The Wedding…

“Though your mind is wicked,
Still your heart is filled with love.
You’re the good kind of evil,
One can’t be free of”
#King Ib Melody

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. I was so exhausted from working the previous day. From my office I could see my bed beckoning to me to return to its warm embrace and cuddle; a temptation I would have given anything to fall into, but I had to wait till work was over for the day and I drove home intoxicated with sleep and tiredness.

Nothing was more important to me in life than work. I was so into working I thought God created only men I never had time for any woman. At 28 I already had my own house with an interior deco worth over N4million; my workaholic life did pay off after all.

My friends thought I came into this world without a rod (that’s if you know what I mean. Well I think the ladies would since it’s their favorite lollipop) because all the years we’ve been together as friends, they have never accidentally met a woman in my house, not even a delivery woman dropping off pizza. I cried for two days when Wellington said I was the elder brother to Bob Risky. I never knew things were that bad. Lets not talk about what my mum thinks of me, believe me you’ll cry for me. I literally had to block her line, else my phone would have exploded from endless calls. Hmmmm…. Talk about being an only child. I think I may have taken the quote “this is a man’s world” a little too serious. I felt no woman had power over me or so I thought until fate introduced me to the lady…’Promise’.

I managed to leave my bed that morning, thanks to the sun that reminded me that it is one light NEPA can not cease as it strolled in through my window uninvited and snatched my beauty sleep from my eyes. Sluggishly I left my bed and did a few chores in the house all by myself (please don’t blame me) without a helping hand. When I was done I returned to my laptop to work and immediately I remembered I left a file in the office and I rushed to pick it up. On my way back, I wasn’t concentrating, I was busy looking at the file while driving. I have never matched my car brakes the way I did. Am sure even a dead man heard the screeching sound of the tires. I almost killed someone! Not just anyone but the most beautiful girl that has ever existed in a man’s world, my world!

I stepped out of the car rushing to see if I had hit the young lady. Upon drawing close to her, every English vocabulary I had ever known denied familiarity with my lips. I knew no words to speak and for a minute I could bet my heart stopped beating cause am sure the dust that God used to create other women is not the same He used to create this creature before me. Am pretty sure she’s not from earth. A Queen of some planet somewhere out there that came visiting. Immediately our eyes met, I became blind to everything else in the world. Believe me Medusa is an amateur where this lady is. Her gaze broke my years of Jerico defense wall and brought me on bended knees. If only I had shield covering my eyes that day, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Am sorry I almost knocked you down (where ever those words came from, seriously I don’t know) I wasn’t concentrating, it’s entirely my fault. I should have looked properly before crossing the road, I forgot it doesn’t belong to my dad, it’s my fault she said. Beauty and humor in one person. Chai!! This is Christmas in June!! So I thought. My name is Avalon as I reached out my hands to shake hers and she responded, my name is Promise. Please allow me make this up to you I said. Dinner tonight, any place of your choosing and please don’t say no. I didn’t even allow her think about it, I just made sure she agreed to my request. And of cause she agreed and the ride begun, only to my demise.

Days and months passed by. The bond between Promise and I was stronger than the certainty that day and night will always come so long as the earth remained. I never realized life could be this beautiful. I had always thought my solitary days were the best there was. From nowhere this scripture hit me “For this reason shall a man leave his mother and father and …”

Promise was my Eden that had no serpent. A genie that gave unlimited wishes not just three. My miracle like the days the Son of God walked the earth. I thanked God everyday for sending her down my path. Happiness was something I could touch not just an emotion I felt. My friends did thanksgiving in church when I introduced Promise to them. My mum took the next available flight when I told her I had a girlfriend. She wanted to see the girl that made me a man (like I never was). Everyone loved her, even the devil would refuse to harm her. She was loved by beings that were not even created. I was lost in her world and I forgot about mine. Of cause I had plans to marry her. I was obsessed by what I never believed in. The irony of life.

