I just remembered this couple that used to live in the same compound with me.

The husband was so aggressive. Anytime the wife makes a little mistake, he will shout , abuse the wife and also beat her up but he never knew he was married to an ex wrestler.

We talked to this man to always calm down when he is provoked but it all fell on deaf ears.

One day, while inside my room, they started quarreling again. But everyone decided to mind their business because we were tired of separating them.

The next thing we heard was "Gidim, Gidim, Gidim . In my mind, I thought maybe the man has started beating the wife again, I decided to go out and peep through their window. What I saw surprised me.

The wife carried the man up like half bag of rice, from dinning hall to parlour, from parlour to veranda . At the veranda he lifted him up with the Collar of his shirt.

His legs were swinging on the air like pendulum.

The man was shouting "Oya drop me now, drop me now before I vex and come down.

We begged the woman to drop him. After so much pleading, she finally dropped him like a sack of onions imported from Kaduna.

Since then, we no dey hear pim again.

Till I left the compound, the man has been cold like ice water.

She dealt with him in a way that pleased the Lord.

WHY MODERN MARRIAGES ARE COLLAPSING:

Why are men refusing to get married these days?

Why are so many women who have it all do not have husbands even in their 40s?

These are not accidents.

These are as a result of REBELLION.

When women abandon their feminine nature, they abandon the very thing that makes marriage attractive.

Modern women are taught to act like men, compete with men, be equal to men and fight men.

Now, women are confused as to why men no longer want to marry them.

Men can't lead or protect women who see them as opponents and competitors.

Men are not afraid of marriage. They are worried about fighting their rebellious wives in their own homes every day.

Marriage is no longer seen as an act of love but as business by most women.

If you make millions of cash, buy me cars and solves all my financial worries before I can be submissive to a man; then that's not submission but extortion!!!

Submission is not earned. Submission is chosen. You choose to be submissive or not to be submissive.

If a woman wants to get everything from a man before respecting him, then that's stupid because no man can give you everything you want.

You can't have the benefits of marriage without the responsibilities. The responsibilities are submission, service, sacrifice and loyalty.

You can't build a home where one partner is committed while the other is entitled.

You can't see submission as slavery and expect a happy marriage.

Submission becomes her enemy and no man marries an enemy.

You can't build a future with a woman who hates orderliness.

A man's marriage is the most expensive investment he will ever make. So, he wants to be sure he is investing rightly.

Marriage with a rebellious woman is suicidal. No matter how much you put into it, it's destined to collapse.

Modern men would prefer to die in peace alone than to stay with rebellious wives.

Women claim to be proudly independent until it's time to pay the bills alone, raise the kids alone or die alone.

Their funerals are filled with regrets.

God did not design women to live and die alone. Independence was never the goal.

Women are fighting for relevance and no man fights for relevance in his own home.

In today's dating markets, too many women are not looking for love. They are looking for financial saviours.

Men have come to realise all these and that's why they are not getting married as they used to.

"JESU KRISTO!!" Mama Agatha screamed, slapping the priest as if he was a thief. "FATHER, CONTROL YOURSELF! YOU ARE A MAN OF GOD!"

THE DAY I TRIPPED ON MY GOWN AND ALMOST SET THE PRIEST ON FIRE

It was a bright Sunday morning, and I was ready to serve in Mass like a true champion. I had done this a thousand times before—carrying the censer, swinging it gently, walking like an angel. But little did I know, this would be the day I became the greatest entertainer in the history of our church.

The church was packed. My family was there, my crush was there, even the village gossip, Mama Atieno, was there—ready to witness my downfall and report it with full details.

I took my position near the altar, holding the censer like a holy warrior. The choir sang like angels. The priest was in deep prayer. The congregation was silent. Everything was perfect.

Then it happened.

As I stepped forward, my long gown decided it had had enough of my holiness. It grabbed my feet and held on tight like a stubborn goat. Before I knew it, my left foot betrayed me, my right foot joined in, and I went flying like a bird who had forgotten how to fly.

"Wuuuuuiiiiiii!!!"

Down I went, arms flailing, censer swinging like a wrecking ball. The censer hit the floor with a mighty clang and—BOOM!—a cloud of holy smoke exploded like a witchcraft battle. But that was not the worst part. No, my dear brothers and sisters in Christ, the worst part was where the censer landed.

Right on the priest’s gown.

The poor man screamed like someone had poured boiling tea on his lap. "FIRE! FIRE!" he shouted, hopping around like a grasshopper on a hot pan. Instead of calmly handling the situation like a man of God, the priest OVERREACTED.

