Wild, Wet, Passionate Love

Ada woke up with a start, as if she had been chased around in her dream. She took in the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, the whitewashed walls and the rusty tripartite blades of the ceiling fan. She looked again for a familiar object and saw her phone. On it was eight (8) missed calls and a frantic message from her beloved husband. She looked at her phone like she was in a trance. The stark reality of what she had done hit her fiercely even as her heart gave a hammer-like thud. The tears began rolling. Here she was, in the bed of a man she had met less than three months ago while in another room, another bed sat another man, Tayo her husband of five(5) years who had been sick with worry, waiting for her.

But why? She cried. Why had she done this horrible, horrible thing? Tayo was a good man and he loved her dearly. He didn’t deserve this. He had stood with her through thick and thin. Right from when his mother had looked at her with thinly veiled disgust and slowly elucidated that her son will never marry “omo ibo”, Tayo had stood his ground and in a very polite way, told dear mama to shove it. He had been her rock four years and three miscarriages later when she would cry and cry about how unfair the world was. He would hold her head against his shoulders and comfort her, the anguish in his voice clearly audible as he also could not understand why this misfortune was happening to them.

It was therefore mixed feelings of hope and dread she had felt when she told Tayo of her two week old pregnancy. They had agreed to keep the news a secret to themselves. But like a sweet smelling soup, pregnancy does not hide itself and before she could say “Jack Robinson”, she was bringing forth Damilola Chinedu Johnson into the world. He was a healthy baby with big, puzzled eyes and mighty lungs. Tayo had been ecstatic. He had thrown a big naming ceremony which overcompensated for the baby shower they had mutually agreed not to have. They had been so happy. Those were one of the best moments of her life, moments which would forever put a smile on her face.

She recalled those moments now as more tears welled up in her eyes. Damilola, her precious beautiful baby had come with his own fair share of challenges. She had had a very stressful pregnancy and had moved from size 10 to size 18. She had tried it all to lose weight; diet, slimming pills, waist trainers et al but like a dead weight, the kilos had refused to melt off. Baby D, as she fondly called Damilola, would also not let her sleep. At 3 0’clock every morning, his cries would begin. He would fuss so much and would not sleep until she fed him and played with him. When he was satisfied, he would smile at her and sleep off. She would smile back and sigh deeply because now, she had to take care of her husband and there was no way she was getting any sleep that morning. She felt disillusioned, unkempt and undesirable. Even when Tayo tried to be amorous, she rebuffed him. She knew he pitied her and she did not want to be pitied. She wanted desire; she craved passion. She desired wild, wet, passionate love.

And then, in came Terry, her gym instructor. When she first met him, she had so detested him. He would yell and shout at her while giving instructions. Once he told her that she was too lazy and that was why she was still fat. That day, she had walked out of the gym and vowed never to come back. However, two days later along with an apology text from him, she had gone back to the gym with a firm determination to never let him get under her skin. He looked deeply into her eyes and apologized once more. For Ada, it wasn’t so much the apology he said but the look in his eyes as he said it. She had seen something in his eyes which she had stopped seeing in her husband’s eyes; something she had been so used to seeing that she had so taken it for granted. Something she so longed for in her life right now. She had seen passion and desire in his eyes and like a moth to flame, she was drawn towards that look.

So when she signed up for extra gym classes, she did not know if she did it because she wanted to get fit or because she wanted to keep seeing that look. When she got a nanny for Baby D, she did not know if she did it because she wanted to have time to do other things or because she wanted to see Terry’s face again and again. But when Tayo had looked at her quite fit body and smiled appreciatively, she knew then with deep conviction that she didn’t want his look, she wanted Terry’s.  She knew she should stop. She loved her husband and valued her marriage. She knew she was playing with fire. But danger kept calling her and she kept moving towards it. And so she continued. And the classes became more frequent. And she stopped using her car because Terry was always there to walk her home. And when he asked why, she told her husband that walking was a great form of exercise. But what she did not tell him was that she drawn to her walking companion.

