Purifying the heart

We have so much dealt on heart pollutants and we are all well aware that there are things that pollute our hearts and keep us far from God. We have said what you hear what you see, what you touch and your feelings are the things that will pollute your hearts. I am sure we also discussed the manner and ways by which such things crisps into our spirits/hearts and bedeviled our healthy imagination; there is no doubt that we are wisely aware that the judgment of God transcends the thoughts quoting. These scriptures “and thou, Solomon my son know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart (Not imperfect heart) and with a willing mind (Not unwilling mind): for the lord searcheth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him he will be found of thee, but if thou forsake him, will cast thee off forever 1 chronicles 28:9
In addition, we said each pollutant seeks to destroy our heart so that we swell up with vain imagination. If not check we remain in church yet serve and worship the devil. Our discussion opines that the devil uses tricks. It is a subtler being, full of deceit. So he pollutes hearts even of pastor that are careless, church, even members and elders. The bible says he (Devil) works in people Ephesians 2. And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins: where in time past ye walked according to the cause of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worked in the children of disobedience”, those whom in the time past we also had conversation in the lust of flesh fulfilling lust of flesh and mind Ephesians 2:1-4
Similarly Paul said thus in Ephesians 4: this I say therefore and testify in the lord that ye henceforth walk not as other gentiles walk in the vanity of their mind, having the understanding darkened being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them because of blindness of their heart. Who being past feeling have given themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness? He comments that Christ did not teach us thus, therefore if, we have been taught by him as truth is in him (Jesus), we should put off lying, anger theft and all former conversation, only to put on anew man, which is evidenced through righteousness and true holiness. Not false holiness but, true one. If this new man is found in us the scripture says Colossians 3, we shall be seekers of things that are above where Christ setteth. Mind you, Satan owns things in the world because he sitteth for ruler ship here. Paul advised that, we should set our affection on things above, not on things on the earth. This will be achieving if we mortify our bodies Colossian 3:1-12.
As we have been able to discover heart pollutants, we shall look at things that can also purify the heart of a man. David said purge me with hyssop and create a new spirit within me.

Be creative

The effort for becoming a success is like that for climbing an infinitely tall mount, if there is any such mountain. And getting-things down with a sense of effectism is like empting a river with a cup. Success and effectiveness are no little desire of individuals, however. In school, every student on entering in school has a desire to perform successfully, and may be, leave an effect behind when they are graduated. But most times, in the growth of their commitment, they would begin to realism that getting-things down with a predictive sense is in the real sense a mirage. To such persons, yesterday is history and tomorrow, a mystery. They would wonder on their failures of the past as much as the uncertainly future.
But there is a way to go ahead: It’s by doing something, anyway. For one to achieve something, one has to start something. For one to succeed, one has to start something.
Finally, two days ago, on the 21st of October, ASUU and FG signed negotiation agreements to the effect that ASUU would call up its strike or suspend it indefinitely. Which ever it will be, public and state University all over the country will be on board. Students will pour back into their classes and continue with schooling. It is not enough to emphasize how committed students should be. In the Federal University of Agriculture Makurdi, those guys would book their books like book warms!
Kater Hule of the department of Agricultural and Environment Engineering of the University was talking with his classmate Dooyum Hanior, yesterday suggesting how much commitment would be demanded in school for the semester. Dooyum saw things differently. ‘A circle has 360 degrees, yet, its amount to nothing. I can’t kill myself for just a degree!’ Dooyum is a guy with a hot head for making money, no less.
Happily many student’s like Dooyum would have the drive to make money while in school. It’s alright, guys you can do anything, any way. But at least, be focused; so that your yesterday would not be a history of failures and your tomorrow a mystery, really unknown.

here is a free book to read!

CHAPTER ONE

Benedicta, a half sister of mine, called me on phone. Benny informed me that Aker was dead. My nerves shrank at the news. I had not received such a terribly shocking news all my life. And, it also threw me off my thoughts. Guilt quickened in my mind immediately because I felt that I had a hand in the boy’s death. And in fact, I did.

Of all my father’s children, I can say I like Benny very much because she has a kind spirit. No less, we attended the same primary school at Saint Augustine in Minlan – Akan, the closeness in our childhood has fostered our friendship. I have grown to admire this friendship that exists between my half sister and I. apart from my mother, Benny reminds me that I have a family, after all. And because she has been so close, a few worried mind have been worried. I wonder why they should. I mean, it’s funny.

