#Fragments King Kevwe

Hiya guys, so I decided to write a piece to a short story started by Ezim Osai on his blog (deltaninthewest.wordpress.com). The idea is that one writer starts the story and another writer continues it and another writer picks it up from there, #Fragments. So start off by reading his start King Kevwe and then mine :)

…changed for Kevwe.

Just before her 13th birthday, her father passed away from a prolonged illness. This time around Kevwe had no grand birthday party planned, no gifts were shared to her class, in fact, it was as if no one had remembered it was her birthday. Not even Kevwe. She had become reserved, she never spoke up in class as she would normally, she didn’t study for tests, and soon she was being called in to see the principal regarding her poor grades. Kevwe didn’t care for school anymore, she felt like a piece of her had died alongside her father. She loved him dearly, they were very close, people always said that the way she behaved showed her to be a true daughter of her father and that made her smile every time.

Since his death Kevwe had made some new friends, they hung around the Town Centre; her friends were known to be notorious but she hung out with them regardless. Her mother was never around to tell her off for being around them, she regularly made trips abroad and left Kevwe in the care of the lazy house helps that did not care what Kevwe was up to. Kevwe had grown fond of one of the boys she befriended. He was taller and much older than Kevwe; he was the smartest out of the lot and seemed to be the person they all looked up to. He came from the streets, he had no mother or father, yet he managed to teach himself up to the level someone of his age in the public schools should be at, she loved to watch him talk, he inspired her even though he was involved with this bad group. He would regularly confide in her his aspirations and asked questions about school…

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Angry black woman. #DemandforChangeNigeria

I am an angry black woman. I am an irritated, frustrated, enraged, infuriated black woman for many reasons on this very bleak day.Why would I be angry? I have many reasons to be angry but I’ll highlight the dominant issues today in this post.

I am an angry Nigerian woman because the people in my country are uneducated. Men do not value women, and women do not value themselves. Women are seen as a man’s property, an inanimate object that belongs to them. We are “supposed” to abide by the rules of the man against our will because he is the head and we are the neck of the house, but what is a head without a neck? Have you ever seen a headless chicken? They run around the place for a few seconds then collapse, dead and useless, that is a man without a woman, so why treat us like slaves in our own home? In Nigeria, marital rape is culturally accepted; it is seen as unrealistic for a man to rape is wife because of this. It is therefore not seen as a criminal offence, proving that the law in Nigeria is unfair to woman and has a gender bias (linking to the fact that a male child in most Nigerian families is favored compared to a female). Section 282 of the Penal Code, governing the North of Nigeria and Section 357 of the Criminal Code, governing the South, both exempt a husband from the definition of the offence of rape. The worst thing is that the women don’t know any better because they are not educated about themselves, they don’t know that they have the right to say no to their husbands, they believe they have to be submissive to the man, be a source of pleasure at all costs, even if it costs them their happiness. Many women that are being subjected to marital rape will not speak up for many reason, including; fear of their abuser’s retribution, inability to leave the relationship possibly because of their children, or they may not know that rape in marriage is against the law. I know there are people that will say why doesn’t she just get up and leave, but it is never that easy. Never. How can someone who stood in front of your family, in the presence of God at the alter, who professed his love for you, who possibly gave you children that are your pride and joy, rape you.

I am a frustrated Nigerian woman because my people read the bible with one eye open. They take the bible verse in Corinthians, which says, “wives should not deny their husbands” to the extreme. The problem is that many people don’t understand that rape isn’t just about the sex, sex is only the weapon used to dehumanize, humiliate, belittle the victim. The same bible also says, “Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them” (Colossians 3:19). Forced sex is not love and the bible is clear when it explains that a man should provide sexual satisfaction to his wife and she should do the same, mutuality reigns in the bedroom. Correct me if I am wrong, as I am not as knowledgeable as I could possibly about bible verses.

