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Nothing could ever dim from my memory the calmness of that cool afternoon. It was right after my second lesson when my Uncle Frank came to whisk me from boarding school.
“Oroife, Your uncle is here to see you”. My teacher; Miss Okere called.
With a huge smile spreading across my face, I popped out of my seat in my timberland boots and walked out like I was about to miss my flight. Miss Okere gazed after me with sad eyes but I was too over the moon to notice.

When I got out, My Uncle Frank was standing by his wife; my favourite aunt.  I ran as fast as my legs would let, to give her a bear hug. That was when I noticed that they had come with a Soldier escort. My innocent mind was too lost in excitement to worry about the soldier. I jumped into the car, and in seconds my aunt was feeding me with as many cookies and candies that my body would allow. I ate so much that I slept off; forgetting to ask why I was taken home unexpectedly.
I woke up to the cry of a baby. I was heading to my aunt’s room to ask whose baby that was when I saw a number of people in the living room, crying and shaking their heads.
 *Did they find a baby in a dumpster? *

I thought, as I went to find my aunt. She was in the kitchen making tea.

“Aunty what’s happening?” I asked

“Oh you are awake.”

“Yes. The cry of the baby woke me up” I said twisting my face in displeasure.

“Sorry dear. Babies can be loud.” she smiled sadly then asked  “do you want some tea?”

“No thank you ma. So whose baby is crying?” she stayed quiet as if she was giving my question a moment of silence, then she spoke

“That’s your brother”. My eyes lit up again
“Mummy is back?” I squealed and began to run out. She pulled me back gently

“Your mummy is not really back.”  I looked at her, my mind lost in a sea of confusion.  “Your dad went to get your mum and new baby brother from the Airport” she looked at me forlornly before saying her next words “they had a fatal accident. Miraculously, your baby brother survived”.

My innocent mind couldn’t grasp the idea that my beautiful mum was gone, I started to shiver then opened my mouth to let out a primal scream. My drew me close, holding me in her arms as if that would make things better.
I never got over my parents death but I learnt to live with their absence.

I christened my brother Ifeobi (love of parents). Very poetic; I know. I grew up loving my brother so much that I was convinced he was the reason I still had breath in my lungs. I felt like he was a message from our parents. Their one final gift to me before they left the land of mortals.

* * *

Right now, I’m in the United States of America because….Do I really want to write about this? Well, I’ve heard that writing takes some load off so here I go…

After my parents death, I spent so many nights soaking my pillow with hot tears. On those nights my aunt would come in and wrap me in her warm arms.

But this one night, she wasn’t there to offer the warmth of her comfort.  She was away on Pilgrimage to Jerusalem and this is how my horror began.
Uncle Frank chose to step into her shoes that night’ offering me faux warmth and comfort but the moment I began to doze off, I felt his hands in my underpants and I knew that was the last time I’d feel my innocence.  I was only 13 but that night became the first of many, I wept like I
had lost my life. My clothes were drenched in tears, I forgot I was bleeding. My eyes felt like a tumor. I could only breathe with my heart, it needed air.  I had nowhere to go. He was all the family I knew. He always seemed helpless whenever he came to me. I  couldn’t tell aunty; I didn’t want anything to jeopardize my her marriage so I kept mum. Cold days and
colder nights rolled by and I knew I was losing a part of me, my sanity.

And  although my parents christened me  Oroife (the thing about love) because they had me  long before they got married and they could foresee what a beautiful young woman I would be, I changed my name to Charlotte,  something easier for my American friends. Even with my parents long gone, I have everything any young girl can ever want, lovely clothes, good shoes, access to money. They left enough wealth to last me and my brother a lifetime and I’m glad Uncle never kept it from us. But all these could never repair my damaged emotions.

I’ve met a few friends here in the states but I miss Ifeobi so much, I hardly comb my hair. I’m leading my class in school as a law student. It’s where I pump all my energy. A discipline I chose because one day, I’ll reveal who Uncle Frank truly is, and I will persecute him.

My Baby brother will also become a soldier, and I’ll make sure he wields the gun that snuffs life out of my uncle at his execution. Perfect! Isn’t it?
I won’t ever get married, Uncle Frank ruined any form of attachment for me and I hope my brother saves himself from a world of hurt and doesn’t get married either. The only love that exists in the entire world is the one between me and Oroife; every other love is claptrap.
Oh I must tell you, I have a neighbour, I know loves me; He has never said hello but I know he wants to. I see it in his eyes. I have written all about him here (

I’m calling the police; I just left my neighbour in a pool of blood.  Help! I don’t know what’s wrong with him.

By Oyindamola @TheTailor and Seyi @sunkit1



They were in love; the universe had drawn them together like magnet to steel. Kate was happy with fate for this true match. All her life, she had never known what Love really was; her mind had never been able to grasp its possibilities until she met Danny.

That night, their first night together, the pleasure she felt when his lips met hers was supernal. The feel of his skin against hers made her heart melt like ice on water.  He felt so good between her legs; she was convinced it was love. Best of all, she did not have her strange longings when he made love to her.

