Nigerian Survivor 💙

Female. Human. Social Adventurer

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

Lawyer with the sauce. No wonder you're full of values. Congratulations Sir.

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

I'm excited to share my latest book with you.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

What a reminder of the fragility of life

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

I was at the hospital for a check up when a lady came and sat near me. She was vibrant, beautiful, and full of life. Looking at her, I assumed she had simply accompanied someone to the hospital.

She was constantly on the phone taking one call after another, giving instructions, handling what sounded like work matters, and at one point engaging in a heated conversation with someone I suspected was her husband. Whatever was happening on the other end was clearly getting on her nerves.

Yet despite everything, she remained calm and composed.

A few minutes later, she looked at me and said,......"I'm hungry."

We both laughed a little. She then ordered food through Yango and settled back in her chair.

As we continued talking, she suddenly said something that struck me.

"I'm no longer feeling like I'm part of this world..."

She said it with such exhaustion, like a weary statement from someone who seemed tired beyond words.

So I took the opportunity to encourage her. We spoke briefly about life, hope, and God's faithfulness.

Then I asked her,

"Would you mind if we prayed together?"

She smiled and nodded.

I held her hand and prayed a short prayer over her. Just a simple prayer asking God to strengthen her, comfort her, and carry her through whatever she was facing.

Moments later, her name was called and she walked into the doctor's office.

Then everything changed.

Suddenly, I heard a scream.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Nurses rushed in and out of the room. There was commotion everywhere. An oxygen machine was wheeled in at speed. Staff members were moving urgently, and you could feel that something was terribly wrong.

A short while later, one of the nurses approached me.

"Are you related to the lady?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "Why?"

The nurse looked at me and quietly said,

"She has passed away."

I froze.

I couldn't process what I had just heard.

This was the same woman I had been talking to only minutes earlier. The same woman who had just ordered food because she was hungry. The same woman who had smiled during prayer. The same woman who had walked into that office on her own two feet.

I stood up and went into the doctor's office.

There she was.

Lying motionless on the small hospital bed.

Cold.

Gone.

Just like that.

I stood there in complete shock.

Then her phone started ringing.

One of the nurses answered.

It was the Food company's rider calling to say he had arrived with the food she had ordered.

A few moments later, the phone rang again.

This time it was her husband.

He answered loudly, clearly expecting to speak to his wife. The nurse calmly asked him to settle down and come to the hospital immediately because his wife was unable to answer the phone.

She didn't tell him over the phone that his wife had died.

As everything unfolded, I found myself staying behind. The doctors attended to me later, but I remained there waiting for a relative to arrive.

In a strange way, I had become the closest person to her in those final moments.

I was the last person she had spoken to.

And that reality still shakes me.

What has touched me the most is that she looked fine. She was talking. She was making plans to eat. She was arguing with her husband. She was laughing. She was alive.

Yet death was already standing at the door.

Maybe that is why she said she no longer felt like she belonged to this world.

I don't know what disagreements existed between her and her husband. I don't know what words were exchanged between them. But what pains me is knowing that even in her final moments, there was conflict.

Life is so fragile.

You never know when you're having your last conversation with someone.

You never know when you're sharing your last laugh.

You never know when you're seeing someone for the final time.

We are all just one breath away from eternity. Life is not promised.

Forgive quickly.

Be kind. Check on your loved ones.

I just decided to share this from Theresa Mubonda.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley This is a good reminder of the fragility of lif. Thank you for sharing

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

I was at the hospital for a check up when a lady came and sat near me. She was vibrant, beautiful, and full of life. Looking at her, I assumed she had simply accompanied someone to the hospital.

She was constantly on the phone taking one call after another, giving instructions, handling what sounded like work matters, and at one point engaging in a heated conversation with someone I suspected was her husband. Whatever was happening on the other end was clearly getting on her nerves.

Yet despite everything, she remained calm and composed.

A few minutes later, she looked at me and said,......"I'm hungry."

We both laughed a little. She then ordered food through Yango and settled back in her chair.

As we continued talking, she suddenly said something that struck me.

"I'm no longer feeling like I'm part of this world..."

She said it with such exhaustion, like a weary statement from someone who seemed tired beyond words.

So I took the opportunity to encourage her. We spoke briefly about life, hope, and God's faithfulness.