“If a man calls his wife to bed and she refuses, and then he sleeps angry, the angels shall curse her until he awakens.” Qur’an, 2.187 ‘they are garments for you and you are garments for them,” and this is how each spouse acts, emotionally, physically, and spiritually for the other. It is not sexual abuse rather, it is to protect the marriage bed and keep it undefiled, where each spouse rushes to fulfill the rights and desires of the other. Islam is a religion of peace, and honors women and most of the Hadith talks about how to treat women. Islam also says that ‘O ye who believe! Ye are forbidden to inherit women against their will. Nor should ye treat them with harshness, that ye may take away part of the dower ye have given them, except where they have been guilty of open lewdness; on the contrary live with them on a footing of kindness and equity. If ye take a dislike to them it may be that ye dislike a thing, and God brings about through it a great deal of good.’

Marital rape is seen as unAfrican or Eurocentric because my people are uneducated. Below is a link to my story very close to my heart, hopefully it will help you understand marital rape better and #DemandforChangeNigeria.


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Confessions Pt.1

I am sitting on the toilet seat, my pants are wrapped around my ankles in quite a twisted artistic fashion, I could see myself taking inspiration from the twisted cotton that make up my pants. I don’t actually need the loo but somehow sitting on the toilet seat with my pants up is unnatural and I feel a steady uneasiness that I might forget I have them on and wet myself which in turn will be downright embarrassing even though I am on my own. But what am I really doing sitting on the loo with my pants down to my ankles if I don’t want to take a leak? I am crying. I am pouring my soul out into my hands in form of a salt solutions that stream down my face rapidly, making it very difficult for my already poor eyes to see anything clearly. Why am I crying? I do not know why, but what I do know is that whatever is causing me to cry is filling my mind with pictures of knives, loneliness, cuts and bruises.

John 8: 32 – “and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free”

Look at me, starting by quoting a passage from the bible. I have pretty strong and personal views about religion and Christianity but that’s something I’d rather not discuss. This particular passage, however, I came across on my tumblr and remembered my mother quoting this to me several times when I would lie to her and she would try and coax me to tell the truth before proceeding to whoop my ass flat into a pancake, but now I’m looking at it from a different light.
“…The truth will set you free.”
The truth will set me free so where do I begin my confession.

I am the foulest, most disgusting, most selfish person you will ever come across. Why? I am a cheat. I have cheated. There you have it. I am a disgrace. But do you know the worst thing; I am also a hypocrite because I cannot stand a cheater, yet I am one. So basically I hate myself, makes me quite silly, right? I used to think so too, but I really do hate a cheat. I am not proud that I have cheated, but I have recently been confronted and criticized about my hypocrisy so let me confess it now. I don’t condone or promote it, nor would I say the circumstances of my relationship mattered at that point because I allowed my lips touch the lips of another man. The common question you ask someone that cheats/cheated or is cheating is why be with someone you will cheat on, why not break up? Simple answer, I don’t know. That obviously isn’t a very good answer; maybe I was a young horny teenager who didn’t take into consideration the implication of my actions at the time. But that doesn’t make it right, or justify my reason for doing what I did. I made my mistake and that is my cross to bear. For a long time I hated myself too, despised the ugliness I had done, it took me forever to leave it in the past and I know a part of me hasn’t but that old dog has been put down as long as I have learnt from it.
It still doesn’t change the fact I hate a cheat.

Anyway, my tears are now dry on my face. I think I must have been too engrossed in this write up. I still don’t know why I was crying so hysterically.

“…The truth will set you free.”

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Africans don’t suffer from depression/a revelation

Sometimes I want to run far away to a place where no one would find me. Not even my family or my friends, a place so far away not even the enemies that wish to ruin me will follow. I will start again there.

