So, last night a friend of mine hit me up, we used to be quite cool back in UNIBEN and he had just written a book. I was still gushing with my praise, congratulations and “You know say my own signed copy na free naheehaw heehaw” when he added that he was having a book launch party planned. Naturally, my excitement tripled. I was seeing very visual visions of chatting, dinner and ehm…movies with the brunette sapiosexuals, when he brought me down to earth with: “Chris, can you help me out with the program. Like, what’s supposed to happen?”
That was when I realized, in typical Nigerian mien, Oga was planning a book launch party, and did not even know what it was going to be all about. So, I decided to write this post for those of you out there who are planning book launches and don’t know how to go about them. Continue reading “Guidelines to organizing a book launch in Nigeria”
Hi guys, long time? no, not really. today @janus_aneni is regaling us with one of his works. Enjoy
This is not..definitely, most definitely not..based on a true story. It’s just err..imaginations.
It was the first time I was meeting him face-to-face. I had seen a lot of pictures though. He hardly smiled in them. His head clean shaven and smooth, a full gray beard on his square chin, the piercing eyes glaring from behind steel rimmed glasses, face lined in thick unyielding folds.
He looked a bit like that old actor with the gruff voice.
The only time you saw him smile was when he was with his only daughter and last child. Then, his craggy face would split to reveal strong teeth in a very white grin, and those eyes would take on a tenderness completely foreign to that face. Any observer would tell, this man…
Hello, hi everyone. Merry Christmas..I guess. Jeez, my handwriting looks like something from an Egyptian graffiti wall (y’all know I write this in my Orange book before I type and post yeah? Okay
It’s been a while I wrote anything new, what with Tangles! done and finished, I’ve been in some sort of hibernation, reading stuff, writing zilch(my new word courtesy Ifeoma). So I had an Intervention and according to Obee,I should “…write a rant na! Or something about Pastor Jay so that people will laugh..”
Mscheeew..because it’s easy like that. (¬_¬)
Anyway, today, I am not going to write anything funny, not one thing. The idea is just to basically talk and you with almost nothing else to do, will listen/read.
But first a recap of recent achievements
So I finally watched The Avengers!
Yes..yes..y’all can congratulate me now. Thank you, thank you. It wasn’t easy you know. After searching the entire Benin city and PHC for ages in search of a good DVD, I finally swallowed my pride and downloaded the thing.
I watched it.Till the very end..
I hated it.Till the very end..
Maybe because of the hype and the fact I saw the movie seven months late, or perhaps because I knew every word, every move, every THING, before it even happened! That’s what you get when you have movie aficionados as friends. For Pete’s sake, even the “Puny god” thing didn’t thrill me..*sigh*..I watched The Avengers with as much interest as I would watch the FOOD channel on “How to boil an egg” day.
And I wouldn’t even watch the FOOD channel.
The “Billionaire, philanthropist..” Line was cool though.
But I was shocked though! After all said, I wasn’t told that my favourite Canadian was in this movie!
But this isn’t about The Avengers.
This is about me being grateful for 2012. The year started on a very exciting note, and all through the days and months the lines fell for me in pleasant places. I started this blog this year, and thanks to you guys, it’s been a blast!
I remember my first blog post.
It was on two pages of foolscap sheets and it was titled ‘Generosity’. My blog then was two walls on the SS3 block of the FGC Ijanikin, and the name of the blog was Bible Study Fellowship. I had a partner, his name was Elias, and we would scribble stories, in our best writings, with Christian undertones/messages and sneak out at night to paste them on walls. He was..is a weird chap but a good writer.
In those days I had good dreams (literally..) and there was fire in my bones and I was a good christian lad and all that. I don’t know what happened really..oh wait, I do! American Pie.
American Pie changed my life!
No, I have not been to America, not even out the country..except you count 20 yards beyond the Seme Border during an excursion trip in JS1.
Anyway, American Pie, the movie changed my life. My life prior to American Pie was like that Jason Briggs character (Jim Levenstein) minus the severe mastubatory urges and apple pie defilement. (Really if you haven’t, you should see the movies).
So, while on the topic (which?) I have decided I’m going into podcasts. Hehe..said that like it’s a business. Nna, I have decided to branch out into podcasts! The containers of podcast would be arrivingtomoro!( ‘-‘)
Ignore that last bit..
