer about five
years ago,the husband(a church pastor)persuaded her
that ‘fasting and prayer’ shall cure the cancer within
few days until the cancer now spread to her lungs and
other vital organs.This later led to the mastectomy
operation which was kept as a ‘secret’ between them.To
say Yetunde was a respectful and loyal wife was an
understatement.She loved her husband so much and
always overlooked his extra-marital affairs in order to
protect her marriage.
The church authority tried to make peace between them
after this event.But ‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha when
summoned several times by the chairman of Christ
Apostolic Church (Outreach) in Ireland.He was very
rude on phone and disregarded him.
He was later reported to the pioneer of the church who
visited Ireland from the United Kingdom to resolve
issues with between Pastor and Mrs Jagha but he
tricked them each time that he would get things
resolved but he never did.
Less than three months before the death of Dolapo,he
was given a compulsory break with pay to have issues
resolved with his wife if he had to be continue to lead a
church. Unfortunately, he did not bother to make any
peace with her until she was admitted at Mater
Hospital,Dublin on the 25th of March 2013.
Dolapo was in a deep coma the midnight of 25th
March,2013 and medical experts said she may sleep to
death but prayers and vigils were conducted by church
members without the support of her controversial
husband and she was revived after the third day.
Mr.Noble could not hide his devilish intent as he was
shocked when informed that Dolapo had survived after
third day in coma.He was emotionally disturbed by the
news of how his wife failed to die quickly.
The headquarters of the church before the burial had
donated a reasonable amount of money towards burial,
and additional contribution was also collected at the
service of songs on 13th of June,2013 and without
hiding his shame,Pastor Jagha demanded for the
collected money immediately after the service of songs.
People now started to wonder of his ‘medicine-after-
death’ type of love for his late wife that he never cared
for while alive since he was busy sleeping around with
other ladies in Dublin,Ireland.
To make the matter worse,on the burial day,Friday June
14,2013.’Pastor’ Noble Jagha arrived with about four
broad-chested Congolese private bodyguards to protect
him against any physical attacks.The leader of the
bodyguards is simply known as ‘Bosco’.
This man,Bosco is a relation of Pastor Jagha’s latest
girlfriend.Jagha was really embarrassed during the
service of songs as a ‘wicked’ husband with no true love
for his dying wife and four female children.
It must be noted that the good government of
Ireland was responsible for the burial expenses.
However, it was noted that Pastor Jagha has been
begging people to support the burial which he never
spent a dine towards its execution.
Right now,from a reliable source,Pastor Jagha is
planning to establish his own church to attract his
supporters and sympathisers in Ireland.He is now in
custody of their four children pending the outcome of
the legal battle.Yetunde mentioned some of her trusted
friends and family members in her will to be the co-
guardians of her children.
When death was staring Yetunde at the face.She
quickly instructed her close friends to release her
stories to the whole world after her death for young
ladies not to fall victims of the so-called ‘men of
God'(businessmen in suits) with devilish agenda.She
stated all the key facts of the tragic story and
challenged ‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha to defend himself in the
court of public opinions.As Yetunde’s dad
(Mr.Olotu)wrote in his oration for her beloved
daughter :”God of Vengeance must surely reward
‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha.”
As at press time,efforts to reach ‘Pastor’ Jagha to hear
his own side of the story proved abortive as his mobile
phone was not reachable.
Mrs.Omodolapo Yetunde Olotu-Jagha,(1971-2013)rest in
perfect peace.
Pastor Noble Jagha.
which led to the removal of one of her breasts.The news
first filtered round the Dublin city through one Nigerian
(Hausa) lady called Mariam Hassan(Jagha’s church
member) who was Pastor Noble Jagha’s girlfriend.Mariam
innocently told her flatmate that she would marry
Pastor Jagha very soon because his legal wife(Yetunde)
was just few weeks away from cancer death.
During Mariam’s saga, a panel of respected church
members was set up to investigate the scandal after
which Jagha and Mariam was asked to swear with a
Bible in the presence of top church members. He swore
but it was so unfortunate that even Yetunde publicly
refuted the allegation levelled against her husband to
show her true love. Yetunde later regretted that gesture
when a known Nigerian family in Dublin revealed the
promise of marriage which Jagha made to Mariam
since Yetunde would soon pass away.
Jagha is also not happy with Yetunde because all their
four children are girls with no single male child and he
vowed to look for other woman to produce a male child
for him.
When Yetunde was diagnosed with cancer about five
years ago,the husband(a church pastor)persuaded her
that ‘fasting and prayer’ shall cure the cancer within
few days until the cancer now spread to her lungs and
other vital organs.This later led to the mastectomy
operation which was kept as a ‘secret’ between them.To
say Yetunde was a respectful and loyal wife was an
understatement.She loved her husband so much and
always overlooked his extra-marital affairs in order to
protect her marriage.
The church authority tried to make peace between them
after this event.But ‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha when
summoned several times by the chairman of Christ
Apostolic Church (Outreach) in Ireland.He was very
rude on phone and disregarded him.

He was later reported to the pioneer of the church who
visited Ireland from the United Kingdom to resolve
issues with between Pastor and Mrs Jagha but he
tricked them each time that he would get things
resolved but he never did.
Less than three months before the death of Dolapo,he
was given a compulsory break with pay to have issues
resolved with his wife if he had to be continue to lead a
church. Unfortunately, he did not bother to make any
peace with her until she was admitted at Mater
Hospital,Dublin on the 25th of March 2013.
Dolapo was in a deep coma the midnight of 25th
March,2013 and medical experts said she may sleep to
death but prayers and vigils were conducted by church
members without the support of her controversial
husband and she was revived after the third day.
Mr.Noble could not hide his devilish intent as he was
shocked when informed that Dolapo had survived after
third day in coma.He was emotionally disturbed by the
news of how his wife failed to die quickly.
The headquarters of the church before the burial had
donated a reasonable amount of money towards burial,
and additional contribution was also collected at the
service of songs on 13th of June,2013 and without
hiding his shame,Pastor Jagha demanded for the
collected money immediately after the service of songs.
People now started to wonder of his ‘medicine-after-
death’ type of love for his late wife that he never cared
for while alive since he was busy sleeping around with
other ladies in Dublin,Ireland.
To make the matter worse,on the burial day,Friday June
14,2013.’Pastor’ Noble Jagha arrived with about four
broad-chested Congolese private bodyguards to protect
him against any physical attacks.The leader of the
bodyguards is simply known as ‘Bosco’.
This man,Bosco is a relation of Pastor Jagha’s latest
girlfriend.Jagha was really embarrassed during the
service of songs as a ‘wicked’ husband with no true love
for his dying wife and four female children.
It must be noted that the good government of
Ireland was responsible for the burial expenses.
However, it was noted that Pastor Jagha has been
begging people to support the burial which he never
spent a dine towards its execution.
Right now,from a reliable source,Pastor Jagha is
planning to establish his own church to attract his
supporters and sympathisers in Ireland.He is now in
custody of their four children pending the outcome of
the legal battle.Yetunde mentioned some of her trusted
friends and family members in her will to be the co-
guardians of her children.
When death was staring Yetunde at the face.She
quickly instructed her close friends to release her
stories to the whole world after her death for young
ladies not to fall victims of the so-called ‘men of
God'(businessmen in suits) with devilish agenda.She
stated all the key facts of the tragic story and
challenged ‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha to defend himself in the
court of public opinions.As Yetunde’s dad
(Mr.Olotu)wrote in his oration for her beloved
daughter :”God of Vengeance must surely reward
‘Pastor’ Noble Jagha.”
As at press time,efforts to reach ‘Pastor’ Jagha to hear
his own side of the story proved abortive as his mobile
phone was not reachable.
Mrs.Omodolapo Yetunde Olotu-Jagha,(1971-2013)rest in
perfect peace.


