AUGUST RUSH

Hello Hi,

Happy new month! I apologize for taking a long "break" (although it was nothing like the break you imagine) but I'm back :). Thank you for waiting patiently and so to mark a new beginning, I am sharing a story. I hope you enjoy it and as usual, please share, like the google icon and leave your comments below.

AUGUST RUSH

It was the end of June; secondary school education had finally come to an end and the girls were enjoying their farewell party thrown by the school principal. Bernice and her friends sat around a corner saying their goodbyes and reviewing their future plans. It was Anita that started the conversation;

“Grace, you will be a July rush and you, Bernice (she looked at Bernice with a little smirk), will be an August rush; so get ready. As for me, I’m already a June rush!”

“What do you mean?” Bernice asked.

“I mean that boys will start coming for you by August…when you start university.” Anita replied. “But you have to start wearing better clothes and makeup so that they can notice you.”

It was then that it occurred to Bernice that she had not thought about dating anyone. They were in an “only girls’ school” and she had never had a boyfriend before. Anita, on the other hand, was always two steps ahead of the game and probably even had a boyfriend right then. Bernice hoped that she was not the only naïve one left in the group; however, she decided at that moment that she will take Anita’s word for it and become an August rush.

The first semester of University started officially in September but ‘Freshers’ had been asked to resume in mid-August for orientation purposes. Bernice was starting her degree in Engineering unlike most of her friends who were in the medical field and so she went to a different university, one that was more suited to her course. She did not know anybody there before arriving but she was easy-natured and was quick to make new friend. One of her new friends, Susan had arrived with her elder sister, Stacy. Stacy was already a student in her second year in the same school but she came earlier to help Susan settle in. Before she left, Stacy gave Bernice and Susan unsolicited advice - to be aware of the university guys, because many of them just wanted to play around with girls. She also said that the older students who were already back to school in August were either the “very serious students” who were doing some work or the “very unserious students” who came back early to get ‘Freshers’ as girlfriends because they knew that most of the girls were vulnerable at that stage. So when Stacy left for home, to return when school officially resumed for the older students, Bernice noted in her mind that Stacy was neither too serious nor too unserious as a student.

The weekend had barely arrived when Bernice heard a knock on her door, early on Friday morning. She opened it and to her surprise, it was a cute boy that she knew back from home. His parents and hers were colleagues but he did not seem to know or recognise her.

“Hi, my name is David and I can tell that you’re a fresher because I’ve never seen this face on campus before” he said.

“Hi, my name is Bernice and yes, I am a new student.” Bernice replied.

“Well, well, we like to welcome new students so I’m inviting you for a welcome party tomorrow”, he handed out a leaflet.

Bernice looked at it, it read ‘only new females on campus are invited’.

“Erm…why are you inviting only girls to this party, if I may ask?”

“Because we already have enough guys.” He answered calmly.

“Enough guys? That are not invited?” She asked.

“Yes, because the guys who are organizing the party including me, are automatically invited.”

“Oh I see. So is it just guys organizing this party?” she continued.

He paused for a moment and looked right into her eyes before replying “Why are you asking so many questions? Do you work with the FBI?”

Bernice was taken aback, “No, I was just curious” she murmured.

“If you’re that curious, then you should come tomorrow. I hope to see you then.” He said with a smile and walked away.

Bernice knew that she was not going to attend the party as she had already made her judgement on which of Stacy’s student’s classification that David fell into. Besides, he gave her a very uncomfortable feeling – the way he stared directly at her and spoke so calmly, with an air of arrogance. She wondered why her parents had not bothered to introduce her to him. They must have known that he was in the same university but they probably had good reasons not to.

The next day, while Bernice stayed in her room, Susan went for the party along with many others. Apparently, her sister’s advice did not have much of an effect on her. Bernice had already fallen asleep when a knock woke her. She thought Susan had returned for the party and was surprised to find David standing at the door.

“Why are you not at the party?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep” Bernice replied suspiciously. Many people had gone for the party, so how did he notice that she had not come? He must have some ulterior motives, she thought to herself.

“Why don’t you get dressed? I will wait for you”

“Sorry I can’t come. It’s 1 am and way past my bedtime so I need to sleep please”

“Are you asking me to leave your room?” he asked in a very cool manner but Bernice was too tired to have sensed the change in his tone.

