letting the ink tell the tales conceived in my mind………

Month: October, 2014


You have me, I have you…
We are strangers, that’s true
But I see myself in you;
Scared of the darkness taking you a complete hostage
And that’s why you have me and I have you
Together we can fight a common enemy
You can help me find me and I help you find you
We may be strangers, this is true
But darling, I see myself in you
Holding on to that tiny piece of sanity that may soon snap
Gradually having your life sucked out of you
And you are confused, helpless and so scared
Just a take a good look at me, you don’t need a mirror
I am an image of all the past you bottled up afraid to let go
Just take a closer look and you will see yourself in me
So, let me help you find you and you help me find me
All you have to do is trust me
Trust me that I’m not your enemy
I am your helper, your friend
Looking for peace, just as you….



    “Dude, me I don’t have the strength for all this blackmailing ish o. I just don’t have the stomach for it. I don’t think I can go on o”
     “Tade, my man, you don’t understand anything, do you? Of course, you don’t. If you did, you won’t open your mouth and yarn crap”.
      “But dude, this babe can give me this cash without blackmailing her, she has been kind to me since we met and doing this to her feels as if I’m betraying the trust she had in me. The thought of that just makes me nauseous”
      “Well, that’s your business. You owe me for ruining that deal with Skipper and if you want me to let you off the hook, this is the only way out, okay? Be a man and stop being a bitch”.
      “You should take that advice, you know. Quit being a bitch and let this babe go. I will get the money you need from somewhere else, just give me time to figure how to go about that”
     “We don’t have that time, okay. Skipper wants his money back by next week and this babe is our only ticket to raising a million naija in such a time”
    “See, I’m sure I can talk to Skipper. He owes me for some stuff I did for him back in the day. That should buy us more time”.
     “Well, that’s your business. Go to Skipper if you want, I don’t care. All I want is for that money settled before Skipper sends his boys after us, you dig? Do whatever you want, just get me that money”.

I watched him storm out of my apartment kicking things as if they were responsible for my decision. I could not blame him for being so irrational about the whole issue. Skipper was a hard man to please and a harder man when you cross his path. Sighing heavily, I sat on the floor enjoying for a moment the feel of the cool marble. I was in soup, a very big pout of steaming and spicy soup. I had to look for a way to give Skipper back his money. It was true that Skipper would extend the time if I went to him but a million naira was a lot of money to raise even if I was given a year. I had nobody to turn to. I hit my forehead with my palm that would not stop sweating. I wished I was back at home with everyone at my beck and call, where things were so easy, where a million naira was like one kobo. I wished things were different, I wished to wake up and have Skipper and his troubles behind me but wishes were just that, wishes. It was not time to wish, it was time to act. I picked my phone and played the video that was supposed to be my saviour. I was about to scold myself for wishing I had the balls to go ahead with the original plan but I remembered I only had my wishes; they were the only thing close to hope at that moment.


I watched her as she moved about in the kitchen, making funny dance steps while singing loudly in a very loud but strangely cool voice. She looked so at home in the very big kitchen and anyone that walked in would have thought she was the madam of the house; she looked the part. Dressed in a jalamia that was almost twice her size but still managed to look good on her. Her hair was packed in a ponytail and plaited at the tip. No one would have guessed she worked dancing with her clothes off in front of horny men who would not stay in their homes with their wives. I hissed at that thought. Men were just bunch of fools, staying away from their homes as if their children and wives didn’t deserve their time. How many times as a child had I wished my father would just spend time with me and my mother? I could still remember the times my mother would beg my father to stay with her, groveling as if she was a slave and not his wife.

The only times we spent times together were on days we had to go to church as a happy family, smiling, hugging and exchanging little kisses that made everyone want to have a happy family like ours. They had no clue what was going on behind the church gates. As far as anyone was concerned, my father was a loving father who was devoted to the work of God an his family. Devoted, he was, yes but to the church and never to the us. Most times, I wished he was spending time in the club house watching naked girls dance or humping different girls from the choir every night. At least, I would justify him neglecting my mother even when she was sick and dying. My father was not different from those men that crawled about strange women. As far as I was concerned he was a man who neglected his family for another lover, his was just religion. I shook my head at the familiar anger spreading through my core. I did not need my father and his sinful righteousness at the moment to disrupt my plans, I needed to stay focused.


