Wednesday, 8 July 2015

SETTING UP A SMALL SCALE GARRI PROCESSING PLANT

YOU CAN GET A FREE MANUAL ON HOW TO MANAGE YOUR GARRI PROCESSING FACTORY EFFECTIVELY WITHOUT A HITCH HERE

Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.

www.garriprocessing.blogspot.com


***

Allow me to digress from the usual story telling or the likes that frequent my blog-line. This simple piece is complied because of the people who contact me for details on cassava cultivation and importantly, the minimum requirements of setting up a garri processing plant. I believe this will also help those who has interest in doing so.

Some of you might be wondering what Garri means, especially those who weren't from the western part of Africa and beyond. Not to worry, I will give a brief introduction before going to production by setting up a small scale processing factory.

a finished garri ready for consumption
looks yummy, isn't it? This is a typical African dish. Eba, from Garri, ready to be devoured with a very rich vegetable stew

Garri (also known as gari, garry, or tapioca) is a popular West African food made from cassava tubers. The spelling 'garri' is mainly used in Nigeria, Cameroon, Sierra Leone, Benin, Togo and in Ghana.

Actually, while in school, we call it - G2SO4 .... Garrium di-oxo sulphate six. Please, don't bother to check your chemistry books because it doesn't exist. It is a staple food widely consumed within some West African countries, and has recently etched it's name amongst the most exported African food products. The end product is packed in 50kg bags or less, and exported to other countries.




To make garri, cassava tubers are peeled, washed and grated or crushed to produce a mash. The mash is placed in a porous bag and weights are placed on the bag for one to two days or more to press excess water and starch out. It is then sieved (or sifted) and fried in an extra large clay frying pot with or without oil. The resulting dry granular garri can be stored for long periods. It may be pounded or ground to make a fine flour.

 
a local fryer.            www.ellist.com

 
If you are interested going into a well-planned and effective garri processing business, then there are some things you need to consider..


1. Land


You've got no choice but to have the land. An acre (6plots) is okay for a moderate processing company...
Of course it shouldn't be water logged, or the type that is not properly drained. The reason is very simple; so that you won't have yourself an unhealthy environment breeding flies and diseases due to the always wet environment.
This applies mainly to those who had no intention to screed the surrounding ground. But if u are ready to spend the money and screed the whole floor, then you're good to go.




www.ntoafrica.com






Some finished Product packed ready for export

www.nairaland.com

2. The processing building: this is built on the land


This will be classified into two compartments;

(a) the wet area

(b) the dry area


THE WET AREA


The wet area houses all necessary machinery see to the processes of washing the peeled cassava, fermenting and pressing. Most people prefer a very large trough where they wash thoroughly by hand. The grinder grinds into slurry, and the mash are packed in a porous sacks and placed on the fermentation racks to ferment. After this, the hydraulic pressers does its job of removing the waters.

The wet area should be kept clean always. I usually recommend cheap ceramic or rubber floor tiles to enable smooth and easy cleaning.

Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.

www.garriprocessing.blogspot.com


THE DRY AREA


The dry area comprises of the simple machine that sieves the pressed cassava. It also contains the fryer, and the again the simple machine that sieves roasted cassava (now garri) into required grains as required.

The dry area also houses the store. The stores are usually 2, one for keeping the packing sacks, and the other for storing the already packed garri ready to go out into the market.

The latter store will comprise two doors. One from the inside for storing, and the other outside for loading finished products into into truck. This enables a well organized FIFO process.

The dry area also allows the scale to found a sitting place. The scale's use is well known to all in measuring into the required quantity.
Toilets, borehole or a clean well, and the truck for delivery will have to settle outside.

Some uses fence while some love the open space. Either way, there will be a shed where fresh cassava tuber are delivered and peeled hand or by a cassava peeling machine. The disadvantages are always with them. While hand peeling wastes time and consumes both energy and money, the peeler has it's own, mainly two:

1. When the body of the tuber is not regular, it doesn't peel off every skin. You will still have to pay peelers to peel the remaining.


