My Interview with Bin Laden's soul

My Interview with Osama Bin Ladin's Soul CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen. I was granted a sole interview of global urgency hours after The US Special Forces of Naval seals shot Osama Bin Ladin on the night of May 1st 2011 in Pakistan. The man on the world's most wanted list for over 12 years and with a price of twenty five million US dollars. A Saudi man born in 1953 and graduated with a degree in Electrical engineering in 1979. He formed Al Qaeda in 1988 and was expelled by the Saudi authorities in 1991. The next you will read are the words of the greatest terrorist of all times. “As you can see I have outlived my live and it is unfortunate I had to die in the way I died. Now my soul has seen all the vain I have lived. I lived a life of terror and caused grief to the globe. But what do you expect from a person who has 51 other siblings? The family which is the nucleus of the society was missing for me from day one. If the optimum number of children to a man is pegged at 5, my family would have needed 10 fathers to effective take care of our needs. It takes more than financial resources to take care of a family. Money was not our father's problem nor was it ours but the emotional connection was not there.” “Though suicide bombers were our valuable assets, we only succeeded in brainwashing them that they would go to heaven. As you can see there is no heaven for them and that was why I never used my children for suicide attacks.” “You asked why I chose to exchange my degree in civil engineering for terror engineering. I wish I had the perfect answer but I would only be a coward to blame the Americans or the Israelis for the occupation of Palestine. I would only be spineless to agree it was the devil who tricked me; the question is not why I allowed him to recruit my mind but why I became so gullible.” “Of course the cold war contributed to all of these. If the Soviets had not invaded Afghanistan I would not have joined the resistance force there and the CIA will not have trained me if the west was not at war with communism. It was however cruel to have killed in God's name or whosever's name.” “You think I feel any compunction after all the lives we took? What pains my soul the most is the souls we deceived. Innocent people we killed but more worrisome is the hitherto harmless people we turned into murders, suicide bombers and extremists. The world has known more hate than love and much blood has been spilled.” “I have only come to realize that man can not fight for God. God is not handicapped so why would man fight in the name of God? The God who created all things definitely has the wherewithal to defend himself, but why and how will God even come under attack in the first place” “My greatest regret is that it took so long to kill me, in these years before and after I became the most wanted man and the face of terror, I have manufactured and exported so much terror across the globe. Forming Al Qaeda in 1988 was one of the worst achievements the underworld ever had; having operations in over 60 countries is our greatest failure, because the world can never be the same again.” “Of course poverty contributed in our successful recruitments of volunteers and turning millions around the world into fundamentalists. I appreciated wealth and affluence which is evident from my million dollar mansion that I was killed in. Education frees the mind and would have helped to dispel our influence over those innocent people we conscripted. That is why in many cases we made it inaccessible for them so we could maintain a hold on them through their ignorance.” “Hitler was killed or disappeared on May 1st 1945; I was killed on May 1st 2011,I am sad because I was killed late, late enough to have caused so much global terror and to have trained other terrorists who will now struggle to take over me and create more havoc but better late than never. If I was not killed I won't have seen the heaven I worked so hard to miss; now the gates of hell are opening and Lucifer is smiling because if the devil ever created a human it must have been me . I just wish for their good; my followers will see the futility of our actions and turn a new leaf” I hope you enjoyed this very incisive interview; it took an Obama to kill an Osama. Shot in the head and buried at sea. Thank you. Powered by CredoWorld Media.

