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Friday, 20 January 2017

Favourite: Living In Gidi ((Lagos vs Abuja)

The Day started out like any other day or so I thought......little did I know events had already unfolded to make the day a memorable one for me.

Driving from my Lugbe abode, one of Abuja's satellite towns to my office in Maitama took me all of fifteen(15) minutes. The M.D would like to see you in an hour, said my secretary as I stepped into my office.

"Over the past five(5) years you have proven to be a dedicated, diligent, dependable and vital part of this organization. Hence I am pleased to inform you of your promotion & transfer to Lagos with effect from February 1st,2017. I have unwavering confidence in your ability to head our new branch in Lagos. All necessary structures have been put in place and I am available to provide appropriate support. Do not disappoint me" emphasized the MD. 

"Congratulations.......thank you sir...." i managed to say.

It's been days since I got this news and my feelings are still undecided about this impending move. And yes,my name is Akan and I will be living in Gidi or so says my promotion/transfer letter.

I was chatting with a friend just yesterday and part of his 2017 goals is moving back to Abuja from Lagos. You see he used to live & work in Abuja before his organization transferred him to Lagos. After five (5) years in Lagos, he wants to get back to Abuja and doesn't mind moving to another organization to achieve that (even though he just got promoted by his current organization). According to him he is tired of not having a worklife balance in Gidi.

So tell us about you....which city (Gidi or Abuja) is your preference and why? if you got transferred from one city to another, would you port happily? Would you resign from the job?lols (maybe the  thought of switching is that despicable to you ) or would you grudgingly go and get back to your preferential city the first chance you get? In your current  city, do you have a work life balance? 

I don't know about anybody else but I'd pick living & working in Abuja ten times over before Lagos. You?


Kemi Olunloyo To Laura Ikeji-Kanu.

Yesterday Laura Ikeji and her boo, younger brother of Kanu Nwankwo got married legally. Congrats to them! 

Well there's been some talk, especially with regards to Laura's botched attempt at photoshopping one of the pictures... I really and truly don't get Laura doing that. Is it pregnancy? Wow! Girl be proud and flaunt it. It's something to celebrate, it's not like any of us were expecting you to be a virgin or anything... Anyways, over to aunty Kemi. Read below. 

"Congrats to #LauraIkeji on getting married. However many ppl have asked me to critique this picture as a #socialcritic. The photo is retouched. That is not her hand. Too bony, people say she's hiding a baby bump. Registry marriages usually mean you are either pregnant or poor. For Laura Ikeji and a brother of a footballer? What happened to your double wedding shit in #Nigeria? Traditional and white. So what if she's preggo? Bout time one of those gals gave their mom a grandchild. One thing very wrong in this picture is the Ogbonna Kanu dude's hair. Its disgusting. He has a receding hairline those braids are pulling back and moving steadily. He will have that #rihanna forehead full blown soon coupled with being bald. His braiding person should be shot at the firing squad. He looks messy! Total rating for the loud money hungry Ikeji girls, Linda could have gifted her a more decent wedding dress . For crying out loud, Laura calls herself #FashionBlogger of 2016... in what country??? #hnnstyle"

This woman though...

Thursday, 19 January 2017

Ifesinachi Okonkwo: I Must Get Married This Year!

I paced around the room, my palms were sweaty, I was running late. I stared at my huge afro weavon, and slid a brush through it. I applied oil sheen, massaged, and pulled the tip up to give it a bouncy look. I wondered if this is the kind of hair I should wear. Wasn't it too obvious? Too flamboyant? I applied Mary Kay foundation, carefully pressing the puff on my skin, making sure it blends well; what was more embarrasing than having foundation run in a line on ones face - so callow. I hesitated for a minute; should I use the red or pink lipstick. I went with red, afterall I should look like a woman that is ready for marriage, pink seems too girly. I had wanted to wear my peach coloured christian loubiton pumps but I changed my mind, it was too expensive. I settled for my low heeled 'no designer label' ballet shoes. I wore my Gucci wristwatch, I didn't have to look like a guttersnipe, and of course I wouldn't want to be labeled a Gold digger.
I was going to attend Nneka's wedding. She was my course mate in the university, that was eight years ago.

The best place to meet your future husband is at a wedding. It happened for my friends; Uju, Rita, Blossom, it would happen for me too, I prayed. I didn't use my car, not because it had a bad tyre or an engine problem: It was a strategy, what if I meet someone I like and he offers to drop me? I couldn't tell him I was with my own car. It would sound too independent; Nigerian men want to date independent girls they don't want to marry them.
Before I stepped out of my house, I declared, like my pastor says ' there is power in the word of the mouth'. 'Today, I am going to meet my soul mate, my husband, the man that will complete me. The lord will put my enemies to shame. My husband is waiting for me at Nneka's wedding. My desperate search for a husband must end today.' By the time I ended my prayer, i was vibrating and sweating like a christmas goat.

I entered a rickety bus from the Island to the Mainland. The journey lasted three hours 'in the same Lagos o!' I thought. By the time I alighted the bus, my waist was on fire, the holes on the road were no longer potholes they were tanker holes; so deep and big. The traffic was nothing to write home about; as slow as a snail. I felt cranky and uncomfortable as I moved with difficulty to an Okada stand. Thank God I didn't wear my pumps. I had forgotten what that side of Lagos looked like, even though I spent the first few years of my life there.