Then one day, Terry kissed her…passionately. She pushed him away and ran with tears in her eyes. She was so devastated because it was so beautiful yet so forbidden. He sent her a message later apologizing to her and telling her how he had fallen deeply for her. How he was relocating to another state because he could not bear to see her with someone else. So she had gone to his house to see him one last time. To tell him goodbye personally. To ingrain his face in her consciousness. As their eyes met, all the long held emotions just poured out and before she knew it, they were making wild, wet passionate love…again, again and again.

And now, the morning after, here she was. Unfamiliar surroundings, a frantic husband at home, sore wetness between her legs and a short, terse note from Terry. He was gone. He had a 6a.m flight and did not want to wake her. His lease on the apartment had expired so she should leave the key under the doormat when she was leaving so the landlord would see it when he came. He really enjoyed his time with her and would try to keep in touch via face book. And that was all. He was gone…just like that. She stared at the letter again and as if on cue, the tears came flooding down once more.



So Tope is in an emotional quagmire…or is quagmire the word? More like emotional roadblock…or let’s call it emotional traffic. You know those types that happen in those major streets in lagos, where there is nothing actually blocking the road but no one just moves. Like people are just stuck but if one gets to check what is actually causing the traffic, they’d actually see nothing. So let’s say Tope is in an emotional go-slow. She just hasn’t been able to have feelings for anyone, like literally anyone. Normally, it shouldn’t be a big deal but for Tope, this is a first. For as long as she could remember, she has either liked or crushed on or tripped for someone. It was usually nothing serious, it was just usual.She was used to hearing things like “how far nau? Where’s the new boo?” because according to her friends “she no dey dull at all”.




However, now it’s so different. The flirty mood seems to have gone down the drain. This is not about anything deep like opening her heart to someone, I mean she has lost interest even in the basic things like flirting, staring at a boy so closely because she wants him to talk to her, waiting for that guy’s call that made her smile… you know all those usual girly acts and moves and feelings that can only be understood by girls…she seems to have lost it all. Like now, she doesn’t feel anything, men literally look like statues or lizards…you know they are everywhere but you just don’t notice. She really doesn’t care anymore. When she wants to step out, she forgets to care about how she looks anymore. Or if she ever gets to dress up, it’s because she wants to “feel herself” not because she wants anyone else to “feel” her. Now she just wants to spend time with her girls or with “friendzoned “guys who have equally “friendzoned” her. Thus there’s no need to impress or fake a smile or act sweet and coy. She wants to be with those whom she can just be herself with, those with whom she can just be quiet with and they won’t think she’s having a mood swing or she’s being a bitch. She’s so tired of the lecherous looks, uninvited attention and errant butterflies in her tummy.

Maybe what’s causing this unusual state is that she just broke up with her boyfriend of two years. It wasn’t so painful; it was even expected so she wasn’t surprised or shocked that it happened. It was just one of those things, you know…life. Or maybe what’s causing this is that she’s tired of this cycle. The “meet someone, like someone, hang out with someone and before anything gets serious, the said someone becomes distant and impossible to reach and next time, the someone is with someone else” cycle. Maybe she’s tired of using men for the free rides, free dates and free dinners with her girlfriends because as she knew “awoof dey turn belle”. Maybe she is tired of the constant flirting and having friends with benefits and being match made with every other single person on the planet or maybe she is tired of having to smile and be “nicely flirty” with every potential male species because she doesn’t know who would be THE ONE for her. Maybe she just wants to meet and be with the love of her life or maybe she just want to curl up, eat popcorn and watch “Game of Thrones”. YOLO abeg…




Hey everyone, how are we doing?

So I wrote this poem once when I was in such a confused state. This was about four years ago. I remember I woke up at about 2a.m in the morning to write this. I wasn’t able to sleep, I kept turning and tossing on my bed trying to figure out a possible solution to the quagmire in which I had found myself. Even after writing the poem, I can’t remember if I found a solution or not. I just remember that it felt therapeutic to have my feelings on paper. It gave me clarity. So I’m sure we’ve all been in these kind of situations one time or the other so I hope you find it relate-able(pardon my grammar). Here goes:


The anguish in my soul;

The cry of a confused heart

When all is done and all is said

Still no place to turn nor where to hide

The stick is burnt at both ends;

Both burning and I’m just in the middle

Caught with no place to turn

Between the devil and the deep waters

Where will I go?

