Family Stories & Experiences

I remember when I was still preparing to write jamb, my parents enrolled me in a jamb class which starts by 4pm and ends by 6pm on a daily basis, excluding Sundays. Since it was not so far from home, I used to trek to the jamb and trek back home, and at times it will already be 7pm before I get home.

There is this narrow and long path my parents used to be very pissed off with, the path was known as ‘shear road’. The path was always very quiet with no houses around and you barely see people in it. My mother used to warn my siblings and I not to use that path, even in the day time, except we’re walking together with group of people. But as for the night, even if you’re walking with 50 people, my mother won’t still approve any of us to use the shear road.

Initially I used to say that she’s just stressing too much about the shear road and there might not be anything cruel related to it. She will counter by giving stories of the negative happenings she heard about the path, it will say it’s just mere stories and there is no evidence of who ever had been a victim of that lonely road. Even then, I had never for once used that path in the night, only in the day time, and with friends.

One day, I had a cartoon series, named ‘Dragon Ball Z’ that I really wanted to watch on startimes decoder, and the series was to start by 5:30pm and end by 6:30pm. I really wanted to watch that episode and wished I could skip the jamb class that day, but I couldn’t. I went for the class, and immediately it was 6pm, I packed my things and started running home to catch up with the remaining half of the already started episode. And then I came across the shear road, a very shortcut to get home faster, and without thinking I took the path. I was still running when two guys immediately stepped out of the bush and stood in front of me, it was too late for me to stop immediately and I ran into them and they felled to the ground, including me. I stood up before them, and this time, with adrenaline pumping through my veins, I ran like Flash, without looking back and with my school bag firmly held in my arms. I know I ran very fast, because my vision was blurred and the only thing I could hear was the faint shout from the two guys, “hey stop there, I will shoot you, oboy hey!”. I didn’t stop, I ran with all the strength I had till I got home.

I was so tired, sat down in front of the house and panting aggressively, checked myself to confirm if I was still intact, good thing the smart phone my parents bought for me was still in my pocket, the phone was barely a month old and I would have been dealt with if I had lost it. Whether those guys were truly with gun or not, I was home safely and vowed never to set my foot on that road. Entered the house and saw that the cartoon series I risked my life to run home and watch just ended as 6:30pm clocked, what a waste. I should have heed to my mother’s instruction about that road, good thing I’m safe and so are my properties. Till date, I have not told my parents about that incident, for the fear of being scolded for going against their orders.

Growing up,I faced a life different from what other kids faced. While growing up without a mother,I passed through a miniature of hell but my dad tried to play both roles which was not possible.

Like kids of my age, I got enroll into a school which I later discover it was not for me. I mean parents especially mothers will come pick their children while I will be picked by my dad's driver.

I really missed my mom that sometimes I starve myself and cry my eyes out but nothing happened. I accepted life the way it came and continued with my life still with the sadness of not having a mother.

A day came I became fed up and decided to confront my dad, my dad for some reasons did not want to tell me about my mom. But after much persuasion I was told my mom gave up for me to survive after I was put to birth

It broke me so hard, knowing that my mom died because of me. The love was priceless and I regret I couldn't payback.
Your mom is priceless,don't tread her for anything

There was a young lady called Emilia, from Ogun dele town, who had recently return home after her youth service graduation. She was anxious to rejoin her folks, whom she had missed beyond all doubt during her time away. In any case, as she moved toward her family home, she saw a solemn state of mind waiting in the air. The residents were crouched in little gatherings, talking in quiet tones, and their countenances were carved with distress. As she moved nearer, Emilia's heart started to race with a developing feeling of disquiet. She revived her speed, her feet conveying her towards the house with a feeling of fear. And afterward, she saw it—a burial service pennant with her folks' names and faces embellished on it. The ground underneath her feet appeared to give way, and she felt like she was suffocating in an ocean of despondency. The days that followed were a haze of tears, sympathies, and deadness. Emilia felt like she was sleepwalking through life with no reason or bearing. The aggravation of losing her folks was choking her out, and she was unable to track down the solidarity to continue. She had never felt such a significant feeling of misfortune and sadness previously. At some point, as she meandered capriciously through the town, she coincidentally found a little cabin concealed in a corner. Smoke was ascending from the chimney stack, and the smell of newly heated bread drifted through the air. Emilia's stomach snarled with cravings, and she felt attracted to the glow and solace that appeared to exude from the inside. She thumped on the entryway, and a sort of confronted stranger replied. He presented himself as Gabriel, and his delicate eyes appeared to belong to her spirit. Without a word, he guided her in, and Emilia felt a feeling of harmony wash over her. Gabriel offered her food, cover, and a listening ear, and Emilia thankfully acknowledged. Under Gabriel's direction, Emilia gradually started to revamp her life. She found an enthusiasm for baking and found comfort in the straightforward demonstration of making something lovely. As the days transformed into weeks, her heart started to mend, and her grin returned. Gabriel turned into a guide, a partner, and a companion, assisting Emilia with finding her balance once more. Also, however long the agony of her misfortune actually waited, she understood that she was, as of now, not the only one. With Gabriel close by, she started to see that life was still worth living and that occasionally, in the haziest minutes, trust can emerge out of the most surprising spots.

