I AM NOW A FEMINIST...

This post was written yesterday and put up on Facebook. I hope  you enjoy reading.

"I've read quite a few of the seminal feminist texts, but for a long time, I didn't. And I like to think I learned a lot about gender and power by watching local women in Nigeria, particularly women who are sort of lower down on the class hierarchy because I kind of felt that so much was against them that sometimes they exhibit a kind of strength that I didn't find in more educated and privileged women." - Adichie

I always want to start with the above thought whenever I scribble down anything on feminism and that's because in the past, I didn't believe that today's girls are suffering half of what the older generation or even the poorer women suffer to be yapping about feminism and gender equality. In my then chauvinist state of mind, I'd think that 'the world is already making genders equal. A little more patience and we're there. Ranting about feminism won't perform magic'. Like I said, this was me in the past.

Fast forward to the me now... I have become a feminist. An unapologetic one at that. I've come to think and see and understand what these girls go through that I've taken a personal decision, not only to correct acts that promote gender inequality to the best of my ability but to raise a daughter - Awele Opuruiche Olanna Ijeoyibo (these names are in my list for one person) and a son - Odenigbo (I haven't seen another catchy one) who'll understand and live this equality.

In the past I used to have issues becoming a feminist. First because male feminists were seen as guys who'd want to appear all nicey to females just because they wanted sex. Second because of the strong backgrounds that promoted gender inequality including the Bible and the Koran... (religious addicts should please not talk to me about this).

But I have a problem... My fellow feminists should understand that feminism promotes equality of sexes in politics, socialization and otherwise and while it tends to correct gender imbalances, it is not a war against men. First, like I mentioned earlier, I am a feminist. So, feminism is not for women who are unhappy or unmarried and are clocking 40. I know extremely happy, beautiful, and even married feminists so... That's not about the discuss...

I agree that women's place isn't in the kitchen. They should have equal political opportunities. They should have opinions. But... That's just about one side of the coin...

Recently I read a post on facebook from an angry male who thinks the department of Microbiology in UNN had made a terrible mistake by "letting girls" win the posts of President, Vice President, Secretary, Assistant Secretary and Treasurer. I was overwhelmed with shame when I read that post and in the words of Ada Monique, I honestly wished I could "unread" what I had read. Of course I didn't fail to outrightly "finish" this guy. When Frank read my comments, he tagged it "cyber bullying". Now... I don't want to spite the said guy but... each time I think of that post, a new reply comes to my mind and I wish I could go back and take his case up again.

But, this is just about it for girls... what about the guys? I don't know whether some girls who sing the songs of being feminists think that because the word looks more like the word feminine, it means a fight of women against men.

Now, I've laughed hysterically when I meet some of these girls. They talk about laws and dictates against the girls/women and forget the ones against men. Some of them know entirely nothing about war treaties against killing of women and children (suggestive of men being the ones to die). They also forget that when planes crash or a ship is about to founder, women and children are given preference over men if safety rescue measures are being taken (Watch Titanic for example).

Some of these girls yap about feminism and still expect guys to pay for their food at restaurants or to attend parties where guys pay and girls are free or still call guys to send them money to make their hair whenever it was time for that simply because 'the guy loves her'... A guy is shy and a feminist girl tells him to 'be a man' because shyness is reserved for girls? A guy can't be just tired? He isn't a man if he can't pretend not to be afraid of many things? He's a female son if he doesn't like football? He must be the one to make money and "make it" and then come and propose?

I look at all these socially defined disparities and they are just as important to be addressed in this war against gender inequality.

I don't belong to any of the conventional 50-50 groups but just yesterday,  I got a message from Purple Club to come for my induction. Now, I didn't attend any of their interviews so I don't know where the induction gist came from but maybe, that message was just a sign.

So, today, I've become a feminist.

And I'm of the opinion that a girl who runs her mouth towards a guy should get mouth running in return. And the one who slaps a guy should be ready to be beaten and no one would try to make the guy less of a guy by calling him a woman-beater.

The purple induction is tomorrow. I just may attend.

But, today, this evening, I've become a feminist, I am not horny and I want my fellow feminists to practise feminism right.

Rt. Hon. Rotr. Kizito Eze - Odenigbo.
MHR SUG 2016
ASISD Rota-UNN

NWANYI OGBETE

"I've read quite a few of the seminal feminist texts, but for a long time, I didn't. And I like to think I learned a lot about gender and power by watching local women in Nigeria, particularly women who are sort of lower down on the class hierarchy because I kind of felt that so much was against them that sometimes they exhibit a kind of strength that I didn't find in more educated and privileged women." - Adichie

I personally find the single image of strength in women troubling. The bourgeoisie image. The very privileged image. The educated higher-middle class and upper class image.

