Arguably the greatest gladiator match in biblical history; a one-on-one, no-holds barred brawl, winner takes it all. David and Goliath is one of the greatest ever documented fights. It was an unlikely matchup; a ruddy teenager versus a seasoned war veteran, an untested hand versus a tried champion, a boy versus a giant. It wasn’t even supposed to be a contest. Goliath, on paper, would probably have squished David the same way a sledgehammer would squish an ant. Goliath wasn’t your average fighter. According to the specs we were given, he was about 9 feet 9 inches, he was heavy and muscular, he was fully kitted down to his breeches; his body armor alone weighed about 58 kilos. He was deadly fighter, having been fighting from a young age. And he was a foul-mouthed trash talker, capable of instilling fear in the bravest of minds with his words. The Israelites cowered in fear in their camp. Dem no born any of them well no show face. Even Saul, their king and giant, no reach. So how did David, grossly under-kitted, untrained, go up against this giant and defeat him? And how does it relate to how we face our challenges today?

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journey walker


The Beginning

I probably should have written this sooner but I kept putting it off till I was in a mood to write something. The words were not coming though and it did not seem like I was not going to hit the mood anytime soon so I decided to just go ahead and play around with my pen and paper anyway. This title came to me while I was on my way to Lagos from Ondo state (I was just leaving Ondo by the time) at about 10pm. Why I was bound on this seemingly ill-fated journey is a tale of many stories, intertwined and twisted, dating back to early May this year. It is the history of my unexpected tour round the country. It is quite lengthy so I might have to break it up into a series of mini stories. It actually has not ended but I’m a bit more stable now and might now get to travel as much I used to. I would try to remember as much detail as I can so sit back and relax because it’s been a long, bumpy ride. Continue reading


His dark skin shone as he walked through the market place with his prize. People stared at him in awe. From afar though, as they were too frightened to come near him. Some said he was too fearless, the others said he had spent too much time away from people that it had driven him mad. His body was mauled in places. He had bruises and cuts all over his skin. There was a deep gash on his forehead. He was bleeding badly and yet, he was smiling insanely. On his shoulders was his prize; he had fought with his bare hands just for the thrill. A hunter who had discarded the need for weapons and chose to hunt with his bare hands. He was truly mad. He had just returned with his latest kill, a giant panther…

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The air was cool this evening after the rains which had fallen earlier in the day. All over the markets, stalls were lighting candles and oil lamps in preparation for the night market. This was the perfect condition for a night market. The rains had kept the villagers from coming out during the day and they would come out in swarms tonight to purchase our wares. I unlocked the door of my stall and promptly started my preparations for the night. The people would soon find their way to my stall and I wanted to be ready when they got here. I had just returned with my heavy bowl of ground bean paste. I hurriedly bring out my trusty old frying bowl, black with age. I had stored my firewood deep inside my stall to prevent the rains from reaching it. I bring out some and place on the fire place. I light a match and carefully toss it on the wood and watch it catch fire. Then, with my over-used raffia fan which is probably older than I am, I fanned the embers of the fire till they become a huge blaze. I place my frying bowl over the fire and pour out some groundnut oil from my battered oil can in to the bowl. With my oil heating up, I shift focus to my bean paste, stirring it continuously while adding salt and ground locust bean to the paste. I continue to stir until I notice my oil begin to smoke. I was ready to begin. This was my routine all night. I am the orphaned akara boy of Aro Village in Umuede land.

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Microphone stand and wooden stool under a spotlight on a stage



 *Wizkid’s Joy playing in the background*


In the early mid-nineties, that was the beginning.

Mama had me, she was definitely screaming.

I was her first child and cervix was expanding.

The strain on her hips caused blinding pain.

Doctor says, “One last push. I can see the head.”

She summoned courage, grits her teeth and winces

One last surge and my cries were heard.

“Congrats, it’s a boy” and hands me to her.

One look at my face brought tears to her eyes.

She smiles finally and I guess all she felt was:


Joy!!! Nothing but joy!!!

All that she felt was nothing but joy

I was going to be blessing.

A pilot or a lawyer or an engineer maybe.

Joy!!! Nothing but joy!!!

All that she felt was nothing but joy

I was the first grandson

The one with all the responsibilities

Soon I’ll be washing plates.

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I’ve been away for sometime, not for reasons of indolence (Though I suspect that would have played a part in some form of delay even if I was around all this while) but because I decided to serve my country in a place which was previously unexplored territory to me. It was a trip to the northern part of the country, to a place I had not heard of until recently, to a place I never dreamt of visiting, to a place that posed a huge threat to me. I was headed for Jigawa State.

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