A neighbor of mine had a little maid she maltreated.

She was too small for the work she does.

In fact one could tell when they enter our house that the little girl was a maid.

All the hardwork in the house was done by the little girl. Why my neighbors children will be sleeping, she would wake Nneka the maid to run house chores.

This went in for years until the little maid was matured enough, she left the house to her parents.

Her madam woke her early in the mother and only allowed her to sleep late at night, this little girl respected her madam very one, and I respect her for that;. because no day pass by without her madam yelling at her.

I asked her one day while she didn't just go back to her family house, but she told me. Ayochidi. I have no where to go, if I go home where will I begin? At least my madam is making sure I go to school. Even though she is always the last to go to school from our compound. She had the brain of a major lady.

When her madam children were finally grown. They couldn't do anything at home, be it house chores or cooking. They lacked the basic skills in doing any.

Few years later Nneka came back to her madam's house. She came with a man.

She introduced the man as her husband. She met the man when she went for an occasion and she cooked the meal which was served.

Mind you, Nneka learnt how to cook from her madam. They man couldn't get enough of the meal and he asked to know who was the hand and face behind the delicious meal and Nneka was introduced to him.

The rest was history. Nneka came to thank her madam for training her well to know how to prepare the delicious meal that brought her husband to her.

While her madam thought she was maltreating and punishing her, she was rather training her to be a better person.

Her madam lived in regret for the rest of her live for not doing same to her kids who were now rather lazy.

She received the gifts Nneka brought to her.

Nneka was no longer living in the same state as her madam, but even as that after her wedding from the far state she lived she still dim it feet to come thank her madam.

Morals: The ways of God is different from man. There are different colors of life.

I celebrated my birthday yesterday, and my twin sister's. After church, we went home and I made hot tea and had it with bread.

Later, our elder brother surprised us by sending us 20,000 naira. Our dad added some money, and our younger brother also contributed 20,000 naira. We wanted to use the money to cook a special meal at home. But our dad had a different plan. He insisted that we go out and enjoy the day with him. So, we went to a bar with our parents.

At the bar, we had a delicious meal of goat meat pepper soup and rice. It was so tasty! We had a great time together as a family, laughing and sharing stories. Our dad even sang a happy birthday song for me, and everyone in the bar joined in. I felt so loved and appreciated. We also took lots of photos to capture the memories.

I'm grateful for my family's love and support. They made my birthday special and memorable. I feel blessed to have such a wonderful family who always come together to celebrate special occasions. We don't always get to spend quality time together, but yesterday was an exception. It was a day filled with joy, love, and laughter.

We had a wonderful time at the bar, laughing and chatting. I honestly can't wait to celebrate many more birthdays with them.

When I was in high school, I had a rather unique morning routine. Early in the morning, just as the world was waking up, I would venture out to hunt for snails. It seemed that in the early hours when the air was still cool, these little creatures would come out of hiding, perhaps migrating or seeking moisture, but whatever the reason, it made them easy to find.

I would spend my mornings scouring for snails, and within a week, I had amassed quite a collection. Meanwhile, my sisters and siblings would sleep peacefully, unaware of my early morning adventures. When they did wake up and find me engaged in my snail hunting, they thought I was wasting my time on something frivolous and fleeting.

It was a few days later when a neighbor paid us a visit and stumbled upon my snail "farm" – a small enclosure I had set up in a pent-up bucket. As he peered inside and saw the quantity of snails I had collected, he was impressed. To my delight, as a small child, he slipped me a 500 Naira note, which to me felt like winning a million dollars. My sisters were astonished by this unexpected validation, and they didn't hesitate to join me in my snail hunting efforts in the days that followed.

