BLOOD ON THE ALTAR CHAPTER 3

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND COMMITMENT.
YOU CAN NOW PURCHASE BLOOD ON THE ALTAR BY CLICKING HERE
THANK YOU


Chapter 3


Blessing reminisced on her transit to Jos, after she agreed to leave town.
The transit to Jos was too silent for Blessing; all through the journey which she went alone, she held the picture of her dead lover in her hands, crying at every glitch that brought the cherished memories they shared. The last night they spent together- she could still remember her words:


“My dearest Blessing, this is all a plot; a plot to take you away from me. Those mothers were jealous of what we have achieved together- your lovely voice that I helped you develop and your quick ascent from the children’s Choir to the youth’s Choir. I want you to know that many of them have approached me to help them train their daughters in which I refused. Now, they wanted us out, and they wanted you out of their way too.”


That day, Blessing looked at her in admiration, hate, and pity. She knew it was all an excuse and a lie; she truly abused all those children like she had abused her. Though, the credit belongs to her lover for ensuring that she got promoted to the youth choir after just three years in the children choir- an impossible feat! If not for the whole circumstance, Sister Mary already promised her a place at the senior choir even when she was clearly underage to even be in the Youth choir.


"Promise me, promise me my love that you will remember me always, and you will fight for me. Your mother will take you away tomorrow, but promise me that I will remain in your heart.” She requested of Blessing, something she would have done even without her request.


She also made her promise that she will not allow anybody to attain that position of a Choir Mistress, because in her words, “it is my right. They never wanted me to have it, but you must have it if I couldn’t. I used all my strength, might, time and resources to assist the Choir. Now, they wanted to reap where they did not sow and enjoy the fruit of my labour.”


She watched her lover stood up, paced the room like a damsel in distress, unsure where turn for help.  Blessing stood up and walked over to her, as small as she was in frame, she held her close and assured her that she will do everything to ensure that her cause was justified and duly fought for by her.


“No one will attain that position!” Blessing promised.


Sister Mary kissed her, and it was a great kiss that was shared between them. She couldn’t have explained why that particular kiss has remained something to covet. But, she believed, maybe the salty taste from the tears on their lips added salt for a taste, to the whole kissing process.


She hid the picture perfectly in her bag as she alighted from the bus into the waiting arms of her Aunt who saw her as a victim of rape and injustice, much to her disgust. Her mother had sold her Aunt the story of how she was raped by Sister Mary.


She was angry- she believed that her lover was killed; she was murdered by the jealous mothers who pushed her to suicide. Her lover was denied justice; justice to fair hearing. Her lover was taken away from her when she was about to enjoy her more. And here they all are, treating her dead lover with such disrespect, tagging her as a rapist!  She promised to avenge her death, and revenge she must take, even if it takes the whole time of her life. In her mind, she knew she was never a victim of rape, but of injustice. Yet, no one seemed to understand this. She was looking forward to going back to her home town, going back to that church to take back what is theirs!


Her aunt welcomed her to the dining the evening she landed in Jos, but she couldn’t taste out of the food. That evening, her appetite was not only lost, it simply didn’t exist. Her Aunt wondered and asked her why she didn’t touch the food,


“I am not hungry,” that was her response.


But even so, her eyes couldn’t resist the neatly placed cucumbers in the bowl, out of the many fruits in the large bowl placed on the dining table. She was already salivating; not from her mouth, but between her legs. Cucumbers were her favourite. Her Aunt, having noticed her attraction to the fruits, invited her to take one and eat; an invitation she couldn’t resist. She took one and excused herself to retreat inside and eat it.


That day, she remembered how she couldn’t wait to get inside her room before she pulled up her skirt and pulled down her pants. She ran into the toilet and sat on the toilet seat with legs professionally spread. With a quick movement, she spit in her palms and bathed the cucumber with it. She rubbed it gently, more like caressing. But it wasn’t slippery enough for her; so, she forced out phlegm and rubbed it on the cucumber. That felt better- Sister Mary taught her nice!


She balanced herself nicely on the toilet seat with one hand, and with the other she gently pushed in the improvised todger gently into the wet throbbing hole between her open legs. She almost died of an unending sensation that rushed up and jumped down her spine. She moaned gently as the abyss between her legs almost swallowed up the whole big, long fruit.


She held it in place and clamped her thighs together. She raised her head gently, absorbing the pleasure with a sizzling sound between her clenched teeth. Then she started to thrust, gently at first, and faster- uncontrollably. When the sensation was too much, she held the fruit with both hands and smashed it in and out with ferocious strength. Her eyes wide shut, her voice got louder; something she tried to control but for reasons unknown to her, she couldn’t. She shook her head frantically like a reggae artist and pounded the toilet seat with her butt like a rock star as her hands did the magic!


She rose to the skies and aimed to for the heavens. She pounded ferociously and without care. Her voice was louder and her moans were darker and deeper. Then, suddenly, almost when she was closer to the heavens, she reached orgasm and touched down from her flight to the skies. She was tired, and she felt dead. She finished whatever she was doing and opened her eyes to the horror of her life, panting heavily with eyes half-shut like a junkie- her Aunt stood right at the entrance of the toilet, looking at her.
Slowly, she removed the cucumber and lowered her head in shame.


“Blessing, what are you doing?” Her Aunt asked, half smiling.


“I’m…I’m sorry,” she said, and slowly covered her shame.


“Are you, now?” Her aunt asked.
Blessing nodded, but her Aunt continued,


“I mean you are doing it wrong; you may hurt yourself with such fierce movements.”


“Aunty, I was trying to kill an insect that entered while I was…”


Her Aunt’s laughter cut into her stupid excuse like a wildfire, and it burnt the excuse away from her mind almost immediately. She realized she has been very stupid to even try to say that, but she must reiterate her lie until it is being accepted as the truth; both by her and whoever who cared to listen. Sister Mary thought her to always stand by her lies even when threatened with a gun.


“It is true, Ma’am. I was trying to kill a fly.” She insisted.


“Of course I know.” Her Aunt said. “It might interest you to know that it happens a lot to me too, but I don’t kill it like that way. I mean I have, but I landed in the hospital because I ended up hurting my precious pot. You see,” she continued, much to Blessing’s confusion, “I have to teach you how to do this, because there are lots of flies around here, and occasionally, they will definitely find their way back in.” She smiled to see Blessing’s reaction which was already lost in the wastelands.


“But…” Blessing tried to say something, but words weren’t coming.


The Aunt only smiled and asked her to proceed to the bedroom. She did, reluctantly, not sure of what was happening, but sure she can’t resist her Aunt’s directive which was more like an order. Aunty Rosaline led her gently to the bedroom and laid her bare on her back. She wasn’t scared, this is not new to her; she had Sister Mary, who was even older than her aunt who was the last born of her grandmother.



“Now, let me show you,” her Aunt took the fruit from her, and like Sister Mary had taught her, she spat on it and caressed it gently as she ensures all areas were well covered- wet.



Due to her loyalty to her dead lover, she couldn’t bring herself to agree that it was better. But it didn’t really get better until her Aunt decided to use her tongue on her clitoris. It was a new feeling; something she has never experienced during all the times she thought she was having explosive experience with Sister Mary. This time, she could swear she was dead for a long time, only to feel alive again.



                   ******************


Her vagina throbbed and twitched at the thought of her Aunt; she was a real bitch. She was an expert, and she taught her more. Of course, the Aunt didn’t have to worry about her conscience for exposing her niece to unspeakable sexual desires; transforming her into her sex machine- she loved every bit of it. She was being treated right and she enjoyed her time in Jos.



