A dream come true….

Maa chi/Maa ha/Maa jo,

Ye fro wo sen?

Remember I answered on question 25 of  The TMI Tag, that one of the places I will like t visit is Accra, Ghana………….people of the 365 blog, it finally happened. I, your girl, finally go to visit Accra. And the best part is the trip was sponsored by a reader of the 365 blog!…….*jokes*. But people, real talk…..would it be so bad gifted your girl an all expense paid holiday trip?……lol!

You know how sometimes, things coincidentally come together to work out as if it was planned to work out that way………yeah, you sister, I know you catch my drift. Anyway, that’s how my The TMI Tag post and going to Ghana worked out. I wrote the post on a Thursday, and by Monday, an opportunity to go to Ghana had presented itself, and by Friday of the same week I was touching down in Ghana by 7:20 am.

Did you know Nigeria is an hour away from Ghana? Anyway after the hassle of Nigerian airport procedures *eyes rolling*  and  35 minutes of a mouth-watering club sandwich at the Oasis Lounge in MMM 1, we boarded our Air peace flight, and arrived in Ghana at 7:20 amI only spent a day in Ghana. The actual program I went for was done by 10:00 am but my return ticket was not 6:00 pm Ghana time, so there was soooo much time to spare. I had not really planned any fun activities to do during the day because I expected the program to run much longer than it did.

After the program, we ordered an uber taxi that took us round town for about an hour, and I must say “Accra is clean and pretty”. After that, we headed to the famous Accra mall for lunch. I would have opted to have the famous Wache…..remember from Runtown’s Mad over you, “I know say she sabi cook wache”, but we were told the best place to find those are in mama put kind of places not fancy restaurants. Anyway, we settled for pizza at pizza hut and then went on to watch beauty and the beast in the cinema, to while away time. Desperation for free wi-fi led us to settle for at a coffee shop, in the mall, called Second Cup where I had an amazing drink called “a Berry Tea Chiller” and from there we went back to the airport. 

Berry Tea chiller
365 Blog – Second cup Berry Tea chiller

So, people……as expected, our flight got delayed. Must Nigerian Airlines always disappoint! can you believe that at 6pm, the plane that was supposed to take us back to lagos had not arrived in Ghana? I mean the one time I need you to be on time you are two hours late. And when the plane finally arrived, we were being passed from one gate to another like headless chickens, because the airport officials were also confused about where the gate was. The harrowing 3 hours spent waiting was not all bad……it came with the opportunity to have really amazing wheat croissants among other nice snacks at the Sanbra lounge……real talk guys, I really recommend this lounge for any persons who plans to visit Ghana, especially is you plan to go with a Nigerian airline, because they may just disappoint.

I have some random things I also want to tell you but I just can’t find an appropriate title for it….so, I will just list them below

  1. Nigeria, what the hell is wrong with us! Once I stepped into Ghana, I became embarrassed for Nigeria. How Ghana, which is not the so-called ‘Economic giant of Africa’ can have better airport than Nigeria still baffles me. Guys the whole airport was so organised…..and guess what they had more than one gate for departure! The whole process of departing the airport and arriving at the airport was hassle free…..I mean you did not have 50 million people checking your passport at every corner, so why Nigeria?
  2. Why is it that in Nigeria, at departures; there is one person to check your passport at the door, someone to write and check your details in front of the check in desk, another check at the check-in desk, another person to check when you about to get to the immigration queue, two people at the immigration queue, another immigration officer right after the immigration desk, another checker at the after the immigration, and another as you are about to board the plane……see I just don’t get it. Particularly with all the gbeborun immigration officers, who always want to associate your last name with a famous/wealthy Nigerian, and on occasions where they successfully make a link, intend to ask for ‘something for the weekend’…….*deep sigh* . I wonder, is it a lack of competence in one immigration officer that has caused the need for 4 different immigration officer to have to cross-check passports? and is the solution increasing the quantity or improving the quality.
  3. A guy at the mall was wearing a Zenith Bank printed fabric, a group of school kids wore uniform trad for school trip to the mall, and an airport official was wearing the national airport service fabric. From the airport till I arrived at the destination for my appointment, I kept seeing Ghanaians representing in their traditional attire. Thinking about it, Ghana is well-known for the high standards of its tailors. We were told that Fridays are an unofficial national traditional days, and that’s why people were dressed that way.