Salute to soldiers in task force

Wakdok: Salute to soldiers in task force
I HAVE a constituency that may not really show on the surface, but it is at the core of my survival today. In short, it defines my greatest manifestation as a human being. Along the line, I allowed it to grey out of my loud existence and I seldom make reference to it in the public like this unless, when I chastised them for erring; but sometime in November 2012, I had an encounter and I knew I was going to write this.
In the course of the year on “cyberia” (apologies to Prof. Pius), someone whom I had not met contacted me to help with the part review and editing of his book. We belonged to the same primary constituency though I had moved on and the tradition even if unwritten, is that the juniors know the seniors and the seniors do not necessarily have to know or remember their juniors. He was five years my junior which made the gulf too wide. As a matter of fact, I had never seen or remember seeing him when we were in school. The most regimented secondary school in Africa if I am correct, it will take one who passed through it to appreciate what I am saying or even not saying.
As a commentator, I have always critiqued the government and its agencies in their below the average handling of the quality and security of lives and property in Nigeria. The act of governance has always fallen short of our expectation and sometimes; we also see the roles that the military as an institution plays whether as positive or non-positive in the sustenance of our defense and security as a nation and as a people. Ordinarily if not for the failure of successive government both military and democratic to equip and reposition the Nigeria Police, the military has no business in internal security. The main mandate of the military is to protect the territorial integrity of its nation and repel any form of external aggression. However in Africa, things are not so especially with the long sojourn of the military in power.
I travelled to Jos with my family in November and after months of communicating on Facebook and the GSM; I informed this military officer that I would be in Jos for three days. Tight as my schedule would be, I was going to squeeze a chance and it was the only appointment I made outside my primary reason of travelling. He is on the team of the Special Task Force (STF) in Jos to bring back sanity to a town once acclaimed as the home of peace and tourism, which for over a decade now has the semblance of war torn Kosovo. Coincidentally too, his area of operations was within the reach of where I was to put up while in Jos. A day after I arrived in Jos, he quickly came to see me and we saw for the first time, at least for me I was seeing him for the first time since he may have seen me 16 years ago when I was a lord and he was a crab as the military parlance goes. As God would have it, his wife came to see a family friend within that same vicinity and when he placed a call to her, she told him she was just in the street before mine and that was how she and their son came to meet us.
The son definitely had not seen his daddy for a while though he was lucky that his daddy’s area of operations was in the same town where they lived, unlike some who are in different states or regions. The mum tried to make me understand that the boy was angry with his dad for bailing out on him. But his dad, as an Air Force officer has been called to duty, while we all sleep and snore he and his compatriots are awake to protect us. Then I looked at my son who sees me every day and will not allow me take a step without him; and my wife who always gets sober/angry each time I had to travel without them, few as these may be.
That was when I tried to quantify or even qualify the sacrifices of these men and women who mount tanks, steer ships/speed boats, fly choppers, hold guns, sleep in tents, stand on the roads in rain or shine. The members of the Nigerian Armed Forces and Police have not found it easy, especially in the last two decades. Though it is the calling they have chosen, they have made tremendous sacrifices for us to sleep even if with one eye open. If you understood the rules of engagement properly, it is better to fight against an enemy’s army than to fight against insurgency from your own citizens. They have had to live for months or years away from their loved ones in strange towns, cities and villages because we civilians have chosen not to live in peace. Some people may try to murmur as they read this especially with reference to episodes where the military were said to be culpable in some unprofessional acts. Be that as it may, the few bad ones are no where near the many good ones who are roughing it out there in the cold or heat to keep us secured. And the repercussion of having no soldiers at all to protect us will be worse than disastrous.
The few minutes we spent with this family touched me and gradually, the boy loosened up and played with my son. I knew that my family and families of many of us owe this family and the families of many other service men some words of prayer. We should appreciate both the servicemen and women who stand for us to sit, who sit for us to lie down and who run for us to walk, who shoot for us to live. We should also appreciate their families who gave them to the nation to serve; and their spouses and children who do not have the luxury of physically saying good morning and good night every day.
As I try to remember some lines of “The Soldiers ‘Creed” we recited almost two decades ago on the parade ground, I dedicate it to you all my seniors, class-mates, juniors from the Nigerian Military School and all other officers and men all over the country;
“My Honour is my faith
I vow my faith to Nigeria
The supremacy of the constitution
When ever the clarion calls
What ever the price or odds
My faith is one and ever
To the Federal Republic of Nigeria.”
I write this piece for all the children and spouses of these service men and women. I appreciate you all from Maiduguri to Damaturu, Jos to Kano, Bauchi to Kaduna, Warri to Brass, Taraba to Mubi, Enugu to Port Harcourt, Benin to Okene and pray for you today and always.