“That will be very much appreciated, thank you”. She replied.

And then he exploded. He began to yell at her, how dare she ask him to leave? He said he would have slapped her but he would pardon her for tonight because she was a new student. She was to note that this as her first and last warning because if she ever tried it again….Bernice stood there in shock. She knew better than to reply especially as no one else was nearby. When he finished yelling, he left. She could not go back to sleep and decided to wait for Susan to come back.

A few minutes later, there was another knock at the door and Bernice ran to open it but it was not Susan, it was David again! She was scared but before she could beg him to leave, he started apologizing. He said he was drunk fifteen minutes ago but now he was sober and came back to say that he was sorry. All she could do was nod her head until he left.

The next day on her way to the orientation hall, she saw him from afar. She immediately changed her direction and decided to take a longer route because she had made up her mind last night to avoid him at all cost and if possible, to avoid being an August rush until the next year when she was deemed less vulnerable.

                                                                

                                                                    The End

Have a blessed month with many great things ahead :)

Home to Stay

Hello Hi,

Happy Sunday, I hope you are having a beautiful time. Last week, I published an article on Bella Naija about Divorce after cheating. If you missed it, you can find it here. Today, I have a piece from my lovely friend Sandra but first, something strange happened to me today:-

I was returning home from church and as usual barely paying attention to my environment as I listened to some soft music on my phone. As I approached my door, I had a weird feeling that I was being watched and so I look around. My eyes glanced at a shed where I kept my bicycle (which I'm still learning how to ride by the way) and then, I saw a pair of eyes. All these annoying cats, I thought to myself as I brought out my door keys. Then something struck my mind and I looked again; no it was not a cat, it looked like a fox. I froze for a second and then I began to run. I ran to the other end of the house and climbed the staircase to call my male housemate, John. I knocked on his door and pressed the bell for a few minutes but he did not answer. The next thing, crows were cooing and flying around like they were in fear (there are many crows and creatures in the city where I live). So I bent down a bit to avoid being hit or touched by any of them and suddenly, I saw the 'fox' coming towards me. I jumped from the stairs, ran to the back of the house into my room and locked myself inside. I was freaked out! I decided to call John's phone and he picked up saying that he was out of town. I told him about the creature and he asked me if it was really a fox or a raccoon. Truth is whether fox, raccoon, wolf; they are all the same to me. Anyway, it seemed like it was a raccoon and he told me not to worry- he said as long as they were not with their babies, they were usually not aggressive; all I needed to do was make some noise to shush it away. Needless to say, I was too scared to leave my house even though I had planned to go to the office to do some work. I finally called my mum and recounted my ordeal. After laughing at me, she said some prayers with me and told me to wear flat shoes for running. I made myself some quick meal (just in case I needed the energy), put on my running shoes, and looked out for the sign of the creature before sneaking out of my place. I walked as fast as I could until I got to the main road before I resumed playing some music but this time around I was much more aware of my surroundings. I just thought to share my ‘not-funny’ Sunday experience; now please enjoy Sandra’s story and as usual please share and leave your comments below J:

Photo credit: http://www.assentpublishing.com/breathlessbooks.aspx

Home to Stay by Sandra J.L

The call to fasten their seatbelts had been made and as the tiny aeroplane shook with a sudden drop in altitude, her heart skipped a beat. For a minute, panic seized her and she tightened her grip on the arm of her seat. This is it! She thought as the ATR 72 continued its descent towards the runway. What have I done? In a blindingly surreal moment she wondered again “What have I done?! Will it work? Will I make him happy? Will I be happy here?” Disjointed images like those from a mosaic scrutinized too close flashed through her mind’s eye; shapes, sounds and events that she could not quite make out lingered tantalizingly just out of  her focus and she struggled to concentrate, to stretch her mind, to slow them down and examine them, but in vain. 

Suddenly the plane jolted, bounced and stabilized on the tarmacked runway and as spontaneous applause broke out for the pilot and his crew, his cold hand came down to cover her own. “Babe! Babe, are you okay?!” He asked, his voice rough with concern. She angled her head in his general direction and tried to smile and nodded vigorously as sudden tears threatened to choke her. He lifted his other hand to her chin and gently turned her head all the way towards him.  “I know that it is going to be hard” he said, “but I will be right beside you, all the way. We can do this babe! I love you!” He added.

