AFRICAN STORIES

*PLIGHTS OF THE ROHINGYA MUSLIMs Part 1*

Written by:
*Habeebullahi Faruq Olamilekan* *_(Agbeloba)_*

Co-written and edited by:
*Taiye Temitope Abdulrasheed* *_(#Rasbom)_*

     With a population of over 1 million people,  there exist a stateless minority group of people at the southern part of Myanmar or Burma as you choose to call it. These sets of people are Muslim minority in the Buddhist dominated kingdom of Burmis,  in the southern province of Rakhine.
     Stay tune as we take you through the plights of the most terrorise group of minorities in the world.

*Who are the Rohingya?*
     The Rohingya are often described as "the world's most persecuted minority".
They are an ethnic Muslim group who have lived for centuries in the majority Buddhist
Myanmar. Currently, there are about 1.1 million Rohingya Muslims who live in the Southeast Asian country.
The Rohingya speak Rohingya or Ruaingga, a dialect that is distinct to others spoken in Rakhine State and throughout Myanmar. They are not considered one of the country's 135 official ethnic groups and have been denied citizenship in Myanmar since 1982, which has effectively rendered them stateless.
 Nearly all of the Rohingya in Myanmar live in the western coastal state of Rakhine and are not allowed to leave without government permission. It is one of the poorest states in the country with ghetto-like camps and a lack of basic services and opportunities.
Due to ongoing violence and persecution, hundreds of thousands of Rohingya have fled to neighbouring countries either by land or boat over the course of many decades.

*Where are the Rohingya from?*
     Muslims have lived in the area now known as Myanmar since as early as the 12th century, according to many historians and Rohingya groups.
The Arakan Rohingya National Organisation has said, "Rohingyas have been living in Arakan from time immemorial," referring to the area now known as Rakhine.
During the more than 100 years of British rule (1824-1948), there was a significant amount of migration of labourers to what is now known as Myanmar from today's India and Bangladesh . Because the British administered Myanmar as a province of
India, such migration was considered internal, according to Human Rights Watch (HRW).
The migration of labourers was viewed negatively by the majority of the native population.
After independence, the government viewed the migration that took place during British rule as "illegal, and it is on this basis that they refuse citizenship to the majority of Rohingya," HRW said in a 2000 report. This has led many Buddhists to consider the Rohingya as Bengali, rejecting the term Rohingya as a recent invention, created for political reasons.

*How and why are they being persecuted? And why aren't they recognised?*
    Shortly after Myanmar's independence from the British in 1948, the Union Citizenship Act was passed, defining which ethnicities could gain citizenship. According to a 2015 report by the International Human Rights Clinic at Yale Law School, the Rohingya were not included. The act, however, did allow those whose families had lived in Myanmar for at least two generations to apply for identity cards.
Rohingya were initially given such identification or even citizenship under the generational provision. During this time, several Rohingya also served in parliament.
 After the 1962 military coup in Myanmar, things changed dramatically for the Rohingya. All citizens were required to obtain national registration cards. The Rohingya, however, were only given foreign identity cards, which limited the jobs and educational opportunities they could pursue and obtain.
In 1982, a new citizenship law was passed, which effectively rendered the Rohingya stateless. Under the law, Rohingya were again not recognised as one of the country's 135 ethnic groups. The law established three levels of citizenship. In order to obtain the most basic level (naturalised citizenship), there must be proof that the person's family lived in Myanmar prior to 1948, as well as fluency in one of the national languages. Many Rohingya lack such paperwork because it was either unavailable or denied to them.
As a result of the law, their rights to study, work, travel, marry, practice their religion and access health services have been and continue to be restricted. The Rohingya cannot vote and even if they jump through the citizenship test hoops, they have to identify as "naturalised" as opposed to Rohingya, and limits are placed on them entering certain professions like medicine, law or running for office.
Since the 1970s, a number of crackdowns on the Rohingya in Rakhine State have forced hundreds of thousands to flee to neighbouring Bangladesh, as well as
Malaysia, Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries. During such crackdowns, refugees have often reported rape, torture, arson and murder by Myanmar security forces.
After the killings of nine border police in October 2016, troops started pouring into villages in Rakhine State. The government blamed what it called fighters from an armed Rohingya group. The killings led to a security crackdown on villages where Rohingya lived. During the crackdown, government troops were accused of an array of human rights abuses, including extrajudicial killing, rape and arson - allegations the government denied.
In November 2016, a UN official accused the government of carrying out "ethnic cleansing" of Rohingya Muslims. It was not the first time such an accusation has been made.
In April 2013, for example, HRW said Myanmar was conducting a campaign of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya. The government has consistently denied such accusations.
Most recently, Myanmar's military has imposed a crackdown on the country's Rohingya population after police posts and an army base were attacked in late August.
Residents and activists have described scenes of troops firing indiscriminately at unarmed Rohingya men, women and children. The government, however, has said nearly 100 people were killed after armed men from the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) launched a raid on police outposts in the region.
Since the violence erupted, rights groups have documented fires burning in at least 10 areas of Myanmar's Rakhine State. More than 50,000 people have fled the violence, with thousands trapped in a no-man's land between the two countries...To be continue...

*REFERENCES*
United Nations (UN)
International Human Right Clinic
Human Right Watch
Al-Jazeera
CNN
BBC

LIVING IN GUILT

Story by Akin Omo Akin

I tried resisting but she persisted. She was all over me as she urged, patiently waiting for me to give in. I finally lost control but when she stared at me,keeping her gaze on my retina. Looking through her blue eyes my heart was sectile.

"Please, Princely, please, I want this." She said with a subtle touch.

"okay how much for the blue contact lenses?" I asked the anxious shop keeper.

"Six thousand five." He replied
I fumed, as I reached my pocket for my credit card, resenting the shopkeepers sated smile.

Sekinat was bode's girlfriend, and it was her birthday In two days. We had been shopping the entire afternoon. Just like I promised her. a favor from bode , who has travelled abroad for few months program. I help her into the taxi, laughing as she clutched two nylon bags in her hands. She was beautiful, adorable, daring, and lively. For a while, we were both silent and the atmosphere was becoming too dull for her to bare. I had to bring something up, I told her about myself, my family, the crazy girlfriend I had. It was all lively and she was happy and talky, i decided to tell her about how I felt for her. The silent that evade the air was so brawny, I regretted telling her about what I felt for her,she must hate me now, "I muttered."

We'd been on the road for almost an hour, as we approached the last stop that leads to her house, I sighed with lot of air running through my nerves.

"Why did you allow him that day, why?"she spoke.

" huh?" I stuttered.

"At the Hangout. You came to me first, but you said nothing, bode asked me out in your present."

"I...I loved you the first time I saw your face. I had wish that everything he said and did to me that night was done by you." I was lost.

The car pulled over in front of her apartment. She got down first, dragging her nylon with the door, I stood on her side holding the door for her and frowning at the silence between us.

"It's getting late I should probably go home and prepare for tomorrow." I said as she dropped the bags.

She stood up facing me, and whispered "I can't thank you enough for today"

Even though I couldn't explain the kiss and everything that came afterward, we had the night to our best, a "a fifty shade " kind of night. Her body was a lover's breath away from mine. Our tongues were wet with guilt. I opened my eyes and wished I never did, oh we never did. The image of the night still hunts the inner me as I watched bode leaning on his kitchen cabinet to fetch me some drinks.