I turned back to see Clara standing by the doorways, arms folded across her chest. She looked like she was lost in her thoughts. I stopped the music, removed the earpiece and went to her side.

     “Aunty Clara, it is too early to be thinking o”

She jumped, turned and managed a dry laughter. I knew she did not see walk to her side and I had startled her.
     “Don’t tell me the smell of my food was what entranced you”
     “Very funny. The food doesn’t smell that good jo”
     “Ah”, I touched my chest to feign hurt, “you just bruised my ego. I may never cook again after this”

She laughed heartily and hit my shoulder.

      “Don’t be such a cry baby”, she stuck out her tongue and I could not stop the laughter at the sight. With her expensive weave-on in bending rollers and her face void of make-up, she looked like a child.

     “You people should stop laughing and serve the food already, I am starving”

I looked back to see Oyebola rubbing her belly and trying to look like a starved child but failing, the mischievous smile on her face gave her away.

     “Wait jo, you too like food”, Clara said, rolling her eyes.
     “Before nko, I love food and I love it very hot, fresh from the fire”
      “Foodie”, Sandra said and yawned.
       “Cover your mouth jo, don’t pollute the food”

We all laughed at Oyebola’s retort and for that moment we looked like sisters waking up on a very beautiful day with no skeletons to hide. Everyone was laughing and make jokes at the other’s expense. It was exciting and it reminded of a time in the past where I would wake up and try to make fun of my mom and siblings. Tears began to pool in my eyes and I fought it back. I would never cry, not in front of anybody. A phone ringing in the distance brought me back to the present. Clara looked at the phone and looked at the rest of us as if she was deciding whether to the take the phone call in front of us. She stepped out and we all waited in silence for her to come back. When she returned, her hands were shaking and she was sweating. She turned to me and looked at me with anger seething through every pore on her body.

     “We can’t wait any longer. It’s time to take care of this issue”

Written by Dako. A. Temitope



Hello everyone… I know many of you are crossed with me… I am sorry please, forgive me. I have not changed the posting days for this series, it is still Fridays. I was supposed to post a short story today but everything I write takes me back to this series, which I kind of think is a good thing (never felt this way about any series). So enjoy the 6th episode of Till Sex Do Us Part… Don’t forget to leave a comment (I love reading your comments) and Share with your friends, help this ministry grow (Lol). Lastly, you can subscribe to my bbm channel: C00446F02 to recieve updates about new posts, book suggestions etc.


I saw colours first, flashing boldly threatening to blind me and I began to drown, struggling to stay afloat but failing. Then, I saw black with fingers clawed like a wild bird, snatching what’s left of my breathe. His face, contorted in ecstasy, was the last thing I saw as I surrendered to the darkness that suddenly felt safer than my reality.

Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep….

The sound was so loud and it made my head throb badly. With every beep, it felt as if my head was being hit with a mallet; shattering into little painful pieces and then fixed together to be shattered again. I needed to get away from that sound, I could no longer bear it. I tried to open my eyes but I could not. I tried moving my fingers, it wouldn’t budge too. It was as if I was disconnected from my body. I wanted to scream for help but my throat was dry, it could not even manage a croak. I was still trying to find a way to connect my body back to its soul when I heard footsteps. “Oh, great. Help is here”, I thought but the feet just shuffled around the room, touching my body here and there without any attempt to stop the noise. “Help me, stop that noise please” but my plea never made it pass my mind.

“Ma, we need to talk. There has been some fresh development”
“Say whatever you have to say, I have no time. I have to rush back to the office”
“It’s private and we can’t discuss this here. If we can just go somewhere private”
“Why are you looking at the doctor as if he is the villain here. I told you who to arrest”
“Mrs Delami, protocol says we discuss this in private. We can discuss this in my office”.
“You have news for me and you’re suddenly bothered about the environment. Speak your mind, officer. What is going on?”
“It will be better if we do this in my office, ma”
“Oh, please. Say what you have to say and say it here. I don’t have that much time to waste. I have people waiting for me.”