Saturdays in Lagos were not as busy as weekdays but they were the noisiest. Unlike weekdays when people were too busy to discuss, loiter, and waste unnecessary time, on saturdays people had time to waste and do unnecessary things, like the two women who stood on the road discussing the hike in the price of kerosine; In the middle of the road!
Even though the Governor had banned commercial motorcycles from plying the roads of Lagos, they were littered everywhere like mosquitoes on debris. 'God's own church' I said to one, scanning him from his dirty cap to his torn shoes; I had to make sure he is not Hausa, those ones can drive recklessly. Satisfied, I climbed on the Okada, feeling terribly awkward, I couldn't remember the last time I climbed one.

If any of the couple wedding is not related to you and you are not part of the bridal train, you don't attend the church service, it is just none of your business. I was an hour late for the church service on purpose.

I walked in slowly, peeking from the corner of my eyes to see if I was drawing positive attention. I sighted a gathering and moved closer, it was Nneka and her gap toothed, dwarf husband posing for pictures. My eyes scanned the gathering and I almost gave a loud hiss. There was no way anything good could come out from this wedding. All the ladies looked faded like old fake clothes that already had tiny holes in them. The men looked tired, tired of life in their rumpled oversized suits. What happened? I asked myself. What kind of people did Nneka invite to her wedding? Nneka used to be a happening chick way back in school. She was one of the finest girls in school and she had all the boys licking her feet and eating her shit, now look at her, in the ugliest wedding gown I had laid my eyes on - who wears satin these days? - thread poking out of the material. The desperate want for a husband had defeated her. She smiled, a strained smile as the photographer pushed her head into position. Her dwarf husband held her waist, his short hands barely reaching the other side of her hip. Apart from the colourless bridal train nothing was more hilarious than that. Nneka caught my eyes and gave me a grin so wide I felt it would hurt. I didn't blame her, I was the one bright thing in this darkness she had fallen into. When I got a chance to talk to her, she held my hands and begged me to stay. I wanted to ask her what happened, how she got here. She read the question on my face.

'Babe, you should understand how this thing works. I am already getting old, the older I get the worse my suitors are. I have decided to manage this one' she said, using her jaw to point at her husband who was posing for a picture with his page boy.

I walked to the reception and already at one corner of the medium sized hall were Yoruba women, I could easily tell from the height of their gele that almost touched roof. On the other corner, written in a card placed on the long table was 'Ada Igbo Association' I guessed they were Nneka's mother's guests. In a shattering contrast to the other side of the table, they looked dull with their identical brown wrapper that had the face of a man imprinted in it. No earrings, No make up, just plain middle aged women.

I settled in a chair after using my handkerchief to wipe it thoroughly for fear of dust. A fat bean faced guy sat next to me. I could see from the corner of my eyes that he was checking me out. The wedding began and the chairman of the occasion gave a speech. I glanced at the Order of programme menu regularly, hoping, praying that the wedding comes to an end so that I could run back to the solitude of my apartment on the Island, a place that wasn't polluted with the putrid smell of poverty.
'Who are you here to for?' the bean faced guy asked me.
 I knew that there was no need indulging him, even though I was desperate to drop the cloak of singleness and find a husband, I wasn't Nneka, I wouldn't settle for a fat man with bean shaped face, atleast for the sake of my children. I got up gently and went to a vacant seat at the back. 

Nneka and her husband danced into the hall. Her carton of a wedding gown sweeping the dusty floor as she danced, not with her husband, but with herself. I knew that feeling. It was her wedding and even though she was married to a short man who she did not love, it was still her wedding and she was going to enjoy it.

When they got to their seats, we all sat down, and someone was now occupying the formerly vacant seat close to me. I turned to look at him and I suppressed a smile, at least a bright light at the end of the tunnel. He was fair complexioned, I wouldn't call him handsome, he was decent looking, clean was the word for it. I borrowed the line of the bean faced guy. 'So who are you here for?' I asked. 'Chidi' he said abruptly. I wished I had stopped at that because what came next was heartbreaking for me. 'Beautiful wedding' I said. 'Yes, very beautiful, Chidi is my very tight friend, we live for the same yard'. He replied in a tangled mixture of English and pidgin coated with a terrible igbo accent. I hid my face in my hands and gave up. He tried to continue the conversation and I ignored him, pretending as though I was listening to the jabbering of the Comedian M.C who obviously had no jokes to tell. They couldn't even hire a good M.C. 

It was toast time and we toasted to the a blissful life for the couple with no wine. I chuckled at the irony of the toast. The Nneka I know would give her husband nothing but trouble after this marriage, she was a volcano waiting to erupt, going about like a good wife but after the wedding everyone would see her true colour. That was what being single at 30 turned us to; Pretentious, frustrated girls.
I was served rice and malt, no juice, no wine, no cake, no desert. I had tried. 

