THE PAIN OF A MAN: It Shouldn’t Happen To A Boy…

We all carry our wounds, our scars, I suppose. The important thing is not to let them keep us from finding the very best life possible. –Emmanuel Ajanah.

When a total stranger, at first meeting, sought to know our names, such do not get it most of the times. “Don’t talk to a stranger”, “Don’t answer just any personal question from a stranger”… We have taught our children even. But what are we securing? What’s in a name? A lot of us prefer nicknames; many others had nicknames given to them. I guess it carries more than we’ll ever have thought. A lot of experiences. It determines subsequent manner in the way we relate with people. But should this be? Unfortunately, yes.

I was resolute as a young person growing up then with all the frightening liberty to explore our great vastness and freedom called LIFE. I had restrictions. Rules. Chances to be a rebel. Chances to be the good boy. With time I became aware of my capabilities. Life was rich, and still is. But fear was also present. And one subject I must confess that did eventually top my areas of curiousity was sex. With cronies and lilies we did share our, (then), limited but strong perceptions of the matter. And the silences of the adult even accentuate our curiousity. All we know is the biblical injunctions: “Thou shalt not…” It was a hushed over topic. And we are the prey for it.

For reasons inexplicable to me even at that age I made up my mind that it would be a no-go area as far as I am concerned. A decision without adult’s influence, and certainly without their supervision. Too hypocritical, methinks then.

Christianity came to my abode about that time and I was a welcomed guest. And then the battle hit. “I’m chaste!” was my boast. “I’m a virgin!” was my pride. “The story of two clumsy starters at their beautiful wedding night…” was a story I wanted to tell the world. Nonetheless the peer pressure had it valves unleashed. But I was determined. So when friends congregate to tell stories of exploits I discovered I had none. But I was not disturbed. My imaginative and creative penchant came alive. I would concoct and narrate heart-rending stories. Sooner I became a consultant to the teeming ‘inexperienced’ and naïve youth coming to me for ‘tricks’ in the game called sex. I was a star. But within me is the settled knowledge of a spectator in a swimming pool who’d never swum and yet lectures its art to as many as possible. Living a lie, right? Thanks, but at least I had my physical purity intact. And that’s what I wanted. No peer pressure is going to add me to its statistics of sexually active youth. And it worked… for a while, though. The old, smart aleck suddenly got me by the balls and after a long protracted battle I caved in.

“So you think you’re a virgin, huh? You must be kidding, young man. Remember what happened when you were between five and six?” The thought was persistent. It was something that has never been in my thoughts until then. What happened at that time came pouring in droves into my young mind and were very overwhelming. I fought hard. So does it. I won’t give up the fight, but it won’t give in either. In retrospect I’d wished there was someone I’d talked to. But it was a hushed up thing and adults would rather scram you off the topic than listen and encourage your strength to hold on. It would have been easy if the memories flooding into me was simply my creation, but it wasn’t and I knew it…

Her name is Caroline. She was twenty-four then or thereabout… and a close friend of my eldest sister. Besides, we were all living in a big compound house. Only my sister had a room to herself. That afternoon she (Caroline) had called me out of play and sent me to buy some snacks and sweet things. These were later to be mine. Before I got back she was already prepared. Though I can’t remember if what she wore then was a wrapper or a skirt but it was lengthy apparel that covered her from waist down. The top was a white blouse. No button. No bra. In the course of what transpired between us that day I’d watched her slipped her brief out.

My sister had gone to work and would not be back till evening. Her room was made available to any close person to us, so it was not an issue if Caroline wanted the room. The moment I came in with the items she’d asked me to stay. Obediently I did. Initially, the door was left opened. Since the bed’s footing edge was near the door it was a matter of time before she quietly and gradually tipped the door closed. Twice two different persons, one of them my mother, had pushed the door open and peered in wondering who was inside. Initially she had me rest my head on her chest while she strokes my hair. I guess it was a warm-up style of a pedophile. By the time she instructed me to gently massage one of her breasts, which she’d brought out by raising her blouse and showing me exactly how to do so I was on my way to the experience called child abuse without knowing it. It was at this time the door was being opened by my mother, the second person to have popped in. Caroline was quick to draw her blouse down and had my head on her tummy with the quick whisper: “Sleep, sleep!” She pretended to be asleep herself and stretched presently as if disturbed by the seeming creaking door. Seeing me with Caroline together in a somewhat innocent position (with no disclosed part) couldn’t have raised any eyebrow. My mother simply greeted: “Oh, Caro, na you? You and this your pikin sef?” and she left. Almost everyone in the compound knows that Caroline did have a soft spot for me. If only they knew what that later translated to.

