Dilemmas with Lola: TO SPEAK OR NOT TO SPEAK

Ololade Okedare

“Thank God it’s Friday”, was the only relieving thought on Jide’s lips as he waved bye to his colleagues. Weekends were an opportunity to spend the whole weekend out of the house. He often slept over at his professional training centre. As he walked down the street leading home, he got a call from Aunty Tife. Suddenly a feeling of foreboding filled his heart, as he picked up. She sounded excited as she revealed a surprise; she was in Lagos! Briefly, she explained that she was close to the house and had been calling her husband’s number to no avail, trying to determine if he was home or not. Jide stuttered as he replied that he was not home yet but would call her in few minutes. He hung up quickly as he broke into a near run, guessing his uncle was having a tryst at home.

He got home panting, and went straight for the window as was now his habit, to listen for any indication, that his uncle was a lone occupant or not. He was not alone today, and as Jide stepped back from the window, his phone rang again. Aunty Tife was now on the street, approaching the house. He quickly ran inside, banged on door of the room loudly and said with as much scorn as he could, “Aunty Tife is at the gate!” There was a brief silence, few whispers, a sound like a slap on the face, with a corresponding shriek and then sudden commotion as the lovers obviously tried to coordinate themselves. Within minutes, the lady was out, hair dishevelled, half buttoned blouse, her shoes, bag and other accessories dangling in her hands as his Uncle rushed her out through the kitchen to the backyard, almost losing her tooth as she stumbled down the short stairs.

Jide rushed back to check if all was well; all evidence cleared off when Aunty Tife knocked on the door. His uncle opened the door with a fake smile and Jide was disgusted to his bones. There was no telling her anymore, as he was fully an aid and abettor to his uncle’s deception. His uncle soon released his frustration under the guise of hating the idea of his wife leaving the children alone in Ibadan, to which Aunty Tife replied that she had decided to surprise her husband since his schedule hardly permitted him to come home on weekends anymore and her younger sister was home with the kids. Jide wondered if she suspected anything. His uncle began to give him suspicious looks as though silently asking if he had anything to do with his wife’s unexpected appearance.

It was definitely time to move. He gathered money over the remaining months, found a one bedroom apartment in a shanty area, but it was his and he was proud of it. He began to move his things little by little, waiting for the right moment to tell his uncle. One of the rare occasions that his uncle went to visit his family, he found a letter bearing a quit notice reminding his uncle that the rent had expired two months earlier and since he had no intentions of renewing his rent, he had just few weeks left to vacate the premises. Jide was surprised. His uncle had not informed him of his intentions to relocate. Was it to another part of town, or back to Ibadan or even somewhere else entirely? He was not left to wonder for too long, as he discovered the same day, a document revealing that his uncle had won the American visa lottery and his departure date was in few weeks. His shock soon turned to thanksgiving as he mused over his discovery. If he had not taken the bold step to begin sorting his life, start saving more seriously and get an accommodation before now, he would surely have been stranded, begging friends and colleagues to stay with them like a refugee.

His uncle returned and with a smile of satisfaction on his face, he informed his uncle that he would be leaving. He thanked him for his help thus far and walked gallantly away with his shoulders straight. Voila!

Ololade Okedare: She has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.

‪#‎justice4drtheresa: How a military officer brutalised a female medical doctor

The piece below is a narration of the experience of a female medical doctor in the hands of his male colleague who is a wing commander in the Nigerian Air Force. You can't read the piece and not get angry at the impunity with which the military officer acted. Something has to be done to make these guys realise they are not above the law. Please share this post till it gets to the attention of the nations military authorities.

We feel obliged to inform you of a rather troubling incident which happened to Dr. Theresa, a Senior Registrar 1 in the department of Psychiatry of Obafemi Awolowo University Teaching Hospital (Ile-Ife) and a dear friend to us all. She is a very gentle, easy going, ever smiling and hardworking resident doctor, but even if she didn't possess any of the aforementioned attributes, she didn't deserve any of what occurred in the duration of this incident.