The woman’s voice was loud and there was something familiar about the small but firm voice. I rummaged my mind for where I had heard the voice before but that made my head hurt worse.

“Mrs Delami, you are one hell of a woman. I would think this whole thing does not bother you at all”.
“You think I’m not bothered? Why? Because I don’t want to discuss this in private with you?”
“Doctor, can you just excuse for a while? I need to have a word with madam here, privately”

I could sense the anger radiating through every word he said. I began to wonder why he was so angry.

“Now that we are alone, talk. I don’t have much time”
“Tee, this is your child for crying out loud. You are going on about your business as if she’s not yours? Don’t you have a bone of sympathy in your body?
“Don’t preach to me, don’t. I do everything to provide for her, work my ass off every day to make sure she is comfortable but what did I get in return, she goes to get herself raped. How can she be so stupid to get raped, ehn, how?”
“Wow. Did you just say that? Did I really just hear that from you? How does a 10 year old wish to go through something like this? How? You think she wants to live the rest of her life in fear of every man that passes by her? You think she did that to herself on purpose?”
“It’s her fault. She would have taunted that asshole in one way or another. See, I don’t have time for story or who did the wrong thing. Just find the fool and arrest him”

My heart started beating wildly in my chest. Pictures started flooding my mind, memory of that cold afternoon invading the darkness. I saw his eyes; dark and filled emotions I could not decipher. I heard his groans; teasing and mocking me but that small but firm voice kept screaming “it’s your fault”. I screamed so loud in my mind so it could drown the voice and I suddenly craved the peace that came with being disconnected with my body. I wanted to desperately crawl back into the darkness but bright light and a subtle earthquake invaded my journey.

   “Wake up, Sandra. Wake up”, the voice was gentle but the earthquake was not as gentle. My head ached with every move and I wanted to go back to that peaceful dark place but the earthquake won’t allow me and the voices too.

    “Omo, shey we will not pour water on her like this?”
    “Come on, there’s no need for water. She will soon wake up”

I opened my eyes and saw three confused faces peering down at me. I became aware of where I was. I was not that little girl anymore, I was out of coma a long time ago but the nightmare stayed with me. I sighed heavily and asked for water and painkiller; my head was aching badly and I was feeling very weak. Clara brought me a glass of water and a blister pack of panadol that was untouched.

    “Thank you guys, it was just a nightmare. I will be fine.”
    “Nightmare? You screamed so loud we thought something bad had happened to you. Ala yen lagbara niyen o”, Oyebola said.
    “Yeah, I was terrified, really terrified”, Clara said, folding her arms across her chest.
    “Guys, it’s nothing. I am fine. I am sorry to scare you guys”
     “Well, thank God it’s nothing. You guys can go back to bed, I will stay here to play babysitter. After all, you are my responsibility till you move out of this house”
      “No, Clara, we are all in this together. We will all play babysitter”, Plum said.
       “Plum, there’s no need for that. I will be fine”
       “Nah, we are here to help each other remember? And that’s what we will do”, she said with a gentle smile that made me feel safe.
       “That’s true, Clara. Our work starts now”.

I smiled weakly. The drug was already numbing my headache and making me drowsy but if the girls were going to play babysitter, I had one request.
     “I will say Yes if Plum says her real name”
Andrea was all I heard as I allowed sleep to kidnap me.


Whatever made me say my name, I could not say. Maybe it was because I had suddenly realised these girls were just as broken as I was. When I heard the loud scream, I had almost believed it was coming from me. Her body and bed sheets damp with sweat, her eyes filled with fear and sadness and her denial reminded me so much about myself. It was as if I was looking and listening to myself in another body talk. I remember those nights I had been jerked awake by own screams, looking around frantically to see if my predator was lurking around somewhere. The tears of relief that followed every victorious confirmation that I was only dreaming would flow freely but would not stop the fear from growing mightier in my mind. I was so scared I became afraid of my own shadow and when I could not hold it any longer, I turned to the fake comfort the loud music, alcohol, narcotics provided. I had so drowned myself in that fake peace I told myself was all I need.