She recollected that two weeks after her arrival to Jos, her mom called to asked if she was ready to come home, Blessing requested to continue her studies while staying with her Aunt; something her mom was so glad of and even thanking God because it will remove her from the negative attention Sister May has dragged her into. And so, she had stayed with her Aunt for years till she was done with her college and her University education. She returned to town few months after her mom died, and back to the church, back to the choir, just in time to see Sister joy, the prostitute, leave the church in shame!



                 *****************



After she was done reminiscing, she was ready to switch on her phone and continue with the plan. She switched it on and tucked away Sister’s Mary’s picture- the same which has brought past memories. She has already embarked on the revenge mission. Not that this was her first mission, she already ousted two potential Choir Mistresses before she took over as the vocal leader  after she came back to town four years ago.



By the time she came back to town after graduating from the University of Jos, she met a Choir Mistress, Sister Joy. She was so good that the Church was considering sponsoring her studio session. But one day, a man came forward and gave his life to Christ, and confessed that the Choir Mistress was a prostitute right in front of the whole congregation. He claimed he was a regular customer of Sister Joy, and it will be bad of him not to confess this, after he gave his life to Christ. Like he said, he couldn’t take it again, seeing Sister Joy lead the praise and worship for the same God who showed him salvation.



Sister Joy collapsed right on the podium, and she was rushed to the hospital. Legend has it that she disappeared right from the hospital bed, and she was never seen again. Blessing believed Sister Joy should have known better than to sell her services to a Church member.



For fear of another scandal from the ladies, the Pastor saw it wise to use a male Coordinator as the head of the choir, and a female vocal leader instead of a Choir Mistress; since the office of the Choir Mistress appeared to be cursed. Brother Ade was the second Coordinator after the first got married and left the Church. So far so good, male Coordinators have proven to be effective.



Sister Ruth, the first female vocal leader to assist a male Coordinator was later suspended after being involved with another scandal, and Blessing, her assistant was made the vocal leader immediately another Pastor took over from the Pastor who was transferred for ineptitude. The new Pastor decided to stick with the trick of a female vocal leader and a male Coordinator. This didn’t go well with Blessing who wanted the post of the choir mistress to be thrown open- a position seen as the bequest of her dead lover!



No one knew what scandal Blessing had been in before her sudden reappearance. She spent almost ten years in Jos, and the Church was just getting back to her feet after scandals upon scandals have scattered the flock. But when she was back, she realised that the position of the choir mistress had never been opened, and she promised to continue the fight on behalf of Sister Mary who was cheated of that position, ten years ago!



Her phone rang, and she picked it up;
“I am at home,” she replied the caller.
It was Emeka, her first male sexual partner. She used to call him her toy soldier. He was an ex to Sister Ruth, the vocal leader who succeeded Sister Joy, the prostitute. Emeka wanted to come over, and Blessing surely has another work for him.



The process to end the Coordinator’s reign has been set in motion; the Coordinator must be ousted!

Read More

BLOOD ON THE ALTAR CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2 

It was all a plan, she didn’t have anything to tell the Coordinator; it was the just beginning of her grand plan to oust Sister Hannah, the newly promoted sweet voice who was beginning to garner followers. During the weekday’s rehearsal, the Coordinator has suggested that Hannah be given a chance to break forth and lead the praise and worship session. This didn’t go well with Blessing who sees the whole podium as her throne. The sight of the congregation, marvelling under her voice as she delivered the praise and worship, is always enough for her to reach orgasm without sexual contact.
“You called yesterday that you wanted to tell me something important,” the Coordinator asked after the service, “but you didn’t come to see me about it again.”



“Yes, I know.” She scratches her head; displacing her scarf. “I just felt it wasn’t necessary anymore.”



“Why would you say that? You said it was for the integrity of the Choir. Anything that concerns the Choir is of great importance.” The Coordinator stroked.



“I know. And I’m sure you know I don’t joke with matters concerning the survival of the Choir, it’s just that…”



“It’s nothing, Sister Blessing. Go on, tell me anything.” The Coordinator insisted.
He touched Blessing gently on her arm and their eyes met, and that was the exact position Blessing wanted to have him, and he fits right into the snare. Blessing moved a bit closer to him.



“Sir,” She started slowly, “why did you allow Sister Hannah to lead the special number today? She is still new, and no one knows a thing about her.” She went straight to point.



The Coordinator was taken aback by the question. He didn’t expect that to be her problem.



“I don’t get it.” He snapped at her, taking away his hand. “How is that a problem? You have been the only one good enough to render the session with such fluidity until the Lord sent a gift in Sister Hannah. This is someone I thought you will be glad to groom; but here you are, worrying yourself about her as if she didn’t deliver anything near perfect. In fact, her performance was impeccable. And for your information, the Pastor is interested in her, just as I am. I mean, she is being considered as your new assistant.” He finished, panting, perspiring.



He wiped his face with an already dirty white handkerchief. He was definitely angry, but that doesn’t concern Blessing whose plan was still on course. She smiled and asked to be forgiven and excused.



“See, Blessing,” the Coordinator started, having being knocked out by her silence and piercing eyes, “I know you are worried about Hannah, but you don’t have to be worri…”



“Brother Ade, please don’t create the wrong impression here!” She cuts in sharply and disconnects the respect of calling him the usual Coordinator. “I am not even worried about her taking over because I know you are already grooming her for that.”



The Coordinator was taken aback by her confrontation. He stood still, arm in arm, as she watched Blessing with great negative astonishment.



“Where did you hear these fallacies from, Sister Blessing?”



“Like I said, I am not worried about that, even if it were to be true!” She said, opening one of her palms in his front and standing half-akimbo with the other.



“That is not true!” The Coordinator shouted back. “What is the meaning of all these?”



“Oho,” she said, “Now, you want to deny? Yet, Sister Hannah visits your music school frequently. There is even a rumoured that you are helping in training her voice with the piano.” She laughed sarcastically, clapping her hands as she laughed.



“That is not a rumour; that is the truth!” The Coordinator fired back. “And I don’t care whether you believe it or not. Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to fight her progress?”



“Her progress, you say? Are you serious about that? Because only God knows what you always do with her after your purported practice.”




“What?” The Coordinator was left to gape, “What are you insinuating?” He shouted.



“Yes,” you can tell everybody that I said that. And that is exactly what I am worried about. Don’t forget, I was once your student too, and the stories I hear about… about Hannah or what is her name, is nothing but a heartburn because it will be a bad thing for both the image of this Church and the Choir to be dragged in the mud because of some set of sex-starved individuals who couldn’t afford to hold off their..”




“Enough!” The Coordinator shouted her down. “This is getting too much; the Pastor may have to hear about this. I have always wondered why those who have the gift to ascend to greater heights in this Choir always seems to either quit mysteriously or step down without reason.”



“Oh, now it is me, right?” She laughed and clapped her hands three times.



“Who knows? It might just be that,”Brother Ade concluded with opened palms.



Blessing smiled; she stood akimbo with both hands now. She was looking down, shaking one of her legs. Her plan has been perfect; working exactly how she planned it. She wanted the Pastor to know. She must accuse and provoke him until he takes his folly to the Pastor.



“Sister Blessing,” the Coordinator started calmly, “you need to calm down. Things will go fine; you might even get to like Sister Hannah as your own Sister.”