Her dopamine brainstorm was utterly satisfactory when they both reached great height and came back to earth, and she did not doubt his words when he collapsed on her and said

“I love you”.

The next morning, the smell of waffles…

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Hi Readers,

This is an entry by a friend. She read the purges on my blog and sent something in. I hope you feel this pierce your soul like it did mine.


There’s so much words hidden in the silence.. With every breath, every sigh, so much to say.. Too many secrets hidden behind those pretty eyes… Let out the purge. It’s about to quench your soul…

Tell them about the pain inside, they never will understand. They are used to judging, jumping into conclusions like they have an idea what it means to be you. Tell them about your little secret(s), maybe, just maybe it’ll lighten your heart and give them room to understand.

I did it. I killed him. And I feel no sense of remorse for my actions. I was a child of eight, and I loved uncle Pete. He said he was mom’s brother, little did I know that he was one of her numerous quickies. Ice cream! Oh how I loved him for that. His little way of melting my heart with every taste of the sweet thing. Uncle, what is that? Stop, mom says I should cover up when strangers are around. “My sweet darling, you’re growing up so fast. I remember when I could lift you up with one finger and toss you around…” (Laughing) oh uncle.. You really could do that? “Yes of course.. Come’re let me show you little thing..” Uncle stop! Uncle.. Uncle.. Aaahhhhh!!! And that was it.. Life drifting away.. Light fading from my very eyes.. Uncle dear uncle…

“Don’t you dare tell your mother”, he said. Night after night I was left to bear the pain, oh how much it hurt. “It’ll get better”, he would say. Little did I know that I was being molested and that the pain would hurt me for life.. Life? Is this life? I am like a walking corpse, because 15 years down the line, I’m yet to know what it means to live. Dear uncle gets uglier everyday. And pretty me is bared from making any friends let alone male friends. Male friends.. I hate their guts. I’ve even grown to hate my brother. Maybe he’ll be like the devil I know someday, who knows…

As I watch him breath his last, I feel within me the deepest sense of satisfaction. He deserves it. I’ve waited so long for this. How did he get to find me? I left for school, leaving no trace behind. How did he hack me down? the devil… “Hey darl.. Missed me?” Hell yeah! I did.. Come on in.. He felt so at home, sitting on my couch, sipping my wine.. Technically, he’s here to continue from where he last left off.. But I’m not the same anymore. He can’t win this time. “Come here, baby, sit on uncle’s laps… I’ve missed you, you know. But did you think I’d not find you? I’ve got my eyes on you girl. Anyway, I forgive you. Gimme a kiss…” Here we go again.. Daisy.. The bottle.. Do it! (Scream… Silence…) Dear uncle, this is for 15 useless years of my life.. Rot in hell…

Tell them about the person you’ve become, how little you think of life, how you’ve had to take care of your own life because people who own the responsibility have left you to your fate.. How you’ve had to run for your life, because the whole world has come crumbling down.. Life is worthless.. My heart is heavy.. Nothing’s real. It’s all a farce. I’m ready to walk in my own shadows, that way, none cares about my existence.. But watch your back.! I’ll come into your life like thick black smoke, and disappear like the mist, leaving a lasting impression, one you will never forget if you live to tell your story.

I never asked for this… But everyone must pay!

This is her purge, not mine… Remember, There’s so much words hidden in my silence.. With every breath, every sigh, so much to say.. Too many secrets hidden behind my pretty eyes… Letting out my purge will take more than just the tap of my fingers on a key pad.. Try harder!

by: Emrysmilla (Voices)… Silence…

she blogs at and she is @emrysmilla202 on twitter

yours truly @sunkit1 on twitter


Every evening at 6:30, I leave the darkness of my room. I go to my windowpane and stare at Allen. His building is opposite mine, which means I can see him when he goes out and comes in. I also watch him every Wednesday morning when he goes to jog. He leaves his house at 7 am and gets back between 7:25 and 7:30 am. I love the way his muscles flex with beads of sweat dancing on his face while he runs in his sleeveless Versace t-shirt.

I am the apple of his eyes. I know this because every time he passes, he looks up at my window, knowing that I would be there and then he gives me a curvy smile; a smile that leaves my heart reeling.

I am a depressed 21 year old who hates to see the dawn of a new day. I am sure that natural disasters are better than I am. Nobody loves me.

They say God in heaven loves me. If he truly does, why does he make me see a new day? Why wouldn’t he take my life? I know peace comes in death. The world hates me.

But, I am confident of the love of Allen. He treasures me like diamonds. Our hearts beat as one and I am the reason he lives.

I look forward to the day we’ll finally say our first words to each other and share our first kiss.

The thought of Allen gives me hope. Sometimes I get so depressed, I start to cut myself with the sharpest knife in my kitchen drawer but then I remember that one-day Allen and I will be together and we will ride on the wings of the earth. And then I feel so much better like ice on a bruise.

Once Allen and myself are together, I would stop cutting myself because his love would fill my hunger and longing for pain.

Last week, Allen came home with a lady who had skinny legs, he took her into his house. I was so angry I promised never to talk to him or watch him again; but true love never dies.