They were even more determined than me. Turning every stones and uncovering all uncovered.

You might have read many stories on the negative effects of being disobedient to instructions. But here is the story of Emeka. Emeka was known for his curious nature and adventurous spirit. His parents often gave him advice and instructions to keep him safe, but Emeka sometimes found them restrictive.

One day, Emeka's father, Papa Nnaji, called him and said, "Emeka, my son, the rainy season is upon us. Please, do not go to the river alone. The waters can be very dangerous and unpredictable."

Emeka nodded but thought to himself, "I have been to the river many times. I know what I'm doing."

A few days later, as the sky darkened with storm clouds, Emeka decided to go to the river. He wanted to catch some fish before the rain started. Ignoring his father's warning, he made his way to the riverbank.

As Emeka fished, the clouds burst open, and rain began to pour. The calm river quickly turned into a raging torrent. Emeka realized his mistake and tried to get back to the shore, but the current was too strong. He was swept downstream, struggling to keep his head above water.

Meanwhile, Papa Nnaji noticed Emeka's absence and grew worried. He gathered some villagers, and they rushed to the river. They found Emeka clinging to a rock, exhausted and scared. With great effort, they pulled him to safety.

Back at home, Emeka was shivering and soaked, but safe. His father wrapped him in a warm blanket and looked at him with a mix of relief and disappointment. "My son, I gave you that instruction to protect you. I hope you understand now why it is important to listen."

Emeka nodded, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Papa. I understand now. I should have listened to you."

From that day on, Emeka paid close attention to his parents' advice. He realized that their instructions were not meant to limit his freedom, but to ensure his safety and well-being. Emeka grew wiser, and his bond with his parents grew stronger, founded on trust and understanding.

When I was little, playing under the rain was something I yearned for but was constantly denied. My parents forbid us from stepping out into the downpour, cautioning us about the dangers of catching a cold or getting sick. At the time, I thought they were just being overly strict, prohibiting us from having the natural, carefree fun of running in the rain. I couldn't understand why they were so determined to keep us sheltered from this simple pleasure.

One day, when both of our parents were away at work, my siblings and I made a secret pact to finally experience the joy of playing under the rain. As soon as they left, we dashed outside, laughing and giddy with excitement. The sensation of raindrops drenching us was exhilarating beyond words. We frolicked, danced, dove, and even turned the rain into our own little swimming pool. It was an absolutely remarkable, unforgettable experience.

For a couple of days, we celebrated our escapade, reliving the excitement and joy of that rainy adventure. However, the euphoria soon came to an abrupt end. Suddenly, one by one, my siblings and I fell ill. Our feverish bodies and weary spirits were at war with a malicious sickness.

When we finally sought medical help, the doctor diagnosed us with an illness caused by waterborne pathogens. We were questioned about any exposure to dirty water or unsanitary conditions, and we had to confess our secret escapade under the rain. It was a difficult moment; we realized that our parents had been trying to shield us from exactly this kind of danger.

Once upon a time they lived a girl called Deborah.who lived with her parents in a village called asia village.

She's a very obedient and talented child.

One day her parents went to the farm and they never returned.

She and the villagers all wanted for two days but yet they never showed up.

So the villagers all began to search but instead they never found them.

Deborah got up angrily and then decided to go to the that particular farm where her parents do fetch firewood.

On she getting there,her eye's could not believe what she saw.

Her parents had already been devoured into pieces by an unknown creature.

To be continue ,..,

My kid bro was fragile and so innocent. I really love him way too much that i followed my mum to a hospital i detest so much. Well, right from when i was a kid i hated anything called hospital,even to take drugs or injection,it was a battle for the strongest.but thatbday was different cause of my kiddo's illness.

Am in my year 2 at the university and i had my brother last year July.
While growing up,he was very fast and strong.he started crawling when he was 3 months old.Then at 7 month i started seeing two substance☺ in his mouth then i knew that am done for.
Any single mistake he will bite you and pinch you with his little fingers.
But a day came,i was in a class when i got a call but i couldn't pick up which I later called back and i was informed that my brother was sick of a sickness known as leukemia at that moment i became heartbroken😭 and sad and those memories of his smiles,his cries even those two substance started flashing in my mind.
I had to leave for home that evening which i arrived at midnight and could not go to the hospital till the next morning.
Well the next morning i was at the hospital very early and I was informed that he was to undergo a surgery. Early tje next morning he was operated upon and placed on medications. All these while ny mum was really heartbroken that i feared for her. After everything he was discharged and was free again
This is two weeks and he recovering very fast and strong each day.
Thank God we overcame and am seeing his smiling face again.

