My Storybooks

10/07/2024

Memories of Secondary School (MoSS)

OLD HABITS DIE HARD

Whenever I see my conjugal associate or anyone pouring the water from garri suspension before drinking it to remove the dirt, I am reminded that water is no more scare.

It was not the case about three decades ago when I was a boarding student in Lagos State Model College, Meiran.

The first two years - JS 1 and JS2 - were most affected. Water scarcity was a perennial problem during those years. The school authorities tried by bringing water trucks into the school on some days of the week.

Whenever the water trucks arrived, most activities were suspended to allow the students to get water. Each student kept his or her keg/bucket of water jealously.

Whenever the water finished, many students resorted to "rub and shine," a euphemism for application of cream on unwashed body before going to school.

I was a neat boy. I didn't do rub and shine.

Somehow, some of us managed to get our 4L kegs filled with water to bathe and drink on the days water was scarce. We got water by patiently leaving our kegs to fill from the tiny drops that the big water reservoir dispensed. It could take 1-2 hours for the 4L keg to get filled.

My surface area was small in those days, so I could manage to bathe with 3L of water. The remaining 1L of water was used to wash plates and drink.

So, why would I strain garri water to remove dirt when I could barely get water to drink?

It's 25 years after graduating from secondary school. Despite having enough water to drink, wash, and do everything I need to do now, I still do not strain my garri water.

Truly, old habits die hard...

24/04/2024

Don't Despise Professional Advice

During my NYSC program in Yobe State, 2009/2010, I was inspired to donate a safe waste disposal pit to my place of primary assignment, General Hospital, Nangere.

During my ward rounds, I had watched pupils from the public schools around the hospital playing happily with used needles, blood bags, and other infectious items that were disposed off to rot on the ground surface behind the hospital. I was uncomfortable watching the poor kids risking their lives ignorantly. No amount of dissuasion stopped them from coming again to play on the waste dump.

After about two months of enduring the pupils' unhealthy habit, God distilled an idea into me, "Why not donate a pit to the hospital?"

I was inspired by the idea but money was the challenge. The federal allowance was ridiculously low; the state allowance was not paid until after seven months of our stay.

I discussed my plan with Corps Pharmacist, Taiwo Lasisi, with whom I was posted to the hospital. She bought the idea and was ready to contribute money.

The next problem was how much the pit would cost.

I sought the generous service of my fellow Corps member, and Quantity Surveyor, Joseph Dodo. I told him the dimension of the waste pit I wanted.

He solved the problem easily; within few hours, he gave me a quotation. The money was more than what Taiwo and I could raise alone.

I wrote appeal letters stating the problem to the Emir of the community, Alhaji Muhammad Abubakar Ibn Grema, my locum employer, Dr Ben Egbo of Potiskum Medical Center, and one block industry. The community was a poor one with few commercial activities.

God had spoken to all the people I approached. They all donated about 75% of the money. Taiwo and I raised the balance.

The pit was sunk. We didn't spend more than the estimate Joseph Dodo made.

In all thy doings, don't despise professional advice.

Shalom!

02/03/2024

Meeting The Williams

Every time I remember my first encounter with my in-laws, I thank God that I had made up my mind to marry Aramide before visiting them.

They are Catholics. I am a Baptist. That distinction mattered to my father-in-law.

"My father will like you," Ara had said when I told her I would like to visit her parents. It was the second year into our relationship.

'The two of you have many things in common," she added as if I needed the moral support.

She had mentioned many times that her father and I approached life similarly. I guess that attracted me to her. She adored her father greatly.

Aramide had visited my parents twice.

"When do you plan to visit her parents?" my mother asked me after her second meeting with Ara.

"Ehmmm," I was undecided.

"Ehmm, what?" my mother's tone changed as if she was unhappy with my indecision. "That girl is a good girl. You better know what you are doing."

My mother is an assertive woman. She expresses her mind on issues that are important to her. I didn't need anyone to tell me that Ara had received her blessings as her daughter-in-law.