It all began on Thursday 25th February 2016 at her service apartment building located outside the hospital. It seemed like just another day- a quiet morning with the dew still on the cars parked in the compound and chirping of insects the predominant sound till it was shattered by the shrill shouts of Dr. Okpara. Dr. Okpara is a Wing Commander in the Nigerian Air Force, a resident Doctor in the Dept of Community Medicine in the same hospital where Theresa works, and also resides in that compound. So what could make this man, slightly overweight and bespectacled, irate early on a Thursday morning?

The obstruction of his car in the parking lot within the compound; that's the simple answer, but as it sometimes happens in life, even simple things can devolve into ugly scenarios. As is common in some buildings, the parking space is inadequate and as such tenants have to park behind other cars within the compound. This doesn't constitute the end of the world and tenants occasionally call each other- through the security guard- to move their cars in the morning so that individuals are able to drive out.

According to an eye witness (who is a doctor in the same hospital and also lives within the same compound), Dr Theresa's car was obstructing Dr. Okpara's car and he called her out to move her car. She had told him she was dressing up and would soon be out. It would seem like the problem was settled but that wasn't good enough for him; he kept shouting and verbally abusing her. He didn't stop even when she came out to move her car. Perhaps affronted by her calm despite his torrents of abuses, he physically attacked her as she got into her car to make way for him.

Truth be told, saying physically attacked is sugar coating things. Truth is- and in the manner of calling a spade a spade- he beat her, with a succession of punches, each one meted out with the intent to humiliate her and put her in her place. And when the punches weren't doing a good job of that, he reached for a metal pedal lock as a coda to the lesson he was meting out. Thankfully he was restrained by some of the co-tenants but he did leave a mark, several marks actually, on her.

Theresa has a right nasal bone fracture, cerebrospinal fluid- the liquid which keeps the brain protected within the skull- leak, a deformed face, several bruises, and that's just listing the physical injuries. As it is, she has to decide if she wants major surgery to correct the facial deformity or live with a disfigured face for the rest of her life.

Life is a lot of things and sometimes we get a choice to either look the other way as though nothing has happened or stare tyranny in the face and make our voices heard. Maybe being a member of the Nigerian Air Force is a powerful intoxicant and what better way to demonstrate this than by beating up a woman- one defenseless woman, one who has overcome several odds to be who she is today, one who has lived with sickle cell disease all her life, one who is your sister, daughter, friend, and companion. Maybe it is easier to look the other way but in this fight, I stand with Theresa!

‪#‎justice4drtheresa‬

Thank you all. 

CMUL, 2008 Graduating Class of Medical Doctors & Dentists.

Watch this video:

Dilemmas with Lola: Speak or remain silent

It was closing hour. Jide sat glued to his seat while his colleagues went their way, each eager to get home and be refreshed. But for him, there was no home. No rest. The house promised nothing but misery, questions and more ammunition to the raging battle in his heart.

His head in his hands, his mind travelled to the day he had arrived in the city of Lagos; full of expectations and hope. He had finally secured a job after months of seeking employment as a graduate. The remuneration was not so fantastic, but it was a promising start. His uncle whose family resided in Ibadan, but worked in Lagos, had offered him accommodation: an important factor when relocating to a metropolitan city with peculiarities like Lagos. He was ‘good to go’ Sir!

Work was exciting, and he soon adjusted to the fast-paced style in Lagos, joining fellow hustlers on the roads as early as 4:30 am, getting home exhausted, after surviving the bite of traffic, late into the night. So the routine went for almost a month before the tide turned.

It was like any other day, Jide had got home hungry and exhausted after a long day at work, noting Uncle Dele had arrived since his car was parked in its usual spot. He entered the apartment, dropping his bag on the chair as he went straight to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. He gulped it down greedily as he strolled to the room he shared with his uncle, where Jide assumed he must be, probably sleeping after a long day. He opened the door and froze for a moment before his reflexes kicked in to save the day. He stepped back and closed the door. His heart was thumping fast in shock and disgust at what his innocent eyes just beheld. Surely he must be dreaming because he sure knew he wasn’t drunk. Jide had been raised with strict Christian beliefs, and till date had never engaged in the any of the vices many of his peers had.