Then I asked her,

"Would you mind if we prayed together?"

She smiled and nodded.

I held her hand and prayed a short prayer over her. Just a simple prayer asking God to strengthen her, comfort her, and carry her through whatever she was facing.

Moments later, her name was called and she walked into the doctor's office.

Then everything changed.

Suddenly, I heard a scream.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Nurses rushed in and out of the room. There was commotion everywhere. An oxygen machine was wheeled in at speed. Staff members were moving urgently, and you could feel that something was terribly wrong.

A short while later, one of the nurses approached me.

"Are you related to the lady?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "Why?"

The nurse looked at me and quietly said,

"She has passed away."

I froze.

I couldn't process what I had just heard.

This was the same woman I had been talking to only minutes earlier. The same woman who had just ordered food because she was hungry. The same woman who had smiled during prayer. The same woman who had walked into that office on her own two feet.

I stood up and went into the doctor's office.

There she was.

Lying motionless on the small hospital bed.

Cold.

Gone.

Just like that.

I stood there in complete shock.

Then her phone started ringing.

One of the nurses answered.

It was the Food company's rider calling to say he had arrived with the food she had ordered.

A few moments later, the phone rang again.

This time it was her husband.

He answered loudly, clearly expecting to speak to his wife. The nurse calmly asked him to settle down and come to the hospital immediately because his wife was unable to answer the phone.

She didn't tell him over the phone that his wife had died.

As everything unfolded, I found myself staying behind. The doctors attended to me later, but I remained there waiting for a relative to arrive.

In a strange way, I had become the closest person to her in those final moments.

I was the last person she had spoken to.

And that reality still shakes me.

What has touched me the most is that she looked fine. She was talking. She was making plans to eat. She was arguing with her husband. She was laughing. She was alive.

Yet death was already standing at the door.

Maybe that is why she said she no longer felt like she belonged to this world.

I don't know what disagreements existed between her and her husband. I don't know what words were exchanged between them. But what pains me is knowing that even in her final moments, there was conflict.

Life is so fragile.

You never know when you're having your last conversation with someone.

You never know when you're sharing your last laugh.

You never know when you're seeing someone for the final time.

We are all just one breath away from eternity. Life is not promised.

Forgive quickly.

Be kind. Check on your loved ones.

I just decided to share this from Theresa Mubonda.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

Wow. First time I'm learning about him

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

His name is Chukwuemeka Ezeugo from Uga, Anambra State. He founded the Christian Praying Assembly, a Pentecostal church headquartered in Ikeja, Lagos. To his thousands of followers he was known as Reverend King, or simply His Holiness. He preached, he led, he commanded total obedience.

On July 22 2006, Reverend King accused six members of his own congregation of fornication and adultery. He gathered them together at his residence. According to witnesses, he had them beaten with hard objects. Then he made them kneel down. Then he ordered petrol poured over their bodies.

Then he set them on fire.

One of the victims, a young woman named Ann Uzoh, suffered third degree burns over much of her body. She was rushed to hospital, where doctors fought to save her life for eleven days. She did not survive. The other five victims, also doused and set ablaze, suffered severe injuries but lived.

He was arraigned in September 2006 on six counts of attempted murder and murder. He pleaded not guilty to every single charge.

At trial, ten witnesses came forward to testify against him. His defence tried to discredit them by pointing to small inconsistencies in their statements, but it was not enough. On January 11 2007, Justice Joseph Oyewole of the Lagos State High Court found him guilty and sentenced him to death by hanging.

He appealed. In 2013 the Court of Appeal upheld the conviction. He appealed again, all the way to Nigeria's Supreme Court. On February 26 2016 the apex court dismissed his final appeal and affirmed the death sentence. The presiding judge, the late Justice Sylvester Ngwuta, described the facts of the case as something that could have been lifted from a horror film.

And even on death row, the disturbing reports did not stop.

While awaiting his appeal, Reverend King was accused of having sexual relations with female visitors and prisoners, allegations serious enough that prison authorities transferred him between facilities multiple times, from Kirikiri to Kuje in Abuja, then to Kaduna, then to Katsina, partly because of the volume of followers, including notable politicians, who kept visiting him to pray. One woman later said she had been repeatedly involved with him during these visits, became pregnant multiple times as a result, and had to terminate the pregnancies.

