How could I ever forget the first time I ever laid eyes on you, so much beauty, so much love, so much passion, covered, locked up and sealed in such a little deceptive container.  

Everyone calls you “iron lady”, they say you are hard to get, every guy that has ever tried has also failed. They say one cold look from you could send  even the toughest of men running home to their mother with their tails between their legs and tears trickling down their faces. I too can testify of this, I know this is true because it almost happened to me too. 

Do you remember the first time we spoke ? Well, I did all the talking and you didn’t even listen. You rolled your eyes in all directions, you hissed at me, you looked at me with a piercing stare like I was a jobless overly infatuated teenage boy with nothing better to do than to run around chasing things he can’t handle, like dogs chase after cars they can’t drive. Maybe this was why they said your heart is made of steel. 


Do you remember the question you once asked me? That day you got fed up with my undying love for you and you screamed at the top of your lungs for me to leave you alone. 
Chioma, do you remember the question you asked me? I could never forget and even though you spoke once, I listen twice. 
Why won’t you leave me the hell alone? What do you see in me? Why won’t you leave me alone, can’t you see I’m bad for you? Like sugar in the tea of a diabetic old man, I  would spoil you with this sweetness but at the end of the day  leave you bitter and just when you think that’s the worst that could happen, then it gets worse. What do you see in me, don’t you know that I could  be the death of you ?

These were your exact words. 

Do you remember how I gave the same answer to the one thousand and one questions you asked?? How could I ever forget the look on your face when I told you that all these I do for love. Because I love you. How could I ever forget the look you had on your face, even if it lasted for just five seconds, it was a rare mixture of confusion and surprise and a touch of whatever stands between love and pity. It was the first time I ever saw a ray of light travelling through your dark eyes. The first time I saw you glow.


They say you are tough, they say you are hard to get but this love I have for you is patient, undying and unending. I will wait for you. 

Chioma, even if it takes you two days or two hundred years to see my love for you, whether  tomorrow or next ten years, Chioma I would wait for you, I would wait. 
#Late Night Muse. 

#His_Storyteller.  #Stay Inspired. 


Give Give Give.. 

I remember when my younger sister, Destee, was done with secondary school. We had this pile of books, more than three sacks full. 
Mother was confused, she didn’t know what to do with them especially since Destee was the last born and it seems like we wouldn’t be needing it anymore.
Mother hates wastage, whenever she buys something she feels like we can’t finish, she would share it in half, give one part to the old women in our street and keep the other half at home. As a result of this, she did get a lot of prayers, I mean If prayers were rain drops, our house would have been Noah’s ark. These old women prayed for her like never before.
Father is a cheerful giver too. Whenever he travels back from work, he would buy tons of stuff, more than we could eat just so he could distribute it to kids. He loves the joy it brings.  
But I deviate. 
So back to my story. You see, mother searched for kids who would need those books and text books but she couldn’t find any. She asked questions, “ask your friends and tell them to ask their friends and their friends friends. These books shouldn’t go to waste ” she said but still couldn’t find any. 
Soon, these books became breeding grounds for mosquitoes, rat feasted on them, torn pieces of paper everywhere till finally, mother had no other option than to burn them. I could tell she didn’t want to. The little things we take for granted, she knew were the same things that someone was probably praying for. 
So, why this story ?
Well, I currently have some kids who are in need of some things that are probably wasting somewhere in your house and I thought maybe it would interest you to know that those same things are the prayer requests of some kids.  I have kids who need, 
. School bags 

. Sandals

. White socks

. Uniforms 

. Registration fees

. Exercise books and anything needed to resume school with. 
These things don’t have to be new, these kids would be more than happy to have anything that is good enough to be used.  
Together, let’s make the world a better place one smile at a time.. 
#message me for more information. 

#His_Storyteller. #Stay Inspired.


