Dear Aunty Ngor…

7

Dear Aunty Ngor,

I have a problem…

Many years ago, I dated this guy. I wouldn’t exactly call it dating because he was much older and more experienced so he kinda just “took” me as his own… I was young and stupid then and although he wasn’t my first, I really didn’t know any better. I’m not tooting my own horn, but I was a babe at the time. I had guys fighting over me. I had have beauty and brains and I could do crazy things with my waist. My nickname then was Flexibility. However, deep down, I knew that none of those men really cared about me… they just wanted to possess me.

And that’s exactly what they did. Guy after guy, it was the same thing. Some were worse than others. Some relationships started off well enough, but in the end, they were all the same.

Anyway, this particular guy I dated, he had a really mean streak… the guy had zero chill. Maybe it was the age difference, I don’t know, but the man put the fear of God in me. One wise crack or one tiny joke about his sexual prowess and ol’ boy would tear me slap. I could never really be myself around him. I realized that the guy meant business when some of my family and close friends started getting missing, or turning up dead in ditches with their tongues cut off.

Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last very long. After him I went through a few more guys till someone set me up on a blind date with this other dude. I think I got caught up in this new guy’s popularity. He made me sooo many promises and for a brief period, he actually seemed like he was different from the rest. He never fought with me. In fact, to be honest, I thought he was a push-over. I was fond of him, but that was all. I didn’t love him… I had given up on love a long time ago. I just needed someone who would treat me the way I deserved to be treated.

I was so wrong! It didn’t take long before the abuse started. He raped me and beat me repeatedly. He was a monster in grey agbada… the exact opposite of what he promised. Sometimes, he would invite his friends over and they would gang-rape me. The worst was when he hid food from me and the kids. He would eat large meals and have the cook put the left overs in take-away packs. I and the kids barely survived on the crumbs that fell off the table.

And there were other women with illegitimate kids scattered around the country. The humiliation was unbearable. On the worst day of my life, in the middle of the night, my kids were kidnapped… snatched from their beds and taken away from me to God knows where. Till now, I haven’t heard a word on their whereabouts. I still blame myself; maybe if I had done something differently that night… if only I had locked the doors and windows… if only I hadn’t mixed those bloody sleeping pills with alcohol, I would’ve heard the intruders when they came… I have carried this guilt in my heart for almost a year now.

My husband said nothing. It was as if he didn’t care. The neighbours tried to talk to him, but he told them everything was fine. He vowed that he would get the kids back safe and sound, but behind closed doors, away from the glare of the public, he would warn me to stop weeping… he said my cries irritated him.

Ngozi, I’m ready to leave him. I don’t think I will ever stop mourning my kids, and I have made up my mind to go. I have had enough…

Our rent expires soon and I think my husband can see it in my eyes that I am fed up, he sees my resolve and he knows he has finally lost me. He has started again with his promises. He swears that he’s going to change… he’s going to take better care of me, he’s going to protect me and (is it possible?) he’s going to get our kids back. I dare not believe him, but what if it’s true? What if he can bring my girls back? What if it was just bad friends that made him the monster that he became?

My problem is that my ex wants me back. I’ve hooked up with him a few times recently and he seems different, more relaxed and less evil… he smiles more and he listens to me when I talk. He never used to listen. He wasn’t the perfect man then, but isn’t anything better than the torment I’m going through right now? I’m so confused… I don’t wanna go back to my old vomit, but I would rather die than stay with my husband.

Ngozi, please help. What should I do?

Mrs Ija, N. A.

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Dear N.A.Ija,

I’m truly sorry for all that you’ve been through. Ordinarily, I would’ve called you a ho’ for dating so many men, but it’s not in my place to judge you.

There’s an old saying; The best way to get over an ex is to get under someone new. Since you can’t keep your legs closed, if you must be with a man, I would suggest that you go back to the dating scene. Go out and meet someone new!

Who says you have to choose between the both of them? You seem to attract the same kind of man. Don’t limit yourself to that. You deserve so much more than what you have been getting. You have about six weeks till your rent expires… go out and meet younger men and women if you swing that way 😉

Good luck!

Between papa, warm custard and indomie noodles…

12

Good morning beautiful people!!

