​There is something about Mondays. I don’t know if it’s the feeble fear that lurks somewhere behind the “faith” I bear or the fret and fright of standing for four hours.

  Yes! four blessed hours of sonorous choruses, effectual exegesis and pulsating praises that harmonizes with the angel’s adulation to the Almighty.

  Being an executive in a fellowship like mine isn’t easy,but then, thinking about it, is anything easy? 

   The enthralling fact about the hours spent is that either the sky sheds torrent of tears or blows zephyr in zealous zest, we neither move or flinch, we stand firmly, praying.


      It was one of those Mondays when the sky decided to smile and shed tears simultaneously. The light but consistent drizzling had drenched a few, and some newbies were shaking already.

  When he said we should link hands, I found it strange. The best we do is to hold hands, to indicate unity, to help a fellow brethren and to flow with one mind and purpose,but linking of hands? That was weird.

  His name was ken, we called him ken, Kendrick, kennedy and any suffix anybody felt would sound nice when added to ken. Amidst us is “Fache”, the pretty damsel from Kogi whose pronunciation people had murdered and Aileburu Rhoda, the edo girl who looks Yoruba more than any other tribe. We have Ikoabasi and Chimduito, the southern belles with blazing dazing beauty alongside Fadirepo and Akingbade, the typical Yoruba warrior lineage. I remembered Okpala, the dark medicine dude that writes beautifully and Olanipekun, the tall Yoruba man, who is darker than a northerner.

   When ken asked us to sing the second stanza of the national anthem or do I say,pray the national anthem? I felt Nigeria praying; It was Nigeria praying! Tribal and geographical differences was buried as we found reasons to reason in unison…and I asked, can we be united?

  I met a young and brilliant chap who runs a pet project “MagniAfrica” on IG.  Interacting with him reminded me of the beauty in unity and the beauty of diversity. So can the Biafra stop threatening us with secession? Can boko haram and fulani herdsmen stop? In our corner, bed spaces and rooms, can we stop castigating anyone from a different clan? 
   There is this ominous news about secession looming loudly around us, so what happens to “United we stand, divided we fall.”. It starts with us, with our kind words, acts and deeds to our neighbour despite the tribal disparities. Remember, the beauty that exists in diversity and embrace unity… 

Fiery feminist; Proclaiming purity

​Deep breathe, deep sigh…click.

My fingers begin another series of energetic display, dancing joyfully on the beautifully coated hp system sitting comfortably at an angle 180 degrees from my eyelids.

   Sometimes I wonder what kind off system I will like to own, most likely a touch screen hp that is neither big nor small, maybe 14 inches or is 12? I don’t even know those measurements, God you can hear me right? I’m sure you wondering “why not A Mac?” 

I have always been a feminist, consciously or unconsciously, maybe because I spent my first year in the university hearing the rather ludicrous phrase “He walks and talks like a girl”. Can you imagine the embarrassment that slapped my face the day I entered a female hostel(Mozambique) and a whole block(Block O) came out to watch the “boy that talked and walked like a girl”?, dozens of eyeballs darted at me like the ninja’s flying daggers and their words were like a Samurai’s sword, piercing my ego, cutting through my masculinity.

  My male colleagues, yabbed, jested,made fun of and advised me to stop “behaving like a girl”, I don’t know if I took their advice or not. 

  My poetic colleagues, thought I was a feminist too, they said I blame guys for ladies woes, don’t I know ladies are stupid too and stupidity is meant to be exploited.at least that’s what they think.

“Its better be his friend, He is a feminist o, an advocate of feminism” 

It was one the most respected lecturers in the department addressing my colleagues in a developmental economics class, as their raucous rancorous chorus of disorganised chatter was preventing the decibels of my voice from being effective.

  So I had the floor, and I maximised it, I talked about Zuriel Oduwole, the youngest celebrity to be listed on Forbes magazine(A female), about Malala Yousoufzai, the youngest winner of a Nobel Prize, and the youngest personality to ever address a UN gathering(as at the time she did).  The lecturer appreciated my efforts and ordered an applause…. I smiled, sat down, but the words “ He is an advocate of feminism” stuck like glue…I don’t know what I felt, but I wasn’t the same.

  The class birthed a poem, a poem that will later win a national poetry competition(it was only a token that was attached o) and will get published in an anthology later this year. Can you guess the title of the poem?

 Your name is sheri, you are the graciously gorgeous pretty belle that has decided to “gift” yourself to every Tom Dick and Harry, who comes around. Its not really your fault, it’s the fault of that shameless uncle who couldn’t find a better place to empty his dangling rod than inside an innocent immatured funnel. You cursed under your breathe as his heavy body did a see-saw on your flat tummy…. You still hear his coarse voice play chaotic cadence on your eardrums;


    He didn’t have to warn you. Who would listen to you? Is it your father whom you see just once a week? Or your mum who buys you all the goodies but never met your real needs.