Promised travelled to see her parents. I missed her like I was denied oxygen. Within the days of her trip, I made the necessary plans on how to propose to her in such a way that angels would wish they’re humans. I consulted my friends and we came up with the best of ideas. Everything was just perfect! Within this period my colleague in the office had invited for a wedding in Lagos. I wished she was around so we could go together. Since my schedule wasn’t so pressing I decided to honor the invitation. On the day of the wedding, my colleague and I left for the venue. People were all seated. The crowd was impressing and we managed to find where to sit. The keyboardist played the bridal procession hymn and we all stood up. I sat at the extreme end of the pew, close to the isle. It gave me a clear view to see the couple when they each match in.

The bride started to walk down the isle. When she was close to where I was, I decided to turn and see who the lucky girl was and to my greatest unbelief, it was Promise!! My very own Promise! With the shock, I couldn’t say anything, I was speechless like the first day I saw her, but this time it was a different feeling. I didn’t understand what was happening. I wanted to say her name, but there was no voice. I had no words. My vocabularies abandoned me yet again. My mouth was moving but I wasn’t saying anything. Everyone was just staring at me. The whole church was silent. I was sweating under the cold air conditioned church and my eyes were blurry already. Hot tears burned my eyes. She was just staring at me, not able to say anything. I just walked out of the church, talking to myself not knowing I was walking towards an on coming vehicle. The driver held his brakes and gave the same screeching sound just like it happened between Promise and I the first time we met, but unfortunately her case wasn’t mine. The driver was driving too fast and there I was sweeping the road as I was rolling, so I was told though. I ended up in the hospital, with the shock of my live that I’ll never walk on my feet again. Oh, how I wished death had ended my sorrow when that driver knocked me down, for I am bound to the memories of Promise and her jilt all my days.

Inspired by: Promise Mathew
Written by: Ibiere Mathew a.k.a King Ib Melody



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I could see my memories replaying itself as I stared through the window of the moving train. I didn’t want to leave, but this was one of those situations where you are left without a choice. I grew up here and everything I had come to know about life came from this place that is about to become a shadow that vanishes from the rising of the early morning sun. I am not to reconnect in any way with this place.

Not a single memory is to come with me on this new trip of mine, if I really desire the peace of mind that I seek. But how can this be when I have a mind that stores all I have ever done and seen. Do I change my brain with another? Even if it was possible who would want to exchange his/her brain with mine and choose to live with this horrible memories of mine. Oh my! Dreadful they are! I would give anything to take them out.

My dad treated my mum so badly that even the devil came to him for advice on how to be wicked. Even if you don’t love a woman, the least you could do is send her back to her parents. Yes my mum made an in-correctable error and she was caught in the act. I wonder what she was thinking. Don’t ask me what she did; whatever you think she did is left for your mind to ponder on. But she doesn’t deserve all she got from a man that claims he once loved her beyond words could tell.

My dad went beyond the usual to the fearful kind of torture that even the worst kind of criminal would not receive. There were times he would wake in the morning and urinate on her face while she was still asleep. She would awake and see him laughing monstrously while zipping his trousers. There were times my mum would stay awake and not sleep just so she is not caught unaware of what her once loving husband might do. I could remember there was a time my father excreted on her mouth while she was sleeping. The kind of excrete that is watery, that makes it seem like you are purging.

She was locked indoors from dusk till dawn so that she doesn’t run away with me in order to escape the horror she has been facing. She was denied food for days. Sometimes she will be given food but no water. So many times she wished for death but death at the time was on a vacation. Nobody knew what was happening and that was the worst of it all; no one to come to her rescue.

My dad took me on a weekend trip and locked my mum as usual. She was in a pretty bad shape when we left. When we returned, we could perceive strange smell contaminating the air. Where is this smell coming from my dad asked? Immediately he opened the door we couldn’t breathe. My mum had died and began to decay within the days we had been gone. The smell was horrible. When my dad opened the room he had locked her in, she had already swollen, within seconds we began to hear the buzzing of flies.

Go pack your stuff, we are living this place for good and not coming back. What could I say or do. I was only 8 years old. Ever since the incident my dad kept me away from my mum. He played the role of both mum and dad and he was pretty good at it but no one could ever take her place for she was the sweetest thing next to honey. Now for the rest of my life this is all I will ever get to remember even though my father asked that I leave it all behind cause we are on a journey to a new start.