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled in the countryside, there stood a majestic mango tree in the compound of a man named Mr. Caleb The tree had been planted by Mr. Caleb's father many years ago, and it had grown tall and strong over the years, providing shade and sweet mangoes for the family.

Mr. Caleb's children, James and John, loved to play under the mango tree. They would climb its sturdy branches and pick ripe mangoes to eat as a snack. The tree was like a beloved member of the family, always there to provide comfort and joy.

One summer, a severe storm swept through the village, causing damage to many trees and houses. The mango tree in Mr. Caleb's compound stood strong against the fierce winds, its roots firmly planted in the ground. The family watched in awe as the tree weathered the storm, its branches swaying but never breaking.

As the years passed, the mango tree continued to thrive, bearing fruit every season. Mr. Caleb would often sit under its shade, reminiscing about the days of his youth when he used to climb the same tree with his siblings. The tree had become a symbol of resilience and strength for the family, a reminder of the enduring bond between generations.

One day, Mr. Calebl fell ill and was confined to his bed. James and john were worried about their father's health and spent hours sitting under the mango tree, praying for his recovery. Miraculously, Mr. Cakeb's health began to improve, and he credited the mango tree for bringing him strength and healing.

As Mr. Caleb grew older, he passed down the responsibility of caring for the mango tree to james and john. The siblings tended to the tree with love and dedication, ensuring that it continued to flourish for generations to come.

And so, the mango tree in Mr. Caleb's compound stood as a testament to the enduring power of family, love, and nature, its branches reaching towards the sky as a symbol of hope and resilience.

I remember the days when our compound was graced by a beautiful orange tree. It stood tall and proud, bearing fruits that filled the air with a sweet citrusy fragrance. It was a sight to behold, especially when the oranges dangled like bright ornaments against the green foliage.

As the tree matured over the years, it became a magnet for the neighborhood children. Whenever my family and I were at home, we welcomed the cheerful sound of little voices as kids streamed in, asking if they could pluck a few oranges for themselves. It always brought me joy to see their faces light up with excitement as they carefully selected the ripest fruits.

However, our peace with the situation began to change when, on several occasions, we left for work and returned to find that numerous oranges had been taken and our property was in disarray. These same children, left unsupervised, would roam freely in the compound, not only plucking an excessive amount of oranges but also using everything they could get their hands on as playthings. They’d turn our carefully arranged chairs into makeshift forts, brandishing brooms as swords and turning our pots and buckets into parts of their imaginative games.

It was a stark realization for us, as we noticed that the very presence of the tree seemed to give rise to damages and intrusion. It was a bittersweet decision, but after careful consideration, we made the difficult choice to cut down the tree. It was a great disappointment for me because of the joy it brought us, but it became evident that it was necessary to address the increasing issues caused by the unauthorized access to our property and the vandalizing of our belongings.

As the sound of the chainsaw echoed through the air one fateful day, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. With each falling branch, it felt as if we were severing a tie to something beautiful. However, deep down, I knew it was for the best. The memories of the orange tree, the laughter of the children, and the scent of its blossoms would always remain in my heart, but sometimes, difficult decisions have to be made for the greater good.

During my secondary school days, our basic technology teacher introduced us to the practical aspect of electrolysis. I remember the day vividly, with the excitement and curiosity bubbling inside me as I saw the setup unfold before my eyes.

I couldn't believe it when our teacher joined and set up a simple experiment using a matchstick with zinc, salt, water, and glass. He then placed a bulb to two wires, and to my amazement, it illuminated. The room was filled with a soft, warm glow as the bulb lit up, powered by the reaction happening right in front of us.

I was in disbelief. Salt generating electricity? It seemed impossible. Intrigued, I moved closer to where our teacher had set up the experiment and looked closely. I needed to be sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I observed as the bulb continued to shine brightly from just the combination of salt, water, and zinc. It was a moment of wonder and awe.

The experience sparked a strong passion within me. The realization that something as simple as saltwater and a few basic materials could generate electricity ignited a new zeal for understanding the world of science and technology.