Ascertaining that all was quiet she then had me sucking her breast, and then quietly she nudged me down to her waistline, lifted up her dress, slightly shifted her pants (which she later removed totally), instructed me to use one of my fingers. I did not get it at first. She gently held my hand, singled out my licker and had me stroke where her she wanted. I started. I did. Exactly the way she showed me. Then I heard her utter some sounds. I’d stopped, thinking I’d hurt her. “NO, no, no, don’t stop, continue…” And I did. And she moaned more. Quietly. Next, she had me stripped off my only cloth; a pant and started fondling what seem the size of my licker, the way children fondle themselves especially when taking their bath, or when being bathed by an adult. But the day’s activity was rounded up with me ‘pricking’ into her. That was not for long as she had me back on the fingering thing. How she twirls and wriggles with pleasure. After a while, she…

This, I’ll tell you next uploading. Visit soon. For now, remember to post your comments. I want to know what you think.

Catch ya next uploading.

LESSONS FROM THE GEESE

Hi, A while now a lot of us were lost in the euphoria of Obama’s victory. Suffice it to say that achieving success is one thing. This is hoping that we will all be there for him through thick and thin. It’s not now he’ll need us, it’s when the brunt of his office presses on him, which is why I believe that we need to learn some things from the geese about team work. Have a good reading.

LESSONS FROM THE GEESE

Fact 1: As each goose flaps its wings it creates an “uplift” for the birds that follow. By flying in a “V” formation, the whole flock adds 71% greater flying range than if each bird flew alone.

Lesson: People who share a common direction and sense of community can get where they are going quicker and easier because they are traveling on the thrust of one another

Fact 2: When a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of flying alone. It quickly moves back into formation to take advantage of the lifting power of the bird immediately in front of it.

Lesson: If we have as much sense as a goose we stay in formation with those headed where we want to go. We are willing to accept their help and give our help to others.

Fact 3: When the lead goose tires, it rotates back into the formation and another goose files to the point position.

Lesson: It pays to take turns doing the hard tasks and sharing leadership. As with geese, people are interdependent on each other’s skills, capabilities and unique arrangements of gifts, talents or resources.

Fact 4: The geese flying in formation honk to encourage those up front to keep up their speed.

Lesson: We need to make sure honking is encouraging. In groups where there is encouragement the production is much greater. The power of encouragement (to stand by one’s heart or core values and encourage the heart and core of others) is the quality of honking we seek.

Fact 5: When a goose gets sick, wounded, or shot down, two geese drop out of formation and follow it down to help and protect it. They stay with it until it dies or is able to fly again. Then, they launch out with another formation or catch up with the flock.

Lesson: If we have as much sense as geese, we will stand by each other in difficult times as well as when we are strong.

Here you are. I hope we learn to acquire what constitutes ‘The Team Spirit’. Have a nice day and remain strong.

Hello readers and visitors,

Once more you’re welcome to another write-up that I believe will be useful to us all. Life is beautiful; our greed sometimes causes us unnecessary anguish. I hope the vital lessons could be garnered in these write-ups so that we can have the best life possible. So, cheers and have a good reading.

KING RAT

James 5:1-6 (NIV). Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the mystery that is coming upon you. Your wealth has rutted…. Your gold and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have hoarded wealth in the last days. Look! The wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your field and cried out against you…. You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered innocent men, who were not opposing you.

Have you ever the film King Rat, in which the main character, a Second World War American soldier, is brilliantly played by George Segal? Segal’s anti-hero, a resourceful but amoral wheeler and dealer, finds himself incarcerated in a Japanese prison camp, and becomes the wealthiest man in the camp through buying and selling and scrounging and stealing. Unburdened by scruples (British officers buy rat meat from him, and cheerfully eat it believing it to be squirrel), he rapidly achieved a position of dominance living in comparative luxury, dispensing or withholding favours according to the profit involved.

Particularly memorable is the scene where Segal fries eggs before someone who has something he wants. The staring, lip-licking agony of this man who hasn’t seen an egg for two years is painful to behold.

There is no doubt that, as far as the small world of that camp is concerned, and the small group of henchmen who defend and assist him in exchange for whatever scraps he throws at them, he is King Rat, the richest, most powerful man in the community.

The eventual liberation of the camp by allied troops corresponds to the picture drawn by James in this passage. Suddenly, the carefully hoarded supplies of food and bargaining items are worthless. Those who followed the ‘King’ in return for crusts are anxious not to be associated with him, especially as there is a strong indication that Segal’s uniquely well-fed, healthy physical condition will result in investigation and punishment. The film ends with ‘King Rat’ isolated at the centre of the compound that, only yesterday, he ruled. If he had helped others in that little world he might have been a hero in the next. Instead, he is an outcast.

