Happy Ending Stories & Experiences

Excitement and expectation filled the air as I entered the university's well-known gates. After a lengthy holiday, it was the first day of classes again, and the campus was brimming with the enthusiasm of students ready to get back to their studies.

I saw familiar faces as I made my way through the masses, but something wasn't quite right. I noticed few friends speaking cheerfully as I got closer to my section, but there was a slight shift in the atmosphere. Some of them had left to pursue fresh opportunities in other departments. I saw that scenery of my scientific community had changed as time manipulated its complex pattern.

I couldn't help but think back on the four years that had brought me to this moment, as I was approaching the end of my academic career. Like a collection of images the lectures, the late-night study sessions, the victories and setbacks all flashed before my eyes. I came to see that the road had involved not only learning but also developing oneself and being adaptive.

Over the course of the day, I struck up conversations with both known and unfamiliar people. Although there was a lot of joy and laughing in the hallways, there was also a hint of nostalgia. The hallways appeared to echo with stories of friendships made, goals pursued, and academic achievements.
I stopped to sit in a serene campus area in between classes, where I could hear students talking in the distance and the sound of falling leaves. I took out my notebook and started jotting down the pivotal points, victories, and special occasions that characterized my academic journey.

I was feeling more and more thankful for the experiences that had built me with every hour that went by. I felt a fresh sense of purpose awakened when I realized I barely had a year left. This journey had been life-changing, and what lay ahead would be the actualization of years of effort and sacrifice.

Today, I ventured into the crowd marketplace with a singular purpose in mind—to find a sleeveless cardigan that would add a touch of sophistication to my school uniform. The sun beat down mercilessly, and the air was thick with the energy of vendors and shoppers alike. Undeterred by the dust and the throngs of people, I embarked on my quest, determined to locate this elusive piece of clothing.

Shop after shop, I weaved through the maze of cloth and ware stalls, inquiring about the sleeveless cardigan. Each time, my hopes were dashed as the shopkeepers shook their heads and apologetically informed me that they didn't carry such an item. Frustration began to seep in as I could not find what I was looking for. The thought had initially seemed like a minor task, yet here I was, embroiled in a fruitless pursuit through the labyrinth of the marketplace.

As the midday sun reached its zenith and my spirits began to flag, I reluctantly conceded defeat and prepared to make my way back home. However, a glimmer of optimism emerged as I recalled that a friend lived in the vicinity of the marketplace. With a sense of serendipity, I made my way to his home, intending to offer a brief hello and perhaps seek solace in familiar company.

My friend's warm welcome and the coalescence of his hospitality injected a dash of brightness into what had thus far been a disheartening day. He ushered me into his home and, to my surprise and delight, offered me a refreshing array of juices and the finest baked flour. The disappointment and fatigue that had weighed on my shoulders slowly melted away in the company of a true friend and the joy of spontaneous camaraderie.

As we sat together, sharing laughter and conversation, the woes of my failed shopping excursion faded into the background, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment. The initial frustration of not finding the cardigan receded, eclipsed by the simple pleasure of reconnecting with a friend and reveling in the gracious hospitality extended to me.

Today, I had absolutely no motivation to step outside. The thought of going out just seemed like a herculean task, and so I decided to spend my day indoors. I ended up lounging on the sofa, watching endless videos, and immersing myself in my favorite video games.

As the day wore on, I became completely oblivious to the passage of time. I was so engrossed in the entertainment that the hours slipped by unnoticed. Before I knew it, it was already 10 pm, and I was astonished at how the day had flown by without me even realizing it.

It felt strange to have spent the entire day cooped up inside, without any real human interaction and without the typical distractions of the outside world. However, there was something strangely satisfying about allowing myself to be lazy and enjoy uninterrupted relaxation. The peace and quiet of the day were a welcome change from the usual hustle and bustle, and I found joy in being able to unwind without any external demands or disturbances.

As the day came to an end, I couldn't help but acknowledge how peculiar it was to spend the entire day indoors, yet at the same time, how delightful it had been. It was a comforting and serene experience, and I appreciated the tranquility and solace that came with it. Although it was unusual, there was a certain sweetness in indulging in an entire day of laziness and solitude, something that I hadn't allowed myself to do for a long time.

"I don't recognize these routes", I repeated to myself as the driver swerved right again to an unknown path.
I was sure I enquired that the bus was to make a final stop at a precise car park, but the bus driver didn't seem to recognize this.
He took wrong lanes, encountering numerous go-slow and making unnecessary rants at those who questioned his navigation.