The reason I had not visited her parents was because Ara is their only child. Her parents would be overprotective and might be too emotional in their interactions with me. That concern made me tarry with my visit.

Three weeks after my mother's challenge, I decided to visit her parents.

Ara was excited. "I have been worried that you didn't see the need to visit my parents all this while," she teased me on the phone.

Ara effortlessly made a good first impression with my parents. I needed to do same during my visit to her parents.

I suddenly became too conscious of myself. I didn't like that. I bought a new shirt, a new pair of trousers, and had a haircut three days before the visit. I didn't do all that while defending my dissertations in school.

The scrutiny started at their security gate.

"I ask after Aramide," I told the security man who held me unnecessarily at the entrance into their palatial home. The man behaved as if he had offended his boss and needed to justify why he should still keep his job.

"There is no Aramide in this house," he replied.

I didn't believe my ears when he said that. I could not imagine being in the wrong address after missing my way twice that sunny afternoon.

"You mean Aramide Williams does not live here?" I asked in disbelief.

"You mean Deborah Williams?" he asked.

"Yes, Deborah!" I didn't know that Aramide did not answer her first name at home.

"Why you wan see am?"

Jeez! I mused.

Fortunately for me, I didn't have to answer his question. Aramide had appeared at the gate to usher me in.

"Your name is Deborah at home and I didn't know?" I asked her impatiently.

"Don't mind Mr Abdullahi (that's the security man's name). He prefers to call me Deborah. I hope he didn't harass you too much. The man can be funny at times."

"Harass is an understatement," I exaggerated.

She looked at me delightfully. I must have selected the right shirt. She is a fashionista.

"I am sorry for the security man's attitude. My parents worried why you had not arrived."

"I hope you put in a good word in my defence?"

"Don't you trust me?" she winked.

"Meet Prof Timilehin and Prof Adebola Williams, my dad and mum," Deborah (since that's her new name) introduced her parents rather officially.

Plastered on the walls in their living room were several photographs of her parents in academic gowns. In one of them, her father took a picture with Condoleezza Rice, the former United States Secretary of State.

I had not prostrated as flatly in my adult years like I did that day. "Good afternoon, daddy and mummy."

They both chorused, "You are welcome. Good afternoon."

What should be a social and informal visit was already appearing formal considering the corporate appearance of Ara's home.

I saw a guy relaxed in a sofa in their living room. Ara's mum mentioned that he was her cousin. He wore a wedding ring. He didn't appear friendly when I greeted him.

An inner voice warned me that he was invited to be a neutral judge of my encounter with them.

"What would you like to eat?" Ara's mum asked me.

Eat ke? I mused. "I took lunch before coming, ma,'" I lied.

"Not accepted," she said in Queen's English.

"You must eat something." She pressed a bell on a stool beside her and two ladies in black and white uniform appeared.

"Pound yam and make vegetable soup for six people," she instructed them.

"Yes, ma," the ladies chorused and disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

But for the blank-faced cousin and the overzealous security man, all was well so far.

"Bosun," Ara's father cleared his throat and turned to me. "Tell me about yourself."

Aramide had told me that her father was a straight-to-the-point man.

For some seconds, and typically of oral examinations back in school, I was unsure whether the man wanted a summary of what I had been doing with my life or a 117-page autobiography.

Aramide sat beside her mum. She looked at me as if she was saying, "Babe, go ahead and do your thing. I trust you."

God gave me utterance. I didn't disappoint her. While her parents nodded approvingly, she found it difficult to hide her blush. For the first time since I entered the house, her blank-faced cousin looked temporarily pleased.

An inner voice reassured me, "You are doing fine so far."

At that moment, I remembered that I bought two sets of gold pens for her parents since both of them were academics. I forgot them in my car. I excused myself and went to get them.

Immediately I gave Ara's mum hers, she exclaimed in excitement, "Timi, these are the pens I was talking about. I forgot them in my hotel room in Manchester when I last traveled."