Posted On The Move By The Priest

Online HookUps….More Than I Bargained For.


I met him on badoo, yes badoo, the network where people upload pictures and deceive themselves, he looked cool enough, at least he didn’t have a cheesy profile and didn’t claim to own the taj mahal, he was just an average guy, looking to chat and just while away time, well at that time that’s what I thought.

I was still going through his profile when he sent me a message, clearly he had taken the same interest in me, I hesitated at first, but then I decided to reply him, he was very polite, but I didn’t fall for it right away, I have had experiences with guys online, most of them pretend to be nice and civil at first, until they begin to ask for pictures of your breasts and privates. We chatted for about 10mins and he decided to log off, this was a first for me, because usually I always leave in the middle of a conversation, to keep them wanting more, now I know what that felt like.

Now I know we just chatted for 10mins, but it felt like we had been old friends, yes I know how cliche’ it sounds, but that’s just the plain fact, anyway I logged off too, but about 30mins later, I was back online, silently hoping he had logged on while I was away, and left a message, but to my dismay, there was no message from him. I logged off again, and repeated the process about 4 times that day and finally decided to control myself, I was lonely, I didn’t have a boyfriend, I didn’t just break up, I just didn’t have a boyfriend, don’t know why, but no one had ever asked me out, don’t get me wrong, I have male friends, but nothing intimate, I have had a few flings, but none ever stuck around long enough, it was always wam bam, thank you sam and they were gone before I could even put on my panties.

A few days passed and no message from him, I caught him online once, but while I was sending him a message I realized he had logged off, now it really hurt me, which made me ask myself why I was so bothered about this guy, I didn’t even know his real name, so I decided to forget about him, and move on with my life.

I carried on, still hooked on to the site, checking out profiles and dreaming up stupid fantasies, suddenly there he was, he had sent me a message, my first impulse was to log off, but while my head was logging off, my hands were already replying his message, we chatted for hours, it was fun, refreshing, intriguing, I became drawn to him, I asked for his phone number, but to my surprise he refused giving it to me, he simply said the time was not right yet, well I felt very insulted and I didn’t hesitate to let him know, he just simply apologized and told me goodnight. I was fuming, I decided I would never speak to him again, but deep down inside I knew I would speak to him if he spoke, so I just vented, cursed and went to bed.

After that day, we became regular chat mates, we talked about everything, but the most frustrating part was I still couldn’t read him, I didn’t know what he wanted, any regular guy would have made his intentions known by now, but not him, and he had this air of mystery around him, I guess that was what drew me to him, so I decided to make the first move, told him I wanted to hear his voice, this time he didn’t hesitate, he gave me his number and I immediately called him, he had a very calm voice, and I was smitten, in addition to what I felt already, I called him almost all the time, I sent text messages, and did all I could to stay in constant touch with him, at this point I realized our roles had been reversed, I was the guy and he was the lady, I would call and call, sometimes he would pick up, sometimes he wouldn’t, but I would still call, I would send long messages, and all I would get as a reply was a simple ‘ok’.

I decided I wanted to meet him, I craved definition, I wanted to finally put a face to the voice and all the messages I arranged for us to meet at the shopping mall, he agreed without hesitation, suddenly I felt sick in my stomach, was it regret or just sheer excitement, time would tell.

The agreed day for our date was here, I was falling over myself, I had trouble deciding what to wear, I wanted to make a good impression, but I didn’t want to appear to slutty or desperate, I arrived at the mall I bit early, I waited for close to an hour before he arrived, and when he arrived, I wasn’t disappointed, he was handsome, suave, and very calm, and a perfect gentleman, if he was still pretending up until this point, he must have been a good actor, and oh yes he was.

We had a swell time, talked about anything and everything, the day was gradually coming to an end, and suddenly I was becoming depressed, he noticed this and promised to take me out on a date on Saturday, I was happy, and although Saturday was just 2 days away it felt like an eternity, he stopped a cab for me, and gave me a kiss in the cheek, I wished it was more, but I had to be content with what I got.

The next 2 days were very interesting, he called me every chance he got, and my message inbox was filled with very romantic messages, finally some attention, and I was loving it, every moment of it. He hadn’t sent any sexual messages, or suggested anything sexual, all he did was call to know how I was, and tell me how deeply he felt for me, I was smitten beyond reason.

Saturday morning, I was so excited, I couldn’t eat, I tried on several clothes, I was determined this time to show off my features, I wanted him to see all he had at his disposal, and all he needed to do was ask, my plan worked, from the moment he picked me up, I caught him checking me out on several occasions, I was enjoying every moment of it. Our date was heavenly, he took me to a lake side restaurant, we ate, talked and laughed, and when we were done he offered to drop me off at home, I didn’t want to be too forward, so I agreed, but on our way back to my place he asked if I wouldn’t mind going back to my place, at least just to know where he lived, I agreed and off we went.

Most times we are blinded by lots of factors, and these don’t allow us look out for warning signs, on our way to his place, his phone rang, and suddenly he pulled the car over, he genuinely looked upset, and went on to tell me, he just received a call from his gate man, informing him the house had been fumigated, so instinctively I asked what the plan was, and he said he had to check into a hotel , then he offered to drive me home, well I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so I decided to go with him to the hotel, I wanted to play the loyal girlfriend, after all it wouldn’t speak well of me if I abandoned him now, so off we went.     

There was an awkward silence at the hotel, I was quite tense and I guess he was too, because he kept walking around checking everything over and over again, I took off my shoes and put on the tv and sat on the bed, I watched him walk around and told him to come sit by me, he hesitated at first, but then he sat beside me, he took my hands and kissed me, I responded, he pulled back, looked into my eyes and told me he hoped it would last, then he kissed me again, I totally melted in his arms, I threw all caution to the wind, and allowed him have his way with me, I didn’t care, all I cared about was that time, I would care tomorrow, but today, I was with him.

