What you are created for is what you are rated for. Its an offence to loose your originality.

The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don’t define them, learn about them, or even seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will be sharing the adventure with them.

If you have love you don’t need to have anything else, but if you don’t have it, it doesn’t matter what else you have.

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere.

Hold to forgiveness, command what is right; but turn away from the ignorant.

Nothing can add more power to your life than concentrating all you energies on a limited set of targets.

Everyone is gifted – but some people never open their package.

A well-directed imagination is the source of great deeds.

The best way to predict the future is to invent it.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; We grow old because we stop playing.” –George Bernard Shaw

Start even if it’s unpopular. Make noise. Get better. Build ‘Trust Capital.’ Be consistent! – Gbenga Sesan

A child will never learn to walk by sitting still and waiting to “be able to walk”. Stand up, walk and learn on the go.

The poor shouldn’t be seen as means to enrich ourselves, rather we should think about how we can use creative solutions to help them. -Yunus

Key is to add value, not mere interest in doing good.

As you live your days, so you craft your life. – Robin Sharma

Good fortune and bad are equally necessary to man, to fit him to meet the contingencies of this life – French proverb

“Life all comes down to a few moments. This is one of them.” Bud Fox American stockbroker from the film “Wall Street” (1987)

Do not just sit there waiting for the world to present opportunities to you ~L. Daskal

“Dig the well before you are thirsty.” — Chinese Proverb

Then, he announced that he was going to have a ‘special’ service the coming Sunday, and that everyone should come along with a bar of ‘Joy’ beauty soap. I thought I didn’t hear that well, but he said it again and quoted scriptures saying ‘he who believes a prophet shall recieve the reward of a prophet…’. ‘Joy beauty soap’! Well, the rationale was that he would pray on the soap and you would have Joy in your life presumably after bathing with it…Oh and he had those titles, Prophet,Dr…JP…lol.

I have since learnt my lesson on condemning “Men of God”, so I didn’t condemn him straightaway, even though I didn’t believe a believer in his right senses should attend such a programme.

But wait a minute…Of all the miracles done by Prophets in the bible, Elijah, Elisha to name a few; which was normal especially as regards the use of ‘instrument’.

My question to you my esteemed readers is “What’s your take”?

He told them “I’ve heard that no one can take their money when they leave this earth. I have $3 million dollars in 3 seperate envelopes under my bed at home. I want you to split it into three, and each of you should throw your $1 million dollars into my grave just before it is covered up with sand”.

On the day of the burial, as the grave was been covered up, the three men threw their envelopes into the grave.

“I am sorry, I needed $250,000 for a church building, so i took $250,000 and threw the remaining into the grave”; the Pastor told the others, unable to hold back.

“I took $500,000 to buy some medical equipments for the hospital and threw the remaining into the grave”, the doctor confessed.

“Gentlemen, I am shocked you could hold unto such large amount of money. I wrote a personal signed check of the full amount and dropped it in the grave…”, the lawyer remarked.

Lol…Ha Ha Ha

I and Justin Hartmann

The BarCamp Nigeria 2009 experience (25/04/2009) was a “one in a million” one for me. It would probably be the best “technology networking” conference i have ever attended. It however had its own hiccups.

First, there was no early facebook event created to remind me of the program on time. I got wind of it through someone’s facebook status a day to the program! I had been looking forward to it and even though it fell on the “Eyo Festival”, there was no way i was going to miss it.

Yours truly

The Geeks

On the morning of the day, i had no idea of the location and time, but luckily i had added the event’s tweet on twitter. So i was able to get the info I needed. I found it difficult to locate the venue and when i did, was disappointed at first at the outward look…but when i entered the building (Tom Associates Training Center-www.tomassociatesng.com), i was awed by the exqusite interior design, arrangement and air conditioning (another proof that you should never judge a book by its cover).

All For Me...lol

I got to the event a bit late but met the lecture of justin hartmann of www.afrigator.com as it rounded up. Next, was a session on the potentials of the net in nigeria (not the original topic) which involved justin hartmann, gbenga sesan (www.gbengasesan.com), Loy (www.startupsnigeria.com) and one other professional. It was an interesting session but i was chatting most of the time to the brain behind Wazzap (www.wazaap.com), an upcoming web application to be launched in August.

The major point I got from this session was that its all about starting your idea, launching it out and been consistent with it. You can always improve on it, just act on it!