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naijaI could still remember the times when even before I was asked I would proudly say I’m a Nigerian! We were not the perfect country though, but we were envied by most countries who couldn’t be like us. Nations all around the world couldn’t help but do business with us because of our endless vast human and natural resources. The name ‘The Giant of Africa’ had its effect on people when spoken. Citizens of neighbouring countries would gladly give up their countries to be citizens of Nigeria. Talk about the many illegal migrants that flooded into the country through whatever means necessary, just to part take of her green pastures flowing with milk and honey.

With pride we sang our National Anthem. Right hand placed on our chest pledging our undying love and support to this great nation that God has blessed us with. Being born in Nigeria is practically being born in heaven. The peace and love that flooded in our hearts made us rich within and without. Our faces glowed with grace that could be held with the hand. It was tangible. We had everything in excess and everyone had a fair share; to an extent at least, but we were fine. The value of our ‘Naira’ matched all valued currencies in the world, even though not equally, but it was good. The memorable days of Kobo and N1 coin. Now they are but a dream.

Today! everything looks so dry like we are plagued with famine. How did we go from hero to zero. Did someone rub us of everything we had and left us to survive in a wilderness that has never felt the wet hands of rainfall? We are like a billionaire with money in his account yet begging for food to survive! thoughts unthinkable! Our water is no longer colourless and our land is no longer green; it’s flooded with the blood of the innocent. We can no longer farm on our lands because animals with horns and sharp swords deprive us of what’s ours and we are left to starve. Now it’s like the bad out weighs the good history told about us.

The voices that wail are more than the voices that sing. Hands folded in grief are more than hands lifted up in thanks. Families divided against one another because we think we are strangers carved out by different religions and traditions. We are now foreigners in our homeland, our motherland, given to us by our forefathers who fought for us. We now go in search of what has already been found and stand in long waiting queues baptized in the heat of the sun and bathing from our own sweat.

Are you mad or something, don’t you know you’re on the road? I was almost hit by an oncoming vehicle. I was lost in thoughts from thinking out loud and didn’t realise I had drifted from the track I was supposed to walk on. Thoughts of my beloved country made lose sight of myself and almost claimed my life in the process. Am sorry sir! came my response.

Though this may be our plight, yet am not discouraged. The sun soon will outshine this darkness that crept in while we slept in ignorance. We will once again take our stand as ‘The Giant of Africa’ and progress to ‘The Giant of the World’. Until this time fully comes, let us once again sing our National Anthem with pride!naija 1



…How can you tell me you forgot to call. Like seriously you forgot to call! Do you know how worried sick you got me. Do you know how many times I called your number but it wasn’t reachable. Only God knows the thoughts and imaginations that went through my mind. I thought something had happened to you. You had me worried sick! Now you’re telling me you forgot to call. Such you forgot to call.

Angrily I left the dinning table and went back to the bedroom. The golden rays of the sun was still illuminating the room bringing alongside it such beauty that only Gods creation can give.

Your guess is as good as mine. What actually happened back there. What dah hell is going on here. Is it that he doesn’t remember what went down last night between him and me. Does he not remember how his slap produced blood from my lips and made me look like a vampire that just finished sucking blood from an unfortunate victim; maybe a prostitute sha, cause they like patrolling the night. I wonder what they’re looking for. But why is he totally blank on what happened. Not even a single trace of reaction to the whole movie. The funny thing about the whole thing is that he wasn’t even drunk. Not even a stench of alcohol was on him. Else that would have been an excuse. How did I even agree to the whole ‘I forgot to call nonsense’. Did he cast a spell on me or something. God won’t you explain this mystery to me?

while I was still lost in thoughts my husband came into the room. With his puppy dog face and eyes like that of a sorry cat, he knelt down before me and took my hand. His smooth and tender hands, with the way his eyes were piercing into my soul sent my mind running wild on imaginations. His words literally made me paralyzed. All I could see was both of us standing naked like Adam and Eve in the garden and the pleasure was amazing. Honey… honey my husband tapped me back to reality. Have you been listening to me? To pretend I was listening I said ‘all these you’re saying does not justify what you did’. Before I could say another word a kiss that is more than all kisses was planted on my lips. Menh that was amazing!!! I didn’t even know when I said I forgive you and we went back to the dinning.

