We stood in front of the newspaper stand,as solid
members of the free readers association of
Nigeria,we paid the vendor to normal fee,just to get
a glimpse of the days headlines and also the major
sport stories making their rounds.
I noticed him standing by the corner,reading the
newspaper in his hands very diligently, as if trying
to soak up each letter, he appeared totally oblivious
of our ensuing conversation.
A group of men had gotten into a heated argument
over a newspaper ad they had seen,which was
calling for unskilled workers, outside the country,
the conditions were easy to meet, the ad even
offered to train the migrants and pay their way.
In fairy tale land,such a lucrative offer would be
seen as normal, or rather your average everyday
happy ending,but in the real world, one would have
to know that there is a catch, because why would
someone or a company for that matter,established
for the sole purpose of profit and wealth generation
for the founders, invest so much in unskilled labor.
I always turned the page on such ads, but the men
arguing beside me seemed taken by what they saw,
and who would blame them, with the downward
spiral of the local and global economy, its not odd to
see people falling for all sorts of things they read or
They openly discussed how they wanted to make
preparations to send in applications, and one of
them went ahead and put a call across to the
advertiser, from the look on the callers face, the
information he received was like a dream come
true, and he was immediately hooked.
Their conversation ensued and with every point
they raised, they got more and more excited, the
men began dreaming of a better life, and were
deliriously excited by the prospect of leaving
Nigerian shores, well their day dream was
interrupted by the lone man I had talked about
earlier, no one had noticed him move closer in the
heat of the discussion.
He dropped the paper in his hand, politely took
the paper from one of the men discussing, and slowly
looked over the ad, smiled, returned the paper, and
gently said “don’t even try it”, turned and started to
walk away.
Everyone stood silent, watching him walk away,
until I asked why; forgive me, but I just had to know why
a man wouldn’t make such a comment if he wasn’t
privy to some form of information, he turned around and
smiled, then walked back to me, and said “why
not take my advice”, he then turned towards the
men and said, “who out of all of you, would pay a
monkey to drive your car”?
At this point,everyone was silent, he smiled again
and said “I didn’t think any of you would, so you
should all know that the ad you see is nothing but a
scam”, and immediately he said that, some of the
men replied back saying he was just a kill joy, and
was trying to discourage them so he could have all
the opportunities to himself, this didn’t sit well with
our mystery man, a slight frown formed on his face,
and that was when he decided to speak.
“Like you I always hoped for greener pastures, honey
flowing from taps, a fat wallet and a place where
electricity never went off, I won’t judge you for
wanting all those things, you are human, and its
natural to want comfort, but on the other hand,
some humans take advantage of our desires and
decide to use it against us, humans are dangerously
callous and cruel, especially when they have the
opportunity to benefit immensely from it.
About 2 years ago, I was searching desperately for
employment, I had come to Lagos hoping to find a
job, nothing too fancy, just a job that ensured I got
paid and enabled me feed myself and pay my rent,
and also give me the financial freedom to take care
of those I left behind.
Imagine my pleasure when I came across the ad, it
was like a prayer answered, it felt like cold water
running down my back on a hot day, I called,just as
you did, I was given all the details, I met with them,
they were nice and very sympathetic,they sorted all
my travel arrangements, got me a new
passport,and they even gave me some money to
travel back home and break the “good news” to my
parents, they held my new passport as bait, this
ensured I was coming back.
I sure did come back, and after a few days I was on
a flight to the new world, to start my new job on a
so called oil rig, when we arrived, we were taken to
a house, I say we because we were 5 Nigerians,3
Ghanaians and 1 Kenyan, we all met at the airport.
When we arrived at the home, we met some other
men there, they were not as friendly and as patient
as the others back home, we sat for hours waiting
for what we didn’t know, and it was getting quite
hot, after an endless wait, a woman came in, and
asked us to submit our passports, according to her
it was for safe keeping, and since they had
collected my passport before and returned it to me,
I didn’t see anything wrong with it,but that was the
beginning of my nightmare.
A few hours later, a large truck pulled up to the
house, some scary looking men walked in, the
asked us to unpack our bags and take only the
essentials, at that point I was getting worried,
suddenly we were made to fall into a single line,and
we walked out towards the truck, it was dark, but I
could see other men and they had guns, at this
point I was really really worried, we got to the truck
and one after the other, we got stamped on the
neck, it was like being branded, a little pain and you
got shoved into the truck.
We were shoved into the truck, they locked it from
the outside, and suddenly I felt the truck moving, I
don’t know how long the journey took, but it was a
long time,maybe a couple of days at most, we only
stopped when they wanted to feed us, which was
always bread and a can of coke and little water, and
they gave us a few minutes to relieve ourselves, it
was horrible in the truck, it was stuffy and a lot of
the other men had motion sickness, they had
running tummies, and threw up, the stench was
mind blowing.
We eventually got to a town, I was handed over to
another man, who put me in the back of another
truck, we eventually got to his home, which was a
farm, there I realized I had actually been brought to
work as a farm hand, I asked him for my passport
and he laughed and told me to stop asking stupid
questions, he showed me to a stall, where I would
I met 2 others there, a man and a woman, they had
been there for a couple of months, that night the
farm owner called me up to the main house, he gave
me an envelop, I thought to myself, finally I have my
passport back, but to my horror it contained
addresses and phone numbers of my family
members, and also pictures which showed I had
been followed.
The envelope also contained an invoice, which
showed how much had been spent to get me there,
and how long I would have to work to repay my debt
and get my documents back, the owner went
further to let me know in very clear terms what
would happen to my family if I tried to escape.
I went back to the stall,confused,surprised,afraid
and in shock, but slowly the reality dawned on me,I
was now a slave.
It was difficult to adjust, I always tried to figure out
a way to escape, but it was never possible, simply
because I didn’t even know where I was,I didn’t
speak the language, I was made to cut grass,plant,
feed animals,clean up after them,things I would
never do in Nigeria, even if I got paid, and here I
was doing it for free.
We were fed once a day, except on Saturdays, we
got chicken legs in our meal, and every other
week,one or two new “slaves” would arrive,I
wondered how this kept happening and no one ever
suspected, it was like a scene from “roots”, people
working on the plantation, the master and his staff
constantly keeping watch to ensure no one tried to
run away.
“It was a hopeless situation”
I remember one night, we were rushed out of the
stalls were we slept, into and underground
bunker,we were kept there for a whole day, it
reminded me of the truck that had brought me
there, we later learnt that some government
inspectors had been on a tour.
I spent months ,I was starved,I was beaten,beaten
some more,I was losing hope.
There was a fire outbreak on the farm,in the
confessions, a lot of us escaped, we parted ways
when we got into town,I roamed around for a few
days until I was picked up by the police,I told them
all that had happened to me, but I was unable to
locate the farm, I was detained for a couple more
days, until I was eventually deported back to Nigeria

