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DISCLAIMER:

This is a weak attempt at rewriting a TRUE life story as being told by the culprits. Any semblance to characters living, dead, re-incarnate or in limbo is a coincidence. If animals and humans were hurt during the writing of this post, it is due to the fact that research has to be done to make it more interesting. All blunders are mine, please bear with me, thanks in advance as you read, comment and share the post.

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The National Youth Service Corps [NYSC] is a scheme designed and aimed at harnessing and integrating the vast and diverse socio-cultural differences in this country. It is created to reconstruct, reconcile and rebuild the country after the Nigerian Civil war.

The unfortunate antecedents in our national history gave impetus to the establishment of the National Youth Service Corps by decree No.24 of 22nd May 1973 which stated that the NYSC is being established “with a view to the proper encouragement and development of common ties among the youths of Nigeria and the promotion of national unity”. The purpose of the scheme is primarily to inculcate in Nigerian Youths the spirit of selfless service to the community, and to emphasise the spirit of unity and brotherhood of all Nigerians, irrespective of cultural or social background. The history of our country since independence has clearly indicated the need for unity amongst all our people, and demonstrated the fact that no cultural or geographical entity can exist in isolation.

The National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) is an organisation set up by the Nigerian government to involve the country’s graduates in the development of the country. There is no military conscription in Nigeria, but since 1973 graduates of universities and later Polytechnics have been required to take part in the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) program for one year. “Corps” members are posted to cities far from their city of origin. They are expected to mix with people of other tribes, social and family backgrounds, to learn the indigenous culture of their host community.

The universities and other institutions of higher learning are normally expected to be training ground for future leaders, except that, as we are all aware, these institutions are first and foremost committed to the advancement of learning and knowledge, then training of people for good citizenship. Little wonder that the products of these institutions have been accused of being too elitist in their outlook, of not identifying with the plight of common man, and of inability to appreciate predicament of the vast majority of our people who live in the rural areas.

The achievements of NYSC are too numerous to mention. However, there are some lapses which should be improved upon in order for the objectives of NYSC to be achieved. These include the following:

[1] The general welfare of corps members should be taken seriously. This is to enable corps members perform creditably.

[2] The monthly allowances for corps members should be increased to cater efficiently for the basic needs of the members.

[3] Most employee use the NYSC scheme as an avenue to over use corps, making them work for longer hours for little or no pay. This area should be looked into.

[4] Most NYSC orientation camps are in a sorry state, thus, the need for urgent attention for the construction of more befitting camps.

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Nationwide Youth Sex Clique [NYSC]

Well, this will definitely sound strange but a closer look at this other meaning for the acronym NYSC is more than required. Basically, in life, males tend to do well than females when it comes to the survival of the fittest. And you will all agree with me that the NYSC, like virtually all Nigerian scenarios, is the survival of the fittest.

Stories abound of series of sexual harassment being experienced by female NYSC members. Sexual harassment while searching for places of Primary Post Assignment [PPA], sexual harassment while searching for accommodation, as in most cases, accommodation are not provided by employees, and many more avenues for sexual harassment, which these courageous ladies have been living with in silence. Instances abound where members of the host community usually rape female corps members, thus, it came as no surprise when a high profile case involving a monarch in one of the western states of the country, sexually harassed a female corps member, came to life. How on earth will a king rape a hapless corps member beats my imagination?

I’m particularly concerned and interested in the evils perpetrated by female NYSC members across the country. I’ve been in and around different towns, from the water logged south-south, through the western rainforest, to the semi-arid northern desert land, female corps members tend to involve in “hybrid commercial sex activities” all the way, their style and mode just differs!

A close scrutiny of the host communities reveals that most female corps members are seen as “quick sexual” commodity who will be replaced by another new sets of “quick sexual” commodity in another 365 days by the authorities. This ensures a continuous supply stream of either clean, beautiful, fresh, classy, classless, ugly or dirty sets of girls, depending on the one you get lucky to lay your hands upon among the sea of female corps member available at your disposal. From the high profile residents of the host community, to the wealthy elderly ones, and as expected, to the affluent rich young boys/men, they all readily tap into this pool of ladies to satisfy their sexual urge.

For Romoke [original names withheld], her one year service period was fun filled to the brim as she had the luxury, time and freedom to wine and dine with the biggest of the biggest male folks in her town of service. After you wine and dine, what next? You lay with them or get laid with! Hear her out: “At least bi-monthly, I had my wardrobe changed by my numerous suitors. They splashed cash on me and my friends at will. All we had to do was to do what their old fashioned wife at home couldn’t do for them. We made sex, and perhaps, love making a new discovery to them. Taking them,practically, through all the modern and more sexually engaging routines in bed. From the hand-jobs, to the blow-jobs, down to the twosome, threesome and many more sex escapades. We satisfied them, sexually, beyond their expectation, and they also satisfied us, financially, beyond our expectation, after all, this is our last chance at real fun, for after service, there’s the usual family pressure to get married waiting for us. Nobody wants to keep sleeping around after marriage. So we just kept laying with different men, without commitment, we are not prostitutes. Prostitutes are paid for the night’s service. We are corporate fun girls, we are paid for a year’s service!” – she concluded with a wide grin on her face before proceeding to plant a kiss on my forehead. I could feel the loins between my laps jerk, I sighed. It is only the will of GOD that can truly resist the antics of these girls.