I was about to leave when a dark stately man breezed into the reception hall. I was some distance a way from him but I could smell his perfume; he was wearing Bvlgari, the expensive one. Alas! My soul mate. I watched him as he smiled at his friends exposing the whitest and most arranged set of teeth I have ever seen. I assessed him. My eyes went to his shoes, then his watch, his phones, his shades and of course his car keys. He was rich, a capable husband. I quickly removed my beauty weapons, I powdered my face, re applied my lipstick, straightened my dress and was about to walk up and ask 'Who are you here for?' When I saw him hunched over, talking to one of the yoruba women, his voice booming, he was speaking Yoruba, not in the way people that came to Lagos and learnt Yoruba speak it, but like a true son of the soil; ending every word with an exclamation and leaving his mouth open for a few seconds before going to another sentence. My last hope was crushed, he was Yoruba. A Yoruba man can't be my soul mate, I was a typical Igbo girl. My mother would slap me to my senses if I brought a Yoruba man home for a husband. That she had been sending me text messages every morning, asking me if I was an Ogbanje or a lesbian and didn't want to ever get married didn't mean I should take a Yoruba man to her.

As I squeezed myself into another rickety bus I wished I had come with my car.
Home had never felt so sweet, I crashed on my bed, tired, exhausted but not defeated. Next Saturday was Ifeoma's wedding, maybe this time I would be lucky. My pastor had told me at the beginning of the year. 'YOU MUST MARRY THIS YEAR'. It was already september and I shall not deter because I MUST MUST GET MARRIED YEAR WHETHER THE DEVIL LIKES IT OR NOT.

I was reading some of my blog posts from 2,3 years back and I found so many interesting pieces. Kai, hundreds of posts. Some really good ones too. I read some posts by blog readers and I could still remember posting this one above in early 2014. I enjoyed reading it back then and I thought you might now. 

I miss Ifesinachi. I think I remember her "disfriending" our blog because we had some differences on feminism and men (she didn't seem to like men much and I seemed to like them more than she thought a woman (or feminist?) should). Or/and majority of blog readers' views on same. She sent me an email to that effect, if I remember correctly. Oh well, I hope she comes back some day, I loved having her here. Her comments were golden too. 

So the story, you like? LOL. 

...Oh, I know many ladies here at the start of this year said "This is my year of marriage!". So I'm sure you can relate. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Picture credit: peniel enchill

Some Nigerian Tailors & MUAs Are From Hell!

But why do some Nigerian service providers think it's okay to treat clients this way. I read this account below, of a bride who was blatantly disappointed by her Makeup artist (Dave Sucre) on her wedding day, and also her trad. I also read Dave Sucre's response and guess what, he gave some flippant apology but didn't even have any reasonable excuse whatsoever! Just "Am sorry" etc etc. 

"I booked Dave Sucre in June 2016 for my wedding in January 2017. I booked the full bridal package which includes traditional wedding makeup by Dave (this I was informed included all day touch ups by Dave) and white wedding makeup which includes a second look for my second outfit, makeup for my mum and all day touch ups. In August 2016, I was in Nigeria and had a makeup trial booked with Dave. I turned up at the scheduled time and found he was not there and someone else had to do a makeup look for me. If only I knew then how this man was.

On the day of my traditional wedding (Thursday 5th January), I got a car to bring Dave and his staff over. When he arrived, he complained about being down with malaria and an upset stomach and this and that. I got someone to bring him food and just told him to take it easy as he was really playing the “sick” role. He rushed my makeup and I didn’t like how it came out at all and then he left immediately, before I even joined the ceremony. I even encouraged him to go home and rest and sent him home with my driver so that he would feel better by Saturday.

As soon as I got outside, my makeup was pouring down my face. Literally pouring. The makeup had no staying power whatsoever and it was clearly not professional standard at all. My friends rushed to get the girl Dave had left behind and she said there was nothing she could do and they should “just dab it”. Eventually, another makeup artist I had booked to do my sisters’ makeup helped me out.

My white wedding was the following SaturdayOn Friday (the day after my traditional), Dave insisted I pay him the balance of the money to ensure he would show up the next day. I sent the money. By 7am the morning of my wedding, Dave had not arrived and I had not heard from him. I called his number and someone casually and unapologetically told me that Dave would not be coming as he had taken ill and had been rushed and admitted to a hospital. I was so shocked, I thought they were joking. They hadn’t even bothered to call me to cancel, just left me waiting the morning of my wedding.

After my wedding, I was discussing with a friend about how I needed to get a refund from Dave because he had cancelled as he had been admitted to hospital. She asked me what I was talking about, saying that Dave had been in Ghana since Friday doing someone’s makeup for the Inaugural ball. He was on her Snapchat and she even posted a photo on Instagram tagging him as her makeup artist. You can imagine what it felt like hearing that. Baring in mind that this wicked man and his team had not bothered once to call me between the Saturday of my wedding and Monday 9th. I had to be the one calling them asking where my money was. AND STILL they were maintaining the lie that he was in hospital.

Dave Sucre came to my traditional wedding laying the groundwork for his future lie about being ill. He did horrible makeup for me and left immediately. He made me pay him in full on Friday knowing he would not show up on Saturday. Then he didn’t even have the decency to call me to cancel on the morning of my wedding so I’d have some time to make other plans, he waited until I called to find out why he hadn’t arrived before informing me he won’t be coming. And I even called this man a couple of days before my wedding to confirm everything was okay and if there was anything he needed. These people are terrible.

I was very lucky I had booked someone to do my sisters’ makeup and once again, she saved me from what would have been a disaster and would have ruined my wedding day". 

Ever since I read this, I've heard so many stories of makeup artists and other vendors from hell! I think the worst are tailors! These ones can make some body commit murder. My friend actually had to take a policeman to the tailor's shop, to more or less hold a gun to his head while he finished sewing her dress, after several weeks of disappointment. Yet, he had collected full payment! 