She looked at me as if I handed her a jewel.

"Bosun, thank you very much. They are beautiful. I hope mine is finer than my husband's own." We all laughed.

"Thank you, Bosun. This is thoughtful of you," her father said. He opened his set and gave two gold pens to the blank-faced guy.

Perhaps on cue, Aramide left the living room for a long time.

Her dad cleared his throat and said, "I am sure you know that Ara is our only child."

I was not sure if the statement was a threat or caution.

"I am aware, sir," my voice was barely audible.

"Relax," my inner voice encouraged me.

"Is it appropriate to assume that you are visiting us because you have genuine intentions for our daughter, our only child?" Ara's mum asked.

Maintaining eye-contact, and looking from her mum to her dad, and the blank-faced cousin, I replied, "I am convinced and happy to tell you that I love Aramide. Amongst many virtues, she is a self-driven and focused lady. I couldn't have wanted another wife, sir and ma."

Her mum smiled; her dad nodded in satisfaction too. Her cousin gave a non-committal look.

Her parents asked questions on several areas - religion (especially the fact that we belonged to different denominations), financial management, parenting, work-life balance/integration, etc.

I did my best to be as diplomatic as possible. Her parents voiced few of their reservations to my responses where they deemed fit.

I had to ask for a bottle of water at a point.

Ara's mum was about to ask me another question when she dashed into the sitting room.

"Daddy and mummy, it's okay for today now. Do you want to ask all the questions in one day?" Aramide Deborah Williams came to my defence at the right time.

She touched a little tear in her eyes. She felt embarrassed and some pity for me from the barrage of questions I had answered. I offered her my handkerchief to keep her face dry.

"What did you do to our daughter?" her father asked me in a friendly manner.

"Left to her, we would not have asked you any question at all. No parents give their only daughter in marriage without clarifying issues."

"I understand you, sir. I would do the same thing as you. I forgot to mention earlier that Aramide is a kind lady. She just demonstrated her kindness by asking that further questions be kept till another time," I said boldly.

I looked at Ara; she looked offended that her parents were cross-examining me.

I held her hand and told her I was fine with the encounter so far with her parents.

"Are you sure, Bosun?" she asked me.

“Yes.”

While her parents looked on, she moved close to me and whispered, "Don't mind them ooo. They like you. They just want to harass you a bit."

She then stood and walked gracefully to the kitchen.

And it has been a walk of grace with her ever since...

27/02/2024

The Stubborn Beef

At a party, in my company was my conjugal flatmate. We were served our food.

While I was doing justice to mine, she couldn't cut her meat with cutlery into small pieces for ease of swallowing.

I pretended as if I did not see the trouble she had with the gargantuan piece of meat. I expected her to use her hands to get the job done.

After seven minutes of the stubborn edible tissue not greeing for her, she said, "Babe, help me now."

"Ok," I went to work.

As a proud Yoruba boy, I cleaned my hand with tissue paper and grabbed the meat to divide it with my teeth.

How 90% of the meat ended in the distal part of my esophagus is still difficult to understand.

I don explain taya.

26/12/2023

My brother Ikenna wanted to open his gift box on Christmas Day – 25th of December 2020. My mother did not allow him to open it. He began to cry.

“IK, wait till tomorrow. You should open your gift box on Boxing Day,” my mother told my brother. She hugged him and cleaned his tears with her hand.

“Mummy, Chinyere wanted to open her gift box too,” Ikenna pointed at me.

“No, mummy. It is not true. I just looked at the box,” I quickly told my mum.

My mother would have frowned at me if I had not explained why I touched my gift box.

My mother made us behave properly always. She made us greet older people every time we saw them. She taught us many things including covering our mouths when we coughed. We should not pick our food to eat if it fell on the floor. We should wash our hands with soap and water after using the toilet.

“Chichi, your younger brother watches what you do. Do the right things always,” she told me. Ikenna stopped crying after our mother spoke to me.