“It felt wonderful being deported”

It was a relief coming back home, but there was
also shame and fear,I stayed back in Lagos for a
few months after that, trying on menial jobs just to
raise some cash, but mostly out of fear,these men
still had my passport,they had vital info on me,info I
was stupid enough to provide.
I tried to locate the office I went to after I spoke with
them on the phone, but they had since left that
building, I was afraid to report to the police, because I
simply didn’t know what would happen to my family.
The fire provided my escape,I was trafficked,I was
caught in a trap like a rat,I was sold,I was a
It happens,there are thousands of Nigerians and
other nationalities out there who are suffering the
same fate, and if after hearing this, you still decide to go on with it, I bid you God speed.

He dropped the paper down neatly, and limped away.

Posted by Arome Ameh (The Priest) From WordPress for Android


Dear Me……..


Dear Me,
How are you this fine day?
I hope all is well with you and yours? I am sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you for a while, been too busy enjoying a certain false sense of security and purpose, but last night it all became clear, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I have been sad ever since, so I decided to write you this letter.

I realized how selfish I have become over time, how I claim to be worried about everything going around me, how I always seem to want to contribute to all issues I can lay my hands on, trying to pass myself off as a hero among men, when in reality, there was a more deep seeded and a more sinister reason.

I realized that on more that numerous occasions, I cry blue murder against the govt and custodians of our so called democracy, on their inconsistencies, while the truth if the matter is I look into the mirror and realize I am becoming just like those I claim to loath and despise.