For days I was lost in the stream of my thoughts, trying to decipher what I had done wrong that he would cheat on me. On the third day, the pieces came together like a puzzle. Allen wanted us to move to the next stage in our relationship, he was tired of the smiles and he wanted us to have our fist conversation; our first kiss, and our first touch.

I knew I had to make the next move; Allen could be so shy, real men could be shy.

I gave myself a three days beauty treatment before I chose to go see him. I had to look beautiful on our first kiss and touch.

Yesterday, I went to see him.

I was dressed in a white Givenchy knee length dress so I could look like a mini bride. I also had my knife in my purse; I was going to show it to Allen so he would understand me and love me with my weakness.

I pressed my fingers to his door bell. He opened the door; I could see surprise and love laced on his face.

‘Hi Allen’ I said grinning.

‘Hi” he replied, I heard surprise in his voice.

I stood at his door, waiting like a perfect lady for him to invite me in, he did.

“come on in’ he said smiling. My heart soared with that smile as I walked in.

‘Nice place’ I said looking around.

‘Oh! Thanks. Do you want something to drink?’

That question fueled my happiness; I had joy like a river. I was sure once again that Allen loved me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t even let me into his house or ask me if I wanted something to drink.

‘Oh no I’m fine. Just come sit beside me so we can talk’ I said

‘I’ll just sit over here’ he replied. Sitting on the couch opposite mine.

I understood him; he didn’t want to seem too forward.

‘Okay’ I said smiling again. I couldn’t remember the  last time I had smiled that much in a day.

‘So what can I do for you?’ Allen asked

I giggled. I found it exciting that he wanted me to make all the moves.

‘You can do anything for me Allen’

I lifted myself off his couch and walked up to him, I bent looking like the number seven; I put my face close enough to his’ so I could feel his breath on me. I placed my hands on his face to feel its smoothness. I didn’t get enough chance to savor the moment. Allen jumped off the couch suddenly like a toad in a thunderstorm.

‘What are you doing? I don’t even know your name’ he said.

‘Oh baby…  I can’t believe you don’t know my name… with all the affection we share. But that’s fine– my name is Charlotte.’

‘What affection?’ he asked.

Allen’s attitude was beginning to piss me off; I was at the edge of my cliff. I knew women liked to play hard to get but I never knew the same for men. I guess I never got the memo.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘What about the smiles we share everyday? I know you love me Allen and I love you too, there is no need for us to hide it any longer.’

‘What are you talking about? I’m sorry dear if I passed the wrong messages with my smiles. I bear no kind of affection for you.’

I held my stomach, his words had hit me like a punch to my gut. I was enraged; I knew he was acting up because of the lady with skinny legs.

‘ You can’t leave me Allen’ I moved close to him and tried to touch him. He pushed me off

‘You need to leave now’ he said

I won’t live without you. I thought to myself.

I ran to my purse and grabbed my knife. Blinded by rage I began to punch him with the knife as I screamed. Then I noticed his body had gone limp; he had stopped moving.

‘Allen! Allen! Allen!’ I called him, he wouldn’t respond.

I accepted my fate then, he didn’t love me enough to stay. I went back to my apartment, shut my windows, curled into my dark world, and began to cut myself deeper than I used to.

By Oluwaseyi Oluyole @sunkit1 on twitter.


Perfect Love

I stood there,
Eyes fixated on nothing,
My mind taking it all in.
They did not matter,
The children,
Nothing at all,
No one at all.
The waves came crashing on me,
I stood still,

Then it all came,
The mistakes,
The past.
As the sun rose steady behind the ocean,
The light exposed it all.
Scars became open wounds again,
The past became the present,
My mistakes became my life.
The waves came crashing in again,
But this time was different,
My tear glands becoming one with the ocean,
One tear for who I used to be,
Another for all the pain,
Then another for all those who ever left,
More for the walls I kept up high.
They kept coming for the times words cut me deeper than razors did,
And the times I walked with my head up high.
The times I didn’t care – or maybe did,
The times she hurt me,
The times she acted like I was nothing,
And the times she enticed me only for what she wanted.
The realization that I was but a tool,
The realization that people always leave,
And people are not who they seem they are.
Then they came in rivulets knowing all this didn’t matter.
The sun was up now,
The light came with a warmth, a Presence.
The tears rushed with a knowing that,
I was loved regardless.
Perfect love healed me,
This love gave me strength,
Made a beauty out of my scars,
And showed me a future void of pain.

The waves came crashing in again,
But now I ran along with the children by my side,
I laughed a genuine laugh,
I turned my back on the ocean a different person.
I was the person who came with all my baggage,
It was I who came with all my dirt.
But His grace had stripped me naked,
And His love had purged me clean.

follow  @Aunty_HotStuff on Twitter

God ♥ Family ♥ Dami ♥ Friends ♥ Blogging ♥ Art♥. I am a light in this dark world. the answer to someone’s prayers.

Blogs at:

For those of us who went to boarding school, (original ones oo not the aje butter ones) We know what it can be like to be a short junior. That’s what the next purge is about. You will love it.