Through all of it, something extraordinary happened. His church did not abandon him.

Members of the Christian Praying Assembly continued to fill the pews every Sunday. They took out paid newspaper advertorials celebrating his birthday, year after year, while he sat on death row. They read prison letters from him aloud during services, urging the congregation to continue in the faith he had taught them. When rumours spread that his execution might finally be carried out, church leaders stood at the pulpit and warned that Nigeria would boil if anyone touched their Holiness.

A man was convicted by three separate courts, including the highest court in the country, of burning his own church members alive, and was separately accused of sexually exploiting women even from behind prison walls. And thousands of people still called him a man of God.

He remains on death row in Nigeria today. Nigeria has an unofficial moratorium on carrying out executions, so even with his sentence fully affirmed, Reverend King has not been hanged.

Now here is what I want you to think about.

Six people knelt down in front of a man they trusted with their souls, accused of a private sin, and he answered that accusation with fire. One of them never went home again. The institution built around him did not collapse. It defended him. It celebrated him. And even behind bars, his authority over the women in his orbit reportedly never stopped.

That is what unquestioned spiritual authority can become when nobody is allowed to ask is this really God's will, or just one man's appetite wearing God's name.

- Sally Writes

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

His name is Chukwuemeka Ezeugo from Uga, Anambra State. He founded the Christian Praying Assembly, a Pentecostal church headquartered in Ikeja, Lagos. To his thousands of followers he was known as Reverend King, or simply His Holiness. He preached, he led, he commanded total obedience.

On July 22 2006, Reverend King accused six members of his own congregation of fornication and adultery. He gathered them together at his residence. According to witnesses, he had them beaten with hard objects. Then he made them kneel down. Then he ordered petrol poured over their bodies.

Then he set them on fire.

One of the victims, a young woman named Ann Uzoh, suffered third degree burns over much of her body. She was rushed to hospital, where doctors fought to save her life for eleven days. She did not survive. The other five victims, also doused and set ablaze, suffered severe injuries but lived.

He was arraigned in September 2006 on six counts of attempted murder and murder. He pleaded not guilty to every single charge.

At trial, ten witnesses came forward to testify against him. His defence tried to discredit them by pointing to small inconsistencies in their statements, but it was not enough. On January 11 2007, Justice Joseph Oyewole of the Lagos State High Court found him guilty and sentenced him to death by hanging.

He appealed. In 2013 the Court of Appeal upheld the conviction. He appealed again, all the way to Nigeria's Supreme Court. On February 26 2016 the apex court dismissed his final appeal and affirmed the death sentence. The presiding judge, the late Justice Sylvester Ngwuta, described the facts of the case as something that could have been lifted from a horror film.

And even on death row, the disturbing reports did not stop.

While awaiting his appeal, Reverend King was accused of having sexual relations with female visitors and prisoners, allegations serious enough that prison authorities transferred him between facilities multiple times, from Kirikiri to Kuje in Abuja, then to Kaduna, then to Katsina, partly because of the volume of followers, including notable politicians, who kept visiting him to pray. One woman later said she had been repeatedly involved with him during these visits, became pregnant multiple times as a result, and had to terminate the pregnancies.

Through all of it, something extraordinary happened. His church did not abandon him.

Members of the Christian Praying Assembly continued to fill the pews every Sunday. They took out paid newspaper advertorials celebrating his birthday, year after year, while he sat on death row. They read prison letters from him aloud during services, urging the congregation to continue in the faith he had taught them. When rumours spread that his execution might finally be carried out, church leaders stood at the pulpit and warned that Nigeria would boil if anyone touched their Holiness.

A man was convicted by three separate courts, including the highest court in the country, of burning his own church members alive, and was separately accused of sexually exploiting women even from behind prison walls. And thousands of people still called him a man of God.

He remains on death row in Nigeria today. Nigeria has an unofficial moratorium on carrying out executions, so even with his sentence fully affirmed, Reverend King has not been hanged.

Now here is what I want you to think about.

Six people knelt down in front of a man they trusted with their souls, accused of a private sin, and he answered that accusation with fire. One of them never went home again. The institution built around him did not collapse. It defended him. It celebrated him. And even behind bars, his authority over the women in his orbit reportedly never stopped.