2. If you have to adjust the peeling machine to peel deeper, be ready to loose most of your tubers o waste.


MACHINERY NEEDED:


1. Peeler

a peeler in action                      www.elaborbizonline.com

 


2. Grinder



a grinder in action  


3. Hydraulic presser

hydraulic pressers               www.flicker.com


4. Mechanical Sieve

www.wmintegrateddevelopment.org       mechanical sieves

 5. Fryer

mechanical fryer

After frying, you sieve to separate the coarse from the fine produce. Some people likes them as larger finished products while some prefer it to be fine finished.


Garri production is very lucrative, and widely consumed.

the popular Nigerian international musician, D'banj, advertising his own garri product.
A white lady enjoying her ration of African food produced from garri

* it is advisable to finish the floors of your small factory with ceramic or rubber tiles for easy cleaning.

 

if you wish to set up your garri processing plant in a small scale, or you wish to know more, please contact me via:

+2347035593128

garriguy007@gmail.com



Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.



YOU CAN GET A FREE MANUAL ON HOW TO MANAGE YOUR GARRI PROCESSING FACTORY EFFECTIVELY WITHOUT A HITCH HERE

Sunday, 5 July 2015

BOOMERANG: the story of the foolish lady


I couldn’t bring myself to believe that my sister has brought this much shame upon us. Or let me say I did know she would, but I didn’t know it will be this quick. Now, for the first time in my life, the first son, the second born, I witnessed the whole family of four enveloped in a dark fog of darkness that may never leave again. I also needed to be blamed in all these; I should have talked when I had the chance, and I knew my dad would have taken a drastic measure. And probably, this wouldn’t have happened.
I remembered the day my dad asked me to go give my sister some urgent money in school. Her numbers weren’t going, and she said the deadline was going to be twelve noon that day. The first thing that went wrong was that she wasn’t staying in the school hostel as she claimed she was. I was directed to a friend, who directed me to another friend who said her friend will take me to her friend who knew her place off campus, where she was staying with her friends. Well, I got to the place, and I knocked without an answer. The door was left slightly opened, so I pushed my way in. The sight was a shame. My sister, including five of her friends was asleep and snoring like uncultured animals. My sister was sleeping in a vomit of another one who was naked, from waist to the top. I tapped her, and that was when I knew she was drunk.
Outside, she begged me not to tell our parents, and I agreed. Not that that didn’t have a price which she gladly paid. The dress she was wearing was not more than a handkerchief, and her nipples were pointing sideways. The skirt was a super micro mini like the ones I’ve only seen in movies involving prostitutes.  I wonder how she managed to appear at home during holidays like a responsible girl she was brought up to be. She should be a double agent. But I didn’t mind, she paid me good.
Then, just last week, a concerned friend of hers called my dad and told him that my sister was pregnant and was trying to self-abort it after the doctor said it might take her life. My parents flew to her school and carted her home. At home, my dad asked her to call the guy who was responsible for her pregnancy, but that proved to be the wrong move. The guy said he has already told my sister he can’t be responsible. This came about when the three different doctors said she can’t abort the pregnancy because she has aborted too many, and doing this will surely claim her life. He said my sister opened up to him that she has aborted eleven times for different guys! The guy even said he listened to her plea to abort the pregnancy after carefully considering he couldn’t marry a girl like her. He said they always have sex inside the toilet of the club where they met! He wasn’t even sure he was responsible. Guys at the club call her ‘el-Sarah’. The prefix before her name actually means ‘easy lay’, but she has always been told it meant ‘almighty’!
My dad, for the first time since I was born, cried like a baby, with his head on my mom’s bosom. My mom was trying to console my dad, but she was also crying. Everyone except me was. That day, our house was like a graveyard, silent, with a heavy air of darkness. El-Sarah cried throughout the night. Eventually, amidst her noise, I slept off.
The next day, I woke up to the usual silence and the unusual silence of El-Sarah. With curiosity, I headed to her room and found her dead with a note with two words, ‘I’m sorry’. I took the note and went straight to my parents’ room, I wasn’t feeling bad. My mom fell on the floor and started crying, but my dad, surprisingly, was calm. He held my arm and pulled me outside the room. I was scared; I thought he was going to accuse me because his countenance was stern and piercing. But as soon as he closed the door behind him, he looked into my eyes, raised the suicide note to my face and said,
“Son, I am sorry your sister had to take her life, we probably were too harsh on her, but this is not a solution, it never should be. If you are wondering why I wasn’t moved by this, it is because I am angry at her for hurting us, and then leaving us in mystery. Your mom might never overcome this shock. Suicide is never a way out; there is always a chance for redemption. Son, no matter what you did, what you will do, remember, we might get hurt, we might get harsh, but never take your life. That is never a way out.”