-Adrian Plass, When You Walk


THE HUSBAND STORE

A store that sells husbands has just opened in NewYork City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates. You may visit the store ONLY ONCE!

There are six floors and the attributes of the men increase as the shopper ascends the flight. There is, however, a catch… You may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.

On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 – These men have jobs and love the Lord.

The second floor sign reads:
Floor 2 – These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids.

The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 – These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, and are extremely good looking.

“Wow”, she thinks, but FEELS COMPELLED to keep going.
She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads:

Floor 4 – These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, and drop-dead good looking and help with the house work.

“Oh mercy me!” she exclaims, “I can hardly stand it!” Still she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads:
Floor 5 – These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop-dead gorgeous, help with the house work, and have a strong romantic streak.

She is so TEMPTED to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 – You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are IMPOSSIBLE to please.

Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store. Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!

Now, now, now...it is obvious that "Houston, we have a problem" can be heared loud and clear. I'm not a Mr. Moralist but i believe over 90% of our challenges and conflict stem in from Mr. SELF" wouldn't you agree? Drop me a note and let me know what you think. Cioa.

Hi fellas,

It’s been long and I must apologize that I’ve been indispensable and could not make further postings. I want to thank those who’d visited my blogspot. It’s worthwhile and encouraging to know that a lot of you care so much.

As usual, let me state that life is only worthwhile only when we support one another. The story you are about to read is one of the reminders of this fact. A lot of us attribute where we are now to the support we received from many as travel this hard road to true living. We all NEED each other. As we receive help let us also make ourselves helpful to others. I believe life is made richer when we do.

THE RACE

Some times ago, at the Seattle Olympics, nine athletes, all mentally or physically challenged, were standing on the start line for the 100m race. The gun fired and the race began. Not everyone was running, but everyone wanted to participate and win.

They ran in threes, a boy tripped and fell, did a few somersaults and started crying.

The other eight heard him crying.

They slowed down and looked behind them.

They stopped and came back… all of them…

A girl with Down Syndrome sat down next to him, hugged him and asked, “Feeling better now?”

Then, all nine walked shoulder to shoulder to the finish line.

The whole crowd stood up and applauded. And the applause lasted a very long time…

People who witnessed this still talk about it.

Why?

Because deep down inside us, we all know that the most important thing in life is much more than winning for ourselves.

The most important in this life is to help others to win, even if that means slowing down and changing our own race.

If you send this message around, perhaps we will succeed in changing our heart, perhaps someone else’s heart, as well…

Remember, a candle loses nothing if it is used to light another one.”

LET'S CRACK YOUR RIBS

By the way, a little jab to crack on y’all! When I first came across this I was really amused. I do not want to remove the flavour in this joke but let me say that to live a lie is the most dangerous thing. A lot of havoc has been caused by sudden discoveries of well-hidden lies. Sometimes our health is challenged by hidden guilt. Maybe we all need a lie-detector robot, but do we, really?

TELL A LIE!

One day Kyle’s dad brought home a robot.

The robot was special in that it could detect a lie and would slap the person who lied on the face.

Kyle returned late from school that day and his dad asked him, “Son why are you late from school?” Kyle answered, “Dad, we had extra classes today”. Much to his astonishment the robot jumped up and slapped Kyle on his face.

His dad told him, “Son this robot is special in that it can detect a lie and will then slap the person who lied. Now come on tell me the truth. Why are you late?” “Dad, I went to a movie” “Which movie?” “The ten Commandments” Immediately, Kyle got a slap on the face from the robot. “Sorry Dad, I went to see the movie Sex Queen”.

“Shame on you son, when I was your age I never watched obscene movies or misbehaved” Immediately, the dad gets a tight slap on the face from the robot.

Hearing the last sentence, Kyle’s mother comes walking out of the kitchen and sarcastically says to her husband, “After all he is YOUR son!!!” To which the robot steps up and gives Kyle’s mother a resounding slap on her face!

How nice.

Or is it really nice?

Don’t forget to post a comment. I look forward to reading from you.

WAR BETWEEN MEN & WOMEN!

Hi,

The excitement of blogging for me has been two much. In spite of my busy schedules I could still steal time to drop in a note or two. I’m grateful to those who had called in to say how much they’re impressed, but may I task you to do more …on line. I’ve to be on the road again tomorrow so let me say, have fun browsing thru this: the war between the sexes. And by the way, let me know what you think of it; drop me a line, huh?!

One major thought, though. I mean life is more meaningful when we can appreciate our complementary roles as opposite sexes than when we see it as confrontational weaponry. Still…

Let me know what u feel about this........

