Tag Archives: true-life story

Fufu war

The closing prayer was said. The Amen was followed by students ducking under the table. Wrapped mounds of fufu began to fly in all directions. The culprits would raise their heads, fire a mound of fufu like an arrow and duck immediately. Anyone standing or not crouched under the table received a striking stab of fufu. The fufus were usually cold and hard and the strikes from one was indeed painful. Other students who refused to be part of the chaos ran out of the dining hall crouching.

The dining hall was built like a huge warehouse with awning windows and louvers situated at about 20 feet high. In the ensuing chaos, a junior student who had just joined the school some months before ran out of the dining hall with his plate in his hands. A mound of fufu struck the louvers above him and glass pieces came crashing down. The broken louver struck the boy on his calf and blood gushed out like an open tap.

The screams and cries of the hurt boy and other students who were escaping the dining chaos broke the fufu war immediately. Students rushed to carry the boy back into the dining while some went into first-aid mode immediately. A white T-shirt was torn and the boy’s leg was bound to stop the bleeding before he was rushed to the hospital by the principal.

 

The boy’s mother was contacted. She hurriedly went to see her injured son at the hospital and came to the school in anger. As she saw one of the housemaster’s, she rushed towards him and grabbed him by his shirt’s collar.

“Do you know how many months I carried this boy in my womb? Ë fé p’ömö fún mi?” (You want to kill my child). She screamed at the housemaster who was struggling to free himself from the woman’s hold.

“I carried him for thirty months. Do you know what I went through?” She continued in her rant.

The woman was held back by other housemasters who intervened and calmed her down. Two things however happened after; the fufu war came to an end and the junior student received a nickname “Omópénú”.

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Photo Credit: https://www.cdkitchen.com

Lagos madness

It was a Friday. A family event was taking place that evening. I asked for permission to close an hour earlier to be able to participate in the event. 5:00pm, I drove out of my office on Awolowo road, Ikoyi. I should be home in two hours, I said to myself.

The traffic on third mainland bridge snaked all the way from the beginning to the tail end and I began to wonder if I would still make the journey in two hours. 7:00pm, I arrived at Bolade in Oshodi. I did a mental calculation. In an hour, I should get to Iyana-Ipaja.

8:00pm, I was still at Bolade. 9:00pm came and met me right on the same spot at Bolade, Oshodi. It had rained earlier that day and for those who understand Lagos; rain and Lagos roads are like sworn enemies. I was extremely tired and my feet were hurting. Driving a manual car in traffic a’int attractive. Movement was at snail speed and I kept switching off and switching on the engine to ease the stress on my feet.

In my tired state and my feet on the brake pedal, I lost traction and bumped into the car ahead of me. Oh Lord, not now; I thought. A man stepped out of the car. He looked at me and bent to look at his bumper. I tried to signal an apology to him but the man just turned and went back to sit in his car. I guess he was too tired to get into an argument. I immediately switched off the engine to avoid a recurrence.

“Hello ma’am, you look extremely tired. Can I join you and keep you company?” A guy who had been standing at the bus-stop with other passengers as they awaited a bus asked. I looked at him; a total stranger but at that point I needed company to stay awake.

I unlocked the passenger door and he eased into the car. He introduced himself and started talking about the traffic situation and various issues. I listened and his conversation kept me awake.

At about 10:30pm, some army men emerged from God knows where and decided to help our situation. They began to pass traffic and as we moved forward, we realized that some cars going towards Oshodi had decided to face oncoming traffic; thereby causing the total lock down.

As usual in Lagos traffic, immediately the army men passed their vehicle out of the traffic, they zoomed off leaving the rest of us to our fate. Moving ahead became a survival of the fittest game. Thankfully, I scaled through without a scratch. I got to the GRA Ikeja junction and we saw traffic still ahead of us. At this time of the night, I thought as I shook my head. I wondered if I should go ahead or make a detour. My new found friend asked what my intention was. After 3 hours on one spot, I was not ready for another long wait.

I turned into GRA Ikeja and manuveured my way through to Oba Akran through Mobolaji Bank Anthony way. It was a smooth drive and I was glad I took that decision. Driving out of Oba Akran, I decided to pass the inner Dopemu road parallel to the Lagos-Abeokuta express way. As we went on, we could see the tail lights of cars in slow movement on the express way. I smiled as I congratulated myself on the smart move. I dropped off my new found friend at his bus-stop which was on my way home and he was full of thanks. I was more thankful because his conversation actually helped me stay awake on the steering.

I arrived home at a quarter to midnight. The celebrator for whom I had closed from the office one hour earlier was already sleeping peacefully in bed.

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Photo Credit: http://www.ABC7.com

Blood on his hands

Ikenna ran after his elder brother and pulled the trigger. “Pa pa pa.” He shouted as he pumped the bullets into him.

Blood gushed out as the bullets hit Chidi in the head. Chidi slumped and the sight of blood shocked Ikenna.
He looked at the pistol in his hand and immediately flung it away. Even though he had seen blood gush out in the movies, he hadn’t expected to see the same happen right before him.

They had played this same game many times and blood had never gushed out of his elder brother. The gun they had played with was exactly the same as the one he held a moment ago but it had never caused a flow of blood.

Confused at what was going on, he began to cry. “Mummy, mummy.” He screamed.