I looked at the girl, curled in a fetal position clutching her pillow to her chest as if it was a shield of some sort. I did not see Clara, I saw myself; the weak, pitiable girl that could not do anything to save herself much less the people she loved.
      “Andrea”, I said again but this time, for my ears only. It was time to for Andrea to find herself.

Episode 7 comes up tomorrow (Friday)…

Written by Dako. A. Temitope

INKSPRESSION: Men Who Cook Are The Real Deal

Wouldn’t it be pleasant to get home one day from a hectic day at work or you came to visit your man for the weekend in a bid to get away from the stress imposed by the harsh weather and condition of nigeria to meet your man in the kitchen with an apron tied around his neck making efforts to put together a wonderful meal for the woman in his life? It will definitely be amazing to put your feet up and watch your favourtite sitcom with your favourite drink or icecream and whatever snack to go with it or just soak yourself in a warm bath with smelling aromatherapy bath salts and a glass of red wine with a gentle music playing in the background while your man runs around in the kitchen to put breakfast, lunch or dinner together for you. Although most men may see this act as a sign of weakness, trust me, it is by far one of the most romantic things you can ever do for your boo.

According to most traditions, the place of a woman is the kitchen. Men are meant to provide for the family. He is the head of the house; he is to be fed and taken care of but there is something very romantic (even sexy) about a man chopping, dicing, measuring, etc. Cooking is one of the most wonderful gestures that shows a man cares enough to relieve you of some your daily stress. It shows that he is ready to go extra mile for you. Cooking for your woman means you want to play a role of nurturing her with good food. It is not a sign of weakness or in touch with their feminine side (which is not a bad thing) as many view it but it’s the same type of care women would put into food as they would to take care of someone when they are sick.

For me, my man cooking for me is a sign that he wants to be there for me through and true. It is not easy for a man to stay in the kitchen for over 15 minutes trying to make up something for you to put in your stomach. Even if it is water for tea he is boiling, the act always makes you feel loved. I mean, who does not enjoy a tasty meal prepared by a man you love and admire. Even if it doesn’t taste good or it has too much salt or too much pepper, it doesn’t really matter. It is all about the thought that went into it. Women love to see men show the love they say they feel and cooking is one of the ways you can show your wife, girlfriend, fiancee that you really care.

Don’t hesitate to cook for the woman in your life just to spice things up. You can do something different by cooking something wonderful, out of the ordinary for her. Ditch the regular eateries or restaurants you take her to for lunch or dinner date. Make an effort by preparing a meal for her. If you can’t cook, there’s nothing bad in asking someone to teach you. That little effort shows a lot and will propel a whole lot of positive results. Be creative while setting the table. Candles, flowers can never be out of style. You can set the table outside (for those that live in cool and neat areas). Have dinner with the moon and stars as your witness… Trust me, you’ll be reaping the fruits of that gesture for months to come.

If you know cooking is hectic and you can’t stand the heat in the kitchen, try and help with the dishes. There’s nothing bad in helping to wash the dishes. It is an effort and the gesture is also very welcomed. As you guys bond via football, we form bonds in the kitchen. Help your girl in the kitchen today, you may just be surprised at the things that happen there *winks*

Written by Dako. A. Temitope


Until July, 2014, Ebola must have sounded like an unrealistic virus to some Nigerians. Those that heard about the outbreak of the viral disease in Guinea and then Liberia never bothered to do a further research about it; after all, it was in Guinea and not Nigeria while some chose to deny its existence. Only few people took their time to find out about the disease and create awareness for it on social media networks, making it a point to forward information about the virus from WHO to people around them. I, for one, was not so bothered about it because I figured it was happening far away from Nigeria and we have nothing to worry about especially after unconfirmed and false news started flying about that it was already in Lagos. Someone even said maybe it was a ploy to distract the government from finding the missing girls. Let’s tackle boko haram and the missing girls and leave Ebola alone, the person said.