Benny told me one day, with tears in her eyes that a step mother of ours; my father’s sixth wife – Kwaghgandekpan – had accused her and myself of having a romantic affair. I never stopped laughing – how people can have very dirty thoughts.

It was an afternoon, after I had a second-year philosophy lecture, when my phone was ringing. I picked the ringing phone and answered very excitedly seeing that it was Benny who was calling. The last time Benny had called before she was calling this time was about three months ago, and I was missing her already. So the call really excited me. “H-e-l-l-o-o-o!”, I answered the phone artfully with a deep but clear and styling accent. And I gave a cheap smile into the air. The line was quiet with a fizzling sound of air for a while. Her voice didn’t come through.

“Hello, Benny, are you there?” And then came her cold voice, “Aker is Dead…”. She tried to speak further, but she could not. even the much she said, she had spoken so coldly I could mistake her voice. I could hear her sniffing her nose and sobbing into the phone like a child. And, she must have cried a lot before she called me.

The phone line went dead I tilted my head and trained my ear on the phone “Hello! Hello!! Hello!!! Benny!!!!” The mobile line was dead. No response.

“Damn!” I said hushly. And then, without the slightest consciousness, I flung the phone into the open air, madly. The flung phone cut across the thin hot room afternoon air smoothly, made a reasonable noise as it hit the chalkboard on the wall, and then, the phone sprang to its pieces on the floor. The battery of the phone was at some place, the cover at another.

The heat that came with the afternoon air made the classroom even more unpleasant at the instance. The room wasn’t big enough for good ventilation, even thought it was tall. There was a wooden blackboard on the wall between the front corners of the room. Two slid windows stood between two reasonably sizable glass doors – that were rarely wide opened. One of the doors was towards the front of the room, the other was just close to the rear wall. Three lifeless ceiling fans hung overhead. When a lucky day brought its fortune, the school power unit would release a tiny electric current into the fans. Then would they labour as sluggishly as possibly, making some irritating twink-twink-twink noise. Fifty iron-made chair were lined in equal spaced rows between the walls.

Most students had left the class by the time Benny called. So most seats were empty. I myself was just sitting there and going through the notes of the lecture we just received. If I would go to the hostel and hoped to revise the lecture, the room would be too noisy, so I sat in class. Apart from me in the class were Edo and Sala talking together in low tunes near the front window. The girls were so found of spending time together after classes, jesting. Jagara was on top of his voice at the back of the class where he, Fazi and Jamuta sat. Ojama Obie and Reuben Ibwan sat beside me. The boys were consumed in an argument concerning European football.

The noise my flung mobile phone made on the chalkboard, obviously, attracted attention.

My head began to ring inside, inside instantly. It was as it, some crazy man was beating two gongs in my head simultaneously. And then, my lips fall open like weak petals of okra hibiscus during a cruelly a hot noon. I stared at the chalkboard blindly, blinklessly. Suddenly, I was feeling like vomiting!

“Aker is dead”, Benny’s cold voice beat in my mind with a talking drum. And then my eyes shut with an inner pain at once – or, I shut them. My late friend’s face appeared in the eyes-of-my-mind. His face was gracefully carved in my mind. Dark thick eyebrows. A fairly pointed and slim nose. His shying woman-like smiles that had always pushed his thick lips wide. Beyond these, the eyes-of-my-mind caught a clear picture of a great-young-man who was growing rapidly, in wisdom and intelligence, like a yam tendril in the rainy season – suddenly, it dried up and dead!

Aker’s death caused great pain in my heart. This was not because the boy died – or, rather was killed – when he was a third year university student, his death touched me by the circumstance of its shame. Campus cultism. And, very embarrassingly, my hand caused it.

Years ago when I was a little boy, my mother told me a funny story to guide my spirit. She said a man had a wife, many daughters but no son. The man would lie on his Agambe bed throughout the night sleepily. He was worried that when he finally would join his ancestors without a son to inherit his worth, his effort would perish. But his wife kept pouring out all the daughters from her womb. One day, she had a boy for him. The man was so full of joy that he ran to a shrine and fetched a very famous medicine-man. The medicine man was believed to be the most powerful in all the world. without delay, the medicine man came and drove away all evil spirits that would inhibit the child’s destiny.