The Manifest of a Credo-butter

The Manifest of a Credo-butter. CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen. My dad is a very funny dude, or so I think. He tells me that he doesnt know what it takes to be or see an ajebutter until he went to secondary school. My dad says he doesn't call his father daddy, they call him baba and call his mum, mama. But our generation churns out ajebutters like minutes on the clock while we call our fathers, daddy. I sit laughing at this man who says the sweetest boy on earth calls him daddy. Even I, a toddler knows I am an ajebutter , how can he say he only met ajebutters when he enrolled into secondary as a teenager? I try to argue with my dad that all kids born are ajebutters, so he too is one when he was a kid. He stares at me and laughs his mischievous smile, the one that makes the ladies lose their cool or so he says. He tells me that when he is my age, he doesn't even know a word in English and here I am composing sentences. My dad enters school at the age of six while I before two years. My daddy describes how they write on slate and we use a board, electronic board with music to learn the alphabets. While they call it biro, my dad is contrasting that we call it pen. He dares me if I have seen or held charcoal? They write on walls during their time with charcoal before graduating to pencil. You see why I laugh and call him funny? What is a charcoal I asked? It is got from burnt fire wood used for cooking. So if I wait on mummy when she heats my bathing water will I see charcoal? My dad looks at me and smiles before saying no. Charcoal can not come out of gas cooker or microwave. That is why I call you an ajebutter generation. I heard my mum telling aunty Bose to check the wee-wee in my pampers and my dad laughs. He says there were no pampers during their time and only a few were lucky to wear napkin. I get confused because I don't know what a napkin is and I imagine how they run around without pampers. If you wet your bed at night you carry your mattrass to sun it the next day, he is sorry at my confusion and corrects himself with the word foam.  My mum just opened my bottled water but daddy said  they drank tap water. However since the supply of pipe borne water is erratic or dysfunctional as such we the children of this age have to become ajebutters by drinking treated water. My dad doesn't see a generator at my age. He first sees a generator at the age of seven when they visit an uncle who lives in a new settlement that is not connected to the power grid at all. NEPA hardly blacked out like now, I even know how to start a gen, mentally. Sometimes I run to change over from PHCN to generator but for my height. Practice makes one perfect. I am struggling with mummy who wants to watch BBA while I am trying to watch my favorite disney junior's Mickey mouse club house. My dad and his siblings will wait till 4 pm before the black and white television comes on with the rainbow colours. After which the national anthem plays before they watch sesame street. We watch LED or LCD, they watched NTA, we watch DSTV. I can dial a call, receive a call and even browse , this to my dad is pure beatification of an ajebttuter. Telephones were seen by a select few and owned by fewer privileged few. The poor couldn't afford a telephone line. My dad sees more telephone poles and cables as a kid without seeing any telephone set, while I have seen different types of handsets without seeing a single telephone wire.  I have toys, Teddy bears and games and want more. My dad says I am lucky if not I would have been cooking and eating sand in the backyard with children from other rooms in the yard. Yard? What is a yard? He tries to describe it as a compound with many rooms occupied by different families which share common kitchen and toilets. They go out in the rain to poo poo, and their mothers run inside the rain to the kitchen to cook food else the children will cry of hunger. I see mummy turning the stew in the pot from where I sit, but a kitchen is in the same building. Daddy and other kids plant corn and beans in the backyard watering the seeds to germinate and sprout leaves, but that dirties them. I still look clean in my jeans because of the interlocking tiles in our compound. Mummy comes fuming and shouting my name; Salvadorrrrrrrrrrrr! She is angry that I have scattered my wardrobe and she warns me that if she arranges it this time, I must be careful. I get pissed and ask my dad if his mum always disturbs him about his wardrobe? I do not have a wardrobe, we hit two nails in the corner of the room and tie rope to both ends, then hang our clothes. We get hangers to hang the Sunday clothes after ironing them. I get confused , what is this man saying?  