We finally found ourselves at a car park and we were a bit excited that the journey was to end at last. Unbeknownst to us it Was the wrong path, It was after some minutes that I noticed some of the passengers after we all alighted, start to lament.

There was no problem being at the wrong park, I thought. It was all about boarding a tricycle that could transport me to my lodge at the usual amount.
I thought it problems had ended when one of the tricycle drivers took my bags from me and helped me convey them to where his ride was parked.

After bargaining the price which was literally worth millions to me, I entered and we drove off.
As he drove, he promised to make the drive worth it without delay.
I took these words as mere boisterous remarks which would yield to nothing but to my surprise, this very driver drifted through go-slows like a wind.

He took shortcuts and in no time I recognized how close we were to my lodge. Though I was still worried on how I was going to deep my hands deep into my purse and produce the amount he charged.

Finally I arrived my destination safely, and he jumped off to help me with the bags to my doorstep, he was a jovial young man.

Thank God for safe journey.

There was a lost dog named Davis. He seemed sad and confused after getting separated from his owner. Luckily, a kind person named Femi noticed him and brought him home.

Davis found a new family with Femi. They became the best of pals, and Davis forgot about feeling lonely. Femi took Davis on walks through the meadows, played fetch in the backyard, and even taught him a few tricks. Davis thrived under Femi's care.

One sunny day, a girl named Juliet, with a picture of Davis, knocked on Femi's door. She had been searching for her lost dog. When Juliet saw Davis, her eyes lit up with joy, and she exclaimed, "Davis, you found your way back!" The reunion was heartwarming, and Femi couldn't help but smile at the happiness radiating from the pair.

As Juliet spent time with Davis, she and Femi shared stories about their experiences with the lovable dog. They decided to have a small celebration, complete with dog treats and laughter, commemorating the newfound friendship forged through their shared love for Davis.

Despite the bittersweet moment of saying goodbye, Femi knew Davis belonged with Juliet. The trio shared a final walk together, creating lasting memories before Davis officially went back home with Juliet. Femi waved them off, grateful for the unexpected joy Davis had brought into their lives.

I bumped into Rose, my best friend from secondary school, on a busy street after three years. It was a total surprise! Luckily, I had some time, so we decided to grab a bite at a nearby eatery. While we ate, we chatted about life, school memories, and caught up on everything that happened since graduation. It felt like we hadn't missed a beat.

Sitting in that cozy corner, plates of food in front of us, we talked about the ups and downs of post-grad life. The place became an atmosphere for reconnecting, and our laughter filled the air. It was like we were back in secondary school, sharing stories and dreams. The joy of seeing an old friend made the whole day special.

A lot had changed about her and she made same comments about me. The once rough and stubborn Rose had become gentle as a dove, carrying herself with every sense of decency — maybe she finally learnt the right way to embrace womanhood. I remembered she loved acting like a musician back in school, "How many albums so far?" I chipped in-between crunches of food hoping she would get the joke, she paused and bursted into laughter, "I'm studying law now, I don't want to be a DJ anymore please." We couldn't help but continue to fill the air with laughter with every hilarious memory we could remember until there was no strength left for laughing.

As we finished our meal, we exchanged numbers, promising not to let so much time pass before talking again. With a warm hug and a wave goodbye, we headed our separate ways. Watching Rose disappear into the crowd, I felt grateful for the unexpected reunion. Life is funny that way, bringing people back into your world when you least expect it.

Tartenger clutched the worn acceptance letter, the paper crinkling under his sweaty palm. Finally, his bachelor's degree in Engineering awaited, just beyond the registrar's counter. But between him and that coveted parchment stood a wall of debt: unpaid tuition fees, a grim mountain grown over three years of struggle.

He'd juggled menial jobs, nights bleeding into bleary mornings, sleep a luxury traded for textbooks. Each cobbled naira felt like a chip at the granite edifice of his debt. Dates turned into coffee dates, friendships frayed around the edges of borrowed textbooks. Every laugh felt tinged with guilt, every triumph haunted by the phantom figure of his due.

Today, though, hope burned brighter than exhaustion. He'd scraped together the final chunk, a crumpled wad of bills held together by desperate prayer. Crossing the threshold into the bank on campus, he was met by the registrar's bored gaze. Tartenger laid down the money, watching the stack disappear with a bureaucratic sigh.

"Clearance received," the registrar droned at back at the academic complex, handing him a slim folder.

