@osemagnum I've been wondering as well.
I attended UNIBEN and my campus fellowship is the same one your parents attend. They are so homely and wonderful.
Another day to brag about my Dad even if you didn't ask me to.
He has a solid testimony with the fruit of the spirit so evident.
Remember what Samuel did in the Bible, when he asked for witnesses against him and nobody could. My Papa fit do am and no hands will be in the air!
The only people that can tell us the truth about Pastors are their grown children
If you get Pastor pikin as close friend and una dey gist well, you go know say no God anywhere call their papa.
The exceptions are academia or professions that requires a straight line progression.
Still thinks that such professions isn't much of an exception because you can always diverge.
We keep learning and discovering more about ourselves. The competition should be for a better you.
Unpopular opinion: Except you have plans to go into academics, I actually think that you don't need your postgraduate degree to be in the same discipline with your first degree.
Education is for a purpose, not to fulfill traditions.
For some people, the university 'gave' you what studied, why trudging in the line of what wasn't your vision in the first place?
The point is, your postgraduate degree should align with your next vision, not your last certificate.
And as I walked away, something warm stretched in my chest—not the giddy kind of butterflies, but the calm assurance that something had shifted.
Not rushed. Not forced.
Just ready.
This was the peace I longed for alongside love and it came with Ezinna.
Something in me had been stirring since the café. I was still cautious, still private, but open.
I slipped into the hall just as the second panel was starting, careful not to draw attention, found a seat near the back and let the hum of conversation carry me.
I heard his voice.
Adaora waved him over.
As he approached, I noticed his gait, graceful. A man not trying to prove anything, just being.
"Ezinna, meet the woman who gave me juice and a juicy advice,"
He smiled, and extended his hand. “Thank you for showing up for my sister when I couldn’t.”
reacted.”
“Well, he's here.”
Before I could process that, I turned and saw him—standing near the bookshelf, reading the blurb of a novel. He looked up just then, as if he’d felt us watching. And our eyes met.
Ezinna.
His eyes held stories, not secrets.
...with more books than customers and an old standing fan that hummed louder than the music playing in the background.
I wasn’t there for a book that day. I just needed stillness. As I stared out into the dimming evening, my eyes caught a young woman in the far corner.
It was one of those slow evenings in Asaba, when the sky looked like it was trying on every shade of orange before settling into night. I had wandered into Chapters & Coffee, a small book café just off Okpanam Road, not too far from my apartment. The place was always half-empty..