Every girl dreams of a wedding day, preferably a white wedding, looking all flawless, beautiful, and radiant, walking down the aisle to the waiting arms and warm smile of the love of your life.
I want that too, more than anything in the world but these days, it seems my friends are faster than I am as most of them have gotten married or are getting married and I had/have to be there for them all the way. Some confused as to whether or not they want to get married to the men they’re getting married to and some certain that “Yes! This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with”. I’m happy, really happy for them and most of the time when I try so hard to not think about marriage, the society I live in does not give me a chance to put the topic behind my back for later days. I get the hardest knocks when a friend’s wedding is fast approaching and we’re all excited and posting pics of plans along the way, people tend to comment by throwing the questions at me “When is your turn? Who’re u dating at the moment?” And it downs my spirit.
You see, I’m really a baby person, I love babies and I want them fast but I’ve learnt to live my life with God controlling it. I really want a God-fearing man, someone who has the fear of God and would not cheat on me for the prettiest woman in the world, I know! Call me a dreamer but when you’re placed in the hands of a man groomed by God to be cared for, he would see you as God’s own and the fear of God in him would make him treat you as precious, never letting any wrong be done to you, that pure love will pour out from him effortlessly.
Why haven’t I found that man? Well! I went to a university where almost all my school mates are muslims, I tried not to fall for any muslim guy but it was beyond me, till now, I can’t explain how I started dating my present boyfriend, a muslim, he’s so sweet, he’s committed, he’s handsome and funny and now that the issue of marriage constantly drops in our conversations (not by me!!!), he tells me I’m everything he wants in a wife and my religion is not a barrier to him but deep within me, I know what I want, I have always had a dream of a united christian family and how is that going to be achieved if I marry a muslim? So yea! It does but me constantly.
Anyways, not to bore you with these stories. Last week was a wonderful friend’s wedding day, we’ve been friends since secondary school and I’m so excited for her, talk of a dancing and overjoyed bride, Chinelo who we fondly called, Chi-Chi, was that bride.
Here are some of the pics we took.
We had so much fun on this day, we got to meet long-lost secondary school classmates, took pictures, exchanged contacts and frankly speaking, I’ve always been a sucker for wanting to appear in wedding photos so that in years to come, when my friend’s kids are looking at their wedding photos, and they ask “Mum who is this?” I’ll once again be remembered par-adventure we loose contact and I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world. I love my friends.
Please feel free to comment, like and/or share. With love, #girllivinglife
It was 8 o’clock that morning and I was already dressed in my black dress, black shoes and no make-up, with my brushed hair in a pony tail. I was heading to Yaba for a friend’s funeral.
She was 35 and beautiful, a mother of two beautiful children. I really did not want to go because I was not sure of how I was going to react. I was not sure if I could pull myself together.
Anyway, I got to the church and it was filled with people who knew her and who had heard of her. As I approached the church, I was already battling with the huge lump in my throat, making sure that I could at least sit through the service. I managed to get inside, and then the ushers took me up-front to sit with the family.
I saw her mother and siblings who were weeping uncontrollably, so I tried to console them while battling with that same lump in my throat. I did all I could until the kids walked into the church with the nanny. Oh my goodness, now that lump has melted into liquid, the flood gates were flung open and the tears started gushing out. It was not a very pleasant sight as the choir leader could not continue the song.
This is to give you an insight into the kind of person my friend was and the life she lived.
She was extremely intelligent, kind, simple and most of all was in love with God and His word.
Well, as I tried to calm down, he walked in —THE HUSBAND.
I am sure by now you are thinking I would run to console him since I was very close to her and he knew me. Instead, I stood up and walked to the other side of the church and sat down. That was when I knew how much respect I had for the church and the dead.
If I could, I would have locked him up in the coffin so he could go with her; after all, he put her there in the first place.
We had all begged, prayed, complained, reported, and fought, just to get him to stop beating her. I was tired of seeing the black eye, the swollen face, the bruised arms and the constant headaches. It was so bad that I had to tell him that one day he would do something really bad to his wife and end up behind bars. Little did I know that the day in question was fast approaching.
He had beaten her so much for sending her own money to her mother without telling him, and when she tried to protect herself by pushing him off her, he got infuriated and hit her head on the wall.
This time no black eye, no bruise to worry about, she just did not wake up.
When her sister called me in the middle of the night, I was not sure whether to cry or get angry or scream. My whole body was shaking and all I could say was “no… no… no… please God, no, no, no… please”.