Fingers trembling, Tartenger unfolded the document. There, in stark black and white, was his name, his degree, and a bittersweet freedom. Relief, like a dam breaking, washed over him. He left the registrar's office a lighter man, the weight of debt replaced by the promise of a new beginning. The paper rustled in his hand, a testament not just to academic achievement, but to a debt paid, a ransom settled, and a graduate finally set free.

In God I trust!

Today, I decided to brave the chaotic market in search of a new power bank. The one I had been nursing along had finally given up the ghost a few days back, leaving me in the lurch when I needed it most.

Pushing my way through the dusty, bustling crowds, I finally made my way to my favorite vendor's stall. To my dismay, as expected, the price of power banks had doubled since my last visit. With a heavy heart, I shelled out the extra cash and headed home with my new purchase.

I had it charging all afternoon and was almost relieved when the power went out as dusk fell. While my siblings' phones blinked out one by one, I connected my phone to the newly charged power bank, and now, to my delight, I am beaming in smiles because my phone is charging, and I can continue using it as if nothing has changed amidst the darkness.

EPISODE SIX


Rita was now 27 years old and I propose marriage to her and she accepted and her parent were really happy for they have been expecting this for a long time now. Mr. Ogah wanted my parent available for the marriage so, I took Rita with Edward and headed for Abuja.

10 years had passed since I saw my mum or even came to that area. But, I was able to locate the house but things were not as good as they used to be 10 years ago. Mr. Olaniyi had serious stroke and for five years now, his left side had been useless. The family was practically living off Nike who was now happily married with children. She was the only one who did not believe that I impregnated Vera and was so furious when she learnt what her father had done.

There was joy and sorrow at the same time on my mother’s heart as she narrated to me how Vera came to clear my name. Vera gave birth to a baby girl who fell ill two weeks later and needed blood transfusion which can only be given by the father or the baby will die and so Vera had to plead for blood transfusion from the real father of the child, her sister’s husband; the man we all thought was Vera’s father. And so the whole truth came out, Vera was impregnated by her sister’s husband and this made her sister really angry that she killed the man and was arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment. Vera was then left alone with her sister’s children and hers so, she came to my mum and told her the truth before leaving for the village. My mum also told me how my real father now called Moses, came to her to plead for forgiveness for what he did years back and wanted to see me but there was no hope of seeing me as no one knows where I was or what had happened to me. She forgave him even Mr. Olaniyi also forgave him and they promised him to call him whenever I showed up. I also narrated to them all that happened to me, how Mr. Ogah became my father and took good care of me up to the level I was and now I want to marry his daughter. Two months later, Mr. Olaniyi recovered from his ailment.

A year passed, Rita and I got married. Our wedding was a remarkable one and never to be forgotten. Lots of friends and well-wishers were present and most of all I had three fathers on that day, Mr. Ogah, Mr. Olaniyi and Mr. Moses.

The End!!!!!!!!!

I will post a quiz on this story tomorrow.....
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Uncle Mike sent words to my mother while I was at the playstation gaming center that I have been admitted into the University of Calabar.

I could feel joy hugging her as she beamed with smiles walking up to me with her arms spread wide like the wings of an airplane and her steps like that of the river goddess, I opened my arms to receive the warmth of her embrace, when we were this close, she fell to her epileptic crisis.

In her room, when she has regained herself, she smiled at the ten heads surrounding her – her ten children.

Myself being the last of them all and the only son, sat close to her, holding her hands very close to my heart in pain . She coughed and tried to sit up and my eldest sister and myself who were closest to her helped her sit up. She reminded us of how our father had always wished for a baby boy that he kept on trying every year, eating lots of banana and consuming so much dates and burukutu as it was rumoured amongst his age grade that it makes the semen thicker, after which he was to meet my mum at the first crow of the cock during her ovulation.

This made my sisters a year older than themselves and when mama finally gave birth to me, he was so happy. He shed his first tears in years after he lost his only brother, this time, it was the tears of joy.

This story I’ve heard countless times on my birthdays that it seemed like a rhyme to me and now mama is repeating it even when it wasn’t my birthday. She became epileptic after papa died when I was two. It was said that papa was killed with “otumokpo” by his childhood friend who happened to court mama but left for the city without a word for mama or her family only to return years after to find mama with ten children for papa. They further said that “eka abasi” (mother earth) had to punish mama by making her epileptic after papa’s death and burial.

I find these to be superstitious and I was determined to put in my best to learn a lot and change the unfair and unjust beliefs in my bush village that is situated close to the Cameroon border, faraway from where lights show up and cars blared horns and release fumes of carbon. It is a place considered as the educationally less developed place and my average score of 260 granted me admission into a school I admired just because of the way our village community school principal spoke about it because it was his alma mater.