Slowly she lifted her drenched eyes to his dark brown ones and as always her fears and doubts dropped away. “I am sorry.” She whispered.  Her family, friends and beloved parish may be thousands of miles away but this sparsely populated, volcanic land of temperamental climate and severe unemployment was now her home. Their children will be born here. Yes she had gone against every piece of advice from friends, family and colleagues. She had chosen with her heart and if truth be known, she had no real regret. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face there. In that instant, locked in his warmth she silently swore that their love story which had started so romantically seven years previously and which they had consummated only a month before through the sacrament of marriage would bloom, weather every storm and leave a beautiful legacy for their loved ones. She, Mary Magdalene Elisabeth, had come home to stay.

About Sandra:

I do not believe that I have much writing skills; what I have in my own humble opinion is talent - the untapped, mostly unused and naïve type that is innate. Someday when I have time I will do some writing skills courses. I love baking and I am a decent cook. Human relationships fascinate me and I often write about those. The inspiration for this story came to me when I was planning my first trip out of the country after a lapse of 8 years. I came home one Saturday evening from a birthday bash and simply had to put pen to paper. I challenged myself in writing a short, sweet and rich story and ‘Home to stay’ came to be. I hope you will find it an entertaining piece.  

Don't forget to share please. Have a lovely week and for updates, please follow me on twitter @vivio_gogo and IG: @ugochiukah

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME: THE BIRTHDAY CAKE DILEMMA

Hello Hi,

Today is my birthday and I wanted to take a little break but how could I not write on my own birthday? :) Thank you all for the lovely birthday wishes, you have made my day!

My last BellaNaija post can be found here and my youtube video too is here. Today, I have a short but true story written below and I hope you all enjoy:

THE BIRTHDAY CAKE DILEMMA

Like some people, I have a birthday tradition – I must have a cake on my birthday (it doesn’t matter who buys it), with my name inscribed on it and nobody else can eat any piece of the cake that has a letter of my name except me. Thus, some of my friends think that I am weird and I remember the shock on their faces the first time they heard me yell “please don’t cut or eat my name” on any of my birthdays. Eventually they got used to it and it just happens to be one of my idiosyncrasies. If you also think that I am weird, that’s ok; I’ve never strived to be a usual personJ.

A short while ago, I moved to a new country and my birthday was approaching for the first time yet there yet I had not figured out where I was going to get a cake from. So I called a friend who had been around a little longer than I was to make enquiries.

“DQ makes the best cake in the country! You should definitely get one from them” he assured me and so I placed my order two days before my birthday last year. I asked for a large sized cake because I wanted all my newly acquired friends and colleagues to have enough to eat. I also needed something big because I had asked the cake shop to write my name in full – Happy Birthday ‘Ugochi V Ukah’.  The cake was ready for pick-up the next day and I went hurriedly to grab it. I was excited when I saw it because it looked pretty; I do not remember the exact colours of the icing now (probably white and gold or blue and black) but my heart was filled with joy knowing that I had my whole name to eat all by myself. I got on the bus, guarding the cake while standing throughout my journey. A few people offered their bus seats but no, I wanted to be sure that the cake would not roll over from the stand and so I remained standing until I got home. The cake paper wrapping read – Keep Frozen and so I quickly put it in my refrigerator without unwrapping it and went to bed almost immediately, half dreaming about the cake.

The next day was my birthday; as usual I dressed to impress (myself), wore a pair of heels and took a couple of selfies. Usually, I walked to my work place but I could not on that day because I did not want to sweat or carry a cake for the fifteen minutes journey so I decided to take the bus. The bus came ten minutes later than scheduled but that was okay for me as I was able to get a stranger by the bus stop to take a few more pictures of me in the beautiful sunlight. Eventually I got to the work, I realized that the paper bag covering the cake was wet but I assumed that there may have been some liquid in my fridge which had soiled it or maybe something else on the bus. I did not think much about it but needless to say, nothing prepared me for the event that followed soon. Leaving the cake on my desk, I went around to invite my colleagues to come during lunch time for some cake. It was then that one of them requested to have a look at my beautiful cake and so I had to take the wrap out. Lo and behold, my cake was melted!