Troubling because as a person who is interested in the "everydayness" of people, I've learned that strength defies social class.

I should tell you about the female Keke rider (commercial tricyclist) I once met at 7 and 8 junction and how she unflinchingly told this annoying man off after he had told her that she wasn't fit to be patronized because 'she's a woman'. Or this woman in a bus I boarded last year. How she talked about her husband who had lost his job, and how he joined her in working at her restaurant. How he did the dishes and served customers since his cooking wasn't really good. I remember how she flatly responded saying that they both have to because they both need to eat and survive and it isn't really that deep after some passengers had eulogized her husband for 'helping' his wife to wash plates.

I should tell you about a friend's mother who single-handedly runs one of the biggest soft drinks depots in Enugu, despite being constantly reminded of how it's a 'business for men'.

Or this particular meat market at Colliery Road with female butchers.

I particularly want to celebrate all the ordinary women who do extraordinary things everyday. Women who still hold their own with little or no formal education. Women that are never in the news. Women who haven't used 600 million naira for house renovation. Women who haven't embezzled 13 billion pounds in a space of less than seven years from a country struggling to attain development. Women with few privileges that still embody strength. Those women that sell fruits in UNN girls' hostels instead of their bodies at Otigba junction. Nwanyi Nsukka... that one that hustles day and night at Ogige selling Ugba and Abacha or Ogiri or Okpei or Azu Mangara or Azu Fridge or Vegetables or Okrika, or Okpa. Umunwanyi Ogbete... Those ones with sane and safe hustles amidst class intimidation existent in Enugu. Everyday women!

                  -Odenigbo

THE BEAUTY OF BOOKS...

Good morning friends... how are we this morning? I'd posted this on my Facebook wall sometime last year, but, for those that are not on my Facebook list, you may like to take a look at this...

I was quite an early reader and by extension an early writer. My mum who was a teacher would
always buy me novels and also borrow from the school libraries (about 3 every week) and she'd
always read them before giving them to me so as to ensure they are decent and interesting! I guess I'm probably not meant to tell you how long I have read books or how many I have read but what books have done for me.

Many a time when I write short articles, people would always tell me how much they think I
should go into writing as a profession or how they think it'd be great if I open a blog. I haven't written any novel or something of that sort but
some of my articles have been published in popular blogs in UNN- UNN Zuo and Flawless. I now have a blog too! This is as a result of the books I've read and how they have exposed me towards knowing how well
to construct my sentences in order to sound "interesting."

I am from Nsukka-a part of Nigeria that is perceived timid and remote and undeveloped and yet produce the very many finest scholars and
writers that I learn from... You know them... However, whenever I make public speeches or I
talk with people, they always tell me "You don't speak/sound like an Nsukka person." You don't
want to know the replies I give them. The books I read not only improved my writing skills but my speaking skill. I learnt proper English as well as pronunciation of words by always looking up
words I didn't know their meanings in the dictionary.

During my A'levels programme in Lagos, I made use of some words that aren't regular in one of my presentations and later on, a classmate told me that he doesn't know what I'm still attending English classes for when I could speak so well. I was so excited for that
compliment.

My books made me have wide imaginations! Before I entered a plane for the first time, I already had an idea of what I'd expect inside a plane. Before I travelled out of the country for the
first time, I already had images of where I was visiting in my head because I would have read a book or two about that area or cited in that area. Sometimes my imaginations failed! But then,
something was achieved-I had imaginations! When I first went to Lagos however, my imaginations didn't fail. It was busy and rowdy and filled with unending traffic just as I read and had imagined.

I come from a family of 5! I'm the last of these 5 and the only undergraduate. The age spacing in my family is ridiculous! I'm 20 years younger than my eldest sibling. Doesn't that make him more or less a second father? And so, to be able to be
seen as someone who training in school is not a waste of time, I had/have to read books, learn
grammar and speak well. If I didn't do so, trust me, my brother's mouth alone is enough to make me feel bad.

Romance novels for me have also given me ideas of what boys/girls are in relationships and how to handle certain things. I hope they work when I
apply them.

Books are beautiful. They give you ideas and make your mind visit places you haven't been to.
No wonder even most of God's work and teachings are documented in a book... The good book... The Bible!

Have a lovely weekend.

SOMETHING ABOUT LOVE...

The loves! Who missed me? Who did I miss? Happy New Year y'all. It's been like forever and I've been away due to competing demands.

Here's something to start the year with and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Some people will be surprised at why I chose this...

I'm not an expert here, but I'm human enough to feel it, & then to say it. I'm not so experienced here, but I'm experienced enough to share this "something about love."

Love is such that every  person is free to fire it at any other person he/she pleases.

