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Elda Stories Blog

Stories that gladdens the heart

JOKE: THE WISE DOCTOR

A Nigerian Graduate can’t find a job so he opens a clinic and puts a sign outside “GET TREATMENT FOR $20. IF NOT CURED GET BACK $100.”

A lawyer thinks this is a great opportunity to earn $100 and
goes to the clinic.

Lawyer: I have lost my sense of taste”.

Nigerian Graduate:Nurse, bring medicine from box no. 22 and put 3 drops in patient’s mouth.

Lawyer: Ugh. This is kerosene.

Nigerian Graduate:Congrats, your sense of taste is restored. Give
me $20

The annoyed lawyer goes back after a few days to recover his money.

Lawyer:I have lost my memory. I cannot remember anything.

Nigerian Graduate:Nurse, bring medicine from box no. 22 and put 3 drops in his mouth.

Lawyer (annoyed):This is kerosene. You gave this to me
last time for restoring my taste.

Nigerian Graduate:Congrats. You got your memory back. Give me $
20.

The fuming lawyer pays him, and then comes back a week later determined to get back $100.

Lawyer:My eyesight has become very weak.

Nigerian Graduate:Well, I don’t have any medicine for that, so take this $100.

Lawyer (staring at the note):But this is $20, not $100.

Nigerian Graduate:Congrats, your eyesight is restored. Give me $
20.

You can’t beat a Nigerian Graduate!

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JOKE: DENNIS THE INTELLIGENT BOY

A female teacher, was having a problem with a boy called Dennis in her class of 3rd grade.

Dennis told her,”Madam, I should be in 4th grade. I’m smarter than my sister and she’s in the 4th grade”.

The Teacher had heard enough of his complaining and took Dennis to the Principal’ s office.

She explained everything to the Principal who decided to test Dennis with some questions that a 4th grade should know, which including reciting the “Times Table”, which he got right.

The Principal asked Dennis many other questions and Dennis got them all right, too.

The Principal then asked Madam to send Dennis to 4th grade.

Madam decided to ask some more questions and the Principal agreed.

Madam: What does a cow have four of, that I’ve only two of?

Dennis: Legs.

Madam: What’s in your pants that you have but I don’t have?

Dennis: Pockets

Madam: What starts with a “C” and ends with “T”, is hairy, oval, delicious and contains thin whitish liquid?

Dennis: Coconut.

Madam: What goes in hard and pink then comes out soft and sticky?

The principal’s eyes opened really wide.

But before he could stop the answer, Dennis replied,”Bubble Gum.”

The test continued.

Madam: You stick your poles inside me. You tie me down to get
me up. I get wet before you do. What am I?

Dennis: Tent.

The principal was looking restless.

Madam: A finger goes in me. You fiddle with me when you’re bored. The best man always has me 1st, what am I?

Dennis: Wedding Ring

Madam: I come in many sizes. When I’m not well, I drip. When you blow me, you feel good?

Dennis: Nose.

Madam: I’ve a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates. I come with a quiver?

Dennis: Arrow.

Madam: What starts with ‘F’ & ends with ‘K’ and if you don’t get it, you’ve to use your hand?

Dennis: Fork

Madam: What’s it that all men have, it’s longer in some men
than others, the Pope doesn’t use his & a man gives it 2 his wife after marriage?

Dennis: Surname.

Madam: What part of the man has no bone, but has muscles with a lot of veins and is responsible for making love?

“Heart”, Dennis replied.

The principal breathed a sigh of relief and told the teacher,”Send Dennis to the university. I got the last 10 questions wrong
myself”.

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THE ANGEL AND THE MONK

In a monastery lived a certain monk for 18yrs without coming out. The monk,though a holy
man, sometimes questions why God should create people beautiful while others very ugly,some too
tall,others too short,some too fat others thin, why God should make some people to be basking in
wealth, while others living in abject poverty etc.

This disparity was giving him a serious cause for concern and caused him sleepless nights.

One day,an angel of God appeared to him and said,”my friend,you have lived here for a long time
without coming out. Now come with me lets take a walk round the town so that you can refresh your memory with the city life.”

The monk agreed and they set out.

As they were going,they saw a group of people rejoicing and celebrating.

The angel said to the monk,”Let’s enter there”.

They both entered.The owner of the house received them warmly. He offered them food and drink.

After they had eaten (though the angel did not eat but was pretending to be eating) the angel asked the man,”what is this celebration all about?”

The man replied,”The man I had been in enemity with for the past 10 years,called me and made
peace with me. He gave me this golden cup as a sign of our reconciliation, so I called my relations and friends to rejoice with me,for this former enemy of mine has made peace with me”.

The angel nodded and said,”Thank God. It’s more rewarding to be at peace with people than to
keep malice. Go ahead with your celebration but we shall be taking our leave now”.