He made love to me, over and over again, it was intense, maybe because I had not been treated with so much care and passion, I didn’t care that we didn’t have protection, all I wanted was him, looking back now, it was a stupid thing to do. We both fell asleep, the next morning he gently woke me up with a kiss, he ordered some breakfast for us, we ate silently, we didn’t talk about the previous night, I went in to take a shower, he joined me, and we had sex right there in the bathroom, this time it was urgent, as if he was having me for the first time, I loved it, he gave me a good mix, gentle the previous night, hard the following morning, as he had me, I thought to myself, where had he been all my life. I was so happy, in my mind I had found my Mr. Right, we got dressed and he drove me home, we were chatting like an old couple, he stopped at my hostel gate, came out and opened the door for me, kissed me on the cheek and promised to call me once he had sorted his house out, I watched him drive off, with a massive smile on my lips, I was happy.

I waited for his call all day, I waited for his message, I didn’t get anything, I fought the urge to call him, didn’t want to appear too needy, after all he had told me he would call, so I waited and waited some more, but no call came in, I was beginning to get worried, so I called his number, it was switched off, my heart skipped a beat, but I calmed myself, maybe his battery had died, maybe he didn’t have access to his house yet, so I waited, I lay on my bed waiting, I fell asleep with my phone in hand.

I woke up the next morning, immediately checked my phone, no missed calls, no text messages, I tried his line again, still switched off, I started to panic, I immediately logged on to badoo, lots of messages, but none from him, I tried to check his profile, and my heart sank with the message I saw, “USER PROFILE HAS BEEN DELETED”,I immediately broke down crying, I was confused, what was happening, I tried his number again, still switched off, tried to check his profile again and got the same message, it was like he had vanished into thin air.

I spent the whole day in bed, hoping blindly that he would call, nothing, I tried his number and it was still switched off, my roommates asked what was wrong, I was too ashamed to tell them anything, I still didn’t want to believed I had been played, so I waited, and waited some more, I eventually slept off.

The next day I woke up, tried his number, checked his profile, everything was still the same, I decided to try to find him, I found my way back to the hotel, I tried to see if I could get any information, I lied that I had forgotten my wallet in the room, they checked the registration details, the room was booked in just one name, victor, that was his online name, that was the name I called him, the phone number was the one I had, I was let into the room, I found nothing, I left there, and tried to trace my way to his place, I got to the point where we turned around, I walked around for some hours hoping to see if he would drive by, but slowly I began to realize he wasn’t going to drive by, slowly I began to realize I had been played, I fell for a scam, I had sex with a phantom, how else could I explain what had happened to me.

I went back to school, ashamed, depressed, and feeling very dirty, I didn’t tell anyone what had happened, when asked about him, all I did was say he was fine. I tried his number a couple more times, and checked his profile, everything remained the same, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, I was beginning to forget, until I fell ill.

I woke up one night shivering from a serious fever, I was burning up, my roommates rushed me to the school clinic, I was, I was placed on admission, the doctor insisted on running some tests before he started treatment, I was given an injection to help with the fever. A couple of hours later he came back with the results, he asked to talk to me privately, my roommates left the room, and the words came out like blows, “YOU ARE PREGNANT”, I was too shocked to speak, I was 19 (nineteen), and pregnant for a man I met online, nowhere to be found, my life was over, how was I going to explain this to my parents, if I was pregnant, what assurance did I have that I hadn’t contracted a disease from him, there were so many questions, and no answers, I was pregnant, who was I going to blame.

I met a man online, I acted like a common slut, and he left me with a pregnancy I didn’t know what to do with, there was no excuse for what I had gotten myself into, no sympathy for my actions, if I am to carry this pregnancy to term, how was I going to explain the circumstances, how would I tell this child who the father was or is.

There is no happy ending here, just the mistakes of an overzealous young girl.

By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

N-B- Please Leave Your Thoughts and Comments, Thank You

Little Aramide-When You Are Not Watching


This story is for everyone,as always I expect every reader to leave with a clearer understanding,after reading the stories.

Little aramide was barely 4months, when her mummy went back to work, her dad was too skeptical about day care centers, so he decided to hire the services of a live in nanny, and when I say nanny, I don’t mean “Mary Poppins”.

The live in nanny was a 14 year old girl brought in from the village by a friend of aramide’s parents, who also had a nanny of her own, this has become a common practice for working class parents,especially those who don’t prefer creches‘.

The nanny was put through a crash course on child care giving for about a week by aramide’s mummy before she resumed back at work.

Everything appeared to be fine for the first few months,aramide was a healthy child,played well,ate well and slept well,no cause for alarm right?


Mummy should have realized there was something wrong, when at one time she was bottle feeding aramide when she realized that almost half of the bottle had fitted into the baby’s mouth with tue least effort,it appeared odd,but she brushed it aside,as something peculiar aramide was able to do, like rolling her tongue or being very flexible.

A few weeks after that incident,mummy and daddy woke up to tue piercing screams of aramide, they both rushed into her room, to find her crying in a manner she had never cried before.

Daddy checked her temperature, she was burning up, that wasn’t all, her tummy was bloated and quite hard.

Mummy and daddy where confused,all efforts to at least calm her down where useless, and so they decided to rush her to the hospital. They arrived at the hospital, in luck to meet with a pediatrician, on seeing aramide he was quite surprised to see that a child her age had break outs around her lip and chin,and the size of her bloated tummy was very worrisome.

Aramide was taken into the treatment ward,and tests were ran, but before then, daddy noticed something strange.

Aramide could not be pacified by her bottle,or by her mother’s breasts, but daddy noticed her sucking on his fingers, sucking one, she continued to whimper,sucking two fingers,aramide went
silent,that was quite odd he thought to himself, but not as odd as what the doctor was about to tell them.

Aramide’s parents where ushered into the doctor’s office, the doctor stared at both parents sternly for a while,and then stared intently at daddy for a brief second before asking the most embarrassing question.

Do you have sexual relations with your child?

Daddy was shocked and then flew into a rage at the question, I mean who wouldn’t right,but before he had the opportunity to pounce on the doctor,mummy held him back and asked the doctor why he asked such a question.

The answer given by the doctor would drop like a bomb.

“the reason for your daughter’s bloated tummy, is an accumulation of semen,her digestive system can only handle so much,and since semen does not fall into any food group,the body simply refused to digest it, its like pouring water into a balloon,with no exit point,it continues to fill up until.it pops,not that your child will pop,i am simply trying to simplify my earlier explanation.

Aramide’s mummy was shocked, her daddy was speechless, suddenly daddy noticed mummy and the doctor staring at him, as if waiting for an explanation, he stared back at them in disbelief.

“Are you both really serious,you really think I had sexual relations with my 6month old?”

Mummy was shaking, but the doctor had more bad news.

“We also noticed some mouth sores, and ran a few more tests, it turns out your daughter has oral herpes, who ever is responsible for the semen in her stomach,also infected her with herpes.

We need answers, who asides from both of you have un supervised access to your child.

