JOY NGOFAA'S BLOG

I’m a mother. I’m a mother of two teenage adults, Jill and Jim. Jill is 19, while her brother, Jim is 18. By God, my children are no short of reckless. I wish I could say otherwise. But how does a sweet mother that tries to do everything for her children the right way end up having the opposite of what she has always wanted? Their father, my husband is sick with stroke and is in a nursing home. I go to see him every day. He’s been there for 5years. We used to be a sweet family, I think. I hope we still are. I should speak faith, but my faith is spent, you don’t know what I’ve been through. I have some to be grateful for, though, like my husband, he’s so very supportive even though he has been confined to just resting, as we choose to call it. When I go over to see him at the nursing home we pray together for our kids, thank God for his recovery and intercede for God’s children who might be caught up in the cares of life. It’s a relief to pray for other people, to take the a...

“A generation without a hero is like a starless night. A hero must be born” Kaani had said. Kaani is my late father. He died trying to save some people during a terrorist attack. The soldiers arrived too late. Kaani died a hero, to those women and children, two decades ago, when I was only seven. “A hero is born in adversity. Playing small doesn’t cut it. Kika Kaani, will you be a hero or will you quit?” Father would ask. No father, I won’t quit. I’ll fight. I’ll rise up to the challenge. I’ll rather die, but I won’t, than back down. I thrive I don’t survive. I’ll be a hero, maybe not to the world, but to my family, to my friends, to all who look up to me, though it be just one fellow. “Papa, you’re my hero” Joy leapt within me when Shasha said that to me. Shasha my daughter, she’s four, has her father’s courage and her mother’s ebony beauty and love heart. There’ll be more children, but now she’s here and I do all I can to make her proud of her Papa. Become the ...

Tribute from the children. The moment we received news of your death, our world caved in, the seams of our hearts came undone, we died within. Sleep eluded us, we laid awake all night. If we could write a story about you, dear mother it would be the greatest story ever told since the beginning of mankind. Words are not enough to tell how much you meant to us. Your image still fills our heads. I zoned out. I thought of my own mum back at home, would I say these things too when she dies? And my dad? And my brothers? My only sister? Another Story in the Diary Series; Miriam's Diary.  Click here to read . I needed to walk but I just sat there listening to the drowned out voices of my friends as they sang a song to their mother. I remember all the times they made jokes on her, or complained bitterly about how tiring she was. She was the last thing they needed in their life. But, here, now, it’s different. And they’re not faking it. They really do need her. They do. Peopl...

I love to dance, a lot. And it’s going to be lit tonight. There’s a all-night dance contest somewhere in G.R.A at 9pm. The ticket’s quite expensive for a dance contest. I’m not sure, this is my first. To watch, you get a ticket for two thousand naira, while if you’re contesting you’ll get one for five thousand naira. Something about it being a valentine special. I’m still debating if I’ll just watch or get in the action. You know, the strike has just been called off, I can spend some. I’m still full, cash wise. Boyfriend wise, I lost my boyfriend yesterday evening. Why do people do that? Break up with you just before the big day? Not like valentine’s much of a big day for me, that is, if it wasn’t also my birthday. So you see, this dance is my treat. Have you noticed I sound like a loner? I am. I’m friendly, but I don’t keep friends. I’m semi popular too. Loners are popular people somehow, I don’t know why. I made a dance video last night after Mike broke up with me. You’re not ...

Continued from  Part 3 You know what they say about how time flies. I’m 50. I’m sitting on the last row of this cottage church. It’s new in the area. It’s darkly lit, and it’s Christmas Eve, ironically I’m garbed in blacked: a big black coat over a black polo shirt with black pants and boots. It’s a readings and carols night. I’m pretty much happy this evening. Too happy, genuinely happy, even when we sing the strange carol song: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Have you heard it? It made me laugh. It’s a song you could rock to. Tomorrow is full. I’ll be hosting the 30th Christmas Teens’ Get-together, since Sarah started it. They’d be about 500 of them in attendance. These kids, you want to meet them. It’s usually so much fun. I’m trying not to think of the expenses. It’s in its millions. Shammah is helping with a part of it though. I don’t want to bother the others. Jireh is getting married, she told me. She’ll be coming for the Christmas celebration and Sarah’s remembrance...