Then we had breakout sessions which were lovely and a lecture from a Microsoft Representative in between. I got a lot of contacts, learnt new insights into using tinyurl with twitter, learnt about www.roomatic.com …even met a twitter addict…lol. I also got a lot of contacts, which is something you hardly get in conferences that are supposed to be for networking. BarCamp Nigeria’s Organisers understood this….Kudos, guys. It was a lovely event and can’t wait for the next one. (I also plan on using the Hall for any programme I might have or suggest it to others).

BarCamp Nigeria 2009 was a lovely experience…and its a wrap y’all.

However, as difficult as it would be to pick out who inspired me most, I decided to try and guess who I came up with!

Gbenga Sesan of www.gbengasesan.com !!!

Gbenga is a “social entrepreneur” who called himself a “noise maker”…lol. You will probably find out more about Gbenga from his site above. Gbenga has been online for a very long time.

Why Gbenga Sesan?

First, his poise and charisma. Gbenga carried himself well throughout the program, but I was really impressed at the way he made the session on “social networks”/”web …” come alive. Kuyinu was also good in this session.

Secondly and Mainly, was his contributions as a panelist. I loved his contributions, his delivery, coinage of terms like “Trust Capital”, his firm understanding of the web sector and his zest for getting the facts and using them to back up his propositions. Like Justin Hartmann (My second Persona of the day), he also encouraged us to just start! and then build on it. I loved what he said on the 1000 hrs principle which states that if you spend …hrs on a subject, you become an expert in it.

So, who was your Persona of the day?

“When any of my customers wants to have sex with me without using condoms, I usually protest. Then we will strike a bargain and we will do it. He won’t know that he is buying his death with his own money. However, there are many who will never have sex without using condoms. But I have a way of dealing with them. When I am having sex with such men, I usually shake my buttocks vigorously so as to burst the condom, and if the condom bursts and the man is carried away, he won’t bother about fixing another condom”.

These lines are taken from a pathetic story in The Sun newspaper of Saturday, April 18. They belong to a young Nigerian lady called Sandra, who has been served the wrong end of the stick by a crazy society where the future is uncertain even for young girls, and who has chosen to become an assassin in protest. There are probably many others like her whose stories move us to tears and frustration and for whom we feel neither disgust nor pity but sympathy. Sandra’s story holds in one explosive capsule, many of the disturbing issues in the Nigerian society: the insecurity of lives and property, the lack of trauma care for victims of circumstances, the abortion of hopes, rape, prostitution, abortion, poverty, the failure of governance, and the likely effect of psychological and social violence on the society at large. Increasingly, everyday, Nigerians are disappointed by society, and in all ways, they turn upon and against each other; such spectacle of man’s inhumanity to man, such display of social violence. And yet it is common to hear them proclaim “the grace of God” in their lives.

Sandra’s story is shocking says Henry Umahi, the reporter of her story. Indeed it is. Four years ago, the future lay at her feet. She was 17, a virgin, and she had just been offered admission into the Delta State University, Abraka, to study Banking and Finance. Many young Nigerians love to study Banking and Finance. It is certainly not one of those courses of study that former President Olusegun Obasanjo considered useless. She must have dreamt of getting a job in a bank, with a good salary to go with it, nicely cut skirts and the self-confidence that comes with having made something out of one’s life. But Nigerian roads are full of dangers.

She had travelled to Asaba to visit her elder brother, her only sibling, who obviously was willing to pay her school fees. Two days after, her brother died in a motor accident. Motor accident is an easy cause of death in Nigeria. The roads are bad. The drivers are reckless. The vehicles are mostly second hand, used vehicles from Europe and North America running on used and worn tyres that are not made for the tropics. Earlier this year, the FRSC reported that over 1.2 million persons died from motor accident-related injuries in 2008 alone! The hospitals are ill-equipped, there is no emergency rescue facility, and concerned passers-by who usually stop to help, have no clues about how to deal with emergencies and save lives. Nigerians survive on the roads, by “the grace of God”. “In fact for me”, says Sandra, “life had come to an abrupt end.” But the worst was yet to come. “Another tragedy befell me on my way home to tell my poor mother. Our bus was hijacked by five armed men. They took the vehicle into the bush, robbed us and raped the women. I was one of those the bastards raped. At that time I was still a virgin. I had not known a man. It was a very ugly experience and it made me wonder what a cruel world we live in. It was so horrible, I passed out during the gruesome rape. I had pleaded with them, but they wouldn’t let go. Before the attacks, I was already in sorrow and tears. It was the worst thing that could happen to anyone and it made me form an opinion about men.”