The man bade them farewell, saying,”Thank sirs for your visit. I appreciate. Farewell”.

The angel and the monk left.

Somewhere along the road,the angel dipped hand inside his pocket and brought out that man’s golden cup and showed to the monk and said,”I have stolen that man’s golden cup”.

The monk was really surprised at this.

“What!”,The monk exclaimed.

“Why did you do such a devilish deed? That man was kind to us. Even without knowing who we were,he received us into his house,gave us food and drink. Why pay him back with evil?”,he added.

The angel told him to keep quiet and stop asking foolish questions.

Helplessly and sheepishly,the monk moved on and the angel followed.

When they got to one bungalow, the angel said to the monk,”Let’s go into that house”.

The monk obeyed. When they
entered,they saw an elderly man
in his late 60’s and a small boy of about 12 years of age.

The man welcomed them and
offered them the much entertainment he could afford.

As they were about to leave,the
angel asked the man,”Who is this
boy?”

“He is my last born”,replied the
man.

“Oh,i love him so much. He is
smart”,The angel said.

The old man smiled at the angel’s
kind gesture.

“He is a good boy. He is really trying”,the old man said smiling.

The angel looked at the monk
and continued,”We want to go to
Agbilaka town,but we don’t know the way. Could you please help us out?”

The old man smiled again and said,”The town is not far from
here anymore. Its a trekkable
distance. Once you come out from
here,take your right. Don’t turn
right or left until you get to a
river. There,take one boat and
get across and that is the town”.

The angel pleaded with the man
to release the little boy,to show
them the way,because they were
strangers and knew nowhere.

The old man agreed.He told his
son to go with them and show
them the way.

“We are grateful,”The angel
said.”Good bye and God bless”.

The boy then escorted the angel
and the monk.When they got to
the river, the boy said to
them,”you will take a boat from
here and get across,that is the
town”.

The angel pleaded with the boy
to help them cross the river
because they are scared of
water.

The boy agreed and went into
the boat with them. Mid way into
the water,the angel held the
boy’s throat, stragled him and
threw him into the river.

On seeing what had happened,the monk shouted,”God deliver me from the hands of the devil! God deliver me from the hands of the devil!”

“Who are you calling devil?”the
angel asked furiously.”Come on
shut up your mouth and keep
going. You don’t know anything”

“You killed that innocent….”,the
monk wanted to argue further in
gripe.

“I said keep quiet!”the angel
roared at him.”keep going!”

After crossing the river,the monk
asked the angel,”Are you sure you
are an angel of God?”

“Of course I am. Keep moving”, The angel replied.

Feeling trapped,the monk moved
on and the angel followed him.

When they got to one thatched-roofed house,the angel said to
the monk,”Let’s go in there”

The monk entered and the angel
followed him.There,they met
another poor elderly man in his
early 60s.The man was overwhelmed with joy on seeing
the guests.He entertained them
with the exiguous and insipid food he had.They ate as usual (though the angel did not eat,he only pretended to be eating).

After they had eaten,they thanked the man for his kind
gesture.They stayed for a while
and then bade him good-bye.

The man saw them off.No sooner
had he(the man)gone back to his
house,than the angel said to the
monk,”please wait for me here,i am coming”.

He went back and set the poor
man’s house on fire and ran back to the monk and said,”Hurry,lets get out of this place!”

They hastened their steps. But as they were going,the angel said to the monk,”Look back”.

The monk looked back and saw a
heavy smoke going up air.

“I have set that man’s house on
fire”,the angel said to the monk.

“Which man?”asked the monk.

“The poor man we have just left
his house of course”, The angel
replied.

This monk looked up above as if
calling upon the heavens to come
and witness the attrocities that
the so called angel has been
comitting.

“Why?”the monk asked furiously.

“God told me to do so”the angel
replied.

“God told you to do evil?”the
monk asked angrily. He was bewildered.

“Who told you it’s evil?”,the angel asked in return with a smile
playing on his face.

“It is 100% evil,devilish and
wicked”the monk replied.

The angel laughed.”It’s
alright. Lets continue our journey”

The monk refused.”take me back
to the monastry. I cant continue
this journey with you. You are
evil. Take me back”, the monk cried.

The angel patted him on the back
and told him not to be afraid, that everything is fine.

“You are only a human being. You cannot the mind of God. Keep moving”

The monk moved on and they
continued on their journey.

Somewhere along the road,they saw one rich man standing near his newly bought flashy car.

The angel said to the monk,”Wait for me”.

The monk waited,while the angel approached the rich man and greeted,”Good day,sir”.

“Good day”,replied the rich man.

“I guess you are the owner of this car”, the angel said.

“Yes,I bought it newly”, the rich man replied hilariously.

“Great!”the angel exclaimed.

He shook hands with the rich man and said,”Congratulations”.