That is what unquestioned spiritual authority can become when nobody is allowed to ask is this really God's will, or just one man's appetite wearing God's name.

- Sally Writes

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley Wow. First time i learning about him

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley A lot to learn here. May God help us

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

Wow

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

Today was my first time ever spending Father's Day with my Dad, and although he doesn't look like it in the picture he enjoyed church and looked forward to today just as much as I did.

For most of my life, I was robbed of the experience of being a "Daddy's Girl."

Growing up, I was constantly told that my dad didn't do anything for me. I was told he never paid child support. I was told he always had excuses for why he didn't show up. As a child, I believed those things because they came from the adults I trusted.

Then, at 33 years old, I learned that none of it was true.

During a conversation with my aunt, she shared something that completely changed my perspective. She told me that every Friday, my daddy would drop off a check for me. The problem wasn't that he wasn't paying it was that the amount wasn't what my caregiver felt it should be. Because it wasn't enough in her eyes, it was treated as if it was nothing at all.

I also learned that at my school plays, swim meets, and other events, my caregiver would often start arguments with my dad. Anyone who knows my father knows he's not a confrontational man. Rather than create a scene or disrupt my special moments, he would quietly leave.

When I confronted my dad with what I had learned, he went and pulled out an envelope. Inside were copies of checks dating back to 1995 and receipts for clothes he had bought for me throughout the years.

Tunk is known for being a smooth OG. Always dressed sharp in a Kangol, cleaner than a whistle. He even had pictures of me dressed just like him from head to toe in leather skirts, boots, sports jackets, and Jordans that he had purchased for me.

In that moment, my heart broke.

I realized I had spent years carrying resentment toward a man who had been trying to show up for me all along.I apologized to my dad for the anger I had held onto for so many years.

Then I started thinking about the man I know today. My dad shows up for everything involving my daughter. Every event. Every milestone.

Every opportunity he gets.

The core of who he is has never changed.
And if he's willing to show up for my child, I know he showed up for me.

I asked him, "Why didn't you fight harder? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

His response is something I'll never forget:
"I knew one day you'd be old enough to see things for yourself."

That answer hit me harder than anything else.

I hate that it took 33 years for me to see the truth, but I'm grateful that God allowed us the opportunity to begin a new journey together.

I share my story for the women who use their children as pawns. For the women who minimize a father's efforts simply because he's not doing things exactly the way they want him to.

Be careful.

The resentment you encourage a child to hold toward their father may one day become resentment toward you. Children grow up. They mature. They ask questions. They connect dots. And eventually, they become old enough to see things for themselves.

Written by Coco Lamb (daughter and father pictured)

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

Today was my first time ever spending Father's Day with my Dad, and although he doesn't look like it in the picture he enjoyed church and looked forward to today just as much as I did.

For most of my life, I was robbed of the experience of being a "Daddy's Girl."

Growing up, I was constantly told that my dad didn't do anything for me. I was told he never paid child support. I was told he always had excuses for why he didn't show up. As a child, I believed those things because they came from the adults I trusted.

Then, at 33 years old, I learned that none of it was true.

During a conversation with my aunt, she shared something that completely changed my perspective. She told me that every Friday, my daddy would drop off a check for me. The problem wasn't that he wasn't paying it was that the amount wasn't what my caregiver felt it should be. Because it wasn't enough in her eyes, it was treated as if it was nothing at all.

I also learned that at my school plays, swim meets, and other events, my caregiver would often start arguments with my dad. Anyone who knows my father knows he's not a confrontational man. Rather than create a scene or disrupt my special moments, he would quietly leave.

When I confronted my dad with what I had learned, he went and pulled out an envelope. Inside were copies of checks dating back to 1995 and receipts for clothes he had bought for me throughout the years.

Tunk is known for being a smooth OG. Always dressed sharp in a Kangol, cleaner than a whistle. He even had pictures of me dressed just like him from head to toe in leather skirts, boots, sports jackets, and Jordans that he had purchased for me.

In that moment, my heart broke.

I realized I had spent years carrying resentment toward a man who had been trying to show up for me all along.I apologized to my dad for the anger I had held onto for so many years.

Then I started thinking about the man I know today. My dad shows up for everything involving my daughter. Every event. Every milestone.

Every opportunity he gets.

The core of who he is has never changed.
And if he's willing to show up for my child, I know he showed up for me.