Sandra couldn’t tell anyone what had happened to her. Rape is one of the biggest problems in Nigeria, and the unfortunate thing is that the extant law and the fear of social stigma make it extremely difficult for women who have been so abused to get justice. Robbery on the highways is also rampant. Vehicles are waylaid by armed robbers and after looting cash and property, the hoodlums always end up raping the women. Rarely do the victims go to the police. Women are raped in police stations too by police officers and other uniformed men.

When soldiers raided Odi a few years ago, after sacking the community, they asked the women to line up and they raped them one after the other. The Punch newspaper published the photographs but there is no record of any soldier being punished for rape. These days, the newspapers are full of reports of rape: old men abuse young girls, campus cultists rape female students and female lecturers, fathers rape their daughters. The ones who get caught blame the Devil. The country is full of the devil’s agents. Unless rape is properly criminalized by protecting the interest of the victim, the problem is bound to persist. The highways also need to become more secure.

Sandra couldn’t “bring herself to tell anyone what happened, not even her mother”, because she didn’t want to be stigmatised. She couldn’t seek help, because there are no counseling centres provided by the state. Then all of a sudden, she discovered that she was pregnant. She finally had to confide in her mother. She also chose to abort the pregnancy: those who insist that abortion is anti-God should read her story. She had no choice. Then, after the abortion, she discovered that she had been infected with the dreaded HIV. With her brother dead, there was no way she could take up the offer of admission into university. With the HIV-infection, she felt her world had come to an end. From being a virgin and a prospective university student, circumstances had conspired to turn her into a failure, all within six months.

When one of her friends later suggested that she could go to Lagos and become a commercial sex worker, she readily agreed. Her goal: “to make money and to infect men with HIV”. And so she says: “for three years now, I have been distributing the stuff and it makes me really happy. Men are evil; they deserve no mercy. To hell with the men of this world”. By the reporter’s calculations, Sandra would have infected about 4, 640 men with HIV in the last three years, at the rate of four men per day. These are men who do not want to use condom, or those who fall victim of Sandra’s buttocks-wriggling tactics.

Is Sandra the devil-incarnate? Is she suffering as they say around here, “from home trouble?”. What is known is that she thinks all the men of this world are evil. If she was sure that the armed robbers who raped her were later arrested and made to pay for their crime, perhaps she would have been satisfied that justice had been done. She believes that the world is cruel and she is willing to promote that cruelty further. Should we blame her? A few years ago, the story was told of a self-respecting lady who was raped by armed robbers. She couldn’t stand the shame. She reportedly committed suicide. Sandra is not willing to die, rather she has become an assassin: punishing menfolk for the crime that five of their kind committed. Imagine the number of other women and men that would have fallen victim through Sandra.

Even in her unhappy state, she had cause to smile recently when two soldiers decided to rape her at Tarkwa Bay. She said she not only enjoyed the moment, she “was shedding tears of joy”. “The only thing that I regret is that they stole my money and handsets”. What a story. Human lives no longer mean anything to her. For her, money and a handset are more important. And “any man that comes her way is an enemy”.

And she tells her story with utmost glee. Her story speaks to the failure of government. It is the responsibility of government to inspire confidence in the justice system, so that aggrieved persons may seek justice formally rather than resort to jungle justice and self-help. Sandra’s protest is not only directed at men, but also at the Nigerian state which has been unable to protect men, women and human rights and provide equal opportunities for all.

This is also a story that should be circulated among all men who keep multiple partners, including those who do not patronise prostitutes, but who like to play around all the same, buying death with their money. Those who argue that abstinence and fidelity to a single partner is the best way to minimize the risk of HIV infection through sex should be excited by this story. “AIDS no dey show for face,” says one advert on television. Sandra’s picture is published in The Sun newspaper, with her face blocked out to protect her identity, but the visible outline of her body, gait and gap-tooth suggests that she must be quite attractive. Who would ever suspect that she is an assassin on the prowl? And how many ladies are like her and even men too, looking for ways of spreading HIV?