​Hi there, my name is Hope. 
Before you say anything, let me just say that I know what you are thinking, I have seen the way you look at me, sometimes with pity and other times with disgust. Like I’m some sort of cosmic mistake. 
I have seen how you behave whenever I come close to you to ask for a little spare  change just so I can get something to eat. 
I have seen how you jerk back in disgust whenever I try to touch you and how you rub your hands back and forth against your own clothes whenever I eventually succeed in touching you, like I’m some kind of deadly disease or poison and although you still leave a little change or two in my deep brown bowl, I can tell from the look in your eyes that this thing you have for me, is deeper than pity. It’s way worse than that. 
Well, I just wanted you to know that I didn’t ask for this life. You see, unlike you I wasn’t born by choice, I was born by force. Mother says I was a product of an ugly rape incident she had many years ago.
 You should see the look in her eyes whenever she looks at me. Although she says it’s not my fault but you can always feel the chill from the cold stare she gives me everytime I do something good or bad or even do nothing at all. You should also see the way she pounces on me like Tom pounces on Jerry leaving these horrible scars on my back as a constant reminder of every single mistake that I have ever made. 
And even though God forgives, I don’t really think that mother does, why do I still feel like these scars wouldn’t be the last that I would have?? 
Although mother says she loves me, but I can tell that she is lying. And just like the “drink responsibly” advice at the end of an alcohol commercial, I don’t think she means them, and even when I try to believe them, my heart still whispers to me not to trust them, you should hear how he describes them. To me, her words are nothing but…well..words. Sweet empty words. Even when she tries to hide them, like a stubborn stain, I can still see the deception hidden inside. 
I mean, I have really tried to trust them but the harder I try to trust, the louder I hear my heart screaming, “don’t go get me broken twice “. I’ve tried. 
Do I really deserve this?? Is this all my fault?? Well, maybe it is, of all the things in the universe that I could be, why did I have to be the sperm that won? So, yes, maybe I do deserve this. 
Hi there, I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be born into this dark cruel and confused world. That  I was perfectly happy in the world from which I came. 
You see, I come from a place that is nothing like this one, a place filled with laughter, with hope and joy. I come from a place with ever green grasses and clear blue skies. A place where trees don’t die and children don’t have to cry. A place where prayers are answered right from the heart because that is where God resides. 
I know you may not believe me but the truth is I never asked for your world because back where I come from, nights and mornings are both beautiful in their own way and we don’t even have to wait for the morning so joy could come because weeping doesn’t exist in the first place.
A world where,  children don’t ever have to cry because no child was made to suffer. No child ever had reasons to beg, or to run around with tiny rickety stricken legs, big hungry bellies and tired eyes just to stretch big bowls at strangers who would in turn  claim that they have no change to spare. 
I come from a perfect place, where fireflies are little fairies and angels don’t lie or trick you with sticks of sweet just to molest, rape and abuse you. A world where all kids go to heaven.. 
So no, I didn’t ask for this life, before I came here, my life was already perfect but still I’m hopeful though, I won’t give in, I won’t give up because God told me about you. 
He told me that you would try to break me, try to tear me down and keep me there. But He gave me a promise though, He said that although the journey would be tough but if I choose to hold unto Him tight and never let go, He said my landing would be safe. 
So the next time you see me, don’t pity me because I’m hopeful that although the night be dark, Joy always comes with the morning. 

#Letters from a broken heart.
 #His_Storyteller. #Stay Inspired.