I nodded and went back inside, angry at my sister, the foolish one!

Friday, 3 July 2015

BOOMERANG: the story of a foolish man

I managed to fool everyone but myself when I said I wanted to travel to another State just to see my girlfriend. Because it wasn’t just another State, I will have to go through four states just to get to her State of residence, people believed I was committed to the relationship. I wasn’t, at least, not anymore.

Just two months ago, Sade and I nearly parted due to a slight argument, but people managed to intercede, and they thought they have averted what they thought was a disaster. But they haven’t, not when my mind was off the relationship already.

After I have convinced myself that she has been keeping another man, just like I have also been involved with Liza, another lady from the State where I resided, I decided to visit Sade with the guise that I was coming to settle our rift, when in truth, I only wanted to gather evidence against her; evidence that will be indisputable.

So, after spending the night with Liza, I set out on the journey to Sade’s place. On my way, I bought an Android phone as a gift and installed a call-recording spy app on the phone. I am sure she will make a call to the mystery guy within the seven days I have planned to spend. There is no need for the spy app because I already knew she has been planning a break-up since the time she suddenly called and informed me that whenever I visit, there won’t be any sexual intercourse as usual! But the people who have chosen to stand up in her defense must know the truth, hence, the reason for the spy app.

On the first night, while she was asleep, I checked the apps and listened to her calls- there was nothing much, same as the second day. On the third day, she received a call that wanted her to come over immediately. I was sure it was the guy, the mystery man. I was happy. That night, I refused to check the spy app: I thought it would be better to let her sins accumulate. The next day, she called from the office and said she will be coming home late from work; I gladly sanctioned it with a smile at my end. She didn’t arrive until 8:00 pm. I gave her a warm reception and patted her to a deep sleep after dinner.

In the middle of the night, I opened the app and listened, but I was disappointed. She has been attending prayer sessions just to pray for our relationship. In one of the calls, I heard the Pastor warn her not to compromise her stand of no-sex until her prayers of 90 days were completed. To make it more shameful, she was praying for me. I have no job since I was done with the youth service. In another call was how she was telling a guy who was begging her for a date that she will never cheat on me despite my poor State. She was defending me like a mother would her child, and reminding them of how things will soon be okay for us. I was no doubt ashamed of myself.

The next day was a Saturday. I took some money and told her I wanted to get some bread. But the truth was, I went straight to the shopping mall and bought some things for her. I wanted to make it a surprise, she deserved it. I was ashamed of my evil thoughts towards her, and I realized I have been an idiot. I went to the store and got her the best my money could afford. But when I got back home to her, the story changed.

She has gone through my phone and had all the evidence about my affairs with Liza, the other girl. The stupid girl sent me sexts and naked pictures of herself and how she has missed me and to remember my promise of jilting Sade and marrying her. I met her in tears, with a friend of hers consoling her. Not to waste time, she ended it right there. After the futile attempts to ask for forgiveness failed, I set out back to Liza. Liza wasn’t a bad girl anyway, and settling with her instead of Sade wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I got to Liza’s place late into the night, around 11:00 pm, since Sade insisted I must leave that day. I knocked and the opening revealed a surprised Liza in her transparent nightgown. I knew she was surprised because of the time, so I simply pushed her inside and went in. I nearly fainted when I saw a snoring fat male sleeping naked on the bed. I looked at Liza with my mouth gaped, but she covered her own mouth and sank into her knees, pleading.


The next day, without much ado, I woke up right on the hospital bed!