Welll, things changed when Patrick Sawyer visited Nigeria and the disease became very “real”. Everyone decided to take Ebola seriously. Some pople started taking every advice on how to counter the virus; even from untrustworthy sources and died through the process. There was the salt bath, kolanut consumption and some ignorantly went overboard out of fear of contacting the disease and did everything they heard. The sale of hand sanitizers, soaps, disinfectant was high and organisations made sure temperature was checked and your hand washed before you can be allowed inside. Even some politicians started using Ebola as a way to garner voters by making party-customised hand santizers (Smh). The sale of meat dropped and people became super conscious and cautious of their environments. I remember boarding a bus one time and the man seated beside was constantly shifting in his seat to avoid any form of contact with me. Nobody wan die. For the first time in my life, I witnessed Nigerians taking warnings from radio stations, television, newspapers very seriously. At that time, all that mattered was “Ebola must not catch me”. The government, impressively I must add, did everything they could to fight Ebola and gladly, we won.

On the 26th of October, World Health Organisation declared Nigeria free from Ebola after 42 days, which was twice the incubation period of the virus, a case of infection was last reported. People received the news with joy since it is the best thing that has happened to the country in a long time. The containment and eradication of Ebola spelt hope (if Nigeria, with a population so large, can contain Ebola, then we can get rid of corruption, terrorism, poverty and those things bad things people believe is a part and parcel of the country). But now that we have gotten rid of Ebola, Nigerians should not relax where personal hygiene is concerned. Don’t throw your hand sanitizers and soaps out the window just because there is no need for it anymore. Nigerians should realise that:

– Ebola is not the enemy, ignorance and negligence kills faster than any disease. You should always inquire from safe sources the different ways to stay healthy, safe and alive. Find out what’s good for you.

– Cleanliness is a key factor to a healthy life. Always make it a point to keep your environments clean. Work on your personal hygiene. Wash your hands with soap as much as you can, it kills the germs and bacteria you may have picked from touching something that may not even look dirty. Hand sanitizers also protect your from germs that may be harmful to your body.

– Never assume. Constant medical check up is good for you. Because it looks like fever doesn’t mean it is fever. Don’t indulge in self-diagnosis and then treat yourself with drugs purchased over the counter without proper diagnosis or prescription. Don’t take the place of your doctor, go to a hospital to be checked before it is too late

– Watch what you eat and drink, where you buy your food from especially those that are fond of eating out. Since we are not sure where these cooks get their raw products from or how well the clean them or cook them, it is safer to eat in your house even if all you can cook is noodles. Even house helps are not so safe anymore. Always be concerned about what you push down your throat. Food poisoning, diarrhea, dysentery are very real.

You owe it to yourself to live and enjoy a healthy life. What use is all the money you have when you spend it on hospital bills and drugs. Eat healthy, drink healthy, live healthy, stay healthy.

Written by Dako. A. Temitope


If I had a penny for every time I told myself I could not do it and I should just be contented with being a side kick, I would be a rich woman. If I could count the days I decided I was going to stop being a coward, take that bold step to do what I had always wanted to do and then chicken out because someone told me that I was not good enough and would always be a mediocre, I would get lost counting. Or if I could think of the days I ran into my shell to hide because I allowed all the things that had happened to me, had heard stop me from taking bigger risks, I would probably be lying in the hospital getting treated for hypertension or worse, a stroke. And if I could scream for every time I doubted who I am and wanted desperately for someone else to approve of me, when they don’t even know who I am and what I stand for, I would damage my voice box. If I had a story for every minute I sat down hoping to be like someone else when I could just be myself, I would have the longest book ever published in the world. I doubted myself so badly that it took a lot of painful experiences to realize that I am better than I had always thought myself to be. I allowed myself to be pushed about, not because they are better than but because I allowed myself to think they were better and I was always going to be “not good enough”. It doesn’t even matter how many inspirational books I’ve read to encourage myself and to somewhat deceive myself that I was reading to develop the courage i need to stand out. Until I realised the efficacy of my potentials, I was always going to settle for less.

