“…I mean I could care less what another man and another man do behind closed doors” confessions of Okechukwu Ofili from his book manuscript ‘How Intelligence Kills’. This did not make much sense until yesterday when the news of a male celebrity coming out of the closet made headlines and I wondered why_totally uninterested. Good thing I was in a reflective mood and was on a brink of depression.

Before I go further, let me clear up a few things. This is not a review. This is not a “hit” stunt. This is like no other ‘article’ I have written and I honestly do not care if this offends anyone. I do not support and I do not condemn the act of same sex having carnal knowledge of each other. There is ONE who has the power to do that. I SIMPLY and ABSOLUTELY do not care about sexual orientations except when wicked eyes light up every time little children or defenseless victims are within close radius. I have a vision and it is NOT in any way related to the preference of humans on who to mate with except maybe linked to influencing how abusers should be punished. DEATH.
So Wentworth Miller is gay and I am broke still looking to make a couple of billions. He is gay and thousands are dying all over the world. He is gay and shameless NIGERIAN looters in yards of stolen cloth continue to smile to the bank strutting around like honest men while honest men hide in the shadows in shameful and dirty threadbare garbs-afraid to demand change and oppressed because they fail to take a stand. Do we know who these men are? Read the news often and get interested in affairs of your country-Nigeria. It is your duty.
He is gay! I ask SO WHAT?
We have got bigger fish to fry. I apologize to the Vegetarians but some of us actually LOVE flesh. We do our best to eat your share just like you eat our share of weeds I mean fruits and vegetables.
Here is the crux of the matter. We ought to make life better and not bother about who wrote letter stating terms for declining an invitation to attend a function. We make issues of people’s orientation forgetting our own. How do we make life what it is meant to be? What should be our orientation?
What do we stand for? Really?
I read a “manuscript” recently ‘How Intelligence Kills by Okechukwu Ofili’- Our dangerous addiction to intelligence, religion, respect and more he says. Many days past and I still find some theories and opinions unequivocally insightful and liberating, some almost disturbing and some humorous. A good terrific read. This book manuscript made quite an impression and I am glad I asked to proofread read it. Mind you, I did not add an alphabet!!!
His views on suppressing life’s essence in the name of societal expectation and acceptable standard truly reveal the annihilation (pardon the exaggeration) of real ingenuity. His calls to action were noble and clearly outlined but I dare say theoretical. Note I did not say impossible. He mentioned the ‘anti-ajebota’ and ‘wetin-concern-me’ mentality that most Nigerians have developed as a shield against the harsh and unfair reality of broken down systems where everything goes and no one is held accountable save the nameless man that knows no one. Spirituality and the promise of paradise where there is no sorrow keeps the ‘frustrated’ man hopeful while living in humiliating and demeaning situations in hunger, anger and bitterness. May I say that it is easier to make change and better lives than actually getting into “paradise”. I don’t know about you but I am not subscribing to suffering on earth because of promise of Paradise that I cannot guarantee. Man dey sin everyday and na by Grace we all dey live. Ergo, making Heaven should not be substituted for impoverish living.
…….Only Fela could have said it best: “Nigerians were suffering and smiling” – a situation that he blamed on the religiously influenced dogmatic optimism that possessed Nigeria. An optimism that not only isolated Nigerians from the apparent poverty they faced, but also isolated the Government from its social responsibility to its people. According to Fela, religion had made Nigeria dangerously optimistic…hence our dangerous addiction to religion…” curbed from “How Intelligence Kills”

Do we then throw religion and our beliefs away? Do we now embrace nothingness? I say no. Every man should believe in what is Right and what is True but this I tell you.
Get involved in making notable changes by answering the call to team up and lend your voice to worthy causes. Don’t analyze sexual orientation and escapades of ‘celebrities’ or sit in shadows discussing important National issues and reeling out brilliant executable ideas but sign up for seminars on leadership and change. Make it your business to be involved in politics. Get the Nigerian Constitution Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999(1) and join or start a political party. Why can’t we the youth have a political party right here: on social media platform and register it with INEC when we have dedicated and accountable persons ready to take on the affairs of our country. Who is ready to go in depths with me on this?
Take a stand when you are deprived of your RIGHTS as a citizen of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Take a stand when your fellow humans are being roasted. Take a stand when they are being abused. Say something when your Constituent has only one water tank of 500 liters to service a community of over 5000 people, poor or absence of infrastructures and increased tales of woes.
Get involved in the change you want to see.
Stand for what is right.
This is what I stand for; this is what I care about.