  So now, you are the reckless belle cruising like a Dangote’s trailer with broken brake,… and those guys? They are just another version of your uncle,and your cousin who took delight in making heaps at the fallow land your uncle had cleared..only God knows how many guys would till the land and make heaps before you get useless,helpless, and hopeless…. Would you please take a break and apply brake?

5. Few days ago, In my bid to preach purity, a guy who engaged me told me that he wont feel bad if his sister is being jilted cause he would cheat a lady too…….and the evil cycle continues?

  The abused girl, becomes the insecure promiscuous lady, who has a collapsed marriage and gives birth to a wayward daughter so who stops the endless callous cycle?

  29 days ago I started a project titled 30days for purity, since I started, I have spoken in online and offline conferences, being appreciated, being criticised, being questioned, being acknowledged…..  but by God’s I am still standing.

  Reports reaching me says some people MAY have torn my “No Sex Until Marriage” vest and burnt it out of anger, I haven’t confirmed that…even if they did, I think it’s one of the price I have to pay for proclaiming what I believe in.


  In 48 hours time, I will join people from across the world to celebrate World Virginity day. I Think I will prefer it’s called World purity day. Our message is simple; In the world where immorality is publicly displayed, purity should be fiercely proclaimed. If you are still standing, stay strong, if you have fallen, we serve a God who lifts up, if you have been abused, broken or battered, we served a God who specializes in healing and comforting……. . At ife, You can join us at MFMCF religious ground, OAU. You can follow mineministry and @officialnosum on Instagram,Facebook and any other  social media platform.

   A big appreciation to EVERYONE who participated in 30daysforpurity,

Oladele Michael,Emmanuel Michael,Atere Timilehin,Adekunle Samuel,Precious Oluwadahunsi, Idowu Omotola, Mayor yakes, Deborah Oluwabori, Adebiyi Temilorun, Mayor yakes….and many more…God bless you all…


P:S- I am open to any invitation from, schools, meetings, conferences, organizations, institutions and any other platform as far as the themes; purity, gender equality, feminism and related themes is concerned..you can reach me on 08179001180….till I write again always remember

“We cannot always bend the world into the shape we want, but we can try, we can always make concerted efforts”

 Chimamanda Adichei, Wellesley 2015.

Fourteen days of forte and fun


You had always longed for an internship, you were desperate about it. You sacrificed everything, everything a student would, your time, your money, your energy and even your CGPA. What do you call writing an essay when your mates were reading for a test and missing a test because of an interview? So when you FINALLY got one, you grabbed it. Not considering the alternatives forgone, which included suspending two major projects you were working on, missing three weeks of lectures amongst other things. 

  You took one week class in finance after your exams, since your internship was in a finance firm, thank God you did, it will later save you, and give you an edge.

“You will pay fine for always using sir and ma,”

 The compliance officer said. You smiled. You can’t comprehend how you are supposed to address people that are old enough to be your big aunty or even mother by name, but you have to.

  You settle at your work station. Your work station is a system connected to an internet, nothing more, nothing less. So you discover a part of you – you can’t sit down in an office for eight hours, so you are sure you won’t pursue that aspect of finance after school.

  Your work is intriguing, it’s very insightful. You read the stock markets like a Wall Street analyst, you watch companies shares rise and fall like see-saw in parks and garden, you advise investors, the big ones and small. SELL,HOLD, BUY and guess what? They obey you. 

  You know the worth, THE REAL worth of Dangote, of Unilever and other big firms. You are wondering why there are so much Dangote, DANGFLOUR,DANGCEM,DANSA, and every other company that starts with “DAN”. You remember a Yoruba proverbs that says “owo olowo n’olowo nna,” the rich makes his money from everyone’s money. You watch the top gainers in stock market yesterday become the top losers today and you realize a life lesson, No condition is permanent. 

 You also realize that in the real world, your grades only open the door , your brain keeps you in.

  You are doing a training, with ICAN ,ACCA,MASTERS and potential CFAs certified people. You are in your B.sc finals, you haven’t even started lectures, so you are tactically still in your penultmate, yet you contribute, and people understand.

  You talk about hedge funds, mutual funds,toxic assets, EBIT,EBITA, EBIDTA and other things those lecturers whose delight is in giving you C and Ds would never teach you.  You’ve spent two weeks and you haven’t done a single dy/dx,so you are asking for the umpteenth time, WHY AM I STUYDYING ECONOMICS?


There is a public holiday, so you accept a friend’s invitation to pay her a visit, you have actually received about ten invites from different friends, but you kept declining because you prefer to spend your free time at home, with yourself, your brilliant brother and lovely mum…but she is…unique…she is one of those few ladies who knows almost something about everything.

    She welcomes you with the taunt of Arsenal beating Chelsea, you try to soften the effect by succumbing easily, then you talk about Rafael nadal,roger Federer and Andy murray. She shares her thoughts about champions celebrity and complacency and you learn another life lesson, Yesterday’s success is a major hindrance to today’s progress and tomorrow’s success. So beware.