I want the gateman to hurry up and open the gate, but daddy's yard has no gate, security was not a big deal during their growing days. They are free to come in and go out without  tall fences and heavy padlocks. I can even turn the steering of a car and honk the horn, daddy can not remember touching a car unless when he is taken into a taxi or a bus. They walk to the church and climb moving vehicles like pick-up vans on their way or back from school. Daddy says fuel is expensive as we drive into the fillin station to refuel. My dad as a kid does not recall entering a filling station, I am eyeing the burger in the fast food inside the filling station as  I tell daddy to redeem his promise of buying me an apple on his way from the airport. He shouts that they eat mango which falls off the trees or wait for special days that his baba will bring oranges. Can I see that I even know what an apple is before my third birthday? He never saw his dad off to the airport because there were good roads to travel on or trains to enter. Daddy blames the systemic failure for the rate at which ajebutters are born. Power failure is why I know a generator at this age, I drink bottled water because the taps do not just rush any more. I eat apple because all the mango plantations or orchards have become plazas or supermarkets. I watch DSTV because daddy says NTA is a government propaganda channel. We go to school at a very early age because that is trend or our mums have to work to support the home. Insecurity forces us indoors and we can not play freely on the street, so we get compensated by toys, games and bicycles.  Daddy pauses and I see the pains in his face, he tells me for every inch an ajebutter I am, it costs him money. His salary is not increasing proportionately as does the cost of fuel for the generator. The bills for DSTV, the electricity tariff, the guard man's salary, my school fees since government schools are comatose. For all those things that make me feel I am an ajebutter, daddy pays more and his pay check dwindles. He has to provide these and more for me to laugh at him calling myself an ajebutter. After paying tax, the government is not doing enough to provide security, infrastructure, education, social services, health and even conducive business environment. They have to pay the landlords so much money for us to live in our detached or semi detached bungalows so we dont get wet on our way to the loo when it is raining. Corruption does not allow regulators to do their work and as such MTN can exploit workers in Jos through their contract firm and multichoice can increase rates as they wish. My daddy like many other daddies have to provide all at exorbitant prices for us who call our selves ajebutters. I now know that my dad is no more the funny dude I say he is, I see the sobriety in him and I understand that not all of us are ajebutters but Nigeria has made us so, and with it comes financial implications for our parents who strive harder to make us live decently. It took me more than two years after writing my "Diary of a Credo Kid" to write my manifest, but my dad says I do well because he wrote his first letter at the age of eight. I look at my dad and he pulls my cheeks, kisses my forehead and mocks at me for calling myself an ajebutter. My dad says if I try harder I will become a good writer, I say I want to be better since he is good already. My dad who calls his own dad baba, laughs and blew me my favorite kiss. There is a big difference between theirs and ours, but I am glad he makes so much sacrifices to make me the ajebutter he is not, or was not. I tell my dad I can't wait to have a second look at their yard sorry compound when next we visit Baba, I love it there because we go to the road to play with other kids unlike here where we are always inside. It is not always fun to be an ajebutter and after listening to daddy today, it is not cheap either. Powered by CredoWorld Media.  www.Credoworld.blogspot.com