Mama admonished us and asked we be like the head of a broom stick that cannot be divided from itself while trying to break it all at once. She said it signified unity. She embraced us one after the other and asked me to sleep beside her.

My elder sisters moved back to their various husbands’ house in the cool of the evening, leaving me with mama and the remaining four of my elder sisters that were unmarried, though Imaobong my immediate senior has a child out of wedlock for Asuqwo. He denied it at first and escaped by night after the child was born because everyone said the child was his replica. “There is no big ear and bulgy eyes in your father’s lineage or mine” mama said while affirming that the Child belongs to “eka abasi, (mother earth). They called my little nephew Ekemini to mean at the right time.

I arrived at Etta-Agbor, just in front of the University of Calabar big gate and beamed with those smiles that said “I have arrived”. The place was littered with hawkers of different wares, people and cars moving in and out of the gate randomly, beggars at one side of the entrance using their ailments – most of which I’ve never imagined existed – as a means to ask for money and saying God bless you more than often. So many billboards littered on the streets with different advert placements and some students taking pictures at the big lantern scene that serves as a roundabout for the junction.

I got into the gate and boarded the school shuttle that is headed to, the male hostel, as directed by Okon, my mother’s aunt’s grandson who happens to be a student here also. I was to stay with him while I got my own hostel space. I called Okon with the Nokia torch phone that was given me by my first in-law as a parting gift to keep in touch with the family. I so much appreciated the phone not minding the green rubber band tied severally behind it to hold the back from falling off. At the moment, it was my most prized possession.

I arrived in Malabor and Okon came to pick me up. I haven’t seen him before, I knew him by the description on the phone – a blue shirt with a write-up behind and a black khaki with little designers on it. “You’re Gershom right? Welcome to Unical and here is Malabor”. He shook me and helped me carry my bag to his room. There was something about him I couldn’t say, his neatly grown beards, his cornrows that looked like the well dug ridges in Ekpri-Ekpe farm, his cologne made me breathe in twice and the way he walked high spirited made me think of models.

I noticed the way he greeted people as we walked down to his room and the way guys in the walkway said “malabite welcome o, I dey come collect welcome otomycin (garri) for your room”. Later I was made to know that otomycin is a name for raw garri – the richest food in the campus.

We got to his room, it was sparsely arranged which was a first indication that the boys don’t cook. He introduced me to his roommates – five able bodied guys – and one of them came out from the wardrobe holding a brown paper rolled with stuff inside which emits smoke from the red end.

His eyes were red, his hair had patches that looked like thorns and he looked fiery. He said “ma man welcome to the cartel, if anyone wan kpi you, tell am say you dey room 135, say Tupac na your brother. Here na jungle o, on how you razz you go collect but no razz, meanwhile be careful. Welcome again”. I said thank you, with a mixture of fear and happiness.

Something about them said they were cultists but Okon looks responsible – except for his cornrows which he said he did because of the just concluded MTN show of which he performed – and is a medical student; from what I heard, medical students don’t even have time for themselves not to talk of being cultists but what do I know, I’m just a fresher. That night, Okon said he was going to need a library to read his book in preparation for his MB (an exam written by 300 level medical students) which is coming up in a fortnight. I said I’d join him because I was afraid I might get choked up from the smoke of brown paper that wafts in the air in room 135. I picked up a novel I had come with, “how to survive in a jungle”, my electric lantern and an umbrella because it was drizzling.

Okon was so loving and treated me like an elder brother would to his newly admitted Junior brother. He got me meat pies and malt from a shop with the billboard hung above the entrance boldly written “De-choice, '' which I testified to his assertion that it would be the best I have tasted”. He asked us to pick up his friend from Hall 3 – the female hostel – according to him, she is his study mate. I wondered how a beautiful girl in Theater and Media, Film and Carnival Studies will be a study mate to a College student but like I earlier said, what do I know? I’m just a fresher.

Eyoawan was so welcoming and hospitable, she hung her hand around my neck as we trekked down to pavilion 1, parked cars apparently waiting for someone and boys and girls in their pairs in dark and hidden places, sitting or standing like lovers. Okon and her discussed things I didn’t hear and laughed out loud at intervals, there’s something about these two I said to myself and deep down, I wished I was the one making Eyoawan smile. We got to pavilion 1 and it was densely populated by medical students, majority were Okon’s course mates because he had this rapport with them. I sat with Eyoawan and she asked me some questions about myself and how I’m finding Unical to be.