The child was fortified and wished longevity. Afterwards, the man had a big feast for his son. Merry was made and the child was given a name. The child was still wished life and prosperity by all who came for the feast. The feast was over, people went home with glad minds. The same evening, the boy-child died. When my mother told the story, it amused my young mind then. How could a story of grief have amused me? I feel bitter and pity, Aker was a friend, and more than a brother.

When I finally opened my eyes, tears were bleeding vastly in the left. I smiled foolishly, and then threw my head backwards to the head of the iron chair and stared at the ceilings.

Ojama, who had sat with Reuben arguing something of football, walked to me and patted my left shoulder. I turned and looked at him, and then I smiled. I didn’t want to give him an impression that I was looking like a snake-chased mouse, for its eyes will almost come out of his skull! Ojama threw a feigning smile at me and patted my shoulder again.

“Be strong, man!” He said and walked to the front of the class where my phone was in pieces on the floor. I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. He fit the pieces of the phone together and blew on it – the phone must have caught dust. My eyes met with Reuben’s and he spoke in his throat, ‘Sorry-o”, maybe. I smiled at him briefly.

Ojama returned to me and handed me the phone. I managed to thank him. my left eye kept bleeding tears. I held the ear of my shirt and dried the tears. And then I picked my two note books. I walked away towards the front door of the classroom. It was when I was at the door that I cleared my throat.

Edo and Sala were staring at me with eyes full of sympathy. Sala tried to wave, my depressive look scared – I am sure. I walked out looking as horrible as an evil spirit thumping in the forest in the dead of the night. Sala could just stare.

Rueful piece of memory. My head is full of pictures. Ugly pictures are blinking excitedly in my head as I see Amake when I have attended my convocation ceremony, the sixteenth and seventeenth convocation ceremony of my Alma-mata – University of IBRU. Amaka brings back to my mind an active smell of bloodshed. Manslaughter. Murder. Ridiculous and ridiculous feelings.

As invisible as the memories in the mind are, they are – surely – no less the casket with which events are buried. Bitter pasts and sweet pasts fall into the vast sea of history and remain most inevitable assets of times pasts. It is amazing how events rust and rot but the casket in which they events are buried is ever fossil.

CHAPTER TWO

In Africa, events seem not to die with time. the continuity in the life of events here is in the consistency with which they are administered in Proverbs – especially by the elders. The attitude of recapturing events in great sayings has been made a great magical therapy for healing the soul. And, it’s excellent. So, past events are chewed in the mouth like kola nut.

And, it is, in fact, in this life of concern for the past that Africa is accused elsewhere as being backward.

One of such therapies has come to establish man-dominance, where the male automatically assumes superiority in his society from birth. From birth, a man must be known, especially for guts and then adventure rather than for tender open emotions. He should grow to have the-heart-of-a-lion. That is what makes a man. A man who puts his emotions on his palms is a kwase-kwase or a woman-full-of-weakness – even though physically he may be a man. He will be made jest of. And his talk will receive no honour in the presence of his peers. So, men hide their tender feeling like the back of a tortoise in its shell.

When a man should go to seek the hand of a woman in marriage, he should present himself in full capabilities, especially by taking many gifts to prove his strong hand to his in-laws. When food is brought to him, he should not act in haste in emptying the calabash, he should always remember to have left over of the food in the dish – else, he would be regarded as tor-rwam or king of eating. How would he like to be known by food?

Africa says soft emotions are women’s assets. But truly, even the elders do know and admit in their minds that there are a handful of women who can throw men in a wrestling contests by guts. But women should be women anyway, so it seems.

Now, I am feeling very shy. How can I so openly confess that the first time I had ever seen Amake, my mind was beating with lust. That, I liked the girl remarkably at once! Is this talk not one showing my weakness?

I was still an undergraduate then, in my second year. School had resumed for academics. I, too, resumed, but with a tough challenge – I had no money for the payment of a hostel accommodation. In fact, normally, in my second year, I was not entitled to hostel accommodation. The accommodations were only allocated to fresh-students and final-year students. And that year, most final-year students could not have legal allocations since the bed spaces were already insufficient for the freshers. I had to buy a bed space from any student who had acquired from the school, but decided to sell out. And that was to cost me more money than I was to pay to the school directly.

So, I went to my Head of Department, Professor Abu and I pleaded with him to allow me stay in with im since he was single. The man eagerly accepted. He promised, though, that he would get me some money to get myself an accommodation in the hostels from any student who was willing to sell. I was okay with the idea, and I moved in with him, for a time.