The Career Planning Debate

The Jonathan Presibombcy

"The Jonathan Presibomcy" CredoWriters:Wakdok, Samuel Stephen. No matter the highs or lows that Jonathan's tenure as the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria may score, posterity and eventually history will remember it for one thing; the era which ushered in bombs and bombings into the Nigerian mainstream. There may have been isolated cases of bombings in the country before the advent of his administration like the letter bomb which killed Dele Giwa during Babangida's junta or the scattered alleged NADECO bombs which eventually showed the imprints of General Abacha's hit men just to mention a few. The height of it was the October 1st 2010 Independence day bombing blamed on the Niger Delta MEND. The dimension assumed an alarming rate when boko harram took the campaign of bombings from Maiduguri to the Police Headquarters in Abuja, The UN building in Abuja, the Christmas day catholic church bombing in Madalla and other states, the Kano mulitple bombings, the bombing of markets and even school. And just recently Gombe. This is not forgetting Bauchi, Yobe, Kaduna, Jos, Niger, Adamawa among others. The attacks on not only police stations but military barracks and installations in Abuja, Bauchi and Kaduna has made the picture very scary. A brief analysis will show that Nigeria as at press time has the highest number of bombs going off in terms of frequency. Not even in Iraq, Pakistan or Afghanistan do bombs go off at such an alarming frequency. When the bombings started, the government talked tough and did little to the extent many believed the President and/ or his spokesmen had a template ready to respond to the next bombing. Life especially in the North has become very dangerous and uncomfortable. Security check points have turned travelers and other road users into objects of stop and search. Churches which have become major targets now screen would be worshippers, schools, hotels, banks and other places have stepped up searches mostly manual which have resulted into massive hold ups,time wasting and are very inconveniencing. Jonathan as an individual or President is not directly responsible for the advent of bombings in Nigeria since most of the issues preceeded his ascension to power, but his handling of the bomb crises especially in the early stage will be in focus when history judges his regime. As such his ability to succeed or his failure in arresting this ugly development will make or mar him. Unfortunately, as Nigerians live in fear of bombings by a radical extremist fundamentalist group whose motive for Islamist agenda is brazen, Nigerians are also forced to face economic bombs from a regime that once signalled hope if the promise of Fresh Air was to be taken seriously. The inhuman manner the regime attempted to fully deregulate fuel and the manner albeit arrogance in which the fuel subsidy protest was handled was another bomb. The lies and whitewash that followed in the name of palliatives or the SURE program which was never meant to be but was just hurriedly put up to deceive angry Nigerians was yet another bomb. The deployment of troops in a peaceful Lagos against harmless civilians whose only sin was daring to organize peaceful rallies to protest the hike in fuel price was another bomb. The rot in the petroleum sector which the government has not shown serious sign of tackling but chose to pass the bulk to consumers is a big bomb. The President has proven his critics right by now accepting and announcing that the SURE program can no longer work. The questions begging for answers was why the hurry in buying buses as palliatives when negotiations had not been concluded. How much of inflation will the buses have reduced? Will the government not provide infrastructure if there were no savings from subsidy? What of the cost of living which has spiraled since the hike in fuel price. How many Nigerians know that the price of Gas and Diesel which are not subsidized increased because fuel was increased. The effect of the bombings will be worse if Jonathan scores more lows in other areas and will be less if he scores more highs. Unfortunately his promises of fresh air has not materialized and business has gone on as usual for corrupt politicians and their cronies. The recent release by the National Bureau of Statistics which shows a jump in the level of poverty from 54% in 2004 to over 70 % in 2011 is disturbing. What this means is that Nigeria is losing the gains it made rather than consolidate. This clearly tells that despite the rise in government revenue as indicated in the quantity of crude oil and price of crude , despite the radical increase in the collection of taxes, and with increased collection of custom and excise duties, Nigerians must have been short changed by a corrupt ruling class. How else can we explain the relationship between increase in government revenue and sharp increase in poverty level. These two relationship ought not to be positive,because it is expected that as government revenue soars, investment in basic and business activities will boom which will stimulate growth and development. Unfortunately Nigeria's growth is only on paper,while the people are getting poorer. Even the working class are getting poorer because the cost of good and services are increasing faster than their level of income. This is made worse because the few corrupt individuals who have unlimited access to the public wealth unleash their stolen wealth into the same market to compete for products with the average and poor Nigerians. An increase in the supply of money naturally raises costs of goods and services but because the increase in money supply is skewed to only a few, it leaves the majority of people in poorer state since they can not command enough purchasing power. The greatest bomb may come ahead of the 2015 if Jonathan eats his words and decides to run for a second term in office. Though he has the constitutional right to vie for the presidency he has lost the moral right when he gave his words that he will only run for one term.Not that his words matter to some people any more since he has failed to live up to some of them in so short a time. Jonathan must review his actions, utterances and get his acts together. It is not too late for him to turn from the path of a politician and chart the course of a statesman. History may forgive him if he fails but history may never forget him as one who was given an opportunity to turn around the fortune of the country but chose to serve the selfish agenda of a rotten few who have drained the nation of its life. Facing bombs from both terrorists and government is a cross to much for Nigerians to bear. Jonathan can choose to give us flowers or join those who bomb innocent women,children in the name of a lost cause. His handling of the boko harram menace, his management of the economic problems of the country and eventually his ability to resist or his temptation to aim for the number one job in 2015 (after he said he will not) will be the yardstick for evaluating his presidency or Presibombcy. T