If Romoke’s tale stunned you, then you’ll be more perplexed by the story from Stephanie [original name withheld]: “I fully support the NYSC scheme, it has really kept me above poverty line, who cares about their monthly allowance? I made lots of connections during my NYSC, I have met men, who pretend to love me, and who I pretend to love also, just to satisfy each other’s needs. I don’t know why there’s so much fuss about corps members sleeping around? Let me ask you a question; while in the university proper, were we not sleeping with our respective boyfriends who make us go through a lot of hassle just to make our hair? There was a period I wasn’t laying with only one man, I had to lay with men with the help of two fellow female corps members. The peak of my NYSC sexual escapade, was sleeping with a man with four other female corps members, it’s awesome. Little work, very huge pay, about #35,000 for less than six hours of licking, sucking, stroking, rubbing a man, with the aid of four other girls. It’s the easiest sex job have ever had! I felt more like we “scammed” the old fool!” – she boastfully ends her tale, tipping me with brand new mints. I didn’t know what I was to do with it, is she paying me a commission for that job she did?

These and many more mind blowing tales abound of the various shameful evil being perpetrated by some female corps members. Please, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying all female corps members are object of sexual satisfaction, all I’m saying is that some female corps members have painted their host town “red” with their insatiable greed, thus sleeping with every tom, dick and harry.

A very sharp view as shared by @authenticlepa reads thus: “God bless you SAMA for this piece, but something seems missing, isn’t the title “Nationwide Youth Sex Clique?”, so why lay all the emphasis on the female corps members only? I do agree totally with all you’ve said, but what about words for the shameful guys, posted to primary/secondary schools to build the leaders of tomorrow and instead, they go there to contribute to ruining their future? Most male corps members also take advantage of the indigenous female residents of their host community during this one year of “supposed selfless service” and commit a lot of atrocities too; “de-filing” young girls and thus jeopardising their bright futures. Sometimes I wonder if NYSC is really serving its purpose and why it can’t simply be scrapped” –

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CONCLUSION:

I implore all female [and male] corps members who indulge in all forms of “sexually commercial driven” activities to desist from such and imbibe the spirit of hardwork and discipline to ensure a safer and better future for themselves and their loved ones.

*dodges stone…..weaves broken bottle*, damn, the male folks on the street are really hating me for this piece.
I’m sorry bro/sir, these ladies are first and foremost, our younger/older sisters, then our wives, then our mother, we CAN NOT let them ruin the future of our kids, let’s fix them right now before it’s too late.

In writing this piece, I share,not to boast but that the world through my own little way, may become a better place.
Your opinions count, please do share!

“GREAT things we have done, GREATER things we shall do” – @sama_on_point

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint

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♥ MUST READ ♥
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DISCLAIMER:

This is a weak attempt at rewriting a TRUE life story as being told by the survivor. Any semblance to characters living, dead, re-incarnate or in limbo is a coincidence. All blunders are mine, please bear with me, thanks in advance as you read, comment and share the post.

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My name is Chinwe, I am 26 years old, I never graduated from the university, simply because I was stupid and careless. On my 24th birthday, I received a nice gift, it was a blackberry phone, I always wanted one, it was like a right of passage to the echelons of “top girls” on campus. My ex-boyfriend got it for me, he was a student like me, didn’t have a job but he was a “working class student” [i.e an internet fraudster] and I never cared to ask how he could afford it, my concern at that point was, yes I had finally arrived. I know you all will be surprised my ex-boyfriend could be so generous to buy a blackberry phone for me, well the truth is we are sort of “friends with benefit”, we sleep with each other whenever we want to get away from the commitments of our present lovers, I was really cool with the “arrangement”, after all, he was a guy I once had true emotional feelings for, did I? Not sure though.

Other girls in my hostel had blackberry smart phones and I regularly always feel a pint of angry blood rush down my veins whenever I heard sounds of pings and messages dropping into their phones at all hours, I would stare at my Nokia phone and wish I could throw it away, but “half bread they say is better than none”. I hoped and even had to fast to get a blackberry phone, but looking back now, if I had the opportunity, I’d prefer a CDMA land line phone with no internet activity what so ever. Anyway, I got the blackberry phone and even got the BIS subscription done by my “ex-boyfriend/ friend with benefit”, at that moment my life was complete.

Gradually, I got acquitted with various social media sites and finally I settled down with twitter. In no time, I used all sorts of “female seduction techniques” to establish myself on twitter and gradually, my followers count increased exponentially. With over 8,000 followers, more than half of which were guys, lots of Direct Messages from “potential suitors” kept tripping into my phone, but one particular guy caught my attention, till this day I don’t know what made him stand out, but we got chatty, he sent me direct messages and I replied, he seemed to be a gentleman, and I can’t remember him ever asking for a nude picture unlike the rest of them, this made me really comfortable with him, his name was Tobi, he claimed to be a doctor. I didn’t have any cause to doubt him, he had vast knowledge and even gave me some medical advice periodically, we eventually moved from twitter to blackberry chat, we chatted virtually all day, I got so comfortable with him, I gave him my
number, and that would rank top on my biggest mistakes list!