COURTING BAIDA-The Free Book Download

In a twist, Baida becomes a fugitive. Not going to say anymore. You should get your copy and please send the link.


Praise for the works of
@maximusoptimus1………Uneñ’s pro style is fluid. Almost as if you are having a personal conversation with the characters. An excellent plot.
@forswill2…….I could not put my phone down until the last page. Her easy flow and twist of characters is totally engaging. Never one you can predict. Follow her blog. I have.
@okadabooks…………..An amazing read. We are proud.
Nkechi Kalu……….The story line is fantastic and the sequence is natural; almost addictive. Her humor finds expression in all her writings. This is better read than told. Uneñ is a natural. Good Job.
@rekkyrowls………Really enjoyed reading your book, hope there’s more to come.
@doczeez………I knew at #WriteRight that you were a terrific raconteur. The plots are absolutely real and well thought out. A new breed of Nigerian writer.
Seyi Bello………Always a fan of Uneñ’s works. Proud of you girl.
@jado4real007………I love every post. I believe in your love stories.
@walt_Shakes…………Really impressed. It was one good read in a long while.

Click and Get your copy here! COURTING BAIDA

So from me to you, Enjoy and do not forget to send in your reviews and SHARE LINK!!!

“Aight, ama leave you to enjoy now” ***walks out gangster stylee.Hehehe***


african beauty

Four years ago, I discovered that the only thing that kept my interest for more than 48 hours was providing business solutions that were ridiculously simple yet totally effective in increasing profit margins. This was in no way related to the phrase ‘the place of the woman is in the kitchen’ that was constantly poured as hot coal tar into my orifices with the hope that it would melt aspirations and solidify to societal conformations. Well, it didn’t and after these past years, I can say one thing for sure; the place of the AFRICAN woman is definitely not the kitchen. It is in adding her quota to humanity at every level she finds herself.
Largely, in every African society, the definition of success for an African woman can be as thus;
“Once upon a time,
Tutu gets married to Yulu.
Yulu can afford the basics.
They had SONS
…and daughters.
He treated her with respect”
The End.

This definition of success for the African Woman is ridiculously limited and expressly determined by the eternal patriarchal system and cultural climate that has been dutifully instilled by society and recycled over hundreds of years least she be ostracized for having any other definition. One may add that this definition defies the law of purpose.
Josephine M. Kiamba in her paper “Women and Leadership Positions: Social and Cultural Barrier to success” points out that culture and cultural expectations tightly holds the reins to aspiration of leadership positions in both private and public sector of the government while noting that the African woman pays a higher price in finding a niche where she can productively apply self for the benefit of mankind. This is because the ‘preparatory work’ involved as an African woman in following a vision is much more difficult than a man’s who is generally accepted by all as having the exclusive right to public life.
Some authors and papers have made premises on the fact that women are not always on the receiving end but that they actually enjoy some inalienable privileges. Why this may be true on issues such as being the priestess of a shrine or walking in front of the man for protection (as was the case in this article “African culture and the status of Women: The Yoruba Example by O.O. Familusi, Ph.D.), the questions I ask are these;
1. How much are these “inalienable” privileges worth in the face of finding purpose and contribution to societal development?
2. How does these “privileges” undo or cushion the lifelong damaging effect of the inferior complex imposed on the African Woman?
Clearly, an African woman that aspires to be a success story is labeled and tagged as loose and unfit by the same society she sets out to better especially in areas of politics, business and entertainment. Many say that a woman in politics must have graced the beds of political godfathers and a woman who drives a good car must be a mistress of a ‘big man’. What happens to hard work and the reward that comes with it? I dare not ask.
“Despite efforts made to ensure that female representation is achieved at all levels, women are still underrepresented in many government and non-government organizations particularly in position of power and leadership” De la Rey, 2005. This comes on the heels of cultural stamp of subordination, the imbibed servant hood mentality via upbringing and the societal limitation and roadblocks at every turn from birth to death.
In Yoruba culture and other tribes across Africa, a two day old baby boy is superior to a female regardless of age. Inheritance is right only meant for the male child. A woman can be inherited. Proverbs portray woman as less important and an immoral entity. A man is allowed, encouraged and hailed to have mistresses and extra wives. A widower is hardly accused of killing his wife and can remarry in weeks while a widow is the killer in almost every situation and must stay at least a year before thinking of the possibility of remarrying. Western Education is good only for male children attributable to the fact that a woman is seen as property and beast of burden at the mercy of the pleasure of the husband. The man has the right to public life.
The list is endless.
This brings to mind the adage that says “call a man a goat long enough and he will truly bleat”.
The African Woman is met with stringent obstacles in penetrating the already unenabling environment for local companies and entrepreneurship as well as in political circles. The socio-economic climate is just as tough. Tsitsi Dangarembga from Zimbabwe in her interview with BBC News (BBC News, 2005) gave reasons for fewer women in position. Some include the fear of victimization from fellow women and men stemming from cultural expectation, lack of unity among women themselves, undue competition for resources and less time available for organization because of multiple roles. Excellence is therefore sacrificed for cultural acceptable standard of being a good marriage material-meek and submissive.
While there is absolutely nothing wrong with being the good wife, there should be ‘free passes’ for young African women who aspire to excel in the face of the ordinary. In this regard, there comes the need for continuous reorientation of the older generation, provision of networking and mentoring platforms to strengthen self-image and worth towards nurturing future leaders. This is not in view to eradicate our identity as African Women on the platform of civilization but taking advantage of human resources in our society.
This I dare to say.
To be successful as an African Woman; you would have to be two men combined.