I asked him, "Why didn't you fight harder? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

His response is something I'll never forget:
"I knew one day you'd be old enough to see things for yourself."

That answer hit me harder than anything else.

I hate that it took 33 years for me to see the truth, but I'm grateful that God allowed us the opportunity to begin a new journey together.

I share my story for the women who use their children as pawns. For the women who minimize a father's efforts simply because he's not doing things exactly the way they want him to.

Be careful.

The resentment you encourage a child to hold toward their father may one day become resentment toward you. Children grow up. They mature. They ask questions. They connect dots. And eventually, they become old enough to see things for themselves.

Written by Coco Lamb (daughter and father pictured)

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

How do we call this kind of decision?

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

A court in Mombasa, Kenya granted custody of two children, a boy and a girl, to their mother.

Moments after the judgment, the children broke down in tears and openly resisted the decision, insisting that they wanted to remain with their father. The attached video is a clip of the children resisting the judgment.

It's a painful scene to watch. Sometimes, the most important voices in a custody dispute are those of the children themselves.

If you ask me, when children are old enough to express where they feel safe, loved, and happy, their voices matter should matter most. Anything else is injustice to the children.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley Oh wow. Is thia decision not obviously against the children's welfare?

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

A court in Mombasa, Kenya granted custody of two children, a boy and a girl, to their mother.

Moments after the judgment, the children broke down in tears and openly resisted the decision, insisting that they wanted to remain with their father. The attached video is a clip of the children resisting the judgment.

It's a painful scene to watch. Sometimes, the most important voices in a custody dispute are those of the children themselves.

If you ask me, when children are old enough to express where they feel safe, loved, and happy, their voices matter should matter most. Anything else is injustice to the children.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

Airline has joined in the banter against C. Ronaldo 😁🤣

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

🤪🤪🤪🤪

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

🤪🤪🤪🤪

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley CR7 don suffer 🤣🤣🤣

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley This is why I detest jungle justice. No way innocent people won't be victims. This is sad

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

This is why I hate jungle justice

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

Ummulkhairi, a teacher, left her home a few days ago to attend an Islamic lecture in New Maraban Jos, Kaduna State. Because she was unfamiliar with the exact location, when she got to the area, she simply asked some children to show her the way.

Sadly, that innocent request became the beginning of a tragedy.

She was falsely accused of attempting to kidnap the children and taken to the police station. Although community leaders, scholars, and family representatives identified her as a respected teacher and made it clear that there was no evidence against her, an angry mob refused to listen.

Despite pleas for mercy, she was dragged out of the station, brutally attacked, killed, and her body set ablaze.

It is heartbreaking that a woman who left home in search of knowledge never returned to her family. Imagine the lifelong pain this act has caused her loved ones, family, and children.

I know Nigerians are angry and frustrated by the insecurity situation in the country, but we must thoroughly verify any accusation to avoid innocent people being unjustly caught up in such situations. False accusations, mob action, and the refusal to allow due process can destroy innocent lives in moments.

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

Ummulkhairi, a teacher, left her home a few days ago to attend an Islamic lecture in New Maraban Jos, Kaduna State. Because she was unfamiliar with the exact location, when she got to the area, she simply asked some children to show her the way.

Sadly, that innocent request became the beginning of a tragedy.

She was falsely accused of attempting to kidnap the children and taken to the police station. Although community leaders, scholars, and family representatives identified her as a respected teacher and made it clear that there was no evidence against her, an angry mob refused to listen.

Despite pleas for mercy, she was dragged out of the station, brutally attacked, killed, and her body set ablaze.

It is heartbreaking that a woman who left home in search of knowledge never returned to her family. Imagine the lifelong pain this act has caused her loved ones, family, and children.

I know Nigerians are angry and frustrated by the insecurity situation in the country, but we must thoroughly verify any accusation to avoid innocent people being unjustly caught up in such situations. False accusations, mob action, and the refusal to allow due process can destroy innocent lives in moments.

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

@Senior_Sley No controversy. He's the undisputed GOAT

[Nigerian Survivor 💙 @first_humane]

No controversy

[Itsede Okhai @Senior_Sley]

The greatest of all times! No controversy. No one even comes close. Messi for a reason, and for the reason we all see 💪💪