Thursday, 27 April 2017


SICKLE CELL; WHEN LOVE IS A CRIME. (an excerpt from "A thing of the heart ")

I wish I don’t have to write something like this, I detest people that write this. Yet here I find myself writing it, some write it to point fingers and play the blame game while others write it to console their loved ones.
But as for me, I hope to create awareness. For there are people like me also, and I don’t want them to end up like me. This may be the last thing they remember me by, because no one really cares. Too bad it comes in form of a suicide note.

Life is not fair I know that, but isn’t life too unfair to me? I was born with Sickle cell anemia. Who is to be blame for my predicament? Is it my parents who followed their heart and got married or their heart for misleading them? Well, to play the blame game is too late now.
My life has been a mess, and it has never been rosy for me as a kid and even as I was growing up everything keeps falling apart. Sick today healthy tomorrow was and still my case.

I’m tired of this world, nothing has ever makes sense to me anymore. Being sick today and getting better tomorrow wasn’t my choice. But now I have the choice to end it.
I hate it then, when after months of absence from school I hear my teachers gossip about my sickle cell condition and also I hate having to watch other kids play and not been able to join them because of my condition. I need not to be told I was an outcast, I knew I was one. I hate the way those uncles and aunties pitiful eyes bore at me anytime they come visiting.
I’m done with hope; I’ve been there before. I’m done with change, I can’t remember what the word means again and patience and I broke up a long time ago.  I can’t keep putting on that fake plastic smile, my acting days are over. I am the true definition of failure, no thanks to my dad who make it known to me always how much of a useless child am. To him I’m a financial liability. My hatred for this world is mutual; I have a million reasons to believe it hates me too.  Say I’m depressed, but does the dead care?

My heart is so heavy, the voice warning me not to commit suicide sounds far away now. To the only person I care about but still hurt me to see her. If you are reading this, I’m dead already. I’m sorry if this hurt Mum, just know that I’m sick and tired of watching you stare at me on the sick bed and cry. For it hurts to watch you cry. And what hurts more is, knowing fully well that I am the cause of your pain. I feel relieved that I get to save you from the part of watching me die.

Thanks for all your efforts Mum, I know you love me unconditionally but I love you more to go. Tell the world I came; I saw but couldn’t conquer for I am the product of a criminal act of love.

Adieu world.

Monday, 24 April 2017

If only they know

If only they know.

One look at him stepping out of his Mercedes and you'll see the true definition of success. He came from rag to riches. He was nothing and now he is something.

His story...

He never knew his dad, he was too young to remember when he died. . The hardships they faced forced his mother to remarry.

His step father was abusive. One day, he came home from school only to hear that his step father had beaten his mother to death in a domestic quarrel and has since absconded.

With nothing and no one, he had lived on the streets, surviving on anything his hands could offer his stomach. A new chapter in his life opened when a local drug kingpin found him on the streets and took him in. He started selling drugs, the boss loved him because of his wit and honesty.  He never fails to deliver.
Before long he is at  the very top of drug distribution chain. He no longer touches or see drugs. All he deals with are numbers, money to be precise.
Many teenagers life are getting ruined by his drugs. He flooded the street with his drugs.
He lives a double life, in the day he is a business man and good Samaritan, but at night he is a ruthless drug lord. Everybody want to be like him, parents advice their children to be like him. For he is the true definition of success.

If only they know he is the cause for their pains, if only they know he is the reason their son is hooked on drugs, and have since stopped coming home. If only they knew it's his drugs that made their beautiful daughter become a patient in a mental health clinic. They would never celebrate him and pray their children turn out to be like him. Guys won't make silent prayers to have his type of money.
If only they know his story.
           Jawondo jr.

Sunday, 23 April 2017

Childless; love surely conquers

Childless; love surely conquers

As I watch at him eat his food silently at the dining I can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind. It's been four years since we are married and I've not had a child for him. I remember how we have fought through barriers before we could get married. Him being a Muslim and me a Christian, nobody wanted us to marry but we were hopelessly in love and you love conquered all.

He is caring, and loves me as much as I love him. He keeps telling me he never married me to be a baby making machine. Though I believe him, I know deep down sooner or later he will bow to the pressure from his family and friends to take another wife. I want him to be happy, I want us to be happy, I want to hold a child and to stop been flooded by emotions whenever I hold other people's child.