The Sun newspaper should not stop at telling her story, efforts should be made to bring help her way. Civil society groups working on HIV/AIDS issues should seek her out, and help to wean her from her chosen “mission to kill”. She also obviously needs psychiatric help. But more importantly, a lot still needs to be done to enlighten Nigerians about the reality of HIV/AIDS. Until Fela, the Afro-beat maestro died of HIV-related complications and his family chose to disclose the cause of death, many Nigerians regarded HIV/AIDS as Western propaganda. After a few years of so-called general awareness, Nigerians have now gone back to their old state of denial. There are Nigerian men who continue to insist that they will never use condom or that it is unnatural to stay with one partner.

“How can a man be eating the same thing everyday?”, they query. “Do you know anybody who is living with HIV/AIDS.? Everywhere you turn: AIDS AIDS, AIDS but I don’t know anybody who has died of AIDS. Look more people are dying from malaria and heart attack”, one fellow once argued. I have heard people declare cynically that “man must die of something.” When you point to national statistics and the HIV sero-prevalence, they readily tell you that those figures have been manufactured by NGOs and government agencies in order to attract foreign funding. And these are supposed to be educated Nigerians.

And so they fall into the hands of the likes of Sandra, with a fine face, murderous condom-negotiating skills and the heart to kill. And the tragedy spreads. What does the law say? Is she insane? Or she should be recommended for arrest, but she would probably end up sleeping with an entire police station, spread more HIV, and walk free.

The other day, there was one of those ‘u don hit my car’ moments on Ikorodu Road. As we sat in traffic waiting for the people involved to sort themselves out, I spotted a man waiting to cross the road.

He was holding onto a fairly large goat by a rope tied round its neck and was watching the oncoming traffic keenly, waiting for the right moment to dash across.

Unfortunately for the man, his goat was not enthusiastic about crossing Ikorodu Road and made it quite clear by the way it positioned itself.

It planted its feet firmly on the ground – braced to resist if the man tried to pull it onto the road – and kept turning away from the expressway. Every so often the man would have to pause from his traffic watch and struggle to get the goat into the correct road-crossing position.

The incredible thing was that this man was standing right under a pedestrian bridge, one that was in full use. There was a steady stream of people walking across the pedestrian bridge and even a number of safety-conscious okada riders had used it.

I watched the guy to see how he was going to dash across a busy highway with a large, hairy, uncooperative animal by his side.

I didn’t know that Benjamin had noticed them as well, until he commented on the spectacle. “See as that goat set im leg,” Benj said, “Dat goat no go cross dat road today, lai lai.”

We watched in silence for a few minutes as the man and his goat struggled again. “E be like say de goat wan use de pedestrian bridge” Benjamin observed. “E no wan die for Ikorodu Road.”

“Maybe the goat knows that the man is taking it to a place where it will be killed, that’s why it doesn’t want to go,” I replied, refusing to believe that a goat would have more sense about road safety than a grown man with hair on his chest.

I thought it was incredible that a goat, with nothing much to look forward to by way of a future, would value its life more than a man valued his.

The poor thing took one look at the way the cars, trucks and petrol tankers whizzed past, sensed danger and said to itself: “I may end up in a pot by the end of today but this ain’t the way to go.”

The man and his goat struggled again. The goat was too large and probably too heavy to carry otherwise the man looked like he was ready to tuck it under his arm and make a dash for it.

The man tugged at the rope unsuccessfully then bent over, put his arms around the goat’s mid section and jerked it into position so that it faced the expressway. He had barely straightened up when the goat turned away again and faced the pedestrian bridge.

Benjamin and I had a good laugh. “So this is why they say ‘as stubborn as a goat,’” I said to myself.
Other daredevil highway crossers like the man – people who refused to use the pedestrian bridge provided for their safety – gave him odd looks as they walked past him and his stubborn goat.

They all leaned into the road, did the quick calculation (2 speeding cars plus 1 Formula One okada rider divided by 1 truck piled high with yams equals NOW!) then they sprinted across the highway, tucking in their buttocks as they leaped to safety on the other side, so that the truck whizzing past with a load of yams wouldn’t shave an inch off their backsides.

As crazy as they all were to make that crossing, from the looks they gave the man with the goat, they obviously thought that he was even crazier.

“All dis time wey dis man don waste here, if to say in use de pedestrian bridge e for don cross longest time,” Benjamin said. At this point our lane began to move as the drivers in front of us inched their way past the point where one car had hit another.

I turned to look at the man, still waiting to cross the road after nearly ten minutes, and wondered: Between a goat that wouldn’t obey its owner and a man who refused to use a pedestrian bridge, who really was the stubborn goat?