At night, he would call and I would lay on my bed and have phone sex with him, his voice was so soothing, he made me do things I never thought possible, he had gained so much access into my head. I realised later I had done some very sick and twisted things just to please him, I would take nude pictures of myself, I would send him videos of me caressing myself, and send him voice notes of me making moaning sounds and simulating “climaxing”, and all these while we had not met. “Dr Tobi” eventually agreed to come to Lagos to meet me, he told me to book a reservation for him, stating he would pay me back as soon as he arrived. He eventually made it to Lagos, I met him at the hotel, he was tall, handsome and had a wonderful smile, he made love to me over and over, and convinced me to spend the night with him, I told him I couldn’t, because I had a test the next morning, now at this point I don’t know what triggered his anger, don’t know if it was because I couldn’t spend the night, or maybe I said something else I can’t remember saying, but whatever it was, it brought out the very beastly side of him. He called me foul names, and kept ranting about how he always knew I was cheap, and he knew I was sleeping with other men. In less than half an hour, he totally became a beast, the same man whom had swept me off my feet became the man making me stand on my toes, I was scared to my bone marrow, I didn’t notice I had wet my pant. Before I knew it, he had slammed me on the floor, he told me how he had shown his friends all my nude pictures and how they had watched the videos and listened to the voice notes, he told me he had made a bet with his friends, that I would actually pay him to have sex with me, just to prove how stupid I was, suddenly I felt sick, with a strong punch in the face, I tripped over and hit my head on a stool. The next thing I remember was waking up on the bed, he stood up and walked towards me ,I tried to scream and realised my mouth was tapped, my head was pouncing and my heartbeats had increased in manifolds, the unfortunate part was that no one knew where I was.

He turned me over, and told me he was going to teach me a lesson, at this point I had finally given up and resigned to my fate. He rapped me from behind, and I mean my anus, the pain was excruciating, I struggled, and he hit me, when he was done he brought out a razor blade from his wallet, and he looked at me for a minute and said, “these scars I will leave on you is going to always serve as a reminder, for girls like you, for stupid fools like you”. He put the blade to my face and cut it off. I don’t know how I survived it, but I woke up in the hospital days after, well I was awake, but my eyes were swollen shut. It took a couple of days for me to open my eyes, and realised the damage he had done to me, he had cut my face, he had cut my breasts up real bad, he took my bag, containing everything I had. I was taken home after weeks at the hospital to recuperate, it was tough, I was “anally de-flowered”, I had one breast greatly deformed and a hideous scar on my face. Talk about signatures, he duly left his autograph on me. How dumb was I? Sometimes I wish he had killed me and it dawned on me that there are fates worse than death, and I guess this is one of them, he was gone without a trace.

I didn’t dare go back to school, I was sure everyone would have heard, and I was not going to become a “referral statistic”. I have decided to publish my story, because with the rise of social media atrocities being committed, every story can go a long way in saving a life, so while you READ, SHARE and HELP someone back to the right path, these INTERNET PREDATORS are real.

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After listening patiently and in tears to Chinwe’s story, I felt weak from within. Her sight, which I thought was worse, was no where near the hurt and hatred she feels for herself and men in general.
There’s only one reason I took to the “blogosphere”, to contribute my little quota to the uplift of mankind, and to a considerable extent, I think I’m doing my best in publishing stories that has one way or the other saved a sister or a brother from ruin. I want to use this medium to specially appeal to all “INTERNET PREDATORS” [either male or female] to please desist from hurting innocent and unsuspecting fellow countrymen. Stealing from her/his “body” by deceiving him/her into sleeping with you is one thing, but inflicting physical bodily injury and pains is another “ball game” entirely.
Y’all folks should get wise and stop “falling heads over heel” for an anonymous dude/chic. This is not a castigation for “online dating”, it’s just an eye opener to the hazards inherent in it.
May God continue to guard, guide and protect us all. Thanks.

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To the bystander, my petite frame looks out of place amid a bevy of burly FUTA fc’s players. I may be small in stature, but as the old adage goes, dynamite comes in small packages. Although my name may not be too familiar among ardent football fans in the university community, I have been a regular fixture in the FUTA fc squad since 2009, playing a crucial part in virtually all major tournament the team had participated in.

The West African University Games [WAUG] which was held from January 10th – 20th, 2010, at the Bayero University Kano [B.U.K], was perhaps the biggest footballing event I have represented my university in. The competition allowed me the unique opportunity of touring the ancient city of Kano. The journey from Akure to Kano took the FUTA contingent about 15hours, we lost our way, arrived the town very early the next morning, around 3am, thus depriving us the opportunity of seeing the town in broad day light.

The muezzin’s call to prayer wafts across the town, echoing down faded streets lined with crumbling ruins. “Allah hu akbar!”, the city’s mosques are a reminder of the days when Arab merchants controlled these region. They arrived with Islam, sailing home on the trade winds with gold, ivory and – occasionally – slaves. The serenity of the town, the hospitality of the Hausa folks is second to none, with a population of about 10million inhabitants, the sheer beauty of Hausa girls really took me unaware, the rich culture and history associated with the ancient town shook me to my bone marrow. For once, I was glad I made the team to the tournament. Kano is one of the leading Hausa states, politically and economically.