One evening, as I was reading by the dining table under a weak wall lamp, a knock came from the door. I went an opened. Before me, the most beautiful lady I had ever seen stood by the door. Some was light skinned and entering-in-the-eye. She smiled at me and we greeted. I pulled wide the door and she entered, and went straight to the Professor – who sat watching the TV – and they hugged. I swallowed a huge saliva that was gathering in my mouth, then I went to the dining table and continued with my reading. And the girl joined the Professor on the chaise lounge.

That lady was Amaka, then twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, not more.

For no reason I can remember, my eyes were so curious to steal a look of her. And then, suddenly, I looked. I saw something that was outmostly suprising to me. Amaka was now layig straight across the sitting man, with her head on the arm of the chair. It was the way her breasts were almost pouring out from her wide-neck stripped-arms top that got my heart thumping. Ver, you stupid Ver! Bladifool, stop staring!

The Professor’s eyes met with mine in a lasting brief time that I stared. I was confused – I thought of giving out a smile, it would have been a foolish smile, indeed – and so, I took away my eyes from the Prof and then I continued with my reading. The poor book was a vast of invisibility. Ekwe!

As my eyes wondered in the book, I heard some footsteps as the two walked into the Professor’s room. A door opened. The girl’s laughing voice. Door closed. And then, silence.

Few minutes later, Amaka came out counting a few leaves of money. I pretended I wasn’t aware she was there.

She picked her hand bag from the chair, turned to me with a ‘hi’. I lifted my head, she smiled shyly, waved at me briefly. I, too, waved. And then, she walked to the door.

At the door, Amaka struggled her feet into her shoes, and then, pulled the door and walked out. As my eyes would return into the book I was reading, they stopped at the Professors portrait on the wall – and I smiled, shook my head, breathed heavily once. And then, I buried my eyes in the book.

A picture of Amaka silhouetted on my mind, and stayed for sometime. And then, I realized I was not thinking of Amaka any longer, but of my sister Benedicta. Smiling Benny. Lovely Benny. And then, Benny and I were children once again, playing together in the dust at Saint Augustine Primary school in Minlan – Akam. My mother’s picture, a typically beautiful African woman. She is talking to Eliza, the Catechist’s wife. Eliza has a child in her arms. I am told his name is Adu.

Now, the terrible memory of my mother’s death comes to my mind as I see Amaka who is sitting just four seats away from me at the convocation ceremony of my Alma-mata. The picture of Aker comes to my mind. Benny is talking to me on the phone, ‘Aker is dead’.

I turn towards Amaka and look at her, she smiles – the same smile I saw that very day when I opened the door for her at Professor Abu’s house.

CHAPTER THREE

The convocation ceremony of my Alma-mata, the University of IBRU, is heavily attended. Yet, by to ten, people are still pouring into the school for the occasion. The day is bright. The skies are blue. Trees are swaying with the winds. Zora hills are appearing slightly faintly from the clan of Yenu. The voices of men chanting in and within the convocation tent is a buzz like from a corwded market square. Birds on trees are chirping tirelessly. Walking towards the convocation tent, I stop at a dry leaf that is stumbling idly on the ground with the gentle blowing wind. The leaf rolls only awhile and then it becomes dead.

I walk into the tent and take a seat. And honestly, I am feeling proud of myself for the success that I have recorded as a graduate of the university. My graduation is worth being glad about. If I am not to be proud of myself as a graduate at least, I should be as the best graduating student in Philosophy of my graduating year. E no easy! And, I am sure that this my academic performance will fetch me a handful of tribute. I am anticipating a prize, or something good.

As I take the seat and wait for the while for the commencement of the occasion, I can picture my future. An anticipated good future. What else would a man want? A good wife after getting a good job? That will be okay! And then, my children. Good schools for my children – I will show my children love. A nice home for my family. A good car. Two, three good cars. Good. Okay. Ah, why am I being ridiculously self centered? What about my contributions to humanity? Start a charity, NGO? Good. Support the good message of Christ? Good. Fabulous. I have to love my neighbours and everybody. But this is a commandment in deed! My enemies, what do I do to them? Love! Ah!!

