Open letter to my ‘WONDERFUL’ uncles!

I have just three things to say to my wonderful fans, friends, aunties (aunty Bolu), mamas and papas that I have wronged by my very long silence; (1) I’M SORRY  (2)I’M SORRY and (3) I’M SORRY!

Life just has a way of throwing stones at you with certain events that make you weak from the knees all the way up. These past months, I’ve been angry, hurt, broken and taught. I have cried, shouted, hated and then, I have smiled. I tell you, the beauty of life is the ability to learn, unlearn and then relearn and in the process of all this, not break down. Okay, so enough of this my emotional stories, I have missed you all and once again I am sorry for the very very long silence but trust me, I’m gonna compensate you all cos I have so many aproko (gist) for you.

Now, where do I start from? Okay, so I went to an orphanage yesterday. You know, showing love at Christmas and all that, and I had the opportunity to speak with two of the teenage girls there and seriously, I was pissed with what I heard. It’s not like its new, we’ve heard it over and over again, seen it in our nollywood movies times without number and some of us have even had firsthand experiences of it, but it still doesn’t change the fact that it is very annoying and I just have to write about it. So, it’s this common story of uncles molesting young girls.

 Kinan (not real name) is a 14 year old girl from Plateau state. Her father left the house when she was 5. He left Kinan, her mum and her other 4 siblings without as much as a glance backwards. They were barely managing when suddenly, 2 years after, their mum left them too. They were left alone to take care of themselves. I was surprised at the mother the most. Not like I’m saying men can always choose to abandon their children; of course not, but to think a woman can do so too, surely beyond me.

Anyway, she was left at the mercy of the ‘wonderful’ uncle who of course appeared like the savior of the day. It didn’t take him long to start ‘jumping’ the innocent girl and then I ask, who is she to report to? This went on till she finally got the chance to meet mummy G (not real name) owner of the orphanage who took her in, cared for her and groomed her in the way of the Lord. She attempted taking the rape case to court but of course, our dear uncle denied it and without much evidence, Kinan had no case.

Kim (not real name)’s story isn’t too different. She lost mum and dad to sickness when she was young too. Started staying with our ‘infamous’ uncle and the same cycle took place again. Mummy G found her too and today she has a sweeter story to tell. Now, this brings me to the object of my anger, ‘our uncles’!

What is it with you? Why do you find it so difficult to control your insatiable libidos? What about the precious temples of those little angels is so fascinating that you just want to break through at all cost? Why on earth are you not satisfied with what you have? If you cannot control yourself why can’t you just take a cue from our other ‘wonderful’ uncles that always know the road to brothels? Get a grip man!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not advising you to stick with your wives alone, that’s solely your choice to make. I’m not even attempting to preach faithfulness to you, you must have heard that over and over again and like I said, that’s solely your business. What I’m saying is this: SHOO! From those innocent girls: SHOO! From those defenseless girls: SHOO! From those poor girls who would be traumatized for the rest of their lives: SHOO! From those girls who will find it difficult to ever free themselves of the guilt of filthiness: SHOO! Like a chicken eating our grains from our barns: SHOO!

I can scream it all day, I wouldn’t get tired. We girls have a lot to worry about for the rest of our lives. We have to worry about competing with our male counterparts in almost all spheres, worry about looking good, worry about the many errands our mums or guardians send us all day long, worry about losing our favourite boys to other girls, worry, worry, worry. So please uncles, don’t add to our many worries. Leave us and our precious temples. Let us give it and don’t force it away from us. If we are wise enough to keep it for the right man and at the right time, leave us with that choice. And if we choose to give it before that right time, still don’t take that choice away from us. We might be vulnerable and weak and you might even always have your way with us, but I tell you, there is a God up there who defends the defenseless and He is watching. Your cut is waiting for you.

Another advice: ensure you don’t give birth to a female child, cos believe it or not, what goes around comes around.

So my people, this is my candid letter to our dear uncles, get it across to them. Tell them for me please, that I said we girls have had enough, we ain’t gonna take it no more. Till next time, miss me okay? *winks*

Getting Stronger III

PUNCH LINE: so I stumbled on this quote this week and thought to share;

“Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”






A huge apology to everyone for delaying this post for this long, let’s owe it to network, busy schedule and any other thing I can blame it on. E ma binu (don’t be angry)


Okay, so, after the last post, I actually discovered that some of those girls I admired had been wearing our ‘selection’ also, unbelievable! I had no idea that ‘certain’ people visited our ‘joint’ until the confessions started rolling in just last week, haba! and you kept an innocent girl hiding from the world, na wa o.

Now, back to my story! Like I said, those hot chicks scatted with 3 of my shirts each and they kept telling of how beautiful they were. They told me they were ready to give me money anytime I was going home so I could get some for them, that’s how I became a business woman but that one is story for another day, let’s talk about ‘oga at the top’ and his reaction to the new ‘me’.