I stood there surprised “Why is my cake flowing?!” I started to ask, “Er, why is it pouring?!”

“Because it’s an ice cream cake” he replied.

“Ice cream what?” I was confused. “What is that?” I had never heard about it in my life.

“It’s a cake that is like an ice cream. So it can melt” he replied, looking surprised at my reaction.

“Why would anyone want to make a cake like an ice cream or vice versa? And why was I not told about this?” I began to question him as if it were his fault.

“But you bought it from DQ, they only make ice cream cake” and he showed me the paper bag where there were instructions on freezing.

It did not make sense to me because firstly, I just assumed that freezing and refrigerating would have the same effect, that was why I had not frozen it and secondly, I never knew that such cakes or ice-creams existed; not even my friend who recommended the bakery had warned me. Once again, my being new to a place had taught me a new lesson and I was reminded of how much more I still had to learn. I was quite sad and wanted to continue arguing but by this time, the cake was becoming worse so we ran to the kitchen and put it in the freezer with the hope that it will re-freeze by lunch time.

By lunch time, the cake had managed to solidify a bit but there was no sign of my name anywhere on it as the icing colours has melted and formed various shapes. Therefore, I could not separate my name only for myself but I did not care much at this point. I was just curious to find out what it tasted like and I wanted everyone else to enjoy themselves. We had to use cups to drink the cake and true to my friend’s word, it was the best that I had ever had and everyone seemed to have fun. The rest of my day was lovely as well; I went out for dinner with some friends but one thing remained on my mind – I knew I wanted to have the ice cream cake again but in the right form as it was supposed to be.

And so this year, I got another ice cream cake with my name again but only ‘Ugochi V’. I ran straight to keep it in the freezer and sent an email to my colleagues for another lunch desert. It read:

Dear All,

For my birthday. I have brought an ice-cream cake today; yay! This time around, I made sure to read and follow the instructions and I ran straight to the freezer (not fridge) and put it there (see picture as proof). So hopefully, it remains in good shape.

So please come and eat some during lunch time for desert at the kitchen. I have some plates but I also kept some cups just in case we need to drink it again like last year 

I hope to see you all during lunch.

Thanks,

Vivian

 This year, I was prepared – the cake was still intact and so was my name. As we all enjoyed the cake, I did not care much about who ate my name; rather I was just happy for a second chance to get this right, even though it had taken me a whole year! J

                                                     

I would like to use this medium to say how thankful I am to God for keeping me and my family and giving us all that we need, thank you to my family and friends, and thank you for reading. 

Happy birthday to me, Cheers!

Please leave your comments below as usual and follow me on twitter: @vivio_gogo and Instagram: @ugochiukah for more updates.

HAPPY EASTER/ Ah-Di-Ah!

Hello Hi,

Happy Easter to everyone. I always love Easter because after all the 40 days of solemn preparation, I can shout again (and of course eat food :) ). The weather was beautiful today this week and I took this picture of the cherry blossoms in this post, My last Bella Naija published story can be found here if you missed it and some people were asking for my previously made video, you can also find that here. Today, I decided to write a story that I hope many can relate with, so enjoy:

“Ah-di-ah, Ada bekee!” Uche called out to Adaobi; She pretended not to hear him. “Ada-amaka; fine girl! Sweet baby, i di complete (you are complete)!” He was referring to the size of her bust and bottom. She placed her calabash, filled with water that she had just fetched from the stream, on her head and began to walk away from him as quickly as she could. But Uche continued to call out “I must marry you! 17, 18, 19, gbe-ge-dem!” he sang, according to the rhythm of her hips as she walked. She wished that he would stop as he was causing more unwanted attention towards her and the village boys passing by were smiling at her but she knew that he would not so she continued to ignore him and walked faster.

