JENNIE IFEATU

Oh! You are here already? Welcome to Ifeatu's Havillah. FVJ is the biggest disease rocking the earth right now. What if I don't need to test you and know you already have it? Don't worry I won't keep you waiting for long like you are waiting on an HIV test, that will be too mean. So, does it beat you how ugly looking people seem to have beautiful and amazing virtues or characters? How soft some fierce looking people can be deep inside? How tiny some fat people's voices could sound? If we take on FVJ, these things may have been considered to be contrary. It's all because they are not subject to Face Value Judgment (FVJ). In a world where every Tom, Dike and Hauwa are driven by sight, its very easy to be given to FVJ. Observing the outward appearance is good but take time to study the inward path of things too. In business negotiation, daily life choices, relationship, execution of task and a whole lot of other things, you need more than Face Value Judgment.

Stephanie was the product of my eight years long walk away from home. I eloped from my shame and pain for that long. My mother said my unwanted pregnancy was due to the fact that I was uncircumcised, that uncircumcised girls are promiscuous. “When are we going to see Granny?” Steph would ask. I would lift her up in my arms. “Soon, Baby. Soon.” I decided to take the route back to the same place I had left eight years ago. I couldn’t take Steph because I was not sure of the reactions that awaited me. Things had changed a lot, I heard a filter of my music play in a local bar. My people liked my music but probably not my personality. Mama looked a bit older now, her eyes still had her sparks and her body was still in form despite her age, she embraced me like the prodigal child and we wept. She was elated to see me. “…and where is my grandchild?”, she asked. I looked away. “I couldn’t come with her.” She shook her head. “You didn’t do well.” My homecoming was the c

Did I hear you say you don't have a grave? Everyone will have one someday but make sure you don't go there with excess luggage. A saying says "The richest place is the grave". That is because there are a lot of intelligent decayed brains mixed with humus and sky-towering dreams that slipped away without being worked upon. So you have a dream? And you need to achieve certain goals to acquire that dream but you are doing nothing about it at the moment. So, I ask again why do you intend to go there with excess luggage. Its a choice to pursue your dreams and if you do, you will be glad you did. Start working towards that thing you imagine when drinking your malt that makes you smile and slip out your tongue as you lap up the froth sitting over the black tasty liquid. Make your goals SMART: Specific, measurable, attainable, relevant and timely. Your goals are tiny bullets you can shoot at your dreams till you finally gun her down. You have no reason not to achieve

The east wind had been dragging our sail backward. "Man your oars", I would hear Marcus yell from time to time. The tired men kept our ship sailing despite their famished frames, we had exhausted our stock of food. The only thing keeping us hopeful and optimistic was the thought of getting to Taurus mountain. We had to show these senseless beings who had abducted our people that we were no weaklings. We were going to save our mothers, brothers, sisters, wives and children no matter the situation.  Linus sat uprightly at the stern of the ship inhaling and exhaling the fresh Mediterranean breeze as he ate something with a jagged knife. He masticated like a goat. Other crew members on board had rumored that he often caught birds in the air, plucked out their eyes and munched on it. Was I surprised? Never! After all his mother was a Barbarian. Evaristus was also on board. A wanted bandit and convicted man. The escaped one who ought to have been beheaded for treason in Rom

Noon melts the morning dew Discarded me becomes brand new Grace that renewed my path and pace My treadmill walk turns a track race I was the defiled Whose ills filled a file Whose story tasted of bile Who yearned for cleansing from the Nile I was the ball Fired by the Most Violent Player The Striker that strikes the strenghtless A goal headed for doom's post Yet I am the one washed in blood Who radiates light A survivor of hurricane 'Transgression' Saved by the kings passion on the cross I am the gift wrapped in the king's love Shielded from Lucifer's tinkling gloved finger The tempter thought my stay would linger But who lives in mars and continually sits on a stove?

He greeted the guests as they waited outside the cathedral. The wedding mass was set for 10:00am, the atmosphere was light and joyous. It seemed like everyone knew someone here. Then a little boy emerged from the crowd screaming "Uncle Maxxy! Uncle Maxxy! The groom beamed a broad smile and embraced his little nephew. "Where is your mum?, he asked. The little boy pointed in the direction, he ruffled the sparse hair on the little lad's punk-styled haircut then he scuttled away to play with the other kids. Ben, his bestman approached him with an handkerchief. "Ol' boy I fear the hangover of dancing to 'Oya dab' yesterday night at your bachelor's eve has been reflected on your jacket. The groom's face and eye brows twitched in brief confusion. "Your nephew just dabbed his chocolate hands on your jacket", Ben broke the news. "Jeeeeeez! What am I gonna do?" The groom cried. "Let's have it taken to a dr