Right now, Yvonne enjoyed the purge concept so much, she wrote another piece 😀

Please send entries to loonpurge and hola me on twitter @sunkit1

Here we go…


Hello readers, every purge I’ve read so far was really interesting, deep and entertaining as well. Beautiful stories from beautiful minds. As for my purge today, I’ve had every reason to write about an exciting moment but what would be more exciting than talking about freedom.
I was watching the block buster movie World War Z sometime last week. I connected my laptop to the new LCD/LED TV my dad bought. The 54 inches gadget gave me a cinema feeling and I was really excited.
I slouched into the softest couch and ached to watch my one and only hero; Brad Pitt. He was incredible in Thor and Snow White and the Huntsman, I couldn’t wait to see him in World War Z. So the movie was actually divided into two halves and I had just started the second half when my eye lids began to close. Now this movie was far from boring, in fact it was action filled and scary at the same time but I just couldn’t help it, I dozed off on the couch.

I woke up almost immediately but I wasn’t in my living room anymore, I was sweating and breathing hard, dressed in a hospital robe, I still think it was a mental hospital robe. The atmosphere felt awkwardly tense. I wanted to get up and run then it dawned on me that my wrists and ankles were chained to the chair. I could swear I was petrified to my marrow.
“Help!” I screamed, “Somebody help me! Mummy, daddy, anyone! Please help, please” my scream had turned into a pitiful sob. I was in a room, it was dimly lit so I strained my eyes to observe the dark object before me, when I realized it was the LCD tv, it came on.

A hallway, a moderately wide hallway, also dimly lit with flickering bulb lights was shown on the screen.
“What is this?” I muttered as I struggled to pull my wrists out of the locked chains. I struggled and struggled, screamed and wailed to no avail.
Looking up to screen, I saw a door in the hallway with a bulb above it, No, that door wasn’t there the first time. It actually just appeared. Amidst my wondering and quiet sobs and struggles, the door knob turned and the lock clicked. There, a girl walked into the hallway; she was dressed in the same robe I was wearing, braids tied up in a loose bun, no jewelry or make-up, she was on bare feet. She looked tired, stressed out, eyes swollen like she had been weeping all her life. I stared at her face till I realized I was the girl on the screen. I stared at sixes and sevens, with no idea what I was doing in my tv.

I sat silent and lost for a minute or two and watched eagerly. I was now about to watch the scariest movie ever, with myself playing the lead actor.

(I would address the character on the screen with the first person pronoun)

So I walked down the hall slowly, looking left and right, mind off the rails, then I noticed a shadow in a corner by my right. The shadow became a visible human being, a young man I recognized. He still had that sinister smirk, the tattoos, the piercing, I remembered the pair of jeans and army green t-shirt. He was looking straight into my eyes.
“You bastard”, I muttered. I could hear a dialogue in my head,
“Leave me alone!” was a girl’s voice
“Shut your stupid mouth and stay still!” a guy replied.
Tears came down my cheeks almost immediately and I felt something moist wetting my gown, I looked down and noticed a dark red stain that appeared almost immediately. I gasped and looked up to where that young man was but he was gone. I tried screaming but couldn’t hear myself. I kept walking down like a wounded animal and noticed that more people appeared in the hallway. The first set of people I recognized were my boss and her randy fiance, they seemed to be chuckling and smiling. No, they were actually laughing at me. I rolled my eyes and looked away to another corner where I saw a group of three girls chattering, they looked at me at the same time and let out pretty loud laughter simultaneously. Oh, I hated those girls, they were once friends but betrayed me. I felt pain and anger well up inside of me. I walked down and saw more people, a man playing joker cards on a table, I took him to be the man that scammed me once. Oh that episode really hurt me and almost broke me. And there, the man I thought was mine was standing with his new girlfriend or fiancee I suppose. He still looked really trim, stylish and ever handsome with his beaming smile that could light a lady’s day. I heard another dialogue in my head,
“You make me a happy man, give me your innocence, that’s what I ask for” he sang. “Don’t play with my heart for I’ve never loved any other” I replied in a high pitched voice
“My only love, that is what you are, give me your innocence, let me love you more”
I cried hard as the voices faded. A set of twin boys of about 10 years of age with shaven heads approached me, they both wore white t-shirts with the phrase ‘BAD CHOICES’ boldly written on them in red ink. They got to where I was standing and started laughing with snort running out of their noses. I got so furious and upset, fell on my knees and buried my face in my laps and sobbed.

I didn’t hear anyone laughing anymore, I heard a door click open, I looked up and saw a lady walk in before me. She looked very confident, tall, beautiful and elegant. She wore a smile that could take one’s breath away. Funny enough, she looked exactly like me. She came to where I knelt and gave me her hand, she helped me up and gave me a can of petrol and put a lighter in my hand. She smiled at me and I immediately knew what she wanted me to do. I ran to the door I came through with the can in my hand and ran back to where I ran from, pouring the contents of the can every corner of the hall. I stood by her side and lit the lighter, everyone that appeared in the room earlier reappeared and were all giving me a stern look. I smiled even more and threw the lighter at them. I watched them burn and fade like ghosts or should I say memories.

I walked out of the door the lady came in from but she was gone. It was very bright outside and there was a cliff ahead. I stood at the edge of the cliff, closed my eyes and felt a heavy stone being lifted from my shoulders.

