THE MARRIAGE ACT

 THE MARRIAGE ACT

With the institution of marriage being so saturated with clueless adults, who go into it without proper knowledge or understanding, and who are not utterly equipped with the new age shock absorbers, will always come out broken, busted, and disgusted with the entire experience. These days, getting married is a risky business, because one has to literary give themselves over to another, until death comes knocking at their door. Now, a marriage contract is only meant for the mature men and women, and not grown boys and girls, desiring to play house, until they get bored, and decide to jump ship.

That is why we mortals should review the marriage act, make a few little tweaks, modify the set adjustments, and sell it as more appealing, as well as palatable for human consumption, with solid permission from God Almighty of course. Speaking of God, He is the one who created the institution of marriage and sanctified it, in order for it to be a blessing for His creation. Nonetheless, it is we humans who have ruined the holy sanctimony of marriage, disrespecting its values and principles, by breaking every rule in the marriage act book, in effect destroying they very thing that was meant to bless our lives, thereby turning it into a grimace experience.

Again, most of us have no idea as to what marriage is all about, perhaps because the importance of marriage was never taught to us, or maybe because we do not have great examples of healthy marital unions to emulate. That is why; I have come up with a few ideas that will hopefully revolutionize the change needed to make marriage a successful institution, starting with my nation at least, before I decide to go global with this ideology. However, before I share these golden nuggets of wisdom with you all, I would like to make a loud disclaimer that I, Betty Baijun, am not in any way a marriage counselor, although I do wish that I were. What's more, I am just a free thinker, with a mega mind, too many wishful ideas and a lot of creative time on my hands.

Therefore, let no one hold me responsible for any alleged future mishaps, concerning my proposal on amending the marriage act, for I am only able to lead the donkey to a stream of water, but I cannot force the donkey to drink the water. With that being said, it is my prayer that all who are already married, attempting to get married, or getting out of marriage, will benefit from this found marital philosophy, courtesy of yours truly.

Firstly, the "till death do us part" clause shall be thoroughly revised. Dear Lord, please forgive me for what I am about to recommend to your people, however I feel that I must first let you know that ever since the emergence of feminism, equality, technology and such, both men and women have become hyper independent and very individualistic. As a result, nobody wants to compromise on anything anymore. Thus, in the today's world, it is about me, myself, and I together with these humans. Also, "until death do us part", sounds like forever to the hearing many, and while it was well and good for couples in the seventeenth century to hold up marital vows for eternity, it scares the holy out of these twenty first century new age millennials, who can only commit to their smart phones, and Tiktok accounts.

Therefore, I humbly suggest that all marriage contracts should be renewed every New Year; in order to allow all the ignorant, misinformed, oppressed, suppressed, and depressed spouses the opportunity to terminate their contracts, before they suffocate and choke to death in those marital trappings, which they legally bound themselves to. Furthermore, My Lord, most people are helplessly chained to unions they cannot escape. That is why I propose that, every married person should file their renewed marital contracts, just like they file their annual taxes. Equally, anyone who will not be legally married would be considered as, persona non grata, if only to combat the spirit of confusion from wreaking havoc within the holy matrimony. In a word, there would be no marriage, without a legal marriage certificate.

The second amendment of the marriage act would be that, there should be no birthing of babies, until after five years of marriage. Before I expound further on this proposal, may I boldly proclaim that this rule would only apply to those individuals below the age of ninety years. As for the senior citizens, they would do whatever they want, at no charge. However, if legible couples are caught slipping into parenthood early on, they will attract a huge fine, for not upholding the law. For the first five years of marriage, couples would strictly be required to bond, to be well acquainted with one another, with an additional full year of mandatory back-to-back marital counseling sessions, aimed at their own marital growth. However, in case of any break ups to make-ups on their part, they will be forced repeat their five years all over again.

The third amendment of the marriage act would be that, a marriage contract should not be awarded to anyone with two divorce counts. One divorce record is forgivable but two divorce documentations will render one ineligible for marriage, and hence a permanent ban on obtaining another marriage certificate. This means, marriage would no longer be suitable for anyone with a two-count divorce stamp on their record. Instead, it would be preferable that one lives a single life, waiting for the second coming of Jesus Christ, rather than wasting precious time by frolicking in an institution, which does not suit their mindset, as well as their evolution.

The fourth and not so final amendment of the marriage act would be that, there should be no marriage contract given to anyone suspected to be engaged in a polygamous union. Yes, I said it and I fully support this notion, on account of only two people are allowed to sign a marriage contract, as God intended it. To this effect, any more parties to a marital union would be rendered as a felony. As I always tell those who care to listen to me; a romantic relationship between two lovers is considered as a partnership but a merger of three, is regarded as a crowd, a crowd of four is seen as a deadly contraption, and five people entangled in confusion, are a breeding ground for utter chaos and destruction. I rest my case.