Ada, short for Adaobi, was one of the most desired women in the village; not only because of her looks but also because she was known to be a great dancer, very hardworking and her mother never failed to brag about her cooking skills to her friends. Therefore, Ada had many nicknames from the villagers such as nwa mpete (cute child), Ada asa (beautiful Ada), Ada ocha (clean Ada, because of her fair skin), including Ada ego (Ada of money) which her father called her because he hoped to make good money from her bride price someday. Every girl wanted to be like her and wished they would get half of the attention that Ada received from men. Unlike the arrogance that would have become of many if in her shoes, Ada remained a humble girl and was neither flattered nor welcomed any of the advances that she received. Many men - rich and poor, famous and of royal descent, had come to ask for her hand in marriage from villages nearby and afar but she turned down their proposals. She promised herself that she would marry a man whom she knew would love her completely regardless of beauty or cooking skills as she did not want to end up like her best friend Ezinne who had married a rich man but was never happy.

Just like the other young and even old men in her village, Uche who was a well-known hunter, wanted to marry Ada. The feeling was certainly not mutual; in Ada’s eyes, Uche came across as over-confident, loud and far-off from being a gentleman. That was apart from his regular annoying catcalls and names he gave her whenever they crossed each other’s paths. She had warned him many times to stop calling her names and had once poured water angrily at him but her anger and warnings were in vain. In fact, it seemed like her attitude towards Uche had fueled his desire even more and whenever he saw her, he would shout even louder and declare his love for her. She tried to avoid him as much as she could but he had discovered her schedule and so somehow, whenever she was farming, Uche was also farming on the land next to her family’s even though it did not belong to him; when she went to the stream to fetch water, he was there holding a calabash that she was sure he never used; and when she was at the market selling some of her mother’s vegetables, he came around buying them all such that her mother became fond of him as he was a very good “customer”.  Therefore, when Uche came with his uncle to ask for Ada’s hand in marriage, it was not surprising that her mother gave her support. Ada tried to express her skepticism about Uche to her mother but she would not understand. There was nothing wrong with a man who cooked vegetable soup often, her mother said but Ada knew very well that Uche had never cooked a pot of soup in his life. Her explanations concerning her doubt fell on deaf ears and in the end, she was advised to pray and hope for a sign from God.

It happened that on a fateful day, Ada was walking back home from the farm when two young men tried to molest her on the way. She screamed for help and thankfully, Uche quickly ran to her rescue. He fought them bravely while Ada ran away but as they were two men against him, he was beaten up badly. However, he had saved Ada and she showed her gratitude the next day by visiting him with some of her specially prepared meal. He was badly bruised and she felt a little bit guilty. That was the first time she had ever been to his house and she found him to be quite different from what she had expected. He was calm, kind and made intelligent conversations; maybe those men had beaten some temporary sense into his brain, she thought to herself as she went home and she was sure that he would be back to his usual arrogant ways once he recovered. To her surprise, he did not and even though she still felt like he was stalking her, he only smiled at her and did not call her names anymore. Although she felt relieved, a little part of her missed that ‘bad’ attitude of his.

Some weeks later, she was almost attacked by a snake along the riverside and again, Uche killed it swiftly with his hunting weapons but not before it bit him. He might have died but luckily, Ada had some expertise in expelling snake venom. After that, Ada and Uche became friends and quickly got married as she had gotten all the signs that she had asked for from God. Uche proved to be a wonderful husband to her, a loving father to their 2 beautiful children which she bore eventually and a kind son-in-law to her parents. He called her Ah-di-ah, which she had come to cherish and their love for each other was strong. His hunting was also successful and their marriage became an example of a perfect one for the villagers. They grew old together happily until Uche took ill. His illness progressed and he knew that he was going away soon. As he lay on his death bed while she sat by his side crying, he wondered whether he should tell her the truth now – about how he had arranged for the men to pretend like they were going to molest her although he had not expected them to beat him up that much since they were his friends or how he had set the snake loose the other day although he had not anticipated the bite. Either way, he had genuinely loved her and he did not want her love for him to fade away, not even when he died. So, he decided that some secrets were best taken to the grave and instead of a confession, his last words were “Ah-di-ah, Ada bekee!”

*Ada – first daughter

Please don't forget to leave your comments behind (I always appreciate them) and like the Google icon. Please share with your friends too. Thanks a lot and have a great week ahead.