The Religious Divide

CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen   Religious fundamentalism and extremism are not new phenomena; it is only the rise in globalization and integration of the world that has made the effects of religious extremism more pronounced. The media, whether conventional or social has helped to hype activities of religious based terror groups and this has driven fear into the hearts of millions. This has helped to prosecute the war of these terror groups, for the very objective of terror is to create and instill fear, fear and more fear. However, the rise in religious terrorism and its unconventional means of warfare is not the primary purpose of this write up. The religious divide here in talked about is that of the gulf between rituals (tradition) and spirituality in the same religion.  Religion is made up of traditions which have been passed down over the ages and spirituality which is at the heart of religious practices. These traditions have become rituals over the years. There is no denying the fact that traditions or rituals have helped to shape religions in no little ways. However, promoting these traditions/rituals far and above the spirituality of the religion by those who practice the religion has led to my definition of religious divide. Consequently, religious divide is not the growing discontent or suspicion between or among different religions but a widening variation between the rituals and true spirituality of the same religion. In Christianity, a lot of Catholics rush to church on Ash Wednesday only to receive ashes, many walk out immediately they receive it. Some may be in a hurry to go to work; others may not even have anywhere to go to. It is good to squeeze time and receive the ash which is only once in a year, yet the importance attached to the ritual of ash taking supersedes the very essence of Ash Wednesday in most cases. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of lent and lent is a period of repentance and charity; but many of us only think of the ash which is an outward symbol to carry our identities as Catholics on our forehead. The crux of Christianity which is love evident in reconciliation and charity is relegated. The ash is a ritual; prayers, penance and charity are spiritual. The more we admire the ash and down play prayer, penance or charity, the greater the religious divide. Many Christians pray in the ritual of speaking in tongues just for the sake of it without connecting to its spiritual manifestation in any way. During Ramadan some few years ago, I boarded a commercial motor cycle and another motor cycle rider roughly crossed our front. The rider carrying me insulted the one at fault and told him to count himself lucky because he, the one carrying me was still fasting. Now what use is the fast, if we insult or see the fast as an obstacle to stopping us from fighting rather than as a change of attitude? The fast in this case is a ritual, living by example or tolerance is spirituality. I am not advocating a departure from the rituals or traditions of our religions, but by closing the gap and elevating our spirituality to or beyond the pinnacle which we have taken our religious rituals to; we would have bridged the religious divide. Each time we close the gap between the religious divide in our own faith, we are practicing what we preach. If we truly believe in what we preach, and then practice what we preach, we will be more spiritual than religious and the world will be a better place. The rise in religious extremism and fundamentalism stems from this very religious divide. If adherents of any religion concentrated on been spiritual rather than ritualistic, no one will kill in the name of religion. No one will insist on carrying out terror activities and force another to adhere to his or her own religious tradition. Religious divide is harmful to both the individual and the society, harmful to both we who believe in that very religion and those who do not believe in our religion.

Garlic ,Chicken and Love

CredoWriters: Wakdok, Samuel Stephen

... Luv Skool Stories with the Principal.

I met a beautiful lady in my second year in the university shortly after we resumed from a strike that punctuated academic activities. One of My friends introduced me to her and within two weeks of our pioneer meeting we kept bumping into each other in different places on campus. I got to know that she was a third year student of Law while I was a mass communication student.

On a faithful Tuesday morning she came to the boys' hostel to collect notes from one of her course mates and saw me brushing my teeth on the verandah of my second floor. We exchanged warm greetings and I informed her that my birthday was the next day. I had planned to host my friends to a dinner and I had a large number of friends, she was invited any way and she obliged to be present.

My birthday came and it was fun to gather all the friends who could make it. My room was more like a hall in the hostel with friends always coming in and going out. When Jennifer arrived , all heads turned to see the model who came in.

The room party was thrilling, we caught some fun, ate and drank and I got some pleasant surprises from friends. When the crowd started retiring at about 11 pm, I managed to walk some to the door since I had a lot of guests. My two room mates also helped me to walk some, but when Jeny wanted to leave, I had no choice but to walk her all the way to her room in the female block of the hostels. On the way we chatted and even held hands and we got so acquainted as if we had known for a longer period of time. When we got to her door she wanted to me step in but I declined since I left others in the room. I thanked her for coming and left.