Our first game was against a Senegalese University,
Cheikh Anta Diop University, Dakar,Senegal, tall, lanky and powerful french speaking undergraduates with a Dutch coach, it’s a match I’ll live to tell my grandchildren, God willing, it ended 3-3, we trailed by a goal by the 10th minute, midway through the second half, we were coasting 3-1, with less than 10 minutes to the end of the game, it was 3-3, we were praying and hoping gracefully for the referee to end the match, we held on. The result proved costly, as it came back to hunt and eliminate us from the competition. Our second match was against a Ghananian university, the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology [KNUST], we lost 1-0, the Ghananians were simply short, stoic and extremely more powerful than the Senegalese, their strength made the difference, what should be a routine save for our goalkeeper, turned out to be the costly mistake that decided the tie. We were starring elimination at close range, our fate was no longer in our hands, even at the University games, we had started our “combination and permutation”, just the way, we, Nigerians, do at virtually all major tournaments for the Super Eagles. Our next match was against our fellow countrymen from Niger State, Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida University, Lapai – Niger State. I think it’s fair to say we rightly taught them a footballing lesson, we won 5-0, with our top striker, Alobo James Pius [a.k.a MARTINS], chemistry department, 500level, now plying his trade with Dynamos Football Club, Ilesha who are presently in the second tier of the Nigerian Football league,the Nigerian National Premier League II, seeking promotion to the Nigeria Premier League, netting a hat-trick, he later added two more strikes to end the tournament as the leading top scorer. Our last match was against another fellow Nigerian university, from the ever lively city of Lagos, the Lagos State University [LASU], at the start of the match, we already knew our fate, we had been eliminated from the tournament, irrespective of the results of the match, it ended in a drab goalless draw, with the coach fielding second strings players, including myself!

With our footballing commitment done and dusted under 4 days, we had the luxury of touring the town, meeting and mixing with undergraduates and locals alike for the next 5 days, it was more engaging than the matches. I made a couple of friends, and as usual, I met a special final year female student of BUK, Akieh Jocelyn Carmelitta, a slim, tall, model-like English students, she engaged me in all ramifications for the last 5 days of our sojourn in Kano. She served as our tour guard round the town, we visited the Kano central mosque, the emir’s palace, the Kano groundnut pyramids, the various Kano gold markets and virtually all tourists centres in Kano. The unfounded, baseless and demonic activities of the dreaded Boko-Haram terrorists sect has long taken away the shine of the town, let’s take a moment to pray for all victims of insurgency in Northern Nigeria, oh GOD, please return peace to Nigeria!

I have bored you all with this details because come Monday, April 29th – May 2nd, 2013, I’ll lead 83 other athletes of he prestigious Federal University of Technology Akure [FUTA] to represent the university at the peak of university games in this country, the Nigerian University Games [NUGA], albeit through the zonal qualifiers, tagged the pre-NUGA to be hosted by Ladoke Akintola University [LAUTECH], Ogbomoso, for “Zone B”, comprising of universities from Ondo, Ekiti, Osun , Kwara and parts of Oyo states, with the top two universities qualifying to play in the NUGA proper to be hosted by Obafemi Awolowo University [OAU] by June, 2013. The Federal University of Technology Akure last qualified for the football finals of the main NUGA in 2002, damn I was still receiving orders from my seniors back in FGC Ogbomoso then, 11 years and my university hasn’t qualified for the main party isn’t acceptable for me and I’ve put in my best to right the wrong this time around, the FUTA football team is all pumped up for the challenge this time around, and with GOD’s blessing, we hope to qualify for the main party at OAU later this year. For the past 5 weeks, the football team has been training rigorously for the event, we played 7 “friendly matches”, won 4, drew 2 and lost 1. I’m confident we are in good shape and come my next blog, I’ll intimate you all with how we qualified, by GOD’s grace.

I implore you all to spur us on with your prayers and goodwill messages as we go out there to spill our blood, if it gets to that, for our prestigious university.
Thank you all…. *in 2-face Idibia’s voice* “tuale tuale…thank you…thank you…merci beaucoup…obrigado…gracias…dankeso…medase…asantesana…ngatenga…siya bonga…I love y’all!”

GREAT THINGS WE HAVE DONE; GREATER THINGS WE SHALL DO!!!

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint

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DISCLAIMER:

This is a weak attempt at blogging/story telling. Any semblance to characters living, dead, re-incarnate or in limbo is a coincidence. If animals and humans were hurt during the writing of this post, it is due to the fact that research has to be done to make it more interesting. Most importantly, this is not a true life story, it is just an imagination of the writer so all blunders are mine, please bear with me and correct any blunder you find and thanks in advance as you read, comment and share the post.

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Planet earth
Somewhere in a third-world country

She only stopped screaming when she died. It was then that he started to scream.

The young boy who was hunting rabbits in the forest was not sure whether it was the mother’s last cry or the child’s first that alerted his youthful ears. He turned suddenly, sensing the possible danger, his eyes searching for an animal that was so obviously in pain. He edged toward the noise cautiously; the scream had now turned to a whine, but it still did not sound like any animal he knew. The young hunter moved stealthily toward the river, where the strange noise came from, running from tree to tree, never stay in the open, his father had taught him. Suddenly he saw the woman, with her dress above her waist, her bare legs splayed wide apart. He had never seen a woman like that before. There, lying between the woman’s legs, was the body of a small, damp, pink animal, attached only by something that looked like rope. The young hunter dropped his freshly skinned rabbits and collapsed on his knees beside the little creature.