*picture from www.lipstickalley.com

Sunday, 28 June 2015

HOPING FOR FREEDOM

A hope for freedom


Nothing but evil surrounding my thoughts
Fog of sadness visiting my gladness
Wishes of riches destroying my conscience
So why I wonder, will I ever be free?


Free from these thoughts of unsecured future
Free from the wonders of unfruitful efforts
Free from my struggles and unyielding upshots
So I wonder, should I even be free?


Since the dreams of my childhood laid buried in the ground
And the joy of adulthood is nowhere to be found
Since the chips only learned to be down
Now, I know, I must never be free


Cloud of darkness must envelope my soul
Thoughts of evil must frequent my mind
Corruption and crimes eat away my conscience
If only I want, and wish to be free


Free from poverty and financial wreckage
Free from the sins I suffered but never committed
Free from disappointments and frequent headaches
Yes, I know, I must never be free


But I wish to free, I will work to be free
Corruption and crimes must not take control
The light and darkness both fight for my soul
But I must stay in the light; I must want to be free



*as a Nigerian, in a country that is trying to heal herself from the corruptions that have eaten deep into her morals, I struggle every day not to indulge in the regular practice. As a graduate, I have no stable job, I only see the temptation of following the crowd to make myself free from financial fetters. I thought of engaging in many wrong practices just to be free, but I must fight with my soul and wrestle down every thought of corruption. Even though people has almost believed that you cannot be okay without indulging in those, but that is not the freedom that I craved, I must never be corrupt if I truly wanted to be free. so, I hope on hope, that one day, I will truly be free.

picture from 123RF

Friday, 19 June 2015

THE FATE THAT NEVER WAS


He didn’t mind colliding into anything or anybody as he ran, all his thoughts fixated on how to stop the impending disaster. He used the speed dial feature on his phone once again, putting the phone in a speaker mode as it rang; the result was always the same- no answer!

    “No!” He shouted as he made efforts to run faster. “God, you need to help me”, he prayed and kept the cruise like a bull, avoiding obstacles in swiftness, and overcoming hurdles like a skilled athlete. He should have boarded a cab, but this is the time in Lagos where bus stops were stuffed up like a stadium hosting a derby, and a tortoise is faster than the traffic. Besides, his destination is just some few streets ahead.

    “Yes, thank God”, he said within himself as Nike’s house became visible. For the last time, he speed-dialed her number again and it was a dead end. He went right at the door and straight for the door latch- it was firmly shut. He shook it two more times before he flung it open with his foot. He slapped the wall for the switch and the horror in the darkness came into light. They fumbled for the duvet to cover their nakedness, but the surprise on their face was laid bared. “No wonder she wasn’t picking up”, he told himself and he went closer to the bed.

    “What is the meaning of this?” The female’s voice tried to bark. The male didn’t even talk; he concentrated on covering his todger with the sheet.

    “Kike, I’m so sorry; I thought it was Nike”, he stammered as he realized his goof. “I thought Nike was at home, I need to…"

    “You should be ashamed of yourself, Ike. Why are you still looking for her after what you asked her to do against her will? Threatening her throughout last night”, Kike, Nike’s roommate shouted at him.

    “I’m sorry”, he tried to explain, but she cut in and said, “Don’t be; she has been at the hospital down the street since morning, she should be through by now, so, I guess it is too late now, if you are even thinking of stopping her”! He didn’t bother to listen again; he dashed outside and started running towards the hospital. It is just a few houses down the street.

    She was just coming out of the hospital when he screeched right in front of her, with a smoke of dust everywhere. “How is my baby”? He asked her, gasping, holding her arms for support.

    “What baby?” She asked. “I just aborted it just like you instructed. You said you will never see me again if I didn’t”.

His hand slid slowly from her arm as he fell on his knees with both hands clamping his head. “Nooooooo”, he shouted, but she stood there, lost, but only he knows what just happened. The voice of the witch doctor rang in his ears again, “you need to stop her now before she aborts the pregnancy. If she did, you can never make it in life as a man, not in this world”!


picture copied from the internet

BEFORE YOUR MOMENT OF MADNESS (A short play)


SPEAKER: [walks to the lectern and swipes over the screen of his notepad. Clears throat and faces audience]: Did you hear that Bimpe is dead?