Here's the drama: "A" fires it at "B." And given that "B" is as free as "A" to fire in any direction, "B" fires it at "C" - not "A". What do we observe? "A" gets nothing from his/her object of love, because "B" is busy loving "C." And guess what? While "A" is busy trying to get at "B", who is trying to get at "C", a certain "D" is firing at "B-busy-A" from his/her end. For me, this is the comedy of love.

Are you complaining that the one you're firing all your love at doesn't even care if you exist or not? You probably now know why? He/she just happens to be firing in another direction; he/she loves another. Being loved back is not automatic, else we would all be madly in love with Jesus who loved us so much & died for us - but we all not are. It's just too rare to find too people fire love at each other simultaneously from the word go.

There's one hope we all work with in this comedy of love, the fact that we're all free, too, to reconsider the direction of our firing & then re-fire. If you hold on long enough, then the one you're firing at may notice you, consider you, reconsider his/her current direction, & now decide to fire at you. You win!

However, & finally, I like to be very realistic. Since some will not just work, don't wait for too long if it ain't working. Two things to do: look around to find the one firing at you & fire back, or just start the game all over.

Have you wondered why we say "love makes the world go round"? This is one of the reasons.

Enjoy your weekend!

OPINION: BETWEEN FRANCE AND NIGERIAN KILLINGS AND WHY WE MUST TELL OUR OWN STORIES...

Dear people of the world,

Good day.

We're all aware of the trend yesterday nah? The France killings and how Nigerians decided to spread mat on the matter like say nah their papa parlour.

This echoes my thoughts and I'd

I saw a lot of my Nigerian friends wearing the French flag in solidarity with France, following the chilling massacre in Paris on Friday. I also said a prayer for France and any person who is not touched by what terrorists are doing tocivilization is a terrorist himself.

Apart from people adding the French flag to their profile
pictures, as suggested by Facebook, I also noticed another trend among some Nigerians: the many questioning why the world would be more
concerned about deaths in France while thousands killed by Boko Haram has never drawn
such an outrage. This observation is right on the face value. I understand the attitude of the West to our concerns as degrading and snubbish. However, there is another angle to it. The scenario reminds
me of an Igbo proverb (I love my Igbo language) which says, "Onye kpo oba ya nkpokoro,
agbataobi ya ewere ya kporo ahihia." (If you call your vessel/container useless, your neighbour will use it to carry refuse/waste). In other words, if
you don't say what a thing means to you, nobody will take you seriously.

We have to ask ourselves these questions: How many times have Nigerians reacted as one
against all Boko Haram attacks? Every time killings happen in Nigeria, it either about GEJ or
Buhari, about the "baby factory Igbos" or the "mumu Hausas." When has any single killing not
been politicized that even the government in power was able to condemn it with the seriousness it requires? So, how do you expect the world to rally around you when your press
and citizens are busy blaming one party or the other when these things happen?

It is unfortunate we have not learnt to value each other. You should not expect others to give you what you don't consider valuable. All life matters
as I hear many say within this "Africa too narrative" but then we must also value our lives.
Africa, Nigeria must unite when tragedy happens. We cannot behave the way we do and expect others to respect what we do not respect. The
politics of bitterness we play even in the face of tragedy is horrible and discouraging for all who care.

Let us tell our stories. Let us value who we are. That many Nigerians can speak with one voice for France, but cannot speak with same voice when it
happens at their background is telling. It shows our penchant for consumption of foreign things
and ever preferring it to our own – life included.
It is a shame and we should question if we are really conscious of how we destroy collective image by installments.

By the way, ijekwa church?

OPINION: AN OPEN LETTER NNAMDI KANU MUST READ, NOT BUHARI...

Dear people!

How are we today? It's been a donkey while okwia? Yes I know. So many things have kept me away. I told us I was in the village tidying up some stuffs abi?  Not just that... The network there is particularly not so friendly. I guess I'm gon be more avaliable from today. And guess what? I missed y'all. I can't forget to thank all the "loves" and "families who aren't blood" who called to check on KEB. Y'all know I owe you...

I've had so many arguments with people on the Biafra and Nnamdi Kanu thingy... And just today, this article by Adiele Baba-Random Ephraim has come to echo my thinking 100%

It's quite a lengthy one but has stuffs in there. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did.

S ometime in May 2014, I was at Lekki Beach, a place we like to call CLASS OF WIZARDS or CLASS for short. It's a
place where young men and sometimes women
come to chill out and share ideas on every topic there is to discuss.

On this day, one class member, Celestine seemed
hyper happy. He kept smiling and feeling happy for no apparent reason. This prompted the rest of the class to ask what the happiness was about.
Soon enough he began telling us about Radio Biafra, gave us the dial and started telling us
about a demonstration scheduled for May 31, 2014. I calmly told him to relax on the pro-Biafra enthusiasm as that although that dream was not
dead, it was quite far from realization. I even placed a bet that the May 31 demonstration
would be of no national significance. I won the
bet.