I have been told by quite a number of girlfriends and uhm..others, that my voice is le selling point of moi. So, like I said the other day, instead of writing/typing till my fingers hurt, why don’t I just switch on a microphone and just talk?
( ˘̶̀ ̯˘̶́)
And yes, while on that topic (the podcast topic of course), I have decided y’know, as the year draws to a close and everyone branches out into more fulfilling things, All in this Life’s journey (my blog), would also branch out. In plain terms, I need a co-writer. Interested parties, do apply to my email add: firstname.lastname@example.org with details and a sample of what you can do.
So back to my appreciations.
2012 was a wonderful year for me. So many accomplishments: Convocation, NYSC service, Teaching Biology, sleeping in jail, keeping an afro, opening a Twitter account etc.
There were ups and downs, with le breakups and losing Josephine, Adaora and Elizabeth!, but I discovered so much about my self, so many new abilities, so many new talents. I also made some money which I hid in my secret Ijebu bank account with codes unknown to even me.
Oh yes, about the jail experience. Life appears very simple to you the first day you sleep in a cell. (Tell me you saw what I did there..yes? No? C’mon! Cell, Life, Simple??)
I think I’ll call 2012 a wonderful year.
Met so many new friends who impacted me in so many ways (good and bad), and reformed stronger bonds with a couple of old ones.
The path wasn’t always rosy though, and there were occasions I had to sit with my head in my hands and really question my options, but in it all, GOD kept me. 2012 would rank as the year I worked least for GOD, with all my insecurities and Noetic beliefs, but I am appreciative still!
At the beginning of the year during the Subsidy crisis and the resultant protests, I remember criticising Bakare and his horde of protesters, including that media critic called Omojuwa, charging them to wait and see for themselves if Jonathan would not prove a messiah. I am slightly embarrassed now…
Why I did just include the above paragraph.
While in church today, I counted my blessings and well, literally wept, GOD was truly faithful to me this year. The protection, his Grace, the denial of my US visa by some angry white lady in Abuja, my excellent GRE result with scholarship potential, the promise of a new car which seems to be entering into next year and the wonderful new friends I’ve made in both PHC and Benin, both gay and straight.
I remember last 31st Dec, when I spent the last few hours driving up and down the streets in Benin city looking for a church to ‘Cross-over’ in. Finally ended up in a Bini Anglican church though, but okpe na-khin. I learnt a lot, lit some candles, added to my Bini vocabulary, and prayed that GOD bless my 2012. He did that, the World didn’t end, I’m grateful, I am blessed.
It’s the end of the year again, and from us here(myself and pending co-writer), Merry Christmas, and have a Wonderful new year!
*I still don’t know how to boil an egg.
*I have a lot more blessings which where not named in the above post. But I trust you understand.
*All typographical errors, grammatical errors, picture errors, all kinds of errors, are to be blamed on @Obee_007. Follow her on Twitter and complain on her head there..
*Josephine, Adaora and Elizabeth! were my phones..and I loved them all! Luscious silver curves, soft qwerty pads, and the most sensuous touchscreen action ever! And the OS..\\(˘⌣˘)//just heavenly.
Miss you guys!
Hello and Goodevening Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to another service with your host Pastor Jay. As usual, I would advise those of us watching at home, either through your TV or from your radio sets, to please put on your slippers wherever you are, for unlike me, you are probably standing on unholy ground.
Today, we’ll be looking at a very popular verse. You all know it, every little kid knows it. Children, read with me: Jack and Jill, went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his knee,
And Jill came tumbling after. Today, we are going to focus on three cardinal points in a topic I have titled; ‘Know your Purpose’. Repeat after me, ‘Know your Purpose’.
According to the dictionary in my i-Pad right now, Purpose means, “Reason for existence! Reason for which something is being done or the desires effect or intended outcome of something or a desire/resolve necessary to accomplish a goal.”
Now, in the passage we just read. The verse says something. Brother Sir Joe, read it again for us. Jack and Jill went up the hill… JACK AND JILL WENT UP THE HILL!!! Yes.. To fetch a pail of water… TO FETCH A PAIL OF WATER! Hold it there! Sit down brother.
You see, Jack and Jill did not sit down at home. They were not truants! They were not lazing about tweeting and chatting. They did not say, “I want water and it would come to me.” No! They WENT UP THE HILL!!