"Okafor, bring your chair closer let us gist na" said my grandpa in a shaking voice. As I drew my chair closer to him, we began to plunder on what discuss about after having our dinner of some delicious Eba and eguisi soup which my mum had prepared, I was already heading to bed before my grandpa saw me and sort for companionship.

For as long as I could remember, my grandpa had virtually told me all the ancient stories which I could think of. "What kind of conversation does this man want to have with me again at this time of the night" as I said to my self. But I noticed the tears dropping out seamlessly out of my grandpa's eyes, startle by this I knelt close to him as I enquire,"grandpa what is the matter, did I do something wrong?" No my son " said grandpa, I become very sad whenever I think of your late father, at that point my mind travelled pass a thousand seas and I too had a teary eyes.

It is exactly twenty (20) years ago since his son (my dad) past away. When I was exactly three years old and my sister had just been born. Obviously I didn't get to meet my dad as every normal kid had. I had very faded memories of him which he was brutally alienated.

As the story was told to us by our mother. My dad and mum had just gotten married, my dad having a stable job and my mum having a menial trade business which she managed. After one year, he lost his job and was jobless for about six months with no source of income and feeding was expenses was automatically dependant on my mother's business which wasn't doing so well because she had just had her first child (me), apparently everything was upside down for the family, all my dad did was to submit applications all day long. Also as it was told to us at some point in time my dad went into menial Bricklaying jobs after being a certified accountant.

This continued for more than two years until one day which he got himself into something which would determine his sad end. While my dad engaged in his Bricklaying activities some group of people came to their site and said they needed few men who could help them undertake a certain tasks that required strong and hefty man which my dad some one of the volunteer, they schedule a time for meeting them which my dad attended.

It was at that point that they realized that there were gold smugglers who smuggle gold across countries, realizing this many opted out as they wanted no part in such illegal activities which could bring problems for them but my dad didn't.

He came and told his wife about the job which bluntly refused and disagreed which she encouraged him to continue with the menial Bricklaying and with her business they would be able to manage for a while expecting a change.

But my dad refused, " just look at the way we are living from hand to mouth, is it suppose to be so, our first son is just two years and six months old and you are already pregnant what legacy am I expected to leave for if not money , I need money, woman I said , I need money, at least let me just a bite out of the country's national cake. At the least the bible said the silver is mine, the gold is mine sayest the Lord" said my father as he supports his claim to undertake the gold smuggling job due to the numerous benefits as he left the out and mum crying out for him to stop.

They ran the operation, mine the gold and began the smuggling which my dad was at the forefront. All activities were undertaken in Enugu state successfully but when my dad was to return to Asaba , Delta state where he resides having collected his own cut of the operation he was apprehended by military operatives in the state who were bribed by his own employers who would met him to join the operation so as to seek his elimination due to the fact that they suspected that he might pose a threat to them and might leak the operations if caught.

After being apprehended and taken to the prison where in two days time he was reported poisoned. Which made the entire family grief for years as a result of the wrong legacy which he sort to leave behind.

With my face placed on my grandpa's leg, still with a teary eyes, my grandpa said any legacy whether materially or emotionally, spiritually, physical which is built illegitimate or mundane things leads to ultimate destruction and a bad name, and with such lessons I have been able to establish a legacy built on good name and legitimately gotten wealth and also commitment to any other thing rather than anything else.

The End...

In my early years, I didn't have a good relationship with my Dad, he worked as the logistics manager of an Engineering company, so while I was missing out on the love and attention I should get from him, he was overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of my siblings and I. The normal "fact" that fathers should be the one to pay the bills and all that.

As I grow older, I started to act out at school, I became unnecessarily clingy to my male friends that some thought I had interest in them. My mum was trying to fill in that gap, she was always there, but I wasn't really bonding with her, I prefer talking to my friends than telling her things that brothered me.
I then noticed that I was becoming distant from my parents, I only speak to them about money related matters and we don't have deep conversations.
Then, we decided to move from Lagos, my Dad resigned and we came to Benin Republic, it was a lot, my dad was now at home, my mum had a shop in front of the house, so we basically had time to talk.
It felt weird to come back home and meet my dad, it was like a new norm that we needed to adapt to, slowly we began to bond and I realized that there was a lot I didn't know about him.
When I got admission and left home, I would always receive messages from him, checking up on me. I won't lie, it took me time to bond with him and we are still bonding

We disagree a lot, even till date, he studied Philosophy (first degree) and Theology (masters), so there are lots of things he does and says that I don't agree with. Infact, there were time I offended him that he threatened to disown me.