Soon after the 2015 election and I was in Enugu, one of my favourite places to relax and I was having drinks with several young, enthusiastic and
politically conscious Nigerians with whom I started a non-political movement, the Peoples
Liberation Congress (PLC) – a movement seeking a working Nigeria with the full involvement of theyouth population.
We were having drinks and discussing several issues and the issue of the late Senator Chukwumerije came up, we compared his death to that of Oronto Douglas and majority of us were of the opinion that the latter would be remembered more than the aged former because he dedicated his life to a humanitarian cause. At
a point I stood up to get drinks for a member of our movement who had just joined us. Just then I was stopped by a bearded man who I must say
bore a striking resemblance to the late Biafran leader, Chukwuemeka Odimegwu Ojukwu. He asked if I was an Igbo man, given that I was
wearing my trademark Yoruba native caps. I replied "Yes, abu'm nwa Aba" meaning I am from Aba. He then showed me his phone, claiming he had made some calls for us to be dealt with for insulting Chukwumerije in Biafra. I then got into a
discussion with this man, explaining certain things.

The man later joined our table and introduced himself as a member of the Movement for the
Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra (MASSOB). After several minutes, we took his
contact and promised to be in touch. As he left, we laughed over the fact that he was still thinking of Biafra seceding via violence. That discussion made me embark on more research about the Biafra movement. I was to find out that the Radio Biafra my friend Celestine
had told me about had started gaining the attention of the public. I started asking random
people I met in Enugu bars about what they felt about the whole Biafra thing. Their response was
divergent. Many wanted Biafra, but a bloodless secession. Others wanted Biafra, and claimed to be ready for bloodshed too. The rest did not even want to hear of Biafra anymore.

Soon enough I was back in Lagos, although I had
my ears on the activities of Radio Biafra and the
Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) in Enugu and
other parts of the east. From what I was told, the
director and major broadcaster of the pirate radio, Nnamdi Kanu was busy feeding his listeners with hate speeches and vulgarity. I was also told that
he was spreading the propaganda of violence to
his listeners. I have a problem with this. I, for one have undertaken a long study of Adolf Hitler, who led the most successful "tribe/race based"
onslaught in history. One thing I learnt from Hitler was the power of sustained propaganda.
Now, Nnamdi Kanu has one of the most powerful propaganda medium ever –A RADIO STATION. But in my opinion, he is not spreading the right
propaganda. Inciting people towards violence when you live in the UK and hold British
citizenship is not a true revolutionary move. At
least that's not what I learnt from Mahatma Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela, not even Hitler. These men all led their
revolutions from the front, not from a remote location. I insisted that if Nnamdi Kanu was in anyway serious, he should leave the UK, return to
Nigeria and say those things he has been saying, so when he is picked up, his followers can
"Mandelarize" him.

Radio Biafra kept waxing strong until they caught the attention of the Muhammadu Buhari-led
Federal Government, who, in typical Buhari fashion began a clamp down on the station and
IPOB members.
In October 2015, I took a week to visit Enugu again. This time around, I had IPOB and Biafra as
one of the key reasons for this visit. Soon enough,
I had several meetings with members of IPOB.
Some were planned while some others happened by chance. We discussed at length, I needed to
know the direction the IPOB movement was going. From my findings, Kanu was still on the
same track. I was disappointed. But on the flip side, I was greatly impressed. I was impressed because he had succeeded in
planting the idea of ending this Royal Niger Company experiment, this Nigeria that has failed to live up to a quarter of its potential, as a result of a host of factors, including a host of factors (lol). I was impressed because Kanu had
succeeded in making people in the South East and South South realize that there is a possibility
for them to "leave." This is okay, but I do not agree with the propaganda that is foisting
marginalization as its primary argument and violence as its primary weapon. There is a greatly violent marginalisation happening in the Middle
Belt, but… let me hold that thought for another
day.

During my stay, I met with these IPOB people and
I saw the enthusiasm they had, but it was blind enthusiasm. They did not know of the
consequences of such an unplanned, violence
based secession. How not-so-good-an-idea such
a move would be from a diplomatic perspective.
And by diplomatic, I mean international relations.
More worrisome was the disdain the IPOB members and their sympathizers had for MASSOB
members and any Igbo indigene that refuses to tow their train of thought. That is wrong, from a
media perspective; it simply means your propaganda is not sinking in. Anytime I tell any
IPOB or MASSOB member that I'm from Aba, they get angrier and I laugh some more. I'm not
fanatic, I'm analytic biko.
Take the Buhari case as an example, I always ask
people why they never saw Buhari as this a saint
in 2003, 2007 and 2011? The answer is simple; a
well-orchestrated propaganda was stringed together within a couple of years.
In addition to this, Radio Biafra and IPOB are not putting into consideration the millions of Igbos and South South indigenes that are living outside
the "Biafran" territory. In plain English: Biafra is not a topic of popular discussion in many, many places in Nigeria. Again, Let me hold the thought
I had… But Kanu needs to reach out if he knows what he is doing… which I mostly doubt.

