BOSSY SLAP

 
  Just to drop this here and clear my mind. I had a serious quarrel with my boss this morning. Everyone knows how the traffic in Lagos can be annoying. I got to work late which I'm not proud of and I actually showed how sorry I was. But my boss kept on ranting and shouting like I was his toy boy. That wasn't the first time he did it. But today I had to let him know I wouldn't take it. He insulted my mother and said rubbish about my wife. I'm yet to get married though. And then,when I made to leave his presence,he dragged my expensive shirt and landed a slap on my cheek. I wondered for a second what exactly it was I did. I came late and it wasn't my fault. I already apologised. My expensive shirt despite the poor pay and I was even hungry. Mheeen...I gave my own back o. I slapped him. Perharps Na young bobo like me. I did that and I walked out. I haven't gone back to the office today and I'm yet to get my sack call or firing squad text messages. I haven't gotten a fax either. Tomorrow I'll know what's in for me and I'll share. Whatever the case maybe,please pray for me and I want to know if I went too far.

I'M MAD

 
I have issues with myself and I try everyday to be a better person. I hold a high position in a reputable company and I am single. I have no interest in any other man except the man who mans the gate at my office. I have never seen a gateman so enticing and handsome. He speaks fluently and is built though his legs are not super straight. I don't know if advancing him is a good idea. I have talked with a friend about this and she thinks I'm crazy considering my reputation and she thinks he won't fit into my circle of friends. The thing is I can't stop thinking of him. Its always crazy when he opens the gate in the morning. I keep staring at him in his uniform. I'm I mad or is this feeling real? I'm yet to understand myself.

FROM OLUCHI: THANK YOU

I'm really glad that despite how young this blog is,people are already responding and sharing their experiences. Please I urge us all to read and not just read,give solutions. Do well to comment. You can't tell whose life you are saving. This is a young blog like I said, please share with your friends and family. These happenings are real and are told by our brothers and sisters. We just crossed our first 100 views,which is splendid.

As time goes on,other features will be added to make sure you don't get bored. This will be a life changing experience. To send your experiences, please forward them to oluchiene@gmail.com. I will be waiting to share your good and bad times with you. Thank you for reading!

UNHAPPY

As a growing child, I never knew the meaning of love. I lost my mum at a very tender age. My father didn't help matters as he was a very strict man that allowed no form of emotion. My father later passed on and I had to be taken to my Aunty's place. I thought my father was harsh but compared to my Aunt,he was super kind. My Aunt made me do all kinds of work in the house. The annoying part was that she had children but she never allowed them do anything. I was to do every damn job in the house and the day I missed any,I will have to prepare my obituary posters. Anyway,that was some years back. My aunt is also late. I later got married and I have 2 children now but what gives me concern is my husband's attitude. He promised to do alot for me knowing what I had passed through. But that's not the case now. He suspects me,talks to me rudely,he has even had few affairs that he wasn't even scared to flaunt before me. To call me his love is a huge case. He grumbles and complains when giving me money for upkeep. He has refused me working saying he doesn't trust me and any other man. The truth is I was happy getting married because I felt it was love at last. And to think I have never had any boyfriend and he is the first man to know me,if you know what I mean is disheartening. He insults with my family background.
I dont kniw if its too early or too late to find my way and be happy. Being happy is all I seek and nothing else. I didn't come to this world to suffer. Why has it been sadness since the beginning? Please I need help before I loose it.

YOU WON'T BELIEVE I DID THIS

We’ve all done silly things at some point in our lives. Well, I am human too! Lol…I am not particularly proud of this incidence but, it sure leaves me laughing my throat out whenever memory slaps it back to face. Here it goes…Back then, when our socks where always white (or shoulda say brown? LMAO) – I’m talking primary school! I remember one faithful Monday morning. I had forgotten to press (“iron”) my school uniform during the weekend. I only realized how rumpled it was when I was about putting it on. After having bathed, I was ready to try it on. “There is absolutely no way I am going to wear this to school!” I murmured to myself, while checking my handsome self out in the mirror. Yeah! I said HANDSOME.