Story By AKINOMOAKIN

Faraway from the earth, there we live ,just like every other human; we are mortals, we eat, we sleep, we work, we reproduce, but there's this particular thing that secern and differentiate us from the common man, which is the Time. On the phase of our hand is a long inscription of reading time. Practically, our day to day living depends on that time, unlike the humans that are ignorance of their death day, our time of death is glaring and plainly displayed on our hands, once the time runs out, we die; in respective of where we are or what we are doing at the moment our time runs off. In our world, we have no currency, we purchase cars, food, house, taxes , and everything by depositing our running time. In our world transferring of time is possible: possible for someone who have lot of time to give out to those who have few, and also possible for someone who have few to take everything from someone who have lots. In our world our time does not read immediately we are born , until we are thirty years old. after that we grow no more, and we have no change in our look or appearance.


Just like the normal world, the way we have poor and rich people, we also have billionaire amongst us, who virtually can live for a whole life time and also poor people who have nothing less than few hours more to live; because they have wasted most of their time on day to day expenses.


My ephemeral story of life in time was brutal, my time starts to read when I turned 25, my Family, we are poor but still averagely better than lot of those that roam around the street. My Dad, he was a time thief, he steals time from those who have millions and gives to those who have little on the street. My mother was a school teacher who doesn't get paid till after a month. Every morning my father will call on all of us, me, my mum and my little sister, and he'll give us some of his time probably a day or two so we can survive till he gets back. One day my dad went to rob as usual, because it's been long he gives time to people in the street. and lots are dying, dad got shot and he died. He died with our family asset (the time) in his hand. Since then we became very poor, I had to start working but still the work fetch little or no time for us to survive for long. sooner my mum was having one day left to die, and so I started giving her 24hours from my time everyday. My sister, she's not yet 25, her time is yet to start reading, thereby making it impossible for her to share. we continue living like that, give a day to my mum from my time and she pays me back after receiving her salary, but this month, my sister died ,her time started reading while she was asleep in her boyfriend place. he was reported to have stolen all of her time and elope from our time zone.


Now i have only my mum as family. On my time I have just 5yrs and two months to live. Because I have already giving most of my time to my mum. Mum was about leaving for work one morning, as usual, I have to give her some of my time. Normally I'm supposed to give her a day, but she requested for half, she told me she won't be staying out long, I did as instructed and she kissed my cheek and left. That evening, after I returned from work, I didn't meet at home, which is very unusual, I couldn't call her because I'll have to deposit an hour for a call and she have to deposit an hour to pick my calls too, mum doesn't have that much. I set out for the park immediately, when I got there, the last bus was just arriving, I went inside the bus to check for her, but she's not inside. My mum attempted boarding that bus, but that particular day, her destination was increased to 2 hours and she have 1:32minute left on her time. She had to start running. I badge out of the bus and started running towards her location, hopefully to catch her up on the run, of course I did, mum approaching from far, I increased my speed pace and sooner I was about reaching her, while she approached me, her face were filled with smile and just when I stretch out my hand to reach out for hers, she fell and died, she ran out of time.


That is how i lost my family and everything i have. The way this is happening In my family, the same way it's happening in other families who live in time. We all live to die by the sunset of the day. Anytime I hear the people of the earth saying how nice would it have been, if everyone knows the day they'll die, I'll smile and thank the almighty on their behalf, for they are lucky,and do not dwell in time like us.


This story was inspired by Justin Timberlake (the actor of IN TIME).

I moved my gun slowly. My aim came into full view. I was lying in the grass while Commander was sitting behind a tree close to me and yelling out orders. The tree branches spread out; it shielded us from the sun.

“Do you have a full view of them now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take them out.”

“Sir?”

“I said take them out!”

“But the little girl and her mother stand no threat to us, sir.”

“Take. Them. Out. Magabush!”





No! No! No! I was still shouting when I felt a cold tender hand touch my cheek, I woke up with a start.

“What’s the matter Sweety?”

It was my wife Angela. I was lying on a sofa in our lounge. The air conditioners were on but I could feel sweat under my arms.

“You were shouting in your sleep.”

“Was I sleeping? It was only a nap. It’s… it’s nothing. What time is it?’’

“2 pm.” She said, pointing at the big wall clock.

“What’s the matter with you?” Her hand was on my bare chest. I was sure she could feel my heart beat.

“I am fine.”

“No. You’re not.”

“I am.” I left her, went into the bathroom, then I pushed the door behind me slightly hard.

In becoming a soldier, we were thought to be unmerciful; we could do anything to protect our subject. Perhaps that was the very reason Commander asked me to shoot the little girl and her mother while he looked away and let me bear the pain alone. This was the first rule. I had imagined that the little girl I shot was my daughter Annie. I remember the look on the child’s face, how she was smiling and was about to hug her mother as if she knew it was her last moment. I had shot her first before her mother. I wanted to save her the pain of seeing her mother die. Was this mercy? I thought of the fear and pain in the woman’s heart that second as she saw her own daughter’s head shredded to nothing, it would be much. Enormous. I thought, too, of the shock that came to her when she herself got hit. What did she think at that last moment? Did she forgive the “devil” that shot her and her daughter? I know she wouldn’t. She wasn’t Jesus Christ, no one would.

I imagined again that Angie was the woman, standing helplessly, watching Annie before she herself got hit. Holy shit! No. But how could I have shot them, just how?

And now, how can I stand before Angie telling this story? Could I stare into her eyes and say I was right? That in the army, in my first days, the lieutenant, the one with a lopsided face who always spat like he had eaten a snail, had said something. Never disobey the senior officer at any operation and never question him too. Do exactly as he commands… this is rule number two. It was for this very reason that I had pulled the trigger that moment.

I would open this door, then go and meet Angie. She would understand me. She would kiss me and say I was right. But deep down, something told me I was not right. Magabush, I call myself, you were wrong!

Story by Akin Omo Akin

My body is fine and tender, my skin as soft as that of a newly born baby, and lips so sexy that a thousand men  would fall when words escape them.I am that one perfect creation of the sixth day. A spotless and radiant body is worth beholding by all eyes that see. My body is a perfect definition of a mans fantasy, and thats the reason I exhibit my model-like figure. A hundred pictures from an angle, just to have a perfect shot. My love for photos grew to become a bad habit. I love outdoor poses, but the best are taken indoors. My lingerie is adorable, and skin tight enclasp my curves.


More poses attracts more social media pages likes, more comments and attentions all I have ever wanted. I wanted more likes than usual, so i decided to go weirder and bizarre. Pant half worn, G-strings preferably. My boobs are barely clothed, but I love them screaming out loud. Indeed it worked, but I have totally lost my innocence and it sometimes freaks me out. The advances i receive daily are numerous, but I have some that keeps my head up and my eyes stocked to the screen of my phone.

Particularly that of his, Mr Michael, he is my most admired follower on Instagram. I read most of his direct messages and I got overwhelmed by his world of fantasy with his lascivious obscene sayings. A photographer is what he called himself, he has a lot of beautiful and gleaming pictures of ladies that got me thrilled in his profile, professional looking photoshoot on modeling. He invited me over to his place and without hesitation I harkened into every lead that took me to his world.