Going back to Lagos, my idea of the realisation of Biafra remained the same: Biafra is a good idea, but Biafra is very far from being ready. I told one
pro-Biafran friend of mine, "If Biafra is actualized without years of thorough planning, dem go fight the true true Biafra war within 6 months."

Not soon after I got back to Lagos, I heard that Nnamdi Kanu had returned to Nigerian and was arrested. I swallowed saliva. Things just got
interesting!

As I write this, Kanu is yet to be released, I read that his bail conditions are yet to be met or
something of that nature. There have been protests in Rivers, Delta, Enugu and Anambra
states. There have also been solidarity marches in several countries. But to what end?
I have since told people to leave me out of the Biafra argument, for now. Let us see how Kanu
and his cohorts plan to use the event of his arrest to the advantage of their cause. But, if I am to give Kanu just one advise, only one… I will advise
him to change the direction of the propaganda. Kanu should imagine the kind of global support the IPOB movement would have garnered if he
had continually pushed for a referendum. That's the kind of thing that would sell without
having to gain unnecessary enemies in the international community before his dream is even actualized.

No smart revolutionary goes to public domain to solicit multi-billion dollar funds to acquire weapons. I've listened to Kanu several times on Radio Biafra and watched a few video
clips. The young man is smart. But not smart enough in my opinion.

The wiser solution in my opinion is to go back to the drawing board and begin pushing the idea of a referendum. A referendum will have a large
majority of people from Southern origin voting in favour of secession.
In case Kanu is not aware.
Yoruba people are also getting very tired of the Fulanis.

But, what do I know?

IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LONG TO MAKE SENSE...

Sweethearts,

How are we today? How was church or mosque or shrine or nothing? I'm doing perfectly fine. I'm down on 4 beautiful glasses of palm wine and I'm bae! Oh... I forgot to mention that I'm spending my holidays in the village due to some assignments from the bro...

I went to church today as is customary in most parts of Nigeria and the world on Sundays. The church here is like village meeting. The choir kills my vibe with every dang song they sing.

Something happened today in church and I got really angry. On our way to church, a heavy rain started. There's usually an umbrella at the back of my dad's car so don't worry, I wasn't beaten by the rain. The rain already gave serious signs before anyi akwadosia church so my dad decided he wasn't going. My sister and I went alone. Mum went for uka 5:30. We got to church and I was already very cold. My sister was putting on a  blazer so she didn't feel anything.
Now, my parish priest in his full chasuble and regalia of priests spent more than one hour preaching while I was dying of cold and he was properly covered. Is this fair? I wouldn't know why he preaches that long but I've always believed that brevity and sense makes a speech wonderful.

I've always thought that a blogger has to write extremely long articles to be seen as a good but then, a second thought came... BREVITY + SENSE = GENIUS.

I give you an instance... On that day at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863, two men spoke; one for more than 2 hours & the other spoke just 272 words in 2 minutes.

I bet you don't know the guy that spoke for more than 2 hours. His name was Edward Everette. I was right, you didn't know him.

I bet you not only know the other guy but love him. Abraham Lincoln! I'm sure I'm correct.

Lincoln's 272-worded 2 minutes speech that has come down to us as the Gettysburg Address is the most famous & most quoted in US history. In fact, the first few lines are so profound that every American must memorize it in school. More interestingly, the definition of democracy you know as "government of the people, by the..." was drawn from that speech.

I'm sure you've got my point already. Brevity as much as simplicity is genius. But make sure you've got stuffs and sense in there.

Ngwa byeee!

BUT I SURVIVED

Dear KEB readers,

I've missed you all. If I say I haven't, then call me a liar. So many things have kept me to busy from writing to keep our blog going but... I'm back now.

To those of us who called me on the phone and sent chats to my WhatsApp and Facebook, asking me why KEB was seemingly quiet, I love you more than you can imagine. Thank you for checking up.

A friend and brother of mine-Pascal has decided to honour us with a story. He happens to be the first male guest blogger in KEB. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did.

Read, comment and share!

...It's all about survival; the world I mean. To live means to survive. We keep living and while we are at it, continue to survive.

I once had a serious crush on an acquaintance. After a couple of outings, I thought it would click... but, she was indifferent. Hmmm, I was not used to that, but, I had to wait. In my patience, she travelled abroad and I became inclined to stalking her via social media especially Facebook.