Honey could you please tell me what you think about this. What’s that my husband said. A friend of mine told me something yesterday. My husband was listening with the whole of his body. Talk about a man that like stories. I took a sip from my teacup. She told me something very strange and am still trying to figure out the explanation to it. It beats my imagination and am sure even great scholars and philosophers wouldn’t know what to say about it. It’s just something else. My husband who was already to anxious to hear said ‘enough of the suspense and spill na haba. Ah ah! what is it now. Is it your suspense or is it your story. Oya no vex. Abeg tell me wetin happen. After all you asked for my opinion and the story sef I neva hear. It’s alright ah I said. This is what she told me:
“my husband got back home from work some two nights ago. I heard his car horn and I waited for him to come inside. I was watching my favourite tv series. When I heard the door open I went to welcome him. Honey you are wel-gbosa!!! came a revolutionary kind of slap. I said it with such energy that could make you confront a hungry lion. Was it pure energy or anger that came from what he did to me that I was now telling him like a story… She asked her husband what she did that made him slap her like that. She was already crying and the slap produced blood.

The husband walked pass her and went into the room without saying a word. What actually annoys me the most (unconsciously I was already hitting the glass dinning table with such obvious anger that I almost broke it) is that the following morning the idiot man (stressing the ‘idiot man’ with every fibre of energy in me) did not remember anything about the previous night. He was totally blank on the whole matter. I was still hitting the dinning table and all that was on it was dancing. My husband called my attention to my expression and he was like haba! do you want to break the table ni. Why are you making it look like the story happened to you. Please don’t break my dinning table else you’ll buy it and am serious. With that response my angered flared and I didn’t know when I said to my husband ‘thunder from hell fire you dia. Lighting kill you dia’. Before I could cover my mouth the statement was already complete and all I heard was the splash of glass…to be continued


…My husband didn’t know when he dropped the teacup he was holding. Twas like something else had taken over him. Like he was possessed by some strange being. He was just staring at me with eyes fixed like a hungry lion upon it’s prey. Honey please am so sorry don’t be angry (but why am I even apologizing, he is the one that owes me the real apology. After all he is the one am talking about) I was caught up in the story and I didn’t know when I uttered those words. Please it wasn’t intentional. Before I could step a little farther away from my husband, he pounced on me and gave me the beating of my life. I could still hear the screams in my head. A horrible sight it was. When he was satisfied he took his car key and stepped out of the house. There I was lying down. He didn’t know I had passed out during the beating festival.

When I finally woke up from my seemingly dead state. Everywhere was quiet. My mind began recalling the incident that took place. Did my husband just beat me and leave me for dead. Is this the man I married or is someone wearing his face? Cause the man I married will never do this to me. He didn’t beat me mixed colour (blue-black) he beat me pure black cause there’s no single trace of blue on my skin. I was looking like 12 midnight. Sounds funny right, but that’s the truth. God please if this is a dream, it’s ok I don’t want to dream again please wake me up. At least send your Angel to pinch me or something. What is happening to my marriage? I’ve not even been married for two years and this is already happening? What is happening to my husband. I cried my eyes out until there was nothing left to cry.

I managed to stand up from my place of misery. With the terrible pains I was feeling all over my body, I managed to clean the whole place cause it was terribly messed up. Luckily the dinning table was still intact. I guess my husband didn’t notice it was there else he would have used it on me. That means my spirit would have been the one telling this story. However possible that would have been I don’t. What even made my situation more helpless was that my mother had seriously warned me about third parties in my marriage. That whatever happened I shouldn’t tell anyone she inclusive. I had no choice but to play the good daughter. Even if I wanted to tell her, would I go to her grave to complain. My father’s own is not even part of the story caused he went missing when I was still a child, till today no one knows his whereabouts. Whether he is dead or alive no one knows. Talk about being an only child.

My husband returned home later in the day. I was already fast asleep trying to rest the pains I had gotten from ‘Muhammed Ali’ during his boxing match. I felt a warm kiss on my forehead and someone’s hands moving all over my body. I slowly opened my eyes and when I caught a glimpse of my husband I quickly pulled away from him as quickly as I could like I just saw a deadly snake. In this case I think he is more deadly than a snake. ‘Get away from me you bastard!!! You demon possessed fool!! Stay away from me and don’t you dare come near me you monster!!!’ I said these with every fibre of hatred and with the top of my voice I screamed. I threw everything I could find at him. Killing him was all I could think of.