Twitter: @vivio_gogo      Instagram: @ugochiukah

It was beautiful when God created man; it was even more beautiful when He re-created us by dying for our sins and rising  ~ Unknown

AS AN AFRICAN WOMAN

Hello Hi,

Today in recognition of the International Women's day, I decided to put up a post I wrote sometime ago. I have also attached a video reading it (for people that prefer to watch or listen to videos) and for the the rest of you who prefer to read like me, you don't have to watch and bear the sound of my voice, yay! lol. Enjoy (You can also watch it directly on youtube here):

As an African woman

As an African woman born in the village, I was born with a different kind of dream

I did not want to be a writer neither did I want to be a doctor

My vision was to make a good wife and a great mother to at least eight children

To have the “right” amount of flesh that would make men desire me

To have great culinary skills such that my husband would be over-fed

To have big breasts, such that enough milk will be produced for my children

And to have broad shoulders to balance my calabash of cool water fetched from the stream

Eventually I left my continent for the white man’s world at the age of sixteen

To become a maid for my rich relative who lived abroad

I was forced by my Madam to go to the nearby public school

To acquire some level of literacy and good manners

So that I would not “pollute” her children with my uncouth ways, she said

 I was forced to wear ugly uniforms everyday; oh, how much I hated them!

And instead of a calabash on my head, I had to sling a bag on my neck and my back

At first, every moment of school was a torture for me

I found the teachings very strange and unreasonable

Every minute spent in class, I saw as a waste of my time

Who needed to know science, when my mates in the village were married by now?

Of what profit was learning English, when I had no children to speak it to anyway?

I desperately wanted to go back home, where I could achieve my own kind of dreams

Because their English or Arts class were of no value to me

 Then things got interesting with time, especially when I began to learn new terms

My teachers had different names for my life experiences; and I soon learned that

 “Sexual abuse” was what my Madam’s husband had been doing to me

“Obese” was what I had wanted my body to look like

“Ignorance” was why I hoped for my village dreams solely and nothing more

And “gender inequality” was the reason why I thought I was inferior to all men

I learned how to speak for myself with time 

and avoid the sexual abuse, obesity and I grew less ignorant by the day. 

And so I began to pay more attention in class, appreciating the new way of life

By the time I finished school, I had a different kind of dream, more powerful yet still cultural

Yes, I still wanted to attract a good man but with a healthy flesh and good posture

Eventhough I still wanted to become a great mother, but not to eight children but this time to about three children

I still wanted to be a good wife but definitely not at the age of sixteen

And I’d still want to respect my husband when I eventually got married but he had to respect me just as much

Most importantly, now as an African woman who is enlightened

It is my vision to inspire other African women by telling them my story.

So please as usual, leave your thoughts and comments below and please share with your friends.

Thank you and have a great week.

Please follow me on twitter: @vivio_gogo and IG: @ugochiukah.

THE TALENT-FREE SHOW

Hello Hi,

I hope you are doing great and the New year is setting off really well. My last two published articles on Bellanaija titled "It is common sense" and "Iyawo wa" can be found here and here respectively. Please check them out if you have not read them. Today's story is inspired by random thoughts, as often, lol. Enjoy:

photocredit:goulddesinginc.wordpress.com

The New Year had finally set in and even February was fast fading away. Annabel had been waiting for a long time now to launch her plans. She had initially wanted to do it during Christmas but she had been advised against it as the season was usually filled with pre-planned activities. Nobody would come for the program, her new assistant Mr. Pedro, had said. After Christmas, there was of course Valentine’s Day which she thought should have no effect on the plans but yet again, Mr. Pedro said it was a huge celebration in the South-South and so she decided to wait again. She had returned back to Nigeria from the US to pursue her own entrepreneurial schemes and one of them was to start a talent show for children. Her goal was to sponsor the top three finalists through the rest of their undergraduate education in a Nigerian University whilst performing their talent by the side. She thought this would be a perfect way to give back to her community whilst nurturing talents as well as providing higher learning for youngsters. So she thought first year University students would be the right population for her as they would have already gained University education and most of them will be young adults already but Mr. Pedro thought final year students in secondary school would be easier to encourage and would be more meaningful as their entire University education will be covered by the scholarship.

