THE LAST CONFESSION

Hello hi,

It’s been a while; very busy year already but I trust you have been good. I thought I would share a story with you before the month of February ends (I cannot believe how quickly the year is going!). My last Bellanaija post can be found here and today my writing is titled:

THE LAST CONFESSION

picture source:www.calledtocommunion.com

It was the season of lent, a period of solemnity for Catholics. Adaobi was a staunch catholic or at least she came from such a family. Therefore, for her, this was a time to be in a ‘state of grace’ and holiness. Although she was a regular church-goer, she felt guilty for not going for confessions for over a year. The problem was not that she could not find the time to pour out her sins or a priest to absolve her from them but she did not feel comfortable revealing some of her deepest secrets to the parish priest, Father Joseph. Father Joseph was a nice and humble priest but he knew her family and thought the best of them. He also thought of Adaobi as a responsible, charitable, young woman with a strong faith in the Lord. It was his high regard for her that had made him entrust her with more responsibilities in the church including leading the Sunday morning mass readings, Bible studies on Wednesdays and counting the offering money from the congregation. She was also a member of other renowned church groups as well as the choir even though her voice was quite below mediocre. Father Joseph always sang her praises to his parishioners and even referred other young women to Adaobi whenever they seemed to be going astray from the Lord.

While one could have thought that these actions would have made Adaobi feel more at home in the parish, they almost had the opposite effect on her. She found herself pretending when she did not want to, attending church service where she was barely paying attention and receiving Holy Communion even when she did not feel worthy to do so. She only hoped that the Lord would understand and not punish her too hard for her actions. She desperately longed for a confession as she had been carrying some heavy sins in her heart for over a year but could not bring herself to tell the parish priest. It was not that she thought her sins were unforgivable but she felt that her reputation was at stake in the church. Yes, she knew that priests were not allowed to judge people making confessions or even tell another person about them but she still felt that he would not see her in the same way if he knew what she was capable of. And so she had made up her mind to never confess to Father Joseph unless she was about to die and he was the only available priest.

The week before Easter came and her prayers seemed to be answered. Father Joseph had travelled to attend to some urgent family matters and a priest from a different church was in charge of Mass that day. There had been other guest priests visiting her church parish in the past but Father Joseph had also been present always and so would still be the one doing the confessions. This day was different as he was away and this new priest, who looked quite old, announced at the end of the church service that he would wait behind for anyone who wanted to confess. He was a funny, elderly man who claimed that he was partially deaf and so would not even hear most of the confessors, which was a good incentive for them to come forward. Adaobi decided to take this long awaited opportunity and sat behind in church after the service was over.

She was the first on the queue but she decided that she would go last because she had a lot to say and assumed that the new priest would give her a long list of things to do as penance for her sins. She remembered long ago when she had heard about some priests asking people to cut grasses or do hard labour as an act of penance. She did not mind and was willing to do anything to atone for her sins. Her only prayer was that the priest would not ask her for details of anything that she was going to tell him. Her turn quickly came and she went into the confession room.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned” she started while he began his prayer.

 “It is now 18 months since my last confession.” She paused, waiting for a reaction but got none and so she continued.

“Since my last confession, I have not been very trusting in the Lord. I have told several lies and I have been disobedient to my parents.” She had decided to start with the lesser sins.

“I have also fornicated, not once, or twice or thrice. Actually, I have fornicated a lot especially last year with my boyfriend.” She took a deep breath before she concluded her confession.

“For these sins I have confessed and the ones that I have not (she whispered) and the ones I cannot remember, I am truly sorry.”

 “Are you still together? You and your boyfriend” The priest asked.

“No, we have broken up now.” Adaobi replied, hoping that he would ask her no more about the topic.

“It is good that you have ended your ungodly relationship and returned to God. The good Lord has forgiven you so try not to enter such relationships again in the future.” He said.

The priest then gave her some short prayers for her penance to her surprise and then she was asked to say an act of contrition which she did. Afterwards, he prayed for her sins to be absolved and permitted her to go.

Just as she was about to leave, she added in a low voice “Oh, I also had to abort his baby which I was carrying after we broke up.” She paused and she heard the priest grunt although he did not say anything. She took his silence as a permission for her to continue.