Honey am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please am sorry. I know something happened but I can’t remember what I did. From the scars on your face and body I could tell I did raise my hands on you. I swear that wasn’t me. You know I will never do anything to hurt you. You know that from the depths of my heart I really do love you. Remember I swore to love you and I made that promise before God and the church. Oh no you don’t love me you imbecile! If you had you would have told me what dah hell was wrong with you even before we got married.

And how long have you had this mysterious problem of yours I asked my husband? For as long as I can remember. And it just comes on me just like that whether it is triggered or not. What!! For as long as you can remember and you never saw it fit to tell me. Are you crazy or something. I was afraid you were going to leave me if I told you. I have been too lonely all my life and I couldn’t bear it anymore and I decided to keep it to myself.

Thats how you slapped me last night when you returned from work and made me bleed. And this morning you didn’t remember a thing. I tried to tell you as a story to see if I could jog your memory but you remembered nothing. I was furious and angry because you didn’t and out of anger at your response I cursed you. And all of a sudden it’s like you were possessed by a demon. Just look at what you did to my face!!
What kills me right now is that you know you have this problem and you never told me. Who gave you the right to decide me fate Isaac. Why would you choose my destiny for me. Was I ever wrong to have fallen in love with you and loved you the way I did.

You should have allowed me take my chances. Why have you decided to make my life a living hell. What’s the possibility I will survive if I keep living with you. This explains the dream I had before we got married. How I saw myself lying dead in a coffin with blood stains all over me. But I thought it was wedding fever and I never took it serious. Honey please don’t say that. I’ll get help. I’ll see a doctor. I’ll do anything just to get better but please don’t talk about me killing you.

Please I beg you. For the love we share please do not let my error destroy our marriage I beg of you. I’ll get all the help there is just to fix me. This is the first time I’ve seen my husband cry. I just couldn’t help but feel pity for him. What can a loving wife do. All I could do was help him through this. For better or worse we said right. This is practical of those words. I thought all was going to be ok now since we both had a pinch of what was going on. I never knew what was coming was the beginning of the end…to be continued


The slap rotated me 360°. For a moment I thought I was the ceiling fan. I didn’t know when I asked the man in the television why he slap me thinking he was my husband. I was watching my favorite television series when my husband came back from work that night and turned my cheek to a disc jockey.

When I finally recognized my husband, I thought he came with a visitor I didn’t know I was seeing double. With tears rolling down my eyes with evidence of blood on my lips as a result of the redialing slap, I asked with a cracking voice that is about to produce a heartbreaking cry ho…ho…honey w…w…why did you hit me. What have I done? He looked at me without saying a word and pushed pass me abruptly. I stood there recalling all I could remember trying to figure out what I did that would anger my husband for him to do what he did. Fortunately I was innocent because my conscience was calm and peaceful like a steady stream.

He didn’t eat the food I prepared and within that short period we were like perfect strangers. We slept facing either side of the bedroom wall creating a middle space in the bed like there was a third person to join us in bed. My husband was already fast alseep and snoring and the sound was like Davido’s ‘Banana Fall on You’. Seriously it was that bad. Oh how I wish our kitchen fridge will just fall on him. But no it won’t. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep at 4:00a.m. My mind was tired from the research it was doing to explain what happened and my eyes tired from staring into the dark space of the room.

The beautiful rays of the sun came in through the window and smiled on my face brushing my lips with soft hands like a baby’s smooth butt. Slowly I opened my eyes and the thought of the previous night came rushing into my mind like a flood. While I was still robbing my eyes to release the intoxicating sleep, my feet touched the ground and I sharply returned it to bed because the ground was too cold as a result of the over chilling AC.

I managed to get out of bed. Came downstairs and found that the dinning was already set for breakfast. I started wandering if it was actually the sun that woke me up or the blessed aroma of what my husband had prepared. Well whatever it was doesn’t matter cause the sad memories of the previous night was all I could see.