“God forbid!” she snapped her fingers backward over her head. “I only want you to think it through before enforcing your candidate on the Church. But as usual, you,” she said, pointing to the Coordinator’s nose, “always choose your dick,” she pointed to his trouser, “over your brain!” She concluded, tapping her forehead with her forefinger.



The Coordinator stood right there, transfixed by her behaviour. He unfolded his arms and swallowed the saliva that was about dripping. Blessing hissed, turned around and went her way; swaggering in grace and mercy as she dragged her elegant body along. She was confident of her beautiful stature.



The Coordinator, having diffused the sudden surprise that left him petrified, finally got the strength to move from the sudden state of paralysis. He reached out straight into his pocket and brought out his mobile phone. He dialled a number and waited for the recipient to pick. The phone rang out. He hissed and tried again—and again, until a husky baritone voice came through.



“Pastor, we need to talk; it is very serious. This is a very sensitive and an urgent matter. I have reasons to believe that Sister Blessing is running mad!”




                                                      *****************



Blessing got to her apartment- a fulfilled lady, glad and happy. There’s no other thing a man, sorry, a woman, rather, would have wanted than seeing her plans comes to fruition. She switched off her phone, knowing quite well that the Church might want to contact her. She was certain that the Coordinator would have reported her to the Pastor; something she wanted him to do. That was the reason why she had to provoke him and accuse him, or maybe it’s not really an accusation. She brought out a picture from her wardrobe and looked at it with all the admirations her emotions could produce. She was her godmother, Sister Mary, her Church-mother.



The position of the Choir Mistress has been vacant for years, ever since the new Pastor was forced to place a ban on that position because of the evil that the position has always managed to attract. In short, the office of the Choir Mistress has been nothing but a disaster.



The last Choir Mistress, Sister Joy was a prostitute. The Church got to know, and the rest was history. That happened some months after Blessing returned to Church. Before then, she has been forced to leave the Church on a self-imposed exile, in a faraway land. But this Church has always been her Church, and no one will come out of nowhere and take away that position if it were to be reconsidered vacant. In fact, she was sure that with her new plan, the position of the Choir mistress will be opened for vacancy soon.



She reminisced about why she left the church in the first place, and that brought about the story of Sister Mary- the vocal leader before Sister joy, the purported prostitute.



Sister Mary was not yet anointed as the Choir Mistress; she was just a vocal leader back then, but she has already been nominated for the office by the Church management. Sister Mary was just a fresh graduate then, with a good job at twenty-four years of age. With this, was able to spoil Blessing with gifts right from when she was just 9 years old.



Blessing’s mother will allow her daughter to sleep over at Sister Mary’s place for weeks. Sister Mary will drop her in school and pick her up with her car; she will even take her to Choir practice and every other place which other girls of her age could only dream of. And at times, mostly in the night, she will do some things to her that makes her body twitch and vibrate. She didn’t understand it, but she went on to love it.



When she was 11 years old, Sister Mary got crueller. One night, while they were doing that same thing they loved to do almost every night, her Church-mother, Sister Mary, suddenly graduated from the usual gentle stroking of her clitoris to puncturing her hymen.



She shouted, but Sister Mary covered her mouth in kisses in which she responded nicely with moans and curling of her waist. It was painful, but only for that period.



Surprisingly; it became more pleasurable to her as time went by. Since her narrow way became readily opened after the defloration, her church-mother always loved to throw in her whole fist into her honey pot, as Sister Mary has insisted they call it, out of respect. Every night, they got closer, and they became lovers.



By the time she was 14 years old, Sister Mary had introduced her to many sex toys, and her favourite was the Latigo leather harness- a strap-on Sister Mary always wore to have sex with her as a man would. Sister Mary likes to go hard, as she loved to say it, rough and deep. Something that was painful, yet, inexplicably pleasurable to Blessing. This didn’t stop there; they got so bad that one would think they were vegetarian when you open their fridge which was always packed with fruits of unusual shapes and sizes. They are mostly long and curvy; usually big plantains and cucumbers!



But one day, the whole story changed when Sister Mary cheated severally on her with a new girl in the neighbourhood! When the mother of the little girl found out, hell was let loose. At first, Blessing didn’t know this, until she noticed that her dear Mary was always down whenever she got back from work. Though, after much pleading, the mother of the victim promised to forgive the beautiful Sister Mary, who was just about to be confirmed as the choir mistress.




 But it was all a lie. While rendering the special number during a lovely Sunday service, the mother of the nine years old girl stormed the Church and embarrassed the beautiful Mary while on the podium- the day she was to be confirmed as the Choir mistress! Blessing couldn’t believe her eyes; Sister Mary has betrayed her, but she was ready to forgive her anyways.



The Sunday service was short and quick. Sister Mary denied the allegation even though the poor girl insisted she did some things to her. That same day, when they got home, Sister Mary has asked for her forgiveness, and she didn’t have a choice than to forgive her. She was the only thing she knew, and she was emotionally sentenced to life imprisonment with her.




By the third day, things got worse as many revelations started to unfold, and the heat was just too much. Sister Mary turned out to be a serial sexual abuser as more parents threatened their daughters and many of them fessed up. Without exaggeration, Blessing was sure that Sister Mary could give an accurate description of the clitorises and wet-holes of almost half of the female Church members between the ages of 6 and 13!




After the revelation, Blessing’s mom called and asked her to start packing her things as she will be coming over to yank her off from her better half. Blessing told Sister Mary that her mother was coming the next day to take her home, and they both cried all through the night and made love like a wild dog and a shameless bitch would. Blessing could swear that that was the best she ever had- and maybe it was.
Her mom came very early the next day; she didn’t even return Sister Mary’s pleasantries. She was just concerned about taking her daughter away from the child-abuser. Blessing believed her mom was at loss of words to describe Sister Mary, so she resolved to occasional resentful glances at her, hissing, clapping of hands three times at intervals, mostly after a heavy sigh, and throwing of disgustful looks at her lover. Blessing didn’t like this, but nevertheless, she packed her things in silence, silently sobbing, but careful not to overreact.




As she and her mother closed the door behind them, she could hear Sister Mary wail in a loud voice. Blessing halted and wanted to go back. Her vagina throbbed and she wetted herself without a touch from her lover. Hearing her cry sufficed. Her mother cursed the wailing Mary silently and pushed her daughter away from the doorstep before she could contemplate on going back.




While inside the cab that was taking them home, her mom had insisted on knowing the truth that she never really wanted to know in the first place. Her Mom asked,


“Please Blessing, my daughter; tell me you weren’t involved with that devil. Tell me she didn’t do to you, what all the mothers claimed she did to her children. Please, tell me she just likes you and was only taking care of you as a sister.”



Well, that was what she got, because Blessing told her mom exactly what she wanted to hear-



“Mommy, I was not involved with that devil, she didn’t do to me, any of the things the mothers of those children said she did! And yes, she was merely taking care of me like a sister!”



“Thank God,” her Mom assured herself and Blessing just looked away, out of the car window.



Her mind was with her lover, not even in the cab with her mom. She cried inside, wishing Sister Mary hasn’t made the mistake that caused their untimely separation.




Two weeks later, she started preparing to leave town to her Aunt’s place in Jos, where she will lay low till the whole issue cooled down. It was her mom’s idea. There was no need to resist; people have started talking about them, and it wasn’t pleasant. They were not really bothered about their love-life as lesbians, but they believed that they were accomplices; defiling both infants and adolescents altogether.