Not too long, there was a gunshot by masked guys who ran out after aiming their target. Everyone took the hills through the scene including myself and Eyoawan. The Surveillance arrived at the scene with their hilux van with siren like the Mobile Police. They had rifles with them, they went to the scene and found a student that had been hit, he was shot dead on the spot. Eyoawan took me to my hostel in Okon’s absence. His roommates weren’t around so I was all alone. I couldn’t sleep that night, I was so scared but sleep still had it’s way in the early hours of the morning.

I woke up and there was still no one in the room but I heard noises outside. I got up wearing the clothes I arrived with as I had slept with them without bathing or changing. Everyone surrounded a scene and it was Okon lying dead with his mouth ajar and eyes widely opened. It’s true he was a cultist but a harmless one who helped people recover their stolen phones free of charge and was the very social one. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he died when my Unical dreams just began.

Wake up the bus is leaving soon” mama tapped me. We slept at the park so as to meet up with the early morning bus down to Calabar. She prayed for me, and gave me a bangle to always wear for protection. My nine sisters came with me alongside my uncle. As the bus left, they waved me goodbye and I was in tears, suddenly missing them as I began my journey to my unical dreams.

EPISODE FIVE

By September, we were all used to our new locality. Rita was finding it difficult to cope with Mathematics especially having changed her school, so, I began putting her through. I became more like a coach to her. The children were so used to me that they began seeing me as their brother. November, I asked Mr. Ogah to stop paying me as a house help for I still feed and live in their house. He agreed even his wife to.

At the dawn of a new year 2003, Mr. and Mrs. Ogah decided that I should register for WAEC, but I would need all the necessary Certificates, declaration of age, state of origin, first school leaving certificate, etc. They promised to work them out for me so I could register for WAEC. So, while acquiring all these Certificates I was also preparing for WAEC together with Rita. I began bearing James Gbenga (Gbenga was my middle name). Rita and I wrote WAEC examination that year and had a very wonderful results especially Rita.

We started preparing for UME against 2004. Rita wanted to study accounting and become an Accountant while I wanted to study mathematics education and become a Teacher. Things moved from glory to glory for the Ogahs. God’s favour was upon them and upon me too. I realised that they were the helping hands for me. Rita and I got admission into the University in 2004 which made Mr. Ogah very happy and he tasked me on keeping his daughter safe. Rita and I became really bounded and in school, we were always seen together. Soon, it was Peter’s turn, he wanted to become an Engineer. He also got admission in the University and came to join us. Rita and I graduated with first class which brought delight to Mr. Ogah. Luckily, we were both posted to Ondo state for our service. We were together again. After our service, we got job offers but decided to go back to Niger State. We got very lucrative jobs and I began to settle down on my own. With the help of Mr. Ogah, I was able to build my own house and for my 30th birthday, he bought a car for me.

to be continued......
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"After the last episode tomorrow, I will do a quiz on the story on Friday!!!"

The night had been sultry, the air still and muggy, and I had finally managed to drift off into a slight, dreamless sleep. But just as the tendrils of slumber sought to envelop me, the sound, the incessant, high-pitched whine of mosquitoes, rudely shattered the quiet of the night. It felt as though the tiny winged pests were mocking me, knowing it was their annoying buzz that kept me from the rest I so desperately craved.

My room was shrouded in darkness, broken only by the gentle glow of a small nightlight. I could hear the faint rustle of leaves outside, carried by a soft, warm breeze that offered little solace on this stifling summer night. The mosquitoes, however, were relentless, their whining growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment. I slung an arm over my eyes, hoping to drown out the sound and will myself back to sleep, but it was no use. The persistent buzzing danced in my ears, a maddening chorus that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Finally giving up on the prospect of sleep, I sat up and fumbled for the bedside lamp. As its soft light illuminated the room, I caught a glint of movement out of the corner of my eye - a lone mosquito, darting through the air with purposeful determination. I swatted at it with a vengeance, but it eluded my grasp, disappearing into the darkness once more. The frustration began to gnaw at me, and I knew that sleep would not be visiting me again tonight.

I rose from my bed and padded to the window, drawing back the curtain to let in some fresh air. The night was still and heavy, the sky a blanket of velvety darkness studded with stars. I leaned against the windowsill, my mind drifting as I gazed out into the night. And then, as though on cue, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning.

It was pure luck that the sound of those mosquitoes had roused me from my sleep, for in that moment, inspiration had seized me. I reached for a notepad and pen and began to write, allowing the words to flow from my mind to the page. As I scribbled furiously, the story began to take shape, weaving together the restless night, the maddening mosquitoes, and the unbidden inspiration that had blossomed from the chaos.