I started to feel guilty, “maybe I should have moved her out of there” but then again who am I to move her out of her husband’s house when she herself refused to move. It really hurt, so much that even as I am writing this I am still crying.
The case was taken to court and was dismissed, because according to the courts the evidence was not enough, and so he was discharged and acquitted.
In a country where an accurate autopsy cannot be carried out, let alone thoroughly investigate a crime, what do you expect?
She is dead and gone but the killer is walking free, and as usual, he has custody of the children whom he has passed on to his new wife.
My heart has been bleeding ever since because I know that this is happening to so many women. Some are still alive today to tell their stories, some are afraid to cry out for help; some cover up when they are asked questions about their black eye; some believe that there is no justice for the abused woman because other cases they have heard of, have always favoured the man, and lastly, some are no longer alive to speak up.
As sad as this is, it is still happening even as I write.
Now it has progressed to acid baths, body mutilation, and other unthinkable things.
In anger, I stormed to the church we all attended and demanded to see the head pastor. When he came out, I screamed and yelled and people came into the church to hold me down. Please, do not think I disrespect men of God. Oh, far from it, in fact I respect them so much because without some of them who have mentored me, I would not be the person I am today.
Truth of the matter is, my late friend’s sister told me that a few days before she died, she had gone to meet the pastor in fear because she had another fight with her husband who told her that he was ready to kill her and nothing would happen to him. He kept saying in pidgin English: “na naija we dey o and when you die your dead body no go come prove to the court say na me kill you”.
My late friend then called her sister to tell her what had happened and that she was going to see the pastor.
I asked her sister: “Why pastor? Why not police?”
The sister laughed and said: “Do you know how many times she tried that? The policeman she met on duty laughed and said, ‘madam na domestic matter be dis abeg, husband and wife must fight, go beg your husband’ ”.
When her husband found out, he laughed and asked if she thought she was in America, then he beat her some more for even attempting.
So, she went to the pastor and told him everything again because that was not the first time she went to him to complain and ask for help. As usual the pastor said: “My daughter, there is nothing God cannot do. Please, prayer is what you need. Keep praying to God to touch his heart, he will not kill you and he will not harm you. Go back home and maintain peace, please; remember that God hates divorce so you cannot leave your home and children”. She left there feeling so dejected and scared, and so she called her sister and told her what the pastor had said.
I tried to think about what could have been going on in her head everyday of her life, thinking that there is no SAFE HAVEN. The man who swore to love and protect you is the one who is killing you; the parents who gave you to him in marriage will tell you not to leave your home because it is not a family trait and it will bring shame upon the family. You are too ashamed to even let people know you are going through domestic violence for fear of being stigmatized; you are not protected by law enforcement agents nor the law because some of them do the same thing to their wives; then the only place which is the house of God also tells you to go back to the place where you are being destroyed.
My heart broke and that was when I wept the most, because no one knows what she could have gone through alone.
So, I looked at this pastor and said ‘I hope you are happy now, I hope you are satisfied that she listened to you and got killed in the process’.
I am not saying I support separation or women running out of their homes, but I insist that there must be temporary measures to take the woman to a safe place until things can be resolved. She has to, at least, be alive first before any reconciliation or anything can even take place.
My question today is: what does the church do in cases like this? Is it saying that because of doctrines women should remain there and die? Is it saying that apart from prayer there is no other way to help?
I poured out my heart to the pastor and asked him a question directly without any apologies, “If your daughter came to you, bruised everyday, threatened and battered, would you tell her to go back there and pray? What if she does and gets killed? What would your reaction be? Will you be able to live with yourself?”
Then I calmed down and said God bless you pastor and thank you, I hope this means she will go to heaven.
He could not utter a word, so I walked out.
Call this ranting, lamenting, disrespectful, but one thing is for sure. We need answers, we need to shout it out loud, we need to educate women and let them know they can cry out for help.
I can’t stress this enough, if you are going through any form of violence, especially domestic violence, you can get help. Please don’t die for nothing. Make that call to Project Alert now 01-4737270, 08052004698 or send an email to email@example.com, log on to their website http://www.projectalertnig.org.
Enough is enough; the time to act is now. Say No To Domestic Violence.
This piece is dedicated to all the women who have lost their lives through domestic violence.
May their souls rest in peace.