He sank into the lone, old, wobbly sofa in the small, mosquito-infested parlour. His brain took in the sex-scene he just bumped into. The female partner was definitely not his uncle’s wife. They had hardly registered his brief intrusion, as engrossed as they were in the act. Was this a one-time thing or had it been going on behind his back? Thoughts of food vanished from his mind, as he waited for the love-birds to emerge from the room; they seemed to be in no hurry. Jide woke up with a start, his neck smarting from the impact with which his hand had by reflex landed on a mosquito. It was a quarter to midnight. Surely, they could not have stepped out without him knowing. He opened the room door an inch, and saw both lovers entangled together, fast asleep. He was tempted to slam the door and he only barely restrained himself. If uncle Dele had no shame, then this was no sudden one-night stand.

The following days proved him right, as one lady after the other came to spend the night. It was as though his uncle was compensating himself for the fasting period he had suffered to make Jide welcome. His uncle made no pretence of it, nor was he apologetic about his behaviour. Jide suffered mosquito bites until he could bear it no more and decided to make his presence felt one night. He thought his uncle would take the hint and stop having the girls sleep over. So that night, when the screams of fantasy had abated in the room, he went inside and laid on the plum, plush rug, determined to fight for his right. The air-conditioned atmosphere was a relief from the hot, mosquito-battlefield in the parlour.

All was unnaturally still; he pretended to be asleep, while no sound came from the bed. His uncle was definitely not expecting this move. After few minutes of pretending, he heard whispers and before he knew it, they were at it again, the girl begging his uncle to go gently. He almost died of embarrassment. That was the last time he tried it. Back to the rickety sofa and the combat zone it was.

Tears fell down his eyes, and he swiftly wiped them off, to avoid questions from his colleagues. Tony and Pete, his close pals at work stopped by his desk; they sometimes went home together. Both exchanged a knowing look at his fallen countenance. “Come on, let’s go, you don’t intend to sleep here overnight do you?” They encouraged him as they all left. As Pete drove, Tony asked, “what do you intend to do, tell your parents, inform his wife? I’m not sure you should keep this to yourself, so you don’t get implicated if this becomes a mess”

“His parents maybe, but his wife, I don’t think so, yam pepper scatter scatter be that o” Pete replied.

Jide sighed. His uncle’s beautiful wife was so kind and hospitable, very generous to boot. He enjoyed going to visit them, especially because of his little cousins who were so smart and cute. The delicious meals prepared by Aunty Tife were additional bait. He felt like he was betraying her by remaining silent. How could he ever look her in the eyes and pretend like he knew nothing? Yet, he doubted telling her would solve the problem. There was a particular light-complexioned lady who had become a regular in the house. She was always cooking and even served him food kneeling down in the respectful Yoruba fashion typical of ladies who were seeking approval with their intended husband’s family. He felt more and more like an accomplice!

He listened as Pete and Tony argued back and forth the pros and cons of either remaining silent or not. What was he to do?

To be continued….

Ololade Okedare: She has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.

The Quandary - Part 3 by Ololade Okedare

Olumide sighed as he waited for Uju to open the gate. He was exhausted to the bones and just couldn’t wait to take a shower and hit the bed. There was a lot to be worried about.  Mike his colleague at work had suddenly come up with a reason to need the money he loaned him for Uju’s school fees; something about his in-law’s hospital treatment. He had no way of proving it but there was a niggling thought at the back of his mind that this might actually have a lot to do with the embezzlement he had discovered in the office; a deal Mike was involved in. He had to be careful to avoid being implicated; he sent a quick prayer to God and amazingly felt peace flood his heart. He picked up his phone to call Uju, just in case she was sleeping, though that would be unusual of her, when the gate swung open. 

She seemed distracted lately. The toll of taking care of four children was probably getting to her; it sure served her right for being selfish. Immediately, he felt guilty; he had agreed to it after all. He felt so ashamed of having let go of his resolution to stick with three children. Deep down inside, he knew he would have been thrilled to have a boy, but it didn’t matter so much. When Sophie had been born, he had been angrier with himself than Uju. He felt he had betrayed the innate desire of the typical African man to have a male heir.

