Andy Eze @andyeze

I stood excitedly at the start line for the annual cross village marathon with my three running buddies Chidi, Naza, and vicky.

With our belts fastened, we took a deep breath, getting ready for the challenge. For the first few miles, we ran with lack of enthusiasm and determination.

As we made our way through tree shades, the sweet smell of ripe guava filled the air, making us want to stop and take a break from the race. We took a sharp left, laughing and straying off the path.

Picked some juicy guavas off the trees and savored the sweetness of their freshness. This was one of the best parts of our marathon journey.

By the time we made it to the halfway point, we were feeling the exhaustion but Vicky’s support kept us going. We were determined to finish strong and with me in the lead, we urged each other on and made it to the finish line together, hand in hand.

Till now my body hurts from the race but I will be fine soon as long as I have my friends.

The familiar hum of electricity was missing, and a sense of unease settled over me. I glanced out the window and saw that the entire neighborhood was shrouded in darkness. A total blackout. My mind raced as I wondered how long it would last and how we would manage without power.

Two days passed, and the neighborhood had transformed into a silent, eerie landscape. With everyone's phones drained of power, the need to find a charging station became urgent. A few of us banded together and set out on a mission to find a place to recharge our phones. After searching for what seemed like hours, we stumbled upon a small hotel nestled at the edge of the neighborhood. Without a second thought, we hurried inside, desperate for access to electricity.

To our surprise, the staff didn't seem to mind as we huddled around the nearest available outlet, plugging in our phones. As the battery indicators began to climb, we were greeted by a friendly waitress who seemed genuinely intrigued by our sudden appearance. The prospect of being discovered made us uneasy, and we braced ourselves for the inevitable request to leave.

However, our fears quickly vanished as the waitress inquired about our needs and how we could support the hotel. Flustered and caught off guard, we mumbled about only needing to charge our phones and leaving as soon as they were juiced up. Embarrassed by our seemingly freeloading behavior, we realized we had unfairly imposed on the hotel. Immediately, she looked at us, nodded, and assured us that it was okay.

I never quite thought it would happen, but there I was, my earpiece missing. The culprit was none other than my so-called friend, who, in a moment of carelessness, had pocketed my cherished music-listening companion. I couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal as I realized what had transpired. Music was my solace, my refuge, and now it was cruelly snatched away.

With my heart filled with a strange mix of annoyance and longing, I embarked on a quest to replace my stolen earpiece. I headed to the market, hoping to find a like-for-like replacement. What I found there, however, was not what I had expected. The once affordable earpieces were now priced at an astonishing 3,000 to 4,000 Naira, a stark contrast to the 500 to 1,000 Naira they used to be.

The shock of the price hike didn't deter me. I needed my music, and I was willing to fight for it. Music was an essential part of my daily routine. A day without music felt like a day without color, a day without energy. Walking to school, returning home, and spending solitary evenings, music was my constant companion.

In the end, I made a decision. Ignoring the steep cost, I purchased a new earpiece. As I walked away from the market clutching the small package, a sense of contentment washed over me. Sure, I might have expended my last card on this impulsive buy, and perhaps it wasn't the most prudent decision. But as I plugged in the new earpiece and lost myself in the melody of my favorite songs, all doubts vanished.

Today was one of those days, you know? Kinda lazy, with a hint of "I really don't want to do anything" vibes. After all those exam fights a few days back, it felt like I needed a break, a day to just chill before diving into another paper. So, I decided to embrace the laziness and take it easy.

I mean, even cooking felt like too much work, so I hit up my favorite place and scored three humongous wraps of okpa. Yep, comfort food, all the way. They were like cozy little bundles of joy that I devoured without any guilt. Total lazy day food, you know?

Later in the afternoon, I finally dragged myself out of the bed, and I remembered I had these ripe plantains just waiting to be fried. So, I made my way to the kitchen with that lingering "I really can't be bothered" feeling. But hey, I was determined to give myself a little treat, so I heated up the oil, chucked in the plantains, and just watched them sizzle.

But here's the plot twist: as I was standing there, giving minimal effort to this whole cooking thing, one of the plantains decided to get a little wild and, next thing you know, it's jumping out of the frying pan. And guess where it landed? Yep, right smack dab in my mouth. I mean, seriously? How lazy can a plantain be that it doesn't even want to stay in the pan?

To be frank, I ate each plantain as soon as it left left the hot oil.
It was memorable though and I thank myself for making very good use of today.