Turn to your neighbour and say, Neighbour! They went up the hill! Turn to your other side and say, Neighbour, they went! Good.
Jack and Jill, this passage does not make mention, but in the Amplified version, you will see that Jack and his sister Jill, both children of Janet and Johnson, climbed that hill together..
Jack could have decided to go alone, but did he? Children, did he?
He went with Jill. Put this down: “When climbing a hill, go with you Jill.” I’ll take that again, “When climbing a hill, go with your Jill.” There are many hills in Life. Hills of trouble, hills of house rent, hills of Twitter followers, hills of blogging, so many. But in this passage, the hill Jack and Jill climbed was a hill of water. Turn to your neighbour and say, a hill of water.
Water in the Italian translation stands for acqualina which is the water that satisfies hunger and thirst! Turn to your neighbour again. Neighbour, I will climb the hill to satisfy my thirst. Okay.
So, Jack and Jill, climbed that hill to fetch a pail of water.
There was purpose in what Jack and Jill did. Purpose. Jack could have decided that he only wanted a cup of water. Or a spoon. But he told himself, he purposed in his heart. The American version would say, he DECIDED. Jack decided that he wanted a pail!
A pail of water!
You have to know what it is you want. If you want a bucket, or a pail or a jerrycan, you must say it! What do you want?
Deaconess Chidinma, please finish the passage. Jack fell down and broke his knee.. Yes..go on.. And Jill came tumbling after… Everybody whaaaat? And Jill came tumbling after!
Now Jack was the first person to fall down, yes or no? But did Jill stand there? No! She tumbled after.
Everybody say: My Jill, repeat after me. MY JILL, WHEREVER YOU ARE, COME TUMBLING AFTER!
Now, there are two things noticeable about this passage:
1. Jack broke his knee.
Did the passage say he broke his ankle? No! He broke his knee. There is a purpose to everything! A purpose!
2. The pail of water was intact.
Jack fell, Jill tumbled, but did the passage say anything about the pail? No!
Turn to your Neighbour, Neighbour! No matter the Hill, no matter the falling, MY PAIL OF WATER will remain intact.
Children, know your purpose.
Let us rise..
If you would like to continue this sermon or you enjoy the teachings of Pastor Jay, you can follow the blog by clicking the button at the bottom of this page or you can follow Pastor Jay on twitter @janus_aneni
Go in Peace.
Till I reach you again, same time, same station.
* I do not mean any slander against any religious organization, televangelist and whatnot.
Follow the blog and do follow me on twitter @janus_aneni
PS: About Tangles! would come up tomorrow. Due to unforeseen difficulties we couldn’t have it tonight. Ok.
All blame is placed on the evil owners and operators of the Globacom Network. They of course, blame the network failure on technical issues. Apparently, two of their very, very important wires Tangled in the wrong place so uhm..it spoilt the uhm..network on both Blackberry, Android and modem.
Yes. It is sad.
Tangles! – a tale of twisted emotions.
Why do men do what they do? Why do they live the lives they live? Is it Fate that propels them, placing factors to determine their every step? Or do they simply play out a role afore written by the ghostly hand of a silent creator?
The hospital had never been his destination. Never. The words had been discrete, simple and yet obscure. Nevertheless their meaning had been clear.
“To create, you must destroy. To teach, you must scold. You strike while the iron is hot and the centre would not hold.”
The meaning was clear.
So what was he doing here? What was he doing with her?
He opened the satchel.
The last day of Camp was the worst. All it took was five seconds. Five seconds and the decorum and order the Camp had maintained for three weeks descended into a new brand of anarchy. At one moment, the parade had been grinding to a halt with the final remarks and vote of thanks being offered. In the next moment, the colours had marched off the field and disorder took precedence.
The Corpers scurried from one end of the compound to another. Clearance, letters, assignments, the world was in chaos. And in every corner, girls clung to each other and to anxious looking young men:
“I will miss you..”
“You will call right..?”
Tony was sitting in a cushioned chair hanging at 3,600ft above Lagos. He wasn’t missing anyone at the moment and he sure as hell could not call. He checked his phone again, the Glo network bar was still at SOS.
He would soon see her.
The plane continued to descend.
“Doctor, are they here yet?”