If you put a woman on a pedestal and try to protect
her from the rat race, you're a male chauvinist.
If you stay home and do the housework, you're a pansy.


If you work too hard, there is never any time for
her.
If you don't work enough, you're a good-for-nothing
bum.


If she has a boring repetitive job with low pay,
this is exploitation.
If you have a boring repetitive job with low pay, you
should get off your ass and find something better.


If you get a promotion ahead of her, that is
favouritism. If she gets a job ahead of you, it's
equal opportunity


If you mention how nice she looks, it's sexual
harassment.
If you keep quiet, it's male indifference.


If you cry, you're a wimp.
If you don't, you're an insensitive bastard.


If you thump her, it's wife bashing.
If she thumps you, it's self-defence.


If you make a decision without consulting her,
you're a chauvinist.
If she makes a decision without consulting you, she's
a liberated woman.


If you ask her to do something she doesn't enjoy,
that's domination.
If she asks you, it's a favour.


If you appreciate the female form and frilly
underwear, you're a pervert.
If you don't, you're gay.


If you like a woman to shave her legs and keep in
shape, you're sexist.
If you don't, you're unromantic.


If you try to keep yourself in shape, you're vain.
If you don't, you're a slob.


If you buy her flowers, you're after something.
If you don't, you're not thoughtful.


If you're proud of your achievements, you're full of
yourself.
If you don't, you're not ambitious.


If she has a headache, she's tired.
If you have a headache, you don't love her anymore.


If you want it too often, you're oversexed.
If you don't, there must be someone else.


NO WONDER MEN DIE BEFORE WOMEN!!!

Give This A Thot:

It is easier to tread on a snake than a snake-like object.

Thank you & Have a nice day.

THE COUCH IN THE COTTAGE

Hi there,

I’ve been looking forward to this day and I’m sure glad to have an opportunity to share all I can with as many as possible through this media. It is not a coincidence that I’m using today, which meant something special to me, to launch out into the bloggers’ world. I’m not here to impress anyone but I come from a star-studded country and, as a first time blogger I’ll be willing to learn from those who have been on the scene for a while now.

One thing I’m definitely passionate about is my relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Can’t miss that out in my writings, but you’ll definitely not be bored. Promise!

Respect to bloggers like Linda Ikeji. We spoke once on the phone; cute voice, if you ask me. NaijaGal, hope we get to know each other soon, and many more. Catch y’all as the days go by.

Why would I want to blog? Got a lot to share cos I have a passion to share helpful content via my thoughts, experiences, observations, and perspectives to issues as they affect man in this entity called planet earth. Hopefully, looking forward to creating fora where minds will breathe life into things.

Enough said. How about some stuff for a start. Just remember to drop a line to let me know what you think.

ICE BREAKER
Success is started by the battery of desire, powered by the fuel of preparation, lubricated by the elbow grease of persistence, guided by the radar of God and smoothed by the shock absorbers of faith and prayer.

- Anthony Judkins, Charlottesville, VA.

SHARE, AND SHARE ALIKE

An old story from India tells of four foolish beggars, clothed in rags, who by chance met in a beggars’ hut near a small village. They had been begging all day in the market-place and, as the sun set, each made his way, carrying his begging bowl, to the little hut. There they sat around a small fire, discontented and disgruntled with life.

It transpired that the first beggar had nothing in his bowl but a little piece of meat. The second had his bowl half filled with vegetables. A few spices lay at the bottom of the bowl of the third beggar, while the fourth one had been given four or five handfuls of rice.

As they sat around the fire complaining, one of them had the idea that, if they pooled their resources and put all the food they had received into the cooking pot, then at least, they would have some broth to share.

This was accepted as a good idea, and the pot was duly filled. The four sat around eagerly.

However, the first beggar, who thought that he was a cunning little man, realized that if the other three dropped in the pot what they had, then he would not need to put in his meat. So, he only pretended to put it in. As it happened, the second, third and fourth beggars all thought along the same lines, each pretending to throw in what he had, but in practice concealing it beneath his rags.

It is said that there was no end of quarrelling in the hut that night when the pot was lifted from the fire, and nothing found in it except hot water.

What do you think? Let me know, huh?

Love Poetry? Share A Simple One With Me!

NEVER ALONE

I, came from a we

And lives;

And goes on to a we:

Once more,

On transition.

Let me provoke your thoughts a bit:

Been wondering, WHAT WILL LOVE DO IF GOD HATES YOU? Hit me with what you think fellas?

Hey! For a start I hope this would be seen in its infancy. I got to go. Would write some more soon. Catch y’all!