Crooks In Suits

 

We "black monkeys" as the certain whites call Africans,  were taught to respect men in suits. For such men, as they say, are men of honour and integrity. Their vesture commands reverence and uplifts the banner of manhood.

But, far from being respectable and honourable, many men of suits, nowadays, appear to be highway robbers, intellectual imposters and despicable criminals of high standing positions. They only positivity about these fellows is their outfit. Their minds are decayed and infested with all kinds of schemes to dupe the simple and poor.

You might have thought in your ignorance, that suits were only a way of life, that responsible men were thus demanded to be appareled in their everyday activity, so as to make a difference between themselves and the vagabonds. Well, be disillusioned and enlightened. The reverse in true. The vagabonds are now dressed in suits while the honourable are in rags.

But, seeking to probe into the raison-d'etre of this disparity, you might ask "why"? The answer is simple. The poor have no money to suit themselves into suits though they work hard and serve the rich. Their salaries are comparable to a hobo's bomb, and they get them only under stringent, shady circumstances, if ever they do. But, turn to the men in suits, the crooks. They buy themselves iPads which they can't use, though their housemates lack sanitary pads. 

They ride luxuriously and speak loftily. And these are the men to respect and honour. They are the very disgrace of the suits they wear. Their lives compared to their academical achievements, is a regrettable topic-a discouragement to many a youth. For as it appears, school never did them any good though they be certified.

These men in suits are presidents, ministers, doctors, CEOs, and the other bourgeoisie bigots you know. They control everything and pretend to be servants. Nonetheless, they are those who through embezzlement, are slowly killing their countries and the youths. Though married, they cajole and ensnare young girls in their offices for a benefit of sin and regret. And all these crimes are perpetrated in suits. Oh the shame of it! These men in suits, though gentle on the outlook, are wolves in the inside.

How I pity these girls, these girls whose sole desire is to marry men in suits. For as they think, the latter are rich, gentle and responsible. Their disappointment will be great and their confusion immense.  Haven't you noticed that most fake prophets have a bending for such outfits? They can misinterpret every bible verse to their advantage, all in a bid to let you see how God would like His children to be "fresh". No doubt, they sell prayers, collect tithes and offerings of all nature (including weekends with people's wives). These men in suit! 

Kingsley NCHE

The Portrait of A Naggy Woman

The night time comes slowly, her legs drawing languishingly around the streets of her city. She is up till mid-night, waiting for her victim. The following lines are forceful and truthful of a naggy woman, a contentious and fearful lady, who gives hell on earth to men.

A naggy woman is one who gives neither peace nor rest to those around her. Constantly, she fights and makes a big deal about nothing and everything. Her ways are as doubtful as her Salvation. In your ignorance and simplicity, you might have thought, that all naggy women were singles, and that once given the title ''wife," a girl ceases to be offensive.

Experience tells us the contrary. Most women are naggy, especially when they get into relationships with men. They ever think of their comfort and security, and if circumstances speak the opposite, they soon begin to show you their real colours; purple, pink, red and black. You once thought they were 'white', badly mistaken fellow? Don't you see their make-ups?

Generally, single women aged twenty seven and above, are very coleric and unbearable. Their frustration springs from the word "spinster" to menopause. Every potential husband soon becomes their enemy, when they say "no" to their advances and caprices. They will call you names such as: "gay, homo, and not-man-enough", no matter how sanctimonious they seem.

Personally, I know no greater threat to a man's life than an old lady desperately in search of a latecoming marriage: step not on her toe, neither take her gifts nor pay her a visit: lest she rubs you of joy and zest. She knows every man in the neighborhood and in the group, only no man wants to know her. Imagine her bitterness!

Other married women have crossed bounds and are waxing hot in matrimonial homes. Their husbands would rather live on their roofs and in the wilderness, than spend thirty minutes of their day at home. No doubt, daddy is always at work and when he gets back, his belly is already full, for he ate at the restaurant. He doesn't trust mummy's food.

Usually, the naggy woman, in order to take vengeance on her husband, tends to refuse to perform her conjugal duties (ladies know what I mean). They say: "no money, no..." and even your sanctification can't handle that. If you know how to pray like a warrior, please do.

Have you met a young married man, constantly singing: "give me grace, Lord Jesus give me grace?", that fellow is often than not in trouble under a naggy woman. The only problem is that we never know how naggy a woman can be, until she misses marriage or hangs on you till marriage. They ever are nice during courtship, calming devising how to cut you like sheep.

To celibates, be godly,  wise and you shall avoid her. For those who are presently married to naggy women, remember your vows; for better and for worse. God help you, don't back out. She is bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh. Try to wash her...

Kingsly NCHE

Lettre d’un migrant

Chère Miriam,Ça fait trois longues années que j’ai quitté le bled, en partance pour un pays lointain, où, je pensais, couleraient le lait et le miel. Ici par contre, les jours passent et se ressemblent. C’est laid ! Tout me manque de l’autre côté ; nos souffrances, nos peines et nos causeries enflammées. Au fil du temps, je me rends compte que malgré tout le bien matériel que j’aie, je n’ai plus rien qui tienne, plus aucune personne qui soit véritablement mienne.

Près de toi, j’avais paix du cœur et tranquillité, tant tu savais comment me combler. Nos disputes les plus acharnées m’étaient après elles, de véritables moments de remise en question d’où me venaient d’idées d’amélioration et de progression. Tu étais pour moi la voix du Père lorsque par rebellion, j’avais muselé celle du Saint Esprit, la conscience meurtrie de revers. Hélas ! Je les ai perdus ; ces moments de reconstruction, mais aussi mes repères.

Ici, toutes les femmes n’en ont qu’après mon fric ; les plus humaines me considèrent pour mon physique.  Très peu m’aiment et c’est peu dire ! Je suis seul, car les hommes qu’autrefois j’eusse la bêtise d’appeler amis m’ont vite trahi, très vite ! L’arrogance du matériel et du pouvoir éphémère les a rendus arrogants et mercantiles. Adieu les principes ; tout est ici question d’intérêts et de réussites. Mais à quel prix ?

Chère Miriam, il t’est certainement venu en tête l’idée de mon célibat. Oui ! Célibataire je suis toujours, comme une fille qui n’a de mérite que son baccalauréat. Cependant, je cours. Après nos fiançailles rompues, je me suis promis de rester ainsi ou au pire de te revenir. Dans ce pays, j’avais pourtant pour un temps, essayé de m’affranchir : c’était après ma rencontre avec Fidelle. Quelle erreur ! Loin d’être fidèle, cette fille m’était une vipère. Je me suis séparé d’elle.

Chère Miriam, je t’aime toujours. Comment t’oublier ? Mes pensées sont dirigées vers toi tous les jours, quand bien même j’essaie de les refouler. Je ne reviendrai plus au bled. Cette vie n’est plus faite pour moi. Plus rien de me retient la-bas, sauf peut-être toi. Je sais que tu es demeurée célibataire à m’attendre. A présent, je te libère : marie-toi. Tu n’as rien à me rendre, hormis la joie d’une famille dans la foi et fière. Qu’il soit plus chrétien que moi, qu’il te rapproche mieux du Christ-Jésus que moi. 

Chère Miriam, marie-toi ! Je mourrai certainement dans ce pays lointain. Ne t’inquiète pas pour moi, j’irai retrouver Jésus-Christ pour boire de sa fontaine. Ce monde n’est pas fait pour moi, j'en suis certain. Adieu Miriam, adieu ma sœur…

Lord’s Favoured