It was during the Christmas break I went home. As I was starting to feel more confident with myself, I didn’t see any need to go to his place to tell him I was around, if he called, he would know. I got home and started feeling on top of the world. Everyone noticed the change but I could not explain it to them, who would understand that it was ‘okirika’ clothes that got me excited? I was so into myself, so confident and actually started feeling beautiful while rocking my ‘favourite selection’ of clothes. You wouldn’t believe what my confidence level led me into doing, selling stock fish!

Okay, the story is, my sweet sweet mother being a retired civil servant, needed to do something to at least make some money. She decided to go into the sales of our popular ‘okporoko’ (stock fish). She would buy in bulk, tie into smaller pieces and sell. I got home and we decided to re-brand the packaging by naming it ‘Big Mama Stockfish’, sealing it and selling. I, who happened to be newly rebranded, felt bold enough to take up the challenge of selling this delicious fish (by the way, if you know okporoko, you will know how badly it stinks). I woke up that Monday morning, wore my ever available and gorgeous bend-down selects ( oh yes, I can boldly call the name now), proudly carried my Bagco bag with loads of stockfish in it, and off I went to United Bank of Africa in Ikeja to sell. I stepped in, smiled brightly, walked up to the customer care and asked to see the manager. This was how the conversation ensued:

"I want to see the manager"

“Why do you want to see him“

“Errm (okay, so I stuttered a little) I have a business proposition for him”

“Where from?”

“I’m a student of Obafemi Awolowo University and ‘we’ have a product we think you all might be interested in.”

“Hmmm, OAU, I finished from there, Great Ife! (I tell you, beyond being a school, OAU is a door opener *winks*) Can I see, since you said ‘you all’?” (the man was a little too nosy sha)

“No problem, as long as the security can allow me bring it in”

He told the security man to allow me bring in my ‘goods’ and I did. The whole bank immediately started smelling of our famous product; thank God it was almost the close of the day.

I immediately brought them out, explained how hygienic it was as it had been sealed. Further explained how it was all fish as opposed to the bones we usually found in the market. To cut the long story short, my stock fish didn’t get to the manager, the customer care officers and tellers bought them all! Now let’s not go into how much I was told to sell them and how much I eventually sold them, some of ‘them’ bankers I sold to might stumble on this blog and I might get arrested. Oh, I was supposed to be talking about ‘oga at the top’.

Okay, so I eventually got a call from a very angry ‘oga at the top’. He was so mad at me. How dare I return home and not come to ‘mark attendance’ in his house? I didn’t even call to let him know I was around, he heard from someone else. Okay, I must admit, I got kinda scared and that was why I ‘jogged’ down to his house the following day, having told my sis I was going to church or something *covering face*. I got to his house and started apologizing. I was back to the very beginning. I don’t know how he does it, but that guy has his way of always making me feel inadequate no matter how far I had gone. He said he was so angry at me and since I had decided to prove stubborn, he had given one of those hot University 'chickens' a chance in his life. Can you imagine! Has this guy forgotten I was now a university chic myself? And was he actually telling me he was cheating on me with one of ‘them’ hot chicks I was actually giving clothes to wear? Oh hell! I got so pissed, folded my arms, hissed and walked out. He kept screaming:

“Lolade (that’s my first name by the way), come back here, come back here now! If you don’t come back now, forget about me”

I turned back and surprised myself when I said:

“Good riddance to bad rubbish”

Where did I even learn the word and did I just say that to ‘oga’? I wanted to turn back and apologize, but when I saw the surprised look on his face, I was actually happy. That was the best emotion I had ever gotten from him. That guy had done a lot to me, some I cannot say on this platform. But that day, the 20th of December 2010, I gained my freedom.

As they say, the journey to freedom is ‘a journey’ indeed. That was the beginning of the journey for me.

Where I was then and where I am now, a lot has happened to challenge the core of my existence but I am glad for where I am today. The journey hasn’t ended, I’m still me, I’m still alive and I’m still here. Wait till my next post, and then you’ll understand what I’m talking about.

So, to the things I did this week, actually, the things some of my students did. Enjoy…

Getting Stronger II

Okay, so I have to officially apologize to the entire universe for using that ‘bush girl’ picture of mine, never meant to distort the gorgeous picture of me y’all have in your heads *winks*. Also, let me officially apologize to my ‘madams at the top’ who almost whipped my buttocks for jumping from my story to discussing crafts, ema binu si mi, omode lo n se mi (do not be angry at me, it’s a sign of childishness). Before I end this my epistle, let me thank everyone for the ‘plenri’ support, God bless you all.

Now, back to business! I was talking about my ‘oga at the top’. Like I said, he made me sink deeper into not believing in myself. I remember telling him one day that I wanted to write JAMB immediately after leaving Secondary school and his first words were: “you can’t pass it now, do you think it’s for kids, wait till next year.”