That wasn’t the only reason she must leave the town; she technically has no business staying again since Sister Mary has decided to take her own life after the trouble heightened and legal actions started to peep into the whole simple issue. She left a suicide note and lied she was wrongly accused; she even said Blessing was a living witness to her holy life, that she was never involved with another woman!



But that made matters worse for Blessing. People kept asking Blessing if it were true that Sister Mary was clean; if it were true that they were not lovers, or they were accomplices. Some mothers started sending in notes and texts- they begged her to take her life so as to join her lover in hell, so that the female infants in the neighbourhood may grow up without being contaminated with her sexual abuse before they could learn to spell the letter ‘F’. So, she had no choice, she agreed to leave the town.



I mean, who wouldn’t?

END OF CHAPTER 2

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND COMMITMENT.
YOU CAN NOW PURCHASE BLOOD ON THE ALTAR BY CLICKING HERE

THANK YOU

FOLLOW KINGwax Oluwadamilare on:

twitter: @acme_success
Facebook: kingwax.oluwadamilare.5
Google+: acmesuccess007
Skype: acmesuccess007
WhatsApp: +2347035593128
Email: KINGwax.Oluwadamilare@gmail.com

Thank u

Read More

BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (CHAPTER ONE)

This novel is the sole property of wale-joseoh oludare (KINGwax Oluwadamilare).

All right reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system of any kind, sold, rewritten, printed/photocopied,  recorded or published online or traditionally without the prior licence and authority of the author- KINGwax oluwadamilare

07035593128
kingwax.oluwadamilare@gmail.com

                  **************

BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (the poem)

The whole congregation waits in anticipation
Sister Blessing will soon mount the podium
She will render the special dedication
Her voice will intoxicate them like the opium

Oh, sister Blessing
She is just like watching the angels sing
Oh, what a Blessing
There is none other like her our eyes have seen

The Church’s microphone must feel no other hand
The speakers must convey no other voice
The podium must feel no other dance steps
Except our own sister Blessing’s

No other Sister will love to try
Because they will never be good enough
Once sister Blessing is ready to drag
They will be left without a scent of pride

She murders their character
She destroys their self-esteem
She cares not what happens after
She must remain the only fish in the stream

Even with their over bloated anointing
The Pastors have refused to see
Even with their vague holy life
The elders have refused to notice

Blood cries from the altar
From the podium where sister Blessing loves to sing
Dead ambitions, assassinated characters


All scream with their talents in her grip

All hail Sister Blessing
The Angel is ready to sing
And bloods cry from the altar
But no one is ready to listen

                         PROLOGUE

April, 1965

Beside the historic museum on Helm’s street lay a thick bushy virgin land. Crowds gather on the street while an old woman wailed in agony. Her husband and three children have been killed right on the land which belongs to them, the same which shared a fenced boundary with the museum.

Rumours have it that this dead man gave his friend the documents to the land to help him transact with a potential buyer, but this friend sold this land and gave the owner and his family, stipend. Then, there was trouble as the owner was said to have rejected the money offered and asked for his land back. His friend asked them to meet on the land so he can meet face to face with the buyer and settle the matter, but it was an ambush, as the man was killed right there with his three sons that accompanied him.

This woman wailed, but there was no evidence that his husband’s friend killed her family. Thus, she has no helper, no justice.

Chapter 1

FIFTY YEARS LATER

Blessing decided to check herself once again in her half-broken wall mirror that was leaning on the wall at the corner of her room. She touched her head-tie in many places, turning her head side by side as she did so, admiring herself in her broken mirror. The dress on her looked like her skin in its fitness and its light colour that matched her light skin. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that she was a beauty!

She reminisced about last week; last week was awesome, she had tested her popularity and it worked just fine. This is what happened….

A WEEK AGO

After the usual morning rehearsal on Sunday, Blessing left without informing anybody. Few minutes to worship time, the Choir Coordinator called her to ask why she wasn’t in the Church after the morning rehearsal;

“I’m on my period,” she lied.

“What? So, who will lead the praise and worship?” The Coordinator asked, more in the horror of no one to lead properly if she didn’t. Besides, she was the vocal leader.

“I don’t know,” she replied; “you have Sister Hannah, who has proven to be better than I am.” She tried to ask for his view indirectly.

“Ha, Sister Blessing, don’t say that; Sister Hannah is a new member and you know this. She couldn’t have been able to do it better like the Pastor wanted and the congregation might not feel the presence of God as you used to bring it down.”

“But, the Pastor already said that anyone on her period may sit with the congregation and not bother to minister.” She teased further.

“See, Blessing,” he removed the religious formality, “let this stay between you and I, you are not on your menses. Have you told anyone?”

“No, I haven’t.” She answered him, giving him the perfect answer. She giggled inaudibly and bit her lower lip.

“Good, I will try and stall the worship till you come back. How long will it…”

“Ten minutes,” she cuts in excitedly. She was sure the Church couldn’t do without her.

“Are you sure? Because your house is rather far and…”

“I will take the bike,” she explained better, since ten minutes was rather too small a time frame, if the distance from her house to the Church ever mattered. But only Blessing knew she wasn’t even at her own apartment.

“Thank you. Please don’t disappoint us, Sister Blessing,” the Coordinator begged.

“I won’t disappoint Sir,” she said and disconnected.

She dropped the phone and plunged herself into a resounding laughter. The truth was that, she has been feeling threatened by the presence of Hannah, the new girl who just got promoted to the senior choir. And she feared that Hannah already got the attention of the Choir Coordinator who always urged her to practice more, so that she could fill the void Sister Blessing might create in the future. This didn’t go down well with Sister blessing who wasn’t even ready to step aside; not when she hasn’t reached her goal.

“So, you are going back to Church?” Emeka asked.

“The Church needs me. The Coordinator just called me now. She wants me back in the Church.” She replied while putting on her skirt.

“But, I need you more.” Emeka responded, he stood up and caressed her as he held her close to himself. She shrugged him off.

“We will see later.” She started to wear her pink Choir uniform. “I am not supposed to be here in the first place. I just wanted to see their reaction if I skipped the worship session.”

Emeka, a cultist, who didn’t care about her commitment to Church, wasn’t ready to let go without a fight. “You are going to leave me after just two rounds of sex?” He asked as if two rounds were a joke.

Blessing flashed him a contentious look and hissed. She finished dressing and said goodbye. Emeka wouldn’t let her go until she agreed to a French kiss. She obliged. Minutes later, she was on the bike to the church, even though Emeka’s house was a trek-able distance to Church. She landed right into the hands of the worried Coordinator who hurried her through the back door.

She appeared just like that on the altar- she was right on the time. The rest was history as she took the stage by storm in her usual way. Angels came down and the glory of God was all over the congregation. People danced and rejoiced, and the Pastor kept giving her a thumbs-up as the praise and worship went up to the stars.

           **************************

That was last week; this morning, she hummed rock of ages to herself as she prepared for the Sunday morning rehearsal. It is a usual tradition in her church- every choir must be at the morning rehearsals by seven in the morning. As she grabbed her bible as the final part of her readiness, Emeka came in naked; he had rushed to the toilet after the last round of their usual sexual escapade.

“Are you dressed already?” He asked as if he didn’t see she was dressed already. He sat on her bed, wearing a disappointed look.

“Yes, Emeka; I want to be in Church before the morning rehearsals. I have something I need to discuss with the Coordinator.” She replied as she prepared to leave.

“This is not acceptable,” Emeka muttered. Blessing didn’t bother to reply; she already knew where he was heading.  “Why do you always confine me to just two rounds of the sex?”