Mee da si for reading!

What do I do…..

I just cannot stop myself from staring at his face. He probably does not know it, but the mix of emotions I am currently under is like a spell that has left me partially deaf. Since he got on his knees, I have only been able to pick out 3 phrases; ‘most important’, ‘when I first’ and one other one that ended with ‘my mother’. This is one of those moments I wish I could remember every detail of for the rest of my life, I just cannot believe my brain has decided to fail me. I only hope that he wrote a speech, which he rehearsed for this proposal, at least that will leave me something to hold on to in memory of this moment.

Chuka and I’s families have been friends for three generations. His great grand father and mine had both grown up together in Imo state and although they were born to different families, they became more like brothers. The relationship between both families, although existent, would water down in the following generation and re-manifest in the relationship between our fathers.

Chuka and Akinlolu, my older brother attended the same secondary school, which made them very close friends. Chuka being an only child was always seeking Akin’s company and the fact that we lived in the same estate did not help because he was always over at our house. By the time I got into secondary school, the boys were already in their last year and after they graduated, he moved to England for his A-levels, then University degree and I don’t remember seeing him after that.

The next time I will see Chuka, I am in my second year in University and my brother is back in England for his graduate studies program. Tutu, my brothers girlfriend, had planned a surprise 26th birthday party him at a restaurant in Canary Wharf, London. I had missed my train to London, and had to take the another train an hour later. So I had to arrived at the restaurant still dressed in my home clothes and later on went to get changed in the bathroom. Being a successful party planner, Tutu had planned all the details down to the T and she did not fail to include sitting plans. I was to sit next to Chuka and upon arriving at my seat and exchanging greetings and we got talking. I enjoyed talking to him, and I think he felt the same because the only silent moments between us was when we were eating. He caught me up to speed, and that how I found out he lived and worked in the same county as my University and had been on the earlier train which I had missed. The coincidence got us laughing they kind of laughter that had tutu and some of her friend throwing glances at us, whilst birthday boy was completely oblivious.

The following day, we took the same train back home and our conversation had got even more interesting and that’s how it has been till date.  We exchanged contact but barely stayed in touch, because in between my crazy school schedule and his busy work schedule, there was not much time to spare……or at least that’s what I thought until last week when he told me I was totally wrong. Randomly out of the blue, he said to me “Do you know how much restraint it took me to stay away from you after Akin’s birthday?” that totally snatched my attention from the TV program I was watching. He continues saying “thinking back now, I think even then I wanted to marry you and I did not want to mess that up”. This was not the first time he would drop hints about marrying me, but I always ignored them, after all, guys say that all the time.

Chuka was one of the very intelligent ones. He had graduated with a first class degree in Economics from University College London, one of the top Universities in the United Kingdom. It was not unreasonable to expect that his master’s degree will happen at either Oxford or Cambridge University but to my utter shock, he joined me at Warwick University, the year after we met, for his Graduate degree program. I will soon find out that he had actually gotten an offer to go to University of California but had turned it down to come to Warwick…..I keep hoping one day he tell me the real reason why he declined the offer.