My name is Chinyere Obi. That Christmas period, I was seven years old. Ikenna was five years old. We hail from Imo State. My father is a printer. He brought many new books home every day. He made me read some of them. Ikenna could not read well yet. My mother is a teacher. She teaches English language in our school. Ikenna and I attend Debo Nursery and Primary School.

We are Catholics. On Christmas Day, we went to St Kizito Catholic Church, Iju, Lagos. After church, we visited the beach. We ate our Christmas food on the beach. We met many people there.

Ikenna and I touched the beach water with our feet. The water was very cold. We saw much water at the beach. We walked on white sand on the beach.

When we got home from the beach, I helped my mother in the kitchen. We made Akpu and Oha soup. Ikenna liked the food. He ate a lot of it.

“If you want to open your gift boxes tomorrow, the two of you should go and sleep now,” my mother told us. The time was 9:30 pm. The two of us went to our bedroom.

Ikenna and I shared the same bed. He snored when he slept. His noise disturbed my sleep.

We could not wait to open our gift boxes the following day.

Let your 6 to10-year-old kids read the concluding part of the story via

Chinyere's Questions Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps - December 26, 2023   Celebrating ChristmasMy brother Ikenna wanted to open his gift box on Christmas Day – 25th of December 2020. My mother did not allow him to open it. He began to cry. “IK, wait till tomorrow. You sh...

11/07/2023

Misanthropy: An Inadvertent Outcome of New Media

With our mobile devices, we are gradually thriving without the need for one another. This is a dangerous trend. Read more👇🏾

Misanthropy: An Inadvertent Outcome of New Media Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps July 11, 2023 I speak for Nigeria; before the 21st century, communal associations were unavoidable. We visited our friends; we held physical parties; we played outdoor games with our neighbours, and...

06/07/2023

Are The gods Asleep?

Her crime was her beauty. She had always been delectable. At birth, many well-wishers questioned her paternity.

On the day of her christening, a neighbour whispered to another, "Are we sure Mr. Kojo is the father of this fine girl?"

While her parents were dark in complexion, T**e was light-complexioned. She had delicate features that made her the envy of her peers. Her father had a coarse look; her mother was neutral. T**e grew up dealing with uncomplimentary teases about her looks being different from other members of her family.

Unperturbed, she did well in all areas of life. As a teenager, T**e ignored advances from young boys, and when she became much older, men of different social classes visited her father's house. They all had one mission even when they pretended that they had other reasons for their visit...

Are The gods Asleep? Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps July 06, 2023 Her crime was her beauty. She had always been delectable. At birth, many well-wishers questioned her paternity.On the day of her christening, a neighbour whispered to another, "Are we sure Mr. Kojo is the father....

05/04/2023

Conjugal Vibes 2

For a very long time, I have lived in the delusion of being a million-yard wife material due to my deft culinary gift. My husband is not as impressed as I had expected.

"Babe, anything you cook, I would eat. Stop stressing yourself in the kitchen after a busy day's job," he says often. I find this remark encouraging always.

He feels it is not fair to occupy myself with cooking always when we both spend equal hours at work. Most times, he gets home before me. He can't boil egg to save his life, so he waits for me to get home.

True to his words, he orders cooked food for both of us on his way from work.

I don't like eating other people's foods, but the meals from 'D'lette Cuisine (DC), a deli in our neighborhood, humble me.
On some days, Kolapo suggests we eat in DC. We are in our second year of marriage, so it's easy to just dash out to eat and go back home to sleep.

One day, he was justifiably angry with me. He had asked me to help him with an Excel analysis of a project in his office.

Conjugal Vibes 2 Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps April 05, 2023 For a very long time, I have lived in the delusion of being a million-yard wife material due to my deft culinary gift. My husband is not as impressed as I had expected."Babe, anything you cook, I would eat. Stop str...

05/02/2023

Dear Guardians,

Your kids/wards can continue reading the short story, Sola And The Scrabble Contest. Chapter 2 has been uploaded.