When I tweet, deep quotes, and try to express my obvious anger and distaste for the goings on in the polity, do I do this because I am genuinely pained, or do I do it for just the likes and retweets? Well I guess on some level part of me is very upset, but it is quickly over shadowed by that part of me that is constantly checking my mentions, to see how many re-tweets I have been able to gather, and how many followers said tweet has been able to round up, then secretly smile and my seemingly growing popularity.

I seem to have become an acclaimed scholar, with a wide scope on knowledge on every issue, so without hesitation or a second thought, I am quick to pen down my thoughts and views, no matter how biased and shallow they appear to be, and while on the surface it appears I am pushing for change, I quietly go through my site stats and smile at growing number of views, comments and pats on the back.

This realize has led me to understand how deep my selfishness has gone, forgetting why I decided to voice my pleasure in the first place.

I decided to write you this letter so I could ask some questions and maybe find more clarity.

When I tweet, why do I tweet, and for whose benefit?

When I update my status of facebook and bbm, for whose benefit?

When I write, why do I write, for whose benefit do I write?

Proposed rallies and walks, do I attend for the purpose of change, or just an opportunity for selfies and self gratification.

These are questions I hope to get answers to eventually.

And just like in George Orwell’s animal farm, the pigs who claimed to be fighting for reforms against their so called oppressors, now suddenly sleep in beds, wear clothes and shoes, and have assumed the very nature and appearance of those, they claimed to loathe.

I could go on, but I will stop here, read this letter with an open mind, if it hurts you in anyway, trust me, it was not my intention.

Yours sincerely

Posted by Arome Ameh (The Priest) From WordPress for Android



I wake up every morning, and I follow the same routine, I get out of bed, say a quick prayer, well not as much as I used to pray, because well let’s face it, am not a very religious person anymore, especially not after what happened, anyway I tidy up my room, and go into the kitchen, to wash the dishes if any, do some house chores if any, take a bath, and sit outside my little room, and stare at people as they walk by on their day to day activities.

I am not allowed to leave the compound, not alone anyway, I am labelled a dis-appointment, a scarlet woman if you will, a repeat of history, but with certain modifications, am sorry if I have you confused, I’ll slow down a bit, and break it down for you step by step.

I am 21 years old, my name is adhra, I live with my grandfather, or rather I live in his compound, I am not allowed into the main house, and basically my interaction with people both within the house and outside is largely limited, you may begin to ask yourself, “what is she rambling on about”.

Let me start with a little history lesson, my grandmother died, giving birth to my mother, and so she was raised largely by my grandfather, with whom I live with today, my mother also died giving birth to me, and yes,grandad raised me too, traditionally, there is this myth surrounding us, they say we are the same person re-incarnating, but that’s just an old wives tale, we don’t live in the stone age anymore.

I have a father, I never knew him growing up, but I eventually met him, and the circumstances would make you understand why I am being treated the way I am.

My mother was raped, by my father, and I was the result of the rape, some say she died of shame, others say she was a witch, others say she was my grandmother, coming back again, I don’t really care.

My father denied any wrong doing, and was never punished for any wrong doing, but he named me adhra, which means “an apology”, if he didn’t do anything wrong, then why was he apologizing?

My grandfather took care of me, he sent me to school, he provided for me, and always took every opportunity to remind me of how he never wanted me to be like my mother, see the thing is he always blamed her for getting pregnant, he attributed it to her being lose and wayward, and as a result getting pregnant, so he made it a point of duty to keep me away from boys

I was a nursing student, I would leave home, go directly to class, and come directly back home, I was never allowed to stay in the hostels, or even have reading groups, no parties, and no unusual outings, they didn’t bother me much, I was just happy to be doing what I do.

We lived on the outskirts of town, not too far off, but you couldn’t walk to the nearest house, so you do the math, I left class a little bit late, and got stuck at the bus top, waiting for the last bus going my way, we eventually left and I got to my stop rather late, it was not very dark, the moon was out, I was walking across the corn field leading to the house and I saw some men sitting and smoking, they fell silent immediately they saw me, I don’t really know why, but I immediately started running when I saw them,they chased me, they caught me, they beat me, they raped me,they were 4 men, not boys, but men.