My friend, Ajegbaje, is walking into the convocation tent. He is coming towards me. The boy is looking poorly good. Then, in our school days, Ajegbaje was a very good keyboardist. No less. He played for our church, campus fellowship, at school. The New Anointed Christian Campus fellowship was fast gaining acceptance, then, on campus. When Ajegbaje would mount the keyboard, very church member knew we were in for a sway time. We would dance and dance and dance. But Ajegbaje himself is always strange, a very quiet young man. OJ had always found Ajegbaje to be rather funny. And life, as it is, is diversity. Every individual is unique. One can’t always expect the other to live up to one’s expectations, socially and otherwise. Ajegbaje walks into the convocation tent and takes a seat beside me, on the left. We exchange pleasantries – and shake hands. He smiles at me! It’s surprising that this young man, who would smile once in a year time, has smiled so broadly at me! I do not hesitate to smile back. But his smile is as brief as within the tick of a clock. He becomes cold and turns his face away from me – staring towards the left side of the tent. I am thinking: the boy has put on a lot of weight just this soon after our school in IBRU. His cheeks are sagging.

Pride is beginning to gather in my heart again. The convocation ceremony promises to be a beautiful occasion. My name would just be called for a prize as the best graduating philosopher. And then I would walk to the platform of the tent with a lot of good swagger, get the prize and walk back to my seat. Many cars are still driving into the school for the occasion.

My thought is interrupted. Jemi is waling to me. He is dressed in a fine grey pinstriped suit. And, he is already giving me a smile as he is approaching. Bright smile. Wide mouth.

‘Aha! Boy!’ He salutes me. And he stretches his hand forward. I grab it and we shake each other, powerfully. I suppose Jemi knows I am the best graduating philosopher. If he doesn’t know, w-e-l-l…

I perceive a light and lovely perfume on the boy.

‘Ol’ boy, you de work for bank, ni?’ I joke. Perhaps, I may just be correct. “Every” graduate these days want to work with a bank or oil company. It is said banks and oil companies throw large pay into their workers hands.

‘For where! Where I take see bank work?’ Jemi laughs, pats me on the left shoulder, ‘I dey come,’ he says and then walks to Ajegbaje, and they shake hands.

Jemi walks three seats away to a lady who is sitting two seats beside Ajegbaje. He and the lady shake hands. The lady is light-skinned. Amaka! It’s Amaka who Jemi is shaking hands with. The boy turns back to me and takes a seat just beside me by the right. We shake hands once again and begin a talk.

‘What for goodness sake are you doing, man?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like a job…”

‘Hmm…,’ he laughts, ‘Wetin dey? There are no jobs. You see, when I was in school, I used to think jobs were there waiting, until now -. In fact, in see toilet to sweep, I go happy.’

‘Haba, it’s not that bad –.’

‘I am not joking!’ He swears.

‘You see, I am hoping that as the best graduate from philosophy, something good should come out of this occasion!’

‘Are you the best graduate for your department?’ he asks, his eyes are pouring out at me. And I tell him that I am.

But how can I be sitting so close to Amaka without knowing? I turn to the lady and send a hand waving in the air. She waves back gladly. She is smiling. This smile reminds me of the first time when I saw her at Professor Abu’s house. And then, it brings me terrible memories, and poor picture of beloved ones who are no more. ‘Aker is dead’. My mother – a pool of blood is running from the cut of her neck. My heart is thumping chaotically. I am feeling the sounds of gongs being beaten madly in my head, as it is when the spirits make merry at night.

‘Ol’ boy, yo use that guy there?’ Jemi turns to me pointing at Eglagwa.

‘That boy sabi book! That is a brilliant chap!’

‘Sure,’ I reply, for goodness sake.

‘Eglagwa made a neat first class degree, he is denying it.’

‘Why?!’ I ask sharply.

‘Why!’ Jemi is pouring his eyes at me once again, and looking indeed very surprised.

‘It’s jealousy fa! It is said that Professor Uzune deprived the boy an A grade. Instead, the man gave him a haggard, horribly tattered – looking E!

‘Really!’

‘Ah!’ Jemi’s Yoruba accent is terrible.

Ah! And how come he is so glad about the Professor’s art? Or is he glad, rather, that he is giving me the news first hand. Which exactly?

I turn and look at Eglagwa who is sitting a few meters away.

‘So what did Eglagwa say?’

‘What should he say? If na you, wetin you go say? You go take the man go court?’

‘N-o-. But, at least, Eglagwa could have informed the Senate.’

‘Ah! S-e-neti! You no hear say Uzune fight for senate meeting three times them suspend am!’