He gazed for a long, stunned moment and then turned his eyes toward the woman, immediately regretting the decision. She was already blue with cold; her tired twenty-three-year old face looked middle-aged to the boy; he did not need to be told that she was dead. He picked up the slippery little body and then he became aware that mother and child were inseparable because of the slimy rope. He had watched the birth of a lamb a few days earlier and he tried to remember. Yes, that’s what the shepherd had done, but dare he, with a child? The whining had stopped and he sensed that a decision was now urgent. He unsheathed his knife, hesitating only for a moment, cut the rope close to the child’s body. Blood flowed freely from the severed ends. Then what had the shepherd done when the lamb was born? He had tied a knot to stop the blood. He pulled some long grass out of the earth and hastily tied a crude knot in the cord. Then he took the child in his arms. He rose slowly from his knees, leaving behind him three dead rabbits and a dead woman who had given birth to this child. Before finally turning his back on the mother, he put her legs together and pulled her dress down over her knees. It seemed to be the right thing to do. “Holy GOD” he said aloud, the first thing he always said when he had done something very good or very bad. He wasn’t yet sure which this was.

The young hunter then ran toward the cottage where he knew his mother would be cooking supper, waiting only for his rabbits. With a family of eight to feed, she needed at least three rabbits. Sometimes he caught a duck or a goose, tonight he had caught a different animal, and when he reached the cottage, the young hunter dared not let go of his prize even with one hand, so he kicked at the door with his bare foot until his mother opened it. Silently, he held out his offering to her. She made no immediate move to take the creature from him but stood, one hand on her breast, gazing at the wretched sight! “Holy GOD,” she said, the boy stared up at his mother’s face for some sign of anger or pleasure. Her eyes were showing a tenderness the boy had never seen in them before. He knew then that the thing he had done must be really good.
“Where did you find him?”, she asked.
“Down by the river,” he said.
“And the mother?”, she prodded further.
“Dead.”
She sighed.
“Quickly, run and tell your father what has happened and you must take him to the dead mother.”
The mother closed the door with her shoulder and called out for her eldest child, a girl, to put the pot on the stove. She sat down on a wooden stool, unbuttoned her bodice and pushed a tired nipple toward the little puckered mouth. “And to what purpose?” the woman said out aloud, tucking a shawl around her arm and the child together. “Poor little mite, you’ll be dead by morning.”
Her husband thundered into the cottage and spat. “To the cholera with him. We have enough children of our own, six at my last count.” The woman pretended not to hear him as she retorted “A guest in the house is GOD in the house”. She stroked the dark, thin hairs on the baby’s head and she added “What shall we call him?” the woman asked, looking up to her husband. He shrugged, “who cares? Let him go to his grave nameless.”

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Planet earth
Somewhere in a developed-country

The doctor picked up the newborn child by the ankles and slapped its bottom. The infant started to cry.

This hospital caters mainly for to those who suffer from the diseases of the rich, and on selected occasions allows itself to deliver the new rich. In this hospital, the mothers don’t scream, and certainly they don’t give birth fully dressed.

A young man was pacing up and down outside the delivery room; inside, two obstetricians and the family doctor were on duty. This father did not believe in taking risks with his first-born. The two obstetricians would be paid a large fee merely to stand by and witness events. One of them who wore evening clothes under his long white coat had a dinner party to attend later, but he could not afford to absent himself from this particular birth. The woman was driven to the hospital that morning by her husband, she had calculated that day to be the twenty-eighth day of her ninth month. She had started labour soon after breakfast, and the husband had been assured that the delivery would not take place until much later in the evening. The father was a very disciplined man and saw no reason why a birth should interrupt his well-ordered life. Nevertheless, he continued to pace in the lobby. Nurses and young doctors hurried past him, aware of his presence, their voices lowered when they were near him and raised again when they were out of his earshot. He didn’t notice because everybody had always treated him this way. Most of them had never seen him in person, but all of them knew who he was.
If it was a boy, a son, he would probably build the new children’s wing that the hospital so badly needed. He had already built a library and a school. The expectant father tried to read the evening paper, looking over the words but not taking in the meaning. He was nervous, even worried. It would never do for them [he looked upon almost everyone as "them"] to realize that it had to be a boy, a boy who would one day take his place as president and chairman of his company. Again he picked up one of the newspaper and saw the headline. The worst earthquake ever in the history of his country. Devastation everywhere, at least four thousand people dead, others would be mourning. He hated that. It would take away from the birth of his son. People would remember that something else had happened on this day.

It never occurred to him, not even for a moment, that the baby might be a girl. He turned to the financial pages and checked the stock market: it had dropped a few points; that damned earthquake had taken €200,000 off the value of his own holdings in the bank, but as his personal fortune remained comfortably over €32,000,000, it was going to take more than a world earthquake to move him. He could now live on the interest, so the €32,000,000 capital would always remain intact, ready for his son, still unborn. He continued to pace and pretend to read the newspaper.

The obstetrician in evening dress pushed through the swinging doors of the delivery room to report the news. He felt he must do something for his large unearned fee and he was the most suitable dressed for the announcement. The men stared at each other for a moment. The doctor also felt a bit nervous, but he wasn’t going to show it in front of the father.
“Congratulations, sir, you have a son, a fine-looking little boy.”
What silly remarks people make when a child is born, the father thought; how could he be anything but little? The news hadn’t yet dawned on him, a son. He almost thanked GOD.

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With the illustrations above, I only but wonder what the true definition of DESTINY is. I can’t fathom how on earth certain course of action occur without our premonition. Who coined out the phrase: “all men are born equal?” Surely if he reads this piece, he would have a rethink!