I believe there is a testament to the power of an unbreakable bond between a father and a daughter, I am his first daughter and when you meet us talking, it is as if we are siblings, we agree and disagree but we make sure not to break the bond we have tried to build.
The relationship between a father and daughter is a unique and special bond that is built on love, trust, and mutual respect. He really plays a significant role in my life, serving as a protector, and guide. Together, I hope we share a lifelong connection that is filled with laughter, and unforgettable memories.

I am proud to be My Father's Daughter

***
HUSBAND: Bia Monica, where you dey carry that custard rubber dey go?

WIFE: Toilet na... na my piss rubber

HUSBAND: (Shocked) You say wetin, Monica?

WIFE: Na my rubber wey I dey use piss na... Wetin happen?

HUSBAND: God no go gree, Monica... No be dis rubber wey I use make garri yesterday?

WIFE: You use my piss rubber make garri? How? why?

HUSBAND: (Crying) My mama been tell me say na woman go kee me...

WIFE: But you for check the rubber na, I write "PISS & SH!T RUBBER" for the body

HUSBAND: (Crying) Heii God!! No wonder the garri been dey taste sh!t sh!t

WIFE: Chai, my husband... No vex!

HUSBAND: (Still crying) Help me call our Pastor... My body dey shake!

WIFE: Sorry my husband...

HUSBAND: (Angry) Monica I say go call our Pastor! Because if I d!e, my spirit no go allow you rest o

Uncle, tell us a story.

I had a big task ahead of me the previous Saturday. My relative was getting married in a nearby town, and I was responsible for delivering the foodstuffs for the wedding. I had booked a bus driver to take me and the goods to the town.
The plan was to leave by 7am, but by 7:30am, the driver was nowhere to be found. I was getting worried and angry. I had called him several times, but he wasn't answering his phone.

At 11am, the driver finally showed up. He apologized and blamed the rain for the delay. But I was still angry because it was just light rain, not heavy enough to cause such a delay.
Despite my anger, I decided to pardon him. We loaded the foodstuffs into the bus and set off on our journey. The driver was quiet, probably knowing he had disappointed me.

Throughout the journey, I thought about how important it was to be on time. If the driver had been punctual, we would have arrived early and avoided any stress. After a few hours, we finally arrived in the town. We delivered the foodstuffs, and everything was a success. I was relieved and grateful that we made it despite the delay.

In the end, I learned that sometimes things don't go as planned, but with patience and understanding, we can still achieve our goals. And for the driver, I hope he learned the importance of being on time!

I had heard so much about Lagos, the hustle and bustle, the energy, the excitement. But I had never been there before. So, when my nephew announced his wedding would be held in Lagos, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to experience the city for myself. I convinced my family to come along, and we began to prepare for our trip.

Immediately we boarded the plane, my excitement grew. I couldn't wait to see my nephew, who had grown into a fine young man. I couldn't wait to meet his bride, who I had heard was a beautiful and kind-hearted woman. And I couldn't wait to experience all that Lagos had to offer.

When we arrived in Lagos, the heat hit us like a slap in the face. But we were determined to make the most of our trip. We checked into our hotel, freshened up, and went out to explore the city. The first thing that struck me was the traffic! Cars honking, people shouting, it was a loud place! But we laughed and joked, taking it all as part of the fun.

The next day was the wedding, and it was a beautiful ceremony. My nephew and his bride were beaming with joy, and we were all so happy to see them so happy. The food, the music, the dancing - it was all so wonderful. I even tried some Lagos-style jollof rice, which was delicious!

After the wedding, we spent a few more days exploring the city. We visited the National Museum, the Lekki Conservation Centre, and even took a trip to the famous Bar Beach. It was exhausting, but exhilarating. We laughed, we argued, we made memories that would last a lifetime.

I didn't want our trip to end but we had to go back home.
We boarded the plane fully sponsored by my nephew to return home, I turned to my family and said, "That was the trip of a lifetime!" They all nodded in agreement, excitement all over their faces.