AUDIENCE: [shocked]: Haaaa!

SPEAKER: [unfazed]: Relax. That is not the only news I have for you.

AUDIENCE: [looked at each other]

SPEAKER: [clears throat again] Judging by your first reaction, I could deduce that you didn’t know that Akin didn’t graduate.

[A man stands up from the audience]: That is impossible; he was the best student in his department.
[The audience murmurs, knocking their foreheads at each other, transmitting both disbelief and surprise]


SPEAKER: [smiling. He raises his hand as a sign for them to stop murmuring while he swipes with the other. There came silence]: And lastly, I bring you the news that Blessing is in the hospital, in a coma.

A LADY:  [stands abruptly from the audience]: Why all these?

SPEAKER: Good question! [His face lights up in excitement] That is the reason we are all here. For the fact that these three were once part of our team [he pauses], I have no pity to give them over their present state, or predicament.

Wickedness!! Bad leader!!! [The audience passes various unpleasant judgments].

SPEAKER: [laughing like a mad scientist who just invested a virus. He gestured for them to cool down or sit down] What happened to these three once-wise-people with great potentials and hopes hung around their neck, could, or should I say will, happen to more of you soon!
[He started laughing again; that mad scientist’s kind of laughter. His voice reverberates through the speakers].

[By this time, the audience has started to rustle from seat to seat, some asking for permission to start trouble with the speaker while some were asking for calm. The speaker kept smiling, shaking his head. He leaned on the lectern with his elbow, watching the events bore before him. Several minutes later, there was calmness, and he was reluctantly urged to continue]

SPEAKER: I will ask for you to listen carefully while I speak, and no matter how you get angry while I do this, you must allow me finish, then you can start your troubles with me for rejoicing at the fall of some of our important members
[He pauses for their reaction, and they urge him to be quick and be short. He thanked them] …
Three weeks ago, when Blessing visited me at my office, right before she was plunged into  a vegetative state of coma by her loving husband[short laugh], I tried to advise her to seek a legal separation in her union with her husband whom apparently, was in the wrong profession. The husband currently works as a banker, but he could have been a successful boxer. Who knows, he if was only using Blessing as a boxing practice [he chuckled]? I said, she could have gotten him a punching bag as a birthday present instead of using herself for his punching practice. But instead, Blessing talked to me about how she was the one making him angry, and how she could still make it work. I laughed as usual and told her to her face that it is impossible to change a man. You can only change what is not embedded in a gene, and not how a man was created. Apparently, she was angry, because she sent me a text later in the day [he raises his tablet] about how I wasn’t married, and I cannot understand what love means. So, I shut my mouth, only to be called by the same husband that our dear Sister lies in expectation in the hospital. And while our stupid Sister decided against protecting herself from the abusive marriage through legal separation, the husband was wise enough to protect his own image. He said our sister fell from the stairs!

AUDIENCE: Ha! [There were murmurs of anger, grieves and many more].

SPEAKER: [Urges them to calm down by slapping his palm on the wooden lectern] silence please…please… [The noise faded out] Like I said, that is not all [clears his throat]. Akin, our bright young man who joined us after the seminar we held at the University of Lagos, is now a school dropout.

A MAN: [stands up abruptly] That is impossible!
[He looked around at the other audiences for their reaction before he continues]
He has only one year left. He wanted our help, and we contributed for his tuition fees right here!
[He shouted the last two words and slams his hand on the backrest of the seat in his front. The 'seater' looked back at him with annoyance and hissed. The audience starts to murmur again, but the speaker was full of smiles].

A LADY: Surely, our leader [she points to the speaker], didn’t give him the money!

[There were shouts of ‘yes’, ‘maybe’ and several others]

SPEAKER: [Not moved by their accusations, he calmly opened his clutch bag, and brings out two pieces of papers. He hands it to the usher beside him to pass it around for the audience to see].