He looked inside the car and nodded his head.

“This is indeed a beautiful car”,the angel remarked.

He then dipped hand inside his pocket and brought out that golden cup he stole from the
first man and handed over to the rich man and said,”I present this golden cup to you for being able to buy this car”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate”, the rich man took the cup,entered into the car and sped off.

Meanwhile,the monk stood speechless,he couldn’t
believe his eyes

“I thought you said you are from heaven?”,he asked the angel.

“Yes I am”,replied the angel. “Is anything the matter”

“So evil deeds started from heaven? Imagine all the atrocities you have been committing…”

“Watch your tongue. I have not committed any atrocity”,the angel cautioned.

“Why did you steal that poor man’s golden cup and gave it to the man who is already rich? At
least you should have left it for him to sell and make some money for himself and for the upkeep
of his family”,the monk argued.

“Listen,never you question the authorities of God. Before God allows anything to happen,there
must be a reason”,the angel convinced him and they continued their journey.

Not more than ten poles from there,they burst out at their starting point.

“Stop here.This is the monastery,from where we
started our journey. Now,listen let me explain everything to you. You see,when those things were
happening,you thought that i was being unfair and wicked.There is a reason for everything that
happens.”

The angel started explaining
everything to the monk.

“You see that man whose golden
cup i stole,is crying now and looking for the cup everywhere.

“But he does not know that he is looking for his death. That his enemy who claimed to have reconciled with him did not actually reconcile with him. He(the enemy) has been looking for a way to kill the man,and when he couldnt find any,he put poison inside the cup and gave to him so that when he drinks with it,he would die.

“That is why God sent me to take the cup away from the innocent man before he drinks with it and
dies”

The monk was speechless. He was beginning to see reasons.

“As for the boy i killed,he is now
in heaven. His father was a
notorious criminal when he was
young, and he was training the
boy to be worse than himself. God then said to me,’Go and bring me that innocent boy
now that his heart is still pure’.

“As regards the man whose
house i set on fire, he was very
rich before. But God decided to
take the riches away from him as
a test of his faith, yet the man
remains faithful to God.

“Consequently, God asked me
to set his house on fire because
He (God) has filled under the
house with gold,and not untill
the house is destroyed,the man
will not rebuild it. Now,when he
will be rebuilding the house,he
will find the gold. And after selling it, he will be ten times richer than he was.

“Do you think i love that rich man I gave the golden cup to? I have
no love for him whatsoever;the
man is the epitome of everything
evil.He sponsors robbers and assasins,he has charms made with human beings,he seizes the lands of the poor especially widows,his workers are not paid,and other evils he commits. Today,G od said that his cup is filled up. As soon as he gets home now,he is going to drink with the cup and that means death for him.

“Can you now see that God’s
ways are different from the ways
of man?”,the angel asked the
monk.

The monk calmly nodded.”Now I have seen that there may be a reason why God created some people tall while others as short, some people rich while others poor and so on.Thank you for showing me these things”, the monk said,nodding positively.

“Now go back to your monastery
and question God’s activities no
more”, the angel finally said and
disappeared.

MORAL OF THE STORY

There is a reason for everything
that happens. God’s ways are
different from the ways of man.

-World Of Gist Facebook Page

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THE ROBBERY

During a robbery in Hong Kong, the bank robbers shouted to everyone in the bank:”Don’t move. The money belongs to the
Government. Your life belongs to you.”

Everyone in the bank laid down quietly.

This is called “Mind Changing Concept”. Changing the conventional way of thinking.

One young looking lady lay on the table provocatively, the robber shouted at her:”Please be civilised! This is a robbery and not a rape!”

This is called “Being Professional”. Focus only on what you are trained to do!

When the bank robbers returned home, the younger robber (MBA trained) told the older robber
(A first school leaving certificate holder):”Big brother, let’s count how much we got.”

The older robber rebutted and said:”You are very stupid. There is so much money and it will take us a long time to count. Tonight, the TV news will tell us how much we robbed from the bank!”

This is called “Experience”. Nowadays, experience is more important than paper qualifications!

After the robbers had left, the bank manager told the bank supervisor to call the police quickly. But the supervisor said to him:”Wait! Let us take out $10 million from the bank for ourselves and add it to the $70 million that we have previously embezzled from the bank”.

This is called “Swim with the tide”. Converting an unfavorable situation to your advantage.

The supervisor says: “It will be good if there is a robbery every month.”

This is called “Changing priority”. Personal Happiness is more important than your job.

The next day, the TV news reported that $100 million was taken from the bank. The robbers counted and counted and counted, but they could only count $20 million.

The robbers were very angry and complained:”We risked our lives and only took $20 million. The bank manager took $80 million with a snap of his fingers. It looks like it is better to be educated than to be a thief!”

This is called “Knowledge is worth as much as gold.

