It’s getting more interesting.
My eyes were bloodshot, a far cry from what you would expect from a new bride. I stood up from the bed, stretched and went to the wardrobe to get my make up bag.
Subtlety is the key and I know that. No one expects a “just waking look” to show traces of makeup. So I applied a little foundation to conceal the bags under the eyes and a hint of black eye shadow to give a smoky look. I returned the kit to the wardrobe, placed myself carefully beside Jite. I paused for a minute to adjust some settings on the camera. Shutter sound and flashlight off, I placed my head on Jite’s chest and took the picture.
He didn’t rouse from sleep at all. I understood that he needed to sleep after the stressful day we had. I used the picture…
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FROM TUTORS/MENTORS TO STUDENTS
TIP 1:HOW ARE YOU DRESSED?
Is your school uniform neat and pleasing to the eyes?
It should look comfortable for you and the eyes of your audience too.
It should suit the occasion. Don’t feel shy to find out from your teacher or the organizers how others will be dressed. Will it be school uniform or formal/ informal dressing?
It is expected that general rules for students would make you avoid ,make-up,special hair-do and glittery ornaments. The simpler and neater the better!
TIP 2:HOW IS YOUR POSTURE?
Smile, look friendly, comfortable, straight and poised.
Don’t swing, shift or jump
Don’t lean forward / backwards, or put your weight on podium.
Body in attention, hands and feet at ease is the general idea.
TIP 3:HOW ARE YOUR GESTURES?
Make your hands free and mobile but not too much.
Make a habit of starting your speech with hands…
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Oh but they won’t let us marry their daughters. Those ones are sacred.
Let us marry your daughters, the rich men say
The ones whom the little mound on their chest grow bigger day by day
We see them swing their beads-laden waist as they move in groups on their way to the stream,
Let us marry your daughters and you shall have pipe-borne water as you have always dreamed
Corrugated roofs over your heads, heads of cattle in your fields, we shall supply
All we ask is the hands of your girl-children to be our bride
Let us marry your daughters, the Senators say
Those ones we have kept out of school by our greed, our wives let them be
We have money to spend on their every need,
The best hospitals for their care, the most dedicated of maids at their behest
No more lack of food, we promise to treat them well
All we require is their juvenile bodies…
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Thousands of innocent lives have been lost,
Obviously still not enough to cover the cost.
The reaper gets what he wants,
And if he doesn’t his image haunts.
The scum of the country are left to
While we keep living
in an ignorant bubble.
Not wanting to believe the things we hear,
But when crime is up all we do is yell here and there.
We talk with all our strength and anger
but actions we never take,
Hoping one realizes all the words we spew are fake.
But life moves on…
Again the innocent shall suffer,
The rich will get richer,
But for the poor it just gets tougher.
Society is in shambles, we continue to go down hill,
But the truth shall be ignored,
Wiped from our mind with the ingestion of a distraction.
For how long will this go on?
For how long will the…
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Fighting the Good Fight
Mass hysteria is a wonderful thing to experience in a lifetime. That overwhelming sense of being a part of a larger emotion is one of the traits that particularize the human as a social animal. You will find it in prayer grounds, election rallies, football matches and popular protests. I have been a consistent partaker of that last category, considering myself a “barricade mounter” of sorts. However, sometimes, it is necessary to step back from the alluring hysteria and examine an issue with a dispassionately critical perspective, and maybe even—protest against the protests, not because the intentions are wrong, but because the direction is incorrect. The current problem and its attendant emotions is one of such incorrect directions.
The Hue and Cry
I have assumed that, at the time you are reading this, you are acquainted with the current social palaver manifesting in the form of…
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With emotions flaring and all eyes red from protracted weeping, Hajia Halimat let go off Sefia as the girl bride of a powerful ignorant and religiously bigoted politician packed her like a newly acquired luggage into his “merciless Benz” .
Sefia was a village belle. She had the traditional beauty, she was just twelve but very smart and more mature than her peers. Her curves and curvatures were distinct even in the flowing black gown she was wearing. The hijab covering her face did little to cover the beauty she was resonating. Her moves were majestic and most of the men in the village had already been using religious excuses to approach her parents for her hands in marriage.
Sefia’s father was a local farmer who was yet to balance his debt in the farmer’s cooperative society. He could not afford to send Sefia beyond primary school because in his…
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