They left me, and they ran away, I found my way home, and went straight to my grandfather, I told him what had happened, and he immediately called me a liar, he said he knew this day would come, and that he had been expecting it.

He walked away, without a word, I left and went into my room, the next day I went to the hospital and spoke to the matron, she called the police immediately and I was asked if I could identify them,I said yes.

About a week later, I was invited to the police station, to identify those suspected to have raped me, I was able to identify 2 of them, the police took me home, and invited my grandfather to the station along with me, to formally press charges. When we got to the station, my grandpa saw the men, he walked over to get a better look, and he immediately grabbed one of them, cursed and said a lot of words I never knew he could utter.

We left the station in silence, grandpa didn’t utter a word when we got home, he called me to the living room later that evening, and he explained why he had acted the way he did.

The man whom he had attacked at the station was my father, now you see why I said we met under unpalatable terms,I was dazed,shocked,and sick to my stomach, my immediate fear was getting pregnant, I knew they were others, but the thought of being raped by my biological father was too much to take.

The saddest part was my grandpa blamed me, he said it was inherited from my mother, and my lose ways and pretense had finally caught up with me, he blamed me, for being raped, by my own father.

A few months later, I was told I needed to run some tests, just to be sure, I wasn’t pregnant, but I had been infected with the HIV virus, at that point I wish I was pregnant. It took some time and counselling to come to terms with everything, the nurses have been kind to me, but grandpa decided to isolate me, he still provides for me, I will be resuming my studies soon, but he caters for me mostly out of obligation and nothing else.

My father and the other man, remain in police custody awaiting trail, the rest have still not been found yet.

Written By Arome Ameh(The Priest)

If Symptoms Persist……….


The first time I noticed my son’s odd habit was when I carried him on my legs in church, I realized he would become quite uncomfortable when my hand was not resting on his crotch, not his thigh, but his crotch, at first I thought maybe he was in pain, and I initially got worried, bit I later noticed his hands where going between my legs, this was not an unconscious action, he knew exactly what he was doing, because I brushed his hand away and gave him a stern look, but moments later I noticed he was doing it again, so I had to drop him off my legs and made him sit on a chair by himself, and did I mention my son was just 4 years old?

When we got home, I brought it to the attention of my husband, and in his usual manner he tried to make light of it, and even chastised me for even thinking our own son would be trying to get fresh with me, maybe he just misses you, he obviously doesn’t know what he is doing or where his hands where, my husband said, and after-all you are gone before he wakes up, and in bed before you return, so don’t blame the boy for trying to get as much attention from you as he possibly can, he added, but I was not convinced, what if my son had been exposed to pornography or had started hanging out with bad kids, I mean it’s never too early to start, especially in this day and age, it made me worry.

The next day I called his teacher on the phone and asked her to keep an eye on him, I told her I had noticed some changes in him and I didn’t want the damage to be irreversible, my son’s teacher assured me she would do her best to make sure he wasn’t exposed to the wrong set of people, satisfied with her response I laid all my worries to rest.

A few weeks later I noticed some strange with my son, I had taken my annual vacation and decided to spend it with my husband and son, on this day I was giving him a bath, and he kept on saying it’s mummy’s turn to suck on the straw, at first I thought it was a nursery rhyme, not until I saw him grab hold of his penis, and repeated the words he said earlier “it’s mummy’s turn to suck the straw”, and while he held his penis, I noticed it was getting erect, now don’t get me wrong, I have noticed his erection before, in these cases it usually meant he needed to wee-wee, or he was just waking up from a nap or something, in other words very involuntary actions, but this time I felt he was getting aroused, I was so embarrassed I stood up, brought him out of the bath and quickly wrapped him up in a towel, I did all this without looking at him.
I immediately told my husband, and this time I didn’t take it lightly, he saw the seriousness in me and together we grilled our little boy, until he opened up and told us where he learnt the song.