On getting to his apartment, my expectations were daunted. I was hoping to see picture, portraits or any form of artistry but I didn't. I had the best shot of my life and I thought that was all, unknowingly it was the beginning of my mystery. It all dawned on me after our first sex of seven rounds, although I wasn't surprised, before I left home, I had prepared for the sex but not other things he did to me afterwards. He was dominant and had me submit to his sexual urge, more like him making me a character in his sexual narrative. He inject me with unknown fluids day and night, with my hands tied. I became his sex machine, courting more than 11times daily. At a certain stage he wasn't satisfied with the sex anymore he did a lot of nasty and unspeakable things with me. Days over days, weeks of solicitation, I was lost in time like a spill ashes. I was stripped of humanity "ahh iya je mi" and fordeem to beg for my freedom. My beg and plea fell deaf ears for  they, were all meaningless to him.

At exactly one month, I was injected with this particular fluid, everything went blank I had no experience of what fluid I had been injected with. I woke  up in the middle of no where with absolutely nothing to remember, I saw an envelope before me, and what I found in them were pictures of my nakedness and nasty things I have done with Michael, with an inscription boldly written on one of the photos that says thus

"You're the 44th girl that has gone through this and you're among the 24th lucky survival of this escapades good luck"

I'm only alive today because I didn't lose my breath to this sanity. Life became darkening, depressive, miserable and unworthy to live afterward for I am the architect of my calamity. Don't be like me, learn from my story.

THE NIGHT
STORY by Heritage

I wished I never met her that night. That was the night I lost my reservation to the naughty me. Things happened really fast that I was not only a victim, but a party.

It all began when I went with friends to a get-together party organised by an association in which they belong. I don't fancy parties so I never wanted to attend but they insisted that I follow them. We got to the venue at exactly 7:49pm. I was obviously a newbie to such events so my friends tried as much as possible to make me comfortable. Can I? I predicted that the night will be a mess and a waste of time, I turned out to be a clairvoyant.

I was in my nervous seat when a young lady walked up to us with a tray of Drinks. I collected mine - I no go carry last. But something was catchy. I thought I was the only one that saw it. Obviously, I wasn't.

Who saw that?

"Me!!!", all of my friends chorused while their gaze never moved from its fixture. We saw a gifted damsel. She's endowed.

I stood up and proceeded to the corner behind the room where my friends were seated. I saw the glancing beauty ahead and I adjusted my ironed but sagged top.

'Hi, I am Yemi. Can I get to know the one that has the power to restrain me from eating here tonight if she so wishes?' I said with a mischievous voice but she never noticed.

She smiled and told me that she's Arike. What a name! I told her that I would like to give her a hand in sharing the drinks. She was reluctant at first but later agreed on the condition that I would be diligent and respectful to guests. I nodded in full affirmation without thinking. Was I in my right senses? I doubt.

That night, I ran helter shelter to attend to famished guests. Some guests are created glutton. I saw that.

'Would you prefer salad on your fried rice?', that was me taking orders. Some wanted stew on it. I was like, 'OK'. I just have to be diligent. Arike wanted me to be.

While this lasted, Arike was somewhere - I didn't know, attending to some other things I guess. I don't just mind. I just want to get her sympathy and care afterwards. I am hardworking, like seriously.

Alas! Arike came out of the hidden, but holding a hand. Whose hand? I can't guess. Maybe her uncles' or brothers', I can't be so sure. My luck began to get 'waterish' when Arike came to thank me for all I have been doing for her for the past hours. She declared that I was lovely and helpful. I felt elated until she introduced the man who has being smiling while she was reciting her complement for me.

"So, Mr Yemi, meet my fiance. He is into buying and selling of fruits. He sells in a wholesale market o. By the way, I haven't introduced myself properly to you. I am an event planner. My service was needed here so I had to come and do what I am job", Arike said and smiled.
I glanced into the air. I had the 'someone should tap me' look. I can't believe my ears. I started feeling pain in my stomach. It was then that I knew I haven't eaten for the past three hours since we got there. I had served my friends more than three times. That night, I was fooled by beauty that belongs to someone else.


Heritage is an author, poet and fiction writer. He is currently a Law student at  University of Ilorin, Ilorin
You can contact him
For more enquiries,
+2349038459386 or
kaykid0007@gmail.com

HOPE OVER DESPAIR

Mother was a strong woman. By day, she was the epitome of hardwork slaving to feed the family and send her only child to school, but at night she always broke down, a suffering woman who needed to cry herself to sleep. Father used to work at the factory at Tse-Kucha, with a reasonable income. We lived a happy little family until that November in my second year in secondary school when the cement factory was closed down and staff
laid off.

Father had not saved for the rainy day so it hit us hard. Ours was not the only family that staggered; some former workers even found the world too cruel a place to live, wives left. He spent the initial days sleeping at home but soon started spending the whole day at Madam Go-slow’s joint just down the road, coming back deep into the night. He was just going through the motions of existence.

Mother’s petty trading was our means of survival along with the few pennies I got from doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood. There was our ever punctual landlord as unfailing as the inevitable month’s ending. There was food to be bought, there was also my school fees. Some days we ate once and some other days, not at all. One night as we
sat on the varenda breaking melon seeds, I asked Mother why she hadn’t let me drop out. She hesitated a moment and answered, “Don’t you want to go to school?”
“I do.”

She hesitated a moment longer than at first and with a calmness peculiar to her, she went on.

“Our condition right now is very bad, you know that but it doesn’t have to remain this way forever. I would rather go to bed hungry so
that you may go to school. I don’t mind going naked either, just so you go to school. You know why?”

She didn’t wait for an answer but went on

“Because there is hope; you can have a good future, but you have to go to school first. One day you’ll pull us out of this wretched life we are living. Despair only strives where there is no hope; hope will always triumph over despair.
I have a strong belief that you will come to something if you go to school, that gives me strength.”

Those words were never to be forgotten.

At school, I kept pushing on. One day, our English master asked us to write a factual account of the happiest day of our lives. I wrote my essay in future tense, the next day he called me to his office. He told me my essay was quite the best but curious to know why it was in
future tense. I explained how my happiest day was yet to come. I went ahead to tell him all. That day he went home with me.

The following term I left to live with him and his wife in the school’s staff quarters. He was the Vice Principal so he had a house in school. He was to take responsibility for my schooling for the remainder of my secondary education. Mother was overjoyed.

Mr. Dajo, the VP provided an environment that allowed me to come out with an O’ Level result that earned me a state-government scholarship
to the university.