With tears in my eyes

And groans from my lips

I ache to find an answer

Yet this eureka eludes me

This way or that, I do not know

When I look here, I see a light

The truth out in a form

I look there and see more lights

The truth out in more forms

Oh God, what is this!

Why would one and one give two?

Yet one and one is eleven

Truth is all the two are right

I just don’t know which to choose

This could make or break me

Caught in the middle

Seeing from both sides

Yet the truth is hidden

Shadows and light

Dancing on my path

Falling on each side

So I run for the light

But to a shadow it turns

So I’m caught in the dark


What exactly do I want?

Of a truth, I do not know

I want neither here nor there

Yet I crave each of here and there

I sigh deeply, still I have to choose



So, I remember once when I was in the university, I and two of my friends were gossiping (our favourite pastime then). So we moved from topic to topic until we got to one that concerned one of our mutual acquaintances, let’s call her Cally. And let’s call my friends Jasmine and Geraldine. The discussion went thus:

Geraldine: “I heard that Cally just went to visit that guy she met the other day and he gave her 100k.”

Jasmine: “Ehn? are you serious? So he just gave her 100k without doing anything? I heard that’s what she told people ooo”

Me: “If I hear! You just go person house and the person come give you 100k. Na your papa?…Anyway, if na true, make she introduce me”

Geraldine: “Abeg, na wetin she tell me. Na wetin I hear, na him I talk”

We all burst out laughing. See, I’m a believer and when I listen to people, I believe what they say because I reason that no normal person should lie to me since I have no business in their lives. Afterall, they have nothing to gain if they lie to me. Usually, my belief in people even borders on naiveté. However, there are some stories I hear that sounds so unbelievable that it’s impossible to believe every detail. I mean, I know people receive amazing gifts but telling me that you just met a guy and spent the night in his house and he gives you a hundred thousand naira and you guys did not “do anything”, that tori get as e be ooo.

So I call these stories “Testimonies that Torment” ie stories that are too good to be true that they begin to torment the hearer. Usually, these stories may not be outright lies rather they are stories laced with so much exaggeration and half-truths that the believing listener is overwhelmed by the plethora of “good news”. From the conversation above, I don’t know if Cally “did something” or “did not do anything” but I believe that some information she gave were either embellished or withheld. Some other examples of “testimonies” I’ve heard are:

“I don’t read at all. I don’t know how come I always get ‘A’ {I know you’re a  genius but…really, you don’t read at all?}

“Praise God. Yesterday I was selling moi-moi. Today, I’m a millionaire” {Can you really explain how you became a millionaire between Yesterday and today?}

“Nooo…I just rubbed chief’s stomach only and he gave me a car” {you dun’t mean it!…insert surprise face smiley}

See, like I said earlier, I believe in testimonies, divine favour and miracles. Heck, I don’t believe I would be where I am today without some sort of miracle or the other. But even miracles have a foundation. There is something in place already and a miracle multiplies it. Moses had to use a rod to part the red sea and even Jesus used five loaves and two fish which he multiplied to feed 5000. So my issue with these “testimonies” is that they seem to come out of the blue with no foundation whatsoever. In fact they sound like extraordinary lies.

Once, I was in a church and the pastor mentioned that when people give testimonies, we should not just take them at face value. He told a story of a member who gave a testimony that he prayed to God for a job and while he was just seating at home, he got a message inviting him for a job interview and bang! the job was his. The pastor, who was privy to most of the information asked the member to tell the full story step by step. The said member then explained how he had met someone at a meeting and had told the person that he was looking for a job. The person asked for his credentials then he had waited for six months for an opening before he got the text message inviting him for the job interview. The pastor explained that he had asked the member to say the full story because he did not want other job seekers to listen to the testimony and believe that God just throws job interviews from heaven. He wanted the other members to see that some background work had been done before the job came through.