She didn’t bother to reply him. She grabbed her bible and announced her exit. Emeka shook his head at her silence, took his trousers from the floor where he had thrown it, dipped his hands in its pocket and gave her the transport fare.  “I will wait till you’re back,” he said.

“You can’t wait; not here, not in my apartment!” She fired back, firmly.

“Is this because of the house fellowship?” Emeka asked.

“Yes, because of that; and because I couldn’t afford to be mentioned as part of the workers of Christ who allows a man to sleep over at her place or who sleeps over in a man’s place.”

“But, you are my girlfriend.” He snickered.

“That is even worse. Leave my key where I usually put it, and leave on time. I am the next host for the house fellowship, and I don’t want any problem. I am Sister Blessing, the perfect example to the younger ones; okay?”

Emeka starred at her in disbelief. “If you are the only Christian alive, and a perfect example of one, then I will rather be a pagan.”

“Good for you.” She answered without any worry. “It doesn’t really appear you are different to a pagan. Please, don’t let me meet you here.” She reiterated her instruction.

“So,” Emeka fluttered, “are you coming back after the rehearsal?”

Blessing looked at him, lost for words.
“I mean, just like last week. Last week was…”

“No!” She shouted him down. “I am not coming back. I thought I told you last week why I left. Please, don’t forget…”

“To close the door and leave- I get it.” Sullen Emeka interjected.

“Good.” She slammed the door after herself and went her way.

Emeka shook his head and prepared to leave. He scoffed at Sister Blessing’s statement as it crossed his mind again;
“Perfect Christian indeed.” He muttered with a frown.

A thought came to his mind and he was too quick to reject it.

“God forbid,” he said, snapping his fingers in quick backward movements above his head. Nobody knew what the thought was, but maybe the thought was a question that asked,

“What you will do if God says that Blessing is your divine wife?”


THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND COMMITMENT.
YOU CAN NOW PURCHASE BLOOD ON THE ALTAR BY CLICKING HERE

THANK YOU

End of chapter 1.

Kindly follow by entering your email at the top right corner to receive subsequent chapters as soon as they are posted or check here regularly for update.

Thank you.

Read More

OLUDARE

Rephrasing Renee K's words,

"I guess the line between fiction and a lie is very thin".

Oludare, a young man, who has been trying to make a living through his writing talent, mulled over this as he sat with his notebook and a pen, waiting for inspiration -willing to write.

He looked at the bible on the table and then the cheap loud-ticking clock and remembered that in an hour’s time he was due to be in church for the evening’s bible study.

Oludare had been born and bred a Christian and, being an avid church goer, he struggled with the thought that what he was about to do was to “sell a lie.”

After the death of his parents, he come to live with his grandma who made sure that his food and drink were lectures of morality and from the moment she noticed that he had an interest in writing fiction was uncomfortable with the concept.


"Did you know any actors?" His grandma once asked.


"Yes, ma'am." Oludare answered. "Anorld." He said.


"Well, I don't know any Anorld, but I am sure that he would have been said to be dead in one movie and still appear in another, right?"


He nodded reluctantly. "It's just a movie."


"No, it's just a lie. If they try to tell us he is dead, then he should stay dead!"


"It is a profession, mama."


"And what do you think of that profession, assuming we just have to believe it is a profession?"


"I think its okay, grandma." Oludare had replied innocently, between mouthfuls of the scant meal he had no choice but to eat. Things were hard but he  had to live .


Smiling, his grandmother reached for her tattered bible. She was an illiterate but knew the holy book from cover to cover. Now Oludare knew he was in for a long session of preaching!



"My son, let me tell you this, the bible says that no liar will see the kingdom of God." She waved the bible in his face and Oludare swallowed hard.


"But..."


"There is no 'but', my son. These actors and writers of fiction are definitely going to hell!" She sounded convincing.


"But, mama, these people are just..."


"They are just telling lies and acting it. Actors pretend to become what they aren't just to make money! The Bible says that money is the root of all evil. My son, you cannot start writing lies and selling them. Just because the devil painted it as a fiction does not make it right. You are just selling your soul to the devil and the Bible says that the devil is the father of lies!'



"But, Jesus also spoke in parables, mama." Oludare protested; an action he regretted later. "Those parables are not real occurrences, mama, they are fiction like..."



The rest was history. His grandma didn't wait to hear the rest of what she considered his blasphemy. He was dragged to church and made to go through deliverance sessions for being possessed by demons. Those were nothing if he had to recollect the being brainwashed with lectures every minute of the day!



"There are other things you can do with your talent, son." The Reverend advised after weeks of deliverance sessions, fasting and lectures.


"Like what, Sir?" He asked.


"You can join the evangelism team and win souls for Christ."


Oludare had no choice so he didn’t resist. He was weak from fasting and his figure was frail, he knew now it was better not to argue again with the Reverend.



Loudly the table clock struck the hour and his mind jumped back from his memories. It was time for Bible study but Oludare was torn between his writing and attending the church program. What a dilemma he was in.



Then his phone rang- it was the Reverend. He watched it ring again and again. At last it was still - until the text arrived.


"Brother Oludare, you are needed at the church for the church service. Please, be on time."


Oludare knew what the Reverend meant by those words for, after the death of his grandma, he had been absorbed by the church and now it was his only life. He had never had a formal education and though his reading and writing skills were adequate, they were not sufficient to qualify him to study in a college.



Life was very hard for him because of his lack of skills. He had only ever had menial jobs which demeaned him and made him feel useless. Since being sacked from his last job he considered himself a failure and had reached the stage of poverty whereby he only ate if he was given a penny by a church member. No, however his instincts were gearing up for survival and he needed to act.



His phone rang again, and in anger, he watched it ring out.


"I have had enough!" He told himself. "God didn't give me this gift for nothing."



On impulse he picked up his pen and wrote the first line in his notebook. It was his first attempt as before he had only written in his mind about the sorrow and pain he had suffered and now he started to set it down.


When he read what he had written, he smiled and read it aloud:


"In the end, when everything else fails, your talents will ride on the back of your little education and take you to your destination."



He felt good. And when his phone rang again for the umpteenth time, he pressed hard on the red button to switch it off. Then he settled  himself in
his chair and started to write.


“Once upon a time there lived a man so poor that he did not know how to make a dime even though he had many talents…….”


Edited by Lyn Dickason.
Written by KINGwax Oluwadamilare

Please follow KINGwax on:

Twitter: @acme_success

Facebook: KINGwax.Oluwadamilare.5

Skype: acmesuccess007

Gmail: acmesuccess007

Read More

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Sometimes, we look at our lives in relation to success and we wondered if actually this is us. As funny as that may sound, sometimes, you look at your age and you are like, ‘this is it- I have failed!’

While growing up, we were laced with so much potential that we brag about it, we walked around with a strong aura that says we’re just gonna be among the first to make it. But hey, looking at those who you even think will never have a shot at it; you just don’t want to think any more about it because your current situation says you’re useless! And thinking about it sometimes suggests suicide as a way out!

Oh, are you like me? Hardworking and very focused, yet, it looks as though you were just sleeping with your time and just plain lazy.

Hey, I think I found a way, but don’t follow me ‘cos I don’t even know if actually, it is the way. But like we’ve always done, let’s just try everything and maybe, this time, we may have found the way.

But understand, there is nothing impossible to achieve; your present situation is not really a factor.
Also understand that, no knowledge is wasted; the education you got today will be your most uselful tool. So, don’t go about and join the idiots who say that education is a waste of time. And where certificate failed, your talents will ride on the stable back of your education and together, they will take you to your destinations.