Two days later I had cause to go and visit my fulani course mate Aisha in the female block who coincidentally stays opposite Jennifer. Aisha was one of my closiest friends in school and I could visit her without notice, she was not in so I decided to say a quick hi to Jennifer. When I entered we got gisting and she was so lively that I didn't know when an hour had passed.

We talked about so many things and started talking about ourselves. I told her I was sure she had a prince charming especially with her beauty. She blushed and asked me who told me. I went further to ask her many questions in the negative which put her on the defensive. Finally I told her that if I asked her to date me she would decline and she said " No , I wont decline". That begun a very romantic relationship that will transform two people to become one.

We went every where and did everything on campus as a couple. Jenny as I fondly called her was a sweet lady. I was not always bouyant but she did not care. They little we had we shared, but there was only one snag, Jenny loved kissing and I loved kissing too. But while Jenny could not do without garlic , I hated garlic with a passion.

Garlic ,Chicken and Love II

How could I be head over heels in love and not kiss the lady whose sweetness has exuded so much passion ? How will I kiss when the smell of garlic hangs so thick in the air, in the breath of my lover? Jenny had a choice to do away with me or with garlic, she chose the middle road of keeping me and reducing the quantity and frequency of the garlic she ate. She only eats it when she is sure we won't see or puts just a very little amount. But garlic has a strong smell, it can last for a while. But love meets the lover half way, as long as I love Jenny, I must also learn to accept what she likes, or hate it less.

Sometimes the pressure of academics makes it difficult to see Jenny, we were on two different campus and and though we could see in the hostel sometimes we spent a day or two without seeing. Some days the crunch of poverty bit harder and hunger comes handy. This was one of these days that Jenny came from her auntie's home. She prepared dinner , of rice and stewed chicken. It is not everyday that students cook full chicken and for sure Jenny took her time to prepare a delicious meal. As I walked into her room that Monday evening, I knew what hunger did to me during the day. Now I had an opportunity to not only take a jibe at hunger but to take some hard bites at this chicken. Jenny was all smile, she was sure I would leak my fingers from the aroma in the room and the way I reacted right from the door. Jenny loved me and I loved her too. We both love to talk and smile and roll over her foam on the ground, it helps to know that the spring bed which makes so much noise when lovers hibernate was not present in her room, there is just a plank partitioning the rooms and a curious neighbor will keep herself busy counting the number of creaks the bed makes.

She had not eaten,waiting to share the meal with the man she loves. I kissed her and told her how busy my day was. We had a test which was going to take up 30 marks of our assignment and the lecturer only set one question. One question carrying 30 marks was a kind of assessment we all dreaded. You could be lucky but if you got unlucky, you have to work triple hard in the exams. Jenny served us dinner and she opened the plate I was enthralled by the chicken parts I saw. Sight may be seducing but sense of smell was stronger. The smell if garlic blinded my eyes and I sat confused. I was hungry, when last did I see chicken staring at me like this? Jenny saw it in my eyes and apologized, she explained that she only put a little flavour of garlic as a seasoning because she hardly enjoys meat without garlic. She couldn't avoid the temptation of not putting just small, just small which she hoped I would not notice. I understood her plight perfectly, because before I came along she ate it without any remorse, infact she delighted in it. I looked at my sweetheart , looked at this well garnished chicken and I heard the rumbling of hunger from my stomach. Eating garlic just this once will not kill, will it? After all she just put a very little quantity, don't I kiss her and lie in her arms, wrapping her in mine? This garlic can not come between this delicious meal and I, a meal specially prepared by someone I love.

The mind can be very strong willed, Inspite of the tears in Jenny 's eyes and the sound of hunger rumbling in my stomach, I decided not to eat the garlic laced chicken.


Garlic, Chicken and love III


I didn’t know what to do. To either abandon the food Alex refused to eat because I had put a little garlic or just go on and enjoy my meal. It is not every day one gets this kind of food in school especially towards the end of the semester when the pocket is dried up. Alex has just spoilt my mood by I was bent on concealing my emotions. I loved him but I will not betray my emotion by letting him know how bad I felt, I quietly pick my spoon and ate after I fought back the tears.