  She tells you serena Williams is now number two and then you watch a French program. You share thoughts about relationship, how her youth pastor said ladies are emotional and guys are logical, you dispute that postulation and create yours, then she offers you bread, wheat bread, boiled egg and butter with a chilled coke to send it off.

   You talk about Mark Zuckerberg and his Harvard delivery, Richard leigh and his well punctuated poetry, chemistry, physics, geography and then books since you are both vast readers. She says she hasn’t read Redeeming Love because nearly everyone around her has, you reply by saying you have read it seven times, SEVEN GOOD TIMES. She is dazed, gazed and amazed. She shows you one of her book reviews and the opening lines read

“The author throws the climax at the reader’s face in the opening paragraph” , you read the line over and again, and you ask, Tayo did you write this? Some thoughts are tussling to and fro rapidly in your head but words can’t seem to bring them forth, so you just stare and smile.

   Her mum comes back and she looked prettier than the first time you met her, that was when someone with heinous hands and heartless heart stole her daughter’s system in your care, it was a bad first impression. But today was different; she was wearing a purple gown, a purple flowery flowing gown. You love purple, it depicts royalty, you love flowery outfits too, your mum says it’s a unique trait, your friends says it’s only the female that should like flowery outfit, was something beautiful made for female eyes alone?

  She makes a polite request that you should follow her to Ojota to deliver something for her daughter, the one who is your friend, and your host’s sister but your host says you are her visitor, so you are torn between two thoughts; Would you please the daughter and enjoy myriad of intellectual conversation or please the mother and learn a bit more about the adult world? You choose the latter. There has been a chasm between the older generation and yours ad you don’t intend to fall victim of that gap.

 After an insightful and fun-filled time, you head home, at oshodi, you get confused again, should you take BRT or MOLUE? It was past six already and you told your mum you will be back by six. There are always people in Lagos, people like ghosts in the graveyard and spectators watching champions league final, so you are shocked neither of both buses are filling up. While wandering about what to do, you hear bike-man scream, Iyana-Ipaja , you ask how much, he says 150, you felt it was cheap, since bus was 150 to, but he was carrying two of you so you shrugged, you’d later wish you hadn’t .  You love bikes, you like to bask in the aura of the speed and blowing breeze. You have taken long distances before, like from IFE to ODEOMU or from IWO Road to OKEADO and U.I to , MOLETE, its crazy but you love it, you know you’d own a powerbike soon but for now you just enjoy his. There was traffic, heavy traffic, in Lagos it’s called STANDSTILL, it’s like Staying on a spot for about 45 minutes, its killing, frustrating and annoying, because you are just stuck and helpless. But you see, the beauty of bike is that they beat traffic, they maneuver dangerous bends and curves, zoom in and out of trailers and trucks, jump behind danfo and land in front of jeep, but THEY BEAT TRAFFIC, who cares about how they do?

 You get to iyanaipaja at 6:21, a journey of about 45 minutes +x where x stands for traffic was travelled in about 17 minutes. You are glad. You give the man 500, you add 50 naira so that he will give you 400 naira change, he smiles and say bros thanks o, but you ask for your change and he looks dumfounded, the other guy pays 500 too and doesn’t collect change, he tells you its 500 and its your turn to be dumbfounded.

“I thought you said 150,”

“No boss, its 500”.

 You shake your head, you stare at the few currencies left in your wallet, they were scanty, really scanty, you rmember how you bragged to your brother earlier in the day that you prefer to use money to buy time, you just did that. You sluggishly close your wallet, darted across the road to board another bus home, but you learn a lesson, Always make lucid clarifications before any transaction.

You are at your work-station, you just finished a class on Bloomberg. You have some reports to write, some data to upload and some minutes to type. You remember a poetry competition closing today and you haven’t written the first line. How do one combine career with passion, or make your passion your career as those career counselor use to advise. Your let the cold air permeating from the AC blow the question away. Your body is sitting but your mind is in school, what’s the essence of school, you ask again? You look up and you’ve typed three pages……you exclaim…. Type the last paragraph, thank everyone reading this……appreciate your fellowship,  your friends,MINE and those who have kept in touch, you’d see them all in 96 hours, but for now, you have to get back to work.

I was supposed to write part two,but this post was long enough…maybe part two will come before Friday…a big thanks to everyone who checked on me…thanks for the calls,texts and WhatsApp messages..Gos bless you…this post is dedicated to Kayo Tayo,thanks for being an amazing host.

Meadowed Monday.

​I have always hated Maths. I detest the array of numbers, figuring out figures, angles and all other numerical gibberish. The part I loathe most is word problems, you know that annoying feeling right?