******

Adaeze was jolted out of her sleep. She had taken a brief afternoon nap and had just had a bad dream. For some reasons, she felt something was amiss. She had no idea what it was but she knew she needed to get up and attend to her sons. She was heavily pregnant for her third child and the scan had shown that she was carrying a girl. She was happy as she had decided that after this, she was done with child bearing.

The birth of her sons; Ikenna and Chidi who were four and six respectively had been traumatizing for her. She had both of them through a caesarean operation and the doctor had advised her after the birth of Ikenna to give child bearing a wide berth. When she confided in the doctor that she wanted to have one more child and try for a girl, the doctor had wondered why. But she had been adamant and told the doctor; just one last time.

Her son’s scream echoed round the house and she immediately jumped up and ran up the stairs to see what was going on. As she entered into the room, the sight before her made her knees buckle and she went down.

“Mummy.” Ikenna ran to meet his mother and fell into her arms.

Adaeze looked at her younger son and burst into tears. She crawled to where Chidi lay in a pool of blood and pulled him close. She gave a cry of anguish as she hugged her son who lay still in her arms.

How many times had she warned Nnanna about keeping a loaded gun in his room? How many times had she pleaded with him to get rid of the gun? How many times had she told him to get a safe and lock up the deadly weapon if he had to keep it in his room? How many times? How many times?

As she cried out and held her first son’s still body, the only thing on her mind was hurt, regret and sorrow.

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Photo Credit: http://www.veteranstoday.com

 

Deliver us from evil

It was about 6.30p.m. The weather was calm and the sun was just beginning its descent. I longed to get home as soon as I could. It had been a long day at work and I was tired. I turned the curve at the roundabout to climb up the bridge. The bridge was a dual carriage one which allowed motorists to drive facing the same direction on both sides of the bridge from 4.30p.m.

As I began my ascent, I noticed a man riding an okada and coming my way at full speed. I was wondering if he was new in the environment and did not realize that at this time of the day, I had right of way. Or maybe he missed the signage stating the timing at the foot of the bridge.

The okada man kept coming, not breaking his speed and I had to step on my brakes. The peak of the bridge could only take one car and I doubted the space left between my car and the railings of the bridge would take the bike speeding my way. If he was on a suicide mission, I did not want to help him achieve it.

Okada man

My mind told me he would divert just as he was about to get to me. Everything happened like a movie and I saw the okada hit my car right in front; the rider and his motorcycle falling to the ground in a split second. My jaw dropped as I wondered what had just happened.

The man quickly recovered. He stood up and came to my side trying to open my door. I have learnt to lock all doors and roll up all windows almost to the top (even in a car without an AC) especially in traffic. He struggled with the door and started banging on it as he asked me to open up.

As I sat in the car pondering what to do, some men who were driving behind me and also on the other side of the bridge parked their cars and came out. They ran towards my car as they started pushing the rider away from me. “Madam, don’t step out of that car.” One of the men shouted.

One of the men lifted up the okada from the ground and moved it to the side of the bridge. They told the rider that if he wasn’t careful, they would beat him up as they were all witnesses to all that happened. He was asked to get on his okada and drive off as the men also asked me to go.

Till date, I wonder what actually happened. Was he sleeping? Was his mind faraway? Only the rider can answer that question.

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Photo Credit: http://www.canstock.com

The Victim

Hey,

I’m sorry I could not start the new series on Monday. We had some technical glitches.

But not to worry; here’s bringing you a true story for this week.

Do enjoy!

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She was young and beautiful. She was the darling of everyone around. When she joined the boarding school with her elder sister, she was a boisterous soul.

But everything changed all of a sudden. She became a recluse. Depression set in and she became a shadow of herself.  Night time became a nightmare for her. She mentioned that some forces were oppressing her in the dead of the night but no one believed her. It wasn’t that they did not want to believe her. They were also scared and would rather she did not talk about it.

One night she was praying aloud. Most of the students in the dormitory could hear her because it was not yet lights out. She finished her prayer and expected others to join her in saying “Amen.” But most students were quiet. Her prayers were strange. She prayed not to experience another oppression that night. When she mentioned that if they did not say an “Amen”, they may be subjected to oppression, the whole dormitory immediately chorused an “Amen.”

The lights went out at 10.00pm and the whole hostel went to bed. A student in the same room as the oppressed girl stood up groggily in the dead of the night to use the restroom. She had no idea what time it was. She just wanted to use the restroom and go back to sleep. She sauntered back to her bed and was about dozing off when she heard the door to the dormitory open with force; almost like a wind had blown it open. She felt the hairs on her neck rise. She became scared and lay still in bed unable to look at the direction of the opened door.

Then it happened. She saw the oppressor hopping in on one leg with different little children also hopping behind her. She was an old woman. The student froze and could feel her heart in her mouth. She began to chant prayers in her mind; her lips unmoving so as not to attract attention to herself. The woman dispersed the children to different corners of the room with her hand.

The oppressed girl had not been lying. She was truly a victim of dark forces. The oppressed girl started crying but the student who had witnessed everything was too scared to say a word. The oppression was soon over but this time, there had been a witness.

The student related the experience to the oppressed girl’s elder sister the next morning and that ended their stay in the school.

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Photo Credit: http://www.shutterstock.com