He had asked this question four times now. Dr. Akpan only smiled. He could understand. It was a common phenomenon with patients especially during convalescence. The fear that with recuperation, their loved ones who had showered them so much attention before, had gotten bored.
In truth, the patient was getting exasperated. His ribs were on the mend, and the torn muscles were beginning to respond again. He had started physiotherapy, with one hour of light cardio in the morning and though his body had lost upward of 15kg, he was doing good. Even the scars were beginning to look sexy. Already he had a good, dangerous sounding story for the girls, about the long curved scar under his armpit. All he needed was to get out of the hospital and back to the world.
Paul took stock of the hospital room that had become his home for some days now. He was sitting on the sheets, white nylon joggers covering the scars on his knees and thigh. On the TV, a bearded preacher was predicting Obama’s loss in the coming US polls. The room looked bare now, the EKG and the rest of the scary machines haven been removed a while ago.
Paul’s wounds had healed quickly, though his naked, massive chest remained partially wrapped in bandages and plaster to bind his splintered ribs.. Someone who knew the well built giant a few weeks ago would have been hardpressed to recognise the husk he had become. His body was still formidable but with his hollow eyes, his laboured breathing and the limp in his gait, it was obvious this was a man who had been through hell, recently. The massive forest of coarse black hair planted on his face and neck didn’t seem to help matter much. But as he was in a hospital, he might as well look the part; that was the reason he had given Shae for not shaving.
“Take a deep breath,” ordered Dr Akpan.
“Where does it hurt?” the doctor asked.
“Nowhere. I’m fine,” replied Paul hiding a wince.
The doctor nodded knowingly and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “Morphine” to the nurse.
Paul grinned and turned back to his i-Pad. The sins of working in a cut-throat bank, if you wanted them to cover the insurance on your crashed car, you had better be ready to resume work as soon as you could see out of both eyes.
“Doctor, I am working on a brief. I can’t be drugged.”
“Then you had better drop it. I don’t understand you bankers. Don’t they know you’re in the hospital?” asked Dr Akpan incredulously.
“My question exactly,” returned Paul, winking at the nurse.
Doctor Akpan grinned. The nurse smiled.
“I’m glad to see your ordeal hasn’t worsened your sense of humour,” joked Akpan.
Paul laughed, softly. He couldn’t laugh his usual booming laugh even if he wanted to, the effort would deliver him into a painful paroxysm of coughing. Last time, he had coughed so hard he literally heard his funny bone snap! He laughed gently now.
“Humour ke? Dat one no concern me. My own issue Doc, is if you’ll allow me drive out of here.”
“Drive? No way! I’ll let your girlfriend pick you though.”
As the doctor left, the nurse lingered for a brief second to drop a small note with what looked like a series of numbers. Paul grinned. She was the one who gave the nice massages right? He slipped the note into his pocket.
At that moment, his i-Pad went into Sleep mode and the screen dissolved into a picture of him and Becks at the Eko hotel. And Fate seemed to speak to him. His girlfriend eh?
There she is. She doesn’t look pregnant. Did she lie?
Those are the thoughts going through his mind now, guessed Rebecca. She was only half wrong.
It had been raining when they landed, so Tony had to half-sprint across the tarmac. His thoughts had been intent on getting a taxi to Ikeja, then calling her to find out where to meet. It was shocking to pass through the gate and find her standing there staring and waiting. His first thought had been; Oh shit! I’m wet! The second had been; She doesn’t look pregnant.
When Rebecca left the house that morning, her first stop had been at a supermarket to pick something up for Paul. She had run into an old friend there and spent quite a while chatting over meatpies. Then Tony’s text had come through. Apparently, he was headed to the airport to land in two hours or less, and he would want to see her.
Impulse is one of the most familiar traits of pregnant women, or so Rebecca told herself as she raced to the airport. She had not waited long before the arrival of the Azik Airline jet was announced. So here she was, wiping her hands nervously on the legs of her jeggins and staring at the man who first loved her.
They hugged stiffly. A stiff hug, but a lot was said in that brief press of bodies. Some was understood, but much was mistaken, as we would find out later.
“So…you don’t look pregnant..”
Rebecca burst out laughing. “I knew it! I could always read your mind!”
And as it is with old relationships, such statements evoke different sensations and a certain level of pain. They smiled.
“Let’s go Corper,” said Rebecca, recovering first. “Welcome back to Lagos.”