Looking back, I’m most grateful to Mother, that woman who walked naked, slept hungry in hope. Through all the hard times, she never
despaired. She passed away before I completed my engineering degree, she didn’t enjoy the fruits of her pain. A year later, Father also passed on. The lesson Mother taught me never died: hope over despair

Story by WISDOM BARTHOLOMEW

 Wisdom Bartholomew
My. Dad.
He is about the fiercest person I know. There was this thing that was terrifying about him. My Dad would literally have shouted down the walls of Jericho if he was in existence with the Israelites then. I know some people will come and say that I'm exaggerating. I wouldn't blame you tho. A single experience will change your mindset. You see all that muscle Samson was flexing in the Bible by killing a lion with the jaw bone of an ass? My Father doesn't need all that effizy. Just a minute stare into the eyes of the lion and it would send it running back in fear and trembling. Yes. My dad is bad ass like that. I've had a lot of memories with him and his whip. But I'll share with you the one I'll never ever forget. Even if Amnesia looked me in the face and gave me three dirty slaps.

I just got into Ss2 then. Young, silly and in love. Yesssss. There was this fine slim Edo chic I was madly in love with then... (She'll even read this post). I swore by the moon and the stars that I would do anything for her mehn. See my life na. The love was sweet and young so I enjoyed it. I wouldn't mind not having some doughnuts then for lunch. My girlfriend had to eat before I could even think about it. Soo fam, it was the week of her birthday. A Wednesday, it was. I had started that week with nothing in my pockets at all. And it was Monday, meaning I have just two days to get the love of my life a birthday present. That same Monday, I got home from school and my Dad asked me to go withdraw 10,000 naira from the bank. He had thoroughly taught me the processes I had to go through so I saw it as no big deal. On my way to the Bank, the idiot in me began to reveal itself. Telling me I could withdraw more so I'd buy my girlfriend a befitting birthday gift. The tug of war between my heart and my brain continued for a while but my heart won eventually. Stupid heart.
I got to the bank and made a withdrawal of 12K as opposed to the initial 10K. I did that thinking my Dad wouldn't know... Not even realizing that he'd be sent a debit alert text message. So with the thought in my mind that I had won. I journeyed home cheerfully. On getting home, my Dad was already waiting for me with an explanation for the additional 2,000 naira that was debited. So I gave him a lie that I didn't know o... That maybe it was a mistake from the bank. Of course he wasn't having any of that. He promised to go to the bank the following day for clarity sake but then kicked against it and said he'd go immediately. I tried my best to make him see reasons not to go. But NOOO! I feigned sickness but he gave me the terrifying stare and almost immediately I got healed.

So we got to the bank and he asked me to point directly to the bank attendant that I made the withdrawal through. I did and we began to walk towards her. With every step that we took, I was equally just a step closer to my grave. I don't know how many times I prayed in my mind that the lord should help me see that day through. Finally, we were standing in her very before. And just as we got there, the bank attendant said, "You! You just left here not too long ago o. Is anything wrong?" And that was when I know that nothing can save me fa.

My father narrated everything to her and then she proceeded to bring out the withdrawal slips that had been filled for the day. As many as they are, my Dad sat somewhere not minding the piercing stares of the other people, he took his time and checked every one of the slip until he finally discovered my own. And there it was seen that I intentionally withdrew and additional 2K. He just packed everything up and returned it back. Told me to wait here and he'd be back soon. I swear he said it so casually that you'd think nothing was going to happen. He left and came back with a slender looking cane. I could swear that I saw my world turning black. My father flogged me from inside the the banking hall and then into the streets. I ran but he chased me. I remember how I thought I hard escaped him only to run into some guys who grabbed me and called him that I was with them. He came there and gave me the beating of my life. And then left for home. He got home and was still waiting for me. Immediately I got home, he flogged me so much that I would later break up with the girlfriend on the next day of school.
That I'm actually alive today to tell the story is beyond me. A miracle indeed. I swear even my children's children will hear this story. Nonsense and young love!

COMPOSED by AGWAM KENSINGTON

After a century for fighting corruption, Nigeria finally became the most corrupt-free and straightforward country in the world. The funds were finally put to good use, every single road underwent serious reconstruction. The health care sector was established on a better ground. The budget meant for education graciously used for the establishing more schools in rural areas, renovations were made to the schools already standing, Nigeria can finally give standard education to every child. For education became free. The government schools, that is, while every student who finished from a government institution was entitled to a monthly wage. The traders were given modern complexes to showcase their wares, this was made by the new government to stop the obstruction traffic in major roads, and to prevent environmental pollution.

Nigerian was ranked number two, for the most environmentally conscious country on earth. Eco friendly and beautifully green. There was a law guiding those that litter their surroundings. The defaults were fined. This reduced the rate of environmental pollution to a staggering level. 

Nigeria became bio friendly.

Countries surrounding Nigeria and beyond bought goods from our local farmers, every farmer with the specific requirements was given adequate funds, and the farmers association grew at a staggering rate. Because of this, the hunger reduced, and poverty was never extended to the food sector. Everyone had enough to eat.

Nigeria eliminated poverty.

Every step of the way, fighting corruption, Nigeria and her people faced a lot of challenges. From economic backdrop, to fuel subsidy, to inadequate jobs for the masses and lack of education. But now, Nigeria's naira is equivalent to a dollar, every six months, three thousand job vacancies are made for graduates, and ten thousand for citizens with vocational skills. Fuel circulated to all parts of the country, it was shared equally and fairly. Surprisingly, the citizens stopped patronizing foreign goods, and started to create. They patronize their Aba brothers and bought art from the local artists and art dealers. A new fashion designer emerged from Nigeria. . . He went global, with his new designer jeans and suits. All the countries surrounding Nigeria came to witness this things. Even The world's superpower, America, imported Nigerian goods to their country.

Nigeria became the world's number one supplier of petrol and cocoa.

On the entertainment sector, new artists were born. Legends even. Singers whose song became global, albums went platinum. The writers emerged. Bagging Nobel awards, the actors, destroyed the Academy Award's long tradition and took gulped countless Academy Awards. 

Nigeria's entertainment became global. Yoruba became a global language. 

All these things would never have been possible if our leaders hadn't come together to settle their differences. The long fight of tribalism was long lost. There was a national declaration against any act or form of tribalism, the defaults will be apprehended. 

Nigeria became one. Biafra was never established. Thankfully.

The decade fight against the igbos finally dissolved. They were given amnesty, but not to separate themselves from the rest of us, however, another law was passed to the general public that any person caught discriminating the igbos was taken to court. This act, surprisingly, was effective.

Nigeria underwent a drastic change within a short time, this shocked the world. The rate of people travelling outside the country reduced. Because jobs were provided, and scammers and internet fraudsters were wiped out. Almost to extinction. It was those from neighbouring countries that came to Nigeria, searching for greener pastures. [pun intended].

Nigeria became an Utopia for excellence. The world's third superpower and number four exporter. 

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My name is Agwam Kensington. This is my dream for Nigeria. It can only materialize if we all come together, as one, not two, to make our country move forward. It is not a dream, it's a reality I am ready to materialize with my little effort. Change begins with me, and you... If we all have a positive mind towards our great country, our positive thoughts can change everything. I'm a believer in the mind-over-matter theory. I believe our minds have the power to control matter around us. It's the reason why we are having problems here and there; because of the negative thoughts for Nigeria. Let us come together and built a positively charged country. A nation at-one-ment.

Let's make Nigeria great.

Thank you...

(c) Agwam (Zancrow) Kensington,
2017, 19:12PM.