EPISODE FOUR

At age 19, I had to start thinking of how to survive on my own. In tears I fell asleep under a mango tree. I had a dream, I saw a building very beautiful well furnished. It was demolished right in front of me and I was asked to rebuild it to a better structure with better furniture and house hold equipment in it. I wasn’t giving any tool to work with just a shovel. So, I started digging and as I dug, more hands appeared and helped me digging. Then I woke up. I knew that was God answering me.

When morning came, I left the city and walked to the next city and the next looking around for a job vacancy. I saw one which read “house help needed”. I went in to the house immediately, I met the mother of the house at home who interviewed me. I narrated my story to her though reluctant to give me the job, she asked me to wait for her husband to be back from work. So I stayed their till evening when her husband returned. He agreed that I should be given the job after all I could do all the house chores and cook. It was a family of six, four children with the father and mother. My life took another new turn as I became bounded to Mr. and Mrs. Ogah and family.
Two weeks passed by the Ogahs were happy with me. We moved along like a family. Mr. Ogah was transferred to Niger State, so we all had to move to Niger State. Getting transfer for his children was not a big problem as they were on holiday and were to enter a new class by September. Rita the first child, was 16 years and was going to S.S. 3, Peter, 13 years old, was going to J.S 3, Edward, 10 years old, was going to J.S.1 and Victor, 8 years old, was going to primary 4. I went with them to Niger State and I was really becoming a full member of the family.

to be continued......
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EPISODE THREE

A period of joy changed dramatically to a period of sorrows and pains for me. I returned from an errand my mum sent me and when I stepped inside the house, I could sense that something was really wrong. There was Vera, her parent and 3 of her friends sitting down in our parlour. When I stepped in, I was asked to sit down, my mum asked if I knew Vera, I replied in the affirmative. I was asked how close we were, “just friends” I replied. Vera’s dad then asked if I knew that Vera was pregnant, I said no. But looking at their faces, I knew they did not believe me. Vera that I had not seen for two weeks was three weeks pregnant and she is accusing me of being responsible for it. I was very much surprised mostly at my mum for believing Vera, for I was very close to her more than my dad and I used to let her in on my secrets. I was questioning Vera for lying on me and my parent for believing her. My parent and I got into a heated argument in front of Vera, her friends who were standing as witnesses and her parent who were threatening to arrest me. I was slapped twice by my dad. With tears in my eyes, I pleaded with Vera to speak the truth but, she was quiet all through. After much heated arguments again, Vera and everybody left our house with the dad promising to bring police to arrest me.

My situation went from bad to worst. After Vera with her parent left, my dad began to rain abuses on me, saying I brought disgrace to his name even as he agreed to take me as his sons and am rewarding him with this kind of situation and disgrace to his name he said that and went inside. I asked my mum what that meant and she said I am not Mr Olaniyi’s son. I was shocked and in tears again. She said she was raped by a man called Alhaji Musa, who was her boss then. She became pregnant but the man had denied the allegation even when taken to court. My dad accepted that she kept the child on the ground that the child is only going to be a boy to stay in his house but if a girl, she would be given to the orphanage. And so it was a boy, born after three still births all males. But my dad has not being really happy just for the fact that the first male child from my mum was not his child. When I was discussing with my mum, my dad went inside, took all my Certificate and everything that bears his name and destroyed them by fire. He then ordered me out of his house and their lives forever forbidding me from ever stepping foot in his house again. My younger ones pleaded and pleaded even in tears but my dad was adamant, my elder sister Nike, was not around and so I took few of my clothing’s and left to a world of my own in confusion, anger and pain. I cried to God, but it was as if he too was silent. That night, I went to Vera’s house pleading with her to say the truth and clear my name, but she remained silent, in fact, her father released their dogs on me leaving me to run for my life.

to be continued......
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EPISODE TWO

In preparation for my third UME, I started attending JAMB classes. February 2002, there was a heated argument between my dad and me. He called me “money waster” with no future ambition. I was deeply hurt and spoke back at him. He almost disowned me that day. He told my mum to return me back to my father that none of his sons would dare talk back at him like that. All this happened because I was not able to iron his cloth, I was trying to explain to him that there was no light before I left for tutorial class by 4pm. Then he flared up that I am even talking back at him. Everything was settled after two days as things began to move as usual.