I shall continue this..One last time…
Disclaimer. *The typos are definitely intentional and act as a true test of the reader’s intellect!(˘̯˘ )
*I have no idea how pregnant women look. ( ._.)
*I actually do like the Globacom network. Which accounts for why I have a Glo phone and modem. Now that I think of it, not so much of a smart plan was it?
NOTE! The Next Episode would be the LAST episode of Tangles! So, the floor is open. Predict how Tangles! will end!!! There’ll probably be a prize for the best prediction..
And yes, the Interview of the Writer and the scoop, I guess, behind Tangles! would be up very soon. Saturday perhaps…or Friday.
I apologise for taking time with this particular episode of Tangles! You see, for the past two weeks, my life has been in a web of emotional tangles. Rather than leave me with additional inspiration or fodder for Tangles!, it instead left me a minor wreck and more than completely blocked. But repeat after me, “there is nothing..there is nothing that ogbolo soup cannot fix!” I am back now, and we’ll resume where we left off.
Uhm..yes, if today is your first time fellowshipping with us on a Monday like this, you would do well to indicate with a wave of hand or comment and someone would be with you shortly. Or just search the blog for ‘Tangles!: the Premiere’ so as to begin. Bless you.
First, a sort of Pro-view..
The car zoomed down the dusty street, going at top speed. Behind the wheel, the driver hunches over, his face in a deep frown as he reminisces over messages he just received. The tires squeal as they spin and grind the dust, and in the near distance less than a kilometre away, a pothole looms.
The shards of glass catch the light from the bedside lamp giving the girl the illusion of a bathroom floor made out of diamonds. She is too distraught to pay any attention. Her tears blind her eyes and she pricks a finger on a piece of glass as she struggles to pick them up. Her body heaves in retching spasms. Pregnancy lurks..
In the camp, he walks to the mammy market. His bag slung across his shoulder, every step deliberate and in tune with the vocals from Jace Everett – Bad things, which stream from his earphones. Sitting at his usual table is a pretty girl. He smiles.
She is in for another lazy day at home. Her fingers rest on the remote and she idly flicks through the channels. A scene from the movie ‘The Avengers’ flashes on screen and she smiles, her mind being transported to a certain day when she met a certain man. A man far away in camp.
“Hello, my name is *insert name* and I play the role of Tony in Janusaneni’s Tangles!. My character is a young Engineer, Youth Corper and supposedly the lead character in this story. Tony’s tangle is between his ex-girlfriend Rebecca who is now pregnant for someone else and his present girlfriend Sharon who it seems is now after that same someone else. There is also a hint of a budding romance between him and a certain pretty girl. Keep reading Tangles! and may you lovelives rem..*backstage voice* “CUT!!!”
Tangles! – a tale of twisted emotions
There is something about how Fate works. One moment, your thoughts are intent on a particular course of action, and in the next, due to a series of consequences, your entire outlook on life changes completely.
When Sharon left the house that morning, her thoughts were singularly on Paul. He would be allowed to have visitors that day. Soon he’ll be discharged too. So she was happy and in high spirits. But you see, as she stepped into the cab that morning, the Fates played their first note and the entire scenario for this story, evolved.
Camp Twa, Bonny.
It was the Closing ceremony parade for the inmates.
Usually, according to Camp traditions, on the day of passing out of the Camp, one is woken early in the morning, commanded to pack up and clean the hostels, then herded out to the field in full regalia for the parade. But Camp graduation days don’t always fall on Independence day. On this particular day, they had been herded out in the wee hours, while the wind still howled and bats began to yawn, to listen to a long lecture and admonishment by the Camp Commandant. Obey your country; love her; follow her; preserve unity; you’re tomorrow’s leaders etc all had been drummed in. Then, they were released, to pack up and to get out.
All these thoughts went through Tony’s mind as he stuffed his shoe into the duffel bag and zipped it shut.
Clamping his cap on his head, he strode out the hostel his jungle boots crunching up the gravel as he marched. In his ear, his earphone drummed out Green Day’s 21 Guns and his feet kept time.
“You don dey move already?” yelled Alaska, the querulous voice cutting through the pitched notes of Green Day’s lead vocalist. “Yes oh!” replied Tony. “You nko?”
“Abeg,” waved off the half naked man, still in his boxers. “Make dem go fuck!”
