Family Stories & Experiences

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...

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.

My brother's voice, sweet and soulful, always serenaded our home. It was a symphony that filled every nook and cranny, his melodic tunes dancing through the kitchen, drifting through the halls, and fluttering into every corner of our modest abode. I cherished every note, every verse that flowed effortlessly from his lips as he went about his daily chores.

I'd catch him humming while he washed the dishes or breaking into song as he took his bath, each melody a passion-filled declaration of his enduring love affair with music. His voice was his constant companion, weaving a tapestry of joy and rhythm into our everyday lives.

My brother, with dreams as vast as the horizon, yearned for the grandeur of the music world, with aspirations akin to the likes of Davy Doe, Wizkid, CK, and Rema. He poured his heart and soul into his craft, meticulously penning down verses, creating compositions that oozed with a professional polish far beyond his years. His notebooks brimmed with dreams and ambitions, each song a testament to his artistry.

I marveled at his talent, so rare and bewitching, and I often pondered if he was already a burgeoning artist. As I navigated through the world of school, his melodious tone wafted through my thoughts, a soothing reminder of his artistic ambitions.

His songs carried the yearnings of a boy on the cusp of greatness, and I, the lucky listener, was privy to every exquisite note. His vocals were a lighthouse in the desolate sea of everyday life, guiding me to moments of joy and solace. With each splendid trill, I could hear the echoes of his boundless aspirations, each verse singing of a future brimming with stardom.

My brother's voice was the heartbeat of our home, a tender reminder of the wondrous dreams that reside in the heart of a boy destined for greatness.

It was a typical day as I went to work, tackled my tasks and with all diligence, and eagerly anticipated the evening's plans with my friends. As the sun began its descent, I joined my friends at their favorite hangout spot, ready for a night of laughter and camaraderie.

Unknowingly my younger brother, Chukwudi, had found himself in an unexpected predicament earlier that day. While walking home from school, he encountered a group of troublemakers in the atmosphere of fear . Chukwudi's heart raced as they surrounded him, demanding his phone.

With a surge of adrenaline, he refused to comply, unwilling to part with his prized possession. The tension escalated as the ringleader stepped forward, his menacing demeanor sending shivers down Chukwudi's spine. However, luck seemed to be on his side as a passerby intervened, dispersing the would-be assailants before any harm could be done.

While all that was happening I and my friends reveled in the joy of each other's company, unaware of the turmoil brewing in Chukwudi's world. Laughter filled the air as they shared stories and indulged in carefree banter, cherishing the bonds that bound them together.

As the night wore on, my phone rang with an urgent message from my frantic parents, informing me of Chukwudi's unpleasant encounter. Shock and concern washed over me, quickly followed by a wave of relief as I learned of his safety. Without hesitation, I excused myself from the gathering, my thoughts consumed by the well-being of my brother.

Rushing home, i found Chukwudi shaken but unharmed. I enveloped him in a reassuring embrace, grateful for his safety and resilience in the face of danger. Together, we recounted the events of the day, finding solace in each other's presence and the unwavering support of our family.

In that condition I observed that my relationship with my brother has been strengthened and united by a newfound appreciation for each other's well-being. Though the day had taken an unexpected turn, it served as a poignant reminder of the importance of vigilance, resilience, and the enduring power of familial love.

I was outside with my grandfather receiving fresh breeze of the evening. He told me a story about an elephant and the mouse. He said the elephant and the mouse when out for a walk and they came across a river the elephant help the mouse on his back and cross the river, when they have crossed to the other side of the river the mouse said to the elephant "you see! when we were crossing the river we shook the river".

He said to me, my daughter when you walk with the elders you received strength to shook the society.

My Family went to St Kitts after sleeping in the ✈️✈️✈️ when they woke up.. my kids started saying they want to take bath and go school while in the flight not knowing its was ✈️ they are and everyone started laughing at my kids ... 😂

The closing bell rung, as day students, we will all be returning home whether in groups of twos, threes or more. I always went home in the company of my brother but we had quarrelled earlier that day and he went home immediately school dismissed.

I didn't want to walk with him so it didn't matter, I stayed back with a friend who attended our church to watch the boring football between SS2 and SS3 — a punishment I must endure since I couldn't make it through the long and lonely road home, alone.

The pathetic match finally came to an end at 4pm and we set out for home; this journey should've lasted 1½hrs but on reaching where the road bifurcated into three, he suggested a road we've never walked before.