    My seconday school teacher, Mrs Olawale, who interestingly didn’t understand Yoruba did her very best to make me understand maths, but her efforts were like vigorously fetching barrels of water and emptying it rapidly in a new basket. I will later discover she was a southern belle that fell in love with a south-western guy and married him despite the huge tribal disparities and families’ one sided mentality. More brave warriors like her are needed in this extremely patriarchal and tribal biased nation.

  So when I was given, or do I say God gave me Economics as a course of study, you can imagine my height of frustration. The series of differentiation and integration are Nations I hate with passion and having to do calculation daily? That’s the peak of declination in assimilation.

    Are you wondering how I have been surviving? Well, I don’t know…. I have had all the grades they used to give except the one that makes you re-do a course so nothing bulges me. I read, pray solve, solve and solve again and when I see my result, no matter what it is…I thank God because I won’t retake the course and I move on,after all,John Maxwell said you ain’t a failure until you fail to try again.

   You have heard the cliché, “An economist can work anywhere” right?  So an economist can work in finance, academics,petroleum and many other sectors,….at least those are the first three major sectors my department lay emphasis on. 

    I detest finance, because I hate numbers…..but in the next three weeks I will be doing what I don’t fancy, I will be in a finance firm sorting out, numbers, figures, shares stocks and other things they do on stock exchange…at least…for now.

  I will also be wearing tie, shirts and tie for three weeks consecutively, THAT’S TORTURE. I have lately become a fan of corporate casual(Thanks to Unilever, and my newly found passion; social media management) so  I will really  miss the comfort of round-neck on jean.

I will miss school, my fellowship, the executives in particular. 

I will experience what the “corporate world is”. Like those young graduates, I will hustle from the dusty roads of ipaja, to the skyscrapers in Ikoyi, after hopping on and off bike, bus and brt.

   I will write a blog after, but for now….its good bye to blogging.
P:S, I am presently doing a 30 days poetry challenge on instagram. Its dedicated to those who embrace sexual purity and advocate sexual purity. Yea, I know that sounds weird, but Its God’s word, so its always right. To participate, just write any poem, prose or fiction ,post on Ig,facebook or any social media platform and tag me @exeimitate on IG and Twitter using the hashtag #30daysforpurity. If immorality can be openly celebrated then Purity should be publicly advocated……that’s our goal.

A lot of precious people have joined the train,you can check out some entries below 

And many more..  . you can follow on IG . follow @exeimitate using the #30daysforpurity.

Thanks for reading, don’t forget to share.


cacophonic comedy


You are a comedy, a really hilarious one, in fact your people were ranked as the most entertaining people in the whole world. Isn’t it a comedy that your law jails people for stealing mobile phones and robbers wearing resplendent robes walk freely in day light. Your law makers are law breakers, who turn the house of law to chair-breakers. 

You are one of the largest producer of oil yet you import oil. Your people’s mentality are so colonised that after 56 years of independence, they still depend on your colony for shoes, for bags, and every other thing, every other thing  you can make. You can’t imagine the sullen sadness that sank my heart with hurts when I heard your people import chicken, ordinary chicken, isn’t that ludicrous? You are a 57 years old toddler who still crawls to meet his mother intermittently for help at different intervals, are you not a comedy?

You had no shoes..so? who you epp sef? I am sure you bought a carton before you left, not just a carton. A carton of blue, black, brown, leather, fabric and many other sizes.

 Your mouth was sweeter than fresh honey, you were our saviour, our umbrella, the umbrella that should shield us from the livid lashes of poverty penury and every other problem that starts with P. But what did you give us? Chibok girls that never returned, transformation agenda that never transformed, Cassava bread that never trended and your kinsmen whose greed never ended.

  You even had the boldness to open your upper lip to meet your lower lips and churn out the words “Corruption isn’t a crime”, isn’t that a crime?

  The beginning of your end was attempting another beginning. They swept you out with their brooms and changed you with CHANGE.

 Change is inevitable, that is the only thing that is inevitable. So When CHANGE came knocking, we embraced change with our hands and heart, in our glee that sprinted in spree, we forgot to ask what kind of change it was? All we echoed were cacophonous choruses of “Give us change” and we had it.

  We had naira hit rock bottom, recession flog us in rapid succession, health breaks, health leaves and dozens of dollars stuck in damnation.

   Few years ago, you said our malady wasn’t money but how to spend it, few years after, you said we don’t have money. Which one should we believe, are you not a comedy?


 To enjoy comedy at its peak, we shall change the change and be the umpire of the umbrella. We take our state to the states. Isn’t that what you always do? Running to the states as if those people in the states have two heads and you have one? You are always collecting loans that infect your loins with insidious interest rates and grants that makes you an errand boy at 56., So next election we shall try out an amalgamation and vote BUHANATHAN-JONARI, I guess that will be fun, right?

P:S- this piece is dedicated to most recent graduates of dept of fine and applied arts,O.A.U..you guys are flabbergastingly amazing..and to Jemimah for inviting Us over.God bless you.
Graphics credit- Odeyemi Jemimah.