The Real Me

This is not my real face. It’s been buried somewhere between the make up and the mobile application I use to make me look beautiful. Come on, if you look closely, you would see that my scars are gone along side with the wrinkles and pimpos and that small region on my cheek where just like oil and water, a thick spot of black touches my fair skin but they never mix. 
And although, people say I’m one of a kind and these imperfections are really what makes me perfect but I guess I never really listen. So instead of embracing the real me, I’d rather bury it up like a dead boy six feet underneath the ground using these “beauty skin tuning creams” as the sand and these beauty apps as the shovels while my social media time liner watch as spectators and applaud me. 
Ignorant of the fact that they too are witness to this murder scene, because each and every one of them saw the death of the real me and did nothing but cheer. 
The irony, for every new thing I change about me, and for every part of me that dies, I get one more like and if you think that this is bad, just look at how many likes I have had.. 
“I mean, if this is really as bad as you say, why does the media love me this much?? ” but this is just a line I tell myself as I drown out the last bit of sanity left inside. 
And this, this is not my real character. I know I come here acting all neat, quiet and perfect on the outside but I bet you do not know of the racket going on, in my inside. 
I bet you didn’t know that I’ve got a demon running loose in my mind, screaming and cursing and shouting, constantly setting my thoughts ablaze but the next time you see me, I would simply put on a fake smile and tell you that everything is fine, even when I’m crying inside. But I guess that’s all part of the irony of life. So the next time you hurt me and I smile or life throws a hard punch at me and I wave it off like raindrops on my skin, know that on my inside is a voice that cries out in pain because this is not how I really feel. 
This is not the real me. Young girls envy me, mothers advice their daughters to be more like me and fathers tell their son to find a bride that looks and behaves just like me but if only there was an X-ray that displays more than just your body but your characters and thoughts and soul, maybe you would pray differently. 
I’m cursed with this life of pretence. I pretend that I am not pretending about something I am actually pretending about. It’s exhausting. 
I wish I could tell you not to envy me. To find your own true beauty. I wish I could tell the mothers to teach their daughters that true beauty lies on the inside and tell the fathers to tell their sons that beauty truly lies in the eyes of the beholder. I wish I could tell you that God made everyone from his or her own unique soil and that no two souls have the exact same purpose. I wish you could look beneath my beautiful and see the confused little girl buried inside. 
I wish someone had told me earlier the things I tell you now. Maybe I would not need all these to bring out the true beauty buried inside. Maybe then, you all would have had the privilege of meeting the real me because this, this is not real. 

#Who are you?? Are you really you?? 
#No matter who you are or how you look. You are unique, you are beautiful, you were made in the image and likeness of God. 
Darling, You Are Perfect.
#His_Storyteller.  #Stay Inspired

Will I ever see you again?? I thought you said that you will never leave?? I thought you promised to fight with me till the very end??
You lied to me. When will I see you again?? 
Just last night you told me that you loved me, that our love was strong enough to battle all the odds of life. You said our love could light up even the thickest of darkness. That we could battle fate and win. I guess you were wrong. 
You promised to always be there for me.  For better and for worse, that was our vow.  I said till death do us part but you told me that death can wait, that for now, let us live first. You said my love was all the air you needed to survive. But it seems my love wasn’t strong enough, I mean what good is oxygen if you can’t even breathe under water..
The last night we shared, we spent it  locking hands, whispering sweet words meant for our ears alone. We counted the stars and you told me what you thought about heaven. “Fireflies are little angels and all kids go to heaven ” these were your thoughts. I told you they were silly but you laughed it off, kissed my lips and whispered into my ears, eternity will tell, you said. 
Eternity is such a long time away. You left too soon. Don’t you know that heaven can wait, I needed you more. You promised me that our honeymoon would last forever, it didn’t even last for two days. I said you were an angel but you should have known that heaven can wait… 
“Water has no enemies ” who ever said this clearly has no idea of what  flood can do to people, it snatched you from me. One minute we were in our own little castle and the next minute I was floating in a sea. It was Titanic all over again.
I should have drowned with you, they saved me but couldn’t save you. If only they knew that my heart beats to the rhythm of you. Without you, I wouldn’t survive much longer. .
You said my love was all the air you needed to survive. But what good is oxygen if you can’t even breathe under water.. 

#dedicated to all those affected by the flood. I pray you find strength and hope, in a time such as this.. 

#His_Storyteller.  #Stay Inspired. 