We started dating at end of my third year, not long after the night when he disguised our first date as a random cinema trip. I remember that night, mostly for the awkwardness of our first kiss and I smile. For about 5 months after we started dating, I lived in the fear of my brother finding out about us, but Chuka did not mind at all. In those months, I pleaded with him on several occasions not to tell Akin, although he soon found out. Chuka lived off Campus and sometimes when I wanted to get off the stress of studying medicine, I went to spend sometime at his apartment. I was having one of those days and I decided to go to his apartment, I call him but he does not pick up and so I just assume he is in class, and so I text him. For some reason, I find it easier to sleep in his apartment than I do in my school accommodation, and sleep is all I do. I wake up to my brothers face staring down at me, disapprovingly. Chuka starts to explain but instead Akin pushes him out of his way and storms out of the apartment. Akin returns not long after, calmer than he was when he left. We explained and although he was not very convinced, he learnt to accept us.

Three years later Akin is getting married to Motara and Chuka is proposing to me at their rehearsal dinner. Our mothers know Chuka and I are dating but I think the both fathers are still clueless. Once my mother said to me without mincing word that the only Ibo man she would permit me to marry was Chuka and I had laughed. Akin did not tell her, so the only way she must have found out was from her friend, Chuka’s mother.

On completion of his graduate studies, Chuka had returned home, whilst I completed my Undergrad studies. His father had insisted he come back home to run the family business. Once, Chuka had confided in me that he wanted to be an aeronautic engineer, but had to give up on his own dreams to protect his father’s legacy, and neither of his parents knew that. They had assumed that his flair had always been for economics.

I am pulled back to the present he is still on his knees, but now everyone is staring at me. Feeling the pressure of their stare, I close my eyes and I feel my hand stretching out to him and a couple of seconds later, I feel something foreign on my ring finger and loud cheers and claps. I finally open my eyes and he pulls me into his arms. I am speechless and continue to be until we all the cheering, hugs and congratulations stops.

I excuse myself to go the bathroom and for the first time I get a good look at the ring. it is a silver ring with perfectly arranged equidistant small-sized diamond stones covering its entire circumference, with a circular, medium-sized amethyst gem stone in the middle. Frankly, it’s the most beautiful ring, I have ever seen, not that I have seen many. I see a lot of thought has gone into it because it has got my birthstone, amethyst in the middle, there is only one which symbolises my birthday, 1st of February. I quickly count the number of small diamonds and I find there are 8 of them. I quickly check what month has diamonds as its birthstone, and I find its March.

I am still thinking what the 8th of March represents when I come face to face with Chuka as I swing the bathroom door open. He walks towards me forcing me to move back inside. He does not say anything, he just grabs my ring hand and I see he is relived when he finds my ring is right where he put it. He tells me he thought I had come to the bathroom to take it off and when I ask why he says “You just seemed so distant and hesitant out there. Initially I was scared you would say no and when you said yes and came to the bathroom, I thought you had said yes, not because you wanted to, but just so I was not embarrassed in front of our friends. I have died a thousand deaths out there not knowing what to think. Baby….please tell me we are on the same page”

“We are on the same page. I said yes, didn’t I?”

“So what’s wrong?”

I am a little hesitant to tell him why I had to go through our history but then I decide to tell him. So after a couple of minutes of silence I say “My father has another family” and I can see from the look on his face that he has some questions, so I proceed to answer them “Akin is completely clueless and you must not tell him. He tried to hide it but my mum knows, although she pretends they don’t exist”

We remain silent for a couple of minutes and then I go on to tell him my mind “I was distant because I had to run through our entire relationship to convince myself that entering a life-long commitment with you is the right thing. I don’t want to ever be in the position my mum is right now”

He is quiet for a while, we both are and suddenly he pulls me into a hug and after a while he says “I can’t promise to be the perfect husband, but I promise I will never put you through what your mother is going through. I will never cheat on you, the mere thought of it makes me cringe”

I start to think about the ring and I immediately the question that has been bothering me comes to mind and so I ask “why the 8th of march?”.

“Wow that was fast, I knew I married a smart woman, but I did not know you were that observant. Well….the 8th of March was the day I realised that I was in love with you and that I was going to marry you. I think it had something to do with that eye-opening kiss we shared at the cinema” He goes on to kiss me again, this time, it’s not awkward or eye-opening, instead its reassuring and deep.