In a split second, he was in the midst of the crowd (there was no way he would be late for his interview, even if he had to hang),
struggling and shoving, throwing punches and getting back same, everyone wanted to get into this bus. With the shout of a gladiator,
JohnBull pushed as hard as he could, and got into the bus (He was happy, but unknown to him, his wallet and handset had been stolen!).
Making his way inside the bus, JohnBull cursed when he heard the fare; it had been increased by 100%, Mcheew! He should have taken a Molue.
Anyway he felt he could still afford it. “JohnBull!JohnBull!JohnBull!”, it was Nneka calling his name. He swiftly went to sit with her.
(This girl who he had long toasted was smiling at him, and calling his name! He didn’t know however that Nneka couldn’t afford the fare,
and just wanted to use him…well he’d show her he was a big boy and pay her fare, and when he buys his car…the fool kept dreaming).

Two individuals were cursing each other in the bus (obviously, they had traded blows in the rush to enter the bus); “Oloshi! Were! Ko ni
da fun gbogbo yin ni village yin! Agbaya! Wo oju e bi oju eja! Ashewo! Your Father! You’ll die before this week ends! Na ur whole family go die!”.
“Sorry o”; people were consoling a man who had his shirt torn while struggling to get into the bus. Most were mocking him, including his
sympathisers. “Oloshi, u no fit wait for another bus! pele, u better go back home! Yeye!”.
The conductor was struggling with Agberos (touts) at the B/Stop.1
“Owo Security, Owo loading (Security money, loading money)”. “Mu Ten Fibre wa! (Bring N100)”. “Rara o! Gba shandy (No, take N20)”.
“Ori e o pe abi, o fe kin disfigure oju e ni, o ni fe we lori transformer! (I’ll disfigure your face if you don’t pay, you won’t want to
take your bath on top of a transformer!)”.

//The bus conductor will be referred to as Condi from now on, and the driver as Pilot from hereon.

“Oya! Make we dey go now”. Condi abruptly paid the agbero (tout), and Pilot stepped on the pedal, jolting everyone in the bus, he was out of the
bus stop in a jiffy, not without curses from the passengers. “Useless People, if LASTMA or RRS catches me, they’ll all get down and collect their
money…yeye people! Mcheeeeew!!!”, Pilot thought to himself.

JohnBull was looking for a way to engage Nneka in a conversation. “Baby, i like the way u walk, i like the way you carry your bag”, JohnBull told
Nneka. Nneka blushed…the stupid condi should collect the fare quickly, this JohnBull was fast becoming a nuisance…if not that she had no money
…what business does a poor man have with sheraton…Mcheeeeewww! (But she had no choice, the mugu would pay after all…).
“Thank you”, she replied.
“So where are you going to?”. “Work”. “Where?”. “GRA”. “Wow!”. JohnBull was impressed, if only he knew she was just a cleaner…

Condi was now asking for money…Nneka felt relieved, she would soon put this guy in his place. “Bring out your money, i no get change o!”

When Condi got to them, Johnbull waved him on, and told Nneka he would pay for her. She smiled, thanked him, and stroke his arm. JohnBull
was on fire! Chei…this girl that had showed him pepper… Girls, they can die for money.
He reached into his pocket for his wallet. It wasn’t there! No way, this can’t be happening! He looked at the person at his back, it was an old
woman; she definitely could not have stolen his wallet. He was mad, if not for Nneka he would have caused trouble in this bus…
He searched his pockets again…Nneka looked at him…he smiled at her. “Chei!!! i don die!”, JohnBull thought to himself.
“GRA wa o”, Nneka shouted to let Condi know she was getting off at the next B/Stop.
JohnBull had an option, he had a small change in his folder, but it could only pay for one person’s fare. Nneka’s announcement meant it would be her fare
he would pay…he would sort himself out with Condi. She had stroked his arm, he couldn’t fail now, not now…he imagined what would happen in the evening.
Reluctantly, he paid for Nneka’s fare with his last change and told Condi to chill as he would still pay him.
The bus had gotten to GRA and Nnkeka got down without even saying Goodbye to JohnBull…
“She must be in a rush to work”, JohnBull thought.
“Mugu! Mumu! Good riddance to bad rubbish! Mcheeew!!!”, Nneka said to herself. (She had gist for her fellow cleaners at work today, they would so laugh!)

JohnBull looked at Nneka’s beautiful figure fade out as the bus moved on, Damn…she was beautiful.
Condi was coming towards him now, it was him and Condi now…
What would he do???