Good morning! my blessed and graceful wife. One whose beauty makes the sun rise earlier than it should just to have a look at your face so it could shine upon the earth with happiness and mild light. Those words cut deep right through my heart. His poetic inclination made Shakespeare second best. Breakfast is served my love. Please come sit with me and satisfy my gaze with your elegance.

Am I dreaming or is this my husband’s twin brother. It can’t be because John is in the States and has no thought of coming back to Nigeria even if his life depended on it. He prefers hell to the country. I wouldn’t blame him tho. A country where illitrates governed the literate.

I slowly climbed down the stairs like someone that has been hypnotized still trying to gather whats going on. Finally I sat down and these are the words my husband gave birth to: “Am so sorry I came home late darling. I had a late night with the guys. You know it was friday and we decided to chill and before we knew it whoops time had gone. When I came home you were already fast alseep and I didn’t want to wake you up. You were looking so charming in your sleep. I know I should have called. Am so sorry I didn’t. Please lets eat”. And he prayed.

Me, with eyes opened to the greatest amazement of my life… What!!! And my husband was shocked because of my scream and asked: Honey whats wrong, did something happen?… to be continued


Just because its brown doesn’t mean it taste like chocolate. Love could be professed by anyone just like the same way witches carry the bible hiding their true self and nature. 
This is my story…

I hated my life for the wrong choice that I made. I was blinded by the beauty of the rose flower and didn’t notice the thorns. Hell became heaven and heaven became a mirage. For the life I was living was the hell the ‘Holy Book’ talked about and my sweet adoring husband was the devil. Could there be love in darkness… laughing wryly.

Oh my God! is this blood from my eyes am I really crying blood. Wait, why am I even surprised. Tears no longer run down my cheeks exiting from my eyes. I have cried out every water from my body safe the blood flowing in my veins. Its surprising am still alive.

Its wasn’t always like this you know. All the lovely stories I used to hear about marriage and the rainbow colours around it I onced experienced.

The kind of love philosophers couldn’t define and words couldn’t express was what my husband showered me with. From our bedroom to every other part of the house I couldn’t feel the tiles; rose petals were the tiles I walked on. I became the first human goddess that ever lived. At some point it was like I was the husband of the house and my husband was the wife. My husband was doing everything in the house the word ‘chores’ could describe. Believe me it was a sight to behold. If there’s any cook in the world that’s better than my husband, it’s my husband himself.

We had amazing trips together and I could remember asking God not to send His Son to return to earth and take us to heaven because I already had my heaven on earth (talk about being selfish. what about others that are praying earnestly for His return…Oh if only you know with how much energy I pray in reverse for Christ to come and take me away. Am tired of this hell I call a life) or so I thought. Our honeymoon could only be described by a prophet who prophesize in tongues because English and other human languages would fail to complement how it felt.

Suddenly all this ended when one day I received an unexpected slap from my husband that sounded like ‘Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus’. What had happened that would make my husband turn my cheek to ‘Coke Music Studio’? … to be continued


Nelson Mandela of South Africa once said “Africa will never be recognized until Nigeria takes Her rightful place”.
The continent of Africa is like Bill Gate who is referred to as the richest man in the world, yet goes to a man who receives minimum wage to beg for support. Nigeria with a perfect heart condition yet survives on life support. If these paradox could make an illiterate ask the right questions, how much more questions will the man who has sound knowledge inquire?

Africa is a continent that is presented as an adult human that have many countries represented as body parts and Nigeria is the head. How will the other parts of the body know what to do if the head does not give instructions? And how can the head give directions when it doesn’t even it is the head? 

It is often said that the map of Africa is like a gun and Nigeria is the trigger. What ever it is that Africa ‘the gun’ is trying to kill, be it corruption, mismanagement of resources, the dread of religious fanatics along side all the ills that have presented itself like cancer; the possibility of this kill is a mirage until Nigeria the trigger is greased with oil because right now it is rusted!

Nigeria my beloved country, your sister countries are calling out to you for direction and guidance. Take your position as the head for you are called the ‘Giant of Africa’ the ‘First Born of he Mother Africa’ and let hope be rekindled as Africa leads the world to liberation.

The world awaits the manifestation of the sons and daughters of Africa, for we are the sons and daughters of God!