Visit https://pendoctor.blogspot.com/2023/02/sola-and-scrabble-contest.html?m=1.

Read and share.

Chapter 1 My name is Sola Olakunle. I did not like my father's company much like my mother's. My mother understood what a four-year-old bo...

04/02/2023

Sola And The Scrabble Contest (Chapter 1)

My name is Sola Olakunle. I did not like my father's company much like my mother's. My mother understood what a four-year-old boy needed. She baked a lot. She ensured we had enough chocolates, cakes, and biscuits at home. Because of the immediate benefit of eating a small portion of what she made while in the kitchen with her, I volunteered many times to assist her in cooking or baking...

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Published and sold since 2020, the short story, Sola And The Scrabble Contest (my first children e-book), has been read by many kids at home and in their schools.

I now declare it a free copy, available on my blog, Pendoctor.

Get your 6 years+ kids to read Chapter 1 and answer the comprehension questions via

https://pendoctor.blogspot.com/2023/02/sola-and-scrabble-contest.html?m=1

Stay tuned for subsequent chapters.

Read and share. Cheers!

Chapter 1 My name is Sola Olakunle. I did not like my father's company much like my mother's. My mother understood what a four-year-old bo...

01/01/2023

Cheating Death

My friend, Lateef, was not expected to celebrate his first birthday. Before he was born, his father had lost all the three children he had from his first wife. All three kids died from a mysterious disease at about their tenth month of life. Other families had similar tragedies. Some kids were lucky; they survived the protracted febrile disease that became epidemic at that time.

Lateef's father, Babakin, like other men in the community, refused the advice by the men and women who wore white coats. The officers were thought to have brought strange practices in the treatment of diseases. The gods of the land would be offended if the villagers followed the recommendations of the men and women from the city.

Their gods had been their health custodian for several years. Nobody dared to try foreign ideas. Soponna and Ogun were feared.

Babakin drove his first wife out of the house one midnight after their third child died. He blamed her for the misfortunes in his life - deaths of their children, low yield of his crops, and other unpleasant things. All pleas to take her back fell on deaf ears.

Babakin married Lateef's mother, Aduke, eight months after dismissal of his former wife.

Aduke became pregnant within three months. She had heard about the deaths of Babakin's former children. She had several bad dreams throughout her nine months of pregnancy.

Lateef was born a healthy boy on a rainy day. The former children were born during the dry season. Babakin was hopeful that the downpour meant good luck.

On the eight day, the boy was named "Kasimawo" (Let's continue to observe him). Babakin hoped the gods would understand his misery and spare his child.

Kasimawo grew differently compared to his late siblings. While they began to have recurrent cough, diarrhea, and fever as early as their third month of life, Kasimawo remained hale and hearty. His father's optimism increased with every month the boy refused to die.

When Aduke was pregnant, Babakin had found her among other pregnant women listening to the men and women in white coat. He rebuked her not to bring bad luck like his first wife into his home by associating with the uninitiated officers from the city. Aduke did not contest his assertions.

Kasimawo grew well. Three days after he clocked 11 months, he had a fever. Babakin called his priest to appease the gods to spare the poor boy. An elixir was given to him by the priest. The fever persisted. The priest encouraged Babakin to be strong. He told him to accept the decision of the gods. Aduke listened to their conversation. She had been warned not to touch the boy during the sickness. Only his father had access to him. She was told that her breast milk had become toxic to the boy.

After the priest left, she ran into the room where the boy was with his father and confessed all she had done.

"I have been taking Kasimawo to see the doctors and nurses since he was born," Aduke began a long tale in tears. Babakin's mouth was ajar in disbelief. He was shocked that his wife disobeyed him on such sensitive matter.

"Kasimawo has been healthy all along because of the regular vaccinations and prompt treatment the officers from the city gave him whenever I noticed something unpleasant in him. I learnt that your dead children were not given any of such treatment throughout their brief life. I didn't want you to bury another child, so I had to try what you had not done all along. My husband, kindly allow me take Kasimawo to Dr Lateef. The doctor will know what to do. Please, let this be a secret between us. The priest has done his best yet the boy remains sick. We have nothing to lose by trying the medications from the city." Aduke remained on her knees as she advocated for the life of her son.