Maybe you are like me who has had a very rough and interesting (I won’t call it messy) times in the past and you are just afraid to explore new grounds in a bid to keep it safe. You are often so worried about what people had said to you in the past, what they are dumping in your head at the moment or what you would hear in the future and so you skipped taking risks totally. Maybe you even know you have something worthy to showcase to the world but fear of the unknown has held you prisoner and you refused to try new things at all. Because you’ve failed in the past, you’ve concluded that you will always be a failure. Your self esteem is zero because you think you are not so beautiful or you are too fat or too thin or because you are not as good as your friends or siblings. When you around these people, all you want to do is be invisible. You’ve been intimidated for so long that when you finally get the chance to show who you and what you carry on the inside to the world, you pass it on to another person just because you think no good can come out of you. You have conditioned yourself to believe you will always be nothing important, you will always be a spectator to something you have the power to control.

Guess what? You are right. No good can come out of you until you take that decision to discover who you really are. Until you are tired of being pushed about by those people you think are better than you, until you are tired of being disappointed, cheated and never taken serious, you will always be that person with no relevance. It took the most painful experiences to teach me that I will never earn my say or respect until I give people a reason to find me respectable. I had to decide I was done being anybody’s puppet. I was going to stand and be who I am and not who I want people to think I am because I am afraid of their opinions. I had to discard all those inspirational books and search within for that strength I had locked up inside of me. If you want to be taken seriously, if you want to be important, no one can do that for you except yourself.

You are the limitation, the obstacle stopping you from being more than what you are today. You have a voice that’s stronger than anyone else’s, do not let your past, your situation, your condition stop you from speaking so loudly. It doesn’t matter how tiny you think your voice is, someone needs that voice to survive. Someone is waiting on you to be saved. What I have also discovered is that you have something embedded in you not for yourself but for people around you who need that thing to live. For every time you shut your mouth because “you are not good enough”, think of that person somewhere waiting for you to speak out, hoping you would be strong enough to use that special voice of yours.

As for the fear of failing, just discard it. When you fail, it is just a way of redirecting you to a better way to do that thing. Failure is not the end of life, refusing to rise again is. Don’t be scared of those things that pose as obstacles. Even when nobody believes in you, the belief you have in yourself should be enough to not be bothered about anybody else’s. You don’t need everybody by your side. When you begin to please everyone around you, you lose sight of who you are and the God that can showcase His ability in your inability. Ask yourself, whose side do you want to be; the side of the limitless God or the man He created, someone with flaws and limitations.

So, step out today with the decision to start living for yourself and not for others. Remember you always have a choice; to stand out or to pushed about. Stop looking for others to save you and start looking to save others; start being a hero. Roar as loud as you can, you are the king in your jungle. Be outstanding and no one can stop you, except you.

Written by Dako. A. Temitope

Announcement! Announcement!! Announcement!!!

Hello everyone, I sincerely apologise for being away for some weeks now. I’ve been working on so many things and finally trying to put together what I’ve been telling myself I could not do. Last year, on my birthday to be precise, I made certain decisions about my life and it took 9 long months and some really painful experience to put me back on track. Anyways, I think everything happened to make me conscious of all those things I said I was going to do and all the changes I was going to make. I had almost even given up on this year totally, postponing everything till next year but hey, 3 months is more than enough to start making those changes.

Amongst the things I planned to do was turn my blog into a mini online magazine of some sort where I can put all my editorial talent into good practise. Who knows, this may open the door for bigger opportunities like my very own magazine in print and a television/radio program; the beginning of that media house I’ve always wanted to start. After all, no dream is too big and no dreamer is too small, right?

So, starting from Monday, 27th of October, 2014, I will be adding new sections to my blog; ink-terview with writers, movie-ing lessons from my favourite movies and animations of all times, book reviews and so many other things and no, I won’t stop posting series, short stories and poems. We will have weekly challenges too, to spice things up. I am already excited about the whole thing and can’t wait to get started. And when it’s some weeks to my birthday, I will be announcing a big challenge. It may not be so big but it will be fun and there will be small prizes to be won.

Special thank you to a very wonderful friend, Moyosore, who has been telling me it’s high time I did my thing. I appreciate you and I hope this will motivate you enough to get started with that “thing”. I am grateful to everyone who believe in me and think I have a gift, my readers and everybody.

