Eze's Musing

We came late. People had waited long and were in a hurry to go. We got in for the negotiations. I am not used to any of such. So, I was really apprehensive. My parents were too, since they didn't know the traditions of our host. So, when the eldest man of the family began to pour out and count the pear seeds, our unease rose to a max. My mum's face went pale, my dad shrunk, and I could feel my hollow tummy. We waited as he counted.  It turned out that the pear seeds was a symbol of money. Each pear was a thousand Naira. And since we were not bargaining for a goat, but a woman, we can't haggle money directly. The culture said we had to go back and forth on it three times. So, we did. When it was done, the elder counted __ seeds and another__ seeds. The deal was done. The tradition says pay the first set now and the second set whenever.  Next, Victor Akpagu whisked me away to get photographed. The next twenty minutes was clinging and snapping with Somto and her girls.We we

I remember a story I was told when I was a child. How the Spider got his distinct thorax-abdomen constriction. The spider, it was told had agreed with different people to be in their event (or was it to help them on the farm?). The activities for the different groups fell into the same day and time. So, when it was time they all came to take the spider along. A heated argument arose, each claiming that they informed him first, and so had the right to take him along; and their engagements were all very important. Nobody wanted to listen to anybody, so they each tied a rope on Mr. Spider's waist in an attempt to drag him off from the others. The four parties ended up pulling at four different directions. The result is what we see today. Today, I will call myself that spider. Not that I have agreed to attend a function, but that I have achieved a duality (if not quadruplicity) in my religious and social interactions that has now presented a difficulty in planning my special event. No

Photos by qimono at pixabay I am getting married!!! Yes, I am. Many people talk about their vision of how they would feel when they are about getting married, but I didn't have any. So, here am I about to get married, but I feel very regular, of course, except for having to spend more  So, who are my marrying? My teenage-time crush!  An all time prayer point!! Some how Providence kept Somto single till I was ready. Come September 11, God willing, I will be married to Somto. I send this as an informal notification and a formal request for support - good will and monetary - mostly monetary really. '"One person does not cook for the community", the Igbos say; signifying that when it comes to catering for a community project, an individual can only do so well, when that same community helps. In these few weeks, I have understood this more as needs and requirements mount. I will be pleased to get support from you as I anticipate September 11, the day Chinedu says 'I do

When it comes to sex and intimacy before marriage, it is not a matter of perspectives among denominations or between modern and ancient. It is about the definitive verdicts  of God's written word. Intimacy should always be in the confines of marriage. We should always guard against levels of closeness that weaken our defenses. That clutch and hands wrapped around the charming lady maybe sinless,  but it opens the door to a chain reaction we are not designed to always control. You've got a beautiful lady, stunning in her red sleeveless dinner gown. And you are a cute masculine young man,  dressed flawlessly in an Italian suit.  And both of you have to walk side by side.  Next thing, the imagination springs into action - You guys are already lady and man. And you dare to wrap your hands round her waist,  while she leans on you and walks the most courteous lady walk. Then her chemistry is activated but you don't know. And she leads you on with talk and gesture. Your

Introduction Sexuality is a good gift, good in all its sense. Perversion could happen but the live wire placed within each of us is a special gift. A little distinction - men and women need different triggers to initiate the sex machinery. ‘Traditionally’ men are triggered by information from the eyes. Women are generally led by touch. The Milk-bag Theorem . The world system exploits the understanding of the masculine sexual machine to achieve her desired aims. Popular methods include: -             - Gaining brand attention by using sexually stimulating visuals -           -    Selling services through good looking maids -           -   Gaining affection by ‘display’ A significant tool used in the ploy for exploiting masculine sexuality is the female breasts. To a mind blowing extent, the sight of the breasts does a great jig in the male machinery. And that’s the m ilk-bag theorem – men respond to the sight of the breasts. The world system knows this and

I had to write down my thoughts about this feeling boys have for girls. I won’t bother about what it is called. I am not writing from a detached point; I have had same for a girl. Firstly, this feeling completely sidelines logic in decision making. Secondly, it sickens the loving party when it is not mutual. I call that CROSSFIRE – Igodo loves Nedu, Nedu loves Nneoma not Igodo, Nneoma loves Guy X and Guy X loves Lady B. It is however pleasant when the love is mutual – Nedu loves Nneoma and Nneoma loves Nedu – that’s ecstasy. But why the crossfire? Why does Nedu dread the thought of closing up with Igodo? Igodo is a virtous woman and Nedu knows but why is he not closing in – Because of the flux. The fountain of Nedu’s being oscillates unexplainably for the companionship of Nneoma. He acknowledges the love of Igodo but is bound by the flux to the other lady whose love is not forth coming. The feelings between boys and girls is indeed strange. I guess the marriage co

Bukola’s hug snuffed the life out of me. It was unexpected, uncalculated, all I knew was that I was engulfed in her arms and she pressed in hard. I had offered my hands and a broad smile in my characteristic manner with all ladies but somehow (I can’t explain) she jumped that barrier and threw a hug at me, unfortunately my instinct was not to dodge. The effect of the hug was remarkable, coming at the verge of my psychological loneliness and feeling of never being considered by ladies. Nneoma had grown distant from me, and so any psychological connection I had with any human was severed. So, I was all the while on the mechanical mode of life. On the pervading feeling of never being attractive to ladies, it was because none of them ever went out of their way to just get a talk with me, and whenever I did talk, they kept it short and simple – like they didn’t want to have any dealings beyond the official. I am not talking about romantic dealings but friendship. So, getting a hug a