I know the atheists will send me tonnes of mail shortly after reading this piece to confirm their “gullible assumption” that GOD doesn’t exist! Far from that school of thought, [is that worthy to be called a "school of thought?"], I am of the strong personal conviction that the whole system of the universe is definitely being programmed by GOD, if a balanced system had existed since the stone age, and is still flourishing till present day, then I have no problem whatsoever in believing in, and worshipping, the “super-natural force” keeping the system balanced. Some folks will have to lead, while some other will have to follow; someone has to die while another has to be given birth to; someone has to be the master while another has to be the slave; someone has to buy while another has to sell; someone has to be rich while the other has to be poor; someone has to be the sinner while the other has to be the preacher; someone has to be the male while the other has to be the female. And with that symbiotic pairing, GOD has kept the human race [as well as the animal race, is there anything like that? I think we call "them": the animal kingdom] in this balanced universe. ALL GLORY AND ADORATION BE TO GOD!

The holy scripture says, with prayer, “DESTINIES” could change. I pray our destinies make us all grateful to the CREATOR.

you can reach me via @sama_on_point

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What is it with “Latino” holidays? You always end up singing cheesy ballads in a bar somewhere – well, I do.

Greece is lovely, but Brazil is really where the heart of cheese lies. I saw the real “Dancing Queen” last week in the Rio Sambadrome. Like a champagne cork, she fizzed out of an oversized hibiscus growing out of a fantasia of angels and hummingbirds. In true carnival style, this “diamante” apparition also had a peacock fan of feathers in seven shades of bright that perfectly matched her eyeshadow. How do they do it? Every samba school float, dancer, musician, sequin, is a show stopper! I made sure that I had box seats right in front of the runway, so that I could smell every showgirl’s perfume and catch every tiny detail on her shoes.

As a holiday destination, Rio de Janeiro has everything for everyone. It’s almost impossible to top the natural beauty and cultural pursuits, but what really makes it one of my favourite hotspots is the people. Their natural charm and zest for life is so contagious you simply can’t help having fun all the time, because they really are champions at having fun! My fun started on Easter’s eve. The word on every local’s lips come Easter is “revellion”. It all unravels on the Copacabana beach. Every year, rain or shine, over one million people line up on the four kilometre stretch of sand on Copacabana to welcome Easter.

I started celebrating at noon with passion fruit caipirinha, in a bohemian suburb of Santa Teresa. I planned to explore the neighbourhood afterwards, but I lost my legs after caipirinha number five, so I swaggered into the Hotel Santa Teresa Spa hoping that a bit of spit and polish might make me sparkle for the big night ahead. I emerged before sunset, beaming, draped in a white kanga, champagne and sandals in hand, ready to hit the beach and cheer on Easter. Behind us a Brazilian rock concert heaved from Copacabana Palace. All around, cariocas and tourists, like me, in their white threads sipped champagne, lit candles and threw flowers into the ocean. Candomble [Brazilian Voodoo] worshippers chanted in circles. I stared fascinated at a man, his eyes rolled back while he writhed and convulsed in a trance. It is believed that in a Candomble trance, the ancestral spirits advise the human medium – I wondered if this man knows our plight back in Nigeria.

Midnight brought 11 ferry boats that saluted us with a pageant of fireworks. The words “Feliz Ano Easter” [Happy Easter] exploded into the air and kisses and hugs abounded. I took a leaf out of the Brazilian “bible of laid back charm” and convinced myself that I needed to spend the next two days on an island paradise. So I flew to the Brazilian Atlantic island of Fernando de Noronha. As remote as the Brazilian Atlantic islands are, they are quite easy to fly, I landed on the island in the dark, nursing tired feet and a hangover!

I woke up the next morning and sprinted to the beach, a secluded indigo bay framed by a monolithic limestone stack. Breakfast was the perfect combination of A-grade coffee and fruit. I gorged myself on the papaya and a Brazilian super-berry from the Amazon. It’s best with ice cream and is a great hangover pick-me-up. Still finding the beauty and seclusion of the island surreal, I practically choked into my coffee cup when my host Joab told me that there were more dolphins and turtles than people on this island! I did manage to find a friend by lunchtime, luckily, a Nigerian student called @JOHNBELOVED. He had come to Fernando to surf and explore the Brazilian girls in their bikinis all the way from Nigeria, instantly,I made a mental calculation of how much his allowance back in Nigeria would be, his parents must belong to the echelons of ruling elites! A car seemed like a good option for getting around the island; we rented a buggy and I tried to navigate in broken Italian and Portuguese while @JOHNBELOVED negotiated the steep gravel roads in our rented buggy. Our first stop was the village Remedios, where we spent the rest of the day chilling on Baia do Sueste, a small cove which I rated nine out of ten, but @JOHNBELOVED gave it a six because there were no waves.

The archipelago of Fernando de Noronha comprises 21 islands, there are 14 beaches to explore on the Brazilian side of the coast and seven on the African side. At dawn on our second day, we waited at Baia do Golfinhos [Dolphin Bay] in anticipation of the Spinner dolphins. Islanders had boasted the night before in the bar that they had on countless occasions seen 2000 dolphins in the bay at a time. Access to the beach is prohibited, so we sat on a hill as close to the beach as possible and waited. They eventually arrived, school after school, jumping, twirling, diving and skiing. A wild aquatic circus! Only our hunger could tear us away from this rare sight. Upon filling my tummy at the hotel, I retired to my room while @JOHNBELOVED made do by flirting outrageously with the Agbani Darego look-alike receptionist. I got a good sense of the island’s history from the Memorial Museum. In 2001, Fernando became a world heritage site and to date is one of the most successful examples of ecotourism in the world. The islands are heavily protected by conservationists, who restrict the numbers of tourists, so it is not surprising that it is one of the best dive spots in the world. My first taste of the abundant marine life. Was at the Bahia do Sancho, a snorkelling bonanza! Crystal water way too clear for any red rock crab, clownfish or stingray to escape unnoticed. Another snorkelling hotspot was Praia do Atalia, a rock pool forming a natural aquarium at low tide. We had to plan ahead for this one, as only 30 people are allowed there per day and sunblock is strictly prohibited. The chemicals in the sunblock threaten the pool habitat, I was enjoying the sea so much I decided to take my snorkelling exploits to the next level and signed up for a diving course with Atlantis Divers.