Why do they do this, especially once they've gained a small level of success? 

Are you guilty of this; tell us why y'all act the way you do?

Have you ever been disappointed by someone you paid for a job? Let's talk about it. 

20 Reasons You Will Lose Your Husband To a Mistress

Socialite Dokun Olumofin, who is the brother of relationship expert Joro Olumofin has listed reasons why ''your husband will be snatched by his mistress''.

He wrote


1. Wearing Head Net, Local Ankara and Local Scarfs at Home.
2. Denial of Sex
3. Bad Cooking Skills
4. Missionary Sex Styles Only
5. Protruding Belly and Inability to Work on the Belly
6. Using the Bathroom without Flushing
7. Zero ASO EBI Style sense
8. Bad Dressing Skills
9. Contact with EX
10. Ostentatious Display of Husbands on Social Media
11. Total Dependence on Partner
12. Fertility Issues ( This is not a woman's fault)
13. Sex Of a Child ( Inability to have a male or Female child, also not a woman's fault)
14. Inability to Speak your native language
15. Telling him your Body Count (Never tell your partner your exact Body count)
17. DIRTY, HOPELESS, BURSTED and UNSEXY UNDER WEAR (Wear Pink, Royal Blue, Red Victoria Secrets Panties)
19. TRY not to repeat Underwears
20. Nagging wife (All Men Hate women who nag)


Haha. Oya my ladies which one of these are you guilty of? 

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

#FranklySpeaking: Completing The Work Of Terrorists;The IDP Obliterators

Yesterday, news reported that a Nigerian Air Force alpha jet erroneously bombed an IDP camp, killing over 100 people and injuring many in a case of friendly fire. This was a very sad news as it spread like wide fire, carrying widespread condemnation mostly against the military for such a costly error. 

While my heart goes out to those in the IDPs who lost their lives, I also empathize with the Nigerian Air Force for this horrendous error. 

I seriously do not think any Fighter pilot will deliberately target civilian populations. The military should be allowed to investigate this and mete out punishment within their standard codes of operation. 

Deaths caused by friendly fire during armed conflicts is as old as armed conflicts exits. Even the major military powers used on earth have all had their fair share of these costly errors. 

According to American military researcher Jon Krakauer, 21% of the casualties in World War II, 39% of the casualties in Vietnam and 52% of the casualties in the first gulf war were all as a result of friendly fires. 

While I'm not extricating the air force of any blame, the bigger obliterators of the displaced persons in the North-East remains those who deliberately steal food and funds meant for the IDPs and allow them to starve to death . 

In November last year, the United Nations humanitarian coordinator, Peter Lumberg warned that 75,000 children will starve to death in just a few months. 

Same year, a Borno state government report showed that 450 children died of malnutrition in the Internally Displaced Persons camps.

According to the same report, the IDP camps have about 6,444 severe cases of malnutrition, 25,511 children have mild to moderate symptoms of malnutrition. 

But according to Medicines Sans Frontieres ( MSF), within the last one year about 1,200 graves, mostly for children have been dug within the IDP camps in one year alone. This shows that the government report is actually a euphemism of the real situation. 

Earlier on in the year, the UN's Assistant Secretary-General Toby Lanzer had warned that over 250,000 children were malnourished in the IDPs and Nigeria was at risk of facing famine 'unlike any we have seen anywhere'. 

It's ironic that all these are going on when the government actually claimed to spend 270,000,000 Naira to clear grass at the IDP camps. 

All these are happening despite billions of monies being voted from government, NGOs, donor agencies and UN agencies towards the welfare of these IDPs. 

In June 2016, newspapers reported that government officials including law enforcement agencies actually engaged in public fights over rice that was meant for the IDPs. 

The most brazen and shameful news was the alleged disappearance of 71 trailers of rice sent by the Presidency to the IDPs. The funny thing was that an elaborate ceremony was hosted for the arrival of this 71 trailers by the Adamawa state government whose deputy Governor actually received these trailers of food. 

Stories of 50kg bags dispatched from government agencies and miraculously turning to 25kg bags abound.

It's time for Mr. President to wake up and take out the real obliterators of the IDPs, the scavengers who feed fat on the carcass of dead children. 

They are worse than Boko Haram, and definitely worse than the fighter pilot who made the costly error of dropping his wares in an IDP camp. 

-Frankly Speaking. 

Photo credit:


#FranklySpeaking is the in-house consultant on matters of Politics, Business and Currents Affairs for Thelma Thinks blog. He occasionally contributes to the blog under the pseudonym, #FranklySpeaking. 