She was a happy girl, leading a happy life in a happy country, and I am in a horrible country, adding more stress to my already stressed up life. She posted pictures of her fun filled newfound life, while I stalked on, in dire penury of the heart.

One day, she wrote the caption "you have the key to your happiness..." on her status and though she didn't know, she was referring to me.

I've come to learn that. Why on earth should I be thinking of someone who doesn't give a damn about me?? Like magic, my mental configuration was reconfigured and I saw myself coming back to whom I should be. It happens always, but people don't want to survive. Or better put, they don't know how to survive. If by any stroke of chance or figment of imagination, you discover that you're not worth as much to him or her, my dear, convince yourself that you were happier even before they came into your life and you won't regret going back to the jolly days.

Days of mourning and grieving over lost "friends" should be over now. You are the master of your own fate. You will be happy, if you truly wanna be. But if you like suffer head... Goodluck!!!

For those of us still "booing" and "baeing" and "crushing," I pray you don't get booed or crushed while booing and crushing...

#lovemabaeshaa

Tell us your own experiences too.

Comment and share.

I love you all.

LUNCH TIME

Hi KEBies, how are you and yours? I had a near-perfect day and my body is doing me lovey lovey mushy mushy.

Today, the darlingnest of all my sisters in adoption, the very elegant Ebele Monye graced KEB. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

I sat for a while looking at the vehicles. The truth is, I imagined the vehicles as I really couldn't see any vehicles because they were behind the thick white walls of my Oga's office.
'Give me a few minutes', the 'co-worker' said.
I shrugged. I hadn't decided how I wanted to spend my break yet. I didn't want to have this impression, to be the girl that has lunch with the 'co-worker'. My sister had said 'be friendly with caution or you won't have any friends here'.  Maybe I am being too cautious.

'Ebele, give me small time abeg, I need to tidy up something'.
In reply, I mumbled.
I was quite skeptical. This was deifinitely being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I had heard of men who went for lunch with 'unassuming girls' and the girls were bathed with acid by their disgruntled wives. I didn't want that, I didn't want to be the unassuming girl...

... we were at the other side of the road now. At that mama put, the worst I've seen in my life. Two days ago, my first day here, I had eaten worms and salted tinned tomatoes in the name of rice and stew. The large pieces of meat stood like towers in the middle of the salted tinned tomatoes. I took a bite and held back vomit. I gulped down water and called the waiter... I should have known, N200 was being offered for 'paradise'... I sit watching, as he eats his planitain porridge. I can't stand the sight, I try not to have a distorted face. He keeps talking, I have muted his voice with my mind's power. The other workers on the other tables smirk. I know they think am the unassuming girl, but I am the girl who might not have lunch again hecause I don't want to be 'unassuming'.
 
We make our way to the office, small talks about the School on a hill (UNN). I teach him to not run across the road. 'You might trip and get hit by a trailer' I say. A sentence (which makes him laugh) to him, a sentence that is almost a wish to me. We get to the office and I settle down to have my meal of fruit salad, coke and two packets of cabin biscuit. I make the sign of the cross and heave, a sigh of relieve for being saved from prying eyes. Two more biscuits to go and she charges at me. 'So you are the new girl my husband spends lunchtime with' she says to me.

SO I GREW UP...

I'm the last in a family of 5. Nay! 8! I had a lovely childhood. The type of family one would term "ajebutter" (denoting comfort) in Nigeria. My father was a School Administrator and my mother a teacher and later Headmistress. My father was at some point a journalist/broadcaster – speaking TIV language on the radio during the civil war and was also on and off politics... He told me stories of how he contested and won the NPN party nomination (primaries) for the chairmanship elections of Nsukka Local Government, but couldn't take up realize his dreams due to military incursion. He had held many offices in the PDP before he became a traditional ruler... (Igwe in Igbo). My dad is 75 and counting. My mum who later went into small-scale business on retirement is 10 years younger than my dad. My parents are disciplinarians and homemakers.

I read a lot of novels as a child. My mum always brought them from the school library or bought them. And so, in primary school, I was writing letters to my siblings in school and to my brother in Lagos. This early habit of mine has continued to shape and reshape my worldview. Perhaps accounting for my interest in writing and keeping track of my growing up. My father loves to read! He can pass for a carnivorous reader! Sometimes, he revisits old newspapers just to read and I remember asking him why he loves reading stale news and he responded "there is always something new to learn". Lots of wisdom you would imagine! I copied that! 