My secondary education was very fast, I had scourge through the jamb brochure, looking for presentable yet an easy course that would fetch good money at the end of my graduation,so I could put a smile on my mother's face and fulfill her dream. University of ilorin seems to be the most familiar of all institution in most of the pages I have opened. I registered for utme and also remedial.

Few months later I got a text that have been offered a provisional admission for the remedial program. It wasn't easy for my mother but she had to let go of me. Few days later I left for the program. Funny enough the place was more of a village. The name itself sounds weirder than anyone could ever imagine (Fufu) somewhere in Ilorin south.

Pre-university life was an awesome experience. There were lot of people from different states both the good,intelligent,decent kids and also smokers,touts and indecent ones. I happened to live with other types of the kids, the gangling,indecent,dull,unintelligent and party freaks. Tunde, my roommate posses even more bad characteristics than the one have listed, he doesn't read, cook , clean up or do anything concerning our room. I have never for once complained tho. on different occasions he'll come to the hostel with his girlfriend and I'd have no other choice than to sleep with our neighbor. Its goes like that sequentially and practically almost every time.

I was very young, the youngest,most of those people in my hostel both the male and female barely have social talks with me because they believed have got little or no experience, I was isolated,secluded and even shattered. But between them, there seemed to be a strong bond. That doesn't change who have been or how each and everyone of them sees me , in fact I answer errands for them. Just maybe if I do so they'd probably hold me along with them but it all went in vain.

Few months later I was already used to the isolation, so there came a time they were to attend a party, the rich boy who was originally invited to the party had gotten a table for 10 ticket and they all waited patiently for the day. On the day of the party they've all dressed up shinning and glittering in fashion, I was outside staring at them like a lost soul, as they set to leave for the party, they counted themselves and discovered that there were 9th of them. The last girl (Tola) that was supposed to perfect their figure had gone home on emergency.
So they came to me and tell me to dress up, that I'd be following them.

I made a beeline into my room happily, brought out my best cloth, I was about to put it on when the cloud changed and everything turned around ? I asked myself why me ? Why would I be a replacement? Why would I be a second choice? Why would I trade my self esteem for ordinary party? Oh no this isn't me , I can't do it, I won't do it, I'm not even going, I concluded.

That was the best decision I could remember that have made so far in the journey of my adulthood, I didn't trade my self esteem and human value over a party. Whatever the case, aspire and work towards being the first choice. You're expensive, don't sell yourself cheap.


Happy new month!!!

Story by VICTOR DANIEL

My memories of my mother are becoming more blurry as I grow older. But I remember certain events that touched my life so much that I still feel the reverberation even as I get older.

There was this time, I was 7 I think, I was a truant in school. I would always leave the class at free periods, wandering around the town with my friends. I was reported To her by the teacher on one occasion. My mother was the typical African mother. Her hand worked faster than her mouth and she was quite dramatic, lol. I remembered she beated me silly, but then it didn't change me. I would still sneak out of class hoping I didn't get caught. I would eventually get caught. I get reported to my mother and get beaten up by her repeatedly. So, one day she considered a different approach.

My mother was a very emotional woman. I remember seeing her cry often, sometimes when she scolded me and I cried she cried along. Especially at the point when I became her only surviving child.

So on this day I had repeated my usual offence and I was reported to her again. She took me home. On the way home I had already consoled myself to be mentally steady for the combos of slaps and wires that were going to rain on my skin. We got home and she took me inside her room; locked the door and pulled a wire. Tears already welled in her eyes and her voice was shaking when she spoke to me. She said to me:

"Victor, I'm tired of beating you. You are probably never going to change by being beaten. I don't know if I had made a mistake by the way I raised you. Maybe I have, maybe it's my fault. Take this wire, and flog me, if that is what it will take for you to change."

By the time she finished saying this, strings of tears already glided freely down her face. Then, then, mummy put the wire in my hands and pulled her blouse. Only her bra was left. "Victor, flog me, please."

That day, standing in the room alone with my mother, holding that wire and watching my mother offer her bare skin as a penance for my correction, I died multiple deaths inside of me. Guilt, shame, self resentment and pity plagued my soul. I started crying; wailing in fact. I dumped myself on the ground and cried. It was a scene to remember; mother and child, alone in the room washing the iniquities of the child with tears, that hurt more than the strokes of whips. I think I cried that day more than I did when she eventually became a butterfly.

That day, till the day she was buried, I never gave her any cause to hit me again. That day, without hitting me, I changed.

I will always love you, wherever you are.

Story by Akin Omo Akin


A great wall separated the two kingdoms in the ancient times. Firmly rooted in the earth, it stood taller than the highest mountains, sturdy and enigmatic, adorned with rare stones and extensive fortification of inexplicable strategic complexity, which made it very difficult for anyone to get over it. Some say it was built by rich merchants to belittle the wall of Jericho, others say it was planted in the ground by the gods themselves.


The people of Ulum envied those who dwelled on the other side of the wall. The flamboyant artistry and aura resonated by the wall provided hints that their distant neighbors lived in luxury.


There came a period when a very great starvation enwrapped the city of Ulum. The wise king requested that food be stored and shard all in all to maintain the kingdom. The people were uproarious ‒ most wanted to climb over the wall and seek for assistance from their richer neighbors, some were covetous and wanted to cross over and traverse to luxuriousness.

"We should get over the wall and visit the great city on the opposite side of it!" they said.

The king shook his head in dismay, daunted at the loud state of mind and naivety shown by his people. The chief persuaded him to give his people their opportunity of will so as to quell the rowdy. He inadvertently obliged, and the occupants of Ulum held him to his words, giving him zero Chance to advise them or back track. The chiefs advised them to abstain if the climb was too tough and uphill.

The people of Ulum assembled, as able bodied men prepares to climb the compelling wall. The first man attempted to climb, yet fell and died. A similar destiny likewise came upon the second man. Others were dreaded, however their resilience and enthusiasm was solid. For quite a while, week after week, different man climbed and fell. The ladies lost their spouses; kids lost their fathers, men lost their companions. Still, they moved forward and another man embraced his brother and siblings everyday before going for the climb. Expectation was dismayed, hope was daunted, spirits had died, seal was broken, yet Alabi beat the challenge to climbed. He was determined, very little was left in Ulum. His mom cried, his wife begged, his friends pleaded  for him not to go. Too bad, they said their goodbyes, and wished him good fortunes. Alabi climbed the wall with the will of a warrior. It seemed as though he would fall when he lost balance, however he was strong and held on tight.

Hours gone as the people of Ulum happily and frightfully watched Alabi move to the top. He was a hero, a champion, a lord. His triumph chuckle could be heard on both sides of the equator of the earth. Abruptly, his eyes obscured as he gazed down into the opposite side. His face turned pale as everything stopped. His hands shook, tired and afraid. There was no awesome city; there were no rich neighbors, only a heap of dead bodies half covered in the mud. Alabi scowled as it turned out to be clear to him ‒ these individuals, now decaying without end, had likewise must been attempting to get over the wall, to greener fields. They'd thought Ulum were rich neighbors, or an incredible city. They'd similarly thought Ulum had built the magnificent wall. How mistaken, they were. If only they knew,if only the people of Ulum knew. In his melancholy and grief, Alabi fell into the opposite side, and died.

