Hello friends,

This easter week, I’ve been thinking a lot about Barabbas,  the guy who was released in exchange for Jesus’ crucifixion.
His name, Bar-abba means son of the father. He was similar to Jesus in that he was a rebel leader… like they accused Jesus. (Mark 15:5-15)
He was physically released from prison but was he released from the grips of hell?
What happened to him after his release? Well… a book idea is coming up in my mind to explore his life… the what ifs of his childhood and youthful life… hope it forms soon enough.


I feel obliged to let you in on why I have been offline for a while…
There was a new twist to the dimension of my life in the past one week so remarkable that I had to hold off all I have been working on the blog for a while. But the “Six weeks” blog series I promised last weekend is still in the works and my experience is getting more exciting… also my “Donut” book publishing is making progress. But I may not have the liberty to share details now.
Hope to be online soon enough.

Thanks. Happy Easter.

All or some

This is my journal entry from November 8 2013. I felt it will bless you today.

“You sat few feet away from the offering box and watched the rich guys gave large sums and a poor widow gave two coins. But when you commented, you praised the poor widow not because of what she gave, but the principle behind giving.

Now, I am like the rich guy. I only give you a bit of my strength, a bit of my resources, a fraction of my time, but what you want is all of my strength, all of my resources, all of my time!

Not to throw in a pocket of prayer here and there during the day, but to maintain a consciousness of the presence of the Holy Spirit always with me and to live in steady conversation with Him.

Not to supply some effort on God’s work but to give it all it takes until it is achieved; not to donate stipends to the course of the kingdom but to give all.

We received all, so we give all and it is when we give all that we continue to receive all.”

Hope you week has been great,


P.S.: Please do well to check the progress of my book at

A short story

Hello everyone,

I’m feeling blessed today… No, I’m actually blessed! God’s word have soothed my fears and given me directions and I am making much progress concerning my book, Donut. You can check how far I have gone here.

Today, I’m sharing with you a short story from my archives. Read and make inferences! Enjoy but remember it’s copyright to me!


I titled it  Abbadon.


THE SHRILL CRY OF THE ALARM WOKE ME. Or was it the sharp pain in my bones?

Whichever did, it made me stand up from bed. I scooped my sheets to one side and shifted the blinds above. Electricity was out but the rays of the mid-morning Vitamin D activating sun did a good job of lighting the room. As I got up from bed and stretched in front of the full length mirror, my cover clothes slithered down my body, revealing a chocolate complexioned muscular torso I was proud of.

It was 11:00am.

I bent over the dresser stool, picked up a vial and popped two red tablets into my mouth.

“Are you okay?”

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Sade walk in and lean on the threshold, wiping her hands with a napkin.

“I’m fine” I replied. And then winced.

You’re not.” She said and I felt the tension in her voice and then the closeness of her scent.

“Is it the pain again?” her hands touched me.

Still semi-prone over the stool beside the bed, I allowed her massage my back. I was beginning to feel the bone pains again. Probably from the stress from last night’s partying, I thought. But I had learned from the last episode of my crisis not to take water and painkillers for granted.

As if she knew my thoughts, she brought a glass of water near my temple which I took and emptied in one gulp.

Sade tapped on the eagle tattoo on my shoulder and smiled.

“You are an eagle – a fighter – be strong for me.” She kissed my shoulder and her lips lingered for a few seconds.

“Thanks” it was all my throbbing head allowed me to say.

She walked to the closet and brought out my yellow towel “Maybe a warm shower would help.”

I could not argue but sheepishly allowed her lead me into the bathroom. As I lathered soap, thoughts filled my mind. At twenty one I had all a young man dreams of – an apartment owned by my grandma which was near campus, a little Toyota sports car she bought me for my last birthday, and a girlfriend who loved me heads over heels. What more could I ask?

Save this pain I had grown to recognize as my seasonal gift since my mom walked out of my dad. The doctor says I have this condition that predisposes me to bone pains when there is a stressful situation in my body. I didn’t care what he called it, but I knew the cause – mom. And I hated her for it. As the water skirted the curves of my body, I felt some soothing – the painkillers had started to act.

Sade was rummaging through some drawers when I emerged fifteen minutes later, with a towel draped around my waist.

“Mom called.” She said immediately.

“Oh. She did?”

“What’s the problem? She just asked after you.” She could read my feigned concern.

I just rolled his eyes. The last person I wanted to hear of now was my mom. I don’t even know why I called her mom – especially whenever the pains come.

“Yeah she did. She asked if you were taking your medications and enough water…” her voice trailed off.

“Oh, really. Like she cares.”

I sat on the bed and rubbed hair cream over my well-shaped afro and blurted, “if she cared, she wouldn’t have walked out on dad like she did. She should have thought about me – my condition.”

She sighed. Maybe she could feel the pain behind my words, or she just plain cared, I don’t know and I couldn’t tell, because she just said, “I understand.” She stroked my chin as she talked. “You told me your dad could drink and beat like no-one-else. Maybe she was fed up.”

“Oh…so you’re giving her excuses. Huh?”

“No. I’m sorry” Sade handed me a pair of my shorts and a sunlight shirt, which I started to wear.

“Ahem, she also talked about grandma.”

“What did she say?” My eyes widened and I stopped buttoning my shirt and faced her. Hope Grandma is fine. I thought. But she heard.

“I’m afraid no, she’s in the hospital. ’said she slumped yesterday.” Like a flash, I picked up my iphone and dialled my mother.

The call went through after a ring.

A man said Hello. It was John, mom’s new husband. His hoarse voice gave him away.

“James speaking, is mom there?” I said without greeting him.

“She’s in the kitchen, if you would just hold, I could get her.”

“Please do.” I was irritated by him too – for marrying my mom after she walked out of the house ten years earlier, claiming that my dad was too dangerous to live with. But I knew she had a few boyfriends back then too. So she had no right to accuse my dad of drinking. He was a long distance driver – so what do you expect? She left me with the man when he insisted he wanted to have his son with him and I was bitter for that.

Mom’s voice jerked me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, son. How are –”

“What happened to grandma? Where’s she?”

“She had a stroke again, but seems this time, it’s more serious. She’s in Vine Hospital.”  The tone of her voice suggested that she’d either been crying or was about to. But I didn’t care.

“She wants to see you, as soon as you can make out time to come.” She said as I contemplated my buttons.

“I’ll see – ”

“She might not be here for long anymore. You should come quick.” Clara said.

“Okay, I’ll catch the next flight to Abuja.” I hung up without saying goodbye – and before she could say hers.

I didn’t need it.




I replaced the phone receiver and sighed. John noticed and came closer. He held my shoulders with both hands and planted a kiss on my forehead. “No worries. It’s not your fault.” He said.

“You don’t understand.” I shrugged off his hand.

“This is my son. He hates me!”

He took me closer in his arms as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Well, I hope one day, we settle our scores.”

C’est fini!

Again check up on Donut here.