That’s how I went home to tell my gorgeous mother that I didn’t want to take the JAMB exam yet as I was sure I would just be wasting money. She immediately reported me to my brothers, and trust those four heavily-muscled, grammatically-inclined, high- intelligence quotient brothers of mine, they quickly sat round me reminding me that I was a full fleshed and original ALONGE and nothing was impossible for me. Well, that helped and I took the JAMB exam and guess what, I scored a whole 265 *blushing*.

Anyway, like I told you, the breakthrough came. It came in Obafemi Awolowo University! As God would have it, I got in the same year I left Secondary school to study my dream course, ‘English Language’. I remember the Saturday before school resumed, my wonderful sister had taken me down to Yaba to get some very ‘gorgeous’ cloths, if you know what I mean. I bought plenri of these cloths, took them home, washed, ‘dettoled’, dried, ironed and ta da, they were as good as new! Well, I had one new shirt too. The shirt had cost my sis a whooping sum of N2500 and she had bought it for me to wear on the day of my matriculation. Unfortunately, I resumed school and had to hide all my Yaba-bought cloths. The girls I saw were always expensively dressed and that sent me back into my shell to hide; secondary school was happening all over again. So, I started wearing the only expensive shirt I had (that was to be worn on the day of matriculation). As it was pink, it got dirty after I had worn it twice, so I had no choice than to wear one of my ‘eerrmm’… That single choice to wear one of those bend-down select tops (there, I said it!) began the change in my life.

It was a white shirt with the illusion of a belt at the waist line. I wore that shirt with sadness in my heart. The truth is, no matter how washed and dettoled those cloths were, their signature smell never actually disappeared until a very long time so I knew people were bound to know where I got them from and that alone gave me every reason to scream. I wore it reluctantly and planned to wear it just in the morning and change it as soon as my expensive breed was dry. So, I wore the shirt with one of the skirts I had gotten from ‘there’ as well. I was about stepping out when one of those expensively dressed girls I talked about came up to me and said:

“Wow! Your shirt is sooo beautiful, where did you get it? Do you have another one like it? I don’t mind buying it from you.”

I’m not exaggerating, but I couldn’t shut my mouth for about 3 minutes. I didn’t even know what to say, I just took her to my bag (a big bag I had gotten from 'there'), opened it and told her to take whatever she wanted. She was so excited, she was taking almost everything I had, and she kept screaming that I had such unique fashion sense. She immediately called two of her friends and they kept wearing and changing cloths excitedly. I just stood with my arms akimbo. I had tears in my eyes. They eventually went away with 3 tops each. I told them not to worry about payments as I had enough. You can only imagine what that day did to my self-esteem.

That day commenced the beginning of a new chapter in my life. The journey to transformation began that day, but oga at the top was still powerfully in the picture. However, you’ll have to wait to get the full gist in my next post (that’s me trying to keep you under suspense) *winks*. Okay, so time to give you small gist about the work I did over the weekend. I did some make-up practicals and a few bags for some very sweet and instantly-paying customers. Enjoy...

Getting Stronger...

Growing up in a tired face-me-I-face you apartment occupied by different characters from different parts of the nation surely gave me a good taste of the world of the ‘don’t haves’. It taught me a lot about low self esteem, those that predispose us to it and how we can handle it. There was always the feeling of inadequacy and a mere compliment from an outsider would simply send us skyrocketing to the high heavens. Back then, children who were privileged enough (not their faults anyway) to be born with gorgeous looking silver spoons in their mouths made us know how privileged we were to be spoken to by them and truly, we always felt privileged. I remember the wonderful young man who took interest in me and wanted me as his girl back then. He never stopped reminding me of how lucky I was to have attracted his attention. Being a university student at the time, he reminded me of how he had so many ‘chickens’ back in school but had chosen me who had nothing to offer him and so, I should be happy. Well, I was happy. I bragged about it to everyone who cared to listen. A university student had humbled or lowered himself enough to take a second look at me who had just left secondary school and didn’t even come from a ‘cash flowing’ home. Mehn, he exploited my naivety and weak esteem. Sent me on errands, talked me down in public and never accorded me any respect. Despite my ‘sharpness’ and stubbornness (was very stubborn by the way), I was always a mute when it came to this oga at the top. This went on for long enough and daily, I sunk deeper into a world of no esteem and seriously injured self worth. Well, the breakthrough came eventually but how it came about is not a talk for today. It’s my first write up here and you’re welcome on board. It’s about empowerment and building self esteem and the practical and tested methods to build a roof-shattering esteem. Here, we’ll see the beauty of arts and crafts and how it has helped and is still helping hundreds of people transform and build a high sense of worth. Also, we’ll be showcasing different crafts ranging from jewelry making to bead making, bag and shoe making, hat making, hair styling, tailoring and make-up artistry. Don’t worry; we also have a package to teaching certain procedures from time to time. Join me on this coooooool ride; it’s going to be educative, empowering and yes…fun all the way. By the way, we might have to gossip every now and then, you know what I mean *winks*.