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A BEAUTIFUL PAIN

“The strangest happenings in life come with the most sincere intentions from familiar people, and such sincerity is what hurts us the most.”

That was the consolation I got from my friend, John, after the
astonishing reply I got from Tutu earlier that day. I had asked her “will you marry me?” in a bar somewhere on Atican beach where we decided to celebrate her birthday. The ovation was high, it was a well packaged surprise; I invited few of our friends, including a saxophonist to usher in a romantic aura, and John even went out of his way to invite Wande Coal just to make it look
extraordinary.

“Forget it, this guy is the best male vocalist in Naija.”

Tutu is also a big fan of his. The
stage was set for me to shine, and I was quite confident she was going to say yes. I sipped on
the wine I held in my left hand as the saxophonist set my heart ablaze with the melodic tune he
played.

Not quite after that, Wande Coal stepped forward; you need to see the way Tutu’s friends were screaming, “Black Diamond!”

What’s it with girls and glamour? I can’t comprehend.

Wande’s voice finally brought decorum to the room. He sang his onetime chat topper and R&B single Ololufe and concluded by walking up to Tutu and asked her as he pointed at me, “t’iku bade,
s’oma baa lo? – when death comes, will you go with him?” and then the ladies echoed, “awww”

“He’s going to propose.”

That was my cue. I approached Tutu as Wande faded from her
presence. I deep my hand into my pocket and retrieved the Tifanny diamond ring I had prepared for that moment. I hit it on my wine glass as if I was going to make a toast and declared,

“Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention for a minute?”

Silence enveloped the bar.
*****
I drove to the nearest bar on my street and sat there for hours in an attempt to drink off the pain;
but for every shot of vodka I took the agony became more evident.

My fiancée had just broken up with me. I wasn’t pained because she decided to quit, I was hurt because she didn’t give me a
reason. I have always been a victim of breakups, but Gbemi’s exit was traumatically dramatic.

Who ends a relationship without a reason?

“Maybe I am not just good enough” I muttered to myself, and then I got an unexpected response from a lady who was sitting opposite to me,

“Good enough for who, the vodka?” Before then I didn’t notice anyone was seated in front of me, and so I was surprised to hear a stranger question me.

However, the boy within me who was hurt and seeking for attention couldn’t ignore her presence.

“Maybe I wasn’t good enough for her, my ex. She broke up with me,” the alcohol aided my speech.

She simply smiled and snapped, “Your girlfriend broke up with you. So? How is that the end of the world?” I was perplexed at her response, I expected to hear a “sorry” or “why?”

“Mister, if you choose to drink away the memory, you’ll only wake up from a hangover to discover how a beautiful girl walked pass you.”

“Who are you?” my curiosity heightened

“I am Tutu.”

“I am Omotayo, and if I may ask…”

“Ask” she interrupted. Truth is if she hadn’t interrupted I wasn’t sure of what I was going to ask her. She technically afforded me few moments to think,

“Are you here alone?”

“Yes”

“Okay, I can see you are also drinking. If I am drinking to cure my pain, why are you drinking?”

“Every passing moment is but a privilege. You never know when death will come knocking, enjoy
the life you lead while it last. I am simply enjoying the moment.” She winked at me and made a toast,“to forgetting about the past and focusing on the future.” Our glasses kissed and that night became history.

That night I got her contact and we decided to hook up some other time. While we conversed, she exhibited a strong personality trait; she appeared to me like an angel with a broken wing who was helping others survive. There was
something about the words she spoke; they came with precision and definite messages.

Meeting her birthed a new me, she became my counselor and no night became dawn when we didn’t reach out to each other. Then something happened, I called Tutu’s phone on a Sunday and it was switched off. I sent her messages on the social media networks she operated, I didn’t get a reply. Things remained that way for two months, and for each day that expired all I did was stare helplessly at the last text she sent me:

I am going to bed now dear. I just want you to know that meeting you has made me a happier woman.

One day, I was on my way back from work when I saw her standing outside my door. I matched the brake impatiently and rushed out of the car leaving the door opened after I had managed to pull the handbrake.

We reached for each other
and hugged. I fell in love with her afterwards. We did everything together; she spent more nights at my place. She helped me plan my life and with her by my side I was able to exceed certain milestones. I soon learnt about the dreadful things she had gone through in life; her mother died while birthing her and her father was a soldier that lost his life to the war against the Boko Haram insurgents.

Learning about her sufferings made me love her more, hence I
decided to will my loyalty to her.
*****
“Today marks the beginning of another year for a very special woman in my life. She is someone I like to refer to as the hallmark of my existence, because she gave me a reason not to drown myself with alcohol,” I smiled and winked at her before continuing.