The nanny was brought in,at this point the matron had joined them, and the nanny was questioned, while the doctor questioned, and the matron tried to reason with the girl, aramide’s parents cursed and threatened with every evil force they knew.

Obviously the nanny could not have been responsible for the semen, but she had an idea of who could, but at this point she was just speculating.

Aramide falling sick, had opened a can of worms, mummy and daddy honestly believed they had a perfect home, devoid of worries and scandals, but all they really had was a well guarded coven, filled with endless secrets.

The nanny had confessed to having a boyfriend of sorts, he was the local meat seller at the market not too far from their home, she had met him when she was sent to the market to purchase some cooking ingredients,he had showered her with gifts and well in her naive mannerism she assumed she was in love, well she always took advantage of every opportunity she had to go see her “man”, but when mummy resumed work, well she was stuck with aramide all day, and at night her chances of being sent on errands were very slim or non existent, but a ray of hope appeared in.the neighbor boy who had a crush on her, she noticed this and struck a deal with him, she would allow him touch her breasts for 10mins every morning, and in return he would watch aramide while she went off to spend time with her “man”.

Well the arrangement went on for a few weeks, until the neighbor boy walked in on the nanny and her man having sex in the kitchen, with aramide sleeping in.the living room, well another opportunity had presented itself for the neighbor boy, who had since grown tired of only being limited to the nanny’s breasts, and craved much more, he waited until her “man” had left, and then went on to draft a new agreement or blackmail as the case may be.

“I want to eat that thing, that man is eating, or I will tell your madam what you have been doing”

The nanny had so much to loose, and she didn’t have any options, she agreed, and allowed the neighbor boy “eat” as he had put it.

Now you might be wondering what all this has to do with aramide’s present health condition, well i’ll tell you.

Remember the nanny left the neighbor boy with aramide all day on more than one occasion right?

Well after the nanny had spilled the beans, aramide’s daddy rushed out and headed straight to apprehend the neighbor boy, he was dragged back to the hospital to explain his own side of the story, it was turning out to be quite interesting.

The neighbor boy seeing the gravity of what was happening,wasted no time in.singing like a little bird.

“She left me with baby,she said she was coming soon, but she stayed very long,and baby food finished one day and baby was crying, and after playing and singing to baby,she didn’t stop crying, so I remembered that milk comes from breast, and since there was no breast in the house, and the other day when I finished eating nanny, something poured out of my penis, and it is white, and milk too is white, so I put my penis in baby,s mouth, and she will suck until milk comes out.

Well now we know where the semen came from, but how did she contact oral herpes, well this is where it gets weird, remember the nanny’s man?

Well he had been having unprotected sex with the nanny, he had been arrested and tested, and confirmed to have herpes, which he had passed on to the nanny.

Remember when the neighbor boy demanded a piece of the action from the nanny? Well he had unprotected sex with the nanny, on numerous occasions and got infected from there.

Unfortunately while in his warped mind he was trying to pacify little aramide, he put his penis in her mouth and infected her with oral herpes and also filled her stomach with semen.

Now all pieces of the puzzle were in place, but unfortunately herpes cannot be cured, aramide would have to live with it for the rest of her life, she would grow up with such an embarrassing ailment due to no fault of hers, she is doing fine right now, the breakouts have cleared, but its just a matter of time before she has another breakout.

Mummy quit her job, stays home with aramide, and is scared of even letting her go to.school, the nanny has since left, don’t know what happened to her, neighbor boy was a victim of circumstance and was sent to a remand home, the nanny’s “man” was arrested and charged to court for having sex with a minor, he is awaiting trial, well at least the last time I checked.

I see more parents these days, leaving the responsibilities of child raising to hired hands and schools, while we search for our daily bread, we should also find time to actually know whats going on with the kids.

Do you know what is happening to your kids, when you are not watching?

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest).

Nigeria: Rising Incidence of Domestic Violence

Reports of men beating their wives to death, sons killing
their fathers or mothers, and youths killing their siblings
have been in the news lately. Some cases of domestic
violence are, however, more terrible than others: it has
just been reported that a pregnant woman has been
stabbed to death by her 21-year-old husband in Bayelsa
State. The incident which occurred at Immiringi
community of Ogbia LGA was the climax of an alleged
domestic squabble between the couple.
Misunderstandings between couples often end with
disastrous consequences, especially in these days of
economic hardship. Tension has gripped many homes as
poverty and joblessness buffet a majority of Nigerians.
There have been cases of husbands giving their wives
acid bath or beating them to death. But stabbing a
pregnant woman to death (like the one that happened in
President Goodluck Jonathan’s home LGA) is as
horrendous as it can get and deserves the condemnation
of every decent society. It was not just the death of the
woman but also that of her unborn child.
When such cases occur, apart from the initial outcry
from so-called civil societies and rights groups, the
crimes only end up as footnotes in police records. If at
all they get to the courts, legal technicalities stall
proceedings. Soon, they are forgotten and everyone
returns to business as usual. Do the women recollect the
details of the Beijing Declaration? Is it all about
Affirmative Action and 33 per cent of political offices?
What are the women groups doing to prevent this kind
of unsavoury incident?
This case calls to mind the challenges of early marriage.
If the man is just 21, then, it is likely that the woman
was even younger. Both were not sufficiently
psychologically matured and ready for the stress and
strain of married life. They were two “babies” playing
adults’ game. Some parents are in the habit of pushing
their children into marriage even when they are not
ready. Women rights groups should intensify ongoing
efforts towards protecting young girls from parental
pressures that ultimately lead to untimely deaths such
as the one in question.
Any man who is mad enough to cause the death of his
own wife should be sent to a psychiatric hospital and
not a police cell. There is need to find out the mindset of
such a man. We appreciate the efforts of the police to
dig up the details of such matters in their investigations.
But it is sad to note that, in the past, such efforts only
ended up as a needless show of professionalism that
never yielded any tangible result capable of assuaging
public angst. Let this case not go the way of similar past

Source-All Africa.Com

Posted On The Move By The Priest


I received a phone call recently,on the other end,was a familiar voice,you know the sort of voice you recognize,but simply can’t place,and you really don’t want to sound rude and ask who the person is out rightly,simply because the person on the other end is speaking with so much familiarity.

After a few minutes of back and forth exchange of compliments,I finally summoned up the courage to ask who it was, she laughed for about 10seconds and then said,so you have forgotten me so soon, I felt terrible at this point,I quickly apologized for my memory lapse.

She laughed again and said,its chinwe,your friend from the eatery, at that point I screamed and realizing what I did,I apologized and asked where she had been all this while.

Her Journey Of Transformation:

I kept a low profile as usual,staying indoors most of the time,minding my own business,and trying hard not to draw undue attention to myself,many times I contemplated ending it all,but I was too much of a coward to go through with it,even though I was the way I was,living was still a better option than death,besides it would be selfish of me to put my mother through that sort of horror,the woman has been through enough pain as it was already.