———————————
Watch out for Part 2 coming out soon…lol

We haven’t gotten to the next bus-stop and Condi starts bugging me for the fare.
“Is something wrong with this bus? I hope not cos I go collect my money back sam sam. I get ‘were’ o and small ‘craze’ o”;
I am thinking to myself.
Pilot steps hard on the brakes again and passengers scream warnings “Rora o! Na only me my mama born o! I no ay goobye for
house o! I get family for house o!”.
Condi starts bugging me again for the fare. I pay am so dem no go talk sey ‘wetin this one dey feel like’?
The woman wey dey ma side don dey look me somehow. and lagos women, dem no dey tey run their mouth.

Pilot marsh the brake hard again!!! This pilot don take ‘paraga’ ni, abi e don ‘shayo’ or na ‘pami’ he take.
E be like say im think say im dey NASCAR, or im think say e dey drive bullion van.
“Bobo yi rora o!”, “Guy, wetin now?”, “Oga, fun ra re ni brain o!”; Passengers warn Pilot.
He continues driving ”Danfo Style’ and Im praying I Don’t Puke.
The bus starts coughing again, This bus needs Baba Blue o. ‘Mo ti si bus wo leni’.
“Wan wun, Wan wun, Wan wun, Wan wun”; a siren blares behind me.
Shey Fashola don ban Siren for Lagos na?
Who be the important personality sef? I turn and see one guy driving a Lagos state environmental vehicle,
im really pissed off!

I love Lagos ‘Hold up’, Plenty choppies, “You can have whatever you like…”

I need yogurt, I see the yogurt guy coming and reach into my pocket to get my wallet… its not there! I search all my pocket,
For where! Chei! My wallet don waka! I no go gree o! I go search evrybody for this moto!
I use style look the person wey dey mt back whether e fit be am, and i see my wallet for floor. Omigosh! My mind don settle.
I for waka go house today or find story tell conductor or do ‘fine bara’.
You gotta love God and Lagos hold up, if not for that yogurt…

I will soon get down, make dis pilot allow me get down before im crash him bus with the useless way im dey drive.
(But why do we risk our lives? Can’t we all get down? Instead we silently pray “God, take us home, safely! Amen!”)

NO be me go come down from moving bus, u better park wella o, i no fit fall down make Lagosians dey tell me sorry
and use me laugh o.

Thank God I survived that crazy ride! Nes time, I beta look Pilot face before I enter Bus…

——————————-

After the rigorous task of cleaning the jeep for a hardworking fellow like me, my dad manged to leave me at home and head for church.
I played around with my mum, setting her phone’s radio et al, and then decided it was time to get going.

Just then I remembered that i was to be on the programme! OMG! I started running. Got a bike which was paid for by someone luckily, entered a bus and another bike en route to church. Yep! Its that far.

Getting to my teens church, i saw that it had been tiled, i was very happy and checking the roaster discovered that I was not on the program for the day! Sheesh!

Well, instead of a message we had a group discussion on the “place of the holy spirit in our ministry”.

The girls were ready, and I had the hard task of getting the scared boys to get their 3 representatives. I got two of them and added myself.

The boys and girls had their say and I was quite touched by peace’s talk (an almost 13 yr old girl speaking where her seniors where scared).

After the teens pastors contribution, we had other activities and rounded up the service. I called for a general meeting (and a special meeting with the boys) to discuss on our planned dinner. Lazy boys, they disappeared so quickly.

Next thing, the dinner committee chairman tells me the pastor wants to combine the dinner with a concert and he wants none of that. Im furious (by the way im the teens VP) and am gonna have none of that. Alas, the boy got it wrong and made me look like a fool in front of the pastor; that’s what happens when kids organize events. By the way im gonna override most of his decisions from now.

Away from church issues, Toyin gained admission into UNILAG and we talked a while. Couldn’t complete my assignments and Dad almost left me in church again!!! This my dad sha!

On my way to school, we argued on the issue of first class (se mo fe para mi ni). Only God can help me gat that.

The most interesting event of the day was when i boarded a bike to school. On our way, I saw a snake. it was beautiful. Apparently the bike man saw it and decided it would end up in his pot of soup that night. he headed back and ran the snake over. The snake coiled making it difficult to kill. The desperate guy removed his shirt and used it to carry the snake! I couldn’t believe it.

What a sunday!