He panicked.

He grabbed his gown, yanked it up, and tried to pull it off while running around blindly, screaming like a madman. His sandals flew in different directions. The congregation gasped, the choir stopped mid-song, and even the church cat that always sat near the altar ran for its life.

But it gets worse.

In his blind panic, the priest did not see where he was going. Still struggling with his half-removed gown, he tripped over his own feet and went flying—headfirst—right into the congregation. And where did he land?

Right onto the lap of Mama Agatha, the oldest and most respected woman in the church.

"JESU KRISTO!!" Mama Agatha screamed, slapping the priest as if he was a thief. "FATHER, CONTROL YOURSELF! YOU ARE A MAN OF GOD!"

The whole church erupted in laughter. Even my mother, who was already planning my punishment, had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling. My crush? Oh, she was finished. Tears of laughter streamed down her face as she held her stomach.

Meanwhile, Mama Atieno was shaking her head, already preparing her report for the entire village: "Did you hear? The priest jumped on Mama Agatha’s lap! The devil was in that church today!"

Finally, someone poured water on the priest’s gown, putting out the tiny ember that had started. The priest sat up, breathing heavily, still tangled in his own robe. He cleared his throat and said, "Well… that was unexpected."

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. But no, the ground refused. Instead, I had to stand there, pretending to be holy while my legs still shook.

From that day on, I earned a new name in the village: "The Altar Burner." Even my grandmother, who never joked, told me, "Maybe church work is not for you, my son."

And my crush? She still smiles at me in church, but I know—deep down—she will never forget the day I almost turned the priest into a burnt offering and sent him flying onto Mama Agatha’s lap.

Title: The Drumbeat of the Ant

In the golden heart of the African savanna, where the winds hummed songs of old and the sun kissed every grain of earth, a great celebration was being planned. The Lion King had declared a grand festival to unite all animals in joy and peace. There would be dancing, music, storytelling, and a mighty drum that would beat across the plains.

Every animal brought something.

The elephant brought palm wine in a gourd the size of a boulder.
The peacock brought feathers that shimmered like the morning sun.
The zebra painted paths with his striped tail.
The hyena—even he—brought laughter.

But the little black ant, Tano, had nothing grand to give. He was so small, many didn’t even notice he was there.

“I’ll carry something for someone,” he whispered to himself.

So he helped the dung beetle push his ball. He climbed the giraffe’s neck to untangle a leaf stuck in her eye. He fixed the tear in the tortoise’s shell with a single drop of sap.

And on the day of the festival, the great drum carved from sacred iroko wood stood silent. The elephant had forgotten the drummer.

“Who will play?” the animals cried. “Who knows the rhythm of the land?”

“I will,” said a tiny voice.

It was Tano, standing on a dry stick, holding a seedpod.

The animals laughed—until he began to tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.
His rhythm echoed the heartbeat of the earth.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The trees swayed. The birds joined in. Even the sky seemed to nod along.

The festival roared to life. Tano’s beat guided the dance of the lion, the grace of the gazelle, the sway of the snake.

When the sun set and the stars blinked awake, the Lion King stood and bowed.

“Today,” he said, “a small ant taught us the biggest lesson: It is not the size of your gift, but the heart with which it’s given.”

⸻

Moral Lessons:
1. No contribution is too small when done with love.
2. Greatness isn’t about size—it’s about impact.
3. Every voice matters, even the quietest one.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to move. But fear held me back.

And then… she walked to my cupboard.

She stood there, her body blocking whatever she was doing inside the cupboard. I couldn’t see her hands, couldn’t hear anything—just silence. Heavy, haunting silence.

I laid there, drowning in questions, fear tightening its grip around my chest. I didn’t know what to think. When she turned, she didn’t speak. She just walked towards the door with piece of cloth that concealed something. I couldn’t tell what was inside and it felt somehow heavy.. Prisca looked at me again to confirm my state before finally leaving and shutting the door.

I waited about five minutes, trying to process everything, then quietly stepped out through the back door. The compound was silent—too silent. No footsteps, no distant voices. My neighbours’ homes were locked as well.

I looked around. The overhead bulbs casted pale lights over one side of the yard, but the area was completely empty.

My head buzzed with questions, but I stayed calm.

I decided to follow the narrow, bushy path—the same one Prisca always mentioned whenever she stepped out late at night, claiming she just needed to ease herself. We even pass the road to dispose some of our diets at times. My feet moved on their own, careful not to make noise, while my heart thudded like a drum inside my chest.

Halfway through the path, I raised my torch and swiped the beam ahead.