My first scuba dive was awesome! While dangling over a reef and wrestling with my BCD, a goliath turtle bee-lined right up to me. His black eyeballs curiously scanning my goggles. I froze, transfixed by his primordial shell and the fractal of scales framing his sickle-shaped mouth. I wanted to believe that he was smiling at me and just before I thought our noses might touch he dived gracefully into the coral bed below. I spun around and swam straight to our dive master.

On my last day, we celebrated our scuba dive victory at the Dog Bar by toasting by toasting every aquatic creature we had logged, with a fresh “dog” cocktail, all drinks at the Dog Bar are named after dogs. I tried not to stray too far from my cocktail of choice but @JOHNBELOVED insisted on plying me with Pit Bulls. He teased me about my “ghen-ghen” moment with the turtle and we saluted the sunrise with songs and the island boogie and a combination of samba [not WIZKID's samba but the real samba!].

Needless to say, I left the island in the same way I arrived, HUNG OVER, with no regrets, everything was just fine or, as they say in Brazil: Todo Bem! And then again, I remembered I had a flight to catch to Nigeria, damn!

The MUEZZIN’s call to prayer were audible from a distant land. His summons to prayer wafts across the street, echoing down deserted buildings lined with crumbling ruins. “Allahu Akbar”!….”Allahu Akbar”! The muezzin’s call jolts me back to life, then I realised what an extraordinary DREAM it was! Sluggishly, I turned and changed my sleeping posture, before grudgingly getting up to get dressed for the short walk early morning walk in the cold to the mosque!

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint

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RAPE – to force somebody to have sex with you when they do not want to by threatening them or using violence.

The first case of documented rape remains unclear, as historians have been unable to pinpoint the commencement of this devilish act of barbarism which is animalistic in nature and inhuman in all ramifications. Rape is a type of sexual assault involving sexual intercourse, it is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person’s consent. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, abuse of authority or with a person who is unconscious, incapacitated or below the legal age of consent.

Sexual violence, and rape in particular, is considered the most under reported violent crime. It is estimated that 91% of rape victims are female and 9% are male, with 99% of the offenders being male. Rape by strangers is usually less common than rape by persons the victim knows. Victims of rape can be severely traumatised, in addition to psychological harm resulting from the act, rape may cause physical injury or have additional effects on the victim, such as acquiring of a sexually transmitted infection or becoming pregnant.

In clear simpler terms, if as a boss at your workplace, you have used your office to unjustly sleep with that staff of yours, that’s rape!
Brother, if you slept with that girl at the club who’s out of control because she’s had a few extra alcoholic bottles, that’s rape!
Uncle, if you forcefully sleep with that 14year old niece of yours, that’s rape!

Growing up in an estate, I was shielded, to a considerable extent, from the regular atrocities on the streets of Lagos by the serene environment of the Amuwo Odofin Housing Estate, Mile 2, GOD bless the administration of Alhaji Lateef Jakande for constructing such edifice across the state. In the estate, we lived a life of orderliness, well planned landscape with adequate recreational and economic centres. It was in this orderliness that I experienced the first rape case of my life, well below my 10th birthday, the ensuring gossip that followed, the uproar generated from the sad incidence, the pandemonium the estate was thrown into, but shockingly, the stigmatisation that followed those two lovely sisters after the unfortunate incidence really shook me. Another problem for African and Nigerian women is that society frowns at rape victims instead of the rapists themselves. The girl who is known to have been raped is gossiped about and blamed in one way or the other for having allowed herself to be raped! This is mainly why most women would rather suffer in silence than speak out. Mothers of girls that have been raped also rarely take the matter to the police, reason being that they want to spare the girl the psychological trauma. As a young chap, I expected the public to show them real love, but alas they were condemned for being responsible for the case due to their indecent dressing, back then I didn’t get it, now I still don’t get why the blame should be on the victims? Didn’t Adam and Eve live nude in the Garden of Eden, was there any reported case of rape in that garden?

Apportioning blames to victims of rape is tantamount to blaming a folk for the burglary of his/her house because he didn’t lock his gates. I condemn indecent dressing in its entirety, it should never be enough reason for men to attack and forcefully gain carnal knowledge of a defenceless innocent lady! How do you explain the rape case that happened earlier in the year in New Delhi, India, where 5 students reportedly abducted, raped and murdered a 23-year old female student? Back home, in Nigeria, sometime around August/September 2012, the national tabloids and the social media were awash with the famous rape and murder case involving Cynthia Osokogu, the daughter of a retired army officer. And many untold cases, shattering and probably ruining the future of young beautiful ladies?
Social, economic and security concerns is not enough reason to rape a minor or any female for that matter. Women are the back bone of the society and should not be disrespected in that manner. If females are being molested without justice dealt out to the perpetrators, then what hope is there for the future?