‘Poor boy,’ I say hushly and shake my head –

If I have ever so respected any young man, it should be no other than Eglagwa. And I have reasons for doing so. For any reason, Eglagwa seems to know everything so well. Even so, he is equally so humble. And that’s what I respect him for.

A gentle cool blowing wind turns into the convocation tent. It has rained in a nearby village – Aje Ikie, Lafia or perhaps the hilly Zora. I take out a handkerchief from my trouser pocket and clean my face.

‘Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, please, welcome the members of the School Senate.’ An old jazz that has been playing into the air from the mega speaker systems dies away suddenly. A man with well kept beard is standing by the mike stand on the tent platform not much bigger than a podium.

There is a clamouring of feet as people are standing from their seats. And, we are on our feet. A procession emergies from the right wing of the tent. The academic officer is leading. He is followed by the Dean of Student Affairs – Doctor Godwills Ujo. Deans of Faculties are following closely with Directors of Centers. Other Senate members are then following.

The senate procession is being followed by the Chancellor’s. Chief (Barr.) Ugaji Asaju – the Udulaguna (III) of Kubwa – a rather smallish man, is the Chancellor to the university. Following very closely to the chancellor is the Registrar of Council. Ministers of the Federal Republic are following with State Governors. And then, the school VC. The Vice Chancellor is a man whom I admire a lot. A man with great visions and full of achievements. I can never be to sycophantical about him.

The Chancellor, Asaju, is being followed by the Pro-Chancellor. The Pro-Chancellor is followed by the Senate President, David Wami Udungu, who is standing in for the school visitor – the President of the country and commander in chief of the armed forces.

Jemi turns to me, ‘One day, na so you go be SP for this country’

‘What?’ I ask calmly.

‘You are surely going to be a Senate President to this country one day’, he says smiling.

‘A-m-e-n-.’ I say smiling back at him dully. I snape into my watch, it is a minute past ten.

want to read more, visit hulek2@yahoo.com

Celebrated Independence

Nigeria is in a state of celebration today, the first of October. The celebration is because of the country’s 49^th independence from Colonial rule. In Makurdi, the headquarters of Benue State, the celebration this morning held at the IBB Square. It was colourful. Various schools and voluntary organizations turn-up and made the day clourful. Amongst the voluntary organizations, Christembassy Church was wonderful! Christembassy (which is also known as Believers Love world) went out distributing free copy of a daily devotional called Rhapsody of Realities by Pastor Chris and Anita Oyakhilome. Ten million copies of the ninety page handbook were taken by youths in colourful greens and whites to public places throughout the country. The youth went out singing a powerful song ‘I believe in Nigeria! In Makurdi, the Church also won a prize for participating colourfully in a match-pass. Such a spirit of encouraging and promoting patriotism and nation building is highly encouraging. Soon, it is hoped that Nigeria will be on a turn around for good. Children will go to schools more freely. Hospitals will give better services. The streets will be friendly. The Niger-Delta crises in the oil rich part of the country will die. Universities will resume from the long strike. Youths will be empowered. Love will flow through the country like fresh air. And then, Nigeria will become a standard in Africa.

Presently, there is worry in the minds of many youths concerning what will become of their education; since ASUU continues its nationwide strike. The true independence of a country is the freedom her citizens would have regarding better facilities. One day, soon, Nigeria will celebrate that independence

happiness for single ladies

Every woman, like every man, like what is good. Most young women feel that what is good is in a man’s house. So, they live their lives with a heartbeating believe that someday, they will be married. But sometimes, in their fourties, it turns out to be like that dream of getting married to a man is shattered. And even before the fourtieth birthday, they would really be looking indeed depressed. But most part of the world today are more and more getting involved in activities that deprive ladies early marriage. Such activities involve the pursuit for higher education and career pursuits, insecurity on the part of men, discrimination of whom to marry, and fear of marriage which is usually based on the experience of their mothers.

Ackwardly, when a lady is not married at ‘the right time’, parental pressure slips in. Sometimes,especially in Africa, it is either a spiritual attack on the lady and her family or that the lady lack morals. Most often,this assumptions are rarely the case.

So far, fear is the beginning to occupy the minds of most undergraduating single ladies. They fear for lack of a husband after school. The ASUU strike will, indeed,wear the minds of such, because maybe a man who promised to them marriage would have began to be tired of waiting for them to graduate from school . Except plans would change.

Consequently, bad thoughts have driven many good girls to bed with hurrible men. The lady would have tried to please the man to secure a future marriage.