“Tutu, you made yourself a perfect reason for me to love again. You nurtured the boy you met in that bar into a man. Your presence in my life has made it more colourful. I cannot imagine a future without YOU. Tutu,” I knelt on both knee and asked her,“Will you marry me?”

She gazed into my eyes as I watched tears drop from hers, and as I reached for her hands, she ran outside the bar and I went after her.

“Tayo, I cannot marry you.”

“Why? What have I done wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong; I just don’t think this is right.”

The memories of the times I have been a victim flashed through my mind. I searched my mind for answers I didn’t get, “am I about to become a
victim again?”

“Tutu, do you doubt how I feel about you?”

“No Tayo. I don’t, but love isn’t about the feelings alone. It is a decision that has to be made.”

“Then decide, marry me. I have made up my mind.”

“I cannot afford to enslave you with my burden,” she replied.

I became confused and nervous; I
couldn’t comprehend what she said. I held her hands as I pulled her closer, kissed her forehead
and whispered, “No condition will change my conviction about you Tutu.”

She murmured “I love you Tayo”, pushed me away and exited the beach.
*****
My baby,

By the time you get this I will be dead. I was diagnosed of leukemia, and the few months I have to live expired yesterday. I was on chemo the two months I was away, but I missed you so much I had to return and spend the rest of my life loving you. I almost said yes to marrying you, but that would have made you a widower. I loved you till my last breathe.

Tutu.

She died two weeks after her birthday. I dropped the ring on her coffin with a note that says,“the history we shared will never fade away”. I wasn’t a victim after all.

“True love knows when to say NO.” – Olufemi Fragile

-Elsieisy’s Blog

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Poem: Definition

image

What is love?
Is it being as gentle as a dove?
And get hurt
Watching the other runt?

What is praise?
Is it lifting up dirty hands?
Making noise and shouting?
Or trying to be noticed?

What is faith?
Is it reading motivational books
On the night to a math exam?
Or dancing to music same night?

What is relationship?
Saying “I’m sorry”?
Or understanding why?
Or caring if the other exists?

What is “I love you?”
Thinking his world revolves around you?
No matter the circumstance?
Or been the reason for his smiles?

What is life?
Laughing even when there’s no joy?
Or sharing a smile
With someone who has no cause to smile?

Poem: What If?

image

What if life is a dream
And death wakes us up?

What if love is just there
To make us all get hurt?

What if our parents
Aren’t truly our parents?

What if the world
Is actually flat?

What if there were no wars?
Just our minds deceiving us

What if oxygen
Actually kills us?

What if we are aliens
From Mars?

What if death isn’t real?
We just change location and continue living

What if I don’t love you?
Just saying it to make you smile

Poem: Little Things || Happy birthday, Eny

image

Smile like that of an angel
Making every heart gel

Thanks for those times you made me smile
No matter the distance and the mile

Happy birthday, sweetheart
I wish you every good thing from my heart

If I say I love you
Would you believe it was meant for you?

This is me saying God bless you
Guild and protect you

Happy birthday, darling

Short Story: Reality calls

image

And she said yes!

I couldn’t keep it in as I strolled home, skidding stones and other discarded items. It was like i was in heaven.

With the corner of my eye i noticed people, who passed me wondering what was wring. Its their business. The joy was more than all my four years at Prestige College, a secondary school located in my state capital. I’m in SS1. i was the only one without a girlfriend in class and i have been meaning to ask Mimi out.

I finally did after Physics practical and she said yes. Feb 14th is next two weeks. I have to impress her. I heaved a sigh and kept walking, my blue shirt and black trosaurs moving with the harmattan wind.

I tottally forgot i was on the tarred road till i felt been forced into the air….

I jerked up sweating! Everyone’s eyes was on me. Wait. Where was I? Then, it dawned on me. I was in biology class when i slept off. And the teacher was a no nonsense man. I’m in soup AGAIN!

Short Story: The Good Side of Karma

image

August 1968. Owerri

Bullets were flying pass us. We are the only remaining regiment in Owerri. It was taken some months back by the Federal army and we needed it back. Our white commander believed we can get it back. And we must.

I lay down and kept picking out targets. From my position, I can see figures falling. The more I fire, the more I remain careful. I don’t have much ammunition. Just a dozen or so. I unintentionally shifted my head to the left. That very moment, a bullet flew pass and hit the soldier behind me. Private Nnamdi had just been recruited. This was his first battle. I wanted to weep but, remembering that this was war, I took a deep breath, crutching still, I carefully took his rifle and retrieved his ammunition. I really needed it.

I decided that that place wasn’t a good firing position anymore. I looked around and moved away before I will be shot. Meanwhile, the firing was somehow reducing in frequency. I can sense a tactically retreat but I remained squatting. Anything can happen.

Still not satisfied with my new position, though I had entered a trench, I got out and made my way to a rundown shack by the roadside. It now resembles a goat shed. It had been shot at, bombed and ransacked. I simply walked into the shed, with all my senses alert.