“I also stole some money from the church offering to carry out the abortion.” The priest was silent.

“I am very sorry for that too.” She said.

He remained silent.

She hoped that he was not annoyed with her for almost starting a new confession after finishing one. After a few minutes of silence, she assumed that his partial deafness had returned and he probably had not heard her. So she repeated the latter sins a bit louder but there was still no response. It was then that she looked closer at him and noticed that he was no longer breathing. The new priest had died during her confession! Adaobi was confused; she ran out into the church but no other person was left there since she had been the last one to go in for confession. She did not want to be caught in the middle of a scene in the church and so she ran away. On her way home, she wondered if her sins had given the priest a heart attack and killed him but most importantly, she wondered if all her previous sins had been forgiven because she knew that she would never confess those ones again.

Thank you for reading and as usual, please leave your comments below and kindly share with friends. Have a blessed week and follow me on: 

Twitter: vivio_gogo

IG: ugochiukah

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Hello Hi,

Happy new year to you all. 2015 was a blessed year and I pray that 2016 will be greater. I am thankful to God, my family and you all for contributing in making an awesome one.

No matter what you went through in 2015, there are many reasons to be thankful and happy because:

For every rice without meat that you ate, some had no food at all

For the Christmas new dress that you could not get, some are naked

For the relationship breakups, some are dying in marriages

For the weight gain you hate; some are looking for flesh

For the horrible singing voices, some are dumb

For the eye glasses you have to wear; some have no sight

For every failed hot selfie, some have no cameras

For every hairline-loss gelled in front; some are completely bald

For every rejection, some could not even apply

For every argument, some only speak to themselves

And for those that have an annoying family member, well family is everything so deal with it!

So my prayer for you this year is:

May your tears be turned into smiles,

Smiles be turned into laughter,

Heartbreak turned into strength,

Dreams into reality,

And Hope into certainty.

So please continue to follow my stories, comment, share and have a happy life this year filled with love and great opportunities. Thank you again and happy weekend!

Twitter: vivio_gogo

IG: ugochiukah

A CHRISTMAS TALE

Hello hi,

Merry Christmas to you all. I hope you are having a lovely weekend; my previous bella naija post is here. As, the year is drawing to an end, I wish you all a joyful vacation and peace. I have a new post for you today, so enjoy and please leave your comments below. Thank you!

A CHRISTMAS TALE

Going for vigil mass yesterday and singing “O come all ye faithful” along with the choir made me realize how much I had grown over the years and how Christmas celebration had changed for me. After mass, I began to reminisce about how I used to spend Christmas when I was younger. Back then, we would go to our home town (village) for about two weeks. We did not have a choice as my father always threatened to lock up ‘his’ house and take the key. So grudgingly, my siblings and I would pack our bags for the trip. Our reluctance to travel was not because we did not like the village but because we did not see the point of leaving our lives and friends and going away for so long to see people that we barely knew. The more we tried to explain our reasoning, the more my father resisted. To him, that was even a better reason to go – so that we would get to know our long-lost relatives even more! And so every year, we had the same arguments and ended up travelling to the village.

The first day of arrival usually involved having visitors, coming around to welcome you back home. They basically asked all of us the same questions in our local language – how are you? How have you been? How is your family (which they could already see by themselves)? How are your brothers? How are your sisters? (As if these were not part of the term ‘family’); to which we always replied “good, thank you.” The next day would involve cleaning up the house and cooking as well as more visitors; some of whom had already visited the day before. Of course, they would resume the usual questions while we struggled to get some work done. By Christmas day, we would be tired from all the cooking, cleaning and guest entertainment such that my siblings and I would fall asleep in church. Sometimes, we would sneak to my grand-uncle’s house which was a few blocks away from the church to take a nap and return back to the church before my parents noticed. Thankfully, the Christmas service was always very long because of annual church harvest and so we always made it back on time. After church, we would even so many visitors follow us back home directly and so, we used to spend our time serving meals whilst my father would tell his friends how happy we were to be back home. And we, the children, always had to smile and nod when he made such statements to the guests.