Uneñ Ameji, a writer and serial entrepreneur is the Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger published on Amazon and Okadabooks She writes short African Love Stories, share thoughts and state opinions on A Nigerian, Uneñ divides her time between her passions-writing, real estate and developing ideas for Non-Profit Organizations and Businesses. The PDF Business Bank on is her latest business solution. For more information about upcoming books, email her at or follow @unenameji on twitter.


I rang the bell and waited few seconds before jumping the low fence to avoid getting soaked from the huge rain droplets. What if I was not the only one jumping the fence I thought as I dashed to the front door. An hour had passed and she was yet to call me.

Two steps up the front porch and I saw them in an embrace through the slightly opened curtain blinds. I stopped. They looked cozy-almost perfect for each other. A vein twitched as I watched silently and when she tiptoed to give him a kiss, I was vexed. I walked back to my car and drove home in fury.
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t just looking out for her but somehow I had gotten attached. Way too attached.

Here I was worried and she was all chummy with her ex. I may just have the knack for picking women with problems I told myself. And why was I vexed anyways? There was absolutely nothing between us. Oh well, the memory of the interrupted kiss still lingered but that was not enough reason to lay claims on her. I paused at the thought.
That was exactly what I was doing. Laying claims in Naboth’s vineyard. I gave a spiteful chuckle. Naboth’s vineyard indeed. Perhaps setting things up with Wande may just be the right thing.
…….or not. She wasn’t the type of woman that would understand me. Baida was. I knew that.
It wasn’t an option I concluded as I gave a loud blare. I was home in less than ten minutes.
What were they doing now? I tortured myself.

God help me.

I drove in roughly after Andrew opened the gate. Yomi was out and came around the car as I stepped down.
‘All good?’ he asked as he approached in his boxers and ear phones.
‘Go put on some clothes and stop walking around my house naked! Can you at least do that?’ I shouted and slammed the door as I walked angrily to the house.
‘Baida?’ he called and I stopped to look at him.
‘I don’t want to talk about it’ I turned to go into the empty house.
Was it so obvious?
‘Wande is in your room’ he informed quietly. I came to a halt just then. If I continued to my room, there was one outcome.

I did not need more blackmailing sex. I wanted Baida and I wanted her now.
‘Get her out of here’ and I marched back to my car. It was funny but Yomi always related with Wande better.
I saw Wande standing in a pair of shorts and bra in my rear mirror as I drove out. She must have heard me come in and was down to tempt me as usual. Sadly, I did not stir at the thoughts of our wicked sessions.
‘Urrrgh’ I yelled in frustration. Until I met her, I was having a normal life.
The drive around town was senseless. The image of Baida in his arms kept eating at me. There was one way to get over the stifling jealousy that was drowning me.