Ibadan,from the otherside 


You detest it. Yes!, you detested visiting your hometown, in fact, you hadn’t stepped your foot on the soil for five years, not because you don’t want to, but there was no need. What is the essence of playing around a lion’s cage if you are not ready to get torn by the callous carnivore and you don’t have a gun, unless you plan to see your ancestors earlier than you plan, it’s better to keep off.

  But when you gained admission and they requested for birth certificate, you knew it was time to go to the lion’s den, so you sought the elder’s advice and decided to run away from the den as much as possible, you found a shed, a shed of protection with a family who accepted you like their offspring. They were your dream family, an energetic daddy, real and hilarious mum and a set of boisterous kids who will call “Uncle Faith” nearly every second. So they became your escape route, when school is on break and home seems far, sometimes you even branch there before going home.

  School closed few weeks ago, but you don’t go home immediately, your mum is used to this already, she has screamed, yelled and done everything; but you won’t bulge. You miss your shed so you pack your loads on Saturday when the sun has set and decide to take a trip to your hometown.
2. There is time for everything, a time to mourn and a time to rejoice, says the wisest man that ever liveth. But more often than not, rejoicing is a choice, a deliberate decision to ignore the odious noise and saddening voice that takes diverse poise. 

  It was one of your siblings, the boisterous kid’s birthday and you chose to rejoice. you don’t really fancy shoprite, not like you don’t like it o, but you don’t have “shoprite rush” the way Nigerian youths do, but going for the second time in two months (God bless Unilever for the first one) surely had some exhilarating thrills. 

   You are learning, you are learning that adulthood is responsibility, that love is accountability and purity is beauty. Like a poet and online friend wrote “Doesn’t your heart miss a beat when your lips utter “I love you”, doesn’t your lung cease to breathe?” “I LOVE YOU”, is responsibility, you learnt that too. 

3. Visiting your hometown is always a golden opportunity to visit people, to visit friends and colleagues, so when a friend in the fellowship invited you over, your heart danced in delight. You didn’t mind that you will be spending three-quarter of what was in your wallet on t.fare because she resided at the other side of your home town. You didn’t mind the fact that you had spent a lot touring the town for a new pair of shoes earlier the day, you were just delighted she invited you, so you went because you cherish your friends and she was your friend, a very good one.

  On your way, you saw a man who was deaf and dumb help a woman lift a heavy load, and you saw a kid help an adult who was using walking stick cross the road so you learnt a lesson, WHAT YOU HAVE DOESN’T MATTER, ALL YOU NEED IS A CARING HEART TO HELP and everyone needs help sometime. So you open your wallet and pick two new Nigerian notes that had Obafemi Awolowo on it, and gave one to the dumb and deaf, and the second to the fragile Fulani kid that helped the adult, they both smiled heartily although their heartiness cannot be as much as the one dancing in your heart. You were sure you will trek back unless you were able to withdraw but you didn’t mind.

  On your way to your destination, your bike nearly summersaulted because your driver was glancing continuously at a lady who was on the bike directly ahead of you, but you didn’t scream fret or worry as you would have done, you just smiled as you watch him find balance. You smiled because God is working in you and through you and you are learning that worrying don’t solve a thing. You smiled because you had taken one or two glances at the lady too and she was graciously gorgeous. She had a fair complexion, well fit structure with complementing curves, a well rounded lips that glistened in luscious lipstick and a blazing sunshades that’ll smash any guy’s ego,but you had chided yourself and the bikeman hadn’t. You wonder about how lovely life will be if guys chided themselves and not react to the rushing emotions Eve’s daughters leave on us. 

  Your friend was glad to see you but she was worried, she was grateful you came because you are her academic secretary, so like a sales girl calculating an invoice, you calculated her CGPA, discussed academics and a little thing about what gives nearly every student headache; A worthy career path to follow. You wished to stay longer but time isn’t your friend, it never was,it never will be. So you both went to the ATM as planned, but as usual, Nigerian banks will never stop having network issues. Your friend asked if you have enough to get home, you smile and say yes, although your yes was by faith, your name is Faith after all.

4. Time was up, remember time was never your friend, but another friend, a bosom friend this time around insists you have to visit her before leaving your hometown, although it was gonna be additional stress and cost, you obliged, friendship afterall is about sacrifice and no relationship survives without alternative forgone.  So her place was another side of your hometown, in fact, by now, you must have been through five out of the seven local governments your hometown has.

   Your friend welcomes you to her abode with her charming smiles that sends chills down your spine. Whoever rejected this lady is a fool, you murmur, she is almost everything a virtuous lady should be; God fearing, pretty, tenacious and very caring. 