Happily Ever After (Pt 2)

This continues where we left off at part 1 Here

After a while I stopped feeling miserable. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was not bottling up so much anymore. Wale had a great listening ear and could listen to my problems all day. Ifemi kept on giving me the worst attitude for another month and after a while I began to ignore him. After over 2 months of wasting so much food, I stopped cooking for him. In fact I stopped doing anything for him. We lived like strangers. It was such a surprise that we still slept in the same bed. We hardly said hello to each other. I preferred to even stay in the office late and gist with Wale. We had lunch and dinner together and I just went home to sleep most days. Wale even advised me that men were not that difficult and if Ifemi sees that his actions were no longer affecting me, he would change and that is exactly what happened.
After about two weeks of ignoring Ifemi, he came home one night and asked me to make dinner for him. I smiled in my mind and went to make him dinner. We ate together that night, he gisted me about his day in the office and we talked into the night. Eventually, the conversation drifted to what happened and Ifemi said he had forgiven me and wanted us to give our marriage another chance. I apologized again and he said now he knows the height of my stubbornness but loves me anyway. I wanted to tell him about my friendship with Wale at that point but it just felt like it would be a betrayal and I did not want to spoil the moment for us.I had so much fun because we gisted like old friends. We didn’t even get to the bedroom before Ifemi started touching me. We were like high school kids having their first make out session. Very rushed but fun. We made love right there on the sitting room floor, cuddled and slept off there.
I came into the office late the next morning after the beautiful night I just had. Wale came to see me immediately to check if I was okay.After all, I had been coming to work very early and closing really late just to avoid Ifemi. I did not plan to give him the full gist of what had happened but Wale said he wouldn’t leave my office till he got the full story. I was so excited anyway to hold it in. I gave him the full story of how hubby and I made up and even had makeup sex on the sitting room floor. Wale was so excited about it and told me how proud he was of me. He said now that my husband is back now, my work husband can take a bow right? I assured him he was still my bestie whenever Ifemi was naughty. As we walked out of my office together, Wale surprisingly pulled me for a hug and while I was still wondering what the hug was for, he planted a kiss on my lips. He walked out while my mouth was still open. I was really confused. It wasn’t that the kiss was not nice, quite the opposite. I just did not understand why Wale will kiss me now that Ifemi and I are getting our marriage back on track. I really did not know what to do but telling Ifemi seemed out of the question now that we were just recovering, I simply could not make him distrust me again. I decided talking to Wale about it seemed like a better option…….
Over the next few weeks, Ifemi and I made efforts to get our marriage on track. It seemed like we had drifted apart for too long and we had gotten used to doing things separately. I tried to put things to bed with Wale by discussing the hug and kiss with him but immediately I raised the issue, he just brushed it aside. I just concluded he probably just got carried away or maybe he did not even plan to kiss me anyway. Why make it such a big deal? I began to reduce our lunch dates though and hubby started coming to take me to lunch once in a while. Every thing was getting so rosy and I was having the time of my life in my marriage, until one day….
Ifemi went jogging that Saturday morning and left his phone at home. Out of boredom, I just started going through his phone. It had been so long since I checked his phone because it was always so boring. I was not prepared for what I saw. There was an unfamiliar name on his WhatsApp chat. Ifemi did not usually have female friends so seeing the name, Jadesolami was quite a shock. Who will my husband use such an endearment for? I then scrolled the chat way back to earlier messages. I just could not stop the tears. In the two months that Ifemi refused to speak to me, he had found comfort in the arms of another woman.
They had shared such intimate chats, the likes of which hubby and I hardly ever wrote to each other even in our best moments. Hubby even wrote in one of his messages that he wished he had met her earlier. The fact that their last messages showed they had ended things was no consolation at all. She wrote that she misses Ifemi and she hopes that the marriage he left her to build was worth it and the only reply my darling hubby had given was that he misses her too and prays it all works out. I just could not fathom it. Ifemi that hardly even spoke to women. Just one simple mistake and he ran to another woman’s arms. Nothing had ever prepared me for this. Something kept telling me that if he could forgive me for what I did, I should be able to forgive him too but I just refused to listen. he was supposed to be the faithful and responsible one. I wrote 20 sticky notes saying, “Jadesola misses you” and put it everywhere in the house, right from the front door to the fridge, table tops and everywhere stick-able. I took my car keys and drove straight to Wale’s house. I did not even remember to call ahead to know if he was home. The tears wouldn’t even stop. I could hardly see. Wale opened on the first knock and was so surprised to see me. He asked what happened and I told him all that happened amidst tears. He cuddled me on the sofa and rocked me to sleep.
By the time I woke up, I was on Wale’s bed around 2pm. He must have carried me after I slept. It really was comforting to have such a friend. I looked around for my phone and did not find it so I went to the sitting room to find it. Wale was watching TV and he told me he had made me some rice since he knew I had not eaten. I knew ifemi would be worried and I asked for my phone. Wale said he had switched it off as Ifemi had not stopped calling. I felt rather uncomfortable that Wale just decided to switch off my phone but I also knew he was just looking out for me. By the time I put on my phone, I had 20 missed calls from Ifemi, my battery was already very low. I thought of calling him back but Wale advised me to let him stew for a while that I could bunk with him for as long as I wanted. I knew I could not do that so I decided I would go stay in a hotel later in the evening. Wale did not seem so pleased with the idea but there was nothing he could do so he went to serve me my food. I really could not eat the food as the tears started again. I was just disappointed in Ifemi. Wale came to sit by my side to stop my tears and that was when I felt his hands rubbing my back and then he started rubbing my laps. My first thought was of Ifemi’s betrayal. I knew Wale was going to go all the way if I allowed him but was I willing to? Then I also was so angry with my hubby, all these months he made me feel so guilty over lying to him when he was busy being unfaithful? Why not just even the slate? I turned to Wale with all my anger and kissed him hard on the lips….
The sudden knock on the door was the jolt that brought me back to my senses. Seriously? I couldn’t believe I just kissed another man so deeply. I always believed that Ifemi was my one and only. Wale was so angry at the distraction. The way he shouted, who is that? kind of made me laugh. I tried to gather my wits around me and compose myself and the little dignity I have left. He went to the door and I wondered who he was discussing with but I was not kept in suspense for too long as one of the prettiest ladies I have ever seen walked into the door. One of those women you just meet and you instantly feel inadequate and unsure of yourself. She had so much class and poise and when she said, ” hello, I am Tumi, Wale’s fiancรฉ and you are? It took me a while to recover and not to let the shock I was feeling register on my face. I am Mrs Ibukun Babalola, your fiancรฉe and I work together and he has never stopped talking about how great you are. I cast a quick glance at Wale and I have never seen so much guilt on a person’s face before. I just could not believe he had never mentioned having a girlfriend before not to talk of being engaged. I looked at her and saw the big rock sitting on her finger, she was definitely engaged.
I quickly excused myself and made a silly excuse about coming to sort out an office presentation for Monday, even though she did not ask me what I came for. Wale did not say a word all through. He decided to see me off to the car. I was walking so briskly and just wanted to get away from that embarrassment as fast as possible. Wale started to mention that he was sorry, I landed a very deliberate dirty slap on his face and got into my car and drove off. I parked just down his street and checked my phone. There was already over 30 missed calls from Ifemi and text messages begging not to hurt myself and come back home. I decided to drive straight home and listen to what my beloved hubby had to say. Immediately I drove into our compound and saw my mother in law’s car packed in the compound, I was already irritated. So after cheating on me, Ifemi had the guts to go call reinforcement or what?
I walked into the sitting room with a straight face. I greeted mummy and asked if she had been here for long and if she had eaten. I did not even give Ifemi a second glance even though I knew he was sited right there. She said she was fine and had been waiting for me for about an hour since she was the reason I came and she wanted to talk to me. She told me it was a private discussion and I should lead the way to our bedroom. I was wondering what it was mum wanted to discuss with me privately and had made her come all the way. One thing I loved my mother in law for was the fact that she does not get involved. Even when we had the last big issue that threatened our marriage, she only gave me a call. She was just so busy anyway. I did not have to guess for long. Just as we sat in the room, mum launched into a very long story of how she knew some things that had been happening in our marriage and how hubby and I have been making so many mistakes. She said all of our other mistakes has led to this point where we both have to choose if this marriage actually matters to us. She said she knows about Jadesola, who indeed had an affair with my hubby and that now the lady was pregnant with his child. I suddenly went blank. It felt like pregnancy had another meaning. I was totally speechless. Mummy kept on talking like she did not just drop a bombshell. She said she just could not understand how I put my job before my marriage and refused to give my husband a child. I could not shout or scream. I just sat there in silence, the tears running down my face while she waited for me to answer he question of, so what will you do now?