I drove to her house.
The quiet lightless house stood in the dark and I prayed she was awake. Well, if she wasn’t, I’d wake her.
I jumped the low fence as usual and walked up the front door. I held the doorbell down for a minute and I saw the light come on. It was 10:40 pm.
‘Leke, is that you?’ she asked. Her voice was sleepy.
‘Yes’ I said as I heard the door click.
There she stood in male boxers and night top that fell from her shoulders. She looked freshly scrubbed devoid of her makeup with puffy sleepy eyes. Her lips were pink and swollen.

Momentarily, the image of her kissing Dan flashed in my head. My face tightened and I swallowed tightly.
‘I am sorry I didn’t call as promised’ she said closing the door behind me.
‘You didn’t’ I turned to look at her. She sensed my tone.
‘You are not angry, are you?’ she looked at me with an innocent look.
‘I am glad you noticed’ I said sarcastically. I could see the outline of her body and I tried in vain to keep my eyes from staring at her chest. And those lips!
She affected me bad.
I wanted her so bad and at same time I wanted to keep her. Keep her for me. I swallowed again as she walked to take the couch and gave a small pat.
‘Come seat’ she indicated and I walked slowly. I was past anger now and watched her with fascination as one would with a new toy.
‘I am sorry I didn’t call. Just too much drama’ she waved and her chest gave a gentle push. She looked lovely with her hair down. It was scattered and I found myself smiling.
I sat beside her. She smiled and sneaked into my arms warming me with her body.

She was so soft and warm. I gathered her into my arms and took a deep breath of her scented hair. Smelt more of apple to me. Aren’t all hair product apples? How would I know? I took another deep sniff. Apples I concluded.
‘Thank you for coming back’ she murmured.
‘I saw you kiss him’ I squeezed my eyes.
‘I know. I saw you leave’ she said simply. I raised her chin to look into her eyes.
‘You did?’ I asked surprised.
‘Yes’ she smiled sweetly. She gave a playful nose rub and smiled again.
‘Kiss me” she said with a playful wink.
Well, what can I say?
The Lady’s wish was my command.
Kiss her I did. She opened slowly and teased as I got deeper.
I could kiss her forever and the question slipped me for the first time.
‘Be mine Baida’ I said against her lips.
She stopped abruptly. Eyes searching mine, chest heaving. Her lips had my signature now and I stirred.

‘It is late’ she smiled weakly and made to stand up. She was tactfully avoiding the comment. I held her back and gave a little tickle. She jumped and giggled as I carried her up.
‘Put me down Leke’ she twisted but held on tightly.
‘I will fall’ she laughed as I climbed her stairs.
‘You are totally out of line’ she said as I opened the door to the bedroom I saw her enter the previous night and dropped her on the bed in an embrace.
‘Drop me, drop me’ she giggled. Her hair spreading on the white sheets.
‘You are beautiful Baida’ I admired as she laughed.
‘You are handsome Leke’ she said looking into my eyes with pouted lips. I found it extremely humorous and laughed out loud.
‘Shhhhsssh! I have got neighbors’ she said and we laughed some more.
‘So what did you two talk about?’ I asked as we both stopped laughing minutes later. I was still lying in her arms pressed against her firm breasts.
‘Nothing really’ she said with another playful nose rub. I gave a tickle and she struggled playfully.
‘The cozy embrace is nothing?’ I pressed.
‘Let’s say we buried the hatchet’ she smiled sadly.
‘And the kiss sealed it I bet’ I insinuated. She gave a playfully push and got up.
‘So, what’s with mommy-bride?’ she asked going over to her dressing mirror. The mood was lost.

