Missing Us

What happened to us?!

Why do we still bother?

Nothing is as it was.


Now we have nothing to talk about

We used to jabber and babble

These days it’s like we hurt our mouth

Tiny issues typically erupt in trouble.


Lo hearts; now calcified into stone

Are we trapped, or fighting for ‘us’?

Sex and passion… Long gone

Politeness used to conceal animus

Unfaithfulness is not sex alone.


Agbokim and Her Fairy

The story I am about to tell you is a true story.

Well to some extent. If you are from the enchanting land of Agbokim, or have heard tales from that land you have an unfair advantage.

Agbokim is the home of seven waterfalls. Very close to the border of Cameroon. It is a beautiful place.

You can pay for a tour. You will be regaled with a fantastic tale by the ‘curator’ as he is wont to call himself. These tales are generally too fanatic to believe depending on how much of an idiot you are.


One of these tales takes place in a natural cave to the left of the waterfalls. I am shown the thrones of deities. One male, one female. A king and his queen.

His throne has a thick jute rope on top of it. Doubled like you would a lasso.

No not you… I am not acknowledging you in any way. I am only looking to describe the rope…

Her throne has the tip of a spear driven into the rock representing her seat. Pointed end of said spear upwards.

The curator described how the king was dressed. Between you and me, I do not give two flying pieces of excrement. What is my business how the king is dressed.

The queen was dressed in beads he told me. Beads from neck down. I do not want to insult the curator, but I question his skills at describing things

Family ties…

Have you ever been in love? Fallen so hard that you are high? When your hearts beat as one? Your minds in perfect harmony?

This is a love story.

About twenty years ago, a rich and powerful man brought me into Abuja as a consultant. I was fresh. Unsullied. Sharp as a whip. I was young and handsome. Bold and beautiful. I could not wait to capture the world.

He lodged me in a four star hotel I immediately knew that he owned. He treated me like VIP. He treated me like his son.

He lodged me there for about a year. Two weeks into my stay, I had met his family except one. I met her six months later. She was seventeen years old then. Shy, dark skin and tall.

We became fast friends. She had questions about everything. And when you love someone… I had every answer she wanted.

Needless to say, we fell in love. Hard!

Have you ever met your soul mate? She was beautiful and intelligent. Inquisitive and passionate.

A few months later, I moved in to my own place in Maitama. Of course she visited every chance she could. She would escape, lie and risk my being at home by coming in unannounced. Risk because you only had to look at her to confirm her life of privilege. Of course she did not have money, what did an eighteen year old want money for? The driver’s were many, any thing she wanted, was hers for the asking. But getting a driver to bring her to my place was suicide for her and murder for me. Her father would have killed us.

But we managed somehow because he was a governor. His kids were in a mansion in Abuja, while he was at work in their state.

I was a gentleman like I told you, and women know these things. She trusted me implicitly. Till today, I have never betrayed that trust.

I taught her how to kiss… Kiss only me of course. And I am the only man she ever kissed. Or loved.

We were intimate without sex. Do you understand? I peeled the yam tuber without eating any of it. Work with me please… I am trying to be decent.

She would disrobe and show me every birth mark, scar and insecurity on every inch of her body. I would respond by kissing every “blemish” and tell her that she was beautiful.

Do you know why she did that? You see, it was taken for granted by both of us that we were going to marry. We never spoke about it, but we just knew. She wanted me to know what I was going to see for the rest of my life.

If I did not like her flaws, these revelations were my cue to retreat.

We would talk about everything for hours!

So imagine our surprise when she told me that she had missed her monthly period.

Father Lord!

She was a virgin.

I swear that she was. Hymen intact too. Trust me on this.

She had a saying, “I am yours Dan. But please marry me before we have sex. I can’t stop you from doing it. But please help me.”

And I never ever betrayed that confidence.

I knew instantly though that she was pregnant. You see, I do not fire blank bullets. I have always been virile.

I reached out to older friends who recommended all sorts of pills to abort the fetus.

Lastly I had her come over and told her that we should go see her parents.

She cried and suggested that we elope instead. She could not bear to face her family. Their upbringing was too strict. Besides she had just gotten admission into an ivy league university in the United States. I was to join her as soon as I could.

I am not a coward. I refused to run.

Finally, she suggested that we go get an abortion.

I agreed.

It was a short procedure. I held her hand all through. She was crying and praying throughout. It must have been painful. Imagine a virgin undergoing a D and C?!


I made sure she took her antibiotics daily and we remained in love.

She left the country about two weeks later and never reached out to me again.

Ever. She just blanked me. I was inconsolable.

After about six months, I ran into her mum at the Hilton. I was shocked at how the woman had depreciated. Her husband was an executive governor, he was a billionaire long before dabbling into politics for crying out loud!

I hedged for a few minutes before asking about my beloved.

Instantly tears began streaming down her cheeks and she excused herself and left me standing there like an idiot.

Luckily her mums brother was part of the entourage. He is a cool dude.