I sought solace in the bible,I prayed more, and went to church mostly on weekdays,sundays were not my thing considering the crowds that poured into church on such days,I would go for bible study,and I made myself as unapproachable as possible,avoided chit chat,and never offered to participate.

One evening as I walked back home,a car pulled up beside me,and two elderly women stepped out,I was scared at first until I recognized one of the women,she attended the bible study class,and so I relaxed a bit,but not enough to invite unwanted questions.

We exchanged greetings,and she told me she had been wanting to speak with me,I asked her what about,she offered to give me a lift to my home,but I declined,they were both very patient,and didn’t probe further.

A few days later the same ladies showed up at my place,I guess they must have followed me,my mother came in to call me,I was furious at first,but I decided to play it cool,I mean for how long would I be hostile to everyone,so I went out and received them.

They went on to tell me how they noticed my reclusive nature,and also how they had noticed my physical appearance and really wanted to know what happened.

I hesitated,but decided to open up once again,you see, when you go through what I have been through,or any tragic situation for that matter,down the ‘so called’ road to recovery,you go through a lot of emotions,from fear,to shame,to anger,to self loathing,then back to anger,but this time the anger is directed at others,the society,but deep down inside you know your anger is misdirected,the society didn’t do this to me,I accepted my fault,and had began to deal with it.

Dealing with it has been hard,most nights I cried,and wished I was having a bad dream,hoping I would wake up,and find my self back in school,on my bed,but reality would always dawn on me,anytime I took off my clothes and stared at the mirror.

I had craved companionship,I longed for someone to talk to,I longed for non-judge mental eyes to look at me,and so when the women came,I took a chance and told them everything that had happened to me,I didn’t leave anything out,and by the time I was done,they were both weeping,and I was also weeping.

Suddenly the words I wanted to hear,”we want to help”

How? I asked,how do you want to help me.

They went ahead and arranged an appointment for me at the teaching hospital,I was checked out,and I was referred to a trauma center in the United States,at that point I thought,”well another dead end”, but my initial bills were paid.

We arrived the United States,I was admitted at the hospital,I was examined and was scheduled to undergo 7 different surgeries started with my face,my eye to be precise,well they couldn’t give me a real eye,but at least a substitute inform of a glass eye,to cover the gaping hole.

So far,I have undergone 3 skin grafts,and I have some more to go,but the most memorable miracle on this journey is how,after hearing my story,the hospital board decided to carry out my surgeries free of charge,my initial payment has been refunded,and the most has been put towards re-starting my education by my guardians.

I hope to study guidance counseling,it might sound a bit cliche’, but for the first time in a long time,I have a reason to smile and have hope,and I will definitely do all in my power to ensure no one goes through what I have been through,I know its not totally possible,but I will try my best.

After the call,I sat down for a while,I didn’t speak,didn’t laugh,didn’t cry,I was relieved at the thought that a modern day miracle had just unfolded right in front of me,and so I decided to share.

Her road to recovery is a long one,but there is a road none the less.

By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Posted On The Move By The Priest

Final Year Student Killed By Rapist

A final year Guidance and Counselling student of the
Nwafor Orizu College of Education, Nsugbe, Anambra
State, was allegedly killed on Saturday by some rapists
after she failed to allow them to sexually abuse her.
The killing was the climax of a series of rapes said to
have become commonplace at the college in the past
few months.
The student, whose name was yet to be confirmed on
Sunday, was said to be an indigene of Obeledu in
Anaocha Local Government of the state.
Her body was found near the school chapel not far
from the lecturers’ quarters.
The Provost of the college, Dr. Clara Obiagwu, declined
comments on the incident when contacted.
“Stay off our college until you are invited. Did you
contact me before nosing around my college? I have
told you, don’t report about my college,” she told
The Public Relations Officer of the College, Mr. Willy
Chukwuma, however said the incident did not occur on
the campus.
The Anambra State University was last month shut
down after students took to the street to protest the
killing of a female student by armed robbers that
invaded a female hostel.

Source-Punch Newspapers

Posted On The Move By The Priest


She sat in the hall way

I noticed she turned her face away when I walked past,at first I thought it was coincidental,not until I saw her do it again when someone else walked by, I walked up to her and asked if she was alright,she replied quickly and dismissing.

So I walked away.

In the course of doing what I do, concerning domestic abuse advocacy and rape, I have come across all sorts of reasons, why people do what they do, and sometimes you think you have seen it all.

Well this time, that theory was disproved, a colleague had asked me to come in for an interview, a peculiar one at that, and so without hesitation I drove down to the center.

I was getting my stuff ready, when my colleague walked in with a lady, her head was bent low, and she was wearing a small veil, which covered most of the top of her head and parts of her face.

I stopped what I was doing, when I realized she was the same lady I spoke to in the hallway……..her name was catherine.


My name is catherine, I have been married for 6 months now, and it has been nothing but torture, I dated my husband for a whole year before he asked me to be his wife.

It was a wonderful courtship,not perfect but wonderful, my husband was a very patient man, but recently his patience had wore out.

During our courtship, I never agreed to sex, I told him I didn’t want to have sex before marriage, well he played along, because in his own words, “soon you will be my wife and I will have all the sex I want”, we would laugh over it, and move on, I didn’t want sex, not because I was old fashioned, but simply because I was unable to.

Yes I couldn’t endure penetration, it was always extremely painful, and it always felt like my vaginal opening was closed, the first time I attempted to have sex was when I discovered it, then I thought maybe because it was my first time, so I decided to wait until I was a bit mature.

After a few years I attempted to have intercourse, but it was a repeat of how I had felt the first time, I began to get worried, I attempted using my finger to see if I could create an opening, but the all too familiar pain was still there.

I couldn’t tell my mother, because I didn’t want her to know I had attempted to have sex before marriage, and so I kept hoping I would get over it eventually, at that point I convinced myself it was my body’s way of telling me to wait.

Eventually we got married, my wedding night was a disaster, he tried everything,nothing worked,the pain was mind numbing,at a point he gave up, and slept on the couch, the next morning we talked about it, he asked me why I hadn’t mentioned anything, I told him why.

I decided to inform my mother after a few weeks of trying and failing, mum gave me some herbs and asked us both to drink, still nothing.

I could feel his frustration, from the way he spoke to me, I could feel his doubt too, I suggested we seek medical help,but all he said that, he was man enough to penetrate his wife, and whenever I was ready I would drop my act. Those words really hurt me, so all along he felt it was an act, he felt I was pretending because I didn’t want to have sex.

Some night he would get on top of me, and try to force himself inside me, but it would end up the same way, I would scream and beg him to stop, the pain was getting worse.

We had arguments, and with each argument things got worse, I realized sex with me was more of a conquest, he was trying to prove he was man enough to have me anytime and anyhow he wanted, and with every trial, he would get aggressive, one night he was so angry, he slapped me, called me a slut and walked out…..he never came back that night,he never touched me after that, and he never apologized.

He moved into the other room, and treated me like a leper, he cooked his own meals and spent more time with his car, than he did with me.