‘Working on it’ I answered truthfully.
‘Good’ she said walking to her window. She peeped out and stood quietly.
‘What is that?’ I asked coming to stand behind her.
‘I think we have got visitors’ she looked past me to the wall clock.
It was 11:57pm now.
‘Are you expecting visitors?’ I asked suddenly at alert.
‘No’ she went to lock her door.
‘Who are they?’ I asked sensing trouble.
‘They must be from Dan’ she said without thinking before going to her wardrobe. She pulled out a pistol. At that point, I stepped back.
‘Whoa!’ I raised an eye brow.
‘Please be quiet’ she went back to the window and we watched as the shadows stood still whispering. Looked at the house and we bent down simultaneously to avoid been noticed. They went round and came back to the front door. Just then, a car drove past and gave a light horn few buildings down the street.

It was like a call off signal because few seconds later, the men in dark clothing jumped the low fence confirming my earlier thoughts and disappeared into the night.

We stood still and watched ourselves.
‘Is that licensed?’ I asked as she opened her wardrobe and set it down.
‘Does it bother you?’ she asked.
‘Of course it does. Why do you have a gun in your house?’ I asked coming to stand before her.

I definitely knew how to pick them.

‘For protection?’ she said rolling her eyes and walking away from me. She peeped out of the window one more time.

This was totally unbelievable. Here I was leaving Wande because she was a nag and going after a firearm weirdo. I found it humorous and I startled her with my resonating laughter.
She smiled too and joined the laughter suspiciously.
‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked going to her bathroom.
‘I find it funny’ I said going to stand by the door. She stood by the sink, a quick bond of her hair and splashed water on her face continuously.
‘I’m glad you are laughing’ she said looking at me with a sad smile. The water had soaked through the night top and I could see outline of her firm breasts. I swallowed harder now as I studied her. She was really suffering inside and I was drawn to it.
The walk to her was unprepared as I took her in an embrace and ran my hand down her back in a gently caress.
‘You will be fine’ I murmured into her hair. She took in a deep breath and seconds later felt warm tears stain my shirt. Her eyes were wet and red. She took another deep breathe.
‘Ssshhh. You are safe’ I stroked the more with small kisses on her head. We stood still for few minutes while she quietly let her tears fall.
‘Thank you’ she said raising her eyes to meet mine. I never tell a crying woman to stop. Somehow, I think tears should be let out. Let the rains fall.
‘Any time’ I smiled cleaning her tears as she looked at me.
‘Gosh! You must think I am some crying baby’ she said trying to leave my arms and timidly lowering her eyes. I held her.
‘No, I think you absolutely cute’ with that I bent down and planted a kiss on her inviting lips as she sniffled in the tears. She exhaled deeply as I continued the assault on her supple lower lip and grazing her chest with my fingers. Slowly, her hands rounded my neck and she gave in to the sweet moment that I had long waited for.
The hair bond was removed in minutes and her top followed suit seconds later. Eager and responsive as I rested her against the wall, she was soon heaving and pushing against me; her small fingers massaging the back of my head and sucking on my tongue. That was my cue.

Picking her up, I carried her back to her bed and dropped her carefully stopping a moment to discard my shirt.

The night had just begun.


He slept like a mother bear. His big arms wrapped around me made it difficult to turn and I smiled shamefully at the memory of what we did last night. I blushed. God! He was insatiable and never have I freely given myself to a man. The simple heated kiss had gone more than I had planned and within minutes I was past reason. I gave myself a mental kick and stood up to get my pills. Yes, obviously I had not learnt my lesson. How could I have gone the whole way without protection?

I made to get up but He held on tighter. Wriggling, I turned to face him. He looked peaceful and harmless. His thick brows and lashes fanned out his face and the quiet breath leaving his somehow pointed nose led me straight to his lips. I blushed at the sight of the firm lips and the memories of what he did with them. I had to get those pills. I waited few more minutes before trying again.
A peep at my bedside alarm clock told me it was minutes past 5 am and I tried sneaking out of bed but felt his hands pull me back for the umpteenth time.
‘Good Morning babe’ he said into my scalp.
‘Good Morning Leke’ I smiled. He was so possessive.
‘Can I go now?’ I gave a playful tickle pulling my covers off him. I threw it back. He was naked under the sheets and I blushed again.
‘Like what you see?’ he teased. I made to grab my discarded boxers and held my chest as I backed him to my bathroom.
Why was I shy? I looked at myself in the mirror and closed my eyes shut. I heard his voice approaching and I closed the door with speed.
He laughed and I joined. I opened the cabinet and saw the pills. A look at the expiry date told me it had expired. The last time I took it was with Dan. I emptied it in the toilet and flushed.