The TV went off immediately and I raised my head to reveal red eyes from prolonged weeping and a runny nose. The cuffs and chains broke off releasing my wrists and ankles. I got up and walked towards a door that was half open, it led outside. I walked to the same cliff I had seen in the movie, closed my eyes and let myself fall from it and into a river.

I jerked up from the couch and began to cough, checked my wrists and ankles hoping to see bruises and cuts from the excess struggling with the cuffs and chains. There was nothing there, it was all a dream. My World War Z had ended and the TV screen had gone blank.
“I can’t believe I was forced to watch myself get hurt by the past and memories from it” I said to myself as I lay on my bed thinking. I shut my eyelids hoping not to have such dream again.

I’m really glad I decided to get over my past, destroy the bad memories of being hurt so many times and move on to become the strong and confident person I should be. Every reader should that too.

It’s Yvonne again, the fashion designer who loves words. Remember to follow her on twitter @yvonne_evyluv

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22 😉 … School work and my new job is swamping me, So sorry I was MIA, however its a special day today (i’m so tempted to blog Taylor Swift’s ’22’.) I tried not to hype this day and told people not to call me but just couldn’t help it. The love is too  much. One more thing, please after reading this purge, vote for N. Bassey’s etisalat story here: The story is worth all votes.

And finally, Follow me on twitter @sunkit1 and send your purges to *wink *wink
And this purge is deep. An hybrid of poetry and prose. Only Dami Can pull this off.
Few have seen the pain behind my pen,
None has ventured to ask why my hands quiver or my words shiver.
They see a story and ignore all that is shameful and gory,
I shall purge now and give the First of poets glory.

[Fiction or fact
I’ll leave you to figure that
Since I don’t know where to start.
I’ll start with the gloomy part]

“I was once the spawn of hell,
Tied in chains in the belly of hades.
All of my desires and wanton lusts
Held me bound all year round.
He that had power of death,
Frightened me, blinding me.
Darkness gorged my eyes out,
Or rather I should say I was born without eyes…”

I can’t remember when I met Christ definitively but I know that at one point in my journey I was a wastrel. Face-palmed by my mother, even my dad threatened to neuter me. Like the prodigal son I shoved my middle-finger in my father’s face and fled the homestead with my inheritance.

Let me tell you where I was. My lies were rarely few and far between. They were noxious and filthy. Driven my a need to impress my friends. My hands moved swiftly through purses. I was skilled, almost surgical. My eyes hungered for candy, what you call the lust of the eyes. I knew I had a problem when the plastic cleavage of a mannequin set me on fire with desire.

And the god of this world
Who ruled with the power of death,
That regent of sin
Blinded me and caused me to wander-lust

My name was Joseph yet my dreams were putrid infestations of the demonic sort. I couldn’t see beyond the sway of ‘her’ hips and the sultry outline of her lips. I didn’t wait for her to invite me in, I hurried to her door and gave her all of me.

I wore a cloak of sadness.
My voice was a distant croak – laden with lies and distorted truths.
I gathered to myself ladies,
And toyed with hearts like a petulant child.

You don’t know my story, or why all I can write is His story. Night after night I stood at doom’s edge, my feeble frame at the end of the precipice. Despair threatening to push me into the chasm. I was blind! I was deaf! I could neither see his grace shine so bright, nor hear his love speak so loud.

But He touched me… Me! A leper! I could quote a thousand scripture but the word was not in my heart. I was an invalid dressed in a slick tuxedo and smart shoes, yet scaly white beneath.

“Gentle Jesus meek and mild
A thundering Lion! Wise and wild
The lamb that takes away the world’s guilt
And with his blood washes all her filth
I was in hell and slave to sin
But in His blood I am redeemed”

Then I found him or rather He found me.
He touched me…
He told me: your sins are forgotten. In the midst of my sobbing, he held me up and embraced me. This is why I cry in worship.

I can’t remember when I met Him because now that I look back He was there all along. Even in my darkest night when I penned my suicide notes or piled a stack of pills to drown the voices in my head, He was there. This is why I know that I don’t need more grace or more love! For even in my sin He died for me.

My name is Joseph. I have no past for it is written in blood. I simply am for He is and as He is so am I in this world. follow on twitter @damilar3


We are here again 😀 …This is Deborah’s purge, one of those deep entries.  If you don’t read it, then you must be on a long thing.  You better love it as much as I do.

Stay tuned, there is this really funny purge I am going to post on Monday.

All rights reserved, Please make my day and send entries to also hola me on twitter @sunkit1

Journey Through Eternity Wall Photo

The Journey

Its one of those nights for me, I’ve just read some of the deep poems and stories on the purge blog, and here I am sat opposite my laptop, trying to think of a way to write something deeper than what has already been written. Perhaps a poem of some sort, or a narrative of an event that happened in my life. Nothing was coming. Even my laptop wasn’t helping.

