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SUCCESS COMES THROUGH PROVOCATION

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Journal. When things are not moving well for you, sit back and think. Go back to the chessboard and redraft your mission. If I have achieved any damn thing in my life, that's my key. Life has dearly left me with some lessons. When you fail and continue to fail, sit back and ask yourself some critical questions. Where have I gotten it wrong? Why am I failing? Am I repeating same failed procedures? What can I do to move on? My friend wrote his first Jamb examination when I was in Ss3 and scored 200. So poor for someone aspiring to study in University of Nigeria. He failed the second time and it was as if he had offended the gods of success. Same year he failed, I gained entry into the the prestigious university of Nigeria that he dreamed of. It was a one way thing for me; not really hard as people said. Thanks be to God.  He wrote the third time and still failed. Each time he called me, he ended up saying 'you are lucky Ben. I wish I can have your kind of future'. ...
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FIVE MINUTES ECSTASY COULD BE DANGEROUS

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We  often  played in the  mother 's  bed  whenever she wasn't  around .  The  joy  of it  all  was that we always abandoned the  food   kept  for  practice and us our own cooking.  Her  mother 's  Brother   was  the  landlord  of my  mother 's Restaurant.  Smiles... we  didn't go much in  naughty .   We   knew  nothing much then.  The  joy  of it  all  was that  we  always abandoned the  food   kept  for  practice  and us  our own cooking. Amaka  and I  were  age mates.  She  had  two  sisters .  We all played on such sound big bed.  We  rode  tyres through the serene streets, and I would often abandon my  father 's  shop  to  play  with her.  It  was  a lovely childhood. Circums...
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My OKADA Man

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            Credit: Thetrent I was my father's able right hand man. That was in my primary and secondary school days, anyway. His Provision store and Bar was virtually my room, kitchen, parlour and everything. I spent most of my childhood days under his care (never as if mum wasn't close, I was Daddy's son). When I was preparing for common entrance examination, he swore to make sure that I attended a boarding school. It wasn't a cheerful gift by the way; he had expected me to say no because little boys in our neighborhood cried each time their parents declared that they would be going to boardinghouse. Sending you to a boarding school is more like a deterrence. It was almost synonymous with punishment, because when you go to boardinghouse, you're totally disconnected with the love that flows in the street. And those who went to boardinghouse narrated their horror experiences, ranging from seniors bullying you to a a compulsory morning devotion and the w...
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