I sat at that spot for what seemed like an eternity. I knew my marriage was over. I just did not feel it was worth fighting for. I could never forgive Ifemi for impregnating another woman no matter what I must have done to him. He promised me for better or worse. I stood up eventually with the tears still streaming uncontrollably down my face, walked to the wardrobe and started packing my things. My mother in law came to stand by me and advised me not to go. She kept saying I should not make this mistake. I should not give up on my marriage but to fight for it. She kept going on and on but I totally ignored her. When I was done packing about two boxes, I turned to her and said thank you. I picked my boxes and dragged them to the sitting room. Ifemi was still sitting there, I saw a momentary surprise on his face at the packed boxes but otherwise, he just looked at me and shook his head. That took my anger to another level, I had planned to just walk by but I turned to him and said, “you are such a wicked hypocrite. This marriage was all about children to you right? You jumped at the first pair of skirts to offer them to you. Go to hell Ifemi and stay there. Woe betides me if I ever think of accepting an unfaithful dog like you”. He did not utter a word of reply.
The rest of that day was in a haze. I drove my car, parked it in my office compound and took a cab to the airport. I took the next available flight to Lagos and went home. My mom did not seem surprised to see me and was not accepting at all. I was put under the fire immediately I entered the house even though it was almost midnight. My mother in law and my husband had both called her and told her the whole story. My mom did not even want to listen to me. I begged her to understand but she said I should have called her before messing my whole marriage up and I should get back to my husband immediately. She said I could not stay in the house and she would never condone such but I told her point blank I was not going back there. I could not sleep that night as I was desperately trying to piece it all together. The next morning, I took my bag and headed to a hotel. I texted my mom, telling her where I was in the hope that she will ask me to come back home but she did not reply. By Sunday morning, I had not eaten for 2 days and I was so weak. I had to order room service and I stayed in all day.
On Monday, I started to think deeply about what to do next. I could not stay in a hotel indefinitely and I needed to get back to the office. Would I now get a separate apartment in Abuja or what do I do? If I go back to Abuja now, where do I live? Another hotel? I did not even have friends I could live with. Just as I was thinking of that, my phone beeped, I got an email. I had to read the mail about 4 times to understand that I had just been sacked due to downsizing blah blah blah. Another round of tears started. This could not have happened at a worse time. After all, I had given to that company, now they know they are downsizing? I had heard rumours of it but I never thought in a million years it could affect me. I was not even in Abuja to go fight and raise hell about it. It was really beginning to feel like my whole world had come crushing down. Maybe it was a bad idea to pack out of the house after all. We could take the baby and settle the mother far away from us. That looked like a possible option. I decided to chill a stew in Lagos for one more week before going back home to Abuja.
Immediately I made that decision, I started to feel better. I would definitely get another job but another husband? That is a big NO. I started calling up old friends in Lagos and spent the whole week visiting and hanging out.
By Thursday, Ifemi started calling me. I refused to pick his call but I was smiling in my mind. Now he has come to his senses. I’ll leave him to be sad until Sunday and I’ll take the morning flight home. I booked my ticket immediately, I really was starting to accept the idea of the child. On Friday morning, there was a knock on my hotel room door. I was surprised to see my mom but her face was scary. I have never seen my mom so sad before. I kept asking her what was wrong but she asked me to sit down. Immediately I did, I knew my life was over. She said Ifemi had decided to come meet me in Lagos yesterday evening and he had a car accident on his way to the airport in Abuja. I said, so how is he? Is he okay? I need to get to the hospital immediately. My mom pulled me and said, they tried very hard in the hospital but Ifemi died at about 2 am this morning. I could hear screams but I did not even know they were coming from me. I felt myself landing on the bed, I knew I kept shouting but I know nothing else that happened there after. How could I have killed the person I love most in this world?