So, what should we do?

Must we write off ourselves and remove our chances from the shelves?

I don't think so!

I think we must harness our skills, sharpen our talents and ride on our education until we get there too.

So, meet me there- I mean, at the top, because I am already on my way!

Read More

HAPPY NEW DAY !!!!

This new day, January 2016, I know a lot of guys would have made so many resolutions people call, a new year resolution. As much as that is a great thing to do, why wait till the first day of every year to this?

People are so easily deceived, and the worst part is how we also deceive ourselves.

This year, we will all be a year older either on the 1st of January, or any other day in 2016, and we will be nearing another stage in life. We will either be proud to tell people our real age or be ashamed to blurt it out! Why? Because for many, they have achieved what was expected of them at that age, and for others who are shameful about their age, they are still struggling to survive and so, decided that telling people their real age is like giving them a key to ridicule them!

But hey, how old do you think you are? I bet you could only know that by calculations based on the calender- a calendar invented many year ago. Why then will that be the basis of your giving up or not giving up? Why must you think that people of your age group are not expected to be in a particular situation? Why did you think that going to school is no more an option? Why did you want to believe that involving in a particular activity is no more expected of you at your age? Why did you write off your chances because the world of calendar says you're too young or too old?

When people squeeze themselves inside religious houses to praise their God(s), I wonder why they didn't realise that the night only came as usual, and so was the day- nothing unusual except the change in dates!

Why must every January 1st be special while the rest of the days are not? The answer is simple -- ignorance!

There is nothing like a special day in your life except the ones you made to be. There are no new big days except the one you will choose. Make everyday special by doing the right thing, going the right way and make the right decision.

Let the special days be the day you took that decision to move on and continue; let it be the day your decided to continue your education; let it be the day you forgot about your age and take over the world...make everyday special....make it a new year!

     ***my thoughts, my life, my way***

Happy new day!!!

Read More

DEAR AGNES

Dear Agnes, how are you? How is your new family? I could only hope things are shaping up.

Please, don’t be annoyed that I had to write you this late. You see, I couldn’t attend your wedding because of circumstances I couldn’t control. But I am glad you are now okay, I mean, now that you are married.

Nevertheless, I still wondered why you had to get married, after deciding to be single, just a few years back. Could it have been that your incessant church going and marathon night vigils were targeted at getting a soul mate? You said you will be single forever, you said single is happy.

Though, I knew you started that cliché out of frustration, one you will never admit. I knew you cried inside whenever you are alone, but shows your shining teeth to the world whenever you are outside. You almost ill-advised our other friend, Janet, remember? She almost destroyed her marriage when you told her it was wrong for her to submit to her husband. The word, ‘submit’, you gave a horrific meaning that Janet almost believed you. You drew instances from horrific occurrences and asked Janet to divorce before it was too late. I told you that that was unnecessary, the first few years of marriage are always the hardest; especially in a situation like Janet’s where they only courted for three months before rushing into marriage. I’m glad she didn’t listen; she now has had her third child, with a blissful marriage.

Dear Agnes,

my good friend, I hope you learnt some lessons? Especially, one that you will be able to pass on to your female children (assuming your womb has not become too weak to hold a baby just like our fourth friend, Binta, whose incessant miscarriages were due to her many abortions).

For a first, tell her that time waits for nobody: remember, those times when we were 17, we were eager to have boyfriends. It was fun, and I could still recollect the scent of James, that guy you always said had nothing to offer. You chose the best and flow with the rest. Like I said, it was fun.

Fast forward to when we were 23 while moving to the university, my mom advised us to focus on our education and choose our friends carefully. Of course, we did. You chose Binta, and I chose Janet.

Without choice, we all became friends. Binta, a lousy short devil, took you around the world, going to clubs and night parties while Janet and I stayed behind burning the candles. You rejected offers for relationships from your mates and followed those who will pay. You lived large, you and Binta. The memories of watching that JVC 72 inches LCD TV (the only one in the whole hostel), in your room, still lingers. You were the bomb! The only males who were our mates that you will ever roll with were the ones who had the cash to spare. They must be rich because you were rich, the one people call the Big Girls.

Suddenly, without announcement, we were 28 in ages, and while I was able to keep a relationship after four fails, Janet was able to get John, the one she met and married some few years after her service year. 

I could recollect your gist back then, you and Binta were posted to the same state for your youth service, and you said you lived the life. Both of you were the talk of the town.

By the time you wanted to settle down, your mates no longer wanted you, you looked too old. The younger ones only wanted your money. You were being dated and jilted. The old men only wanted to go between your legs. Of course, they were ready to splash the cash, but it seemed you guys were no more interested in the act. You wanted to be serious, but it appeared too late.

Then, without effort, I heard you didn’t miss a program in the church. That was surprising, and Binta was frequenting the mosque. She even wore a hijab! I thanked the Lord for your soul. But I knew it wasn’t for free, you must want something very bad, something that should have proven hard to achieve.

After some years, at 36 years of age, I learned that Binta got married to a guy of 23 years old! Ha, I couldn’t believe my ears. I learnt the guy was a serving corps member in the company that Binta was working, and they got real close.

Binta? I couldn’t believe my ears when she said ‘age is just a number, it doesn’t matter in love’. Binta said that? That was shocking and funny, because during our university days, a younger guy wouldn’t dare approach her. If he did, he must be ready to listen to the tale of his birth and how she could have attended his naming ceremony!

Hmmm, it is well. Age, which was always one of the main factors back then, suddenly refused to be a problem again! Chai!! There is God o! You guys know you can deceive everyone, but please, cut me a slack.

As for you, after hundreds of failed attempts, even in Church, you started advocating for ‘single is happy’. You started talking about feminism and you pride yourself an independent lady who needs no man.

I am so sorry, but I laughed when I heard that. I knew you already gave up. Why shouldn’t you, at 38, no one wanted to get serious, except the ones who wanted you to be a second wife, even worst, the fourth.

Dear Agnes, I know I sounded too harsh, but you must take my advice, now that you eventually managed to get married-

1.    In marriage, you must make it work. I’m not asking you to be a slave, but be a helper.

2.    There will be troubles at first, just like Janet’s, but be patient, things will fall in place.

3.    Endeavour to teach your daughters- become their trusted friend. Experience, they say it is the best teacher.

4.    Keep praying, keep thanking God. Many didn’t even have the chance.

5.    Do not treat your husband as if he did you a favour by marrying you. It is understandable that you may feel this way after many have considered you an expired good. I know that years of being lonely and dejected may leave a dent on your self-esteem, but you must not let go of your pride of being a woman. If you do this, you will always be at his mercy. This is not good for you. You are made for each other, so, act that way.

6.    Do not disrespect your husband. Give him his respect, explain your views, and you will always be his queen.

7.    If things are not working out, and they seem like they wouldn’t, separate or divorce. There is no shame in that.

And please, remember these words of fantasy: Life is beautiful in marriage; marriage is always the best that can happen to a man.

If you believe that stupid statement, then pigs also fly.

I HOPE TO SEE YOU SOMEDAY, DEAR AGNES!

Read More

THIS, I AM

Before you read this beautiful piece, please know this poem is for people who are rejected for their unique ways of life. 'Unique', I say, but many have been rejected by parent(s), family, peers and so on, and termed 'damaged' for choosing a particular way.

They are left alone to wander alone and struggle to survive.