Isaacola, God bless you and reward your kindness. Seye, my special special backbone, what can I say. Oluwaseun, sister and friend and a dream pusher, I love you die. Funmi and Florence, big sisters that I’m forever grateful for, awesome sisters. Ayomidotun, well, you have your terrible sides but you motivated some of these changes. Dennis Agyeman, my silent inspiration. Susan, a class of inspiration and dream pusher on its own. Babe, you are too gbaski. And to so many people who have pushed me forward when I doubted myself, you inspired these changes and The Inkheart is grateful!!! Even those that said I was no good, I am grateful still.

A very special birthday shout out to my namesake, friend and closet sweetheart (Lol), Doctor Temitope (not you Topazo). Heaven must have wept when an angel like you left for earth… The whole world is blessed to have you. I am blessed to know you. Keep saving lives, doc.

Written by Dako. A. Temitope


Hello everyone.. I am so sorry I’ve been so unfaithful. No excuse, have just been busy studying and sharpening some of my other skills that are dormant. I promise promise myself to be faithful. Anyhow, I did some thinking and this story panned out even wider in my mind (I hope to do justice to it). I didn’t want to be stingy and just write the story as I want, so bear with me with the slight changes I am going to make but it won’t be confusing changes. I am going to be sharing the episodes into different parts, with their own titles. Four the first 4 episodes of this series, I will title it THE MEETING. The stories are still the same but feel free to go back if you are confused other ask me questions. Please drop your comments; it’s a good way to encourage a learner like me and point out some mistakes. Thank you to those who’ve been dropping comments in the past and the ghost readers too. You all make writing a worthy experience. Now to the story.



I looked at the address written on a piece of paper in my hand and then at the building. The address that was written boldly in white paint on a back background matched with the one in the dirty paper I was holding but I was still not sure I had gotten to the right building. I stood there drinking in the sight and doubting if I had really gotten to where I was going to. In all my years on earth, I had only passed by houses like that and it was always too brief that I could properly admire it. Standing in front of a magnificent house like that gave me this feeling as if I was dreaming.
         “Aunty, abeg comot money from purse pay me and carry your bag dey go”

I looked back to see an impatient and irritated cab driver. I had completely forgotten that he was there at all. He stretched my bag to me and I suddenly wished I had really taken the advice of my subconscious. The bag was not an old one but it was not good enough for the house. I should have bought something sophisticated so I won’t feel out of place but I never knew I was coming to such a beautiful. When I got the address, I had pictured a two bedroom apartment, appropriately furnished to a spinster’s taste; nothing too extravagant to put me off balance but I had imagined wrong. I removed two worn 1000naira notes from my purse and gave the man. He looked at the money and then me. The look on his face showed he was not pleased with what I had given him and was not sure if he should protest or not. I put up my “Try arguing and get a knockout slap” face and he went to car with head bent, obviously cursing me for being such a stingy customer. Nigerian drivers and exploiting people. He had seen a beautiful house and has imagined I would drop a big bundle of naira notes in his laps. I laughed sarcastically and straightened my clothes. I know I’ve never seen wealth that much my entire life but I had to not show it. If I would pretend, I would. I would not want these people to think I was with them just because I perceived they were swimming in money.


I kept throwing clothes into my suitcase without bothering with them being wrinkled. I was in a haste to leave my house. I had promised the girls that I would show up very soon and my mother was making my life unbearable with her words that I could not wait to be done.
     “Sandra, are you pretending not to hear me? Are you? I carried you in my womb for 9 months…”

I could not hold it any longer, I burst out in anger

      “Yes, I know. You were in labour for more than 19 hours and had to sleep at the hospital for weeks because the doctor said my lungs were not fully developed. You took care of me all by yourself without the help of any useless man. I know all that. You’ve been hammering it in my ears since I could feed myself without your help. Mom, I know alright, so don’t bore me with that story. I am sick of it”.