Sometimes you see a lot of things reported on TV and in the papers, and you say to yourself, do these things really happen, or are they stories fabricated by the media to get the attention of the masses, or for print media and soft sell magazines to make a quick buck, and if at all they happen, who would be so blind as to allow it escalate to such an alarming point. Well I was about to understand that these things actually happened, and it was happening to my little boy, the words I would never forget, after long minutes of question and some threats from my husband, he finally opened up, “aunty Tola said she likes to suck my straw and I should not let anyone suck it, and that I should always put my hands inside her pants because it makes her happy”.

I collapsed on the floor, when I heard my son say those words, at first I didn’t believe him, but I realized how on earth a four year old child, would come up with such a story, I stared at my husband, he stared back at me, we were both speechless, and our son stood between us, weeping, I instinctively pulled him close and hugged him tight, and silently blamed myself for not noticing earlier.

We stormed his school, and went straight to the principal’s office, where we explained everything to him and even got our son to tell him exactly what he had told us, the principal was quite upset and summoned aunty Tola to his office immediately, she denied everything, blaming everything my son had said on him having a very active imagination, at this point my husband was hot with rage, and he began threatening to involve the police, and not until my husband actually brought out his phone and began dialing a number, aunty tola fell on her knees begging and crying, and proceeded to blame the devil, we all stared at her in bewilderment, what on earth would possess a full grown woman to sexually abuse a four year old boy, a child put in your care, to protect and nurture, you turn around and hurt, we called the police and she was arrested, I quit my job, and became a full time mum, what would be my gain, if I had all the wealth and ended up with a disturbed and abused child.

By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

A Father’s Nightmare


From the day I found out I was going to be a dad, everything changed for me, I grew up almost instantly, and I was determined to be the best husband and father I could be.

My wife was a wonderful woman, she brought me joy beyond measure, and I remember always teasing her, about giving me a copy of herself, so I could have two of them, and she did just that, our daughter; Claudia was born, June 12th, 1988, that was the second happiest day of my life, the first being my wedding day.

I held Claudia in my arms, she stared up at me with her big cute eyes, and I promised her I would never let anything happen to her, I swore I would rather die, than see any harm come to her, and I meant it.

The years passed, and Claudia grew up, she was normal, and went through all the stages, the “I hate boys” stage, which was my personal favorite, the “I am aware of my body/I want boys to notice me” stage, didn’t like that stage very much, and then the “I am a grown woman, off to college stage”, I had dreaded this stage from the day she was born, but her mother always said, “you cannot hide her under your wing forever”, she was right, I had to let her go and hope everything would be alright.

Claudia left, I wasn’t worried, I knew she was going to be fine, I knew she would be fine.

In her usual way she breezed through college, time went by with Claudia, as though some cosmic force was in a hurry to see her grow up, don’t get me wrong, I was happy my baby was achieving things in leaps and bounds, but sometimes I just got worried, worried that everything was moving too fast.

After college she decided work for herself as an IT consultant, she might as well, because I never saw her as a nine to five woman anyway, she stayed with us, I mean there was no point living on her own, call me old fashioned, but I never saw it as a right thing for a single woman to live alone, but secretly it was my own little way of keeping both my girls as close to me as i possibly could.

Then he happened……..

She met him, while consulting for a firm here in town, and from the way she always talked about him, I knew she was smitten, my little girl was finally in-love, don’t get me wrong though, she had been in-love lots of times, and she had fallen out of love lots of times too, but there was something about this that was different, I could feel it, and even though I didn’t like it, I was happy for my baby.

Claudia and ikenna got married after just a year of dating, he owned a small transport company, and was doing well for himself, he was a nice boy, nothing too extra-ordinary about him, he had only his mother, he had informed me he father passed away a few years before, I was against an early marriage, they were going too fast I thought, but my wife, and other family members, would not allow me slow things down, well I guess it was an African thing, I remember my wife saying “be happy she has found someone who is responsible enough to marry her, you have a good daughter, so be grateful”, and after she said that, I let it all go, and gave my blessing.

A few months into the marriage, I began noticing changes in Claudia, I noticed she didn’t answer her calls like she used to, I mean I knew she was married now, and had other responsibilities, but 8 out of 10 times, her husband would answer her calls, and would always tell me she would call back, and whenever she called back, her excuses always seemed rehearsed, and there was this forced cheerfulness about her now, I knew something was wrong.