It's August 15th I see a lady, she looks frail and sorrowful lying helplessly in a hospital bed. I could tell by her countenance that she is drenched in depression. I was prompted to go to her. I held her hand and said "Jesus loves you ma'am" she smiles at me; a warm and charming smile. I smile back. I give her a hug, then spend more time with her. We chat a little. I lead her to Christ and hand her a tract. She promises to read it. She has cancer on her left breast. She would recieve chemotherapy.  I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Miriam. I'm five. I'll be six 12 days from today. I have cancer too. My doctor says I have 8 days more to live. I pray I see my birthday. Peradventure I'll grow taller, or even bigger. They call me little Mira. I know I'm not just a little girl; I'm a big king right on the inside. I'm confined to the hospital bed. My pain has intensified. The wounds and sores have increased. Most times ...

Continued from  Part 1 Pretty much many times we don’t know what we’re looking for until we find it. I knew Sarah was her when I first met her. I can’t tell why, or how. The knowing was just there. “Welcome to church” And that was all. The magic happened. I saw the stars and all. It was my mum’s church. I had to attend since I came to visit her and it was Sunday, and mum won’t hear of it that you’d sit at home on a Sunday. We got married, Sarah and I. Six months in she got really sick. Cancer. She died a year later. That one year and six months of my life with Sarah, they were the best. O god! She was such a lively pack of dynamite. The pillow fights, the chase around the house. One day of positive thoughts can change your attitude towards life.  Worries about financial crisis and other situations become cliché. Night mares that seem to point to the future, but each time she tries to finish up, she gets caught up... "NEW THINGS" Click here to read She even ...

As a teen, 18 actually, that's pretty much still teenage, I used to think a lot about my to-be wife. I thought a lot about sex too, but, that's pretty much normal for a teenager. My to-be wife was an obsession. I'd imagine how we'd meet, where we'd meet, what she'd be like. My fantasies usually had her chocolate skinned, trim, pretty and smart. I hardly ever thought about us making love. Those fantasies were usually of other women, random women, most of them I already knew. This woman would be special. I am the last son in a family of seven sons raised by a woman. So maybe now you understand my obsession with the wife-thing. My mother, she's so special. Few mums like her have walked earth. Mum is a very pretty woman. Always has been. She had a busy life as a youth, trying to raise her siblings, two of them: Uncle Bayo and Aunty Teni. They lost both of their parents as kids, mum was 16 then. She would sell in the local market, buying on credit a...

I'm a Priest. I'm thirty. My name is Samuel. Priesthood has always held a special meaning for me. Everyday during mass, I'd fall in a trance, listening to our Parish Priest. I'd imagine I was the on the pulpit. My white sparkle like that of the angels without spot; with all glow. And as we sang "are you washed with the blood" during communion, I'd close my eyes, my hands pressed together as I took the communion. It always felt like heaven. I almost did see God smiling down at me, and almost did hear his voice booming through the speakers in our auditorium saying; "this is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased" I joined the seminary quite too early. I joined when I started hating the world and its ways, and that was really early. I got into the seminary first in my mind at six, although in reality I joined at twenty after my university education. I did a course in guidance and counseling. As you might have guessed, I didn't ev...

“I will be forced to kill you one day boy. Don’t push me” That’s Dad. He is scolding Kingsley. I hiss as I think of this dungeon of a home. “Useless boy” his voice echoes again from outside into the sitting room, where I’m cleaning the furniture. Then the beatings and the slaps and more talk. Kingsley doesn’t say anything. We never say anything when he hits us over flimsy excuses or call us stupid and useless and insensitive and threatens to kill us. Mama is not any different. She’d shout and make analogies over flimsy excuses. She’d call us selfish, claiming that she does what most mothers can’t do for their children and that she deprives herself of a lot of things to make us happy, but we never do anything for her. In one minute she’d say “Aren’t you old enough to make decisions?” The next minute you would hear her say “You don’t follow what I tell you to do. Don’t make me curse you, you’ll regret it if I do.” We, my brother and I, are torn between being independent of them a...