I used to be terribly "hot headed" as a child that when people see me now, they wonder if I'm still the one. I've always been outdoorsy and free. Though my parents were disciplinarians, I didn't have such ugly stories of how I was flogged and flogged and flogged to become useful. Being the last, I was shown tender care and love and I was spanked when there was extreme need to. My dad and mum and even siblings were good with the cane... Slapping me however, was a sin in my house. In fact, because of the ear problem I had, no one would dare do that. I have a family full of laughter and love. We protected our own with a whole lot of jealousy.

I have uncles and aunts – some late and some still alive, but we didn't have such luxury as going for holidays in their houses... Holidays were spent at home and we'd basically attend holiday lessons. This went on until my brother became stable and we could go for holidays at his house in Lagos and Accra and also at my sister's in Lagos and Enugu. We were just contented with whatever we had and my dad NEVER wanted to be a burden to anyone... However, the case wasn't same in our house as my dad would harbour cousins and distant relatives and also train them in school. His home was so habitable and open to all. This gesture earned him his traditional title "Ochiliozua" (Igbo for: A person who gathers all, nurtures and trains). Sometimes, my dad in a bid to please everyone spends beyond his pockets and I could hear him argue with my mum on how he got broke because he wasn't prudent.

Our house is surrounded by different species of beautiful flowers, which my dad always took care of and later on Ike my cousin took over the job. What my father is not very  flexible with are the oranges in our compound. It seemed more like he counted them and gave them numbers and you dare not touch it ahead of the appointed harvesting time.

My parents and siblings are all university graduates. This hasn't however, changed or affected the unity we share in our family. We had slangs that made us laugh... Slangs like wururu, Agu owuru, reporter no book" and the rest of them... I didn't get to spend so much time with my brothers and as a result, I was a kind of an "only son". I lost my most intelligent brother and one of my sisters to sickle cell Anaemia while in Primary school. I've come to love sicklers even more for this reason. Nkem Azinge is my closest sickler friend and I hope to visit her whenever I'm in the US. I met Nkem on Facebook. In fact, some of my most valuable friendships were made on Facebook.

My eldest sibling (Chukwuemeka) is 20 years older than I am. He was already in the university at the time of my birth and later on left to Lagos for service and work and life! So, I basically spent more time with sisters than brothers. I therefore mastered the art and science of cooking and make-ups and female fashion and hairstyles as a result. Because of the age spacing in my family, my brother also spent enough time with my mum and therefore is about the best cook in my family.

My house "bu" (is) a home for all. Many seminarians who have turned priests spent their apostolic work days in our house. A very prominent person amongst them is Rev. Fr. George Abah. My experience with him will be a story for another day.

I wasn't pampered in such a way that I became spoilt. I was flogged when there was need to. I remember mimicking a visitor and the beating I got was close to that which you see acted in Nollywood. I remember disciplinary actions taken when I was tending towards nzuzu (stupidity in Igbo). My mum would sing such songs like "Iga enweg ekwa gbar' oto" (Nsukka for: if you don't have clothes, go naked) when we'd prepare for occasions and I'd tell her I don't have clothes to wear.

My eldest sister was a nightmare! She would pet me when she comes back from UNN in those days. She called me "daddy mo" (my daddy). However, after lunch everyday, she'd say "labaa je k'me ura eshushue" (go in and take your siesta). I so much hated siesta and this was why she was a nightmare. My other sisters didn't like the name "daddy mo." They were somewhat jealous and would wait till Enjay (my eldest sister) goes back to school so that they can "deal" with me... Mana, a guy cannot guy a guyoyo! I always had a way of becoming their friend before Enjay left for school.

I have an aunt we call "Mama Nwachukwu." She lives in Nsukka. A very nice woman with a great mien. Sometimes she makes stew and sends for me to put in my freezer in school and use it for rice and spaghetti and yam. The stew is usually enough to last for over one week.

I had an experience with Uzo my late sister once... You remember power chewing gum? The one that had some kind of tattoo that comes with it? Eheee! It put me in trouble once. Chewing gum was a crime in my house. There were also words on the streets that power chewing gum was occultic and all... And so, on this day, on my way back from Catechism class, I had money with me so I bought power chewing gum and the tattoo on it was the picture of a naked white girl. I placed it on my body and when I got home, Uzo knelt me down and gave me the flogging of my life... After which she washed it off and gave me a bath.

My late brother Tony was a no nonsense person. He didn't joke with his books. On an occasion, I tore a page of his novel... He spanked me and later bribed me with corn flakes and milk... He knew I loved it so, I didn't complain. He always called me "PC" and "SC" which meant problem child and stubborn child. Loooooool! He died just when he got admission into the university. He was my most intelligent sibling.