I’m with Pastor on this one. So, before somebody starts telling me all his/her wonderful stories, let the person tell me the challenges he/she faced, the work they had to do to get to where they are. When you are popping champagne and pouring hennessey, tell me of the times you had to soak garri for one hour for it to swell before you could eat. Okay, it may not be that bad but I believe every true success story or miracle had a beginning. If your own is to “visit” people and collect one million naira, tell me everything. Let me know what you had to sacrifice, the price you had to pay to get to where you are so I will truly know if I’m ready to pay it instead of starting a journey which I cannot complete. On that note, that’s why I love our Nigerian artistes. Once they release one hit song, they immediately release a “we-don-struggle-now-we’re-chopping-money” song. Even the rich kids among them who have never experienced poverty in their lives will sing their own.Anyway…at least upcoming artistes would listen and console themselves.




Too many sensations assailed her senses. The feel of flesh pounding on flesh,a sound like a deep animal-like howl of pain, the pungent smell and taste of blood mixed with warm sweat and salty tears. After a while, her body lost its valiant attempts to stay awake as it fell into an unconscious heap.  But…was this how it was in the beginning? Tunde had been a gentleman. Tall,broad shouldered and oh so very handsome. He was also very soft spoken. She would never forget the day he had spoken to her for the first time. She was very quiet and quite reserved and not one of the usual “flashy” girls in church. So it was to her utter amazement and joy when this Adonis walked  up to her with a smile and asked for her name and phone number. He called her later that evening and that was the beginning of a beautiful and whirlwind romance.One she had only dreamt of but never experienced. Tunde was everything she had ever wished for and more.

“But he was still human”, she thought, when she had first seen his flash of rage. Tunde had seen her talking and giggling with Emeka,her friend and colleague at work. She had excitedly introduced Emeka to him. However, with his mouth clamped tight shut like a sledge hammer, Tunde had turned his face away and said nothing. Later that evening, he gave her a resounding slap and warned her severely never to “embarrass” him like that in public,never again. She could not believe her eyes and ears. She left with a vow never to talk to him again. But like the prodigal son, Tunde had come weeping and begging. He loved her so much,that was why he did it. He would never do it again. His tears moved her icy heart and with tears in her eyes,she took him back…Four years later,two children together,here she was; beaten and bruised within an inch of her life….A victim enabling her tormentor.


He sighed deeply as he cleaned the blood coming out from the deep gash on his forehead. His wife,Kimberly,had struck again. What she lacked in height,she amply made up for in strength and viciousness. A cute,petite woman with a smile that seemed to light up the room and a bright vivacious personality, Kim was everything Dave had always wanted in a woman. However,like a double edged sword,Kim’s vivacious personality was matched with an equal measure of short temper and aggressiveness. Her tongue was quick and her nails were even quicker. When angry, she would lash out venom from her tongue and every physical object in sight would be used hurt the object of her rage,usually him.

Normally,after their numerous fights,Kim would more than compensate him with rounds and rounds of make up sex. But now, David was clearly unhappy and confused. Apparently, he wasn’t nearly as masochistic as he thought he was. As a gentleman he had been taught never to hit a woman but he had not been taught what to do when a woman hits him.He knew he must do something quick or else, he would remain a victim;an unreported statistic.

Domestic violence is a phenomenon prevalent in the world in general and Nigeria in particular. It occurs in an intimate relationship or marriage and usually involves a pattern of physical,verbal or psychological abuse where the abuser uses threats,intimidation,physical violence etc to exert control,manipulate and dominate the abused. Most times, the abuser would ensure that his victim is dependent on him emotionally,physically,financially or even spiritually. This would in turn reduce the ability of the victim to resist this abuse. In most cases, the abuser usually seems like a responsible person in the society thus it may be very difficult or even impossible to know one from outside.

The abused on the other hand,acquires a sense of learned helplessness after suffering for so long.Thus, they may feel entitled to and even responsible for the abuse received. The sense of guilt and shame they feel,may hold them under for so long that after a while,it becomes easier for them to remain silent and sink into the shadows rather than open up and get help..

Domestic violence does not discriminate and anyone can be a victim. Though in most cases,the victims of domestic violence are female,statistics have shown that a lot of men suffer domestic violence also. A research conducted by the Mankind Initiative(A centre for abused men to seek help) showed that a whooping 38% of domestic abuse victims are male. The research also showed that when compared to their female counterparts,male victims are twice as likely to never tell anyone about their attacks. This probably occurs because culture and biology teaches that a man is always stronger than a woman. It is hardly believable that a grown man can be abused by a woman. Thus many victims,men and women alike would prefer to remain silent rather than suffer the cultural and social stigmatization which they may receive if they speak out.