Dear readers,

What will you do if your bf/gf proposes to you and you are not ready for marriage?

What do you reckon is the best way to deal with a partner who is not ready for commitment?

What will you do if you are her mother i.e. your husband has another family? Will you pretend they don’t exist too?

Let me know what your answer to these questions are, and your opinions in the comment section below. Please like comment and subscribe.

Thank you for reading.


365 Blog.

My first blogger recognition award


That is the only word that accurately sums up how I have felt since I read Ihuoma of OMA’S SERENDIPITY‘s blog post, where she nominated me for this very prestigious award. When I say nothing has been able to rid me of this feeling, I mean nothing! – not even the sleeping baby whose urine left a stain the size of  Africa on my ankara skirt.

As much as I will like to pour out my heart in an Oscar-worthy acceptance speech, this chain post award has some ground rules nominees have to follow. They are:


Fall Festival

So, first of all……

I will like to say a big thank you to someone who has made me dance shoki, galala, sekem, azonto, etigi, makossa, skelewu, shakiti bobo, yahooze,and alanta all at the same time in my head. This is no one other than the wonderful and creative Ihuoma of OMA’S SERENDIPITY who nominated me – y’all need to check out her blog.

2. I guess that refers to this post…..keep reading for more juice

3. How I started my blog:

I created my blog in October 2016, although I did not start posting until January 2017. I was going through a very rough period where everything just seemed to be going down south, and a good friend suggested that it might be a good time to start that blog I had always talked about. After a long conversation lamenting to my friend, I summoned courage to create the blog, but not the courage to write. I thought that I would suck at writing a blog because honestly essay writing was what I found most challenging about English Language at Secondary school. Also when I got to senior secondary school, I had to drop Lit-in-English course, because my teacher told my writing was as bad as that of primary school student……. LOL…. story story 

Fast forward to 2017, I promised myself the new year was going to bring about a new me. I was going to summon the courage to face some of my fears After 3 weeks, I finally decided on what to write in my first post – The six commandment of suit

So ……..here we are 3 months later, the 365 blog born out of deep sadness has become my refuge and a source of ecstasy.

4. Advice to new bloggers

As I write this, I hear a voice quietly whispering at the back of my mind “you just started blogging, what……3 months ago, do you think you are in the best position to give advice to new bloggers?”

Hmm….I will reply to this voice “experience is the best teacher, and although my experience is limited, it is still an experience and so I will share only what I have learnt”

So what have I learnt?

  • Don’t be forceful with your content: When I was doing my ground research for the blog before my first ever post, I read so many things about content planning and its importance, so I decided to give it a go……AND IT FAILED FOR ME. Trust me when I say that is probably what held back my first post. The title I had in mind for my first post was totally different from ended up as my first post. I spent a lot of time doing my content plan and I really wanted to make good use of it. But I found myself stuck……..a writers block before the real deal even begins, can you imagine? After so much time dragging it out, I finally finished writing the planned post and when I read it, it did not sound anything like I wanted it to. It did not flow well, it was what I’ll call……….forced. I guess what works for you works for you, a lot of people say planing content works for them, so it may work for you. But what I am trying to say is, if planning content does not work, don’t feel like you are doing something wrong just ‘let your inspiration drive you content’
  • When I first started, I was a bit lost…I thought I was doing something wrong because the number of views was not very impressive – another thing I learnt “let the numbers motivate you, not discourage you”. I contacted Berry Dakara of THE BERRY SWEET LIFESTYLE via email, and she told me something very important I will like to share with you. she said “At the same time, you might have a creative streak and think up 20 posts at the same time – in those times, pace yourself and schedule your posts in advance. There’s nothing like having already scheduled posts in the middle of writers block”.

I know you are confused…..isn’t that the same as content planning? Not really. This one involves writing as it comes to you and scheduling it for future posting, as opposed to the other which involves planning what you want to write before writing. The latter, for me, lets me write what inspires me when it does and gives me content for those times when I have a writer’s block.