For lack of anything thought provoking to write, I close the email page a third time and open Facebook, maybe a little mindless ‘internetting’ would get my intellectual writing juices flowing. I stare blankly at the page. I start to drift away and then my over-thinking kicks in. I pretend to be happy and all what not but deep down I am unhappy and saddened. In the midst of my unexpected sad thoughts my surroundings began to dissolve from me and there I was in an open space, nothingness enveloping me in its entirety.
I thought I had died and gone to a land of nothingness, I feared the worst and began to wander off when I saw a younger me sat in a corner waiting and staring. I inched closer and the apparition before me filled with me an even deeper sense of sadness. It was no apparition, it was indeed a younger me. The innocence that filled my eyes, the sweet youthfulness that was me, just as I began to weep at what I had become now, young me stretched out a smooth beautifully caramel coloured hand at me. I took it and my journey began.
Young me took me to the very beginning, the humid Thursday night many years ago  when I took in my first breath. When I was doomed to my destiny. What I saw broke me, a young girl being born into the world not knowing what was to come. I had a thousand things to say to my mother there and then, I started to scream at her, “give that child away”, “abandon her when you can, all she’s going to do is bring you grief and heartache”. It was the little I could do for my mother now. I had made her cry so many times, I love her I really do but she deserves a child that would make her happy not me.
Little me sensing the immense pain my heart was feeling watching the events unfold before me took my hand and away we went. We sped past through the years  and I saw myself grow. I wasn’t so bad after all, I was loving, caring and affectionate. My mother was so quick to tell everyone about me and my dad would shower me with praises left right and centre. Where then did I go wrong? We stopped in front of a door as if to answer my question. It was all too clear, the day I lost my innocence. I could not bring myself to open that door. I knew what was happening behind it and I could not stop it. All my screaming and kicking and shouting could not help me. I heard the shriek behind the door and that was it, my innocence had left me. I knelt before the door a pain I couldn’t explain taking over my very being. A pain so deep I could not cry, I knelt there for what seemed like hours and when I turned around young me was dead.
My innocence and sweetness had died and I could not revive it, I began shaking young me but she was long gone, With my own hands and my own doing I killed off my innocence, the key to my happiness I destroyed and I was left all alone to deal with it. I sat down next to the dead me and continued watching. Things sped past but I could see it clearly. As the years went by things got worse and young me decayed. She decayed and decayed until she was just bones and that was where I was now, I had reached the present and I had ruined myself beyond a point of no return. I became angry rather than sad, the world deceived me! The world lied to me! The world told me all I was doing was ‘fun’, and urged me to go on because I saw it on TV and heard it all around me.
In my anger I was returned to the nothingness I never really left and there in the corner sat another me. This me was a sight for sore eyes. This me was tired and drained and was a pull and push away from death. But to my surprise this me spoke, it told me things I’ve always known and showed to me the negatives by which I live my life now. It showed me all my harboured doubts and all my inhibitions  and then it said “this is what is killing me, us”. Then it showed me a door and as I walked through I was hit with happy things, beautiful memories of things I had achieved. For the first time in a long time my heart smiled and my soul sighed with relief.
I walked out and it was nothingness again, but this nothingness was my fresh start. I was not in nothingness after all, I was in the canvas of my own life, With my own hands I killed my innocence but with these same hands I shall build my dignity. With my own hands I brought about my sadness and unhappiness and with my own hands I will paint the rest of my life in glorious colours that I wish, My blissful ignorance and young naivety may be long gone but they gave way for the woman I have become today and the future of greatness that awaits me.
With that I came back to reality and with a renewed vigor to want to live life I picked up my laptop and began to punch keys and make words.
Deborah Agboola blogs at and tweets @Gbemisola_A She loves humorous intro’s and outro’s otherwise, she faces the risk of depression.

Hi People, This is Yvonne Aka Ginger’s purge. Remember All rights Reserved.

Please send your entries to and hola me on twitter @sunkit1

Thanks Guys for always reading.



I hummed the teddy bear song by Barbara Fairchild as I massaged the locally prepared shea butter through my hair and scalp. I had just washed and dried my hair and I was getting ready to face the day. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to achieve that day, I wasn’t even sure if there was a reason to live for that day. I folded my hair and held it up in place with pins. I put on very light eye make up and smeared my lips with shimmering red lipstick. Already dressed in a pair of jeans trousers and a shirt, I sat back on my bed, I had no clue what I was feeling; it was far from  happiness and far from hatred. No, I wasn’t bitter, I wasn’t mad at anyone. It was deeper than sadness, it was a whole different level of emotional trauma or stress.

My mum and I weren’t particularly close, I felt so alone each time I remembered that I didn’t have friends either. Oh yes, I was used to that lonely feeling. ‘Why do people pretend to care’, I was beginning to think aloud as I struggled to unlock the padlock securing the door to my shop where I do everything sewing and art related.

I sat over my sewing machine and watched naked kids play under the morning light shower, sonorous voices of two Calabar women exchanging the morning gossip could not be ignored. Mama Good, a jovial woman in her mid-fourties, was watching her pot of soup and wrapping ‘eba’ in transparent nylon wraps. The aroma from her egusi soup reminded my stomach that I hadn’t had anything all morning so I quickly ordered for a wrap of eba and soup to be served to me by noon, and of course, we spoke in our local dialect also.