I prayed for NEPA to restore power (‘cos there was blackout that morning) as I slowly munched my breakfast, but it was not to be – obviously! Its Nigeria!!! After eating I was already about five minutes late for school. I grabbed my backpack and hurried out of the house. As I approached the gates, the deafening sound of our neighbour’s sound system slammed the news to my attention that “NEPA DON BRING LIGHT!”. Ok. At that moment, confusion set in. I was caught between taking either of these decisions – continue the journey to school with your rumpled uniform; or go back inside and quickly press it. Don’t forget I am already late…at this time, about ten minutes late.

I dashed back inside. Quickly connected the pressing iron to the power source, tuned the regulator to highest, and waited a bit for it to warm up. My impatience quickly outgrew my calm. I picked up the iron and started pressing the uniform while I was still wearing it! – I don’t have time to waist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Felt good for just about the first half a minute. As I slide the iron down my body from my chest towards my hand, it even felt better!!! *smiles*

Yeah! It happened. The iron mistakenly went beyond my shirt sleeve’s length, and I caught the smell! – you know that smell of meat roasting right!? Yes…that smell. The rush was soon over. I sent the iron crashing hard into the tiled floor while my mouth gapped wider than ever before shouting that melodious hymn of pain only after ten seconds it has been open! (you know that kain tin na). Na so I take cry ehnnnnn…filled the house with it. I turned off the switch angrily, and dashed for school once again. This time, with only the chest of my uniform pressed and a face that tells the tale!!!

Yesssssssssss!!! I did that! Your’s sincerely – Ajayi Darlington ( anor dey shame! Talk your own)

I HAVE A CONFESSION

  Oluchi I guess this is a new blog you just created but I was very happy seeing this blog address yesterday. The blog is one that will help me pour my mind out as much as I want. I'll like to remain anonymous or better still use a name...Let's call me...Pam. Yea,Pam is my name and I have a confession.
  I am one of those who believe in the value of sex. I believe in sex after marriage but whatever happened in 2014,I can't explain. I won't say much except that,I have had something intimate with about three guys this year and the crazy thing is I love them all. Another scary part is what I have been trying to understand. Since January this year to this very month,I have had sex every month. I never plan it. It just happens and I see myself regretting the act after it happens. Don't get me wrong. I never sold myself out. I fell in love with these three guys though I felt like a 'social worker'. I felt worse than them.
 Its december and 2015 is very exciting. I can feel it. All I am hoping is that my 2015 stays void of any form of sexual act. I do not want to loose my soul to the devil. I cry at the thought of the three guys because I had to choose one or let them all go. I have learnt a whole lot from this and I pray everyday for forgiveness.
Like I said,Oluchi I like your blog and as long it profers solution,it'll go far. Thanks for this.
This is my confession. ...Pam...

PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME

  At the mention of hearing that a lady committed an abortion,I will say "God forbid. How could she kill a life when she can't create one?" I judged immediately. When I heard someone stole,I will say "beat him. Let him get his sense back". When I noticed a girl coming from a guys house and probably oozing the I-slept-with-him-last-night perfume,I'll feel disgusted immediately.
  All I could do was judge without wearing their shoes. I didn't think knowing how they felt. I didn't waste a second to keep the judge words out.
  Later this year,God decided to teach me a lesson. I met a guy this year. He was all cozy and sweet. He was the exact kind of guy a lady will want to take to mama. He was handsome,intelligent and despite the fact that he was young,he was full of experience. He was the one! Things went on with from romance to sex to learning to experience to whatever you can think of. It was great. A lot went down and at the second month of our dating,I missed my period. I was pregnant.
  I immediately thought of all those I judged. I thought of what people would say. I thought of my parents and siblings. No! I won't take it. Immediately,I had to get a test done and it tested positive. I went for an abortion. I didn't tell the guy because I knew he would ask me to keep it but I wasn't ready for that. I went through all that on my own. After some months,I told the guy what I did and he felt so bad. But he was quick to let the matter go and after some months of speaking with him and living with so much guilt,I stopped hearing from him.
  The essence of my story is for us to quit judging people. Wear their shoes before saying a word. People are not as bad as we think. If anyone told me I'll ever take a baby off me,I'll bet my life to say nay. But it happened. I was so hard on myself but I had to move on and become a better person. I hope I have touched someone's life with this story.