  • one more thing…. I know it says 2, but I feel like I should add this one. I did not have any blogger around me  to put me through when I first started and so I contacted some established bloggers to help. As expected, most did not reply and finally Berry Dakara of THE BERRY SWEET LIFESTYLE responded. So in case you find yourself in a similar situation, try to contact other bloggers for help and don’t be discouraged from trying others if some don’t reply.

So the moral of the story is:

  • let inspiration drive your content
  • don’t be forceful with your content
  • when ideas come to mind, try to execute them as soon as possible. You don’t have to post them immediately, you can keep them for the time when you have a writer’s block
  • Let the numbers motivate you, not discourage you
  • Try to contact other bloggers, if you need someone to put you through. Feel free to contact me here. If it something I can give you advice on based on my limited experience, I will surely help.

5. Winners!!!!!!

I am glad I have the opportunity to pass this award on to other bloggers. And so….the 365 blog’s winners for the ‘Blogger recognition award’ are:

  1. Ngito Makenas of NGITOMAKENAS
  2. Kelly Sundberg of On Being Alive
  3. Oluchee of idle head
  4. missmondaymonday of This square peg
  6. When in the city
  7. Akintunde Aiki of Koroba
  8. Xceptional43 of 4unansweredprayers
  9. 21st century disciple 


Dehumanising rites

Adaeze, his sister, taps me on my shoulder to ask for his car keys again. Its the third time she has asked since Ken took his last breath an hour ago. I did not dignify her with a response the first two times and I am not going to this time, so I turn around and through my tears I stare at her for a few seconds and look away. I am now sure she has no emotional intelligence because she asked a fourth time as if she had been unaware of the hidden message in my stare, and so this time I tell her where it is and my tears amplify.

I was given very strict warning against this Yoruba – Ibo marriage by so many people but Ken promised me there is nothing to fear. He promised me that we had moved into the 21st century and those archaic traditions no longer applied. Whenever I reminded him about what I had seen in movies happening to widowed women, he got really upset with me and always asked “are you praying for me to die?” There he had me, I always pushed away those thoughts and found consolation in his promises.

Dear Ken Chimela Elechi

After 8 long days, it is the day we are finally laying your body to rest. I was informed that it is your family’s tradition for you to be buried in the village on the 8th day, but I suspect that is as much a lie or as archaic as some of the things I have heard in the past couple of days. All I feel is the heart break from your death and broken promises; and shame from all of the dehumanizing and ugly experiences I was put through. “Ken, I hope you’re seeing the results of making a promise you cannot keep”.

On getting home around 9pm on that day, I found all your sisters with your two of your uncles in the living room and now I knew where they went with your car after they suddenly disappeared from the hospital. Your office, my office and our bedroom was turned upside down and your sister Ginika started shouting “WHERE ARE THE DOCUMENTS TO OUR BROTHER’S HOUSES?” and that was how I found out what they were looking for and also that they had not found our secret safe. When I try to explain to them that I had no idea where they were, they start to make sentences that imply that I killed you. How could they even think that? I married you knowing you were a type 2 diabetic patient, and the doctors had just explained that you had a severe case of Myocardial infarction.”

After all the drama, I was informed that we had to leave for Owerri the following day to commence your funeral rites. The way they ganged up on me, I knew I could not object because the next thing they will resort to is to call me names in your language which I don’t understand or , the one that hurts the most, claim that I killed you. The following day, I was ready when they told me to be and the first thing they did when they saw me was to tell me I was in the wrong attire. Apparently, your sister had gone out of her way to sew me the only acceptable mourning uniform in your town, a black cotton wrapper and buba, and I was expected to be grateful for this. I watched as your sisters unpacked my suitcase removing all of my toiletries as they told me that I would not be bathing for the next 8 days while I morn you; and felt disgraced as they making snarky comments about some of my underwear. When they were done they told me that I had to remove my hair extensions, because I looked like a “prostitute” not a woman who had just lost her husband, but the interesting thing is your sister Ngozi had on hair extensions too. By the time they were done, I was a shadow of myself in an all black attire and that is the best I have looked in the past 8 days.