(Scene opens with Mama Nkechi and Baba Chukwu sitting on wooden stools, sipping palm wine.)
Mama Nkechi: (sighs) Baba, have you thought about what we will do about Chinedu's education?
Baba Chukwu: (strokes his chin) Yes, it weighs heavily on my mind. Obi thrives at the university, but Chinedu seems uncertain.
(Enter Obi, bustling with energy.)
Obi: Mama, Baba! Have you decided to send Chinedu to the university?
Baba Chukwu: (nods) We are considering it, but we must ensure he is ready.
(Enter Ngozi, carrying books.)
Ngozi: Education is vital for Chinedu's future. He deserves the same opportunities as Obi and me.
Mama Nkechi: (nods) Yes, but we must tread carefully. Education is not just about books; it is about character.(Chinedu enters timidly.)
Chinedu: Mama, Baba, I want to learn, but I fear I am not as smart as Obi and Ngozi.
Mama Nkechi: (places a comforting hand on Chinedu's shoulder) You have your own strengths, my son. We will find the path that suits you best.(Enter Aunty Chioma, observing the scene.)
Aunty Chioma: (smiling) Perhaps it is time we seek guidance from the ancestors. They will show us the way.(Scene ends with the family gathered in a circle, offering prayers and seeking guidance.)

Act 2:(Scene opens with the family gathered around a fire, deep in conversation.)
Obi: Chinedu, you have the potential to excel. Do not doubt yourself.
Chinedu: (nods) I will do my best, for the sake of our family.
Ngozi: (offers support) We will help you every step of the way, Chinedu. You are not alone.
Baba Chukwu: (proudly) Our family is strong when we support each other. Chinedu, you carry our hopes for the future.
Mama Nkechi: (smiles) Let us embrace the journey ahead with courage and determination. Our ancestors guide us, and we walk the path together.
Aunty Chioma: (raises her cup) To Chinedu, may his journey be blessed with wisdom and success.(The family raises their cups in unison, symbolizing unity and support.)(Scene fades to black as they continue their discussions, united in their determination to support Chinedu's education.)(End of play.)

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled between rolling hills and lush forests, there lived a humble child named Elara. Elara was known throughout the village for her gentle nature and kind heart. Despite living in modest circumstances, she was always quick to share whatever she had with those in need.

Elara's days were spent wandering through the fields, collecting wildflowers and listening to the birds sing. She would often sit by the village pond, watching the water ripple and dreaming of faraway lands. Despite her simple surroundings, her imagination knew no bounds.

One day, while exploring the forest, Elara stumbled upon a wounded bird. Without hesitation, she tenderly scooped up the creature and nursed it back to health with care and patience. From that day on, the bird became her faithful companion, soaring through the skies beside her on her adventures.

As Elara grew older, her acts of kindness and compassion touched the hearts of everyone in the village. She helped the elderly tend to their gardens, played games with the village children, and even offered a comforting shoulder to those who were troubled.

One evening, a great storm swept through the village, leaving devastation in its wake. Homes were destroyed, crops were ruined, and many families were left homeless. But amidst the chaos, Elara emerged as a beacon of hope. With unwavering determination, she rallied the villagers together, organizing food and shelter for those in need.

Through her selfless actions, Elara taught the villagers the true meaning of community and resilience. And as the village rebuilt itself stronger than before, Elara's spirit of humility and compassion continued to shine bright, inspiring all who knew her.

In the end, it wasn't riches or fame that made Elara special, but rather her ability to see the beauty and goodness in the world, and to share that with others. And so, the humble child who once wandered the fields dreaming of adventure became a legend in her own right, leaving behind a legacy of love and kindness that would be remembered for generations to come.

I wanted to talk to my sister after a long day, so I called her this evening. We struck up a casual discussion as soon as she answered, talking about everything from our meal to the most recent developments regarding the condition of the home.

However, while we spoke, the subject of our parents' wellbeing unexpectedly came up in our chat. The thought that I'm witnessing my parents age struck me like a wave bashing on the shoreline, conveying a multitude of mixed emotions in me.

I loved the chance to connect with my sister with our mutual worry for our parents, even though I realized how depressing that was. It served as a moving reminder of how important family is and how quickly time passes. But even while we had a deep conversation, there was something that was bothering me in the background. My original intention was to ask my sister whether there was anything unique I should add to my soup recipe, but the conversation had gotten away from me.

It took me almost twenty minutes into our talk before I realized why I had called. I laughed sheepishly and apologized to my sister for taking me off course. I then hurriedly asked her what component I required.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before saying our goodbyes and agreeing to speak soon. Even though it occasionally meant straying from the main topic of our chat, I couldn't help but feel thankful for my sister and the close link we had for our family as I hung up the phone.