 》》ANDRIOD APP COMING SOON《《

As I came in, I felt a presence. Someone is here. I stopped, parring in the semi darkness and pointing my weapon meanly around. I was ready to shoot at anything, even a spirit.

“Please don’t shoot!”, a voice just came from nowhere, speaking in Hausa. I had lived most of my life in the North, so I understand and speak Hausa but I don’t think the owner of the voice knew this or maybe he spoke out of fear.

The owner of the voice slowly came out from behind a cupboard I haven’t seen. I faced him, with my riffle ready to send him to the other world.

The man who came out had serious tribal marks all over his face like he fought a tiger as a kid. He looked really frightened.

“Who are you?”, I asked in Hausa, still stone faced. I noticed the surprise on his face. A smile wanted to spread on my face but I quickly countered it and kept my face stone faced.

I quickly took a look around. I don’t want to be surprised by another soldier. It happens steady. Everything seems to be safe, for now I think.

“I’m Musa”, he replied, still quivering like a leaf been hit by a strong wind.

“Please. Don’t kill me. Just let me go. I won’t return. Please,” He suddenly reverted to English. I eyed him and gently brought down my riffle from his face. I heaved a sigh.

“Go.”

Before I could finish, he scurried away. That was the last I saw of him. I just forgot him and quickly found a place to hide and continued the battle.

****************************************
February 1970. Okigwe.

The war has just ended. According to them, we surrendered. We know we didn’t. I can still see the surprise on their faces. A “ragtag” army held the almighty Federal Army for thirty unshakable months. One Captain Ahmed was overheard saying that they never expected this sort of resistance.

Well, the carnage has ended. We lost. They won. And we were their captives. We are held in an old secondary school complex. I believe it must have been used by one of the numerous aid agencies which operated during the war. Some of the classrooms have no roofs but we are held in ones having locks and all. About fifteen of us occupied what amounted to our cell, an equivalent of a standard classroom. We are all dirty. Wearing tore and dirty army fatigues.

We are not given much per day. At least, since I surrendered at Uzuakoli and been brought here, along with more than fifty others. Every day, a few of us are always taken to fetch water but none have returned ever. Fear oozes around us but we still believe they are being released.

”Nna, are you with us?” a bulky voice draws me back from my daydream. I turned and faced my cellmate.

Major Chinedu, a lanky infantry officer who fought in the Umuahia Sector, looked at me with his red eyes. Now I understand why he was feared by enemies and friends alike. Tales of him eating enemy combatants have kept the airways busy for a while. Though, we know that it remains a lie, we let the tales continue, even aided it a times. Every weapon was needed to win this war. We hadn’t much with us.

I took a deep breath and shifted closer to him and said, “Ihe nke agwulam ike. I’m so tired of this situation”. He nodded in agreement.

 

“Is it only me that notices that none of our mates who went to fetch water ever returns?”, I continued, looking around searchingly. I can see interest popping up on all their faces. I had to speak in the lowest audible voice to prevent our guards from hearing us.

“I noticed it too but thought they have been released on the way,” a somewhat feminine voice replied from my immediate left. Captain Nweke, who we call Mgbeke because of his feminine appearance. He will be said to be beautiful. A long nose placed on a nicely shaped square face, with a set of dimples added as jara.

 

I just glared at him. What is this one’s brain made up of sef? Relief rice? I asked in my mind.
 
“Well, it shouldn’t bother you. I know they are okay,” he continued, shrugging.

Mgbeke, mechie onu gi! Shut up there!”

I turned to see the owner of the voice and stared down at a comical face, scares everywhere.

Major Ifeanyi is always a fearful face to behold. The almost five-foot-tall fierce soldier form Onitsha division, was almost executed with Major Ifeajunna by Gen Ojukwu but was saved by his Brigade Commander. I can’t very much remember his name now.

Captain Nweke merely stared at him and sat back and continued his usual habit of chewing his upper lip.  He always seems to think with his belly at times. I never intended this to turn into a free-for-all fight so I just shut up and just watched as the argument continued.

“How can you keep thinking like a woman? Are you even sure you are a soldier?”, Major Ifeanyi continued, seemly provoked by Captain Nweke’s comments. We are in the same situation and we should be worried about ourselves. There’s the only thing we own families, the ones that survived, that is.

Captain Nweke just ignored him and kept staring at him. The remaining members of our cell seemed not to be interested in the agreement, so they just stayed off. They seem not just to be here, only their body were present. These were men, who months ago, commanded units, killed men and protected communities from an invading army. Men that fought with nothing but won battles, if not the war.

Suddenly, our cell door was unlocked. An angry looking soldier entered, with his riffle hanging snuggly on his shoulder. Looking at him, he won’t be a day over twenty. A very young man. Well, that’s beside the point. He walked in, looked at us all and pointed at Captain Nweke and a few others, about five more. They just stood up and followed him out.  The door was looked again.