  You meet her younger sister and her ebullience amazes you. She is carefree, lively and acts older than her age. You talk gist, and do everything friends do. You don’t want to leave but you know loads of assignments await you in school. So you pack your load, forget to give a parting hug (you will later remember on your way,and shake your head.) and head for the bus stop which is the crux of the story.
5. People in your hometown hate where you live presently, they believe that you are too fast, and your residential occupants believes denizen from your hometown are too slow,  they are both right, its about perspective. 

   Being a Lagosian has its advantage, someone said if you are a lagosian and you are foolish, you cant be wise again. You have been robbed, almost kidnapped, almost nabbed wrongly so you have all the lessons you need.

  So when the conductor of the bus you boarded picked your phone,it didn’t take you up to a second to notice. The guy is a pro at pilfering,you must credit as he did his job pretty fast, slipping his hand into your back pocket, picking your beautifully designed Ankara pouched phone and getting back into the bus in less than two seconds could only be done by a pro. But Holy Spirit was faster, so you scream, MY PHONE,YOU PICKED MY PHONE, he is scared, he shivers, fidgets and quickly throw the phone. You don’t know what scared him, is he that he was caught or that you screamed in English instead of the Yoruba that is the major lingua franca of your hometown. He was still transfixed, so you pick up your phone, smile at him, collect your change and walk away. 

  You learnt again, that more than anything, you can’t survive without the Holy Spirit, that people are wretched and the heart of man is desperatedly wicked,so you thank God as you head towards the park. You will wait for 55mins before the bus is full, different alms beggars will come with myriad melody of mellifluous prayers, your bus will break down three times before you get to your destination and your room will be in a scattered state when you get back to school, but the last five days were scintillating and you won’t forget in a long while,that visiting your hometown was really worth-while.
P:S- Few months ago, I wrote a poem titled “the other side of lagos” after visiting the Mainland and highland for the first time. As promised, this is the “Other side of Ibadan” and its dedicated to the bakares, Fache Gbemisola Dawn and Orherhe Oghenetega Deborah, thanks for being  wonderful hosts. Thanks to you guys , I know another part of my home town.
Cover photo credit. @wallsofibadan

Picture taken by; Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau,an award winning poet who recently fell in love with photography.

Pages through the ages

​They come in different sizes, big, small, medium, pocket size and bucket size. Some have sequence, some are in series, the tempo of some increases like arithmetic progression and then crash like Nigeria’s naira in recession.

  Some are brutal, they call them thrillers. Thrillers are always filled with gothic games and torrid twists that make you clench your feeble fist. Do you remember chronicles of Narnia and left behind series? The way the words sent chills down your spines and made your blood tussle to and fro rapidly.

  Some are mystical, like Ted dekker’s “Three”, some are revelationally romantic like Rivers’ REDEEMING LOVE. Some weave war with love and piercing truth like Mark Lion Series  and some are just so hilarious like  “IJAPA TIROKO”. 

    Some ink spilled blood  when they were scribbling, A Walk for freedom and  There was a country  should fall into that category. Some beautified our childhood like Sugar girl, Chike and the river, Oliver Twist , Koku Baboni  while some will leave an indelible memory in our heart like  Purple Hibiscus.  Whatever they have done to us, they are called BOOKS and they come with different looks and outlooks.

The day I “fell in love”, I didn’t plan to, not when mammoth of recurrent responsibilities stared at my face rapidly with no one to cater for them except myself. But taking a bold step to visit a lady I admired from afar and attempting to know her better gave me more than I expected. 

  Unlike a lot of ladies in her age grade, she talked about the medicine of my heart, like she saw straight into my soul. From authors whose name we never knew how to pronounce like Ngugi Wan Thiogo,  The author of Weep Not Child,  and those who wrote stories that didn’t have an end like Sir H Rider Haggard.  

  We analyzed characters, their flaws and peaks, we critiqued and appreciated storylines, drafted our own conclusions to unfinished books, from King Solomon Mines to Alan quartermain and Important of Being ernest. 

   Our thoughts synchronized, our hands gesticulated,and by the time we were done, the unknown audience were startled as her room mates had found us a scintillating pair to derive pleasure of relaxation from. Their humorous glances made us realize that we had been lost in the world of books for one hundred and twenty five minutes and it was five minutes past the visiting time.

   Thank God it wasn’t the hostel where they sang the ludicrous song of “Mr MOZ”, maybe I would have become a character in Ogba Femi’s book.

That night, I felt my heart connect to someone for the first time in a long time, and the sapio sexual part of me came to life. Like the main role in 3 idiots, I heard wind whisper in mellifluous melody, it was the beginning of another adventurous journey. 


Few days ago, I stared at about five colleagues discuss books the way BBnaija fans discuss Efe and Tboss. My heart danced for joy, as I was lost in the exhilarating excitement people derived from discussing ideas, stories and other products of intellectual imagination. 