But it is a known fact, that whatever you believe in, continue with it regardless of what people say: u shall succeed.

This is for people like Charlie boy and Derenle Edun (Nigerians) and many all over the world!

                         

                             THIS, I AM

Like the Atlantic Ocean my shortcomings are seen
Like a raven lunatic I threaded always, the deviant path
Unkempt as to defining everything, my ways, to them are sins
Yet I was call not of evil but of good even with my deviant path

****

My actions though unguarded, was never meant to hurt
I was neither meant to be perfect, nor even created to be one
I crave for them to look through me, beyond my disgusting being
And see the things I perfected, even in imperfect being

****

I was neglected since I decided not to change my ways
My future left unprotected as they shift the pole I leaned
In their heart I was a disgrace and in time they hoped I fail
In my quest to be different I must walk the lonely way

****

They interpreted my actions with contempt,
Pointing me towards an unknown future
They persisted my cause toward a vague end, but No!
My mind was made, not the bad they see but the good I behold,

****

Down the years it has been glorious with bitter-sweet sacrifices,
Never will I assume the catalyst to see this rose gross in agony,
Rendering the kernel to shed its clothes
But never put it back on itself,

****

This, I call to prove that which is proven
Even then I crave their loving heart,
That they consider my passion, so it does not woven,
For I'm clothed by my choice certainly but not to hurt a heart,

****

Their perception though, rob me of being the desired lad,
The pillar of my decision was not of evil or cursed
But of blessings; even in my imperfection,
This, they take amiss,

****

Though not here to convince otherwise;
I tour the path of elusive one, in their sight
My stand was mistaken, all along
Yet my action vindicated my later

****

Above all!
My soul joyed of the love, the happiness, the joy,
The tranquility, the bond that defines my success,
For tedious the toiling took me alone
Yet the rejected stone became the corner stone.

poem by Jerry (twitter: @unclejays00) and KINGwax Oluwadamilare (twitter: @acme_success).

Read More

LIFE AFTER DEATH

picture from chimoments.blogspot.com

My name is KINGwax Oluwadamilare, and I will be telling you a true life story about my friend, Kofi.

I met Kofi in 2015 on Facebook. He was a Ghanaian who shared the same writing zeal as I.

Kofi was a graduate with a good grade and no job- a circumstance he found himself entangled in that wasn’t his fault. Nevertheless, Kofi was a hard worker who tried all who could to stay afloat in this stormy world of his.

We started by sharing writings and trying to chip in ideas into each other’s piece, and as long as it lasted, it went well and we both benefitted from the arrangement.  None of us bothered to try and employ the services of an editor because we couldn’t even afford it. As struggling youths from different countries, we tell our stories in our writings, and we erase every form of depression through expressions in writing. We almost shared the same style of writing as our poetry is mostly inspired by darkness, a negative muse due to sadness around our intended gladness. With hands well held together, we were surviving and laughing. We know that one day, a door will open.

Then suddenly, I stopped seeing his mail and I got worried when he didn’t reply mine. His mobile number was no more available. That scared me because it was running into weeks since I heard from my dear friend!

So, I logged into my Facebook account and tried to contact some of his friends who happened to be my mutual friends too. I told them I was worried about him and someone promised to help me trace him.

Three days later, a strange number called, and the voice was Kofi’s. He sounded dead and distant like a soul from hell.

“What happened, Kofi,” I asked, dreadfully, hoping the answer will be positive. But it wasn’t, Kofi was dying and the worst part was that he was willing to die!

He said, “I just found out that my fiancé of five years has been sleeping with her neighbour who works in a bank.”

“Did you confirm that?” I asked, trying to pacify him.

“Yes, I did,” He replied, to my horror.  “The worst part is that this guy claims to be very religious, and my girlfriend…sorry, my ex, is the chief usher from her church; a very religious lady who never misses any of the church services. I thought I had myself a gem, but my friend, I am so depressed that I don’t know what next to do. I have stopped writing and I think I’m going to die!” He screamed and started crying like a baby, much to my annoyance.

“Dude”, I called on him, “as much as I sympathizes with you, I must admit that you are a fool!”

The crying stopped abruptly, and I continued.

“If you die because of this, will that stop them from having sex and talking about your stupid life? Did you consider the fact that this revelation would have been more painful if you guys are already married? Did you realize that you should be grateful that you know that your ex- wasn't a saint she claimed to be? Didn’t you feel good that a problem of many years was brought to your notice this day? Didn’t it feel like you just saw tomorrow? Why are you so myopic that you forgot to see that aside her, there are others humans with boobs and hairy triangles walking to be noticed?

“If only I was in your shoe, I would have called you today and tell you how I used my situation to write as many poems as I could. How I wish this could be your opportunity to tell a story that you can relate with. Dude, send me your address so that I can attend your funeral as the last respect to a friend if you still insist on dying!”

I knew I was too harsh, but it worked because it was just the truth. He was silent, and then he disconnected. I didn’t hear from him until someone sent me a mail containing a link to a website. Lo and behold, there was the picture of my friend as a winner in an international writing contest. He will even be travelling to England for his chapbook launching. There was a little page for a dedication. It reads:

“People who left you while you were struggling for air in the waters were just helping you to float to the surface. Because they do not have a mind of their own, if you insist on carrying them along then you might just have to sink with them.

“Do not worry about the things you cannot have, but be anxious about the great ideas you were unable to write about.

“This chapbook is dedicated to my only friend, KINGwax Oluwadamilare. You are the one who made me realize that there indeed life, after death.”

Read More

THE LOST SOUL

                                                        

           

Plunged into the ocean of darkness

Struggling in its impossible berth

Wishing I could escape this smoke of blackness

Feeding my soul with nothing but spiritual death

Oh, save my soul, for I know no peace

My conscience is drowned in the evil of my actions

My ways are paved on the path of the wicked

My nights are haunted by evil of my days

I escaped poverty, but I murdered my sleep

I destroyed potentials and the poor I cheated

I rejoice always at the wailings of the weak

I joined the league of the worst and the wicked

I failed to draw peace from the vastness of my possession

I couldn’t derive joy from the oceans of my wealth

My feet are quick to the house of the voodoo

Because my evil now eats through my health

Yes, I am lost, but I wish to be found

I have traded my peace with my carnal desires

Let the winds come and let Karma be invited

I bared my soul because I hope to be found!

picture from riskeverythingfearnothing.tumblr.com

Read More

HOW TO DISCOVER YOUR PURPOSE IN LIFE

Today, I will be sharing a work a great man who decided to share with us, how he discovered his purpose in life. In sharing this, he hoped to help many like me, maybe like you too, to discover a purpose and work in line with it. Because in truth, a life without purpose is as disgusting as a cockroach. People get irritated whenever such individual appears.

So, take your time to digest.

PART 1

What Living On Purpose Really Means

Living on purpose simply means being able to give a correct account of the WHY for every of your daily actions. It means to live your life like a man/woman on an assignment; having short term, medium term, and long term goals for your life. It means living a planned life. Living on purpose implies a longer life for you; and not just that alone; it also means a life full of impact and meaning. It is a life worth living.

Nothing can be more frustrating as drifting through the days of your life like a robot, feeling lost and dissatisfied; angry at life, angry at people, blaming everyone else but yourself. People with a lack of purpose float rather than swim. They are passive in life rather than active. They flow with the tide and will rarely row hard against it.