My eyes were hurting me from the tears I refused to share in front of my mother and my throat was aching. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went back to throwing clothes into my box. I could feel my mother’s eyes boring scalding holes into my back but I was not bothered. She had made me feel like a little girl for too long, like I could never do right and I was suddenly tired. I was not sure if it was because I had finally found hope of healing, of letting the past go. I was just tired of all the negativity my mother was spewing.
      “Olusola, you know I am still your mother right? Because you found the heart to say no to that weakling you were madly in love with doesn’t mean you can say trash to me. You dare not sef, you will listen to me and so exactly as I say. You are not moving an inch out of this house, okay?”

She picked up my box, scattering the clothes all over the floor.I wanted to slap her badly but all I did was step to the side and looked at her with all the venom I could muster wishing looks could kill.
      “You can’t stop me, mom even if you strip my clothes off me. I would still walk out of here naked. I hope you die a lonely woman with the knowledge that you pushed me out of your life. Gosh, you are reeking of bitterness”

I picked up my handbag and stormed out of the house. I got into my car and did not stop driving till I got to my destination. I bent my head and cried for a past and mother, for the last time. I allowed hope for a better future fill my heart.


I was born with a silver spoon and bred with a golden one. When my parents died, I was left with more than enough to feed my kids with diamond spoons but all the wealth I have in my possession did not stop me from being shocked at the house Clara had told us to come and stay while we help each other. I had thought I was coming to a normal apartment that was nothing close to expensive. Not that I was belittling Clara but for a pastor’s child, I had thought she would wear humility as a cloak and would do things moderately. The building was not moderate at all, it was a mini empire. The man that opened the gate for me was dressed so well, you would think he was the owner of the house in casual wears. I parked my car and was about to get down when I noticed Sandra in the car next to mine. She was cleaning her eyes and putting on a big and dark sunglasses. My heart went out to her and I felt like going to meet her to ask her what was wrong but I held by horses. It was barely our first day together after our meeting and I didn’t want to be perceived as a busy body. When she got down from the car, I got down too and walked to her side. She didn’t even notice I was beside her, she was so lost at the sight of the house. I smiled at her as she silently mouthed “wow”.
     “Almost like an empire, isn’t it?”

She jumped and when she saw I was the one, she smiled. Her smile was warm and very genuine.

     “You can say that again. Almost as if I’m not on earth anymore”
     “Very funny. Who knew being a pastor’s daughter was such a lucrative thing. To say, I prayed never to marry a pastor”

She laughed and hit me playfully.

     “Shh, don’t say it so loud. The walls have ears, you know”

There was something mischievous about her turned up lips. I liked her immediately.


I looked at the three beautiful women trying to make themselves comfortable in my too exquisite sitting room. I should have given them the address to my main apartment but I could not. I was running from Tade who had decided to rub salt into my injury by coming to my house to make his demands. I could not stand the humiliation that I would put my father through when the video comes out. Tade was asking for what I could afford but I was afraid he would use the video against me later when he needed more money. It was better to deal with the issue when it was fresh rather than wait till when you are knee deep in trouble. I needed to be away for a while and I figured the girls would enjoy staying here more because it had almost everything anyone would ever wish for. I knew they were thinking different things like what a pastor’s daughter was doing with a multi-million house. I smiled and went to meet them.

   “Welcome to by humble abode”
   “Humble? There’s nothing humble about this house o”, Oyebola said and I smiled.
   “Well, you are still welcome here. What will you guys like to drink or eat in case you are famished. I will have the maid take your things to your rooms.”
   Hmmm, you know before we eat or drink, I need you to give me an answer to this question. It’s out of curiosity though, don’t take it wrongly. Is being a pastor so profitable? This house is magnificent “, Oyebola asked. I knew she was going to ask. She was fond of saying things running through her mind before thinking. There was a collective gasp from Plum and Sandra but I did not mind. She wanted an answer and that’s what I would give her.

     “this was my mother’s. My father doesn’t even know I have it.”

I needed not to say more, the shock on their faces made me know they were not expecting that reply. I went to the kitchen and brought four flutes and a bottle of white wine.
     “Let’s make a toast girls, to the best days of our lives soon to come”

Written by Dako. A. Temitope