Continued from Part 1 If you haven't read part one,  Click here to read Jane was waiting around the corner. He had texted her that he was coming out, would she want to walk with him? Yes was the answer. She put her hand over his eyes, standing behind him immediately he crossed her path. “Jane” he said. She took her hands off, laughing excitedly like they hadn't already met at school earlier in the day. He turned around, holding her face in his hands. She stepped out of his hands giving him a disapproving glare. He grinned. “Teens shouldn't kiss like it's tea they must drink” he laughed.”Seriously, Sam. I think we should wait till we get married. “ His mouth hung open, the smile fading off his face. “Do you have a fever?” He asked her “No. Why?” “You sound strange. Did I offend you?” “No Sam,” Placing her hands on his shoulder. “Not you; the school’s evangelist” Sam arched his brow. “What about him? You're seeing him?” “No Sam.” Taking her han...

December, 2018 Nina reflects over her year. She’s determined to make a better next year. Are you? I know. I said the same thing last year. The goal, the end of year resolutions - and yes I said things would be different. And I had a lot of analogies to prove that this year would be the year. I know I flopped again. I was not going to get back with Ken. January first he was in my bed necking me. My bad, I forgot to change the locks. He has keys to my place. And boy I couldn't stop him, even as I was sprawled there under him, moaning, staring at my goals and resolutions pasted just opposite the bed. I didn't even stop him when he asked my consent. I was going to join a church. I don't know what happened. I just couldn't bring myself to risk appearing so religious. My friends. My Mum. Arrghh Start to volunteer at the teens’ facility next to my office. Boy, work was hectic. And Ken. He's always so demanding. And exhausting. And &You, a volunteer at a tee...

I'm 26. I can't tell you my name. I'm a stripper at the local club. I have three kids: Tessy, the oldest, 14; Kaycee, 12; and Lace, she's 10. I don't know why I'm doing this. Maybe it's because I'm tired of holding it all in; maybe it's because I've done all I know to. Maybe it's because I don't want the kids to turn out like me. I'm tired of hearing people say "You shouldn't be a mother; you don't deserve those kids" The kids attend at the local school and it kills me every time Lace runs back home to tell on her teacher. He'd grope her and say "the stripper's daughter. Can you dance like your mum?" And It astounds me every time Kaycee wears my make-up, wig and hills and he'd always wear his sister's clothes. Tessy, She's all so grown up already. I beat her again yesterday. I know she's doing our neighbour, but she won't admit. But isn't this all my fault? Maybe ...

I still remember it like yesterday. It had been the first of January, last year. Our Reverend had been making the declarations, then he said "Someone here would miss her period before this month runs out" As expected we 16 and 17 year olds were hiding smirks and giggling silently. "How can he even say that?" My bestie, Ajoke had whispered to me where we sat in the choir stand. It was two days later Uncle Tobi, mum's younger brother had come to see us for the new year. He was a sailor or something like that, something having to do with working on the sea and he had that cute manliness that exudes from sea people. He always wore his flip flops around the house, you could eat from off his body. He was that neat. I adore him. I still do. "Nne" He'd usually call me, "serve my food in the sitting room please, I need to watch the match between Real Madrid and Chelsea." Or whatever clubs were the case. Football was the only thing he watc...

When mama asked Sam to go to the store opposite their house to get her baking powder, neither her nor Sam knew their life was about to change. "I'm doing homework, mama” Sam had replied. “I'll cut your mouth if you say that to me again” Mama retorted. “Will you leave that seat now and go get me baking powder before I make you?” Mama said, her voice a whole notch higher. Grumbling, fifteen year old Sam closed his note to obey his Mama. He stretched and yawned as he stood. He had been sitting for an hour and some minutes. Sam was one of those teens that went to school because he had to. He didn't hate school, but he wouldn't say he love it either. In fact, he thought nothing of school. He just went because he had to. He had one year left before graduation, then he'll head for college. He looked at his wrist watch, the one his girlfriend, Jane had bought him when he turned fifteen. The time was 3:15pm. His girlfriend, Jane, for his birthday, had ...