About a week ago, I decided I was going to get past my pain, I decided I was going to get my marriage back on track, I went into the bathroom, I took a candle,lubricate it with some lotion, and I attempted to push it inside me, I alternated between my finger and the candle stick, I thought I was alone in the house, so I let out some subtle groaning sounds, suddenly timothy opened the door and saw me doing what I was doing.

Now, finding me in that position was implicating all on its own, he shook his head and walked away, leaving me in total shock, shame and confusion.

I pulled up my pants and ran after him, big mistake…..he turned around, and beat me with all the energy he could muster, he called me names, and eventually he kicked me out.

I moved in with my mother, he came to the house yesterday with my belongings, he told me he was aware how girls would have too much sex, and attempt to tighten their vagina, to give them the appearance of virgins, and that mine had back fired, he called me a whore, and told me never to come back to his house.

I still don’t understand why this is happening, I don’t have issues urinating,and my monthly period is like clock work.

He has refused to understand my situation.


To say I wasn’t stunned by what catherine had disclosed would be an understatement, but we convinced her to see a doctor, a seasoned gynecologist, and after a series of tests it was discovered she had a  condition known as “VAGINISMUS”.

I took the liberty of doing some research, find it below


Vaginismus is an involuntary spasm of the muscles
surrounding the vagina. The spasms close the vagina.

Vaginismus is a sexual problem. It has several possible
causes, including:
Past sexual trauma or abuse
Psychological factors
History of discomfort with sexual intercourse
Sometimes no cause can be found.
Vaginismus is an uncommon condition. The exact
number of women who have this problem is unknown.


The main symptoms are:
Difficult, painful, or impossible, vaginal penetration
during sex
Vaginal pain during sexual intercourse or a pelvic exam
Women with vaginismus often become anxious about
sexual intercourse. However, this does not mean they
cannot become sexually aroused. Many women with this
condition can have orgasms when the clitoris is

Exams and Tests
A pelvic exam can confirm the diagnosis of vaginismus.
A medical history and complete physical exam are
important to look for other causes of pain with sexual
intercourse (dyspareunia).

Treatment involves a combination of education,
counseling, and exercises such as pelvic floor muscle
contraction and relaxation (Kegel exercises).
Vaginal dilation exercises are recommended using
plastic dilators. These should be done under the
direction of a sex therapist or other health care
provider. Therapy should involve the partner. It can
gradually include more intimate contact, ultimately
leading to intercourse.
Your health care provider should give you information
about sexual anatomy, the sexual response cycle, and
common myths about sex.


When women are treated by a specialist in sex therapy,
success rates are generally very high.

We hope that with the results, timothy and catherine will be able to settle their marital issues, its a long road ahead, but with patience and support I am pretty sure they will achieve it.

Counseling sessions have been arranged for both of them, with hopes that timothy will oblige.

Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Additional Sources – http://www.wikipedia.com

Rescued By a Ritual Rapist

From the moment I stepped on the bus,I knew something was wrong,up until this moment,I don’t know why I had that feeling,but it just didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend, and I was going home to visit my mum, she had been ill for some days and this was the first opportunity I had to leave school, and go visit her, so immediately after my saturday morning lecture,I rushed down to the hostel,packed up a few clothes and rushed out.

I had been waiting at the bus-park for almost an hour, and I had 2 hour journey ahead of me, so it was only normal for me to feel a bit impatient.

I was about to give up, when a vehicle stopped at the park, I saw some folks rush in, so instinctively I rushed in too, at first I was relieved, but after looking round,a sudden panic enveloped me, the driver looked too neat to be a full time bus driver, and suddenly the passengers were faces I had recognized from the park, I had heard stories of bus operators playing tricks on passengers, they would plant non travelers in their vehicles to give an appearance of the bus being full, and once your fare was paid you would realize you were the only one in the vehicle, and would be forced to wait.

This was not the case, the bus was already moving,my fears were confirmed a few minutes into the journey, the lady behind me stuck a sharp object in my back, she whispered for me to sit still.

Suddenly the bus veered off the main road, onto an untared road,it was bumpy,with a lot of bushes on either side,no other cars in sight,my heart was in my throat,I had heard stories of how people were abducted in this manner, and very few survived to tell the tale.

For every time I thought of how I would die, I never thought I would die this way, at the hands of ritualists, decapitated and left in a ditch somewhere, my identity unknown, I thought of how my mother would react to the news of my disappearance, it would kill her.

As different thoughts ran through my head, the bus suddenly stopped, and I was pushed out along side two other ladies, we were led deep into the bushes were we were asked to sit on the grass, the lady who had stuck me earlier seemed to be their leader, she ordered us to open our bags, she was very angry when she realized we had very little, of course we had little, we were students, heading home for the weekend, with the home of getting more pocket money.

The other girls were led away, and I was left sitting on the grass, I wept, I prayed and so many things ran through my mind, I sat there until night time, the men came back, but the ladies did not, at this point I was horrified, my heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode, the lady walked up to me and dropped a pebble on my head, suddenly she flew into a rage, slapped me and pushed me to the floor, she sat on my stomach and put a knife to my neck, are you a virgin? She asked me, I was so afraid all I could do was nod, she slapped me again and asked the question a second time, are you a virgin? This time I was able to answer in a whispered tone.

I figured obviously whatever they wanted to use me for I wasn’t suited for it, since I was a virgin, but she had a solution to that, suddenly she sat up, called out to one of the men,she turned and smiled at me, don’t worry, I have a boyfriend for you, since you don’t want school boys to “fuck” you, this man will happily “fuck” you, and maybe teach you some new styles.

My God, I was horrified, she ripped off my blouse, and my bra, and he carried me over his shoulder, into a darker part of the bushes, he dropped on the grass and while I was trying to struggle, he brought out an axe and told me to shut up, he ordered me to take off my skirt, and my panties, I was shaking, sweating and crying at the same time,by this time I was stark naked, he pushed me on my back and climbed on top of me.

At the point I said my final prayers and closed my eyes, suddenly he got off me, he took off his over coat and covered me up, he motioned for me not to make a sound, and then he disappeared into the bushes, I sat there still shaking, but confused, suddenly he re-appeared, he asked me to put on my skirt, and he threw a polo shirt at me, he grabbed my hand and led me through another path and unto the main road, he put some money and a flash light in my hands and told me to keep following that path, and not to stop for anything.

I did exactly what he said, and without looking back, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, I must have run for hours, I finally got to the main road and by then the day was already breaking,I managed to get another bus back to school,I kept mute, because I couldn’t bare the thought of being asked to identify the location,I was lucky to be alive.

It was a horrific ordeal, I strongly doubt if the other two ladies survived,or maybe they did, but up until now, no missing student report has circulated,what happened was nothing short of a miracle, trying to understand the events that happened on that faithful day.