A quick mop up and teeth brushing I changed into a long shirt I had hung on the rails.
‘Why did you kiss him’ he asked as I made to open the door. I stopped.
‘You dreamt about Dan?’ I asked surprised at the strange question as I opened the door to face him. He was in his pants thankfully. My eyes strayed downwards and I forced them up to his face.
‘Let’s say I am still interested in knowing exactly what went wrong’ he smiled noticing my obvious discomfort.
‘He went wrong. I was blinded by ‘love’ but like I said we made peace. We are splitting the company’ I said. I stopped the moment I volunteered the information. I knew he was going to ask why.
‘Business not good?’ he asked.
‘No. He is my ex. What other reason should there be?’ I walked round the room aimlessly.
‘Was that why he sent those men last night?’ he asked taking seat on the bed.
‘I am not sure they were from him. Maybe they got the wrong house, realized their mistake and went away. You saw them leave right?’ I asked covering up. He saw through me.
‘Yes. Sure. Whatever you say’ he said standing up.

How do I tell him that barely a year ago, I had cajoled Harold into selling me his shares to make me the controlling shareholder of the company for price far lesser than their value? Harold was our third partner but was on to better companies. Now that I think about it, Harold was more than eager to let me have them. Dan wasn’t keen at the time because it was just days after his honeymoon. Or so I thought. Now I realize it didn’t matter who had controlling shares. He just needed the front.

Last night declaration must have thrown him off. He knew what he stood to lose. Or maybe I was just overly suspicious but I know just how far Dan could go.
‘So what are your plans for today?’ I asked feigning a smile.
‘For starters, head home. Got some issues to sort’ he raised his eyes to meet mine. I avoided them. It looked like he was trying to get information from me.
‘Okay. Let me get breakfast’ I headed down stairs without waiting for him. I was more afraid of what would happen to me if Dan pulled the plug if I insisted on walking away.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I told him that the office was Dan’s cover up for a terrorist group that needed a front man for their operations and I had only found out few months back when I went into his office to make a copy of some confidential files.

That was when I formed the plan of leaving the company. The painful excuse of my baby and my heart ache didn’t dissuade him from acting out immediately I mentioned it.

I had no choice.

I was going to initiate plan B.



I am no political analyst but clearly the silence or indifference of most Nigerians on critical issues is worrisome and I fear for the future.

The attitude of “na there problem or wetin I fit do” must be addressed.

Read Lagbaja’s reply to Okey Ndibe’s article and deny if you not a mumu.

Dear Okey Ndibe: Thank you for sounding the alarm in a way that should make us reflect deeper. Mumu is not a condition I proudly proclaim. It was with a heavy heart that I came to this shocking realisation that we are indeed a country of mumus. Harsh as it might sound, no other explanation would suffice. It is apparent that the “leaders” know that they would always get away with whatever incredible schemes they concoct because, amongst other reasons,

(a) the mumu people they “lead” are no different from their mumu “leaders” in character

(b) the mumu people are gullible, superstitious and naive

(c) there are no consequences for criminal acts if you belong to the right group

(d) these mumus never demand accountability from their “leaders”

(e) the mumus expect their rulers to loot or would otherwise consider them foolish

Apologies for the seeming overgeneralization but the vast majority runs with this mumu mindset.

There is a limit to how much one can squeeze into a song before sounding less music than sermon. Please permit me to expatiate using your perimeter of “recent events in the past week or two”.

For simplicity I would use a numbered list to analyse and highlight a few seemingly disparate but absurd mumurity examples and indicators.

1. 5 members trying to impeach a governor would make you think there are probably only 6 or 7 members of the House of Assembly. According to the assembly’s website there are 31 members. For mumus, 5 out 31 constitutes a majority.

2. In the land of mumus you can make your own mace and confer it with automatic authority, elect a “new Speaker” and swear him in.

3. No single hospital in Nigeria to entrust the unfortunately injured member with. He had to be flown to the UK.

4. Flown abroad … likely on tax payers’ account

5. Treated … likely on tax payers’ account

6. Visited by officials… likely on tax payers’ account (business or first class tickets?)

7. Nyesom Wike the Minister of State who led the visit was until recently the Governor’s (Amaechi’s) Chief of Staff. He was allegedly nominated for the Ministerial position by Governor Amaechi.