On Boxing Day was when we were allowed to go out. My father would wake us up early in the morning to have breakfast and go out to greet our relatives and practically, the entire village. His exact words would be “go out and do not come back until evening. Visit everyone and feel free to pluck fruits. Everybody here shares…there’s no place like home!” Ironically, we were almost never allowed to go out for more than a couple of hours in the city so my siblings and I wished that we had such freedom in the city. We had to obey orders as once again my father would threaten to lock the village house if we did not leave immediately after meals. And so we were forced to go and watched the inter-villages soccer competitions, masquerade performances and some traditional dance. We stopped occasionally at trusted relatives’ houses for lunch, dinner or some snacks along the way but when it came to fruits, any tree of interest that we saw, we would ask for permission from whomever was present in the compound and then pluck some to eat.  

It was during one of these fruit picking that we came across a nice Udara (Agbalumo) tree one year. My cousins and I had wandered into a compound that housed the tree, so rich with ripened fruits. We were surprised at our luck at finding such a fortune as more often than not, this particular tree type would be lacking its fruits because the other villagers would have plucked them before we got there. We did not hesitate to ask the boy standing by the gate if we could have some and began to help ourselves immediately after he said yes. It was on our way out, chatting excitedly, our hands and pockets filled with the fruit, that we that we heard a woman’s voice screaming. We turned around to find an old woman running after us and asking us to stop. My first instinct was to run but I held back as I knew my cousins would not. The woman came to us and started talking so fast in Ibo that I could barely understand what she was saying. One of my cousins, Ezi, whispered to me; basically, the woman was saying that she wanted her fruit back. We were surprised as we had never been asked to return any food before but sadly and slowly we emptied our hands and pockets. She also inspected us to be sure that we had dropped all of them before she let us go.

All our initial excitement was turned into disappointment and we recounted our experience to one of our uncles. We described where her compound was and he laughed and told us that she never allowed anyone take anything from her house and that she did not have any friends. It was then that we understood why her tree was still filled up with fruits; we thought about how stingy she was! Just before we went back to bed, Ezi took me aside and showed me an udara fruit.

“Where did you get it from?!” I almost screamed.

“Shh! From that woman’s tree. I hid it”

“Where? But she searched us…”

“Do you want or not?!” Ezi snapped impatiently.

I did not have time to think; I quickly agreed and I must say that was the best tasting udara I have ever had in my life. I was thankful to Ezi for our escapade and we vowed to keep our secret for the rest of our stay in the village.

So it was adventures like this and many others that usually made my travel memorable as well the huge collection of interesting novels in my uncle’s library including ‘the pacesetters’. Now I am grown, I miss such adventures and the other incentives I used to receive during this festive period such as new Christmas clothes, shoes and even new hair! So as I sat in church this year, while I was thankful for the year so far, and also for the years gone by, I secretly wished that I was wearing a new Christmas dress with new matching shoes.

*udara - chrysophyllum albidum

Thank you for reading and following my blog and bella naija stories all year. Have a happy Christmas holiday and catch lots of fun. Best wishes always!

Twitter: vivio_gogo

IG: ugochiukah

BIRTHDAY JOLLY BY ETOH CHINEMERE

Hello Hi,

Xmas is coming and I can only help but think about how fast the year has gone by. I hope your year went as good as you hoped for and even better!

My last bellanaija article can be found here. Today, I am posting a feature from My. Etoh, a talented writer (happy belated birthday by the way :) ). So please, as usual, enjoy and share with your friends and feel free to leave your comments below in the comment sections.

BIRTHDAY JOLLY

All my life, I have always looked for a time and an age where I would invite my friends over for a chill out or for a party. All my birthdays starts and ends with wishes, and wishes, and more wishes, and worse case scenarios, members of my family forget I was even celebrating. It’s been this way so much that I now considered it a ‘culture’, my way of life, until my last birthday.

I had hopped on an okada* with my weight pressing hard on the seat as I landed my buttocks against the wet chair. I knew I couldn’t get any wetter than I already was, and even though I knew I couldn’t hide from the rain, I was sure to make the okada man pay for my sins. So I shrugged behind him and made sure no part of me was seen by this bad-belle rain.