A Visit To The Church 

I used to visit the church as a routine. There was once a time when I only went to church just to avoid the questions of some “well wishers ” and to prove to self righteous folks that I was not going to be the first to backslide and fall. 
I remember dragging my feet back from church every Sunday afternoon with my Bible under my arms and a jotter full of letters, letters that I would never read. 
Back then, my mind was like an empty room filled with echoes of questions and more questions as these questions collide with one another in my head, leaving me even more confused than I was before. And every Sunday just seem to make things worse. Soon, I became even more confused than a hungry rabbit lost in a room full of carrots. 
So, yes I had a lot of reasons to wonder.
At first, I wondered why it was called a church. Everyone said that it was a hospital for the broken hearted, a place filled with love and insight but whenever I walked in there, all I saw was judgmental eyes, backbiting mouths and harsh heartbreaking words coming from the mouth of people pretending to be something they were not. So yes, I wondered if this was even the church  that the apostles and even Jesus talked about. 
I used to wonder, used to, until I met him. 
Him, who was called the head of the  church. He showed me the real meaning of a Church. He taught me that the church was really a hospital for the broken and not just for perfect people. 
He taught me that just like our regular hospital, some people were responding to treatment while so others just needed a little more time. He showed me the true meaning of the word “church”. 
Soon, Sundays became as exciting as Christmas and visiting the church gave even more hope than the sunrise. 
My feet were no longer tired and my mind no longer wondered. He made every encounter precious and unforgettable. He taught me to look beyond the back biters and piercing judgemental eyes, to see Him and the unimaginable sacrifice He paid for me. To see His undying and unending love. 
He taught me how to love, to love my neighbors, love myself, love my enemies and more importantly to love the church. 
He took my life and made it His. Just like King David, He made me excited about every single visit to the church. He showed me that indeed, He was the head of the church and no one else. 

#A visit to the Church. 

#His_Storyteller.  #Stay Inspired.

Why Do We Give?? 

​He had nothing to eat but was still willing to offer one of the sweet he was given to the photographer when he was asked.. 

So take a good look around you and you tell me, why do you give? 
The orphan boy by the side of the street searches day and night for something to eat. Some nights he sleeps under the cold, under tables and wraps himself with sack bags and dirty rags. And when the night is silent, he looks to the heavens and prays, with his stomach growling in hunger, he prays to the God who lives in the skies. 
Prayers from an empty stomach.  He prays the prayer of an hungry child. 
He prays for his father, even though he had never met him and although he doesn’t know why but mummy said he ran away and left them, the day he discovered that she was pregnant. But still he prays every night for him. 
He prays for father to still be alive, he prays for father to grow wealthy, he prays for him to stay healthy but most importantly, he prays for the day he would return to take back the son he once abandoned, to take him away from this earthly hell and save him from this  slow and painful death.
He also prays for mom too. And even though she is dead now, she was the only family he ever had and ever knew. Although they had nothing, she had given him all the nothings she had. She starved just to watch him eat and cried whenever she saw him smile, she called them tears of joy. 
So, yes he prays for her. Whenever the night comes, whenever the stars come out to listen and whenever the moon dares to visit, he prays. 
He prays she makes it to heaven. He prays she never suffers again. He prays that God makes her smile and she never ever has a reason to cry. 
But above all, he prays that she doesn’t spend her whole day watching him suffer and that she doesn’t spend her entire night, watching over him because then she would see that each and every night, he sleeps at that same corner that they both slept and when the night becomes  cold , he searches for her warm arms that she usually wraps around him and when he can’t sleep he whistles to himself her favourite lullaby, the same ones she once used to rock him to sleep.  He prays her eyes are covered to all these because these would surely make her cry. 
Finally, he prays for all the other children like him. He prays that they don’t loose hope. He prays for them to be safe, safe from the hands of blood thirsty men that roams the street at night, safe from the fast moving cars that they have to chase during the day just to sell a thing or two, safe from the malaria causing mosquito that comes to feast on them while they sleep and from the scorching sun that shine on them during the day. 
They are just like him, big empty bellies, head the size of their begging bowls and thin curvy rickety legs. He prays that this malnutrition doesn’t kill them and that even though they never get to drink clean water, that cholera be far from them.
Above all, he prays that no child ever gets to live this way. He prays that every child born should have a loving father, a caring mother and a cozy home. 
He prays for that no child should ever be born by mistake and that every child ever born into this world should  be born by choice and not by force… 
To the God of the skies, this is what he prays. 
So dear reader, the next time you see a starving child, a tired old woman or a disabled young man, ask yourself this question, “why shouldn’t I give?? ”
#for whosoever giveth to the poor, giveth unto God 

#Whatsoever you do to the least of these, ye do also to me. 

#Why Do We Give? 

#His_Storyteller. #Stay Inspired. 