Uju welcomed Olumide with a wary smile and an apology for keeping him waiting, as she tried to decipher her husband’s mood. It was highly important that the atmosphere be just perfect to tell him about the news. She was tired of carrying the burden all alone. It was tearing her up, and she feared he would soon discover anyway, at the rate at which the symptoms were hitting her. No, she had decided not to abort.

Even if the risk to her life and health was not enough to scare her, or she was foolish enough to face a jail-sentence for committing a crime, she could not bear the thoughts of her conscience tormenting her. No, she would not do it for anything in the world! So she served Olumide his favourite dish of dodo oniyeri, slightly peppered to his taste and garnished with vegetables while praying today would not be the last time he accepted it from her.

Olumide brightened up at the sight of his favourite meal. The aroma alone was enough to sharpen his tired senses. He ate slowly; deliberately savouring every bite, allowing the different flavours hit the chords of his taste buds accurately. They sent reverberating notes to other parts of his body and he began to eye his wife suggestively. Uju noted the change in his mood and offered a silent prayer to God, this was the perfect time.

“I have bad news”, she decided to put the cards on the table straightaway, no sweet talk that would give him the wrong impression she planned this. Olumide paused to allow the delicious morsel of the peppered dodo go down his throat before saying anything. Nothing was going to ruin his appetite and intentions. 

“What is it?” using his tongue to pick out the pieces of meat stuck in his teeth. “I am pregnant” Uju replied in a calm tone that was far from the turmoil she was feeling inside, resigned to fate. Olumide bit his tongue, as his teeth clamped down involuntarily; all sensations in his mouth turning salty, and his body changed gear sharply. He swallowed hard and croakily said, “what!” His eyes begging her to tell him it was a joke. Uju’s calm façade was torn away, as she hastily began to plead her innocence and her surprise at the pregnancy despite the family planning, and how it was going to affect the family, how he must hate her right now but how she was not going to abort … "Stop, stop”, Olumide’s voice stopped the tirade of words, she was trembling but determined not to cry. She had decided to be coherent and not a ‘tear-escapist’; more misunderstanding occurs when a woman appears emotional and is not able to pass her message logically to the man.

Olumide stood up and wandered around absorbing the situation; this was his defining moment. He could choose to behave like a chauvinistic, egocentric fool…transfer the frustrations at work and inability to provide enough for the family on her, or even yield to the temptation to be a beast; not confronting his lack of self-control but blaming it on her carelessness…he could even walk out on her and the children; see it as an escape route…forsaking his children; his future and postpone the day of reckoning….but here he was unusually calm…he had defied the norm…norms can be broken and more humane ones made…women were not to be objects of ridicule, treated like trash, mere figure-heads created to pamper to every whim and fancy of a man and conveniently dumped when the going was tough to handle issues both of them were instrumental to. Who then was stronger, what then was the concept of masculinity? He slowly turned to her. “Whoever said anything about abortion here, why would you even bring that up?” Am I so evil that you think so badly of me, why would I walk out on you? “Wait”, he said as she was about to object, “I behaved badly the last time, yes, I was too proud to apologise. But I am sorry that I put you through that misery. You and I are as much responsible for this, and we are going to work it out together.

Uju blinked, it was one of those dreams right? Olumide moved towards her, his face determined; it was not going to be easy coping, but he was going to be a man this time. He held her close; he now understood the reason for the bags beneath her eyes and the fear he had caused her to suffer. “We will find a way out of this, I can’t promise it would be easy but I am going to be there for us”

Ololade Okedare has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.

Olajumoke Orisanuga: From bread seller to model (video and picture stories)

Olajumoke's grass to grace story can only be attributed to divine providence. It is the stuff fairy tales are made of but this one is real. Almost everyone who has heard the story has been amused at what only God can do. Watch these different videos of this amazing transformation that even the Transformation Agenda of the last administration could not have fathomed.

The Quandary – Part 2 by Ololade Okedare

“You did what?” Olumide asked quietly. His face was masked; she couldn’t read what was going on inside and feared this was the calm before the storm. She took a gulp of air to steady her shaking nerves. Even then, she stammered a little, “I...I… didn’t know what to do”.