I started this post on Monday, in the middle of a very intense argument in my office… it was the Buharists against the Jonahs again. Thankfully, I had my earphones plugged in. The last time there was an argument, I didn’t have any means of escape and I just sat at my desk, contemplating stabbing my throat with the blunt end of my eye pencil.  I couldn’t work because their voices were so loud and in a matter of seconds, other people joined in the shouting. It was raining spit in the office and the APC person and PDP person didn’t speak to each other for the rest of that day.

The arguments are becoming more frequent, more heated… it’s everywhere you go. And it’s funny because I don’t remember this much noise the last time we had presidential elections. Most likely, it’s because I was serving in Rivers state at the time and there was no doubt who the entire state was going to vote for. NYSC had made it compulsory for corpers to serve as INEC officials but I didn’t go. I didn’t attend the INEC training in camp and I certainly didn’t go to the hell-hole I was posted to for elections. It was one of those villages that you had to get to by boat… like a 20 minutes boat ride.

LOOOOOL @INEC…

No doubt, I would’ve gotten impatient with those villagers who couldn’t follow simple instructions and I would’ve probably played the role of “patriotic, upright and incorruptible corper, who stands for free and fair elections”. Election thugs dem for beat shege plus patriotism commot for my body. That’s why I didn’t bother from day one.

Some guy friends I made in camp had different experiences though; one got beaten up badly in a small town just outside PH for not sharing the ballots equally among PDP and APC. He spent a night in the hospital. Two other guys who got posted to the same place (the centre of PH) got 200k each for their full cooperation with one party. They guys bought new phones, new laptops and had a small bash after elections. That was the first time I had Smirnoff Vodka ( ._.)

Anyway, I am not going to vote. I registered at home, near my house in Warri, so there’s no way in hell I’m going all the way to Delta state just to get my PVC. The truth is, even if there was a PVC collection centre in my kitchen right here in Lagos, I still wouldn’t vote.

My reason is that there’s no one to vote for. We are stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

In a country with a population of plenty plenty million billion people, sadly we’ve narrowed down our options to two very depressing choices. One is the definition of incompetence who I suspect has nothing but warm custard in his head. Na Nigeria ‘im wan use take learn the work. The thought of the other candidate sickens me. It baffles me how we have fallen so low to the point where we are recycling candidates and leaders. Who in the hell runs for president with one foot in the grave?? I can’t even bring myself to listen to the trash he claims to offer cos I’m wondering; why didn’t he offer it before WHEN HE WAS IN POWER???

As I write this, I’m thinking that it might too late now, but we probably should’ve looked at other candidates from other parties… I know of one woman who’s running for president. She was on Twitter answering questions a couple of weeks ago, but I don’t even remember her name. I have no idea who the other contestants are. At this rate, if a packet of noodles decides to contest, I will most likely vote that chicken-flavour noodles than vote bros Jonah or papa Buhari.

Have a lovely day people.

Weather forecast… bad day ahead.

13

Good morning beautiful people!

I’m at work, battling sleep… it’s going to be a rough day and mentally, I’m not ready. I’ve got interviews from 10:00am to 4:00pm with a thirty minutes break in between. Every day, I pray to God to grant me the patience to deal with my candidates. I pray that He helps me love them like they were my brothers or sisters… but it never works. Bad enough that I already have anger issues.

Add to that the girl with half her titties hanging out of her blouse who strolls in one hour late for her job interview. There’s no point asking why she’s late cos she’s going to say there was traffic, even if her house is behind my office. Either that, or there’s a sick relative in the hospital… or her pussy cat died. You hear all sorts. You remember your days of unemployment when fear never EVER allowed you arrive at an interview late, no matter what. Still, you try to be considerate so you tell her to leave and come back the next day.

But bouncy titties girl doesn’t like that… so the three of them (the girl, her left boob and right boob) all bounce towards my male colleague who is kind enough to see them. Of course he would. In the end, you’re the wicked evil witch who can’t even help her fellow girl…

What about the self-appointed comedian? He’s the one who always has to let his voice be heard… he’s got jokes and he’s always dropping stupid side comments. He knows everything too. He knows how “all these companies used to do” and he knows the best way to answer every possible question. When it gets to his turn, everyone wishes him luck… the ladies are sad to see him go because there’s no one left to entertain them.

