A Real Problem Kid.

On October 24th, 2023, I did what most Nigerians would call "Giving My Life To Christ," which I later learned from one social preacher to be "Receiving Christ Into My Life" at Assemblies of God Church, Saminaka, Kaduna State. And instead of the plain and proper type of follow-up of nurturing new converts into spiritual maturity, our follow-up instructor was more interested in how we would begin working in God's sanctuary already. Instead of tutoring us on how to be free from the clinges of sin, man used almost the duration of the three-month follow-up classes to talk about the fig tree and how useless it was because it wasn't bearing fruit. And then, each time, he would drive it back to how unnecessary believers who are into content consumption and not content creation are to God the Creator.   Instead of taking us through the steps of how to be hot and burn for Christ, Evangelist Josh, as they call him, was doing the quite opposite: telling us who a lukewar

  Tomorrow, January 25, 2024, will mark a year since I was served my biggest humiliating experience. I had promised to take it to the grave, but after several panic attacks, I decided to share it here on this faceless forum, where at least my dignity and pride won't be tainted. Anything for my self-healing and self-forgiveness. Tomorrow, brethren would make it 365 days since a 23-year-old Di-Okpara Mmadu (firstborn son) was disgracefully bounced out of a wedding party by some Obalende-Floyd-Mayweather in the presence of over 689 people, excluding women and children. Tomorrow, people of God will mark one oscillation of the sun since I stopped worshiping at Winners Chapel Morroco Road branch, where the praise session always ends with this song, "Everything Nah Double Double." I decided to work the talk instead; double the hustle instead". Even though evidence of the "Doubled Hustle" might not really be glaring now, at least the eye-doubling hunger that mad

  On my list of victories and successes I had last year (2023), aside from being able to clinch a remote job with an Iranian company on LinkedIn, where I'm being paid 3 million Iranian rials monthly (67k in Nigerian Nairà), another big one was leaving the "Coast of Darkness" I lived in for almost two years.   A compound that has never experienced the blink of NEPA from October 2021, when I parked in there, until October 2023, when I parked out. Not just our compound, but actually the whole geographical region. The only region where I saw people freely leaning and hanging hands on naked electric wires while gisting and discussing. The only place on earth probably where kids were roughly playing around pole wires and NEPA transformers as if they were in an amusement park.   I feel tempted to mention the name of this place, but for the sake of my age-long idealogy that it is immature to wash the dirty linen of an ex after a breakup, I would keep the name of this place an

  Since I came packed into my new apartment in Ebutte-meta, I have had these "evangelists from hell," posing as neighbors, who the devil, in collaboration with my ever-plentiful in wickedness village people, commissioned with 70-cm shovels to uproot the fibers of my destiny.   I can't really give a detailed account of how myself and these guys rose to the point of being "paddies," but one thing I can still very much recall is the event that joined me in unholy matrimony with these guys. One of them had knocked at my door one hot Sunday afternoon to ask that I borrow him my water fetcher (Guga, as Hausas call it), and innocently, without hesitation, I did. As far as my 1860-degree voltage brain can recall, I guess this is the only sin I committed: lending that guy my property and, most importantly, forgetting that "Nah from clap dem take dey enter dance."   And it was the lending of this fetcher that led to "Boss how far" and "Chairma

  Coming out of another interview yesterday, the 6th of the week, and probably the 42nd one in less than one month of being in Lagos, was the downcast, frustrated, tired, and hungry me, as usual, feeling like a failure. Again, after laying all my mighty grammar and vocabulary at the feet of an interviewer, I heard the usual slogan, "We will get back to you," which should be my second most hated statement, closely behind the first, "Nigeria shall be great.".   Just like every Nigerian, except the deluded ones, knows that the chances of Nigeria getting anything close to gre... are 0.00876%, so I always handed over everything to the hands of the "God of Chosen" whenever I left any of those interview grounds. Yesterday, brethren, was one of those days, probably the worst day. The interview session today was blockbusting, and the questions I was asked were hell-fire standard. Of course, I provided answers to those questions to the very best of my knowledge,

  Some weeks ago, or would I say about a month ago, I met this very old friend, sorry, God forbid, someone I used to know back years ago after the closing of a church service at Salvation Ministries Ikotun. Jesse, the notoriously deep-rooted criminal back in 2008–2013, during those days in Birnin Gwari, Kaduna State, shaking hands with brethren after a church service. The very popular "Gaze and Shoot," as he was nicknamed back then, known for his unique style of stealing, which I have since then only seen exemplified by the way Erling Haaland steals away goals from Premier League defenders. It was said that once this guy, Jesse, gazes at any of your valuables back then, forget it; it's history. Once his eye catches sight of any of your fascinating treasures, the next place that treasure would be located would be on his left hand, because not only does he steal, he flaunts as well. And I guess that killed his stealing career. Because, of course, if not for how he flaunts