The Travel Fever

Mehn, sometimes all I just want to do is pack up my bags and travel. 

To where? I do not even know. 

I just want to see the world for the beauty that it is. 

To sleep under the stars (that is if mosquitoes would let me) 

To take nothing but pictures, 

To leave nothing but footprints and

To kill nothing but time. 

I just want to listen to the harmony  of this Uni (one) – Verse (song)  . 

To hear the chirping songs of birds in the Amazon, 

To bask in the quietness of the Sahara desert, 

To dive into the vast oceans and let it’s wave caress my skin (even though I still don’t know how to swim) 
I want to travel for an adventure,

I want to travel to forget, to remember and to create,  

To forget my pains and celebrate my victories. 

Travel to create and find love, love for nature, love for life and yes if possible find a bride (winks) 

To see the world through someone else’s eyes, 

To dance to the distorted rhythm of an Indian song, 

To lie face up on a Miami Beach, 

To take a swing off the edge of the world, 

To spend the night at the underwater hotel in Dubai and sleep in a glass Igloo in Finland. 

Mehn, sometimes I just wish I could wake up one morning, pack up my bags and travel around the world.  
#The travel fever 


#Stay Inspired.

Where Does Inspiration Come From 

​Just when I thought that there were no more inspirations left in the world, I come to your wall and get drowned in your thoughts. 
Your words are even more beautiful than than watching the sun set and the things you say calms the body, soul and nerves like the silence of the cool midnight quiet. 
For once I want to see through your eyes, to know how you manage to get by. I mean I don’t think I have ever seen you cry  and even when your eyes don’t look too dry, you’d simply smile and act like everything is alright.  
For once I want to hear through your ears, to hear the same soothing words you hear. Those same words that keeps you calm and even when the world seems to be turning upside down, all you see is a new way to view life. 
Obim, tell me, how do you manage to stay inspired? It seems like everyone lost their inner child to the noise and furry of life while growing up but you, you manage to keep yours protected and safe. And now you let her run wild. 
Obim, please tell me, how do you manage to stay inspired? Because just like the blue evening moon, your words become more beautiful every night. Even your smile twinkles like the stars and brightens up the night.. 
Obim, please answer me, where does your inspiration come from because even when everywhere goes dark and people complain of the night, you always find a way to hold on to your faith, I hear you whisper into the air that joy comes after the night. 
I guess whenever I run out of inspiration, I would just look at you. 

#Where does inspiration come from


#Stay Inspired.  

The Picture Series. 

Picture B. 

It all started when he told her that he loved her. He whispered sweet words into her ears and she fell for them, for him.  He said he would rather die than live without her. His words were assuring, his love felt so real, she could feel it, it was as certain as  the morning sun. To her, he was an angel. She was in heaven and she just couldn’t help but have her head in the clouds. 

Soon time started to go by and this angel wasn’t so angelic anymore. Her heaven was getting hotter and hotter, like the burning sun of the Sahara Desert. 
First, it all started with the hot slap he gave to her during an heated argument they had. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She saw the look in his eyes, it was as though she stared the devil in the face. Suddenly it dawn on her, her angel was not so angelic anymore and even if he was, he definitely was a fallen one and what she thought was heaven was nothing but  cloudy skies. 
He saw the look in her eyes, it was as if he knew what ran through her mind. He quickly apologized. 
“It was the work of the devil, it would never happen again, I swear. Baby you are my all, if you leave me, I would die. I would kill myself, take poison, hang a rope around my neck. Baby you are my air, without you I would suffocate and die” these were the words he said. 
Red roses and chocolates was what followed next, the angel had put on his white robe once again. Although she knew that this was not the last time she would see this demon escape from hell, but what was she supposed to do?? He said he would die without her, he called her his air and more importantly, she was two months pregnant already. 
Black eyes, bruised skin and  the sound of her own sob soon became her lullaby. More red roses and brown chocolate followed until red became her worst colour and the night, her worse nightmare. She was trapped. Why was heaven suddenly so hot and since when do angels now wear black?? 
#Picture Story Series. #Picture B#and then there were three. #His_Storyteller.  #Stay Inspired.