   I recently read a friend’s blog about books and at the end we were asked to share our experiences. This is mine;

 I followed Kukogho Samson (The CEO of Nigeria’s largest poetry website) advise that we should patronise african authors and I switched to African Literature, Nigeria. In the last four months, I have followed Farafina and Cassava Rseplubic  and I think those guys are awesome. I have read On the bank of the River by Ifeoluwa Adeniyi, Everything good will come by Sefi Atta, Imagine This by Sade Adeniran and IN DEPENDENCE,  I have forgotten the author’s name and I am presently reading “My name is Okoro” by Sam Omatseye. .

  You might try out some of this. So 

to all my foreigner addicts, Michael and his league. Try out Some Nigerian books o.

The truth is,perusing through the pages spilled by quills of different ages,makes us connect with sages from all walks of life. Selah
This post is dedicated to Oladele Inioluwa, Emmanuel Michael, Oluwafunmike Omojola and Adedipe Omolewa……Your zeal and zest for literature leaves me dazed.

P:S – Pick a book you will like me to review out of those four, kindly leave your answer in the comment box. 

Frenzy friendship


The day I saw you wasn’t the day I met you. The first time I saw you, you were on a blue blouse and black skirt with a moderate cover shoe. Like every typical new member, I sneaked into the auditorium and took my seat at the back, but your darting eyes caught me and you beckoned on me to move forward. At first I didn’t want to, but your radiating resplendent smiles, sent a charm that chilled my spine so I obeyed. I later discovered you were an usher, but you were the most modest usher as your colleagues had heavy make up, boggling earrings and expensive borrowed hair they called attachment flaunting across their exotic gowns with high heeled shoes, it didn’t seem to bother you, you just focused on your duty, and radiated your beauty. 

The day I met you, it was more like you met me. I was a lost new student trying to find my way in an environment where I felt out of place. You didn’t have to say anything ,all you did was smile, you smiled and waved. 

“Oh you again” I soliloquized as I waved back heartily. It was during the school’s fellowship and you muttered something I didn’t hear, but I nodded like a red head agama lizard who finally found a partner to copulate with after many days of heat.

 I waited for the fellowship to draw its curtain, I am not even sure I heard anything that was preached. Immediately we shared the grace I used my eyes to sweep the crowd, alas! You had vanished! I was dejected, I felt rejected and as I was about getting ejected by the cleaners who wanted to sweep the hall, I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a melodious voice whisper

“Hello, are you Emmanuel or Faith?, your name is beautiful but confusing”

I looked back and was transfixed; it was the beginning of an adventurous journey.

I liked you, the normal high school liking. I liked girls that were pretty and brilliant, you were both. I liked girls that didn’t do like the normal girls..girls that didn’t talk about boys, dolls, nicki minaj, beyonce and Mexican movies, you did none. You were always alone, or with a book, so I admired you from afar, because you were my senior colleague until one day, one blessed day when our principal suggested that we should feel free to relate with other senior colleagues and ask for help if the need be. He went further to mention  some brilliant and very approachable seniors and as I prayed,you were one of them. I screamed silently, it was an open door to a paradise with the wise.

The tintinnabulation that preceded the time keeper’s “its break time” met me in your classroom. You greeted me briefly and asked if I  was interested in what you were eating. I loved yams, but your classmates were staring at me, so I politely declined the offer.

 You flashed your neatly set teeth in a brief smile and spoke Yoruba

“Ma ti ju oo” (don’t be shy)

Before I could decide, you got an extra spoon and asked me to join you.

  That day, you taught me simultaneous equation, and as you taught, I felt our thoughts moved simultaneously as you took occasional glances.

It was the first and the last time, because I liked you and hated maths, I wished you were maths, so I would like you.


 The day you were graduating, I felt I was losing a friend, a senior who understood me and saw beyond my fake yet captivating smiles. A lady with a brutal hand but kind heart. Did you remember the abaara you gave me cause I didn’t do my assignment or how you pulled my ears when you overheard that I dropped further maths?

   But you stared into my eyes and said, don’t worry we would still be friends, and guess what? You kept your words. 

  Although it was hard at first as distance proved to be a barrier but the date, your first date, and ours too at Mr biggs changed the course. I didn’t tell you I withdrew all the money in my account just to please you, thankfully, as usual, you were very modest.

You gained admission, not into the school of your choice, neither was it the course of your choice, but you were in school and that’s all that mattered. I was happy for you,but sad with myself cause it was my second year at home already. I was about giving up on education because I was earning already, but you encouraged me daily. Our nocturnal chats were helpful and our conversation on 2go was a place to go and seek solace when hell set loose in frantic pace and flogs heartlessly in  rapid race. You never missed my birthday, I didn’t miss yours too, in fact for three years consecutively I was the first person to wish you happy birthday, and you had gotten used to it that you counted it a crime when I hadn’t wished you happy birthday at 05:42 pm.

48 hours ago, I was at your convocation, and I was filled with joy and gladness for many reasons. Seeing the reticent reclusive bola at a very expressive state was remarkable. Staring at your name boldly inscribed on the portion of first class honors was more adorable and the conversation about organic and inorganic cross breeding will be memorable.