When I was in secondary school, there was an old, winding path that diverged from the main road. It was a longer route to school, but it held a special allure for me. Along this path, nestled among the lush greenery, grew a cluster of wild mango trees that bore the sweetest, most succulent fruits. I found myself drawn to this path every day, not just for the promise of a tasty snack, but for a budding business opportunity.

The wild mangoes were irresistible, and I couldn't resist plucking a few on my way to school. At first, it was just a small indulgence, something to brighten my mornings during the journey to school. However, I soon recognized the potential of these delicious fruits. I discovered that my friends at school were just as enamored by the wild mangoes as I was.

So, one day, I decided to bring a little extra to school and offer them to my friends during break time. To my delight, they were ecstatic at the opportunity to savor the juicy, wild mangoes during the school day. It didn't take long for word to spread, and soon I found myself with a small but growing clientele of classmates who eagerly awaited my arrival each day.

Before long, I realized that I was making money through this simple act. The free money was enjoyable, and at that age, I had an emerging interest in business. I noticed the thrill of offering something of value and being rewarded for it. I started to make between #200 to #500 daily; back then, the worth of the naira was appreciable, so it was a substantial amount for a student. In my small world, I was literally rich.

The daily routine became a joy for me. With each mango sold, I not only made a little extra pocket money but also found satisfaction in providing something delicious and unique to my friends. The business venture became a source of pride and fulfillment, and it sparked an entrepreneurial spirit within me.

Looking back, those moments under the wild mango trees were more than a source of income. They were the seeds of my passion for business and the satisfaction of offering something of value to others.

Today, right after our biochemistry practical class, I was hit by an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. It seemed like I hadn't taken a proper rest in what felt like ages. All I wanted was to head home, collapse into bed, and let sleep whisk me away to a much-needed slumber.

But then, amidst the fatigue and weariness, a thought struck me. I realized that my constant distractions had hindered my ability to focus on my studies. I had been giving in to the allure of social media, endless scrolling, and mindless browsing, neglecting the importance of immersing myself in the world of knowledge.

Just as this realization hit, I made a decision. I wasn't going to let today be just another day wasted in the pursuit of temporary comfort. So, I gathered the remnants of my energy and resolved to stay back in school for a little while longer.

With determination in my heart, I found a quiet corner in the library where I knew I could be undisturbed. I rearranged my bag, ensuring that all irrelevant distractions were kept at bay. It was time to take back control of my focus and channel it into something productive.

As I opened my textbook, the weight of my eyelids seemed to intensify. The exhaustion threatened to engulf me, but I pushed through, knowing that the goal of rejuvenating my study habits was more important than momentary rest.

I started reading, albeit slowly, absorbing each word as if my life depended on it. With every sentence that I comprehended, a spark of motivation ignited within me. The little portion that I covered may not have been significant in terms of quantity, but its impact on my mindset was monumental.

We go again tomorrow !

I've always been fascinated by the idea of baking. So, when I stumbled upon the recipe for chin chin, a popular West African snack, I knew I had to give it a try. The thought of creating those crispy, bite-sized delights filled me with a sense of excitement and determination.

Admittedly, it was quite a tussle getting the dough just right. I found myself vigorously beating the flour, working to mold it into the perfect texture. I added the other ingredients - a dash of nutmeg, a hint of sugar, all carefully measured to bring out that sought-after flavor.

Finally, it was time to fry. The simmering heat of the oil filled the kitchen, and I gingerly lowered the first batch of chin chin into the sizzling pot. The delightful aroma that began to waft through the air made my heart race with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see and, more importantly, taste the results of my culinary experiment.

As each piece of chin chin emerged golden and glistening from the oil, my excitement reached its peak. However, as I took the first bite of the freshly fried chin chin, to my surprise, it was softer than expected – almost doughnut-like in texture. It certainly wasn't what I had imagined, and for a moment, I worried that my effort had fallen short.

But then something magical happened. My worries vanished as the chin chin met my taste buds. The flavor was unmistakably delicious - a perfect blend of sweetness and warmth. I couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected result. Yes, the texture was different, but the taste was undeniably satisfying. It was an unexpected twist that left me feeling both perplexed and delighted.

Presenting it to others became an amusing affair. They would laugh when they first felt the surprising softness of the chin chin, expecting the usual crunch. However, their laughter turned to praise the moment they took a bite. The joy on their faces and the chorus of compliments that followed were the most rewarding parts of this little baking adventure.

In the end, my first attempt at making chin chin didn't turn out quite as expected, but it surely left an impression – a tale of perfectly imperfect, delightfully delicious, and unforgettable culinary surprise