Sometimes I wondered how these okada-men drove in the rain, I wondered how they saw the road, and worse still, they also drive in same conditions at night. I knew it was extremely dangerous, at least the risk of slipping and landing inside a ditch was high; but for once I had never cared. I had been riding on this means of transportation all my life, it somehow was a part of me, and sometimes I wished I could travel on bikes to the village. That was how complicated my okada life was.

Just about ten seconds into the journey, my phone started to ring hysterically. I was pissed especially because I knew how important the call was, but I couldn’t answer it while on the bike, and under the rain. It was Uncle Ugonna’s call, and I was sure he was calling to know my location at the moment. He had promised to make my birthday a memorable one, and an hour back he had called to tell me to come and take twenty thousand Naira, ‘so at least you can arrange some drinks with your guys’ he had said and then dropped the call.

That money at this moment seemed like the whole Nigerian budget to me. I could swear I had lost touch of such kind of cash, and although I knew he was capable of doing ten times much more than he already did, I decided to accept this with both hands and my legs.

“Young man, where are you?” was the first thing I heard even before the phone reached my ear.

“I’m close to your house sir” I shouted on top of my voice ensuring he heard every bit of what I said.

“Hmmmm…ok…if I don’t see you in the next five minutes, I’m going out, and I would leave with the cash” he hung up immediately the last word dropped.

If there was one thing I knew about my uncle, it was that he never joked with timing, and he meant whatever he said over the phone.

And to ensure I got a happy ending over my uncle’s search for discipline, I tapped the okada-man on his right shoulder, and said loudly, “kai malam, fire this okada!”

And without even letting the words sink into his ears, he responded “yowa mutumina.” He seemed happy and over-joyed after I gave the command, and truthfully, he started to fly. I knew he was over-speeding, I knew it was dangerous considering the weather condition and that it was night, I also knew that if something happens, we both might not be spared; but despite all this knowledge, I still couldn’t stop or slow him down. I needed to get that cash, I needed to party and eat with my friends, I needed to buy a present for myself and most of all, I needed to have cash. All these together made me the biggest fool at that time. I was a fool on my birthday, and yes, even though I now understand the gravity of my actions at that time, I still fail to understand how I survived the crash that came our way less than a minute after I had urged the okada-man to end our existence.

I woke up some days later with all manner of wires penetrating into my skin, and I was bandaged like Lazarus in the tomb. People from all works of life had come to see me in the hospital, but uncle Ugonna. I’d like to think he hasn’t yet heard the unfortunate news his calls brought about. I was crushed and bed-ridden, but I could still swear that I needed that money. People came and stayed and went, but no one’s attention was most needed like that of my assassin Uncle. I looked out for him amongst the dozens that trooped in to offer their heartfelt and warmth pity for me. I didn’t feel any pain, and even if I did, I was so less worried about it, all I still needed was that cash that prompted all this.

*okada - Motorbike for public transportation

yowa mutumina – okay, my friend

Enjoy the rest of your week. x

Twitter: @vivio_gogo

IG: @ugochiukah

PMS – PREMENSTRUAL SYNDROME

Hello hi,

It’s been a short while but I trust you have been good. My last Bellanaija post can be found here.

Today I’m gonna be writing about:

PMS – Pre-Menstrual Syndrome

Okay, so I am obviously not new to menstruation (given my age) but I have definitely been ignorant about many things concerning this topic. The good news is that I learn something new every month. For me, PMS is the latest knowledge that I have acquired and it happened so because of certain events which I am about to write about that made me open up my heart to a little research.

For a long time, I had always noticed a change in my emotions and activities just a few days before my period would start but all these while, I just did not know that there was a name for these circles of events.  A specific change for me was fatigue – I would find myself yawning constantly and sleeping like I were a pregnant woman and no matter how much coffee I swallowed, it would make no difference. In fact, it would seem as if I had been drinking warm milk to make me sleep even more. For me, this tired feeling was not much of a problem because anytime I could not explain why I was so tired from doing nothing productive, I would check my period calendar. So it was useful in the sense that it was a reminder of my period and so I could start making plans ahead such as buying new sanitary towels, reordering my prescriptions, arranging my underwear (lol) and then shopping for and cooking the food that I would eat the following week.