It is not as if I am addicted to garlic, I did not always eat it, I only got used to it after a certain experience when I was in secondary school. I was always having an allergy that no drugs seemed to cure until one of my form master told me to try garlic. It was difficult for me because I never liked the smell; unfortunately I was left with it as the last option so I had little choice unless I wanted the allergy to continue. Within two days I saw great improvement and ironically I started enjoying the flavor too. My friends complained about the smell, I continued to take it until we left school. At home my mum had little resistance because she knew what I suffered when the allergy was traumatizing me.

I never really cared what the few boys who came my way said because I was not really interested in guys when I came to the university. My mum had told me to be weary of boys; I entered school with the mindset of minding my own business. But campus life was alluring and could be very tempting especially when your friends had boyfriends. I met two or three guys with nothing seriously attached until I met Alex. He was a jolly fellow and I had no reason to say no to him. I did something I had not done before by making sure I do not eat food with garlic hours before we were billed to see, and when I cooked I put just a little. If he is coming for dinner I will not put at all but when I cooked on this day, I knew I would not enjoy a meal of chicken if it is not flavoured, just a little.

I ate my food in silence and anger. If he loved me as he said what is in garlic that he will not eat? That was also his line of argument, if I loved him that much why can’t I just stop totally? After that meal I knew I had little time to make a final choice, I could see how he sat quietly through the meal, despite his hunger and the temptation of the chicken he was still able to resist. It dawned on me that this guy was serious, I could have prepared indomie for him to eat but I was determined to punish him for what he had done to me that evening. He rejected my food, a meal I took my time to prepare; I was sure when he gets to his bed that night he would pay for what he has done.

How will I choose garlic over a human being, a person I loved? I had to give it up and Alex proved to be a loving and caring guy. We had a long courtship and left school together. While I was in Law school he was serving and he got retained with a private TV station. Not long after we got married and whenever I think of the chicken incident, I try to imagine if he would have remained in the relationship had I insisted on eating my garlic. Would I have married garlic?

We had our first baby girl and named her Whitney. She is so beautiful and full of life. Alex and I love Whitney so much; Alex says she looks like me and he sees me in her. I was on maternity leave for four months after her birth, each morning as my husband sets to leave for work, he would kiss Whitney in her sleep and when he returns, he plays with her to make up for the hours he spent away. The duo became fun to see and have around, I am so happy when I look at the two people who give me joy. Alex made it a duty to kiss Whitney when he returns from work and at every moment he can and she got used to it as she grew up month by month. When she was 15 months old she caught this cold that would not go away. We went to the hospital thrice over a month and the doctors prescribed different anti biotic each time, the cough at night made her uncomfortable. She played during the day but you could see how her sleep was disturbed at night and that made us not to sleep too. I spoke with my mum who told me to remember my own allergy and how garlic cured it. I became more worried because I knew my husband disliked garlic, how would I even broach that topic to Alex?

I went to the market and got some garlic after years of not touching it. I prepared it for my daughter as a drink, she is my daughter and I love her just as I love her dad. I happen to be the one in between again. I did not want to risk Alex refusing the smell of garlic in the house if I asked. I gave my baby and was prepared to apologize when he comes back. I prayed seriously for it to work so that I will not have to go through a disappointment and my husband’s wrath.

When Alex returned from work I explained what I did and I secretly prayed he will not be crossed. Whitney who sleeping woke up not long after her dad returned and walked up to him, to my surprise he picked her up and kissed her as usual while she smiled back. He loves his daughter this much to still kiss her with the smell of garlic years after he made me to stop eating garlic, that was when I became jealous.

He laughed at me and told me he loves me and also loves our daughter. “Much as I hate garlic, I can’t compare my disdain for garlic and my baby’s wellbeing. If you loved me so much to choose me over garlic, why won’t I choose my daughter’s health over my dislike for garlic?”

“Why did you refuse my chicken way back then, since it would not have killed you? I will make sure I prepare chicken with garlic by tomorrow and if you do not eat, I will leave this house for you and Whitney”

“You know I will not eat it, even if it was a cow”

Though he has not changed, each time Whitney catches cold, Alex will ask me to give her garlic. When I remember the incident that happened in school about the garlic and chicken I cannot help but laugh at everything, I thank God for love, for my husband; Alex and my daughter; Whitney.



Concluded

However, this is purely a work of fiction.