USHER: [collects it, walks to the audience, and gave the papers to the first audience, who will glance through and pass it on to the next]

SPEAKER: That is the duplicate of the bank deposit slip we used in paying into Akin’s account, and the letter of acknowledgment and appreciation he sent after he confirmed the receipt of the aid.
[He bites his lower lip, nods to an imaginary melody only he could hear, and taps his lectern playfully like beating a drum. The usher returns the papers to him].
Thank you [he collects the slips]. So, I later found out that Akin was sick, and that sickness affected his brain and could no more think properly, so, he squandered his money!

AUDIENCE: [shows pity. Most of them shake their heads, or bites their fingers]

A MAN: But why did you still say you felt no pity for him? At least, if we may conclude that Blessing allowed her own predicament, what about poor Akin, who was struck by a disease?

SPEAKER: Good question. [He gets down from the podium, and moves towards the audience]. Akin didn’t get struck by a disease that he couldn’t control. His girlfriend gained an admission but couldn’t pay her tuition fees. So, our own great Akin decided to give her his own money with the hope of securing another one before the deadline. Well, it happened that he couldn’t make the deadline.

AUDIENCE: That is madness!

SPEAKER: [Laughs wickedly] Madness you say? But it is ‘love’, isn’t it? I bet he will be fulfilled seeing his girlfriend in school than himself. After all, he has he has tried as far as education is concerned. [He lets out a wicked chuckle again].

A LADY: That is craziness! How dumb of him! [The audience agreed]

SPEAKER: [hushes her] DO not say that. How could that can’t be craziness? He only helped a damsel in distress, just like we helped him raise the cash for his tuition fees. And I can tell you, unless the girl is crazy, she will get herself another man right in the school. I don’t think after she graduated, she will be glad to associate herself with a dropout! Especially [he pauses], a poor one like Akin! [He reverberates in his evil kind of laughter again]. It was solely on Akin, who wasn’t forced at gunpoint. It was his decision, and whatever the outcome, he should deal with it.  The same way I wish Bimpe will not be in hell for aborting for his boyfriend!

AUDIENCE: What?

A LADY: So, Bimpe died through abortion?

SPEAKER: Well, her friend said, and I quote, “her boyfriend said he wasn’t ready, so he begged her to abort it for them”. May her soul Rest In Peace, even though I knew her soul will be Reserved In Punishment!

AUDIENCE: Ha!!!

SPEAKER: [gets serious] Yes. May the guy live on, and enjoy his life in prosperity, in the bosoms of another woman. May Bimpe’s soul….well [he shrugs], who knows? I bet she will be regretting now, I bet she will have wished clocked were turned backwards, and she would have made the right decision of abstinence, or protecting herself. I know Akin will wish he was wise, and if…if…if only Blessing will come back alive from her coma, since the doctors say they are not sure, she would have wished she listened to my advice. She would have bought her husband a punching bag, or leave the abusive union.

I agree, Love exists, but it resides only with God [he raises his finger], and that has been proven over and over again. But you guys [he pointed to the audience and moves his hand from one end to another] will never learn.  You will continue to wallow in the dark outcome of this man-made love, which the wise has always wielded as a weapon against the fool. Now, who are the fools in these stories? And who will remain the fool after this story? The question will be answered in the end. You either be the wise one, or the idiot!

[With this, I walked back to the podium, packed my notes and my tablet, and I left through the door at the side of the stage]

CURTAIN DROPS, AND AUDIENCE REMAINS SILENT!

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

BELIEVE ME, YOU DON'T WANT TO FORCE A BLOWJOB

These pictures were taken from the Akomor P. Isaiah’s blog. A man reportedly took his girlfriend to his friend’s house in Lagos.
A few hours later, the lady ran out screaming for help, saying she had been raped. Few minutes later, the man, with blood all over his body, also ran out crying for help.
But when the man came out screaming, neighbours were shocked and that was when they realised that the girl bit off the man’s joystick and this was done with her teeth.
The man is still in the hospital.
                                    ****************************
Well, I can't quite say the story is a fake, but I guessed the story was a lie. This is what I guessed happened:
I think the guy always forced the girl for a blowjob at gun point. But today, he forgot his gun and the girl saved herself...lol
Morale? Don't force a blowjob.