”Then you should have done nothing”, he said this with a rising tempo, as he stood up and began to pace the living room. He turned to face her, and she could practically feel the heat of his wrath, mixed with an incredulous look as though it just dawned on him the implications of her revelation. “Who gave you the right to murder our child, do I know you at all, and how could you be so selfish?” Uju rose up too, angry to think she had done this for him; she had been going through the nightmares for this. Yes, she had aborted the baby, thinking that it was a secret she would keep to her grave. After all countless women did it, even so called Christians, who condemned the act in others, but conveniently found excuses when found in the same shoes. She had thought it chivalrous of her to spare him the burden of sharing the guilt with her, and he was asking who gave her the right. “So is this about getting permission from you?”, She had barely landed the statement, when he pounced on her, shaking her so vigorously as though to shake folly out of her. “Permission, permission, are you kidding me, you committed murder and you think it’s about asking for permission, what are you, a heartless beast, your own child, you are a Christian for crying out loud!” He left her suddenly and she fell backwards against the sofa. She felt a sharp pain run through her spine at the impact, but she was only too glad to be free of his vise-like grip; each word, with accompanying higher intensity had left her scared he would move his hands from her arms to her neck and squeeze the life of her, while she gasped for breath, but he would not notice until she was limp and long gone. Her hands went unconsciously to her neck and she began to cry as she wondered if that was how her baby had struggled for life under the scalpel of the butcherer.

It served her right, hadn’t she seen in Nigerian movies how aborted children came back to haunt their mothers, why had she always boiled it down to the over-imaginative mind of the writer or superstitious tales of  grandmothers trying to encourage over-population in Africa?

“Do stop those crocodile tears of yours, even Judas wept after betraying Jesus. How did you even get pregnant in the first place, were you not on pills? He asked as he looked at her with absolute disgust and contempt. She replied in between tears, “I was, it probably failed or something”. Her voice trailed away as Olumide sneered. “Sure it failed or you were careless with your dosage?”

She could not bear the contempt in his eyes and voice anymore. Why do women always bear the brunt of every bad situation, why was she always at fault, she definitely didn’t impregnate herself. She sat up, and asked him coldly, “is this all my fault, why didn’t you opt for vasectomy when you knew you didn’t want kids any more, why should the woman be responsible every time for family planning? If you truly intended to be faithful to me, why didn’t you simply do something about it yourself? By now, her voice was heated up and the bitterness she had piled up since Sophie’s birth came gushing out like a burst dam. “Not interested in boys, not interested in children”, her hands making the quote sign in the air while mimicking his voice hysterically, why did you not shut off the tap”, pointing at the direction of his crotch. It’s always Uju, always Uju, Uju this, Uju that, why did you agree to try again for a boy the last time, if you were so averse to the idea of a son?! She stopped abruptly as she saw a rapid change in his look. She had hit a raw nerve and struck below the belt. He moved slowly towards her, his fist clenched, his face twisted in a fixed distorted look full of hatred when a car’s horn sounded at the gate. He looked briefly at the window without stopping, while her gaze was riveted on his every move. This was her opportunity to escape whatever was about to happen; it definitely didn’t look good, but she couldn’t move. She seemed stuck to the chair, then the horn came to her rescue. It was long and persistent this time… The horn… Uju snapped out of her pensive preoccupation. She was seated at the dining table, where she had paused to rest after setting the table for her husband, she was going to tell him today…

“Mummy, mummy, daddy is back”?? Ife was tugging at her; the horn had obviously woken her up from her nap after school. The horn sounded again, this time short and impatient. She stood up quickly and hurried to the door, her heart beating fast.

Ololade Okedare has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.

Ali Baba, Gbenga Adeyinka 1 Crack Joke On Buhari, #DasukiGate

Watch as Ali Baba abd Gbenga Adeyinka the First crack jokes with the federal government's attempt to recover huge sums of money allegedly distributed by the former National Security Adviser, Col. Dasuki. This took place during the president's recent visit to Ogun State where he commissioned some projects executed by the administration of Governor Ibikunle Amosun.

Download "My Destiny" by Omoh G.

Download "My Destiny" by Omoh G.