That was when I saw it.

A figure—faint but familiar—crouched ahead. My heart skipped. It looked like her. The shape, the posture... it had to be Prisca. But just as I tried to focus, the torchlight blinked and died. Darkness swallowed everything.

My body jerked in fear.

I stepped back, hitting the torch against my palm, almost pleading for it to come back on. My breathing was shaky. My mind, spinning.

And it clicked.

There she was.

Prisca. The wrapper I had seen her with was tossed behind her.

She had turned sharply in my direction. Something—long and thin, like a stick—was clenched between her lips. Fear gripped me so tightly that my legs refused to move. She was Naked, with nothing on but the waist beads clinging to her hips.

Prisca Squatted low in the grass. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her bare legs, like someone trying to shield herself from a cold only they could feel. She looked like someone preparing for something, like someone in the middle of a ritual, something I couldn’t fathom.

My father married a mad woman.

He was caught sleeping with her and the elders punished him.

Weeks later, the mad woman was pregnant and villagers said my father was responsible.

After much friction, my father was married to the mad woman.

After nine months, she was taken to a midwife on the outskirt of town, where I was born.

I never liked my mother.

I always distanced myself from her.

Whenever father left for market, he'll tell me to look after her. But I didn't, I'll rather sit outside and play alone.

I was often mocked and jeered at school for being the son of a mad woman. And often, she'll be seen at the market square walking and talking to herself, or beside the gutter washing her feet. Sometimes, she would be at a waste bin picking out rubbish.


I used to cry in my room and ask God why he gave me a mad woman for a mother, but others had sane and well to do mothers.

I grew to hate her more and more because she stank, always dirtied her clothes and ate food with both hands, instead of Cutleries.

When I turned nineteen, I left the village to be with my aunt in the City. Over there, my Aunt got me a job through one of her friends.

I worked as a waiter and within Months I was able to save much before December.

I wanted to live and feel big when I returned to the village, so they'll not see me as the local boy or the poor son of a trader whose mother was a mad woman.

When I finally came to the village, it was the Christmas period. I used a bushy track behind the market square.

It was evening, my heart was heating up with excitement, as I wanted to show everyone I had made it big.

I met my mother from afar sitting on a patch of grass in tattered clothes!

I didn't want to meet her, nor want her to meet me.

I didn't want to hug her damp and smelly body.

I didn't want to see her lank short and drab brown hair.

I turned, immediately and all of the sudden people brushed past me, pushing me on the floor. I was brushing off the sand and dirt where a feminine voice shouted.

" Come and catch him o, onye oshi! Onye oshi!"

Before I knew what was amiss, a firm hand grabbed my trousers by the waist. People suddenly appeared with sticks and matches, others carried whips.

I was descended upon.

Nobody wanted to hear me out. Nobody wanted to know if I was innocent.

The whip landed on my back, the cane added, the matchet slammed on my buttocks. I was screaming, crying pleading but all paid deaf ears.

" Finish him, thief, shameless thief, fine boy like you!" A woman said landing slaps on my face.

Within a blink I felt liquid spilled over my body.... It was petrol! I screamed the more.

" In your next life you'll never steal people's things... Thief!" The man that spilled me petrol said.

I suddenly felt helpless. I regretted my journey to the village. I hadn't even seen my father and now the man was calling out for match stick or lighter.

I was drenched in tears and blood from bleeding. I didn't know myself– all I knew was to beg for my life.

A boy was approaching with lighter when a coconut branch landed on him and soon on everyone.

There was a stampede.

" Mad people! Bloodthirsty demons! Leave my son o." A woman said in Igbo.

It was my mother, she ran to shield me immediately. She was crying as she saw my wounds that bled and the tears that soaked my face.

" Ndo, ndo." Was all she could say and lifted me up gently.

The villagers never knew I was the mad woman's son who travelled a long time ago. They all thought I was the thief that stole from a market woman's shop.

Where it not for my mother, I'd be dead. I never loved her but she saved my life. A mother's love never dies

HABITS THAT SHOW IMPROPER UPBRINGING OF CHILDREN.
Dear Parents Please, carefully look at the list below and identify where you may want to make amends on yourself or on the young ones you are bringing up.

Children, if not properly groomed may never get to the top in life, even if both parents are at the top of their careers.
Manners take you to where your education can't irrespective of your status, wealth or your reach or influence:

1) Going to your child's school indecently dressed. (Think again).

2) Speaking rashly to your child's teacher.

3) Cursing, using foul language or swearing words in front of your children.

4) Using makeup on children.