 They said these days.friendship don’t last, ours have lasted eight years successfully, and it would last eighteen years and more if God willeth.

 Happy convocation, OLA3, I wish you the best God has to offer. Amen

Afterword ; There are a thousand reasons not to have a friend, thanks to the hurts, disappointments and betrayals, but there are chosen divine friends that sticks through thick and thin, when you find them, do your very possible best to keep them.

Have a wonderful weekend. I love you

For the guys, and ladies too..

​I thought he was different,He really was.

I could start with the sweet melodious words he whispered to me at motion ground, that made my heart move in rapid motion or the promises of heaven and earth he made at luxury kitchen where we ate. Not forgetting how he encouraged me to read, and feed well because I had poor eating habits and he was a doctor in making. But that afternoon, when he opened his upper lips to meet his lower lip and spit the nonsense.

“I’m glad you are alone in the room, I came with CD”

Oh, which movie, I asked with glee?

“Dearie,I meant Condom”……….. I knew all guys were the same.
Hey mr, are you listening? Either you are a Christian, Muslim or ifa worshipper I don’t seem to care right now, just open your two ears.

 Not every lady is some hungry bitch, I mean #keepthechangebae should have taught you that, I just felt like reminding you. Not every lady who visits you and shares her hurts with you wants you to have sex with her,it means she trusts you enough to be herself, HER REAL SELF, in your presence. So you should take it as a privilege speak to “john thomas” to stay still and give her the care she needs.

  Not all girls are money-mongers, not all of them are bitches that “straff”, not all of them double date, some don’t even have a boyfriend, so can you just stop thinking the worst about them?

  That she shows off a little cleavage, in fact HER WHOLE CLEAVAGE, doesn’t necessarily means she is a whore, it most likely means she has low self-esteem and is battling with self-worth and the least way to help her is to defile her, you just successfully compounded her problem.

 So both of you were under duress at some “go gaga” party and you decided to think the worst after that, really? Don’t ask her out if you won’t date her, I didn’t say marry her, but if your reason for asking her out is her body and not her being..then DON’T BOTHER!, If you do, your sister will suffer the same fate, if you dont have a sister, your daughter would….(someone just whispered, Emmanuel Faith is angry o),

  Lastly, that she is bold enough to tell you she likes you doesn’t make her cheap, you should admire her bravery and honour her or politely reject her.

  Ok so, I think I am done for now……I may still come back o..
Ladies, by now, you should know that I love you. I love you so much,I love you so much that my friends call me a feminist, I have written more poems for you people than for my male counterparts, but you do fall my hand.

 Like I said in one of my poems, you are our crowns, not our punching bag or ball tossed to and fro like the ball the Williams sisters played at Wimbledon. So why do you paint yourself so cheap? Why do you bribe guys with your body, news getting to me, reports that one of you even offered your body for votes, c’mon! that’s demeaning..I heard that in the end, you didn’t win, isn’t that shameful?

  Sisters, brothers are not wood so stop visiting us with that your pretty floral gown that displays your curves and figure eight. Don’t use luscious glowing lipstick like you are inviting us for what is meant for the wedding day after pastor’s pronouncement. I am not saying don’t look good, I am saying,BE MODERATE!

   Don’t open your cleavage or wear very short skirts that wont make you bend down comfortably, don’t be hot, and let your life burn, don’t dress to kill cause your destiny may die first.  

Stop  watching Mexican movies, they have done more harm than good, those who watched, second chance, shades of sin, Spartacus and co can testify.

  Don’t go to his room and watch indian movies with him alone, remember blood flows through your body and his too.What else o?

   Not all guys are heart stabbers, not all of us are unserious and irresponsible, that you have been unlucky with few shouldn’t make you commit fallacy of generalisation, there are guys that will appreciate you for who you are and what you have, just just need to prayerfully wait.

  FOR GUYS AND GIRLS; Like I said in my opening paragraph, right now I don’t care about your religion, dating is beyond smooching and caressing, I know different religions have their different principles, but my principle is very simple, LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF. Guys, don’t do to a lady what you don’t want to be done to your daughter, ladies don’t do to a guy, what you won’t want your friend to do to your elder brother and You are worth more than gold, STOP PLAYING CHEAP.

  Lastly, unlike what majority of the society believes, no matter the religion… Sex is Sacred, it’s not a foreplay , it’s a connection of blood, of body soul and spirit.. so beware!!!In its midst, Mine Virginity Day is loading, and it’s gonna be lit, we are celebrating purity…details will come soon..

 Till the next time I vex like this… Guys, guard the ladies, ladies, respect the guys. Gracias.

P:S- This isn’t a real blog o, it was just an outpour of uncurbed emotions after hearing some nauseating conclusions about both gender. I should blog before the end of this week, thanks for reading..don’t forget to share