Like I said, I kind of appreciate the fatigue feeling, besides the fact that I get way less work done, because it helped me prepare. However, around my previous period season, another event that was quite strange happened. It was on a Monday; as usual I had packed my lunch, taken a shower and done my makeup before leaving for work. When I got to work, the first thing I did was head straight to the coffee shop to get my ‘milk’, as that was how it would seem to my body during that season. It was still early so the queue was short, thankfully! When I got to the counter, the friendly waitress smiled and took my order. She was as polite as always but I noticed that there was something different about her that day. You see, usually, she would make a comment about how she liked my look for the day and would laugh loudly or smile really broadly, or something along that line. The point is that she would always try to do something to start a conversation with me (which I often felt was unnecessary as I am almost never in the mood for small talks early in the morning), but I would respond nonetheless because she seemed like a nice person. However, this time she did not say anything and I just assumed that she had had a long weekend or was really busy although only 2 people were left on the queue.

I had already ignored my thoughts and was putting a lid over my cup when I saw her take a quick glance at me. The glance was so fast that I would not have noticed it if I were not a sharp babe. My heart skipped a bit as I suddenly suspected what had happened. I slowly raised my hands reaching for my hair and there it was, I had worn my hairnet to work! I have no idea of how it happened since I had stood in front of the mirror applying my makeup that morning. I was so embarrassed and tried to quickly remove the net as covertly as I could but I could not help thinking about how many people had seen me in that state that morning – the people on the coffee queue and all the people on the road that I had walked past on my way to work (yes, yes, I know that they don’t know me but still, they have eyes!). No wonder the waitress had not said anything about my beautiful African braids, as she liked to call them.

I took my drink and headed back to my office with my hairnet in my pocket. I wondered what I would have done if I had been in her shoes; would I have told her that her hairnet was on or just ignored it as she did? Nevertheless, I could not blame her for my own forgetfulness; I could only blame my hormonal changes and womanhood. I tried to console myself by saying to myself that my hairnet wasn’t as bad looking; it was one of the usual black knitted ones with spaces in between and so at least a part of my hair was still showing. I also thought about how it could have been worse; one of my aunts had once told me that she had mistakenly worn her wig cap (without the wig) to a big store before. So truly, my case was not the worst in history but I knew that henceforth I had to be more cautious during these periods.

So it was this experience of mine above along with a few others, that made me check my internet for the cause of my problems and then I came across the word ‘PMS’. From my research, PMS is caused by hormonal and chemical changes in the body and brain in preparation for menses during the menstrual cycle. PMS, apparently, can make you forgetful (just as in my hairnet case), get you emotional and give you crying spells (I experienced a really bad one that same period. The poor dude that I was crying to looked confused and helpless. I do not even remember why I was crying, that’s how petty the reason was but I continued uncontrollably for an hour). Other symptoms associated with this syndrome include tender breasts, food cravings, mood swings, poor concentration, and fatigue like I mentioned earlier. Depression, acne and pain are also common such that some people take medications for them. So if you are having any of these strange feelings or changes just before your period begins, fear not; you are not alone! However, do not hesitate to visit your doctor if you cannot help yourself.

A few personal tips that might be useful are:

·         Being aware – when you are aware of what is going on within you, then you may be more relaxed and comfortable and be in a better place of mind to plan. So take some time out and read about PMS and its associated symptoms.

·         Staying away from annoying people – so if you know people that are generally annoying, try to avoid them during this period since you are more likely to be irritable. You don’t want to find yourself yelling at someone in the office.

·         Eating healthy – Food cravings are common and so try to stock yourself and your environment with healthy foods and drinks like fruits so that once you feel like eating, you would be eating an apple instead of a chocolate bar which you might regret in the near future.

·         Lastly, enjoy the moment while it lasts – yup! While menstruation has its snags, remember that menopause is a different ball game.

I hope I have shared something useful today and please leave your comments below. Thank you and have a great week.

Twitter handle: @vivio_gogo

Instagram: @ugochiukah

PARISIAN TIME

Hello Hi,

I hope you are doing great. I'm back again with a new post from one of my trips. By the way, my last bellanaija article can be found here.

Enjoy the story below and as usual, please share your thoughts and this post. Cheers!