5) Dressing your little children up indecently (they loose their sense of Princess Hood).

6) Putting earrings on your son's ears.

7) Your child holds the cup or glassware by the brim and you don't correct.

8) Your children don't greet and you just feel they will come around one day because they have a mood swing. (You will be blamed for it).

9) Your children eat with their mouth opened and you feel they will grow up some day.

10) Your children bringing home something you did not buy for them and you say nothing. (that is the beginning of stealing).

11) The Children talk back at you and you conclude it's okay since you are a 21st century Parent. (You will hate yourself if they do that outside and they are disciplined).

12) The Children interrupt when you are speaking with another adult and you think they are bold and clever. (Its really bad manners).

13) The Children exercising authority over the Nanny and domestic staff and you let them be. (that is bad parenting).

14) The Children saying things like "my driver is on his way..." I do not advocate that children should call your domestic staff Uncle, Aunty or Brother, calling them by Name when they are not young people is not proper either. The use of Miss, Mr or Mrs will look good on them.

15) Your children don't say a 'thank you' when they have been helped or served something and you are cool with that. (Bad parenting).

16) When your Children cannot stand children who are less privileged.

18) When the Children pick their noses with their hands.

19) When the Children don't wash their hands after visiting the washroom or after returning from school or outside visits.

20) When your Children take something from the fridge without seeking permission. (Bad parenting).

21) When your Children don't knock on closed doors and wait for a response before opening the door.

22) When your Children don't collect from your hands items you brought in as you walk into your home.

23) When your Children request for a bribe to carry out their home chores or extra tasks. (That is disgraceful).

24) When your Children act like their Grandparents irritate them. (It's a Transferable Curse).

25) When your Children have not learnt to get up from the Chair for the Elderly or Visitors to sit.

26) When your Child tells lot of Lies. (You will both cry in the future).

27) When your Children ask "who is that?" at a knock on the door instead of "please, may I know who is there."

28) When your Child is always seated by your Visitors when being served Drinks or Food.

29) When your Children still point their fingers at other people, when talking to or speaking about them.

30) When your Children play and jump around when Prayers are going on. (These can apply to Children from Ages 4 and Above).

31) When a child wakes up in the morning, just staring at his/her Parents and Elders without greeting. (It is a bad habit and does not show good upbringing).

• Don't be a 21st Century Parents who can't correct their Children.

• Train your Children in the way of the Lord so that when they grow up they will not depart from such Godly Training or Upbringing.

IT IS BETTER TO LET YOUR CHILDREN CRY AT AN EARLY AGE WHEN YOU CORRECT THEM; IF NOT, YOU WILL BOTH CRY AT NIGHT WHEN THEY BRING DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY!.

LAUGH AND SMILE

1. Impregnating a girl in Europe is so nice that her parents will even buy you a car But in Nigeria, the curse alone will change your destiny

2. Anytime I cook at home, the whole family decides to drink garri.... I don't know why

3. This one that I'm seeing wedding ceremony everywhere, nobody should mistakenly marry my future wife ooh

4. Love can make you see your boyfriend as the most handsome guy on earth. Break up and see how ugly the idiot is

5. Being dumped by someone you love can make you watch TV for 5hrs without volume I swear

6. I hate it when going to put offering in church and one fat girl keeps dancing forward and backwards like MTN network....mtchew#miga

7. Glo well done o! So I have to sit at the edge of my bed, turn a little to the left and open my mouth before network enter my phone.🙆🏾‍♂️

8. Never trust a girl with a broken phone! If she can break her phone, then what is special in your heart?🤷🏿‍♂️

9. When I started Facebook last year I sent a friend request to Nicky minaj and she accepted! I was happy until she asked me to send her mtn credit🙆🏾‍♂️

10. No body keeps in touch with you than a girl you promise to send money, she can even appear in your dream

11. Just because you are using MTN doesn't mean you should allow your teeth to be yellow#miga

12. It took me 5 hours to compose this jokes and you say you will read without commenting and Following me? OkayI will not say anything. ...........

WHO I AM
I am black and bold
I am strong and fearless
I am the definition of Africa
I am from Above, Citizen of Heaven
I am the apple of God's eyes
I am a priest and a living sacrifice
I am called out of darkness into light
I am in Christ and Christ in me
I was dead but now I am alive
I am who I am and more because Christ died
I am who I am because Christ was buried
I am who I am because Christ resurrected
When you see me happy and joyful,
Nor be me do em oh;
Na Christ dey run em
Na Christ died,
Na Christ dey buried,
Na Christ resurrect;
But na me dey reap the benefits