"Years passed, and the people of Ulum still tried to get over the wall. Many died. Nobody knew what Alabi had seen.” Grandpa said as he finished his story. “Never judge a book by its cover

SILENT DEATH

She harbours her own pain.
She is under a compulsion for forceful gain.
She enjoys her every moment.
She succumbs to every movement.

Her husband is her saviour.
Her husband creates a flavour;
He gyrates her depression.
He also motivates her digression.

He gives her the sweetness of his bitter.
He molests her like her killer.
He assaults her freedom.
He whips her on random.

She is a forced sex toy.
She gets beaten contrary to her joy.
She regrets her every escape.
She fake her sleep on tape.

Rain of sorrow kept falling.
Her freedom is shunning.
Her slavery days increases.
Her joy of good living is in its pieces.


Poet: HERITAGE


HERITAGE is an author, poet and fiction writer. He is currently a law student at  University of Ilorin, Ilorin
You can contact him
For more enquiries,
+2349038459386 or
kaykid0007@gmail.com

STORY by Heritage


'my mother's care is the greatest challenges of my life", Tejumola said.

It was a bright Monday morning as everyone was giving different opinion on how bright and scorching the sun was. Some guessed the day's brightness was a sign of rain likely to fall later in the day while others were of the opinion that it meant the day will be a good and fruitful one.

It was however another day of the usual for Teju, as popularly called by friends and relatives. She was kicked out of bed on that fateful day around 4:30am to engage in her daily routines.

Teju is the daughter of Mrs Olagun, who is now a widow. Teju lost her father to an accident at the tender age of nine. She is the second child among three siblings. She is a diligent, brilliant and gentle girl of 16. She is in Senior Secondary School 2(SS 2).

Being the only girl among the three children of the Olaguns, she was been made to overwork. Her siblings are not helping the matter too as they fold their arms and watch their favorites TV shows every now and then.

On that fateful Monday, she did all the stated chores of hers. On her way to the bathroom, she was caught unawares by her mother who landed a sounding electrifying slap to her amazement.

"Where are your manners? Didn't I told you to bring my food?" Mrs Olagun asked.

It now dawned on Teju that she has just being hitted right now because of her slight forgetfulness. She bursted into tears while she made her way to the kitchen to carry her Mother's food.

Teju went to school that day with a clue of sorrow. She didn't concentrate in class. Her moodiness was noticed by her seat-partner, Michael.

Michael can be said to be the only friend of Teju. He is a mischievous guy who hunts girls with his handsomeness and well built body. He has being developing an hidden emotion for Teju since their SS 1 days. He has being diligent enough not to break their friendship by his emotional approach.

Teju, having no other choice, disclosed what happened and has being happening to her. Michael was taken aback trying to comprehend what might have caused such. He had nothing to say than to calm her down and encourage her to think only of the sensation the future breeds if she persevere.

Michael being a sharp guy immediately seized that particular moment to tell Teju how his emotions is shaped. He used all the lovely words he has in him. He kept on teasing Teju with charming words.

"Are you for real? Teju said looking up this time into his widely clueless eyes. Michael nodded in confirmation. He also buttressed his point by bragging to always be available during the hard times of Teju. Teju agreed.

Michael was obviously happy at his newest jackpot. He pulled her closer to lean on him which Teju conveniently did, they are the only one in the class anyways. She had no choice than to have someone to share and count on.

Days passed, their affection persistently increases. Teju feels comfortable and relaxed to the core whenever she was with Michael. They got fond of each other to the extent that Teju is now having a reason to be happy.

"Teju seems to be always depressed" Mama Tobi said. Mama Tobi is a neighbour to the Olaguns. She had witnessed on different occasion the way Teju was being chastised. She can't keep it to herself any longer.

"Teju is my only daughter. I am helping her build a good future with her own children as a disciplined wife and a diligent mother", Mrs Olagun said. This sentences left Mama Tobi speechless but still want to convince Mrs Olagun but was met with a message-conveying look which restricted her and made her kept mute.

Teju was planning to visit her boyfriend when her younger brother, Deji accosted her with a stick. He passed by Teju without greeting her. That is not a new thing. He dramatically turned back to hit her sister with the big stick in his hand. Teju became enraged and hit the boy with great force which brought out tears from the insolent boy's eyes running down his cheek.

Mrs Olagun rushed in at the cries of her baby boy. She instantly guessed of Teju's involvement. She walked towards Teju after collecting the stick from the boy. She forcefully attempted to hit Teju which was logically dodged by Teju. Teju ran out of the house with a very high speed to Michael's house.

Michael, though was expecting her yet surprised by her approach. She narrated another episode of her Mother's care. Michael drew her closer and hugged her. Teju immediately started shedding tears on someone she trusted.

As Michael's parent were not around on that particular day, Michael caught hold of his chance to utilization. He went inside leaving poor Teju brooding over her fate when she returns back home.

Michael came out with a wrapped paper which contains something like powder. Teju asked what she should do with a powder. Michael laughed it off thereby explaining to Teju that it was not a powder but Cocaine.

"What!!! Where did you get it from? For how long has it being with you?" Teju lamented drawing back from Michael.

"Calm down. Do you think you are the only one that has problem with your parent? I get over their insults and chastisement with this. It has being keeping me strong. Try it, you won't have any cause to worry again", Michael explained.

Teju, now confused, kept mute for a while. Suddenly, she opened up and requested for little. She inhaled it and was feeling hot. She wanted to stop but her hand was seized by Michael to show her that he was there for her. After five minutes of inhaling, she lost control of herself. She was out of the planet.

Michael noticed this, he started cuddling and fondling her which triggered her sensation. He kissed her and after fifteen minutes took advantage of her. He had sex with her thereby breaking her virtue. Teju regained her consciousness after three hours, the deed had been done.

Teju was deep in thoughts on her way home. Moving from one depression to another. She lost her virginity because of her mother's claim to care.

After two days, Michael apologised to her and tried convincing her of taking Cocaine to ease her discomfort. Poor Teju agreed. Michael promised to take her to where it was being sold at a cheaper price.

Teju is now getting on her mother's nerve as she now inhales Cocaine at freewill. Her mother kept beating and treating her as she used to.

Teju visited her vendor on a particular day. She had not spent up to ten minutes when National Drug Law Enforcement Agents barged in on them. They were arrested instantly.

Mrs Olagun was shocked, depressed and curious about what had led her daughter into drugs. Everyone in the community blamed her for her daughter's misfortune. Mama Tobi also had the courage to continue to relay her reservations from last time's argument which ensued between her and Mrs Salako.

Teju was taken to a Juvenile home where she would spend three free years because she was still a minor at the time of her arrest. She lived her life writing about the assault committed against female children either by parents and guardians.

She is now out of Prison with children of her own. She had two girls, one boy.

"This was how I grew up with damaging hatred called 'care' by my mother. My mother got it wrong with how she handles a female child. Female children are much more critical and prone to danger than male children. She could have protected me from being disflowered at that tender age of 17, had it been she made me comfortable around her. I got inspired to be an Activist against Female genital abuse to mitigate or destroy the barbaric care in our society", Teju said to her children.

Teju visits her mother's grave once in three months. Teju's foundation for humanity is growing.