Babakin reasoned with her though with doubt. They set out for the community clinic in the thick darkness of the night. Kasimawo was admitted. Tests were done. Babakin watched as the men and women in white coat gave his sick boy injections and cared for him as if he was their son. He was pleasantly surprised.

Within twenty four hours, Kasimawo began to eat. He stopped vomiting; the fever resolved. He lived.

Babakin apologized to Aduke for misleading her. He saluted her bravery to disobey him while doing the right thing.

On Kasimawo's first birthday, Dr Lateef and other officers in white coat gave him a cake. They had heard about the preventable deaths of Babakin's first three children. They counseled him on the benefits of orthodox medicine. They reassured him that the gods would not be offended. "We have never spoken against your gods," Dr Lateef affirmed.

In response, Babakin appreciated them. He promised to become an ambassador of orthodox medicine in the town. Surprisingly, he told all that attended his son's birthday celebration that the boy would no more answer Kasimawo. "In honour of Dr Lateef, my son henceforth should be called Lateef. I hope he will one day work with you," Babakin wished...

17/08/2022

Saving Our Education

It's no more news that the standard of education in Nigeria has dropped. Most adults remember with nostalgia the beautiful times they had in schools in the years predating the 21st century.

Government schools that used to accommodate children of all social classes are not reassuring anymore. We have just few Nigerian public schools that are recommendable. It's a pity.

In recent years, students who had a smooth sail in primary and secondary schools get frustrated in tertiary school for different reasons. Not everyone is gifted with grit and perseverance. If the learning environment is not conducive, a lot of students become unproductive. The country suffers ultimately.

How can we salvage the situation? All of us have one obligation or the other. I have few suggestions.

1. Family Planning: Once upon a time, the number of kids was a measure of financial prowess. Also, agrarian families utilized their kids on their farms, therefore, they needed a big family. Education was relatively cheaper in yesteryears, hence, some couples could optimize their fecund potentials.

All marriages are blessed, with or without kids. Every household should determine at onset of marriage, and as income grows, how many kids they can train independently. The government cannot bear the burden of education alone anymore.

2. Student Loans - Many western countries where quality education is universally available in both private and public schools offer student loans to persons interested in tertiary education. Truth be told, the required quality of education is capital-intensive to sustain. To maintain the overhead of staff, carry out researches, and train students is not cheap. With student loans that have a considerable moratorium, every indigent student should be able to access soft loans. Single-digit interest rate should be applied to such loans. Banks that offer student loans should be given some tax relief to encourage them.

At the point of being offered the loan, every student (witnessed by their referees) must be made to sign a bond not to leave the country until the loan is paid. This way, Nigeria will not lose bright minds she has trained to already developed countries.

3. Standardization of schools - Charlatans are now school owners. Some proprietors or heads of schools don't understand the rudiments of education. This is common in suburbs where government regulation is minimal. Personnel in Ministry of Education should not be lazy; they should frequently visit all communities to monitor and evaluate schools. Parents and students should get value for their money.

4. Leadership - Till otherwise reviewed, we should increase the academic requirement to hold political office to possession of Senior School Certificate with good grades. It's okay to be interested in becoming an artisan after secondary school. Well-educated artisans can make good leaders. A leader cannot give what he doesn't have. Let's stop playing politics with our lives. Most developed countries have well -educated persons in positions of power. We should not be different and expect our schools to do well.

5. Appropriation of funds - Corruption is killing us faster than diseases. The billions of naira that cannot be accounted for can rescue our education. I have alluded to the fact that salaries of politicians are too much if we want to have a sustainable development. Borrowing for sustenance kills the economy. Developed countries borrow for infrastructural developments, not for paying bloated overhead bills.

Let me rest my pen...

Shalom!