Now, this was no longer a play. I can now see the fear crawling up everyone’s face. This wasn’t what we were told. We were told by our commanding officers that we should lay down the arms and we will be given freedom by the Federal Government. Some of us were ready to take the war to a guerrilla stage and fight to the last man, woman or child but an order is an order. We had to obey.

I won’t die this way, I kept saying to myself. I must see my wife, Uju. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. We married before the war began. She was three months pregnant when I enlisted for the officer corps. I was posted to defend Nsukka but before I could get there, it had fallen to the Federal army. I hadn’t seen her in months. Her and our baby daughter. I can’t even guess her age.

Usually, in the evenings, we were allowed some free time outside our cells but with heavy security. No escape has been successful in this hellhole since I came here. I just found a shade under a tree and sat down. I must leave this place before I will be chosen to fetch water. I must see my daughter.

I saw one of our guards. He is one of the few that I have seen smile. They never laughed. Always acting like they were guarding traitors. Well, that’s their concern.

I slowly got up and took a few strides to him and said in his language, “What is going on?”

He turned and stared at me like I spoke a taboo. I would say Karma knows everyone’s address. His tribal marks are so much. Something about his face got my attention. I had seen this face somewhere but where? Questions keep running across my mind

“You can speak Hausa?” he asked, still puzzled. I knew I had got him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You shouldn’t be here”, he said, looking around and coming closer to me. He seems to have recognize me. But why? Why the sudden help

“Listen carefully. There’s a bucket behind that tree. The one by your right. Take it and go. When you get to the gate and they ask you who sent you, tell them Major Musa sent you. You will pass three gates. When you do, run for your life. It isn’t safe here,” he said a matter-of-factly to me.

I needed not a second notice. I took the bucket and did I was told. He must have been an important person because gates were swinging open with his name been mentioned. I dutifully went passed the third gate, took a last look back and walked briskly away.

As I walked away, I kept trying to remember where and when I had met my savior. I must have met him somewhere.

Then, I stopped. It is now so clear. He was that soldier I let go months ago. Karma is a bitch! Well, I should get to safety first, maybe after I see my family then I can have time to reminisce on this, I reminded myself as I kept going.

I did as I was told.

****************************************
Present day. Asaba.

It’s my daughter’s wedding. A joyful day. I couldn’t contain the happiness. The government has just given me just twenty pounds for my millions in the bank. I was a trader before I abandoned that to take up arms to defend my family.

Well, that was yesterday. I have lived to see today. Though my daughter’s suitor had been here before, I didn’t have the time, maybe because of the joy, I can’t tell why, to ask of his hometown. Today he will make that clear because he was coming with family to marry my daughter, Chinwe. She was born during the war. Now she’s a beautiful, black haired, twenty-three-year old lady. Looking more like her mother than me.

I took an early bath. I must be gitterning with nervousness. I quickly dressed up, knowing fully well that my only surviving brother, Chinedu, will soon be here to blab away. He can talk for years without wiping his mouth. Our senior brother, Nwaeze, died in Nsukka at the beginning of the war. He was a sight to behold. Tall and huge but a lot quiet because he stammers. My father told me he is his father reincarnated. My grandfather fought for the British during the Second World War. He just “returned” with a gold watch and a bicycle, a White Horse.

Dressed in my traditional regalia, I awaited my in-laws. Before long, Chinedu waltzed in, carrying his trademark stick and putting on a black trouser and a white shirt. He is not that interested in traditional attires. He simply looked at me, with as much as a nod and he took the seat nearest to me.

I took it that he wasn’t in his usual talking mood and I left him alone. Outside, the noise of women, who gathered since morning to help my wife to cook for our soon-to-be in-laws, kept increasing. It seems more have joined their ranks. They kept working like ants on an anthill.

Not long after the old clock in my parlor chimed twelve, we heard a hooting of horns of a convoy of cars.

“Dede, it seems they have arrived “, I informed my brother, who seems to have fallen asleep. I didn’t take as much as a glance at him before standing up and going outside. With the corner of my eye, I noticed he has stood up too and joined me, clearing the little trace of spittle from the corner of his mouth. A usual custom of his from childhood.

We strolled outside to meet my daughter’s soon to become new family. They are about fifteen. A few old women came with them but there was still speckle of young marriable ladies among them. Maybe my senior brother can finally fulfil his dream of marrying again. I just smiled at the thought of that. My Dede always believes he can still find love. I sighed and straightened my shirt.

Something about the man who just stepped out of the leading vehicle seem familiar. I just couldn’t place it but had to hold my questions as I escorted my soon-to-be-in-laws inside our living room. I shook hands with the men, hugged some women, as we waited for my own people to join the expiated gathering in our living room.