When Uzo my late sister was travelling to the north, (my other sisters were in the boarding school, my eldest brother in Lagos and my late brother in the boarding too), seeing how lonely I was going to be, she said "Kizzie, onye b m ji ed'ten g ne Nska mem je be Mama Nwachukwu ge g ne nya nota? Ike se Chigozie?" (Nsukka for: Kizzie, who will I bring to stay with you when I go to Mama Nwachukwu's house in Nsukka? Ike or Chigozie?) I chose Ike cuz the name Chigozie seemed long. Loooool! (Uzoamaka's name is one of the reasons why I'm close to Uzoamaka Aniunoh-a friend from Facebook)

Ike's visit was meant to be for a while. But, he's lived with us for over 15 years and has become part of my family. In fact, during one of our holiday lessons in Lagos, he was registered as "Ikechukwu Eze" instead of Uwakwe his surname.

Ike is in the higher institution now.

I had very funny classmates in primary school. It was competitive and also full of childish hatred. Some had issues with me coming tops at the end of the term. Others had issues with my family background. Most of them are jolly good fellows however and I miss them.

I heard so many stories as a child. How my brother would drive my father's Volkswagen and then sweep the tyre marks to avoid trouble. I remember having issues with my brother for driving his Camry while in SS1. That Camry is more or less my own today! I'm sure he'd laugh when he sees this.

I've had rare opportunities. Some of my mates haven't entered a plane or travelled out of the country or even driven a car. I have done all these.

My brother's wife is Auntie Nonye... I call her Auntie. She's such a darling. She used to be my wife when she was dating my brother. Loooooool! Auntie is very nice and disciplined. She'd call me to the parlour in Lagos to come and gist her... When I say "on what," she'd say "on just anything." She speaks good English and has an accent you can die for. She's very beautiful. I also have nieces... Nenye and Muna. I became an Uncle in SS1.

My mum had a brother we called Papa Okpuhu. (His house was called Okpuhu). He used to be the Vice Chairman of Nsukka local government. There isn't much to say about Okpuhu. We basically went there to pluck and eat Guava whenever we were around.

I'm good at keeping friends. I've lost some over the years but they are basically those who their spirits and mine weren't going the same direction. They either couldn't understand me or I couldn't understand them. Some expected just too much from me and I failed them. I got tired of drama from some and I kept my distance. The greatest attraction to me as a way of making friends is having "SENSE." Ofure Omo-Ataga understands this.

My best friend is Chidera Ugwuanyi. He's from my place. We've been friends since childhood. This young man knows my every step and I know his too. He's practically a part of me and he has "SENSE." He's the only one that understands when I say things like "we'll travel." We have so many blue prints of how we'll make money and if they work out, we'll be millionaires before 25.

Obasi Michael is also a friend. He also has "SENSE." He's the CEO of MickemClothings. I learn a lot from him and he's been a good accolade.

I've got just so many acquaintances but there are "FRIENDS" who have "SENSE."

I have a host of friends turned family. I'd mention the ones I can remember... Ebele Monye, Jaeceekah Okechukwu, Ayebaboumobara Daw, Chidera Omeje, Cornel Ndubisi, Andrea, Chioma Akpuru, Sonia Nzekwe, Maame Esi Ackom Gyedu, Andriana Agymang, Kamtochukwu Anene-Udeh, Stanley Ebubechukwu Defokwu, Nnaemeka Frank Akpa, Nnanna Didiugwu, Chisom Obi, Ricky Joe Odili, Ernest Nweke, Solomon Eze, Ozoemena Noel, Obinna Udeh, Josephine Ifunanya Nwodo, Ndidi Chukwuike, Chimdindu Nwobodo, Stella Okoye, Vitalis Azidiegwu, Pascal Okoyeocha, Ebuka Onunkwo, Joseph, Okey, Class of 2012 (SWSS), Eco 017, Aspire Daily friends, Eha-Alumona Students' union, Noble Icons International, Rotaract Club of UNN, Catholic Students' Choir, NESA UNN, CASSSITES, APEXITES, HRF friends amongst others...

Families like Abugu Chiamaka, Udy Nwajiaku, Ikenna Nwafor, Desh Okolocha, Yugee Atudume, Ella Iwongo, Chizube, Chizzy and Chisim Idoko, Chiamaka Ugwulali, Chisom... The list is endless!

Afriyie Boafo, Afoma Ozulu, Chinemerem Irene Ndubisi, Chioma Azike... are all darlings to me.

I wrote love letters as a kid! Lmao! I remember my sisters seeing one and threatening to show it to my brother and parents. I died and woke up.

I met my parents old. And so, I didn't even receive as much discipline as my older siblings did. I also met rich parents. My siblings were born to a "just ok" parents.

I'm thankful for who I have become today. Role models, priests, cousins, uncles, aunts, extended family, friends and colleagues, acquaintances among others have helped shape me into who I have become.

I thank Edna Eze for the inspiration to write this.