By Stella Damasus: A Nigerian actress
THIS writer was invited to deliver a lecture to matriculating students of a tertiary institution in Lagos. The theme for discussion was “Can the youth step up where the adults have failed in their commitment to re-branding Nigeria?” After that engagement, the thoughts of Nigerian youths, especially the challenges facing them, their potentials, disillusionment, fate etc became the recurring decimal hovering on my mind – the thoughts eventually culminated in the decision to once again cast my creative eyes in their direction – to plead their cause and identify where the adults have failed in their responsibilities towards them and also to proffer what can be done to improve their plight.
To start with, the Nigerian youths are among the most talented humanity. Countless number of feats posted across the entire gamut of human endeavours are clear pointers to this fact. In the field of sports, the Nigeria youths are…
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A man in his 30s raped his 22-year-old niece, filmed the act and threatened to release the video if she refused to marry him.
Harian Metro, quoting police sources, reported that the college student had accompanied her uncle to a night market in Kota Damansara.
“After they were done shopping at around 1am, the suspect took the victim to an oil palm estate in Kundang. He stopped the car and started molesting the victim while professing his love. He then asked for her hand in marriage”, the source said.
Fearing for her safety, the victim agreed to marry the man and pleaded not to be harmed.
However, the victim’s plea fell on deaf ears and the horny-bastard proceeded to rape her.
He even filmed the act and threatened to show others the video if she refused to marry him.
The victim lodged a report at the Gombak district police headquarters immediately after the suspect sent her home in the morning.
The case is still being handled by the police…
“Jesus, another bomb-blasts in three different churches in Bauchi state” tobi said while nibbling with her blackberry as we finished the church service today. I didn’t act at all surprised since it is almost a daily occurrence in my country with an extremist group called the Boko Haram, for reasons only known to them, have decided to hunt the country with incessant bomb-blasts causing insecurities in the land.
In my mind, I prayed for God to console the bereaved and we moved on home.
A few hours later, Tobi shouted again, this time like a town crier, hitting the table in front of her “Damn! A plane (DANA AIR) coming from Abuja to Lagos, just crashed in Lagos, on houses, killing 153 passengers, occupants of the houses it crashed on and passersby, mostly children” “Oh my God!” I screamed with tears in my eyes. What a #blacksunday! Jesus what is going on??? What is happening. I felt the pain of those who must have been in the plane. I could just imagine the passengers screaming and shouting while the plane was crashing, I could imagine the look in their eyes, I wondered if they said their final prayers when it dawned on them that they were about to die. I immediately thought of those in those houses probably watching movies, having a good time, sleeping or whatever, not knowing what was coming to them, not knowing today is their last day on earth, and the passersby; I just couldn’t stop crying… This family <= Wife, Husband and three children died in the crash.
Lord! Please take care of them” was all I could mutter, Lord take care of those they left behind.
Somewhere, someplace, a kid is rejoicing that his daddy is coming back from his trip in Abuja, coming home to him in Lagos, a wife is rejoicing her husband is coming back home, a mother is happy to be re-united with her son or daughter again, a husband who had been angry that his wife’s office took her away from him for business, is happy, she’s coming back home to him.
All on this day, SUNDAY. A holy day! Do not they (Boko Haram) have respect for the Holy day? a day set aside for resting and praising God, not resting in heaven, as in death! But resting in your houses in the presence of family, dwelling in the love that radiates from being together with your loved ones.
There’s only so much we can take in this country Nigeria, we’ve suffered so much in the hands of corrupt politicians, extremists causing bomb-blasts occurrences, incompetent air-planes and organisations who see maintenance as a difficult task and wouldn’t mind putting people in danger.
Enough is enough! Its time for peace to reign in Nigeria…
It’s crazy in this period in time for the youths of my dear country, Nigeria, trying to make something out of life, living life on their own, getting a good job, a good home, starting a family and taking good care of our families, since we’ve all been left to our fate with the Government doing nothing to ease the situation.
It is no longer news that out of all the youths in my country, only 20% are employed, the rest of the 80% have to fend for themselves, but how? with no allowances from the government and no job.
But hey! we’re Nigerians, we’ll always survive but don’t get me wrong. We survive legally which many wise youths have already started doing, not illegally.
I can say for myself and my friends that we get lots of complimentary cards everyday with the phrase “Hey! Here’s my card, i do this, i do that” different forms of businesses mostly small-scale, spring up on a daily basis which is wise if you ask me.