Heritage is an author, poet and fiction writer. He is currently studying Law at University of Ilorin.(better by far)
For more enquiries, contact:
+2349038459386 or
kaykid0007@gmail.com

CRUSH'S DAY OUT

STORY: by Vechi Allen Vechilz

 I'm alone here come in, she said.
 Being that humble and quiet boy I never wanted to get into trouble all though one mind wanted me to go in,
 so I stared at her for seconds turning to minutes
 then she said again baby come in naah.

 Jesus my brain sparked and I was like "really she called me baby" knowing that she was my crush who is even far far older than me
 after a while I decided to go in,
 i then opened the door, dusted my freaky shoes , and walked inside the house slowly.
 When I went in,
 then we started chatting and "OMG" she was so funny, cracking jokes that could make a baby laugh all day.

 while our conversation was going on, she saw a pimple on my face,
 and she was like "wait wait vechi let me see your face", because of my shyness, i was just blushing staring at her for a while.
 she then said again, do naah before I change my mind.
 I then hurriedly stretched my neck like a Giraffe towards her face,

 when she came closer to me, trying to remove the pimple on my face,
 my junior was already on attention, with style I tried to cover it with my hand .

 Then she moved closer and closer , humble me having that intention that she wanted to help remove my pimple kept calm and did as If I didn't care , although I also had negative thoughts on my mind too.
 on the process of the pimple remover her lips accidentally collided with mine.

 then my head got big and I was like "finally this dream is coming through "
 by then I was already turned on like security lights on the watch.
 then I grabbed her waist kissing her gently, "within me I then planned to take of my nicker ".

 before I could unzip my nicker I heard a horn on the gate "PORM PORM ".
 I almost got mad when she said "oh my God!!!, my dad is back " in fact that statement alone made everything worse knowing quite well that her father was an army general, (omo see suicide mission), at that point in time i tried hiding at her room wardrobe, but unfortunately the wardrobe was too small to contain me, so i tried hiding under the bed, (na that one con worse pass) the bed again couldn't cover me.
 oooh Jesus oooh i am finished!!! (i exclaimed with my hands tied together on my head) as i knelt down with sweat allover my face and my head in a fully air-conditioned room "cabashing in tongues " that if god saves me today, I'll never dream of a blow job or something affiliated to it again in my life.
READ ALSO:-FANTASY

 while i was on my knees cabashing suddenly I felt this hard slap on my leg with a familiar voice which sounded like slim saying "vechi!! vechi!! wake up you Don late for class " Abeg borrow me your constitution "
 Then I realized it was all dream, Immediately i knelt down and started thanking God for saving my ass from one big tank of trouble

 ©VECHI ALLEN VECHILZ

Story by:- AKIN OMO AKIN

Hunger ate the better portion of me the entire day since I was running errands for my senior sibling who supported me in the college and accommodated me.

As I staggered to the dining, I was disillusioned when I understood that supper wasn't in the table. I  made a beeline back to my room. As I climbed the stairs, my legs couldn't carry me however I figured out the way into my room. I chose to clean up as the sustenance (food) is being  prepared; Lilian, my sibling's wife on the other hand hasn't been an awful cook, I trusted she'll make the pottage yam worthwile. The shower hurried out and sprinkled on my afro-hair, dribbled down my face, then to my back. The temperature of the water ended up plainly hot when it arrived on my legs. Everything worked out perfectly as I was washing endlessly,the stress and worries of the day.

as I was making the most of my shower, I heard foot steps, yet then the foam cleanser had secured and gotten the vital side of my face. I managed to say"who's there?".
Since the entire duplex is occupied by me, my sibling and his wife.my sibling wasn't around, along these lines, beside Lilian, there's no other individual with me in that huge house. Who then might would it be? Is it ideal to say that it was Lilian? No! it couldn't be. She'd need nothing to do inside my room, regardless of the possibility that she required or needs me she'd rather call me, she generally does. I was in a draw of considerations, yet I summoned fearlessness to roar once more "who is there?"

No reaction came however the footsteps continued shutting in towards the restroom. I washed off the foam cleanser, tied my towel and bounced out to know who is attempting to invade my privacy.

Lo! And behold, it was Lilian standing right inside my room, covered just with her white towel.

"What's it ma'am, I thought you're preparing supper… " or do you wish to se............nd, I said before she cut me off.

"Tonio, I've instructed you to address me by my name, Lilian" she said coming closer and having her full chest rumbling on mine. She appeared to have showered as well, I could perceive the scent Secrets of Jennifer Lopez, her favourite soap.

"What do you want Lilian?" I said in shock.

"Everything is not been said, do what you should" she said with a voice brimming of full seduction, her laps was continuously bumping on mine and before I could express a word her pink lips found mine. It was a long kiss and her lips possessed a flavor like strawberry.

Having anything to do with my sister-in-law was the exact opposite thing I wanted. My sibling would be disappointed if by chance he discovers. Be as it may, imagine a scenario in which she was putting me to test. Imagine a scenario where my sibling knew about this. Imagine a scenario in which this would later happened to be one of these ladies tricks. Exactly what if?.

I was gulped in a sea of "what if" yet I never thought of the more regrettable thing until it came; and that was "Consider the possibility that my brother gets us on doing this".

READ ALSO:- SKIN TO SKIN

As we kissed, I went deep, however she was far away, my manhood has already stood still. We fingered ourselves impractically until she extricated her towel. I beheld her full chest and hip, she'd a spotless shave. Before I could articulate another word from my mouth she pushed me on the quaint bed and we started having sex. We reached climax and was both carried away by pleasure before I sighted my sibling stranding by the entryway with a rifle in his grasp. I needed to bounce off and explain for myself, however the following thing I heard was "gbum". The projectile from the weapon penetrated my trunk.

I opened my eyes just to understand that I was on the feasting seat.i didnt go to the room,i never took shower Lilian scooped yam from the pot and my brother was having his office file recorded in his laptop taking a gander look at me just as if he comprehended what had happened in my dream.

"Old boy dozing off on a chair" he muttered.

"Won't you eat before you rest" Lilian said, smilling at me.

Gracious! It was a dream filled with fantasies Yet, WHAT IF it was real?

"At the point when the cassava-flour vender lost all her cassava-flour to the twist, out of sharpness she heaved curses at the wind. She never realized that the wind had utilized that cassava-flour to fill and fix the gap underneath the kayak her lone child is going over. In the event that she knew, she would have favored the twist for not giving her a chance to lose her lone child to the ocean. Each failure is a gift."  These are the expressions of my mom and I never comprehended the significance.

One night, the town-messenger passed a message from the king that each being ought to remain in before its darken. It was said that the traditional priest's will walk thorough the night taking penances and sacrifice   to each intersection where three ways meet in order to appease the spirit of the land. As the day approaches it dim, everybody rushed home. On my way home, two travellers approach me and requesting that I help them safe for the night in my house. Out of good heart and no profound idea, I gave them a space to pass the night. The obscurity ruled for quite a while and it resembled the night will never give the earth a chance to free from its hold. The morning came as regular and I ascended with the brilliant sun to check on the travellers however shockingly, they were gone. Not only that, they Run with my resources and all the cash I had put together for my adventure to the city; in an excursion with my friends, in a quest to change our lives for good. These traveling criminals stole that open chance from me. My associates headed out to the city and left me to appreciate this sharp taste of disappointment and each drop of palm-wine that stream down my throat. The calabash turned into the nearest thing to my mouth; nearer than the words I talk.