Saturday, 13 June 2015

THE STORY OF A GHOST


THE STORY OF A GHOST

This is a sad story, the story of a man who died trying. This is a story if a man who wished he hadn't listened to the distant yearning of darkness. This is a true life story, and it was written by a ghost!

Life was very easy since I was eating from my mother's palm. Things have been very great, feeding fat on my mother's purse. Then there was a twist of event, a bad turnaround. Things were expected to turn, but I never knew it would be for the worse.

Months turned to years, and suddenly I was 33 years old, still eating from my mother's palm, and feeding fat on her purse. Not that I did not try, not that I was lazy. Not that I wasn't educated, it's just that things were determined to be foggy.

I tried my hands on some few odd jobs, I tried to be self-employed. I pinched my hopes with my hard work, but was humbled with failures and woes. Soon, I became depressed; I wished to be on my own. I hoped I had a job, so I could repay my mother's effort. 

I was a good a Christian. I believed in God. I refused all invitations to atrocities, but yet I felt forsaken. My faith in God dwindled, I think he was never alive. My trust in him petered away, eaten by my fruitless efforts.

My mates got married, living large in sins and glory. They got jobs and said my time will come, but it seems there was never a time.Years turned to more years, and soon its decade waved from afar. My wishes now took a new turn, and I wished I was never born. Depression slowly crept in, I took solace only in talking to myself. Suicidal thoughts become frequent, and I began to believe in its wise songs of freedom.

I have written many applications, attended interviews like they were rituals. I have read so many company's profiles that I can begin to tell you offhand. And yet God refused to listen, I felt my prayers were wasted. I believed he wasn't even looking at me, maybe his face has been covered by the thick clouds.

My girlfriend has left me, even though she said she was the problem. I knew the truth, she couldn't wait any more years, not after waiting for ten. We thought things would be better after I graduated and served. It got better for her, but not for me, and that was the beginning of the problems. At first she got pregnant, but went ahead to abort it. And when I asked why, she said, because I cannot afford it.

First she will miss my calls, and she will apologize. But soon she started to ignore them and told me she had only been busy. Then there was another guy, a working class and a friend. At first he was just her solace until he became the one she is willing to marry. Though she asked me to move on, and she even prayed that I find my kind. She said she is certain that with my efforts I will eventually make it in life. But my songs of hope cannot put food on the table, and my efforts cannot buy her clothes. My pleas to her seem like a madman, who believed that everyone else is mad!

So, I listened to my soul, and its yearnings to be free. And to suicide I gave my ears, and he rocked me to sleep with his sweet lullaby of freedom!

But now I wish I hadn't listened, I wish my faith was strong. I tried to break free from the rope I have slipped my head into, my life sliding freely into the great beyond. There is no breaking free, there is no escaping. There is no need to struggle, for I ensured the rope was tight enough.

Right in my face, suicide clapped and laughed. The devil wined and dined as I slowly gave up my breath. I thought about my mom and her endless advice. She asked me to be strong, a virtue I always boasted that I have. Now I realize that I am weak, I admit that I am a coward. I will leave my mom in an endless grieve, and I wished I had never done this.

Hell awaits my soul, and my troubles become in vain. And yes, I feel no more pain, but the horror will linger forever.

Right after I died, while my soul awaits its judgement, I stood right beside my dangling body, hanging lifelessly from the ceiling. Then the unexpected thing happened, a text came into my phone. They said I have been hired, and my appointment letter is up for me to grab!

What a waste!



I hope to pass this message, as I walked my lonely path to hell. Please ensure you never give up, for one day it will surely be good.

*picture from www.loverofsadness.net

Thursday, 11 June 2015

SOME FREE WRITING CONTESTS FOR YOU FROM NOW TILL JULY 2015

Hey, there!

Are you a writer like me who wishes to enter into some writing contests for free and still earn some prize? Then, today is your lucky day as I have made some research about some writing contests which could be entered regardless of your country. Here are some below:

1. L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future Contest

This is an opportunity for new and amateur writers of new short stories or novelettes of science fiction or fantasy. No entry fee is required. Entrants retain all publication rights. All awards are adjudicated by professional writers only. Prizes every three months: $1,000, $750, $500, Annual Grand Prize: $5,000 additional!