My friend Doyin learnt sewing and is now very good at it.My sister bought two female Samoyed puppies, she took care of them, till they grew, mated and littered, then their puppies, she sells, to use the money to buy other dogs from other breeds, and like that, she is expanding her dog business which she calls O Pets.
now she goes around giving her complimentary card to people in other to get brides who need such services. I myself, due to my love for a smooth skin, and a smooth face, have learnt and researched on different methods to get a face and body so smooth, hence, my little facial spa in my house
since i have no money to get a shop in the business areas. My fist love is buying a large shop, employing talented tailors and sewing different forms of styles i design for the numerous customers i know i am going to have but my restraint: MONEY. In order to get the amount of money needed for that, my spa comes in right under my roof so i can save some money for the future, for my dream.
People would say “How can a graduate take up sewing, fixing nails or making other people up for occasions when he or she should be working in an office, earning good money” since these kinds of jobs are considered shabby in my country and should be left for the uneducated especially if on a small-scale basis.
We will survive, we’ll get better, we can only pray and hope that our small scale businesses as they are on the increase, will escalate the country’s economy so that the government can in turn create policies that will benefit the masses even to the last man standing,
But right now, hey! here’s my card, oh! sorry i don’t have a card yet, but here’s my number +2348156348898, call me for your facial spa any day of the week…
This is the first time my heart won’t stop pounding fast considering the fact that my mum will soon come around to perform her usual routine eye and body check on me to see if she will notice any symptoms of pregnancy. Why is all this happening to me now? …God why did you mold me with stubborn sand and breathe in me all atoms of stubbornness. This nature of mine has caused me to decline my mother’s advice on pre-marital sex and men but allowed my peers to lure me into the sinful act, telling me “Mary Magdalene, see no virgin dey for dis world again o! omo no dull yourself, fit in and have your fun…” I felt I was in the midst of wise people, I taught my mother was old fashioned and that I knew everything I needed to know which has landed me in this shame! Now, I’m an 18 years old pregnant foooooooooooool, oh! Why me????? My dad, oh my dad. What is he going to do when he finds out, that is, after my mum must have blown the trumpet, How would he react? Can I ever be his lovely daughter again? The hot-tempered man is going to beat the bastard baby out of me. Lord help me!!!!!!! I’m going to bring a massive shame upon my father who has been bragging to his friends that his daughter does not even have a boyfriend, he’s very sure she won’t engage in any form of pre-marital sex and that she’ll marry as a virgin. The foolish boy that got me into this mess has gone far away upon hearing it from me that he is soon to be a father. Can you imagine!!! Just last week, our dog had six (6) puppies and everyone was so happy, we thought the dog might need (TLC) Tender love and care after delivery so we gave it to her to the fullest. We gave it milk, food from nice eateries; we cleaned and over cleaned its cage for comfort. But for me, is it going to be the same? Afterall, I’m going to be having just one baby not six like our dog. I’m very certain I’m not going to get half the love my dog was given, so I’ll be right to say, because of my foolish mistake, our family dog is now better than me. Three months ago when we found out that the dog was pregnant, the whole family got closer to her, we pampered her and even allowed her sleep on our couch whenever she wanted to even if someone was sitting on it before, the person would have to get up because our pregnant dog wants to sit down and if you waste time, she’ll bark at you or even pull your dress so you’ll get down by force. I’m pregnant now but no one is celebrating, I’ve been sleeping and spitting, I’ve even lost my appetite; my mum is looking at me in a suspicious way……what am I going to do now? My friends have all deserted me, some are making jest of me. It won’t be long before my father finds out because the trumpet-blower (mum) is coming at me now as I write this to do her usual body-check routine on me, please help me o!!!
One bright morning, 10 years old Jesus Christ was in the mood to play so he went to his neighbor’s house to play with the children.
The mother of the little ones who always thought that Jesus was strange as he was so upright, hid her children in a basket. On getting to the house, Jesus said: “Good morning ma, I came to play with your children, are they home?”
“No, they aren’t” lied the woman. Then Jesus asked, “what is inside your basket?”
“They are pigs” she replied. Without arguing, Jesus walked away… The woman heaved a sigh of relief, opened her basket, and alas! she saw pigs instead of her little ones.
She screamed and ran to Jesus begging, “I’m sorry Jesus, forgive me, I’ll never lie again in my life”
Then said Jesus Christ, “Go back to your home, your children are back to you and never lie woman”