READ ALSO :-">SKIN TO SKIN

Early today, I woke up with the sun all over and my entire body overpowered with hurt. At the point when the uncoordinated but excellent chirps of the morning birds are gone, then I realize that the sun has far woken up before me. Where do I begin from? I was wounded far from the warmth of the sun just for the unappealing odor of palm-wine to hit my face. I hacked and moaned. Despondency is mine to drink, and I should drink myself into a daze. Presently I know the sky is as vacant as a crate of water. There are no gods and if there truly are, they are as inert as their dolls on earth. I got off the bed, "god kor god ni" I murmured.

I looked through my window and saw a vehicle drive in and stop some separation away. At that point, individuals rushed to it with shouts and tears. I hurried out to the scene and the ghastliness before me stopped my breath. I saw my very own friend of and other traveling villagers. They said they ran into a trailer on their way to the city four days prior. "I should've been one of them" I thought – a suspected that left me puzzled and frosty for a considerable worth of time.

Presently I comprehend the expressions of my mom. "At the point when the travellers he helped stole all his cash, he was not able go to the city with his friend. He reviled the divine beings and subjected himself to lose hope. He never realized that explorers stole from him a trip that could prompt his death. On the off chance that he knew, he would've favored the travellers and even give them more than they've stolen. My children, everything happens for a reason." These are my words to my kids now.

The thing is that, sometimes we didn’t even know what pissed my dad off. It always looked as if we were walking on eggshells throughout our childhood. Sometimes we would see him coming home and we would immediately stop whatever it was we were doing. I mean whatever we were doing. If we were playing outside we would run inside. If we were playing inside and saw him coming from one of the windows we would stop playing and sit down quietly. We didn’t get flogged for stealing or fighting each other or whatnot because we were getting flogged for things less than that like standing outside when he came in or losing a leg of slipper.

The process was always the same. Maybe we would be playing ‘castle’ in the parlour or watching cartoons. Then suddenly we would hear his keys in the lock. He always came home by 5 o’clock, an hour earlier than our mom and then leave again as soon as she returned. He would have heard the noise from the television before coming in or we wouldn’t have time to rearrange the sofas before he unlocked the door and came into the parlour. He would stare at us with blazing eyes, like we had stolen the Holy Grail itself, and then the shouting would begin. He would bellow and roar and we would be left trembling in our shorts, hoping he wouldn’t go for Mister Koboko. Sometimes he would but sometimes he wouldn’t.

On occasion however, we would do something that we knew would warrant a beating. Like falling over and breaking a vase or tipping over a bottle of wine from the bar or being outside, even if it was the backyard, when he came in. Then we would wait in the parlour, filled with dread and trepidation until he bellowed out the culprit’s name, summoning the person to his room.

Mr. Koboko was a well made horsewhip which our dad kept hanging from a nail behind his door. It was made of twisted leather with a thick head that had a hole in the middle and a twisted body that tapered down to the hard tip at the end. He would call the victim in and ask if you had eaten. That usually wasn’t a good sign of things to come as he was inadvertently asking if you were strong enough to take the beating. He would warn you that if you dodged a stroke it would be replaced by another one. Then he would choose whether to flog you on your hands or buttocks and then depending on which was chosen he would use the head or tail of the whip. And then the flogging would begin.

READ ALSO :-">COMPLICATIONS

The pain as I remember it was excruciating but it was better to bear it. If you moved around you only elicited further anger and more haphazard flogging from him. So we stayed still. We learned not to run from the whip. We were allowed to cry and we would scream our heart out but we dared not move from the spot. After it was over he would send us to our room to remain incommunicado from everyone else in the house till further notice.

Did this punishment help me and my siblings? I honestly can’t say yes to that. We grew up timid and terrified of authority. It took a number of years in the university and away from home to get over the emotional scars of this treatment. And I hope never to behave in such a way to my own kids.

THE SOCIOLOGIST’S THINKING:

Did you hear of the secondary school students who sexually assaulted their female colleague in broad day light as reported by Sahara Reporters?
Do you have a younger one, who intentionally destroys your things in the name of anger?
Does he/she go around bullying or smoking and drinking in the neighborhood?
Don’t just sit back and say “what’s this world turning to”. Stand up, find explanations and seek scientific solutions to the problem JUVENILE DELIQUECY.
Juvenile delinquency is an action that violates the law but is committed by a young person under the legal age of arrest and prosecution. Haralambos simply said they are criminal acts committed by young people, he further gave examples vandalism, stealing, physical assaults, violence, joyriding and a host of others.
WHICH CHILDREN ARE LIKELY TO BE DELIQUENTS?
The World youth report of 2003, identified parental death during armed conflicts, parental alcoholism, poverty , family break down, as pull factors to delinquency, they reported that children who have suffered from any of these are likely to be delinquent than others, so you can expect massive delinquency in the North Eastern Nigeria.


Furthermore, Micheal Shader identified certain risk factors that lead to delinquency, he firstly defined risk factors as characteristics that if present in a given individual would make it possible for such a person to have a disorder. He also warned that Risk factors doesn’t mean the individual would become delinquent it is rather a pointer that if not properly handled may become delinquent.
THE RISK FACTORS
Hyper activity and restlessness
Risk taking and daring behaviors
Love for TV violence
Low IQ
Dishonesty
WHAT’S THE EXPLANATION FOR DELIQUENCY?
Trust Scholars not be asleep on this issue, there have been series of research, explanations and theories in the field, Sociologists and Criminologists have spent a great deal of time on this.
Scholars influenced by R.K Merton believes that juvenile delinquency is a result of a strain in the societal reactions toward who they are, the strain is the difference between what the people around the child wants him to be and who he is. E.g. You may want a child who excels in schools and gather A’s on his report card but in reality the child is just someone who excels on the field of play in sports. Now, he is made to see himself as a failure and a flop in life, the difference between him being a scholar as you want and him being a sports star is called strain. According to Robert Agnew, the child needs to feel successful he meets other children, who like himself are strained, (like they say: birds of the same feather flock together) they then form a delinquent subculture (a gang), in this subculture, they develop their own norms and values which are usually everything you stand against (stealing, violence, truancy, bullying, vandalism etc) since you don’t see him as successful, he does well in the delinquent subculture in order for him to earn respect and admiration from other members of the gang, thus every delinquent behavior you see at home is a result of this i.e. the bully, stealing , vandalism etc are all responses to the search for relevance and admiration, if he is not loved, he becomes feared which either way makes him happy.

WHAT THEN CAN WE DO?
Once you notice your younger one has any of the risk factors identified by Micheal Shader or have suffered any incidents identified by World Youth Report {2003} and his displaying any delinquent act or truancy.

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Ensure a change of friends
Take him for who he is, let him enjoy what he loves doing
Reduction in the marginalization of young people (like reducing the legal age for driving)
Professional development programs should be set up for young people to provide an economic alternative
Establishment of recreational centers to provide an alternative for  physical violence


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