It feels weird writing again. I can not exactly say why I stopped but I know I am back now. I started writing as a way to explore my feelings and thoughts that were beginning to fill the prison that is my mind, pushing to its limit and almost driving me completely insane. I started writing to understand my prisoners and come to terms with them while trying to find myself in all of the chaos. I figured them out, down to the very last one but I never truly found myself. Instead I found this waste of space, an emptiness that was fading away, I found a pain that I buried deep inside of me and had completely forgotten about, I found a broken person and I got scared. I had come face to face with my demon and after all the lessons I had taught myself through my writing I fell to my knees and trembled with fear at the foot of my demon and she laughed. She laughed at my pathetic whimpering and made mockery of my pleas.

Today I hear her sniggering at my thoughts of running away; she is a constant reminder of woes.

But Africans don’t suffer from depression. I am not a weak person; I am a strong African woman.

Why are you depressed? If our people could make it through slavery, we can make it through anything.”

“When a black woman suffers from a mental disorder, the opinion is that she is weak. And weakness in black women is intolerable.”

“You should take your troubles to Jesus, not some stranger/psychiatrist.”

– A revelation-

It is not possible for you to understand my thoughts, nor would I ever want to reveal the darkness and hurt within me because you will shut your eyes and close your ears, nobody wants to be told the things that go on in my head. Nobody deserves to feel what I feel and so I will not share the demons of my mind with anyone, not even to my worst enemies. However, I will explain them in their most generic form.

I lack the motivation to do the simplest things. To get out of bed in the morning is a struggle. I don’t see the point in starting a day that will be filled with constant bullshit, wasting my energy on people that will eventually walk out of my life like everyone before them has done, so what is the point? Why would I want to put myself through the stress? I am most comfortable in my room, in my bed, I refuse to go out with my girls, I don’t want to go to the gym anymore, I don’t want to eat, I just want to sleep all day and all night. The things I love so much I don’t do anymore, because I simply cannot be bothered. It has become an effort to cook, so I don’t eat anymore, I developed painful ulcers that seem to be ugly little monsters clawing at my insides, eating away what’s left of me.

When I walk, I walk with demons on my back, pulling me out unto the road waiting for a car to run me over, throwing me over the bridge, pushing signs on me till I fall into a coma. Every single time I walk. It aches to feel the sudden pressure to attempt suicide, then having to rejig my mind to focus on moving my feet in my original direction. It is all both physically and mentally exhausting and sometimes I want to give up and end it all.

The crying never ends. It’s spontaneous, triggered by nothing, sometimes just a simple thought and I’m spilling waterfalls from my eyes. I am constantly filled to the brim with emotion that I have tried my best to hide but I can’t take it anymore.

I developed a social anxiety. I don’t want to be seen in public, I don’t want anyone to know me, to know I exist; I want to blend into the walls and escape as soon as possible. I used to enjoy going out, it was fun, I loved the loud music, the dancing, and the attention of course, but now, I get sick to my stomach before going out, it suddenly feels like I am naked in a room full of staring eyes. It makes me uncomfortable, yet I don’t want to be alone. I crave the company of another person, I want someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone that will always be there because most people that suffer from depression believe they have no one, and they don’t want to make attachments for the fear of being left alone and so they push people away. Out of the 7 billion 47 million people on this Earth they don’t believe they have the right to matter to anyone, they are sure that they are the problem and never the solution. Yet, they will smile, they will laugh with you, joke with you, be there for you, they won’t show you this side of them because they don’t want you to see what they are going through, they can not tell you and of course, you will never ask.

To me, the worst thing about the disorder is the way people react to it. You confide in someone and of course they will hug you, tell you everything will be okay, check up on you from time to time. In the beginning, everyone is there, but then they forget and you are on your own. But you don’t want to remind them because you don’t want the sympathy; you don’t want to seem like an attention seeker so you just deal with it internally, let it eat you up from inside out, and plaster a smile on your face, a joke on your tongue and say “I’m fine” even with tears in your eyes and scars across your wrists, and no one will ever question you.