I practiced so hard for UME 2002 that I began to put some of my friends through in what had become my best subject, Mathematics. That was when I met Vera. Vera was a pretty girl but very hostile especially to boys. I wanted nothing to do with her. But we attended the same church, her house is close to mine and now, we were attending the same tutorial classes. She was not that bright, she and some other of my friends used to come to my house in the morning and we would solve some Maths problems together, study other subjects and meet in the evening to proceed for tutorial class. Vera began to come closer to me which made Johnson jealous because he had an eye for Vera, but she had rejected him on many occasions. I made it clear to Vera that I am not interested in any relationship of any kind and she said there is no problem. I began talking to her about changing her ways and becoming friendly as a lady should be. Her character began to change as she got closer to me and heeded to my advice. I taught her how important it is to study and practice the word of God and stay connected to Him. There was a remarkable transformation going on in her life and I was happy and grateful to God about it.

In the month of May 2002, we wrote the UME. We were all highly expecting a very good result and so it was. I had 225, Vera scored 216 some of my other friends scored very high. It was now time to prepare for post-UME. I was very happy. My birthday came and went, I even had a gift from Vera. But all of a sudden, I did not hear from her again. I did not see her in the church, neither could I reach her on the phone. I wanted to check on her at home but I had never been at her place before.
to be continued......
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Born to a family of six, I am the second child and first boy of the family. James Gbenga Olaniyi is my name. I was brought into this world on the 6th of June 1983. According to my mum, my dad was over-joyed having had his first male child who was not a still-birth as there had being 3 still-births by my mum all males before my elder sister, Nike came to be. My life have not been a life of pleasure from the beginning. There have being a lot of ups and downs.

I wrote my WAEC examinations in the year 2000, I also had a very high score in UME, 225. But when WAEC results came out, I had a D in English Language which thwarted my hope and ambition of going to the University at an early age. Although people say I was still young, I did not believe because I had dreams of finishing University at the age of 25. But that was not God’s plan for me. I wanted to study Petrochemical Engineering. But, the Almighty had a great plan for me.

I wrote UME again in 2001, having cleared my papers by writing WAEC/GCE in 2000, but still no admission. I was just at home. I did all the clean-up, cooking and all other house chores. Whenever there was an error of any kind in the house, I was called for query. I had to answer to it. It was a frustrating experience, but it thought me a lot as regards taking care of home. My dad a very nice man, but very strict, he disliked anything or anyone going against his rules and will not hesitate to punish anyone who goes against his rules. All of us kept his rules and he loved us all except that I had always questioned his love for me ever since my mum gave birth to Isaac, fourth child and second boy, my dad became hostile to me, he started treating me as if am not his son, the case got worse when John and Samuel were given birth to. I began to presume that something was wrong somewhere, but I do not know where or how and why it is so.

As soon as I stepped into the party, my feet were already plotting against me. With each step, I staggered like a newborn calf on an ice ground. It was a miracle I didn't fall over face-first onto the dance floor. But I persevered, determined to conquer the treacherous unsteady heights of my high heels.

As the music blared and people gyrated around me, I realized I had no clue when to shout or cheer. The entertainer on stage was busting out impressive moves, twirling and flipping. But instead of screaming my admiration at the right moments, I ended up shouting at the most inappropriate times. My attempts to blend in were comically futile.

Undeterred by my lack of party prowess, I threw caution to the wind and unleashed my inner dance warrior. I bounced on my limbs with rigorous energy. My moves were so wild and uncoordinated that I created a force field around me, as if everyone was trying to avoid being accidentally hit, lol.

To my surprise, instead of laughing at me, people around me joined in the absurdity. Soon, we were all engaged in synchronized chaos, dancing like lunatics with no regard for coordination or rhythm. Laughter filled the air as we stumbled and twirled, turning the dance floor into a market.

I managed to connect with partygoers who, like me, were just there for a good time. We shared stories, exchanged laughter, and bonded over our lack of dancing abilities.

By the end of the night, my feet were throbbing, and my laughter echoed in my ears as I struggled toward the exit. As I bid farewell to my newfound party comrades, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Who would have thought that a night of stumbling and inappropriate shouts would turn into a night of unforgettable memories and laughter?
I sure did enjoy myself and y'allhere can join me next time😆.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight on New Year's Eve, I found myself in a cozy corner of my favorite reading space. The air was filled with a sense of anticipation, but rather than feeling anxious about the uncertainties of the upcoming year, I embraced curiosity.

With a contented smile, I opened a book and began jotting down reflections of the year gone by. Each page became a reason for gratitude, capturing the moments of joy, challenges faced, and lessons learned. I whispered words of thanks to God for the beautiful experiences that shaped the past 365 days.