8. Shouldn’t the mumus wonder how Nyesom Wike as Minister of State for Education found the time for this all important trip while abandoning his post in spite of the raging crisis in his ministry with the Academic staff union of Nigerian universities currently on strike? Well the mumu staff and students can rot in hell I guess.

9. Madam Patience would probably have “visited” too, if not for the noise such would generate. So for now, the victim suffers alone.

10. The erstwhile pontificating police boss of the State could not find the patient’s prominent attacker for over a week.

11. Madam Patience having first denied any involvement in the crisis while verbally attacking Soyinka, eventually owns up “pouring out her grievances”.

12. She owns up to a group of visiting Bishops who came on a peace making mission to find a lasting solution to the crisis in their region. Religion is always an easy scapegoat and tool of deception in mumudom.

13. Why would you even think that the Bishops would go back empty handed? Any “transport fare/thank-you-for-coming”, if received, would have likely been financed on tax payers’ account.

14. And why are we ranting about “tax payers”? Why are the tax payers not furious over the incessant misappropriation and misapplication of their hard earned contributions? The answer lies in the question… Aside from PAYE, how many are compliant in mumudom?

15. First a set of 5 Governors and 3 Deputy Governors (representing their respective Governors), left their duty posts for a solidarity visit with the embattled Governor of Rivers State… of course to the detriment of tax payers. (a) They were not on leave, but left urgent work and duties behind for the “emergency” solidarity visit. (b) Flight to and fro Port Harcourt of course likely on tax payers’ account.

16. They were closely followed by a second set of 4 commiserating sympathetic Governors. Of course, again likely on tax payers’ account.

17. Madam Patience’s grievance, as she divulged to the visiting Bishops, started when Governor Amaechi refused to be governed by her, as he would not listen to her veiled orders on how to govern the State… which incidentally is her primary territory being her State of origin. Mumus have no problem with that, fully being in harmony with her as she sings as first lady in Abuja while simultaneously dancing in absentia as Permanent Secretary in Bayelsa and conducting the orchestra in home state, Rivers.

18. Madam ends her confession to the Bishops by saying that Amaechi is her son as she is obviously the mother of everyone in mumudom. The question all mumus should ask is, “Would a good mother promote the demise of her child?”

19. Where was her outraged sense of motherhood when Senators were busy voting to turn mumudom into a Nation of pedophiliacs at the expense of her innocent “daughters”?

20. Where was her outraged sense of “mother of the Nation” when the video of 5 gang rapists went viral. Has she used that “mother of the Nation” power to find the culprits? Not a priority in mumudom.

21. Where was her outraged “motherhood of mumudom” when 46 school children were murdered in Yobe? Indeed the whole Nation of mumus have just gone on with their more important mumu lives like nothing happened.

22. Which brings us to the insane mumurity that gives the “leaders” confidence to try pranks such as the attempt at crafting the under age marriage law, knowing that with the mumus… “nothing go happen”

23. In the land of mumus, the rulers know they can always throw in the religious card, so Senator Yerima leads the child slavery onslaught with the religious chant.

24. While all this was going on, 79 year old OPC founder, Dr. Fasheun was, in his own description, “delivering” Mustapha to Kano.

25. Soon after, Gumsu Sani Abacha had the courage to rant on social media about her proud heritage… because with the mumus who his father savagely ruled over… nothing go happen.

26. Gumsu even called Soyinka who was a victim of her beloved dad’s misrule, “Mad empty Professor” … because in mumudom, “nothing go happen”.

27. Final scores… Jang 13, Amaechi 19, but in the land of mumus Mathematics has a different interpretation for 13 is greater than 19. Even the President of the mumus ratifies that.

28. By the way, both Governors Jang and Amaechi are from the same imploding political party.

29. Jang says he is old enough to be Amaechi’s father… a common escape route that is often quickly bought by the mumu populace. Old enough to be the President’s pawn and to upturn justice might be more like it. Only possible when you know for sure that your people are mumus… Nothing go happen.