There is a lack of understanding when it comes to mental disorders, people still say a lot of things that are not only wrong but incredibly harmful to people suffering from depression. Depression isn’t just feeling sad or down for a few days, it is a mental illness that affects you physically, emotionally and obviously, mentally. I could start listing all the things you shouldn’t say but what good would that do if you’re still going to think it? There are those that will tell you “cheer up!” ‘Lighten up!” “It can’t be that bad”, then there are the ones that will call you an attention seeker, tell you that you are selfish and you what you say you are, ones that will tell you that your problems are not as big as theirs. Some will give you what they believe is good advice, “smile more” “get a boy/girlfriend” “get a new hobby” “go to church, your depression is a punishment from God.” There’s the outrageous, “try chamomile tea” ”you’re a writer? This should be good for your blog right?”

“Leave me alone”

“Deal with it”

“You’re useless”

“Our thoughts and prayers are with you”

“Your depression is punishing the rest of us”

“I know what you’re going through”

Please don’t ever say any of these to someone that comes to you with his or her problems. The strength it takes to confide in someone is tremendous; you don’t know what this person might be going through. Be there for them, listen to them, and help them where you can. I beg you to educate yourself and educate people around you, let us remove this stigma around mental disorders.

If you know anyone that you think might be suffering from a mental disorder or if you feel that you might be, see a GP, it might just be the best decision you make. If you’re not confident enough to go on your own, get a friend to go with you or call one of the helplines below.

(Depression) Mind: 0300 123 3393 (Mon-Fri, 9am-6pm)

(Eating Disorders) Beat: 0845 634 1414 (Mon-Thurs, 1.30pm-4.30pm)

(Panic and Anxiety) No Panic: 0844 967 4848 (daily, 10am-10pm)

or talk to me, let me share with you what i’m going through and help you find a way out of it as I am.

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Skit V

“I feel myself falling into a downward spiral, after weeks of a constant high. I’m not sure why this time but I hope writing would release some of the emotional tension I have been experiencing.
My problem is that I’m still very much madly in love with my ex and it is probably the most pathetic experience I have been through and trust me when I say I’ve been in unbelievably pathetic situations numerous times. I am sorry you have to read this, honestly so sorry and it’s okay if you want to close the tab and toss a couple bullets my way. I will gladly accept them with all the grace I can muster. I am a weak, and pathetic person and I didn’t think I’d ever be this angry at myself. I am not the sort of person to remain in “post-breakup-sadness” for more than a day or two, a week max (depends on who, what and why?) but this has gone on for way too long. I can not simply get myself to not be upset when I think about A, I’ve tried my usual on-to-the-next state of mind, I’ve tried keeping myself busy, I’ve even tried to avoid common topics we shared but to no avail. I am stuck. I need to come unstuck. I don’t know, maybe I need closure or something but he gives me the cold shoulder every time I attempt a conversation. For the first time since I started this blog I am the one in need of help, I don’t have the answers and I really need them. I am sorry to put you through this but I had nowhere else to write this down and no other we to truly understand how I felt.
My dear reader I don’t know what to do.”

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Her Story

“At the age of twelve, I lost my innocence to a female. It was a gradual loss, a loss that I allowed to happen as a naïve child experiencing something new. She made me feel loved; she made me feel warmth where I didn’t know I could experience it. We experimented with this newfound warmth over a whole summer; we used each other to learn about ourselves. It was during this time I found out what I loved, and how to love another person but that novelty slowly died as I grew up in boarding school.

I lost my virginity at the age of 14 to someone I did not care for, please do not judge me for this, I was a fool looking for an outlet. To someone I did not love or felt any emotional attraction to. You can say this was the point of my downfall. I felt nothing for this person, but I had let him do to me what I should have kept as sacred as the bonsai trees that stand beside the alter today. I let him ruin me. I let him penetrate my soul and fill me with a lustful evil that resides within the depth of my mind, body and soul. I cannot tell you today why I let him do this to me. I cannot tell you what led to this event. The mind is powerful and mine has succeeded in blocking out the memory and burying it where I cannot find. I imagine this to be the point at which my innocence died and I became somewhat evil from the inside out. There was a growing lust/hate relationship for the male species within me. I learnt to utilise my God-given womanly parts and synchronise this with a mind of lust and evil to get what I required from men. I played games with their minds, I learnt the right sequence of wording to speak to a man to entrap him in this battle of lust and love that he cannot get out of. Like a fly in my web, and I am the black widow. Every man is different and so the tactics changed with the person. I played the game of men as a woman. I taught myself the alpha-male complex of which I lived by and stuck to, no matter the situation or consequence. I had to be in control.