I want to say a big thank you to all those that followed my story. I hope we all got the lessons in this and can avoid making some grave mistakes in our marriages.
May God give us all wisdom to build our homes.
Let us live, love and learn for the journey is still far and it is not for the fainthearted.
Pls ladies it’s worth reading.
It’s worth sharing
Family is everything.
One single mistake can ruin it all.
Don’t keep secrets away from each other and always carry each other along.

Author: Ibukun Babalola (Mrs)



Tuesday, 17 January 2017

How's It Going So Far?

Hey guys! 17 days into the year and I'm thinking 2017, it's too soon for all this! 

No, it's not just the fact that I've been on my back for days with the room spinning around me, while reading instagram posts urging all and sundry to GET UP AND GO MAKE THAT MONEY!

It's been other things too. 

And I'm just like, all I know is that I'm going to have a good year. 

A series of things happened in the past week and then today. At some point this afternoon I sat down in the hospital and ignored the moisture in my eyes and said "I really don't care God, I'm going to keep thanking You!"  

And please, let me say thank you for all the calls, mails and well wishes. I appreciate all of it, I'm getting better. 

I guess January just wants to come and take all my headache for 2017 so that I can get that over and done with. Hallelujah! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜ƒ☺️

But let's talk about yours. Is it too soon? It certainly doesn't feel too soon for me, I personally can't wait for the month to be over. Let's talk about your year so far. How's it going? Just as you'd expected, better than you'd expected, or not at all how you'd imagined it? 



Are They Really This Bad???

Suddenly there seems to be a lot of talk about menstrul cycles on social media. In fact Zambia just passed a new law giving all women one day off every month to rest on the first (and most challenging) day of their period. 

Few weeks ago, some guy tweeted that he thinks women over exaggerate this whole mentrual (cramps) thingy and thousands of women collectively chewed his head off. In fact I'm sure that in his life he will never again open his mouth to make such a statement. 

Similarly this morning, some other guy tweeted that please someone should tell him honestly why women cannot use toilet paper or cotton materials when they're on their period. One aunty, who obviously happens to be perioding gave this very angry reply; I curse you today, with the blood flowing out of my vagina I curse you. I curse you with the tears in my eyes. 

Shuooo, hunty is that how you used to do? Someone cannor play with you? ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜ฐ๐Ÿ˜…. LOL, Aunty must have been having one of those periods from hell, her hormones must have been all over the place. I can't blame her though, that question vexed me too. Hehe. 

Seriously, that image above, many females seemed to be able to relate with it. But I'm one of those people that God uses the period to compensate for other things. I've never had any serious cramp for a second, I never feel any pre-mentrual syndrome, I do not have break outs or pimples, I don't get cranky, or sickly, or horny, or hungry... In fact, the only reason I know I'm on my period is because I'm bleeding, and most times it's easy for forget. Yeah, I'm lucky like that. LOL. 

But I get that I might be the exception. My sister's is crazy. Hers is the kind where she's throwing up, rolling on the floor, crying, pleading, cursing, bargaining with God... She has fevers, she gets angry, she's in so much pain that you'd nearly start crying for her. In the past I used too...

Ladies, are periods really that bad? Would you support being given a day off from work every month to deal with the flow? What would you like men (or your man) to understand about your "monthly visitor"? Wanna talk about it? 

5 Nights Of Glory!

This post ought to have come days ago but it's never late than never. 

I'd looked forward to this year's Salvation Ministry's 5 Nights of Glory with so much anticipation. In fact, just last week I'd signed up to serve as a worker for the program and already had my skirt suits and camisoles on lockdown. 

However my health had other plans for me, but that's alright because I get to be a part of 5 Nights of Glory by watching online on  and that way I don't miss out on any of  the goodness. 

It's not too late to join us online or search for the viewing centre closest to you, wherever you live, and be a part of this life-changing program. 

God bless us all! 

Favourite: What Is Your Staying Power?

What is your staying power? Just how dogged are you when you want something? Wait a minute, what did you think I was talking about? Get your mind out of the gutter already, lols.