30. The Governor is supposed to be the chief security officer of his State, but apparently in mumudom, his Police Commissioner is his boss.

31. The Governor’s security staff could be so easily withdrawn because nothing is institutionalized in a Nation of mumus. The loyalty of the security personnel is not based on the constitution but on personal or maternal affiliations. The mumus keep watching because “it does not concern me o”… “Big men and women are fighting”. Same way the injustice of the Nation’s attorney general’s assassination does not concern them.

32. Most reports in the Nigerian media kept referring to the self appointed Speaker as if he were truly the substantive Speaker. A mere use of “self-acclaimed” would have been logical, but they were already calling him the Speaker because… ignorance? inducement? resignation to the belief that the 5 vs 26 Assembly coup was already a done deal?

33. While all this drama unfolded, Nigeria, like the proverbial head-burying ostrich felt it had the moral right to insist on democratic processes in Egypt.

34. Sahara Reporters had screamed about the underhand conspiracy to proclaim Mustapha “not guilty”. Mumus simply went about their daily mumurity unperturbed because “it doesn’t concern them”. And when it happened as predicted… no problem. Mumus continue dem jolly as if nothing happened.

35. Meanwhile, Daniel and his political supporters carried their politics into the house of God at Rueben Abati’s mother’s funeral service… simply because there is no true reverence for God. Religion is a safe hiding cave. The mumus in the congregation would never protest such sacrilege because… “it is not strange” as the houses of God are now also political grounds. Obasanjo built one in Abeokuta. Jonathan got one built in Otuoke.

36. Meanwhile, some other mumus were again busy putting the Nation to international shame. In unprecedented match fixing fiascos, Police Machine beat Bubayaro 67-0 while Plateau United Feeders beat Akurba FC 79-0. Just in case you are confused, the game was soccer, not basketball.

37. The matches were to determine which one of the two tied teams would be promoted into… wait for this… just the 3rd division of the Nigerian soccer league. How many goals would they have to orchestrate when they want promotion to the 1st division?

38. Interesting to note that one of the teams involved in these shows of shame, the Police Machine, represents the Police Force. Now who would investigate this scandal?

39. Mumus involved in the conspiracy had to include players… team management… referees and other match officials… spectatorshuh That is quite a large mumu cooperative.

40. Since four teams were involved, multiply the number of conspirators by 4 (except match officials and spectators which should be multiplied by “only” 2). Hence, the scam was done in the open. It was a confident public show of shame. No… two confident simultaneous scams. No problem as corruption is everywhere.

41. Before the matches, Police Machine and Plateau United were level on points, goal difference and goals scored, and each was playing its final match which would determine which team would get elevated into the 3rd division league. Plateau United scored 72 of its 79 goals in the second half, thereby averaging more than one goal per minute. This would necessarily include the time needed to celebrate each goal, retrieve the ball, bring it back to the center, wait for the referee’s whistle before kicking off again…. after each goal. 72 times. Or did they just write the preferred figures as we typically do on election day?

42. Is it not curious that neither of the two losing teams could manage a single consolation goal? What else are we if not mumus?

43. Then there was the innocent man who was freed by the high court in Owerri after having been unjustly incarcerated for seven years, “awaiting trial”. No compensation… nobody held accountable for his ordeal. He insisted on being taken back to the prison as that was his only guaranty of a roof over his head and a daily meal. It was merely a “small thing” in the daily bizarre news as mumus went about their daily mumurity with their typical mentality of “e no concern me”.

44. Remember that this is mostly a snippet of the past two weeks or so. But there is more… 20 year old Chijioke Nwankor allegedly Molests a 9 year old pupil to death in Calabar. Reportedly in his own words, he asked her to bend down in the uncompleted building because it was too dirty to lie down as the place was being used as a public toilet. That is mumudom parlance for faeces shamelessly defecated all over the ground. Could the defecation be by aliens from outer space?

45. Well… thankfully, there is always a little ray of sunlight sneaking through the dark jungle. A Briton who was kidnapped by an armed gang shortly after arrival in Lagos, has been released.

…All in just the past two weeks or so in mumudom.

Excuse me, I have to return to work. I need to earn £3000 for my British visa. Wait a minute, did I tell you I am still a Commonwealth citizen?


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