I told my wife about it, and she dismissed it, she said I worried too much, and that I should give them space, I tried to give them space, but when Claudia came to visit one Sunday afternoon, I knew something was seriously wrong.

We just got back from church, and we met Claudia at the front door, she looked broken, her smile was a tired smile, her eyes were filled with fear and suspicion, this was not my Claudia, I tried hard to get her to tell me what was wrong, but she wouldn’t budge, and at a point she really got upset with me, told me to mind my business, and left the house, I was furious and immediately got on the phone with her husband ikenna, and asked him to see me immediately.

He came over that evening, and I told him in very plain terms, that I didn’t like the way Claudia was looking when she came over earlier, his surprised look, showed me he didn’t know she had been here, and he suddenly seemed very agitated, and while I spoke and proceeded to give him some fatherly advice, I noticed his fist clenching, he was really getting worked up, and so I stopped, I told him to take things easy, and no matter what problems there might seem to be now, they could both work it out.

He left, and I was troubled.

Later that night, I asked my wife if Claudia had told her about any troubles she was having at home, she denied any knowledge of any problems Claudia might be having, and since I had agitated two people already, I decided not to push this anymore; maybe I was just being paranoid.

Later that night I woke up troubled, I just couldn’t sleep, I felt something was terribly wrong, and when I tapped my wife to see if she was asleep, I noticed her eyes were red, not from sleep, but from crying, my heart missed a beat, and I asked her in a very stern tone, to tell me what was going on, she went on to tell me that ikenna had been beating Claudia, my baby, the same child I had never laid my hands on, and when I asked why she had not told me all this before now, she said she was afraid as to how i might react.

I was furious, I got out of bed, got dressed and headed for Claudia’s home, and I was going to put a stop to this once and for all, my heart was racing and I felt sick in my stomach, I pulled up at their home, and immediately went in, it was very quiet, the lights were on, I tried to open the door, but it was locked, so I banged on it, a neighbor emerged from out back and motioned for me to come over, she told me they had been loud screams coming from their flat, and that ikenna had left a few minutes before I arrived, we went to the back door and forced it open, I ran into the house calling out for my Claudia, I was panicking, and then suddenly saw her laying on the couch in the living room, I rushed to her, my heart sank when I saw her, her eyes had been beaten shut, the had a swollen lip, and bruises all over her arms, she could barely move, she could barely speak, and when I tried to carry her up, she winced in pain, and that was when I noticed the blood, the couch was soaked with it, she had a large gash in her side, and it looked like a stab wound, she was bleeding, I quickly picked her up, grabbed a towel from the kitchen in an attempt to stop the bleeding, I put her in the car and drove to the hospital with the nice neighbor lady, I called my wife on the way.
We arrived at the hospital, she was immediately rushed into surgery, while I waited for my wife to arrive, I called ikenna’s number severally, it rang for a bit, and after a while it was switched off, I called the police, and explained everything, they sent two officers to the hospital to see things for themselves, my wife arrived and she was beside herself, she wept without control, I didn’t attempt to console her, all I wanted was to find ikenna and ask the question, why did he do this to my child?
The police arrived and took statements from myself and the nice neighbor lady, they had to wait for my wife to calm down, before they could ask her any questions, Claudia was still in surgery when I left with the police to make a former complaint, I got to the station, wrote my statement again, and left.
Claudia died a few hours after surgery, she had lost too much blood, she had broken ribs and a punctured lung, my baby had been beaten to death, and I was not there to protect her.

Ikenna was arrested and charged with murder, he was not charged with abuse, just murder, the police simply stated they didn’t have substantial evidence to bring abuse charges against him, no one had ever reported abuse, and her wounds could be as a result of anything.
I was there when Claudia was born, I helped pick out her first bed, I picked out her first bike, I walked her to school on her first day, I helped pick out her first car, and now I picked out her casket.
I don’t understand it; I never raised my hand to hit my wife or child, why did he take my baby away from me.
I made a promise to Claudia, never to let any harm come to her, I didn’t keep that promise, and I let that bastard take her away from me.
He was charged with just murder, not abuse.

By Arome Ameh (The Priest)

Posted by Arome Ameh (The Priest) From WordPress for Android


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