Posted On The Move By The Priest

80-year-old woman raped in Tamil Nadu

In a shocking incident, an 80-
year old woman was allegedly raped by a 41-year-old
man following which she was admitted to a hospital in a
serious condition.
The woman, a widow, is battling for life at a
government hospital here, police said on Saturday.
The accused Palanivel, a vegetable vendor, of
Malliyakari in the district was detained by the local
people and handed over to police who arrested him and
slapped a rape case.
According to police, the woman was living alone at
Gopalapuram in Malliakari. Around midnight last night,
Palanivel, who has two wives and four children, went to
the victim’s house and asked for water, but she refused.
Suddenly, he forced his way into the house, allegedly
raped her and bit her private parts.
Local residents called an ambulance and rushed the
woman to Attur Government Hospital from where she
was shifted to Mohan Kumaramangalam Medical
College Hospital here.
Doctors said the condition of the woman was critical

Source- Times Of India

Posted On The Move By The Priest

Nigeria police uncover second ‘baby factory’ in a week

For the second time in a week, Nigerian authorities on
Wednesday discovered a baby factory and rescued
pregnant teens from the forced selling of their newborns.
This time, six girls were saved and three suspects
arrested, Agence France-Presse reported.
“We acted on intelligence information and raided the
house in [the city of] Enugu where we met six girls, under
17 and all pregnant, and freed them,” said police
spokesman Ebere Amaraizu in the AFP report.
The girls were “lured into the house with a promise of
some money” after they delivered their babies, Mr.
Amaraizu said in the AFP report.
Two men and one woman suspected of operating a child-
trafficking ring were taken into police custody.
Authorities said they were cooperating with the
investigation, AFP reported. It’s not yet clear where the
girls came from or who exactly impregnated them;
specifically, whether they were impregnated as part of a
baby-factory ring.
“Investigation will unravel the details,” Mr. Amaraizu
said in the AFP report. “We have to know how they came
about the pregnancy and where they came from.”
Five days ago, police rescued 17 pregnant girls and 11
other young children from a home in nearby Umuaka
that was believed to be operating as a baby factory.
The pregnant girls in that rescue were between the ages
of 14 and 17. They told police they had been impregnated
by the same 23-year-old man, who since has been
arrested on charges related to human trafficking, various
media reported.
Nigeria is known for human trafficking, which the United
Nations lists as the third most common crime in the
nation, after fraud and drug sales

Source-Washington Times

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Polytechnic graduate raped to death three days after graduation In Lagos,Nigeria

Investigations have been stalled due to the swift Islamic burial of the corpse.​

A 21- year -old lady, identified simply as Nofisat, was ​raped ​and slaughtered to death by unknown assailants in her home at the Magbon area of Ogijo in Ogun State.

The incident happened on Wednesday at about 2p.m.

The victim had just earned her Higher National Diploma from the Lagos State Polytechnic, Ikorodu on Saturday, April 27 and was still in a celebratory mood when the suspected culprits stormed her residence and raped her to death.

Nofisat was said to be the only person at home as her mother a school teacher and her siblings had gone to school.

Neighbours said the victim’s mother came back from school and saw her naked in a pool of her own blood as the rapists were also said to have slit her throat.

It was gathered that the police have arrested two men said to reside in the same premises in connection with the brutal murder.

A postmortem examination that will help the police in the investigation has been stalled as the victim’s remains have since been buried according to Islamic rites at the Alaba Muslim Cemetery at Ogijo at about 3 p.m. on Thursday.

Source- PremiumTimes

N.B- After reading the above article, we can all simply refer back to an earlier article I wrote, the growing Nigerian Rape Culture, and you will all agree with me that the problem is getting worse, now victims are being murdered and no arrests are being made, investigations are being halted due to extreme lack of evidence, isn’t this enough to call for drastic change.

We need to rise up,we need to say NO to rape.

Posted On The Move By The Priest

But Before I Die

Dear World,
It has been months since you allowed an animal walking on 2 legs to violate me, months since I lost my dignity,months since I was able to look at the sun, these days I notice more and more about my feet, since am always staring down at them in shame,anytime I walk down the streets, but don’t worry my ears work fine, I still hear the silent whispers from people who use their eyes and tongues to point at me, and hey they are still the nice ones, others pass soul crushing comments when I walk into a room, or into a class.

I am being blamed for being raped, I can’t wrap my head around it, did I invite a monster to rape me? Do I have a bulls eye on my forehead? Or was there ever a time I put out an ad, indicating I wanted to get raped in a gutter?

O my God, the voices in my head keep getting louder, I feel his hands on my body, I have tried to cut off the parts I feel he has touched, but why do they keep sewing it back up,why do they insist on torturing me, I am now subjected to using a plastic spoon and plate to eat my meals, like food is going to clean my filth.

What wrong did I ever do, to be given such a bitter pill,forced to swallow, and now no matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of the bitter taste.

He laughed while he forced his way inside me, he cut my vigina with his blade, he said he was a real man, every woman’s dreams, I can hear him loud and clear, he pinned me down in a filthy gutter, he gagged my mouth with a piece of wood, like I was some horse, he told me he knew I liked it rough and hard, so he pushed further, and told me he cut me because I was too tight for him.

He tore my blouse, and put his teeth on my breasts, my pain was his joy, his sweat dripping into my eyes, I feel the burning sensation in my eyes as I write.

He raped my body, he raped my mind, I don’t even think I have a soul left, he abandoned me in a stinky gutter, left in my own filth, people found me, they took pictures, they murmured, but no one touched me.

The police accused me of taunting, that clearly from the way I was dressed, I didn’t leave anything to the imagination, what the hell does that mean, since when does a blouse and a knee high skirt leave nothing to the imagination, the nurses treated me like another skanky girl, who got drunk at a party.

The “boys” in my class called me a slut, who couldn’t handle a good “dick” so I cried rape, the “girls” called me a whore, and said I deserved what I got for being rigid.

Some have tried to help me, but maybe they are right, maybe I deserved to be raped,maybe I should have made myself more available to the guys, maybe I should have “fucked” more men, and satisfied their lusts, maybe it would have been better to be a skank, and stay safe, being otherwise didn’t ensure my safety.

I can feel the voices in my head again, when I lay down, I feel his hands on my body, I need to cut those parts off, even till now I feel his semen marinating inside me like a time bomb waiting to explode, if I had the chance I would cut off my vigina, probably that would get rid of the burning sensation I feel.

Being here is no longer worth it, when you break a leg, people sign your cast and tell you to get well soon

When you get raped, they call you a whore and send you on your way, I give up, yes world, I went out looking for a good time, and I got what I didn’t bargain for, I wanted a “hard fuck” but couldn’t handle this, and so I cried rape.

I will not bother with my words, I don’t care what you think of me, the worst you can do to me now is kill me, but am going to beat you to it.

But I will not give him the satisfaction of my demise, I will fight this, I will flourish, I will regain my dignity, I will regain my sanity, and most of all, I will survive.