Annabel did not really like Mr. Pedro; she found a little too aggressive and domineering but she had no other choice as he was a native of the area and seemed to be the only one interested in her plans. He knew his way around the town and could speak pidgin English, something she was terrible at no matter how hard she tried. She also knew that he had some connections with key stakeholders who could be potential sponsors and so she was forced to work with him. They had a plan – to go to the government secondary school in the Ahoada region of Rivers State and obtain permission from the teachers to talk to the students about the contest. Mr. Pedro knew the school principals and assured Annabel that there will be no problem as long as they settled them, as he called it. “But why Rivers state?” he asked as they drove down the bumpy road to one of the schools. “Because I believe there is talent in the south. My mum is from Bayelsa and I knew a lot of talented kids whilst growing up. The plan is to start from here and hopefully expand in the near future” Annabel replied whilst eating some gala; she was starving as she had not had any breakfast. They arrived at the school and true to Mr. Pedro’s words, the process went smoothly as soon as the teachers were settled. They were allowed to make an announcement to the students about the show and the prizes and they promised to be back on Friday to start the auditions immediately after school. Talented students who were interested should inform their parents and wait behind for a couple of hours.

On Friday afternoon, Annabel and Mr. Pedro returned to the school with excitement. To her surprise, many of the students had stayed behind; some to perform and some to watch and even a few teachers were present. After sharing drinks and snacks to everyone present, Mr. Pedro asked them to forms queues according to their talents – spoken words and songs in one row, acting in another and other art work in the third row.

“I said arrange yourselves! Are you deaf?” Mr. Pedro was screaming and waving a cane. The students were quite disorganized but Annabel did not think it was enough to call for his yelling. She was uncomfortable with Mr. Pedro’s behaviour but the teachers did not seem to mind.

“We will start from this first row. One by one, please come forward, tell us your name, your intended stage name, your talent and then perform. You have 2 minutes each.” Annabel announced. Some of the students giggled and some imitated her American accent. She was getting used to the sort of attitude and barely took notice.  The first student stepped forward, a tall light-skinned boy.

“My name is David, my stage name is ‘Rudoff’ and I’m a rapper” he said. There was cheering from his schoolmates and one could tell that he was popular.

“Rudoff?” Mr. Pedro cut in just as David was about to start his performance. “What sort of name of that? Are you a dog?” The whole school laughed. Annabel quickly whispered in his ear and the boy was given a signal to begin.

“Yo! My name is Ruddoff,

Some people call me hiccough

My shor’ies know I’m too tough

And haters want to piss off

Y’all wanna make me cool off...”

Annabel did not know how to stop him even though she wanted to, especially as the whole school was clapping and even Mr. Pedro was nodding to the lyrics. Eventually, two minutes ran out and she had to stop him.

“Come and write down your name here” Mr. Pedro said. “You have talent!” Annabel stood open-mouthed but could not manage any words.

“Next!” Mr. Pedro announced. The next was a girl who introduced herself and said she would be reciting a poem:

“What love can this be compared to

His eyes ever flourishing blue

His hands touching my breast so... ”

“Shut up there!” Mr. Pedro interrupted. “How old are you that someone is touching your breast? My friend, move out so that other people can perform. Spoilt brat!” the students laughed as the girl covered her face and ran. Annabel was not pleased, she whispered again to Mr. Pedro.

The auditions went on, the following person worse than the previous until almost three hours had gone by and they had to stop. They would return the next week to continue. She was beginning to feel like the whole episode was a joke as she could not stand any of the “talents” that Mr. Pedro had approved and the ones she thought she might have liked, he had always interrupted or called them boring. Her hopes of finding a genuine talent were slowing fading away until she saw a young boy holding a painting on the road as they drove back home. He was wearing the same school uniform but had not been present at the auditions or maybe she had not noticed him.

“Stop the car please” Annabel said to the driver. She jumped off to speak to the boy.

“Who painted that?” she asked him, he said he was the one. She also confirmed that he attended the same secondary school but had not waited behind for the audition because his mother had not permitted him. Annabel said that she would come to ask for permission herself from his mother and asked for the direction to his house, which she quickly memorized. At last, today was not useless, she thought to herself, smiling as she walked back to the car and promising to return the next day to see the boy’s mother with some very special settlements.

Please don't forget to share and leave your comments in the section below. Thank you always and have a great weekend.
Happy Lenten season!