PARISIAN TIME

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Paris, France. I was very excited for various reasons – firstly, this was my first time in France or anywhere else in Europe outside the UK; secondly, I was travelling alone; and thirdly, I was looking forward to practising the little French that I had learnt over the years. Before leaving for my journey, I got many tips from a family friend who had lived in Paris for some years and I browsed the internet widely for ideas of places to visit. I had written down all the places that I wanted to visit, the foods I wanted to eat and the paths to cover within the city. The trip was an ambitious one because I was only spending 2 nights and 1 day in but I was enthusiastic that I would achieve most of the things on my list. So by the time I got on the plane, I had everything planned out. I was going to stay in a hostel close to Notre-Dame cathedral which was a perfect location for me.

 I arrived in Charles De Gaulle airport at night, got a map from the airport and made my way into the city room using the metro. I got out of St. Paul’s metro station, which was the closest to my destination, and I began to trace my way to the hostel.  The roads were so close to each other that before I knew it, I was lost (a trait not very uncommon with me). I found myself quite a distance away from where I was headed and it took me another twenty minutes to find my way back to the hostel. By the time I checked into the hostel, I was too tired to think or speak in French so I just replied ‘No’ when the receptionist asked me if I spoke any French. I took my room key and headed for my room. The room was a small and stuffy but clean place with a window that had a nice view. There were four beds downstairs and I saw there was a staircase leading upstairs but I did not climb up. I had been assigned to bed number 2 but to my surprise, someone else was already occupying it. I spoke to the lady on my bed; she claimed that we could stay anywhere and so she asked me to move upstairs so that she could stay close to her friend who was on the next bed. I was not having it because I was not ready to move my bag upstairs so I insisted that she moved to her assigned bed, which she complied with grudgingly. Just before going to bed, I wanted to charge my phone for a while. I had brought a UK adaptor only for me to realise that the sockets in France were different. I was surprised; how come nobody had mentioned that to me? At last, I had to turn to the girl on the next bed, the friend of the one I had chased away from my bed, to borrow her adaptor. You see, usually I may have felt so bad or ashamed for the way I treated her friend to ask her for her adaptor, but I was too tired to have any feelings at this point. I just plugged my phone in and fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning by 4am; I was still a little jetlagged. Normally, the time on my phone would have changed automatically whenever I traveled to the roaming time but this time around, it did not. Therefore, I had to keep doing the calculations of the current time in Paris in my head. I got up, took a shower and left the hostel by 5.30am to take a quick walk. I strolled down the streets, taking in the beauty of the city at sunrise and taking pictures as I walked down to the Bastille. It was indeed a very beautiful place! On my way back to my room, I found one of the Patisserie where I had planned to buy snacks from, a place called Miss Manon. So I stopped by to get some breakfast.

“Bonjour! Je voudrais un gâteau et croissant aux amandes… s'il vous plaît?” (I would like a cake and almond croissant) I began, as if I were fluent.

The sales girl smiled and responded so quickly that I found myself saying “Sorry?”

She looked at me with a smirk and then she replied in English, “What type of cake do you want?”

“Oh!” I said slightly embarrassed and then I pointed. She asked if I wanted anything else and I started my French again.

“Oui. Je voudrais une baguette traditionnelle aussi.” (I would like a traditional baguette)

She spoke again and this time, I apologised and told her that I could barely understand her and that I was still learning French. She smiled again and said she already knew that and from then onwards, she spoke English to me regardless of whether or not I spoke French to her.  She asked me when I was leaving Paris and invited me to come over for breakfast the next day before leaving for the airport and have the baguette then instead. The store opened by 6.30 am and they had one of the best coffee, she said. So I took only the piece of cake and croissant and promised to return the following day. By the time I left the store, my confidence in my ability to understand any French had plummeted.