Is there a way out? I like to think so. Being such a huge phenomenon enabled by culture and twisted religion,it may be quite difficult to be completely eradicated but it definitely can be reduced. Firstly,the victim should know that he/she is not at fault. They may not have the power to change the behaviour of the abuser but they have the power and responsibility to stop being victims. The second thing is to break the silence. Victims should try to talk to TRUSTED family and friends. Talking to religious leaders may also be helpful . The whole aim is to have a very strong support unit for the victim to rely on.Thirdly,the victim should have a “safety place” ie a safe environment for them and their dependents which would be inaccessible to the abuser. It could be the house of trusted friends or family. The state can also provide protection. In Nigeria, there is the Mirabel Centre which is a safe haven for domestic and sexual abuse victims.

These solutions are not in any way exhaustive but it is always up to the victim to determine whether or not to remain in that condition or to come out of it. There is always a way out. You may have a friend or family going through this ordeal. Encourage such a person to get help. You can be a listening ear or a ready shoulder to lean on. There are various institutions where you can encourage victims to get help. Just do something today.

The free helplines for Domestic and Rape Victims are listed below:

Rape Treatment Centre – 08056268573

Office of the Public Defender- 07080601080


Women Affairs and Poverty Alleviation-08085754226

Mirabel Centre- LASUTH Ikeja



Hi everyone,

So here I am again, pouring out my heart to you . I wrote a poem about love. I have to warn you though, I have minimal experience in this area, so everything I have written here are just opinions coming from  limited experience. It may not be exactly accurate or explicit. So for us who have truly experienced true love, I would love to read about your experience in the comments section.  Alright…here we go.

  • What is love?

Is it a feeling? Is it a choice?

Do you have control over it? Is there a balance of power?

Can you keep your heart in check when it greatly cries out for something?

Can you fill that void with something else?

What is love?

Is it that deep , intense emotion which tears your heart apart when you don’t hear from Him?

Or is it that intense feeling of joy you get when you finally talk to her?

Is it that feeling of completeness you have when you are with him?

When it seems like with her, you can do anything.


Is love that hollow feeling you have when you don’t feel His presence?

Is it that heavy heart you have when it seems like  he has drifted?

Or is it that acute feeling of relief you get when she finally calls your name?

Is it the peace you have when she is with you?

What is love?

It has been spoken about, sung about, written about

Man’s greatest need; His greatest hunger

Man’s greatest gift yet his greatest weakness

Nothing physical, yet its absence is total emptiness.

It can never be adequately described

Can never be sufficiently expressed

It can only be experienced

And when you do, you will know

What is love?

Love is vulnerability; Love is pain

Love is sacrifice; giving up of yourself

Love is indescribable; Love is unreasonable

Love is irrational yet so pure

What is love?

Love is where there seem to be better options,

There seem to be other alternatives,

Plenty of reasons why you should leave,

But like a leech, you are stuck on this one.

Love is trust; Love is believing

Love is being vulnerable even at the risk of a broken heart

Love is acceptance even before repentance

Love is kindness even when hurt

Love is leaving all you have in search of one.

Love is inexhaustible; Its the greatest power in the world

An oasis of peace for all mankind

And what joy! How happy is the one

Who truly rests in the bosom of true love.

Continue reading “STRINGS FROM MY HEART”

Sense and Sensibility ( Just Change The Channel!)


So here I was watching a music video on television. Of course, it was the usual booty-shaking, hips-gyrating, women objectifying concept used in the video.While watching, I let out this really long, malicious hiss and went into a lengthy diatribe about how every Tom,Dick,Bisi,Joan want to sing in Nigeria and how watching these videos have destroyed the brain cells of our Nigerian youths. I was really in my element as I criticized everything from the video quality to the hairstyle of the musician. Funny enough,I kept watching the video even while I was ranting. As I kept going on and feeling like some sort of movie critic, a small voice whispered from inside “why don’t you just change the channel? its simply sense and sensibility…”

So i googled ‘sense’ and ‘sensibility’ and here is what I got. Sense: Any of the faculties by which stimuli from inside or outside the body are received and felt such as the faculties of hearing,sight,smell,touch,taste and equilibrium(dictionary.reference.com). Sensibility on the other hand refers to an acute perception, responsiveness towards something usually an information received by the senses(Wikipedia.org).