Initially, I refused but he insisted we had no time and it'll get dark soon, left with no option, I followed him. We came across huge terrifying trees, they flanked the path like we were in a thick forest.
The pin drop silence in that area gripped me with regrettable fear for what may become of us, probably some chicken monsters will capture us for breakfast.

Out of distrust in his words, I asked him, "Sammy, do you even know where we are going to?" He simply laughed and reassured me, if we hadn't go far, I'd start running back. We reached an old shrine and at this point, I regretted leaving my brother to follow that guy. Thankfully, he had patience dealing with my fears and dragged me past the shrine — the line of Rubicon; I was already sobbing, after all who would hear me cry?

Meanwhile, at home, my Mum who had gone restless ordered an immediate search at 5.45pm for me. My brother, frustrated just waited outside the compound wondering what took me so long to return.

Alas! We emerged at a familiar stream, I rendered praises to GOD for sparing my life through that evil forest and swore never again, NEVER! I ran all the way home, it was already quarter past 6 when I arrived home.

Nneka was a young, beautiful and ambitious lady, she had big dreams for her life. She wanted to further her education, she wanted to be a professional Nurse, she wanted to travel the world. She got a good job as a single lady and was gradually following her dreams, and then love struck. She met a charming young man.. David. Nneka had already travelled a few times out of the country before she got serious with David.
David was a loving sweet gentle man, he also had ambitions and big dreams, she loved him and he loved her…. then they got married. Marriage came with different demands and new responsibilities. David asked her to resign while he concentrated on building his career so she can be there for the children and take care of the home while running a business. She was to manage the business.

David never asked if Nneka was a business person or if that was what she really wanted. Nneka on the other hand accepted this request because she wanted her husband to be happy and she wanted her home to be fine (she thought)

Fast forward to 25 years after marriage, David fell sick …it was cancer and he didn’t survive. But one thing was certain, he died fulfilled or almost fulfilled. He was in his place career wise and was getting better just before he fell sick.
Nneka today is almost 60 but she’s kinda sad. She’s always reminiscing on her early years as a young woman, thinking about her aborted dreams and what life would have been like if she had not given up on her ambitions. It’s mostly regret for her, asides that she finds consolation in her children and her grandchildren. They seem to be her major achievements, which to her, doesn’t seem satisfactory enough.
I’m sad because I see this circle repeat every day…. So this is a message to young men and young women out there…

For the ladies

Sometimes you give up your dreams and sacrifice your ambitions in the euphoria of a marriage promise, or a marriage, forgetting that the excitement is only temporary and that reality would hit again soon especially when the chips are down.

When we go into a relationship that would potentially lead to marriage, we sometimes leave out some of the most important points to consider, one of which is our individual life plans, and our potential partner’s commitment in helping us achieve our life goals.
I know when two people get married, they become one… But actually, it’s still two different individuals, with different minds, and different dreams. And of course these individual differences will still play out even when they became one.

Ladies…

Before accepting that marriage proposal, discuss your dreams and ambitions and make sure he is committed to seeing you achieve your dreams, while you also show commitment in helping him achieve his.

Don’t be forced or cajoled into buying his dreams at the expense of yours. You both can support your individual dreams

Men….

It shouldn’t always be about you. Have you asked her what her plans are? Her dreams, her ambitions… she shouldn’t join you in fulfilling your ambition while she gives up hers. Trust me she may seem happy that you are happy and she may not voice out, but she could be full of regrets and unhappiness deep down. There should be a balance because we are all humans.

But of course…

If your biggest ambition as a lady is to get married and have kids, then by all means go ahead and disregard this message.

And if your partner is happy to share homely responsibilities and shows the desired commitment to see that both of you achieve your life goals, appreciate them and be equally supportive.
I know this goes both ways, but we live in a society were men are mostly particular about their wives and girlfriends joining them to build their thing and achieve their dreams without due considerations of her personal ambition… we always say “it’s for us” but what about her, is that what she really wants?

It’s okay to support your husband, infact you should do it… but husbands, it’s equally okay and fair to support your wife and help her achieve her own dreams.

If there is good planning, you both can achieve your individual goals, though it may take a little time. But first, there must be a will to support each other, and both parties must value and see each other’s dream as important.
What has caused so much disaffection in many homes today, especially when its coming from the wife, is the frustration of seeing her dreams and ambitions go down the drain for the marriage.

Encourage and support your angry wife to pursue her lifelong ambitions and see her become the happy and bubbly woman you once knew.