MY HOUSE

  I actually love where I stay because the road to my house is one long bent smooth road. The roads do not have bumps and its usually dangerous because of school kids and the reckless driving of some bike men and car drivers. So when walking on the road,one has to be extremely careful. By the roadside,you'll see women who do petty businesses like selling of biscuits and sweets,bananas,akara and 'engroll'. You'll see tailors ,coblers,mechanics. But the street business na mostly the mini shoprite...selling house hold needs including food stuff and fruits,all in one shop. One of this kind of shoprites is directly opposite my compound. It makes it so easy to be lazy bacause I know I can always get anything i want You wont fail to recognise the mosque as their public speaker is always on trying to convert we christians. At times i wonder the essence of the loud speakers. I remember trying to talk to one of them just to find out if they have ear issues. On entering the compound through the black gate,i live on the right building. The fairly painted wall is of a confused colour. I dont know if its ash or a faded blue or green. The centre of the house is usually used for parking cars. Space neant for football. Mstcheeeew. The floor is of german floor sha. Far opposite the gate is a well where we fetch water even for cooking. You dont want to know the kind.of fetchers and buckets and dirty water that has gone into that well. Here,they wait for the government to do everything for them including supplying then with water.I remember saying a prayer for my system. I prayed that i dont contract one kain uncurable disease. The centre of the building has a staircase which isnt long but high. When fetching from.the well,i hated the staircase. Even on.a.normal day,the staircase was enough to gym.yams outta your legs. Th staircase will lead you to my flat and the opposite persin who is suppised to be my neighbour. Till date i dont know if its a man or a woman that lives there. The house is obviously 1960 because it still has that octal shaped brick usually used.in designing.a.corridor. i remember my old house in lagos had it before the landlord decided to patch it to modernization. The front corridor is usually used to gossip when neighbpurs threaten to fight because thats all they do. They raise my hopes of getting real entertainment and then they kill it totally. The net and door will say welcome to our empty parlour. Just empty. A part close to the kitchn is where the dustbin is being kept and close to the window is where my flatmate kept a tv carton and some stuff i cant really explain. The funniest thing is the tv in his room doesnt match the carton. The tv is 1992 and the cartoon is 2013. Now.you know.what i mean. Close to the parlour is the kitchen. Small but manageable and comfortable. My flatmate had it prepared before i came. The kitchen has a sink and a double layer wooden shelf. It has a locally made electric stove. I was really impressed at the creativity of people. The only thing was that it had no control switch. It just burns your food if you are not careful. There is also a kerosine stove which my flatmate dedicates himself to using it to paint the back of the pot. Then,the kitchen also has bent spoons,few plates,bowls,sieves,spoilt blenders and about 6 custard buckets. I was only impressed seeing a mortar and pestle in a bachelors house. The window is always dusty as it hasnt been cleaned in ages. Frin the window,you'll see villagers going about their activities and schoool kids entering their school. My flat has 3 rooms. The sizes are very ok. It haa a bathroom and toilet that has just cemented floors. Just close to my room is the door to the back corridor. The corridor is large enough too. From there,you can see a newly built Bungalow. You will also see the well by the left and the untarred street road by the right. I was really ok with the house compared to what the rest got in the name of accommodation. Its like im forming big girl but no be me poor pass. Haba