He enters a cubicle, the interview begins and he gets stuck in the middle of his first sentence. All his jokes were in pidgin… the wise ass comments were in pidgin… and now you wanna know about his educational background in English. It’s a struggle and he starts to sweat. Also, on his CV it is written that he has exceptional analytic skills. You ask him about it and he says he analyzes football…

Are you on radio? No…

Super Sports? No…

Where then dost thou analyze football exceptionally? Ees in a place around my area.

He will leave and attend another interview somewhere else where he will tell his new audience about how “all diz companies yoos toh’ yoos conekshun to give job”.

Or the obese woman whose husband has asked her to get up off her ass and go find work. When asked why she wants a job, she tells you, “I dunnno… ees my husband that teh’ me.” You wanna ask how in the hell she got an invitation to come for an interview, but then you remember that she’s one of those referred candidates… it’s a favour for a colleague. His friend’s cousin’s pastor’s wife needs a job so he asked you to see her for any available role.

She’s in her mid-thirties with an OND in Eating (Lower credit). You wonder what kind of a man her husband is. At what point did he get fed up of her Telemundo watching? Was it after she ate their kids or after she mistakenly chewed the remote control?

Everybody must get a fair chance, so you go ahead with the interview.

I have to go… it’s going down now.

God help me to love them like my own.

Have a great day people…

Have you guys seen the new smart freezer?

8

Hello people!! 🙁

On Monday, at the close of work, I was trying to lock my cubicle door. I had a lot of stuff in my hands and somehow, my phone slipped, fell to the floor and shattered. Before then, I had been telling my colleague about how great 2015 is going to be, and all the wonderful things God has in store for me. And it wasn’t just him… I’ve been telling everyone who cares to listen that 2015 is going to be fantastic. I realize now that I’ve probably been sounding like a crazed woman, who is trying to convince herself more than anyone else that all these fantastic things are really going to happen this year.

I picked up the pieces of my phone, and left the shards of glass outside my door to test our cleaner who claims that he sweeps the floors every day. I showed some of my team members the phone and everyone “chei yah-ed” and “kpele-ed” because just last month, I had coughed out almost 12k to repair it. Satisfied with their response, I threw the parts of the phone in my bag and left. I didn’t cry until I got home. And the cry pass broken phone cry… I think I cried for everything under the sun and that’s how I eventually slept off.

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Before I continue, let me state two facts here;

– One of the good things about my habit of trolling the internet, attending church and reading books is that I can boast of knowing a lot of the basics. I’m talking about general gist on finding happiness, self-love, the path to self-discovery, locating men’s secret pleasure zones that were previously unknown to women, yaddah yaddah yaddah… I may not practice them, but I get the general gist.

– I also believe in money/wealth. I’ve lived a miserable life swimming in wealth, and a miserable life as a broke ass and I can tell you that the only thing worse than being unhappy is being unhappy and broke.

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Anyway, you guys know I’m quite open about my struggles and because of that, I tend to fall into the trap of having to justify them. When you open up to people, it puts them in a position to analyze and/or judge you. It’s easy for them to recite what they read in every psychology journal or online article. Before you know it, you are mentally preparing a PowerPoint presentation stating all the reasons why you have a right to be upset/unhappy. For some strange reason, this is more common with guy friends…

For instance, last year, I wanted to get a deep freezer. When I first moved to Lagos, I moved into an empty house. There were three beds, three standing fans, one plastic bucket and a small ancient fridge. Yeah it’s my dad’s house, but because no one stayed there, it was “un-livable”. My move to Lagos was without my parent’s blessing so I was more or less on my own.

I started work, but because I was stationed outside the office, I didn’t get free lunch and I had to feed myself. The power situation was disgusting and the fridge was the perfect environment for food to rot so I was cooking tiny portions of food almost every day. The other alternative was to eat out and I don’t do that well. I desperately needed a freezer, but I knew I couldn’t afford a brand new freezer… the average cost of the freezers I saw online was 5k more than my monthly salary.

I mentioned it at work one day and a kind senior colleague suggested that we get the freezer using her company’s arrangement with the shop. She would collect it in her name and I would pay in installments. Due to the flexible payment structure, I went gaga and picked a high-tech, ultra-modern smart freezer with Bluetooth, wireless internet and an app that allows the fridge mix its own cocktails.

I’m kidding. I picked a really nice one… let’s call it my dream freezer.

We did all the paper work and left. The next day, I was supposed to pick it up, but when I got to the shop, they had sold that dream freezer!!! The only other one was the freezer on display, but it had a dent and I refused to take it. I was sooooo pissed. The shop said it was a mistake, and the manager kept apologizing for it. Even worse, the dream freezer wasn’t going to be available for another couple of weeks and if I was going to pick another one, it would’ve involved doing all that paper work again, getting more signatures, and kissing more asses.

Another thing was the money… it would’ve taken just one NEPA bill, or generator maintenance, or spark plug change for me to dip into the down payment for the freezer and I would no longer have the money. Overwhelmed with all these thoughts, I was genuinely heartbroken and I cried all the way home. A friend was with me that day and he just couldn’t get it. He thought I had gone nuts… completely crazy. I remember I had tried to explain why I was so hurt about the freezer and all the reasons why my life would be better if I had one.

Later, when I had calmed down, he told me about the importance of not depending on material things to make me happy, then he went home (to his parent’s house where he lives) and had some ice-cream that he stored in their deep freezer. The following week, he forwarded an online article about the dangers of placing one’s happiness in things that can be lost. He sent that mail from South Africa, where he went for a two weeks holiday because “he was stressed”.

It was towards the end of last year that I had a Eureka moment. I sat back and asked myself, “Ngor baby, why are you explaining why you need a Tv to a flat screen owner?”

Why are you explaining the reasons you need a new gen to someone who stays in an area with good power and an inverter?

Why are you explaining the reasons you need a dildo to someone’s live-in girlfriend?

And this is how it works; in the process of explaining your struggles, because you are trying to convince them, you have to make it sound very grim. You confess it over and over again till it becomes a part of you. Before you know it, it becomes like ammo that you carry around, easily accessible so that you can whip it out fast even before someone has finished asking you, “What’s wrong?”

So, this year, I’m embracing my struggles. My only prayer is that I don’t let them overwhelm me… but I will no longer be explaining them. I will embrace them. These struggles have given me something to look forward to because Lord knows I don’t want to be happy or content with the way I am.

Maybe when I’m filthy rich I can talk to the youth of the society and tell them about having life values and how money can’t buy happiness. In the meantime, I’m storing ice-cream in my freezer.

Happy New Year good people…

To hell with 2014!!

10

Hello beautiful people!!…

I got home hours ago cos today was half day at work, so I’m working on my church assignment. Last week, my pastor asked us all to write our meal tickets for 2015. The meal ticket is supposed to be a list of all the things we would like God to do for us in the New Year. We’re also to include all the things that we plan to do for God.

I’ve told you guys before that I’m the kind of person who never knows what to say when someone asks me what I want. Last year, I didn’t write my list until I got to church for cross over service. I had to quickly tear out a sheet of paper from my tiny jotter and I wrote four things that I wanted God to do for me. And just to show you how unserious I was, I wrote down four very general things on my list.

Other people brought lists as long as my arm, in sheets of paper they had rolled up like ponmo. Some others wrote their meal tickets in notebooks with detailed requests like;

I want a dark-complexioned, 6ft tall man with beer beer, who works as a Safety Engineer in the HSE Dept. of Total, Lekki, Lagos.

So by the time we were blessing and anointing our lists, I was feeling very stupid holding up that tiny sheet of paper while other people were holding up A3 sheets of paper. Looking at my sheet now, I can see those transparent patches where the anointing oil touched the paper. It looks like something they sold buns or akara in. I’m thinking of just recycling this list and taking it to church tonight because I didn’t cross out a damn thing.

Does it mean that God didn’t do anything for me in 2014?? I can’t say that! Maybe it’s my fault for not being too expectant going into 2014.

I’m grateful for my siblings. I can’t say this enough. I thank God for the three of them. I’m also grateful to God for my health. I am literally the healthiest person I know… I brag about that all the time. Apart from one stomach infection last month and back pain in recent weeks, I’ve been doing great! That’s not something that a lot of people can say.

I am not going to talk about work or money. 2014 was rough career wise and money wise and I can only pray it gets better.

Romantically, 2014 was hard… I didn’t meet anyone new, but I learned a painful, but valuable lesson. It was a hard lesson but now I’m looking forward to meeting a new guy and being in a solid, meaningful relationship. I learnt that it’s ok to want something and go after what you want. Even better, it’s ok to make your demands known cos these modern day guys are smart… they know that they can get away with not being committed. So, as a girl, it’s easy to find yourself in an invisible relationship where you are doing girlfriendish things with a guy who may or may not be doing boyfriendish things with you. The arrangement is nice, but there is no commitment so that he is not tied down.

You want more, but you don’t want to scare him away with the “What are we?” question, so you stay quiet till you reach frustration point. Well, 2014 taught me that I can turn my back and walk away from that kind of messy situation. The next guy I meet, I’m gonna ask straight up, “Niggah what the fuck do you want from me?!”

If he can’t answer, I’m pointing to the door or the window… whichever he chooses to fuck out of my life from. It gets lonely sometimes, but that’s fine.

Also, I’m proud to announce that I’ve been celibate since the middle of February!!! YAAAY!!!

*waits for wild applause* *waves to crowd*

Yes, people… I’ve been a good girl since then 😀

I’ll admit that there have been periods when congy from the pit of hell gripped my soul and I started to see stars, but those times eventually passed and I got over it. Thank God for my job. Sometimes, I find it’s easier to just throw myself into my work and that helps. My poor MD will be applauding my results, talking about hard work and dedication. The poor guy doesn’t know that it’s congy power…

It’s really no big deal though. The longest I’ve done is two years and two months so you see this? Eees nuffin’!

Still on the romance page, I’ve decided that I won’t be friends with any of my exes anymore. I’m sorry, but y’all take up way too much time and energy. I get it; you wanna be able to tell people that you’re cool with all your exes, they are all your paddys, and that y’all are close, blah blah blah… good for you, but that’s not why we are here. There are no hard feelings… or maybe there are. I don’t know. But surely you understand that I don’t give a rat’s ass about your new girlfriend’s mother’s illness. Biko miss me with that BS. Besides, I’m starting to feel like my singlehood gives you some sort of pleasure. Why else do you ask for updates every damned time???

In 2014, I got closer to God *winks at God* *blows God a kiss*

I said I was gonna commit to a particular department in church and that’s exactly what I did. I started participating in church activities and I’m still getting to know people. So far, my biggest church lesson has been that God does not randomly strike people down with lightening. He’s not angry like that… if on a Sunday, you don’t have an offering, God will not strike you dead.

Oh, and you guys have noooo idea about what goes on behind the scenes… or maybe you do. After these few months I’ve spent behind the scenes, I now see every church service like a stage play/drama. You buy a ticket and go see a play… the play moves you- you laugh, you cry, you ponder over it- but you can’t imagine the amount of fighting, arguing, cursing, back-biting and near-physical blows that go into putting the show together. In the end, you have a cast (church workers) who worked hard to put the show together, but then end up hating each other’s guts.

Me, I’m trying to relish this stage I’m in where I still get along with everyone… I still love everybody and everybody loves me. I am afraid of getting to that hate stage, but my friends keep warning me that church people are humans and they are far from perfect so there’s bound to be conflict.

One of the hardest parts is un-looking when you see two people together who are famously shagging. You can’t point at them and say, “Hey! I know what you two use your anointing oil for!” because it’s not in your place to judge. Instead you act like you don’t know.

I think that’s it for me… 2014 is a year I’m desperate to get rid of. I can’t even think of a high-point, but my mind is filled with too many lows. However, I’m looking forward to 2015. I’m going to write everything I want on my meal ticket and I’ll try not to limit God with my mind. I was going to share some of my plans for 2015 with you guys, but this post is already an epistle. I hope you guys can stay awake long enough to get to the end…

Finally, I want to thank you guys for visiting regularly. I used to be so obsessed with my statistics page cos I didn’t know if people even read the shit I put out here. I had to stop obsessing over it and just write… I’ve gotten some mails and messages from readers that encouraged me. So I need to mention that I am grateful to you guys who read, even when I don’t have anything to say. Thank you!!

I have to go now. I need to work on this meal ticket… don’t forget to wish HRC a happy blog birthday.

Happy New Year guys!! To hell with 2014.