Some ladies even date married men. It is called ‘seeing a man’or ‘having fun,’ and that is where they get it blatantly wrong. There is a category that goes out with undergraduates for reasons of reputation.

The ‘I am God fearinglady’ would hold her peace and go about trying to live a responsible life. But maybe, many years after school, she would have still not found a man.

Where ever a lady finds herself, she should believe that life is good and that she can be her best, happily . Being a single lady doesn’t make a lower or a second class lady of her. If she were a man, she would be moving on ,but as a lady,she feels she cannot.

And I ask, why? Why would she become sorrowful instead of been grateful to God for her life and drive on? She would unfortunately believe in waiting for a man whom she may not understand better than she would understand herself.

The truth is that getting married to a man doesn’t make a lady complete, getting married to God does. A lady should not throw away her dignity at men. And being depressed would not bring a man for marriage, neither. Of course, it would worsen life when a lady begins to feel depressed or feels people are getting talking. When people are talking, it’s the right time to connect to God and do something great. It is the time to beleive in herself for happiness. It is the time to be cheerful and to begin to look bright. Sorry, it’s not the right time to look frustrated and start ‘sleeping’ with all sorts of demons simply because she feels one day marriage would come out of it.

You can be happy and be who you’ve dreamt to be in life.Would you like to talk, call +2347066386425 or leave a message at hulek2@yahoo.com

how you can make good money from your hobbies, even as a student

Every individual is always a product of their thought. Some persons view themselves with an inferior and inadequate lens. They simply feel that they can’t afford to do what others are doing. They feel they don’t have the nerves for it. Or they feel that they were born with a demon of weakness. And that all thier lives, they should be poor, financially. That’s the impression I would like to correct. A good life is every individuals birth-right. Funnily, living a good and successful life doesn’t require struggling. It doesn’t require a degree certificate, as most people would think. Perhaps, I can’t advocate against getting an academic certificate. But, I honestly feel that one’s ability for grabbing sucess is something that comes from the mind; motivationally. How one shapes their thought is essential for the lenght they can go.

There are as many things, as much as thought can go,to get involved in to attain enviable heights in life.

As a student, there are many opportunities. For instance if I like reading novels, that’s a hobby for me. I can for sure change it into fast cold cash. If I like watching football; Arsenal,Man-U,Chelsea and so on, I can make good money from that! Cold cash!

How can I make money from watching football as a fan?

There are a million and one ways to do so. I can bet! Now, that’s not gambling. I can bet because I know what I am going for, and its a hobby. I can make people pay to hear me talk about football! Poeple will always pay for what they like. Without much arguements, lets believe that your world is with you – and you can change it for good.

Most people have a hobby for watching fish swim in a shallow water. They fail to acknowledge that they can change the hobby into money, even students. Recently, new technologies have made it possible for fish to be produced in mobile ponds, instead of concrete ponds or earthponds as it was. A mobile fish pond enables you to relocate conviniently at anytime and anyday. And you can have the pond right in your bedroom or in the parlour, if you want. You can have it in the hostel or in your office. And as you sit there every day staring at swimming fish, you are staring at your money as it grows rapidly. It’s as easy as that! Your hobby can become your cash. A fingerling bought at twenty naira can be sold four to seventy month later at a thousand naira or more! If the fish is well fed, can really grow very rapidly. Some catfish grows very rapidly. Imagine having hundred fingerlings in a mobile pond at the price of twenty naira each. That will cost two thousand naira. And then four or five months later, the hundred fish is sold at a thousand naira. That will make a hundred thousand! Sweet cash! Thats what I call luck. Getting answers right away. Oh, you don’t know that celebrities make their living on hobbies? That’s right! Micheal Jackson, the late, would tell you right away that he danced for fun, not for money. Samuel Eto’o plays for fun, not for money. You can achieve greatness from fun. And remember, I am emphasizing that it will be right in the comfort of your home.

You feel we can talk? That’s right. You give me twenty minutes out of your time and I will change your hobbies into cold, hard cash. If I don’t I will apologise very specially for wasting your time. You want to call? Go ahead, dial +2347066386425 or send an e-mail to hulek2@yahoo.com .Have the moment your life has so longed for!

the situation with ASUU strike: president Yar Adua vows not to reat!

13 weeks ago, the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) strike started in Nigeria. Consequently, public Universities in the country have closed down. Public universities are fully grown with bushes. ASUU started the strike to drive home its demand for a better finding of universities, for academic freedom and University autonomy, for increased salaries of members and for the retirement age of members to be 70 years, rather than 64.