When a child is learning how to walk & falls down repeatedly,they never think to themselves,maybe this isn't for me. As adults we can learn an essential life skill from that child & that skill is persistence. Persistence is defined as continuing in an opinion or course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.

Persistence in the pursuit of your goals especially in unfamiliar terrain. Just  how persistent are you? What is your staying power? So you have tried What? five(5) times? a hundred(100) times? Is it now time to throw in the trowel?

Imagine if some of the people you celebrate had given up. What if Thomas Edison had given up in his various attempts at the incandescent bulb?Imagine if Abraham Lincoln didn't persevere over the decades in achieving his dreams?

Sure you may be exhausted & feeling discouraged. Perhaps things are not working out like you expected, it might just be time to take a breather, rest & re-strategize.  

But to give up? Since when do you do that? 


Dear Thelma (Please Help, She Wants Him Back!)

Greetings to the wonderful people of thelma thinks blog. I am here to share a story.
I have been into relationships which ended for one reason or the other. I am a young girl of 25, a catholic and from Anambra state.
Few months ago i met Mr.A who is 32 years old, not a catholic, not tall and he hails from Imo state. Frankly speaking, his denomination and height made me lose interest though we got talking and the flow was just awesome. We got to know each other. I was so comfortable with him. He was so transparent to me that he narrated his past relationships;serious and the unserious ones, his principle and standards, financial capability...I decided to pay attention to his character, the man in him. Lo and behold he has those qualities I want in a man which made me fall in love with him.

Mr.A actually broke up from a relationship before he met me. He dated the ex for 6 years. The relationship with his ex was a lovely and sweet one but along the line the girl (ex) cheated on him and didn't show any remorse. This led to their breakup. 

I started dating him knowing that he is no longer dating the other lady. Along d line his ex started calling him crying and begging for them to amend things. She adds alot of pressure to Mr.A who has moved on with me. I am in love with him and i get scared of loosing him to the ex. He loves me and he promised to be with me. He is also making sacrifices for it to work out between us. I have introduced him to my parents.

I don't think he has completely forgotten the ex because he gists me about her once in a while...he actually tells me his dreams, plans, fears no matter how bad it sounds. I am scared of loosing him and i always come up with what if this...and what if that...

I don't know the best way to handle my fears. Secondly my parents are not in support of my relationship with him because he is not a catholic and not from Anambra state. I need your help.

Sunday, 15 January 2017

I'll be fine

Hey, took ill. Been on admission at the hospital. Dont have my devices with me, thats why i've been MIA. Posting this from a phone.

Not strong enough to type, or do much else. I'm sure i'll be fine though, until then BRB guys.

Friday, 13 January 2017

Master Of Excuses. (6 Things To Know, Dear Job Seekers...)

A few days back, Twitter user called David Ade revealed how he had responded to an ad seeking writers for a fan site on Twitter but the responses he got were rude and condescending so much so that the fansite editor called him a “moron” and a typical Nigerian for “making excuses, proving nothing”, adding that Nigeria is a “scum country” and that Nigerians are “a waste of oxygen and flesh”.

See the correspondence below. 

I am so happy to inform you that the ill-mannered MUFC staff has been fired, after these screenshots got online. 

But I couldn't help but feel agitated when I was reading through the chats. Ade is the poster child of "Things not to do when you're applying for a job!"  

So based on this chat I'm going to write a list of things that are noteworthy for applicants/job seekers. Please read below. 

1. Do not make excuses. Excuses make you come across as incompetent and effete. Ade has not even gotten the job and is already saying the time will not be enough. This already suggests that you lack a major quality employers look out for; a Can Do attitude. 

2. Take the initiative. Ade was given free rein to write on anything, and that could have been a moment for him to shine. Instead, he wanted to be spoon-fed and unfortunately at the workplace ain't nobody got time for that.  

3. Do not sell yourself short. In fact, hype yourself, if possible. From the moment Ade "opened his mouth to speak" I cringed. Do not apply for a job and then inform them that you are not a professional! Are you trying to convince them not to give you the job or what?

4. Do not haggle or banter with your prospective employer. Communication should be brief, direct and polite. You do not want to make yourself dislikable even before you've gone for the interview! I literally nearly cried when Ade said "but you were prepared to write those articles" and went ahead to spew even more gibberish. 

5. Do not for a second think that you're the only one applying for this job. Chances are that there are hundreds of others, at that very moment, some much more qualified than you, applying for that job. So  your A-game should be your only game at that point. 

6. Lastly, whether applying for a job or pitching for a new business; Do not say you cannot do something. If asked, say yes and go and learn immediately (or hire someone who can, in the case of business/contract)! Yes, lying is wrong but you lie anyways, but it makes more sense to lie about something that could move you to the next level in life. 
       Of course this is within reason; if the person you're applying to wants someone to start the job immediately, but fluent mandarin is a major requirement, OYO is your own if you say you can when you can't. 


Writing this made me nostalgic for the posts FNLP used to write for job seekers. I hope she starts writing for us again soon, I know by now she she has much more wealth of experience although other areas of interest would also be welcome. 

Share your thoughts guys, I'm sure we all agree that the MUFC guy is a major douchebag. But what do you think about Ade's approach? And what lessons have you learnt from being a job seeker, or an employer? We can all learn a thing or two from the comment section. 

Lets talk. 

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