With the corner of my eye I could see the seemly familiar man watching me with unusually interest. Who is he? A government official sent to check if I was still unrepeated?

Rumour has it that some rebels have gone underground and the government is trying hard to fish them out and totally end the war. To most of us, the war has ended, whether the so-called “Freedom fighters” accept it or not. We have seen enough.

I couldn’t hold it any more. I walked up to him, because he sat at the other end of the room. Meanwhile, my people have started tickling in, some greeting old friends, others just lazing around and making themselves comfortable.

“Nwanne. Brother. Where have we met?”, I said in my language, stretching out a hand for a hand shake. Then, it all started coming back. Wait! Is this not? No, it can’t be!

“Musa!”

I didn’t know when I shouted and I hugged the already standing man, who couldn’t contain the excitement too. It drew the attention of everyone. We hugged tighter. How our children met never mattered anymore. Maybe after the wedding we can find out but I was overjoyed to see my savior. Maybe karma wasn’t bad after all.

DISCLAIMER
This story is copyright protected. Any resemblance in character is highly regrected. Not the intention of author. The story is fictitious but based on a true life story.

Elda Stories Blog (c) 2018

Ode to a beautiful soul | #HappyBirthdayOla

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Smile like an angel
May happiness gum you like hair gel

Always available like mobile networks
Works hard like the minister of works

I’m proud to have you
And will always adore you

May God keep you
And always bless you

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Grace to grow, excel and manifest
Never slumber as you come first

Happy Birthday, Big Sis

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Merife Olamma Emmanuella
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FICTION: MY SUICIDE

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I’d gone to bed early yesterday, smiling because I knew it was a big day ahead.
The alarm sounded at 4:00 am, and off it went, I wanted to enjoy this sleep and every bit of it.

This day would be my last.

Soon I was jogging round the neighborhood.

It’s a pleasure to die fit. Gasping for breath, I collapsed into the nearest chair, allowing it feel my weight.

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The clock ticked 6:00am, time for some fruits, I eat healthy you know. Lazily, I went about the chores and had a breakfast of oats and baked bean balls.
By noon, I had my regular afternoon tea preparing for the much awaited hour.

I stared at my favorite clothes, neatly ironed, lying on the bed. I picked up my phone, switched on my data and went online, I would uninstalled all social networks including insta, snap chat, and the likes.

I got through my Facebook notifications, read all messages, but didn’t reply any. Sent new friend requests and browsed through walls. The memes pages was hilarious, reacted Haha to those funny uploads that got me laughing. WhatsApp had a similar experience. Read through messages and groups, but didn’t reply any. Snapped some selfies, adding snap chat effects, did some editing and laughed at my puffed jaw. Reset to factory settings stared at me in the face, I made sure nothing was backed up as I emptied the content of my phone.

In my best clothes, an agbada with a matching fila, my Italian shoes, still sparkling as I bought them, I ate my last meal, wheat meal and egusi soup washed down with Johnnie walker, as I listened to my favorite music, KSA, Obey, and Fatai Rolling Dollar. I hit the dance floor, laughing at my funny moves.

It was the hour. How would I go? I wanted it to be gallant, but grand. Something more like, Popular psychiatric doctor and psychologist Dr. Saul Gyasi found dead, making the headlines. I had a German short gun with 3 bullets left from my time as a medical volunteer during the Zaire war years.

One bullet, is all that’s required, but I can’t get myself to use it, I might just forgive myself. What about using the leftover rat poison, it’s effective, No!

That would be too degrading I thought, dismissing the idea. The lagoon? It’ll be great dying brave but I’m afraid of heights and don’t want anyone saving me.

While figuring how I want to die, pictures of Mrs. Gyasi, and our daughters; Maggie and Donna appeared before me. As if in a trance I recalled how the Volvo car I allowed Mrs. Gyasi drive taxied off our lane, running into an incoming lorry.

Years after, here I am wanting to die. I pretended to be okay without my family, but today I must die.

Still pondering over my possible suicide option, someone tapped on me. I turned to my left,opening my eyes only to see my bunk mate asking if everything is okay, the others looking on from their beds.

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, realizing it was a dream, I am fine, I replied and smiled to bed, happy it wasn’t real.

Written by Jefferson Waleson

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POEM: DEAR HEART

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Dear heart, I know it feels bad
I’m sorry. my bad!!
I never knew it will be this hard
I never knew you be this sad

Dear heart
just take heart
And leap like a Hart
That wears a blue hat

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Dearest heart, I feel your hurt
in this home that looks like a hut
I tried to patch it with moot
But I keep seeing runt

My dear heart,
it smells a rat
When she doesn’t see any might
Mehn! I should stop this rant

Dear heart, just move on
You have got to live on
Love isn’t something you base on
Someone to turn on

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