While mulling over this definitions, I came to a weird but seemingly true conclusion that negative information is very entertaining. In fact, It is a well known fact/cliche that bad news sell quickly. Humans have a weird penchant for negative information. The issue however is that after the initial entertainment is over,one is left with a negative feeling like some sort of bitter aftertaste. The feelings may come in different forms such as revulsion,worry,anger or sadness etc; it may even take a while to accumulate but those feelings will surely come. This is why,though it was quite entertaining to watch, that music video left me feeling angry,disgusted and sad. Watching several beautiful women objectified by a teenage musician never produces a good feeling. This information however  gave me a sense of power as I now knew that I could control my feelings by choosing the information I receive with my senses.

It is true that you are what you think. Even the bible says that. The information which you receive with your senses make up your thoughts which then spurs you to take action which will determine your course in life. So,we have the power and responsibility to choose the information to receive with our senses. For example, as a young graduate, I have a choice to either listen to people who have been successful in their various careers and businesses and learn from their success stories or I can listen to the general populace whine about how there are no jobs in Nigeria. As a single lady, I also have a choice to either listen to people who have had successful marriages or I can join in the “All Men Are Dogs” chant. The choice is up to me.

Frankly,negative information is quite entertaining and is always readily available. Sometimes it seems like one cannot run away from it.I mean,you don’t have to search far. Just go online or turn on the television and you are bombarded with all sorts. But in order to be the best we can be, getting the right information is essential. Yes, we may have to go out of your way to get  the right resources but it will always be worth it. It just takes a little discipline to stay off the wrong stuff but nothing good ever comes easy.

“Remember that while it may be easier to be like the crowd,it is far more rewarding to be your own person” -Orji Uchechukwu,2015. (lol…feeling like one orator sha.).


Hey Guys

So if you are reading this,you are reading my first work ever written for public consumption. How do i feel?Excited,i guess. Scared?definitely!Why?Because this is way out of my comfort zone. See,owning a blog has always been one of my dreams for a very long time. In fact,for as long as i can remember,i have always wanted to write…and I’ve always wanted people to read what i write.

To me,this is not just a blog,it is a vision that has been in my heart for ages. Truth is,sometimes i just take my note and scribble something and usually,it is for marks(school essays anyone…) or I may write just to vent. This time however, I’m writing for people who i do not know, who I’ve never met and who i may never meet to actually read,judge,like or criticize my work. Ever since i had this dream and even till now,questions have been going through my head like  ‘How would I do it?’…  ‘What if no one wants to read?’…’Will my opinions be controversial?’ blah blah blah

But you know one thing with dreams?While other people may not understand or it may look too small,too big,too shallow or plain impossible; to you,that dream is something infinitely precious. Like a two week old baby in the womb of a very expectant pregnant woman. No one sees it yet,even the mother herself. But does she know its there?You bet! . She is offered a glass of wine or a stick of cigarette but she says ‘no’ with a firm nod. Nothing should hurt this jewel,she thinks. Questions race through her brains everyday,she doesn’t understand the changes in her body,the discomfort,the unexpected rush of happiness or the heavy feel of fear that follows soon after. It does not feel pleasant all the time but the thought of her precious baby is more than enough to keep her going.

Is she not us?Pregnant with dreams? Calling out to us from inside. We look inward excitedly yet remain fearful cautious. We see possibilities yet the difficulties appear sharp and threatening like thorns surrounding a rosebush. Hope calls our name but fear halts our steps. But like a glowing ember, the dream refuses to die, instead it waits for just the slightest oxygen to rekindle it. So all we can do is take a deep breadth,close our eyes and let our dreams lead us as far as it can.

And what brought me into this philosophical mood this morning? Oh yeah,its my blog people! Standing ovation anyone?,lol. Please I would like to hear your responses,constructive criticisms and general comments. Email is orjiuchechukwukharis@gmail.com. Happy reading guys