As soon as we got to Owerri, I was officially initiated into the Owerri widows club when they came to shave my hair. I had never cried as much and as hard as I did on this day, since the day you died, leaving me a widow; and when my mother died, leaving my sister and I, orphans. I did not cry for the loss of my hair but for the fact that I felt I had lost a connection to you. You described my hair, in its jet black richness, as a combination of gold and graphite, and you even hinted a couple of times, that this was what attracted you to me in the first place. I have not slept in 8 days, I have dozed off from the exhaustion I feel from crying all day and having to sit on my mourning throne – a very low stool, with no back support, all day. They believe that this is the only way your spirit will rest in peace and so I would not mind doing this and more, but for the three-month-old seeds, you sew, growing inside me.

After 7 years, we finally get what we have been searching for and you will be missing when they finally come. You did not tell your family because your sisters have not left out barren from the list of abuses rained on me daily, and I am glad you didn’t because they may have done something to hurt them . I have never been more determined to keep them alive, so determined that I ate whatever Dolapo, my sister, brought me in the toilet, when I took bathroom breaks from my mourning throne, during the 5 days hunger strike you family made compulsory for me.  I have come to know your family as united in wickedness, I am surprised you came out the gentle, loving man you were. Can you believe that your sisters have even allowed your Father’s cousin – Mama Nnena, who you hated so much and maltreated you to sleep in our master bedroom in the Owerri house?

Last night, I was finally allowed to step out of the Owerri house. I was given a towel and a bucket of water and under supervision by your sisters, I used the towel to wipe you clean, each time soaking and squeezing the towel in the bucket of water. As they watch, there is an argument going on in your language behind me, and I soon find out it is about whether I should be made to drink or bath with the water in the bucket. When I am done, they have reached a conclusion, and it is that I bath with it, after which I sit with your corpse until it is taken to the burial ground. I am reluctant initially, but then they tell me not do as they have said is to admit to killing you. 

Here I am Ken, I have been through hell and back for your soul and spirit to rest in peace. Now that we are finally going to bury you, the hell has to end as your body enters the ground. I have told Dolapo to pack my things, I leave this place today. Remember the promotion I was up for a couple of months ago that involved moving to South Africa, yes! that’s what’s next. But before I go back to work, I am moving to Lagos for the rest of my bereavement leave and I am going to be renting out our residence in Port Harcourt – before your family send me packing. As for the house in Owerri and in Abuja, they can have it. I have also decided to change my last name from Abolanle Elechi to Abolanle Ken-Elechi because I love you and I want my kids and I to continue to be associated with just you.

For the first time since you told me of the safe when we first go married, I looked inside it that day before we left for Owerri. I found the documents for all your properties and the agreement you made with your business partner, Chris, to transfer 30% of the company’s monthly profit to me, and in the event the company is sold, that I should be given 50% of the profit made from the sale. When I get to Port Harcourt to pack out of the house, I will post your sisters the documents for those two properties which I have given to them. I will also be instructing the bank to transfer all the money in your personal accounts to your sisters and uncles accounts, dividing it evenly while I keep what we have in your joint accounts. 

I love you and I will continue to love you. I don’t see how I will ever stop loving you having known you for 17 years and been in love with you for the last 12 years. Thank you for being patient loving and caring. Most of all, rest in peace but never leave my side.

Your Nkem.

I fold the letter neatly and put it in the inside pocket of the dark blue suit his sisters have insisted he wear. “Oya, its time to go to church” Sister Ngozi said as she adjusted the upper one of her two piece wrapper and a gold necklace, Ken bought for me sitting on her neck. ‘They told me I we were supposed to wear the black mourning outfit, but I guess that was meant for only me’ I think.


Do you think Abolanle could have made better decisions? let me know in the comment section below