Outside, the world prepared for the countdown, with distant echoes of laughter, praises and cheer to God. However, in my sanctuary of serenity, the focus remained on the present moment. I acknowledged the simple pleasures of solitude and the comfort found in gratitude.
With each passing minute, I felt a gentle sense of drowsiness enveloping me. The weight of the year's experiences lifted, leaving behind a heart lightened by appreciation and a mind ready to welcome the mysteries of tomorrow.

As the clock struck midnight, the world erupted in celebratory cheers. The new year had arrived, and I embraced it with a heart full of gratitude and a soul curious about the adventures yet to come.

As I sit here on the eve of the new year, my mind drifts back to a week earlier, when I had eagerly awaited the arrival of 2024. In my dreams, I had envisioned a grand celebration for the first day of the year, complete with a feast fit for royalty. Two succulent chickens would be the centerpiece of the sumptuous meal, filling the house with their appetizing aroma.

But as the first day of the new year dawns upon me, reality sets in. I sniff the air, hoping to catch a whiff of the tantalizing scent of roasted chicken. Yet, all I smell is the familiar fragrance of my everyday surroundings. I search my pockets, only to find them devoid of the funds needed to acquire the ingredients for my dream feast.

However, even in the face of this small disappointment, I refuse to let it dampen my spirits. For you see, the essence of the new year lies not in the material luxuries or extravagant celebrations, but in the joy and anticipation that it brings.

And so, with happiness illuminating my heart and undiluted excitement coursing through my veins, I step into the new year. My expectations soar as high as the fireworks that light up the sky above, for I know that this year holds endless possibilities, infinite opportunities, and moments of pure bliss.

I am not defined by the absence of chicken or lavish feasts. Rather, I am defined by the gratitude in my soul, the love in my heart, and the hope that guides my every step. No matter the circumstances, I choose to embrace this new chapter with open arms, ready to create, to learn, and to evolve.

In the past year, things happened—some good, some not so much. It's like a story with ups and downs. At the beginning, I had big dreams and faced tough times along the way. But I didn't give up.

As the year moved along, I dealt with problems and learned from them. It was like turning challenges into lessons that helped me grow. Now, as the year is ending, I can see I did okay. I faced difficulties and came out stronger.

The end of the year is not just about a date on the calendar; it's like finishing a chapter in my life story. I learned to keep going, adapt to changes, and stay strong. Now, as I look ahead to a new year, I'm feeling hopeful and ready for whatever comes next.

Though the year is ending but believe me it is not the end of every dream and aspirations and as such you need to stand strong face your fears, learn from the past and always aspire to become the better version of yourself.

Yesterday, I celebrated my Christmas in the most joyous and exhilarating way. It was a day filled with laughter, excitement, and memories that will last a lifetime. As the sun began to set, I embarked on a mission to make this Christmas the most spectacular one yet.

I started by visiting the local fireworks store, ready to bring a burst of color and light to the night sky. I was determined to have the most thrilling fireworks display in the entire neighborhood. I carefully selected an assortment of fireworks, each promising to dazzle and captivate all those who watched.

With my arms full of sparklers, firecrackers, and colorful rockets, I hurried back home. It was time to prove that my age group had the best fireworks display yet. As darkness enveloped the sky, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation.

As the first firework soared into the air, exploding into a cascade of vibrant colors, the competition began. One by one, the neighboring age groups released their own fireworks, each vying for the title of the most thrilling display. The night sky transformed into a breathtaking canvas of light and sound, with every explosion eliciting cheers from the onlooking crowd.

Filled with adrenaline and excitement, I ignited my carefully chosen fireworks. They danced across the sky, creating a symphony of color and delight. The oohs and aahs from the spectators filled my heart with an indescribable joy. I felt a swell of pride as my fireworks erupted with brilliant showers of light, pushing the boundaries of imagination.

But my Christmas celebration was not just about the fireworks. It was also a time to indulge in the bountiful feast that awaited us. As I joined my family and friends around the table, my senses were overwhelmed by the irresistible aroma of roasted meats. Platters piled high with succulent chicken, juicy beef, and tender lamb awaited our eager palates.

With each bite, my taste buds danced with delight. The meat was so incredibly delicious that I couldn't help but have second and even third servings. The flavors melded together seamlessly, filling me with a contentment that only comes from enjoying a truly satisfying meal.

Laughter and conversation echoed through the room as we shared stories and exchanged gifts. The joy in the air was infectious, spreading like wildfire and warming the hearts of all who were present. We may have eaten more than our fair share, but in that moment, the feast represented so much more than a meal. It symbolized love, togetherness, and the joy of celebration.