I hated how our neighbour Iya bisi use to act whenever her kids her around me, she beat her child yesterday because she ate at my place, a barren witch I over heard call me. But is she to blame? If not me.

I must have been lost in my thoughts for his touch brought of me to back life, what's wrong; he asked . Nothing; I replied.  But he knows me more than myself, he could tell what I was thinking.You are thinking again, he said with a little anger in his voice. I said nothing.

Then he held my hand kissed it and told me with all sincerity,  Our love has won before, this time it won't be different. I melted and was rest assured.

Playing hard to get.

Playing hard to get

So I finally tell her Ooo. 

That fine girl that has been giving me insomnia. Every night I'm wide awake thinking about her heavenly face. A thousand stars I would count just to please her.


You see, there is this part of me that has facilitated me been single for a long time now. Everytime I find myself liking a girl, there is this evil twin of mine that I can't seem to get rid off. He keeps making loose interest. The truth is I loose interest easily, It takes me a long time to fall in love, but to fall out of love. It takes me milliseconds.

Oya back to my story .

She's everything I want in a girl, I mean we have almost everything in common, except that I'm the male version of her. Our similarity is obvious like Pepsi and Coca Cola.
To be double sure that I'm in love, I  gave it time so that my evil twin can have it's way and make me loose interest, before I go an toast her.  But nay, thoughts of her stood still in my head.

After expressing my feelings for her. After exhausting all the punchlines my brain farm could harvest. She said nothing as if that's not worse enough,  she changed. She stopped picking my calls and now she's giving me one kain attitude on top WhatsApp.

She started replying me with the one word answers girls are notorious for. Make she just tell me "No" and lemme to mah fate. Because I don't think I can hold on any longer before my evil twin wins and I loose interest.

I think all girls should know one thing, there is a limit to playing hard to get. And me I cannor come and be begging for love oo. Pity date ain't my thing.

D way dis tin is doing me, I want to give up. Or maybe I've lost touch with this love thing coz its been a long time.

Help! I'm scarred for life.

Help I'm Scarred for Life
Today could have been just another Friday, wake-up, take a bath. Wear my starched native dress and go about my boring lecture routine. But no, this Friday was different.

This morning as I walked to the hostel bathroom to take a bath, my stomach rumbled, the type of rumbling that send signals to your yansh. That it's time to shit.

I ran as fast as I could to the toilet and on opening the door I was greeted by an horrible smell, but I shrugged it off. Months in Lagos hostel and you'll be used to the smell, Never did I know what I will meet, what I saw laying there in the water closet was a dark, enormous, olumo rock looking shit! staring at me with two brown spots that served as it's eyes.

I was nauseous, i ran out of the toilet as fast as I came and vomitted. My stomach dare not signal the urge to shit was gone. But the image is still in my head from morning till now.
I thought maybe if I write it down it will leave my head.  Pls somebody should come to my aid coz I'm scarred for life.

Friday, 21 April 2017

"6" foot something, undone puff puff and him.

So,... There he was pressing his palm against his cheek. With eyes red like someone that just took oshogbo weed. He just got slapped, but this is not just your everyday slap. You know that slap, the type of slap that comes out of a thick labourer's palm. Yes that's the the type of slap he got, that kept his ears ringing.
And what was his crime?  He had flirted with the man's girlfriend. And the man happened to be muscular and six foot something. In short he looks like a club bouncer.
His friend had told him,  he has bad taste in women but he never took them serious until now that his cheek burns and he could do nothing but walk away. 
As he walks away from the scene, he couldn't help but think of what attracted him to the lady. The lady looks like an undone puff puff. Perhaps it's his bad taste in women, he's happy his friend is not present or he would have given him the "I told you so" eyes.
"Hold the tears, don't cry". A voice warned in his head.
"Just cry and ease your heavy heart of it's burden" Another voice encouraged as he continues walking.
"You are a man for Godsake you'll look ridiculous crying" The voice continued.
But the last warning sound too far in his head for him to hear. As he took the advice lf the latter to ease the heart's burden. He cried.
Yes he cried, And it was the wailing woman type of cry.