He waited until they were out of earshot before he told me that barely a week after her arrival in the United States, she had been rushed to a hospital. She had cramps and severe abdominal pains.

She had died within twenty four hours of admission. Toxic shock was the cause of death.

Complications from an abortion.

When was the last time you seduced him?

What you sow, you will reap.

When was the last time you bought him a gift?

Your heart is where your money goes.

When was the last time you said a prayer for him?

Spiritual births the physical.

When was the last time you were ‘his helper’?

You’re not his mum, we know!

Values are changing. Gender roles too. Love seems to be a luxury, and sex (from the perspective of both sexes) is seen as a commodity. Tragic.

What was taboo, is now brazen. Most wear their hearts on their sleeves. Drug use is common and is considered proof of belonging.

My point is that the world is evolving faster than you think. The system has little for you.

What you need is inside of you. And since you cannot go far alone, your partner may be all that have.

Prophet (Dr.) Abi’ Samuel

(Thank you R. O for letting me do this. May you always have parables to tell.)

I have never deceived myself. I think that that is the worst sort of deception, when you lie to yourself.

My name is Prophet (Dr.) Abi’ Samuel. I shepherd a flock of about three hundred and fifty souls in the capital city of Abuja.My ministry is called, “See His Glory International Ministry”.

I am not your regular pastor. I was not ‘called’ into the ministry, I chose the ‘call’.


Simple… It was either this or the Nigerian police. Jobs were scarce back then. I was raised by liberal catholics. I was always religious.

My decision was ordained. (trying to keep things Biblical hehehe…)

As with any entrepreneurial venture, I encountered teething problems. I was in dire need of parishioners. Unfortunately for me, they were all in other people’s churches.

I was stranded around the same time in a popular north-central state. I was passing through the state on a journey. Car problems arose and the driver practically bailed on us.

One of my fellow passengers was a middle-aged gentleman who was from that state. He was helpful but hard up. By the time he got me to a motel, it was midnight and I knew that he had nowhere to go.

Contrary to my nature, I shared my room with a total stranger. In a strange land.

He was appreciative in the morning. He told me that he was a priest. His lineage were those chosen by a river goddess to serve. They were the oracles, diviners, servants and custodians of that marine deity.

I told him that I was a struggling pastor. I was honest. It was only a business for me. But at least I would not be a menace to society.

I was actually going to preach and encourage holiness, but get rich in the process.

He nodded objectively and suggested that I visit his shrine. He said that the only way he could thank me was to help me see ‘his mother’.

There was something deep about that man. And so I went with him.

He got us to a secluded bank by a river. He had me follow him across waist-deep water into a sandy enclosure. It was like a tiny island hidden from view.

I noticed artifacts and effigies that depicted the image of the river goddess.

The place was clustered with sacrifices of fresh food and fruit.

Dead and dying livestock and premium aromatic schnapps.

He changed into a white wrapper and donned his regalia.

He had me wrap one of those white cotton wrappers about my loins and then he showed me a chest-high lake of brackish water.

His mother was waiting for me he said.

As of that point in my life, I had nothing. Fortune they say, favors the brave. And so I stepped into the rather ominous-looking pool.

I saw and heard things. The deity is real. She told me when I was going to die. She told me my entire life story. She was not wrong about anything she said to me.

She offered me power. She offered me charisma, wealth and fame.

All I had to do was to have sex with her regularly. She said that she was not jealous, but I could never tell another woman that I loved her. She said that would visit me at least once a week. Wherever I was in the world.

I was tired of poverty. Besides I had heard that most men of God got power from the devil. They were rumored to use juju to perform miracles.

I made love to the goddess.

She was pleased.

Over time I learned more about my goddess. For one thing, no woman was allowed to spend the night in any bed I was in. Even my wife. We had separate bedrooms.

Those unfortunate to have been caught in bed with me were tormented with nightmares, bloody scratch marks and sometimes suffered a supernatural beat down.

My church grew. Top government ministers started attending my services. Within a few years, I had branches all over the world.

God’s work spread through my ministry. I am on television and radio everyday. I am revered and respected. Life is good and the ministry is doing well.

Part of what the water goddess wanted was for me have sex with as many women as I could. She helped me understand that that was the best way to keep my powers. The more sex I had, the easier it was to perform the miraculous.

I heal many people. Hundreds in fact. I have raised the dead. Opened blind eyes. I really do these things. People ‘sow’ millions of Naira in appreciation for the miracles I perform.

Part of what the river goddess told me is that I would not only die old, but severely diseased and blind. This is not how I want to die.So I agreed to transition at the age of forty one years old.

I would die suddenly at the height of my ministry. I was set to go out when the ovation was loudest.

The only way to ensure that I died at that age was to pass the disease and blindness to other people by way of oral sex.

Though I lost a few years, but those are years of sickness and suffering. These women would either die early and their destinies used to propel mine upward and forward.

They usually died soon after or passed the scourge on in fractions to other sex partners. Extending their lives by a few months or years.

I like it when they give me oral sex.

I like it when they swallow.

Whoever she is…

Swallow my child…