Blessing Akpata @blessing2003

Moyoeni sat on the stone beside the road where two foot path met and look distinctively and longingly at the lonely path, just when the sun has cast its hue of delicate violet and gold upon the sky.

Each rustle sends her on her feet only to be met with disappointment.

She had been there the Previous day, the day before and ever since her husband Oyinola, whom she just got married to, left her to join the Civil war.

She will sit on that particular stone and wait, each day with a longing hope that Oyinola will walk back from the same path he took on that fateful day, he took this journey of no return.

The young women on their way to the stream every morning cast a mournful and sorrowful look at the poor young wife.

While some encouraged her, the young men who had wooed her as a young unmarried madien jeered at her and mocked her.

Every journey back home came with heart wrenching sorrow and pain that cut delicately through the fibres of her heart. Admist this, Hope bloomed like a Lotus flower inside of her and kept pushing her back to the path.

On this faithful day, filled with disappointment, she was about making her way home when the bush just ahead of her rustled and a Silhouette was seen making his way through the bush.

She paused a little as her eyes caught the deep brown eyes that drew her into them with so much depth and intensity.

The thin and deep tribal Mark a little below the chin. She stood dazed at him, while he ran steadily and engulfed her in a tight hug.

She hugged him as well with same intensity with tears streaming their eyes. They both cried profusely with excitement vibrating in their bones.

Moyeni left that path that day with a Lottery. The Lottery is her long lost lover.

Like Moyeni, Christ wait for each and everyone of us to find our path back to him.

Each single day he waits for us in that path just to find us. Unrelenting, his love searches for us and yearn for us as well.

Find him today!
#Lovethegreatestbalm
#Perdonaldevelopment

I sat under the great Mango tree as my mind traveled to an incident in my teenage hood.

The great Mango tree as it was called by many is located at the middle of our great compound. It is characterized with thick branches, which makes it a likeable habitat for bats and birds of all kinds.

Underneath it is often known for its serenity, which makes it a good place for relaxation after the tedious day work.

At night, it is unusually still with occasional screeching of bats from the tree.

A rumor circulated once, the content of which was that the great Mango tree habour witches, who meet there at the dead of the night to perform their nocturnal act.

Owiya osese is a traditional right that has been handed over from generation to generation. It is often said by the older generation as initiating young women into womanhood. Parents of these ladies cook all kinds of local dish and invite peers and people from afar and near to celebrate with them.

On this particular day, mama brought all kinds of food home for our consumption.

Being of the opinion that, e better make belle tear than make food waste, I ate till my stomach was bulging out of my clothes like a pregnant woman.

Mama warned be severally but I refused to listen as I relish on the varieties of local dishes set before us.

I knew I was in for something big when I could not sleep in the night and kept belching disgustingly.

There seem to be a turmoil/war in my tummy and I kept tossing from side to side.

It was exactly 1am and I felt the urgent need to relief myself. I scampered away from my sleeping siblings. Search frantically for a black leather for what is known as "Shot put" with a hand grabbing my behind to aid myself from spilling the solid mineral stuck in between my Anus on myself.

I opened the door quietly and dashed out. Spread the leather wide on the floor and bent almost immediately as my Anus made the "kpa kpa sound".

Relief washed over me as I finally relived my stomach of it's prison.

Just when I was in the middle of the act, I lifted up my head and beyond there was a white figure standing grotesquely under the great Mango tree. Its heights seem to increase every seconds and unfortunately it was gazing right at me.

I swallowed hard as at that moment, even the poo I was pooing deserted me. Realization dawned on me that, masquerades often parade the entire community at night during this festival.

I was trying to collect my thoughts together when the first stroke landed on me. Every sound seem to fade away as pain shot from the spot to my brain.

I dashed up and another stroke met my buttocks. I unconsciously moved my hand from the previous spot to my buttocks as I let out a loud cry.

I ran with the speed of a hind as that particular masquerade started calling out to the others.

A hand grabbed me from behind and another pinned me to the floor as they delt few strokes on me.

I stood up apprehensively and ran inside the house closing the door almost immediately.

I cried all through the night as I nursed the pain inflicted on me by the masquerades.


I made a resolution that day, never to eat more than necessary and dissolved my contract with gluttony.

I chuckled quietly as I remembered the event of that day once again.

It has been 24 years already and that event formed the earliest part of my teenage hood.