I worked till 3 pm and became unusually tired, I felt this surge of weakness well up from within. I couldn’t think of what to do about it, my spirit was almost broken, I had borne so much and locked it all up inside. I felt no one could understand, I knew sympathy wasn’t going to help then so I couldn’t talk to anyone. I just needed strength, it was my only solution; I needed grace to walk through the flames. I needed to find peace or a place of solace. I was hurting inside, then I knew what I felt was pain.

I quickly packed everything I needed to go home with. I took a bus to the only place I could find peace. It was quite a distance and the traffic didn’t help matters, there was a congestion but at least, the bus was creeping. I slouched and relaxed on my seat hugging my hand bag and closed my eyes. The bus was utterly quiet, no one was getting on or getting down and soon, I was at the gate of where I could call home. It was open, I was breathing hard, and I made the first step inside, then the second and third turned into a quick pace. I was running towards the cathedral building. I couldn’t decipher if my heart leaped for joy or the pain grew.

I got to the western door, that faced directly opposite the altar, panting. My knees felt numb, my fingers and lips quivered. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks, I smiled as I sang the Amazing Grace and walked down the isle to the altar. I got to the altar and knelt down and muttered a silent prayer for strength as I sobbed. Then I heard The Voice, it said, “When someone lies to us, it teaches us that things aren’t always what they seem; When someone cheats us it teaches us that greed is the root of all evil and we should aspire to make our dreams come true through the right means and when a loved one is unfaithful to us, it teaches us that resisting temptation is man’s greatest challenge, and finally each person that enters our lives has a unique lesson to teach us”.

I knew from then that there would be beauty from pain afterwards and it would all fall in place someday.

I’m Yvonne aka Ginger, a fashion lover, writer and model. Also a melancholic sanguine recovering from a psycho-neurotic disorder; depression (LOL), I’m getting better by the day. I love writing, it serves as an outlet to express my deep thoughts and I’ve worked on a novel to be published soon. Yes, I’d be the happiest person if I could meet with the writers of this purge someday and share experiences. You can find me on and @yvonne_evyluv on twitter.

Good morning.

Hope we had a good weekend cos I sure did.

This here is Dunni’s Purge. A realistic piece that goes to confirm that trust is really a box of chocolate and you never know what you’ll get.

Please send your entries to

Hola me on twitter @sunkit1



I was doing the dishes when my mum announced, “Feyi, you know you’ll be going to the university in few months’ time and I’ll need someone to assist me around the house so I employed a house help.”

“Okay. Male or female?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

“Male. He’s arriving next week from Togo.”

“Ugh, Mum! You know I don’t feel comfortable around male house helps. Moreover, how are you going to deal with the language barrier? Both of us can’t speak French fluently.

“See, we are in the twenty-first century”, she informed me, as if I’d just stepped out of a time machine. “Not many people are willing to be menials anymore so I can only take what I get.”

“Yeah, and luckily, it happened to be a boy,” I retorted

She sighed exaggeratedly. “Honey, the thing is I don’t trust the female ones. They’re so naive and gullible. Remember that girl that lived with us when you were ten? I never told you why I sent her away she got impregnated by the barber that works in the next street. I don’t want history to repeat itself. Moreover, boys are more hardworking. Oh, and about the language thing, the woman that helped me get him said he can speak little English.”

He arrived the following week. I had just returned from a friend’s house, when I saw him sitting in the parlour, with a ‘ghana-must-go’ bag on the floor beside him. He was wearing a white robe, like an angel bringing good tidings to my family. He was swarthy and seemed to be of average height.

“Hello, you must be the new house boy.” I said, forcing a smile.

He nodded. I decided to switch to French.

“Comment t’appelles tu?”

“Placide. Je m’appelle Placide.” His face lit up immediately. “You talk French?”

“Um, yeah, I speak little French.” I was about to mount the stairs when an idea occurred to me. “Hey, let’s make a deal. I’ll teach you English, you’ll teach me French.” He nodded his head obligingly, smiling faintly.

Placide behaved like his name. He was placid and meek. He was very diligent and got a hang of things pretty quickly. He took initiative and didn’t have to wait for orders before knowing what to do. My father was usually apathetic to every helper my mum employs but when Placide returned the three thousand naira he had found in the pocket of my dad’s jeans when he was about to wash them, my dad took a liking to him. Honest helpers are as rare as real diamonds.

I kept my word. My mother had neatly stacked my primary and secondary school textbooks in the bookshelf in my room, so I fished out the ones for English and French. He possessed an enviable alacrity and aptitude for learning, which helped him master the English language faster than it took me to master French.

The apprehension I had earlier concerning him quickly vanished, and a bond began to form between us. I became comfortable around him, and would converse freely with him whenever we happened to be together.

“Placide, you seem really clever and dexterous. Why aren’t you in school?” I asked one day, when we were cleaning up the kitchen.

He sighed, “I dropped out of secondary school when I was about to enter the final year. My parents got involved in a car accident few days before school was to resume. My father lost his life, while my mother couldn’t walk anymore. We exhausted all the money we had for her surgery and wheelchair. I couldn’t continue my education.”