HOUSE HUNTING

   So the gist is I'm currently serving in Osun state. Serving Nigeria no be beans o. Getting my house alone wasn't an easy task. I was super happy when I heard housing was super cheap because the truth was I wasn't ready to spend a lot of money on housing. I remember a friend telling me she got a house for N250 a month. God! I was so happy. I danced shoki. The way she described the house was so tush and was as if Dangote built it. Ha! 250 naira for a month. I said would not miss it. I was so anxious to see the house. We stopped a "korope"(that's what the mini bus is called). I wanted the driver to fly. I needed him to fly. My dear,we eventually got to a thick bush where the roads had obviously been touched last since 1472. For a split second,I thought my friend was a ritualist. I had to ask "Nne biko,where is the house?". Then she said,"we'll soon get there". My dear,this endurance trek lasted for about 26 minutes and when I saw the house...I fainted in spirit as I was lost.
    The house was in the middle of a thick bush. The path to get to the house had lots of dry fallen branches that will either cling to your clothes or brush your skin. The "magarine-flies" in their hungry colours didn't miss out on displaying their welcome weak flying skills. I was still expecting us to walk up when my friend said "we don reach". God! I was disappointed. It was as if I saw suffering in human form. The bungalow was built with mud and I guess the mud finished as the house wasn't plastered. Cracked walls with dirty water that has had the job of breeding mosquitoes everywhere. There were pots and stools and old stoves and old bags packed up in front of the house. There were about 3 broken buckets that were obviously passed down to the current generation lying close to the dirty path. The door had a dirty curtain hanging on it and close to it was written: " This house is not for SALE. Beware of 419".I wondered who would want to buy the house or dupe one of this kind of house. The roof had turned from brown to rusted brown. Some woods and mats were also on the roof. I can bet the roof was leaking and the mat was used to cover up. The landlady sat talking with my friend as they kept speaking yoruba language. She didn't even care who was there. She sat wearing her 'it-was-white-bra' and her wrapper that was obviously begging to be washed. My friend signaled me to follow her in and I did. The room was the same size with a toilet. It wasn't painted and looked like where the witches in the village had a meeting recently. The walls were completely wet from what I don't know and had white stains. Hmmmn,there and then I preferred sleeping in a rich man's toilet. I pinched myself and asked: "wait o. How much did you say the house is again?" She said: "N250 per month." "Chai. Oluchi you don fuck up. How did I get myself into this?" I thought. I came out from the room to get fresh air when I jammed the land lady shining her coloured teeth to me saying "Sisi,ba wo ni?". And I smiled sarcastically saying "I'm fine ma". The woman's eyes no be for here o. This kind of landlady won't let me rest at night obviously. My friend was going to ask me "how far na" when I told her to tell the woman that we'll get back to her.
  As soon as we left,I did not hesitate to ask my friend about her love for me. She should have just told me she hated me. I was looking for cheap accommodation didn't mean I was looking for a shit hole or death sentence. Anyways,we laughed that out and I continued my home hunting. It didn't take long sha as I talked with my CLO who called a friend. We checked out two houses which were flats and I eventually chose one. Somebody say alleluia because right now asides the fact that water is a challenge,I'm happy where I am. Hope you had a great day? It's a wonderful evening. Do have a fabulous night.

Everyday with ME

This is seems to be the umpteenth time I'm creating a blog. Lol. The writing flare comes and goes but this seems to be something of great interest for me,thanks to NYSC. I do not want to go into boring details about what NYSC is but we'll definitely get to it in time. I am a native of Nnewi in Anambra state. Did I hear you say the money lovers and sense crackers??? Yels! We are business gurus and we are proud of it. Oluchi happens to be my native name which means "Work Of God". Yea. I can't do anything without my maker and that's why He takes all the glory.

 To cut the long story short,this space is like a view into my everyday living. For as many as I can't reach,I'll be so close here. I want you to be a part of me. I want to connect with people from all over.
 This is a personal blog and I want you to connect with me in business too on www.raregemafrica.blogspot.com.
  I'll tell you about RGA(for short)later. Typing this has made me appreciate the essence of a blackberry. Androids are dope. Please don't get me wrong but omo,there is nothing like BB o.

•  At this juncture,I'll like to run away. I'm on an official security job and I must perform. I'll get to you at any little space I get. Love.