I went back to the hostel, had breakfast and set out for my journey. Walking on Pont Marie, one of the bridges leading to the small island, I made my way towards the Cathedral. There was a long queue to go up the church tower but I was more interested in just seeing inside the church so I joined the shorter queue or somehow I walked past it into the church (I do not remember which one). The Notre-Dame was truly spectacular, with amazing sculptures, paintings, chapels, windows and most of all, a captivating history behind it. There were a few signs that read ‘no photos’ so I only took pictures :p. After spending about half an hour in there and saying some prayers, I left to make my way to Sainte Chapelle, another beautiful church on the big island. On my way there, I stopped by a shop with ‘Berthillon’ written above it. I had heard that Berthillon ice cream was one of the best in Paris and even though it was still quite early in the day, I was ready to try some of it. There was a black man in there selling the ice cream and crêpe.

“Bonjour! Ça va?” I began.

“Bonjour….Ça va et tu?” He said cheerfully, he seems like a very pleasant fellow.

I needed to know what flavours of ice cream he had but I did not know how to say this in French so I switched to English. That was where my troubles began. The man began shaking his head and saying “Parle français, seulement français…” (speak French, only French)

I tried to explain to him that my command of the language was poor but he kept smiling and insisting that I continued with French. I knew he could understand English because the man who had bought ice cream just before me had spoken English to him throughout. I figured out that he was trying to encourage me to speak French but I was truly stuck. And so after trying hard, I ended up placing an order for crêpe whilst thinking I was ordering for a banana flavoured ice cream.

“No no! I meant Ice cream!” I had to exclaim when I saw him pouring the flour and banana.

By this time, it was too late; the crêpe was ready. So I told him that I would pay for the crêpe and still buy the ice cream. The man refused; he said that ice cream and crêpe do not go together. No matter how hard I tried to convince him that I would pay for both and that I would eat one after the other, he was adamant. So I was left with no other choice but to take the crêpe only and return for the ice cream later. When I left his shop, I vowed not to speak a word of French to anybody again that day!

To be continued....


Have a great weekend and week ahead.

Twitter handle: @vivio_gogo

Instagram: @ugochiukah

QUESTIONS YOU SHOULD NOT ASK ON A FIRST DATE

Hello hi,

2 posts in a week, yay! I'm trying to make up for the gap period, lol. So I just thought to summarize my previous Bellanaija article here and give a few points on questions that should be avoided on a first date. Now I do not claim to be a date or relationship expert but these are merely thoughts from me or/and experiences of other that I have heard about which many people agree not to like. So enjoy :) :

QUESTIONS YOU SHOULD NOT ASK ON A FIRST DATE 

                                                                             pic source:www.cartoonstock.com

Like I previously mentioned on Bellanaija, dates should be enjoyable and used to get to know about each other in a relaxing manner. Therefore, bringing up certain topics which might get things get uncomfortable should be avoided, especially on the first date. Here are five questions that I think you should not ask on first dates:

1. Questions about finances: Yes, it is okay to talk about one’s occupation and job roles on the date but it does not seem proper to ask people about their income, net worth or related issues. This might sound surprising but many people get questions about the cost of their cars, homes and even family net worth and social statuses on first dates.  Rather, try to focus on similarities and things about your date’s job or career that you might find interesting.

2. Marital questions: Even if marriage is your ultimate goal for dating, it is best to get to know your date better before popping out questions like - So when do you wish to get married or what do you think about marriage? Some people think it is less obvious when they ask questions about genotype instead or if your date will be willing to relocate to another city for love but those are just as overt as asking the person to marry you directly. Such questions might sound too straightforward and scare your date away such that you might not get a second one.

3. Cases of the Ex’s: It is quite annoying when people ask questions or start to talk about their past relationships on a first date. Asking someone why they broke up with their ex-girlfriends or boyfriends or why they have been out of a relationship is quite personal for a first date. Such questions should be preserved for later when the other party is comfortable enough to tell you.

4. Future goals: Contrary to the book ‘Think like a man”, I do not think it is cool to ask people about their short term or long term goals on a first date. There are other creative ways to obtain information about if one is driven without making your date seem like a job interview.

5. Home-making skills and Special talents: Questions like – can you cook, can you build a house, can we make healthy babies, are you a great hunter etc. should not even be considered on a first date unless somehow it is within the context of the conversation but please try not to force them into your date time.

All of these may sound cliché but trust me, many people are still guilty. In conclusion, go out, relax, enjoy your dates and just be happy J

Happy weekend!

Twitter handle: @vivio_gogo                                Instagram: @ugochiukah