For more information, click on their official website here.


2. SLF Diverse Writers and Diverse Worlds Grants

The SLF offers two new diversity-centered grants: Diverse Writers and Diverse Worlds, both intended to foster the creation of speculative fiction work rich in diversity.
  1. The $500 Diverse Writers grant is intended to support new and emerging writers from underrepresented and underprivileged groups, such as writers of color, women, queer writers, disabled writers, working-class writers, etc. -- those whose marginalized identities may present additional obstacles in the writing / publishing process.
  2. The $500 Diverse Worlds grant is intended for work that best presents a diverse world, regardless of the writer’s background. Click here for more details from their official website.

3. The Eleanor Taylor Bland Crime Fiction Writers of Color Award

This is an annual grant of $1,500 for an emerging writer of color. An unpublished writer is said to be preferred, although, one published work will not disqualify an entrant. This grant is intended to support the recipient in activities related to crime fiction writing and career development. She or he may choose from activities that include workshops, seminars, conferences, and retreats; online courses; and research activities required for completion of the work. Kindly Click here for more information from the publisher's website.


4. THE WINTER TANGERINE AWARDS
As a quote on their website: We aim to honor new and emerging poets and prose writers who are creating electric work. Submissions will only be accepted from writers who have not yet published a novel or collection of any type. We aim to showcase writers based on the merit of their work, rather than the prestige behind their name, so submissions will be read entirely blind.

So, this is an opportunity for your work to speak for you. Check here for more information from their website.


So, guys, what are you waiting for? Let's test the waters right now.

*picture from simpson.edu







Wednesday, 10 June 2015

THE DARK WAY TO HEAVEN













Hands clamped, the journey is about to begin
There will be no way out, there will be no reparation
Focus set, this will journey is purely a sin
I looked in your eyes, it was filled with determination

Only you know the way, even though it’s your first time
You must guide me all the way, and ensure I stay on the wet part
Slowly and gently, you guided me through the wet narrow way
In a dark room, the pain you couldn’t sway away

You held me so close; your grip on me was tight
Your voice getting louder, even in the growing pain
Up and down we went, you know the way so well
The dark narrow path that leads to heaven will never take me to hell.


*this is a story of defloration.


A LETTER TO HALIE

a picture of HALiE, with my daughter

What shall I say about you? Should I write about your sexy figure, or the laurels of morals that shine around you? Shall I discuss about your large heart or the tendency to love those without a heart? Shall leave all that to talk about your bad side; that non existing part you never had?

I wonder how we got so close! To think we have never met is not even close. The love you have shown to me is inexplicably scary; and to realize you are far away is just twice as scary.

I could remember vividly how we collided with each… it was thru the funniest way. I thought it was just supposed to be a flair, so I could eat up my pizza and disappear with the air!

But I was so so wrong!

We became even more closer, so close we became brothers and sisters. You said you like to keep your virtue and like a big bros I agreed you shouldn’t be made a vacuum. Because you are not like most ladies…but most ladies will always strive to be like you. For most of them, being slutty is sexy, but your being sexy draws it’s essence from your decency!

Even with your angelic eyes, with high fashion-sense and the love for beauty, you never compromise on your high moral standards, nor got swept away in the buzzling air on the campus…

Fast forward, being way older than you, it is apparent I must become a father. So I picked on the most beautiful woman, the angelic queen who gave birth to your first true goddaughter. Who wouldn’t choose you? Who wouldn’t want you? Who wouldn’t pray that his daughter take after you? Aside her mom, who is also a woman of great morals, no one deserved to be a mother figure for the beautiful infant.

People say a lot of things, they said it’s impossible to be that close without any sexual intent, but I always make them realize this point, HALiE is a beauty without a stupid intent!

I can still rmember the names I used to call you? An angel with no wings; a witch with no evil heart. I used to call you ‘sky', the lady with the sexy eyes.

I really hope I can continue, but I must be able to write-on all day. But in all, I just want you to know, that I, with my lovely wife, is glad to have you as a godmother to our child!

God bless you. I wish you success!

Yours sincerely,
Dearest D

 
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