my katsina diary

In the course of serving my father land fate took me further north of Nigeria, a semi arid state that has so much unique peculiarities.
This is my katsina service diary!
I had always wanted to be in the north of Nigeria to have a first hand experience of the people, the food and the most important of all the way of life the people.
I won't forget the weather in the later and early months of the Year.
Like every other boy from southern Nigeria the harmattan wind was excruciatingly painful most especially when it is compellingly combined with a cold bath.
It was a good welcome to this lovely state of hospitality.. The experience was one unforgettable because of the memories it leaves.
  My first days in katsina brought about the interface of relating first time with the people from the north and sharing experiences together regardless of geometry and religious baptism. I found it difficult Understanding the language of the people who basically couldn't relay back an information, culture wise their women were the most protected breeds that remains subjects of priority.
My twenty days in camp was only a tip of the ice bag of was coming in the remaining months of the service year.
To be continued!
Read More
Read More
Read More

village boy



The village

The cool breeze of the east tells that I’m really home, to my root; to my heritage: the perfect dwelling that I came from!
    These were my stories, old from home, never a fault that things turned this way, not even my imagination cheating on me; but my conscience fully awake telling the stories.
This is the home where I came from, and will say peace to my ancestors for our gods never left us, but so much peace to the great-grand father that begot my father.
Little houses surrounded me telling the wars that were fought, the story of a young aspiring champ who grew in a village.
     Every home became my house; I remember that story that transcends from generations which says ‘a child would grow to become a man’ his village would celebrate his success.
A story dwells in every home not minding who told the stories, now I do remember the moon light plays, the fight for who would wash the calabash, I would never forget my role which was to pound the ofor seeds on the Eke days, the lavishing joy when mama serves the cooked oha soup. The happiness when we eat together with father, which celebrated unity eating in our invaluable shiny steel plates.
I won’t forget the Nkwo-ukwu days when papa heads the elders meeting in the obi-ukwu, I knew I was been molded to become a great leader, the happiness when I got a sip of the palm wine from papa’s cup after every meeting.
    This became my place of hope; a dwelling citadel of peace, a place where age-grades creates a linage and kindred makes you a man.
Parents are seen as gods and holiness becomes a daily pursuit.
I won’t forget how the last nmemeh was always talked about on the way to the stream; I could remember mama adding some few words on our road to the farm.
How could I forget papa’s stories of ancestral deity, the okonko fraternity: the Ekpe! These stories made me a child of history.
The village expanded my knowledge about adultery and the general perception of fornication, people see fornication a taboo, and I realized the myth behind idolatry.

September become the month of the great harvest, the new yam festival where everyone celebrated the harvest of new yam not minding opinions of the church.
    Home of nature’s prestige, where culture is adopted from birth and issues are resolved by kings-men and corruption is confessed by nobody.
My home where ignorance becomes an unperceived illiteracy, where our Ndi-Mba are seen as aliens and are specially treated, I would never forget those foreign languages, how keen our ears were to listen.
The village where festivity is cherished and occasions are well celebrated, poverty is always accused a curse.
  Never would I forget father's  coronation as chief, the village where coronation becomes a celebration and culture becomes a legacy.
I knew I would become a king; men would grow to become kings and kings become legends.
Where the night gives fall to cool breeze and sorrows are forgotten at dawn, and respect becomes a primary encouragement in every clan and ego is a visible reproach; unity is perceived a spoken goal and yet all would fight to protect an interest.
       My home where technology is improvised and hope is never lost for new creation.

My home where fire-woods become more valuable than petrol and idolatry is always a religion. Hate is exhibited as anger and is forgotten while the anger is over. Food is eaten in every kitchen not minding who the preparer is.
Where peers grow to become uncommon people yet disputes are resolved by elders and advice is spoken by every parent.

Abortion becomes a taboo and fornication becomes a common behavior of the ancestors. A place where trees are worshiped gods and water becomes a physical spirit in festivity.
        The village where men write without pen and yet their words are read in generations to come.
Read More

unto the chosen part two

watching immorality wear us as cloth and still asking for new cloths to be bought; brethren let us not be dismay for the true king will bring an everlasting joy to the faces and lives of this 21st century man. onward together in eternity where the insanity and vanity of next leader shall be destroyed.
the twenty first century man has brought all the goodies and yet he has taken holy in his glory.
brothers our struggles were never in vain for the last power shall bring forth the coming in glory of the true son of man.with one voice gloriously shall we shout for the true GOD.
he will put away our tears and put in us the garment of truth were there shall be no war hunger pain and lamentations.glory unto the son of man and peace to the true GOD.
as we live in the last days of the twenty first century putting the filthy cloth of sin and embracing the real call of man. to be continued
Read More

jokes

how undergraduate weh no fit spell graduate go take graduate.

a daughter told her dad can i dance with you dad? the dad replied saying that was what your grand mom requested before she died. .....naija wizard

every April first witnesses high accidents of blonde girls because when the traffic reads red they think its a joke....

watching naija action film is like turning your soup pot with a tea spoon and your grandson telling you he could do better....

what happens when you marry two wives you have sex with one and your son will have a good fun with the other

my son asked me dad what happens when the earth turns 365 times faster i told him i get ma salary everyday and girls will bleed dead....

imagine tuface de run adverts for pampers who then go do advert for condoms.......naija

Joke
An eight year old boy was charge with rape of a grown woman and though the crime seemed highly improbable the state evidence was overwhelming.As a last desperate move the defense counsel came over to the witness stand pulled down the client pants and grabbed the boy tiny penis for all to see.ladies and gentlemen the lawyer cried turning toward the jury box surely you cannot believe that such a small still undeveloped organ is sexually mature.growing more agitated he went on.how could this miniature member be capable even of erection let alone the rape of a fully grown woman.WATCH IT yelped the kid.one more shake and you'll lose the case
Read More
Subscribe to: Comments (Atom)