“I’m so sorry. But don’t you have siblings or relatives that can be of help?”

He shook his head. “I have an elder brother but he doesn’t live with us. He’s very selfish. He works in a business firm but never bothers to send money home.”


“Yeah. I’ve been doing odd jobs since then, so that I can save up enough money. I’ll send some to my mother− my aunt takes care of her presently– and I’ll use the rest to further my education.”

“That’s good. What do you want to study?”

“Computer Engineering. That had always been my dad’s dream for me.” His voice sounded husky, as if he was crying, but he was doing the dishes so I couldn’t see his face. I walked over to him and hugged him from behind, not knowing what else to say. Comforting people was not my forte.

Days turned into weeks, and then months. My mother successfully persuaded Placide not to return home at the end of the year as he was now part of our family. He celebrated New Year’s Day with us.

The first week of that year was very tiring for me. Due to the previous strike ASUU embarked on, the University of Ibadan ended up starting a new session in January, instead of September. I was to leave the following week, so I was busy buying all the necessary items and packing for school. Placide was somber through out that week, and I had to promise to call him often just to put a smile on his face.


The sound of a zip being drawn down stirred me one night. I could feel a movement on my legs. Something was tugging at my underwear. “Oh my God, a rat,” I thought. I started and fully opened my groggy eyes only to see Placide over me. He was half-naked, clad in blue-checked boxer shorts, and was looking downwards into my skirt as if he was searching for a treasure between my thighs.

I was bewildered. Why was I still in my clothes and not my night wear? Why was Placide on my body? And then everything started falling into place. I had got back home late the day before. Out of fatigue, I had slept off, forgetting to take my shower and change into my nightwear. I hadn’t bothered to lock my door. My parents had mentioned that they would be attending a vigil that night. Placide had surreptitiously entered…

“Oh my God. What are you doing?” I cried

He looked up at me and blinked, as if he had just had an epiphany. “I…I, um, came to get something.”

“On my body? Jesus. Just get off me and get out!” I said, tears already streaming down my face.

“Feyi, please stop crying. I’m very sorry.”

I looked around me, and picked up the glass lamp, that was on my bedside table. “I swear I’ll break your head if you don’t leave my room this minute.”

He scrambled off. I hurriedly locked my door, and turned my back towards it as I slid to the floor. The tears gushed down in full force at that moment. My mind was whirling with agonizing emotions− Anger. Disappointment. Shock.

The person who I called my brother had tried to… what was the appropriate word for his action? Indecent assault? Attempted rape?

After all the love my family had shown him, he had chosen to repay us with evil.

What exactly did he expect? That I’d not wake up while he tried to sleep with me? Or I’d wake up and give him a go-ahead? Or maybe he was sleep-walking. The more thought I gave his action, the more obfuscated my mind became. I always made sure I was dressed decently at home so as not to seduce him. I could not remember ever giving him the impression that I was attracted to him. He always called me his sister so I never had the slightest idea of him being attracted to me.

I was angry at myself.  My usually keen instincts had failed me. No warning alarm had gone off in my head. I had let my guard down.

I got up from the floor, and got onto my bed. A green wristband beside my pillow caught my attention. It had the letters WWJD imprinted on it. I sighed. I had no idea what Jesus would do, but I knew how he would feel.

Jesus, this is how you felt when Judas betrayed you, right? The difference is that you’d seen it coming. I hadn’t.

I was in a quagmire. Was I supposed to tell my parents or pretend like nothing ever happened?

Hypnos emancipated me from my thoughts, as he cast me into a deep sleep while Morpheus formed dreams of half-naked men in blue-checked boxer shorts.

I opened my eyes, looking into the worried eyes of my mother. “Feyi, are you okay? It’s noon and you’re still asleep. Or did you observe your own vigil at home?” My mother was like that– always trying to joke even when she was worried. I smiled faintly.

“Seriously, are you okay? Your dad and Placide are really worried about you.”

The events that had occurred in the early hours of the morning flashed across my brain. In that moment of truth, I made a decision that seemed to border on folly. I decided not to inform my parents or anyone at all. It would break their hearts, and my father would definitely send him away. I knew how much they needed him. My mother needed him to help her around the house. My father had taken him as the son he never had. I remembered when they’d play table tennis together and discuss sports for hours. I thought of Placide’s mother in the wheelchair. I thought of his late father and his hopes for his son. He needed this job.

I knew that reporting his actions would not take the pain away. Instead, it would cause more pain for everyone involved. He had not actually defiled me. And I was leaving for school in few days so the opportunity would never arise again. I would suffer in silence, I would endure the pain. Time would heal my hurts and perhaps enable me to trust again. It was better for my parents to dwell in blissful ignorance. It was what I thought Jesus would do he would sacrifice himself for the joy of others’.

I smiled at my mum and said, “I’m fine.”

Placide has returned to his country. The world can finally hear my story.

Oluwadunni is an 100 level Law student of OAU. She is a PhlegMel who hopes her laziness will not hinder her from being a great writer. She only gets enthusiastic about the Word of God, good books, like-minded people and fine guys. She blogs at and is @I_am_doxa on twitter.”