The alpha-male complex in a female, gives her the ability to think in the way men do, and so behave accordingly. This led to many a problem in my life. I could no longer stick to one man; I had the ability to be with multiple people and due to the organisational skills passed genetically to me from my mother, I made no mistakes, ever. It didn’t matter how complicated it got, I had a different voice or personality or different way of dealing with each man, and I never forgot whose was whose. It is a terrible thing to be unable to commit, you can not love a person without the fear of cheating because it is unnatural for you, just like the fake cherry blossoms that line the aisle.

There was no one to talk to; I was alone feeding off the lustful acts I committed on an every-other-day basis. Evil cannot coincide with happiness my dear reader, it simply cannot. I had fallen into a black hole that consumed my heart and mind. I could not see the good in myself and required the touch of another to feel good about myself. When I was alone I saw darkness, nothingness, sadness, and a cold depression that made me feel worthless. I cannot bear to describe what depression feels like to you reader, I cannot bear to see another suffer from such a mental pain that almost destroyed my life. I would let you know this; depression is an inward struggle, like HIV or AIDS you cannot see it on my face, you will never know a person struggling with depression from yourself, so I encourage readers to take this into consideration when you speak to anyone from family members to strangers. It was the fact that he did not run when I told him my story that brought me to this place, where I stand at the end of the aisle in a beautiful dress, veil over my face, staring into the back of the head of the man whose aura makes me feel beautiful without his touch or his word. He became the light that will escape my black hole and the one that will pull me back into the real world, the one I will commit to forever.

This would be my beginning.

A happy beginning.”

Her true story.

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It has become such a regular thing for me not to post as often as I used to and then to come and apologize to my readers. I’m working on something bigger so please bear with.

I am currently sat on my bed in my room, supposed to getting my things together before I go out for what would hopefully be a great night with my people, but I have this feeling looming over me that I can not seem to shake that has forced me to sit here and write this post.

I feel incredibly and terribly lonely. I know that I may not look it, I may not act it, I may not most of the time even think of it but the feeling is still there. Not lonely in the sense that I have no friends or anything in that manner, because clearly, I do. I feel secluded, on my own, mentally, and that has an overpowering effect on the way I behave. I find myself keeping to myself more often, trying hard to be alone but hating it at the same time. I am naturally a social person, I love being around people most of the time, and so it is rather weird for me to be on my own a lot. I like to imagine that it’s the realization that I am no longer a kid and I am actually in charge of my own academic career, therefore I must do my own work in my own time, but I’d be lying, because aside from work I sit in my room all day listening to music and staring at my laptop screen.

It is depressing.

I feel depressed.

I feel tired.

I feel stressed.

I am angry.

I am lonely.



I want to feel good again. Feel loved and blessed and very much happy, but somehow only negative vibes are feeding through my channel and it is painful. It is such a shame because I can almost see all the love around me, from my family, friends and boyfriend but it doesn’t seem enough to pull me out of this dark horrible corner I have found myself in again.

I’m going to keep my chin up and plough on through, but I encourage anyone reading this post to always remain positive no matter what you’re going through, no matter how bad it is or how down you’re feeling, you just have to keep going on or it will drag you down and you will find it very difficult to get up again. Share positivity within your friendship groups, you never really know who may need it the most. It irks me to see or hear about friends fighting, your friends should be at your side, in front of you and behind you at all times, that is your squad, those are your people. Don’t fight with your friends over something stupid; it’s a waste of time and energy. Just send positive vibes, people like me need it the most.

Have a great night x

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