Tony grinned and kept walking. By this time tomorrow, he’ll be lying down in his bed in his uncle’s house in Ikeja. He had made up his mind yesterday and confirmed it later in the morning. He wasn’t going to the pretty girl’s house. There was no sense to it. But the reason went much deeper than that. He wanted to see Rebecca.
You see yourse’f! Rebecca cursed as she dropped her keys. The keys jangled down the stairs leading her on a half-bent over chase. Finally she caught up with the errant bunch on the landing. Shaking it in an unnecessary attempt to remove the dust, she looked up at an old poster on the wall. It advertised the Spirit of David concert. A wave of nostalgia suddenly tore through her. She had attended this particular concert, with Tony. They had had so much fun that day. Towards the end, Tony had run to the stage and grabbing a mic, ordered the DJ to play any tune, and before any bouncer could reach him, he had performed a couple of cartwheels and crazy air-flares then raced away. It was one of the few times Tony ever did something crazy, and he had done it to make her feel better. She had loved him so much that day.
She was going to see him today. Rebecca stared at a mirror at the ground floor of her hostel. She looked good. Her curves were filling out very nicely, and pregnancy or no, her boobs were bigger and her hips were very Kim K and that was cool! What it would be like if Tony was the father of her child.
Abdul flagged down the taxi. It was today. Nothing would stop it. The satchel he carried bumped against the side of the taxi as he entered and his heart jumped. But nothing untoward happened. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, the shirt was ironed and he looked quite neat asides the untidy full beard. A small prayer cap was perched on his head and Islamic prayer beads adorned his wrist. “Those who fight would die. Those who quarrel would be vanquished. What is right would be, what is wrong would be exposed.” The words he heard yesterday. Also: “Violence is not our way. It is a mode. It is a method to achieving a result. A blacksmith is not violent, but to create his works, he must hammer at the metal. A nurse helps to heal, but she must pierce the skin to achieve this. Life is brought to the world by violence. The cries of a mother as she births her babe, are not of pleasure but of pain, yet by that method is life and joy brought to the world.” These words repeated themselves in his head, going again and again. He needed them. Sweat broke against his brow and he wiped them with the back of his hand. At that moment the taxi stopped and a lady got in beside him.
Abdul’s heart stopped for an instant and the words of the Prophet and the Imam who spoke for him where forgotten. She was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen. His heart sank as he thought, he might never see her again. Then she said “Silver Cross Hospital..” and all his resolve shook.
“So, you really wouldn’t be coming with me?”
Tony couldn’t say a word. The pretty girl looked so much prettier today. A slight wind was blowing and it played with her hair tousling it teasingly across her face. If she had any idea what effect it had on him, she showed no sign; though she refused to tie the hair and her cap remained firmly in her hand. In the centre of the field, the Parade commander screamed”PLAaaaaaaaaATOOOON!” “I’m sorry,” he said finally.
She just stared at him. “She must be very lucky. Rebecca that is.” Tony started suddenly. “Wha..?” He started.
“Do not bother denying it. I can see it in your eyes. It’s really Rebecca, not Sharon. She is the one isn’t she?”
She kept staring at him. Her eyes brimmed over. Pretty girls are not used to rejection.
The muslim man kept glancing at her and muttering Arabic phrases under his breath. Crazy dude this one, she thought. “Oya, make una brin’ moni,” called the driver.
She paid him. Then the muslim man paid too.
“Where you dey go?” asked the driver as he stared at the muslim man’s money. “Silver Cross hospital,” came the reply in a surprisingly soft and clear voice. Sharon stared at him this time.
He wore normal clothes, but his beard and prayer cap gave him a slightly dangerous look. All these people sef! Then she saw his satchel. Oh Lord!
The writer sat crosslegged staring at the floor. Before him, some pebbles lay arranged in some form of pentagram. Laughing maniacally suddenly, he swept the stones away and picked up a pen.
To be continued quite soon..
Disclaimer *Like she would say, “All typos are definitely intentional..” and probably intended as an insult to the English Language.
*Do not forget the twist in the tales. This episode continues from Chapter 6 rather than 7. *Ogbolo soup didn’t really do the trick, but it worked just fine.
*Appreciations to @harkinfash and @mii2prwiti for certain insights and info and to a certain ibo girl for the pebbles.