Everytime I look into the eyes of rape victims, I feel hapless, the pain radiating from their hearts, the disappointments evident in their eyes, the trauma they’ve been through clearly visible on their foreheads, the mockery from friends and foes alike, has always brought back the childhood memories of the first rape victim in my neighbourhood. One thing remains constant, rape victims, from time immemorial, are always defenceless and helpless, the society has always been stigmatising against them, rape cases are always under-reported and it will continue to exist until we, as a people, stand up to educate ourselves against the ills of rape! We need to help in encouraging victims to speak out and reduce the stigma attached to victims of sexual abuse and rape. We also need a platform for informing society about the soaring scourge of sexual abuse, especially as it relates to young girls and women in general.

Rape is punishable by life imprisonment, or so the Nigerian law says. According to section 282 and 283 of the Penal code, any person charged with rape or attempted rape, with sufficient proof from the victim, will be given life imprisonment and a fine. According to a legal luminary who wants to remain anonymous, “rape cases are under the jurisdiction of the Upper Area Court and the High court, but those who find the courage to report cases of rape do not bring sufficient proof to the court. The court cannot convict a person by mere words. Immediately after the incident, the victim is supposed to go the hospital and do certain tests and bring the result of the tests to the law court to prove her case, but most ladies are so traumatised that it takes some time before they get the courage to report the case, and some of them do not go for tests.”, she concludes.

Women need to stand up for themselves otherwise rapists will continue to escape prosecution when there is a law that can dispense due punishment, because what would be the need of a law if there is no one to make use of it? 

Do you think adequate punishment is being meted out to rape criminals?

Do you think rape is given the appropriate attention and coverage required by the press?

Kindly drop your comments, thanks.
#StopRAPE!
#KickOutRape!
@sama_on_point

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint

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Advanced Oxford Dictionary defines LOVE as “a strong feeling of affection for somebody that you are sexually attracted to” while the same dictionary defines LUST as “a very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved”. I find it extremely difficult to comprehend how folks [especially males] argue that there’s a very thin line between “love” and “lust”. I’m of the strong personal conviction that there exist a very wide golf between the two. The only common word between them seems to be the desire for sex! I know the #teamVirgin lovers will argue this out!

Either you’ve been “screwed” [got "screwed"] before or not, no soul on earth can argue against the strong urge for sex, except perhaps #PopeFrancisBergoglio, be it in your dream, at cold nights or at lonely periods, at one point in time, we all get horny!

@ronkizzle93, a friend of mine has been dating this lucky dude for about 3 years, each time I see them together, my mind keeps wandering why on earth am not in his shoes, and with every tale of the adversity in her affair, I pray she just ends it with him and bunk in with me. This time around, her tale got me furious at first but again, I felt sorry for her, here her out: “I have been dating this guy, @zanga_on_point for about 3 years, he’s been very good to me, he satisfies my wants, emotionally, financially, sexually and materially, he’s definitely not the richest dude on campus but he does his best to make other girls filled with jealousy/envy for his girlfriend. But recently, things took a twist for our affair, I am not sure if the twist is a good/bad twist though. I met another guy, @Ay_bkini, whom I have been crushing on since my first year on campus, he is a finalist now, he’s tall, fair, handsome, your typical club boy who rows with the best crew and lounges with the best cliques on campus, and definitely, he’s a “player” too! I just couldn’t turn him down when he finally gave me his attention, please don’t be too harsh on me, my emotions had been yearning for him for years and I had no other choice than to grab the opportunity to have him”.

Listening to her story got me furious at first, but again, one has to respect the fact that emotions could make the strongest fall, just ask the biblical Samson!

“My boyfriend, @zanga_on_point, has been close to perfect, but since I met @Ay_bkini, I have realised he isn’t posh enough for me although he spends steadily on me. My boyfriend is about 4 years younger than @Ay_bkini and due to his youth, he’s so much into me compared to @Ay_bkini, but sometimes, a girl needs the experienced dude around. Somehow, have got a hunch that @Ay_bkini just wants to “play” me. Now I’ve broken up with my boyfriend, @zanga_on_point, and @Ay_bkini isn’t asking me out properly and he’s slept with me about 5 times, yeah 5 times I think! *bursts into tears*”

At this juncture, I felt sorry for her and a bit angry with her for allowing @Ay_bkini get a taste of her “honey pot”. Damn, that @Ay_bkini though, #sharp #badt guy, he’s gotten one over me now, but anybody who knows him should tell him he has crossed my path, the battle line has been drawn, don’t get me wrong, am not defending @ronkizzle93, am hurt because his signature got there before mine!

“My dilemma right now is if: I can make @Ay_bkini love me so much, although I’m sure he is a “player” because now that he has slept with me, he doesn’t seem all over me like he was when he hasn’t seen my panties! Or if I should go back to my ex-boyfriend, @zanga_on_point, who is still begging me profusely, although I wouldn’t be comfortable with him because he’s not posh enough for me. Please I need your candid advise not castigation. Thanks” – she concludes.

Without much ado, I will appreciate if you all can drop your comment, she’s seriously in a dilemma as she’s weeping before me. But the only question in my head right now is: “is this love or lust?”
One thing is certain, love exists with one of the 2 guys and lust exists with the other.

“GREAT things we have done; GREATER things we shall do”
@sama_on_point

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint