“Your son is in the hospital and you’re here” — The moment a husband tried to chase his wife out of an August meeting after finding out she wasn't at the hospital with their sick child
Heck! Nigerians recognise value when we see it. We subscribed to the Blackberry plans back then! Why should I pay for a shitty software when there's a freemium with a better package?
@SirJarus A trusted worker in a small business was caught by local vigilantes in the dead of the night with gallons of oil. After obtaining his confession they were going to escalate but chose to defer to the owner in the morning. Owner pleaded they dropped the case.
Your dad is aware.
When I was 9, my mom ran our house like a Soviet ice-cream rationing program; one measly ice-cream per week, per child. As the eldest of four, I took this as a personal insult to my developing capitalist soul.
So I did what any reasonable entrepreneur would do; I cut a deal with the ice-cream man. His currency? My mom’s Benson & Hedges. One cigarette = one glorious, brain-freezing ice-cream. At her one-pack-a-day habit, that worked out to four ice-creams daily. I was living the dream, basically a pint-sized Pablo Escobar with sprinkles.
Of course, my Mom eventually noticed her cigarettes were evaporating faster than my ppcket-money. Suddenly she was carrying them like they were the nuclear codes (tucked in her bra, basically Fort Knox with nicotine).
Plan B had to be made; the ice-cream man, bless his shady heart, opened me a line of credit. “Pay me at the end of the month.” I was nine with an ice-cream tab. I felt like a queen made of sugar.
End of the month rolls around. Doorbell rings. I peek out the window and there he is; Mr. Ola turned leg-breaker, holding a little notebook that apparently contained my entire criminal empire.
I have never run faster in my life. Skinny little chicken legs? More like Olympic-grade getaway sticks. I vaulted fences, dodged rose bushes, and probably set a land-speed record for a 9-year-old powered exclusively by shame and lactose.
My Mom answered the door, had a calm adult conversation, paid the man, and that was the day the ice-cream man was officially banned from our house forever.
After that, whenever I hear that creepy bicycle bell approaching, my fight-or-flight kicks in and I’m halfway down the block before I remember I’m 55 and have health insurance. Childhood trauma now in mint chip flavor.
@myabiadaily What is wrong with you?! Read the f**king room. What's the distance between Benue and Abia as the crow flies? Some of those terrorists have been spotted in Cross River!
I genuinely don’t know where all of this will eventually lead us as a nation. If the rising tensions and the constant reckless narrative are simply because of the combination of the individuals currently occupying the Presidency, then why can’t we just wait and channel our dissatisfaction through the ballot boxes in 2027?
We all clearly remember the events of the 2023 elections. Neither President Tinubu, his Deputy nor the APC built their campaign around religion. They did not tour mosques preaching religious fear. They did not weaponise faith for political gain. Instead, they focused on experiences and regional balance. But Peter Obi, the very candidate many of propagandists supported, went from church to church framing the election as a religious war and busy calling daddies to help him take the message to their congregations.
I genuinely thought that the Tinubu/Shettima ticket would be seen first and foremost as a Yoruba/Kanuri ticket, two ethnic groups coming together to represent national diversity, as people have been preaching that religion should never come before tribe. But now, because that narrative doesn’t fit the current agenda, suddenly everything is reduced to Muslim/Muslim, as their ethnic identities no longer matter.
If we genuinely care about this country, our politics must be guided by truth, not reckless narratives crafted to inflame sentiment. Nigeria deserves better.