During the first weeks of the strike, the Federal Government of Nigeria, FGN, somehow had a dialogue with officials of ASUU. Consequently, the retirement age for professors has been lifted to 70 years, salaries of University lectures has been reviewed upwards by 40 percent. A professor would go home with a half smile and N450,000 while a low academic bags 90 pieces of a thousand naira note,monthly. Two Billion naira has been set aside for books and journal purchase. During those initial days of the strike, FG also accepted to increase grants for research works. And then, a University, a Polytechnic and a College of Education were selected for renovation and modernization. FG also said N210.5 billion naira will be allocated to education this year compared to the N210.5 billion of 2009 budget. So far, the Education Trust Fund, ETF, is to inject N33 billion in intervention projects and programmes.

ASUU has indeed pressed FGN to the wall to get this far. But truely speaking, the Nigerian higher Education Environment needs a re-wash! Most Universities have a grossly inadequate number of hotels for students. Students crowd in a room like housefly would do to spoit food. Universities don’t have laboratories or the available ones are very akward – and are always over crowded during practicals.

In some situations, light is always failing on campuses. Sometimes, student don’t have water to bath or drink for days! So, ASUU had to engage in an industrial strike action

But very woriedly is the fact that FG has to be pressed to a wall before it can realise the need for uplifting (or at least maintaining) the standard of education in the country! And even now, Federal Government is very reluctant to sign an agreement making it mandatory for state governments which own Universities to offer thier academic staff the same service conditions as those enjoyed by their counterpart in the Federal Universities.

The president of ASUU, Professor Akachukwu Awuzie, vowed in an ASUU meeting at the University of Ibadan (UI) on Thursday, August 20, 2009 that ‘‘it is better to die fighting on our feet, instead of crawling on our knees.’’

ASUU is indeed, determined for death! They are ready to bear the cross without salary payments. FG is also, been very sillent to react to the strike, recently – despite plead by individuals and organizations for Mr. President’s intervention.

Now, students are very idle. They can’t take-up jobs without certificates. So, most students go from streets to streets with frowning faces. Students are begining to become a burden to parents at home. And its begining to become more terrible. But why is FG so sillent?

Professor Awuzie, the ASUU president, said ‘‘it is true this government has instrument(s) of coercion; but we know that truth will always prevail.’’ One would say that the continuity of the strike is not putting the image of FGN in a good place. And that will be right! FG can devise better ways of handling the strike. And Nigerians are looking up to the President; whose one of the seven point Agenda is base on promotion of education.

But Mr President seems to, so far, be less worried over the strike. Perhaps he is handling better diplomatic situations at the time. Or has he vowed not to react to the strike?

the situation with ASUU strike: president Yar Adua vows not to reat!

how to use your time effectively

Whether one is rich or poor, tall or short, fat or thin, all people share an equal amount of time in terms of hours per day. That’s how nature has made it.

There is no individual who has twenty-five hours or thirty hours in a day. All have twenty-four hours. The value we attach to time, in some way, determines were we can be and when. Some students waste their doing nothing. They lazy around without a purpose. King Solomon in proverbs 6 talked to such:

You are snared with the Words of your mouth; you are taken with the words of your mouth. Do this now, my son, and deliver yourself. When you have come into the hand of your friend; go, humble yourself, and plead with your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids. Deliver yourself as a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, and as a bird from the hand of the fowler. Go to an ant, you sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: who having no guides, overseer, and no ruler, provides her food in the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest. How long will you sleep O sluggard? When will you arise out of your sleep? Yet a little sleeps, a little Slumber, of little folding of the Hand to sleep: so shall your Poverty come upon you like a Vagabond and your want like an armed man.

Sleeping a lot or idling around lazily is a time killer. This doesn’t mean one shouldn’t rest. But taking too much rest is not good enough. A student or any individual who uses time effectively is always ahead of others. While other people are sleeping at night, the individual with a foresight is busy building. When the day comes, the individual would have covered twice the work. That is the secrete of attaining enviable heights in an unbelievably short time. No individual who has true success has just been their like that by mistake. They made good use of their time. These achievers; when they walk up in the morning, they have a plan for the day, and they also follow the plan consistently. Even though every individual has tendencies for weakness and failure, successful people press ahead. They use their time effectively .we can live twice our life if we use both day time and very effectively.

how to use