By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

25 year old rapes toddler in Lagos, Nigeria

A 25-year-old man was on Monday arrested at Somolu, Lagos State after he was allegedly caught having sex with his two-year-old cousin.

The suspect, David Nnebong, lived with the victim’s grandmother at 18 Awoseyin Street, Somolu.

It was learnt that the incident occurred at about 3pm when the toddler was left in the house with the suspect by her grandmother, known as Iya Wura.

 The mother of the girl was said to be in Calabar.

PUNCH Metro learnt that on her return, the little girl who was crying while greeting her grandmother pointed to her vagina.

A neighbour, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said it was the girl’s cries that made her grandmother suspicious.

He said, “It was the child who actually made Iya Wura know that David had raped her. The grandmother raised the alarm and all the neighbours pounced on David.

“Although she was upset with David, Iya Wura and other relatives, who were present, did not want to get him arrested.

“They only wanted him to leave the house and relocate elsewhere, but neighbours insisted on involving the police.

At the time David was taken to Alade Police Division, there was still semen on the child.”

As of Tuesday evening, the relatives of the victim were yet to report to the police station to write statements although Nneobong was said to still be in police custody.

Punch Metro learnt that the relatives were still insisting that they did not want police to be involved in the issue.

Source-The Punch Newspaper

N.B- with reference to an earlier blog, the growing Nigerian rape culture, we can clearly see there is an increase in perverse practices going on in Nigeria, and up until now, people would rather remain silent, than face societal stigma.

Its getting worse, and like india, nothing is being done, until something worse occurs.

Rape is BAD, stop it now.

Posted On The Move By The Priest

5 Year Old Dies From Rape In India

A 5 year old girl child was reported to have died from injuries sustained from being raped earlier this month.

The little girl was lured into a farm by 2 men known to her parents, while the parents were at work, the victim was said to have sustained injuries and was brain damaged upon arrival, due to the attempts by her attackers to smoother her, and keep her from screaming, she was said to have been in a coma since the 20th of april until she passed on today.

I remember blogging about another 5 year old that was kidnapped and raped in a building about a week ago, and the police offered her parents 2,000 ruppees to go away, another 6 year old was raped in a public toilet, and her attacker attempted to slash her throat.

I made mention of something grave about to happen, and now one of those 3 raped little girls has died, 3 cases of child rape in a month.

What is going on INDIA, are the authourities just going to fold their hands and watch the society become a den of perverts and child abusers, a society riddled with sex offenders and rapists?

This is a sad day indeed, in a country that was in the spotlight recently after the gruesome rape and death of the young woman in a bus,now this?

This needs to stop, I fear for the spill over effect.

I fear for the spill over effect.

Posted On The Move By The Priest

India Again-Another Child Raped and Left For Dead

Just a week after a 5 year old girl was raped in india,a 6 year old girl was discovered in a public bathroom in india, she was reported to have cuts deep cuts on her body and genital areas.

She has been taken to the hospital, and the doctors say she is in a stable condition.

What is wrong in india?
Are there mutants going around raping kids now?
Or do they need more government intervention and stiffer penalties.

For heaven’s sake, what is the gain in raping a 6 year old child and trying to mutilate her or even kill her?

The torture of rape is not enough? Her face and throat were slashed in an attempt to kill her,obviously trying to silence her, I am so sure the assailant is known to the family.

This is my second blog in a week on child molestation in india, to the indian officials,government and so called aid groups, why are these crimes still occuring? Are you waiting for a repeat of what happened in december?

Children are now targets in india, some sick men go around waiting to pick up little girls like vultures.

India stand up, and stop this now.

Posted On The Move By The Priest

Living With The Dominator-By Pat Craven.

The book,Living With The Dominator,sheds more light on various techniques used by abusers to control their partners.

It becomes a very valuable tool for those seeking a deeper understanding on how abusers operate and how they are able to keep their partners pinned down for such a long time.

The book exposes how the abuser uses various personalities to control and constantly abuse his partner, some are listed below

1-The bully-he uses shouting, physical attacks and sulking to keep his partner scared and timid

2-The Headworker-uses verbal and hateful slurs, such as saying his partner is too fat, too thin,too ugly, or genarally useless, to keep her always feeling inferior thus making her feel she will have no acceptance elsewhere

3-The sex controller- Uses forced sex I.e rape, and not taking no for an answer, basically refusing his partners advances and in common cases keeps her pregnant as a tool to keep her under his thumb.

The book has exposed the above listed personalities and more, thus helping those seeking more understanding and those in abusive relationships seeking a way out, have a better knowledge of who they are dealing with, and thus how to get away.

I urge you all to go get a copy for yourselves and also urge everyone you know to get a copy, knowledge is power, and this book gives knowledge and thus gives us all the power to end Domestic Violence.

This book and others can be found at http://www.amazon.com, search with the title.
And other book titles by Pat Craven can be found on her website along with training programmes


Thank you Pat, for your wonderful work in the UK and around the globe.

Reviewed By Arome Ameh-(ThePriest)

Posted On The Move By The Priest

Another Rape In India-She Is Just 5years Old

And it starts all over again,just when I think we are making progress, another disgusting headline, another person made a victim, another selfish rapist on the run, and another attempted cover up.

The victim in question is just 5 years old, a child, a baby herself in general terms, she was kidnapped from her home, by a man identified by the delhi police as the the kidnapper and rapist, and get this part, he is still at large, still no info on him.

She had been missing for a few days, neighbours reported hearing screams from the lower floor apartment, the parents were alerted, they gained access into the apartment and found the little girl, unfortunately the suspect had fled.

The father of the girl alleged the delhi police tried to buy his silence with 2,000 ruppees, just about $37, now is the the price the delhi police now pay to keep rape victims and their families quiet?, or is the price low because she is a child.

If this allegation by the victims father is true, then shame in the delhi police, why would they want to cover up such a terrible case of rape and child abuse, they would rather they don’t receive negative publicity at the risk of the rapist and child abuser on the lose?

I assure you, if he did it once, if not caught and convicted he will do it again, and it would get worse, at the point the child is in critical condition, she has undergone surgery, where a candle and small bottle were removed from inside her,OMG, from a 5 year old? And the police wanted to cover this up?

The doctors have also said the child had bruises and bite marks on her body, with very low blood pressure.

Why, why would someone do this, with the high profile rape and murder in the same town in december last year, we would hope things like this would have reduced, but unfortunately it keeps getting worse, now from women, to children, little girls.

Now will the politicians who accused the women of dressing in provocative manners, and causing themselves to be raped, are they going to accuse a 5 year old?

Are the victim blammers going to accuse this child for allowing herself be kidnapped and raped?

For everytime there is not stiff penalty for a rapist,I will continue to accuse the governments of such places for being the rapists, and this case the indian government, you have raped a 5year old girl child.

I pray for her survival, and I pray the rapist is caught and judged and punished accordingly.

By Arome Ameh (The-Priest)

Posted On The Move By The Priest