Twitter: @vivio_gogo IG:@ugochiukah

ONE CHANCE by ucsmile

Hello Hi,

I hope you are doing great. It's been a short while, school-work! Today, I have an interesting story written by the talented doctor and writer - 'ucsmile' who still chooses to remain anonymous.

Please leave your comments behind and share with your friends. Thank you. Enjoy:

One Chance

photocredit: www.garda.com

It happened on a Good Friday, and I didn't go to church that day. I was rushing to get back to Ajah from Badagry and was feeling very awkward standing on the road and flagging down cars after a long while. It stemmed from a bad decision to leave my car back in Lagos and I was now paying for it.

One of the cars pulled over and the driver asked, "Mile 2?" I was quick to reply in the affirmative; luck doesn't shine on you twice!

"Mile 2 #250" he said, in their typical way of asking for more. "#200", I replied, and he opened the door for me to enter.

As I entered the car, I felt uneasy. Normal taxi drivers would have insisted on that fare. I quickly assessed the situation. The driver had red shot eyes and the driving mirror had a rosary hanging from it. There was just a single passenger sitting behind me, while I was on the passenger seat. That means that the driver should be looking for more passengers but he  wasn't enthusiastic in his search for more passengers. He sped past waiting passengers, making half hearted attempts at picking them. At some point, he stopped for a man and the whole drama of haggling was repeated with him settling for #200 again and the passenger entered.

At this point, I put my hand into my pocket and brought out my rosary which was never far from my side. That singular action made the driver cast a sharp look at me which I pretended not to notice. I kept a calm exterior while the inside was riotous. Stories of assualt and robbery along that route kept going through my head. Even at that, I didn't stop praying the rosary; I knew it was only God that could save me from the situation.

As we approached Ibereku Barracks, he hesitated a bit, and then drove on to some short distance and suddenly stopped the car.

"Oga were you tell me say you dey stop? No be Ibereku barracks?", the Driver asked in pidgin English.

The first paasenger replied, "Na Ibereku barracks. We don reach?"

"Na im we just pass o!"

"Ahh! I tell you say I no know the place. You for tell me on time. Make I come down. Open your boot make I take my bag."

At this point, I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe I was being paranoid after all. But my relief was shortlived.

"Oga, you get bag for inside my boot?", the driver asked again.

"Yes na!"

"Oga, you bin dey this car when those women dey come down and I dey ask who get the bag and you no talk. Wetin dey inside the bag?"

"Na just my clothes and personal effects."

"Oga, no be you get the bag. Make you enter the car back."

As he got into the car, the driver moved off again at a low speed and at the same time, ...into a narrative directed at me.

"Bros see e, I carry this man with some women all the way from Seme. E no tell me wetin im carry. As the women dey come down for Badagry, one of their zips come hook im bag, and the bag open. Na so so dollar and foreign currency wey full the bag!" Oga tell me, how you get the money? Tell me the truth!"

At that moment, one thing was on my mind: How do I get down from this car?! The new passenger was nodding vigorously and was very eager to make his own contribution to the conversation. I had just confirmed my worst fears: they were all in this together!

The 'accused' stuttered, "Okay. I go talk true. Alhaji go Mecca, leave im wife. Im wife come die. I come carry all the gold and money waka. Abeg, make una no report me."

"Oga, we go carry you go our park. Na there we go talk waiting we go do you".

Park? This was the moment they were all waiting for; the moment I will choose to either go along with them, or drop. I wasn't interested in knowing what would become of the "dollars". All I was interested in was getting out of the car as fast as possible!

I spoke up, "Please, can I drop here?"

"Okay bros".

And he stopped the vehicle, and I, clutching my rosary tightly, scampered down. They zoomed off immediately, probably to look for the next greedy prey.

This time around, I waited for a yellow painted city bus and flagged it down.

"Mile 2?"

"Mile 2 #200."

And with relief, I hopped in quickly!

Thank you for reading, please share your experiences in the comment section. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did; I always laugh when I hear about these "one chance" stories. Fortunately I have never encountered any. I hear they are a lot in Abuja and Lagos so please always be careful wherever you stay. Have a great week. Cheers!

Twitter @vivio_cao . Instagram: Ugochiukah