They are shortsighted, helping fulfill everybody’s dreams but their own. Their lives are an emotional roller coaster, with more troughs than peaks; bored with themselves, often finding a way to distract themselves whenever possible. They rather find joy in foolishness such as expecting to get laid, flagrant display of clothes and its accessories, flaunting of electronics that are already outdated in Europe, binge drinking, joining of evil groups on campuses and so on.

This may be sounding vitriolic, or looks like a cynical viewpoint, but I’m afraid it isn’t. This is reality. I was a victim of lack of purpose for many years. Some of those days, I stayed awake all night, pondering what on earth I was born to do in life. I was so easily distracted by anything at all; lacking focus and direction; spending my life on social media sites just to scout for  frivolities such as cheap sex and to scam others.

PART 2

My Story

Between my first year in the medical school and fourth year, I vacillated constantly on what I wanted to do after school because I clearly lacked direction. In my first year in school, I wanted to specialise in Orthopaedic Surgery because I had an uncle who was a successful orthopaedic surgeon. Problem arose when I tried to get close to him to be my mentor then, but sadly, I discovered that he didn't believe in me. He thought I would never make it through medical school. He constantly spoke words of fear each time I visited him; telling me stories upon stories of young chaps who couldn't make it beyond the 2nd MBBS examinations. I lost my confidence and self esteem listening to him constantly, so I stopped visiting him.

I later changed my mind to Ophthalmology in my second year; then Obstetrics and Gynaecology in my third year. Later on, I decided I was going to be a top entrepreneur, with a focus on importation of drugs and running a one stop pharmacy complex. But my contract with confusion had not been severed. There was more confusion to come.

In my fourth year in school, I decided that I was going to be a pastor with my church.

So, in pursuit of the anointing for the ministry ahead, I abandoned my academic texts for many months as I went on many personal retreats. I missed tutorials and clinics while reading up on several books on Faith, Miracles, Power, etc, and I listened to hundreds of tapes in the process. I was the president of our fellowship then in campus. 

Needless to say, I dropped in my academic performance in school during this period of my search for the anointing and I’m sure you know why.

Due to this effect on my academic studies, I gave up again on being a pastor and I faced my books squarely in order to return to my academic best. 

It was during this time that I became angry at God and at the religious folks around me. I rebelled vigorously against God in my mind. I cared less anyway since I clearly couldn't diagnose my problem.

It was not until my fifth year that it all came together. I had more clarity than ever before. Nothing gives more clarity than a sense of purpose.

Are you feeling like a confused automaton trapped in a cold and unforgiving matrix? I’ll show you a way out; how I solved my own puzzle of living without a purpose and a direction. Grace to you.

PART 3

How I finally discovered My Purpose.

(1) I spent one weekend alone, thinking and reflecting on my CORE VALUES.

You see, our values are a pointer to where our calling lies. For instance, I discovered that my core values included

~Integrity and Sincerity

~Curiousity (Yes, it's true. I'm a curious person. I lack discipline and order). The meaning is that I hate routine and would likely rebel against norms than follow them.

~Hardwork

~Dedication

~Respect

~Loyalty

~Love, Compassion and Sharing

~Impact, Recognition and Appreciation

~Family and Friends.

I wrote them down, and decided that I would walk away from people, associations, societies, and cliques that do not share at least half of these values. There is a correlation between purpose and your values.

(2) I looked inward to discover what my PASSION really was.

For instance, I have more passion for public speaking and making power point presentations than I have for hospital job. Thus while my value for Love, Contribution and Sharing will keep me in the practice of medicine, my passion for communicating hope and direction will keep me afloat as a public speaker.

(3) I analysed the things that gave me PAIN and STRESS.

Many of us have been hurt and disappointed severally by people. For instance, I lost a sibling who was supposed to be my elder brother to a careless doctor who was treating him for malaria for several weeks while he was suffering from anaemic heart failure; which eventually took him. 

He was the only son of my parents then, with five female siblings ahead of him already. So, you can imagine the pain of my parents at losing a son they've been waiting for.

You see, there will be defining moments in your life. You don't have to forget them; but heal from them and turn them into a message/career. Make sure someone close to you does not have to go through the same things that hurt you in the past.

(4) I took a look at the PROBLEMS around me.

I believe that problem solvers are men of purpose. To help in solving other people's problems will shoot you to relevance and make you a man-on-assignment- a man of purpose. So, I found a problem.

When I was a student, one problem I saw was a sea of people who didn't know why they were in school. Some naive girls as young as 16 or 17 years were readily snapped up by smooth talkers who go on to persuade them to move in with them. 

Every night is a night of rumble under the sheets. These girls enter the university as good, homely girls but are turned to sex objects before they leave school. These are people's future wives for that matter. I saw it as a social problem that needs to be solved.

It pained me, so I started talking about it. I will enter a class early in the morning before a lecturer comes in and plead for attention from them to hear me out. I talked in hostels too. Little did I know that I was sharpening my public speaking skills and perfecting myself in the art of persuasion; at the same time, making an impact in the lives of first year students.

(5) I spent time bathing myself in PRAYER

-asking God why He created me, and sent me to my family, my community, my state, and Nigeria. Why was I born in Nigeria and not in Luxemburg?

I prayed until I had peace in my mind that God wanted me to practice medicine and not to be an entrepreneur/importer of drugs after medical school (please don't laugh).

You see, I believe the bible is a universal book that has sold more than any book on earth; filled with so much wisdom. Thus whether you believe in God or  you are simply an atheist, I hope you draw inspiration from a story I read in Habakkuk 2vs1-3 that taught me this 5th point.

Prophet Habakkuk said he will stand on his watch (the place of prayer), to hear what God will tell him. Then God gave him his purpose and told him to write it boldly and in plain letters. God further encouraged him with further words of hope. You can find your purpose like this.

PART 4

Warning:

(1) Ladies, please never marry a man that clearly lacks purpose.

They are everywhere, roaming up and down without a purpose or plan for their lives. It will be a Holy Padlock, not a Holy Wedlock; because they will sit over your purpose/plans/ambitions; feeling threatened at your progress since they themselves lack purpose. 

They are the type of men that graduate into abusers; battering their wives at the slightest issue because they try so hard demanding for respect instead of earning it with their grand purpose/plan/ambition/sense of direction. The stories on internet portraying all sort of abuses meted out to women are enough lessons. Beware, lest you forget.

(2) Gentlemen,please do not marry a clearly clueless, naive woman who is not supportive, without direction, totally dependent and materialistic, without a life of her own.

As a single lady, her highest calling is spending time on how to tie a man in an unholy marriage of her own; warming a hundred beds in town without planning on how to be a wife/mother/resourceful partner/efficient manager of resources/homemaker.

A sense of Purpose/Assignment solves all that. It has a way of conferring wisdom for living to people who discover theirs.

PART 5

My Prayer For You

If you're currently reading this, I believe you're a messenger; and you need to know that. You were designed with an end in mind so you should discover it and fulfil it.

The spotlight is on you now. May your life never lack a sense of purpose. You’ll never drift through life again. You’ll go from wandering aimlessly to possessing your future. You will own it.

You shall experience a quantum leap - a radical ascent of grace, shooting you up into new realms of life, not traceable to your natural ability.

You shall experience unpredicted emergence; a show up on the scene supernaturally, like the Wind, and taking your space by storm!

You shall experience a mighty rescue from habits stronger than you, plus the licence for a future better than your past.

God will take over your life and you will become a different person by grace. Your soul will be emptied of pain, and the curtains will lift for new light.

Grace to you, and unto me too (amen).

You can connect with the writer through his twitter handle: @DrChiemeziem

Read More