 

THE AFRO-MANCHURIAN LEADER

THE AFRO-MANCHURIAN LEADER

The advent of colonialism, and its widespread western philosophy of democracy, ushered in a new breed of Africans, who were skewed in diplomacy, and international affairs. As a matter of fact, the Church and State are responsible for the creation of the Manchurian leader, one who is Afropean, religious, political, and pro-everything. As a result, there arose a new crop of African leaders, different from our ancestors, who were not afraid to venture into the world unknown, take on European names, adopt new gods, adorn exotic garments, and speak foreign languages. Forget magic, these Afropeans were able to conjure up new identities, to suit their modern lifestyles, absorbing the white man's system as their own, while detaching from their traditional values, deeming them as backward. As a result, the Afro-Manchurian was made, ebony on the outside, white on the inside, and everything else in between.

Fast forward to today, and what we have is a cocktail blend of Afro-Manchurian leaders who are not afraid to kill, steal, and destroy, if only to get to the top of the ladder of success, any cost, and by all means necessary. Moreover, do not let the patent African print suits fool you to believing those soggy lies they love to tell, spinning tales of deceit, of how they were born to serve our nations, using the name of God, together with the gullibility of their citizen, in order to loot the coffers in plain sight.

These Afro-Manchurian leaders need not to be mind-controlled or brainwashed, in order to be made into national puppets. As a matter of fact, one need not even go as far as threaten them with prison or sanctions, in order to get them to conform. Instead, one would just throw money at them, and watch how quickly they would lose their religion for Mammon, and pledge allegiance to whomever has the power to make it rain. African leaders fear poverty, worse than a soiled reputation, for most have experienced the ugly side of perpetual lack, and thus have come to hate it with a passion. That is why they live by the hood mentality of, get rich or die trying. In a word, Afro-Manchurian leaders are only loyal to Mammon, aside from themselves, and it shows in the way they pillage the poor, without a tinge of remorse.

Almost every election season, we always have a new crop of Afro-Manchurian leaders, who fight tooth and nail, in hope of occupying those juicy seats of power. In their heart of hearts, they believe that they are the change needed, to replace those corrupt and disloyal predecessors. Some even go as far as soliciting help from spirits, to help in their journey to leadership; however, that is beside the point. Nonetheless, when these Afro-Manchurians manage to get a taste of the power they so desire, it is as if the same Manchurian spirit takes over them, and pulls them almost immediately to join in the band wagon, and consequently, the change they so wished for, seem to be gone with the wind.

Nowadays, Afro-Manchurian leaders are in all sectors of our African economies, reading from the same script, trying to sell rocks to the common person, being blind to the plight of the underprivileged, and leading the blind into a ditch. Moreover, the more potent of a Afro-Manchurian leader one becomes, the more glass ceilings he breaks, and transforms into a gate-keeper, one who is not only disloyal but a corrupt, morphing into a lethal pawn. Once his cheques are cashed in, he is bought and paid for, by his puppet master. Hence, his job is to put on a mask, in order to align with the agenda of divide and conquer, for the sake of his lord, the rain man. Otherwise, why else would the Afro-Manchurian leader taint himself with evil, if not for his own personal gain? Is money not the motivation of this well paid marionette?

However, one would argue that any African could transform to become an Afro-Manchurian leader, because anyone can be bought, if the price is right. Still, not everyone has an insatiable thirst for wealth and power, and certainly not everyone can sell their soul for money. Contrary to popular belief, some people have good morals, albeit a handful, yet who cares about those people, when we have a legion of mindless goons bastardizing our society, for the sake of their bottom line? Need I address that ancient devil again? On the other hand, will I be accused of blaming him for everything? Well then, whom else do I blame, aside from the obvious villain? I guess this time; I will sweep him under the magic carpet, right alongside other bigger problems such as, our warped economy, as well as the never-fading communicable diseases like marasmus.

Speaking of which, it is the year 2024, and Africa is still grappling with Ebola and Malaria, much to my disappointment. It is as if the more things change, the more other things are retrogressing with rapid speed, but I digress. I wonder what our Afro-Manchurian leaders will do, when their time come to be replaced by cyborgs, and artificial intelligence. It is not a far-fetched idea, considering that we are on the verge of the creation of Afro-China, where the Orientals are slowly taking over Africa, one nation at a time. Once Africa mutates into Black China, there is no telling whether our leaders will still be economically viable, to be allowed in the seats of power.

Nonetheless, if artificial intelligence takes over our leadership, then at least our Afro-Manchurian leaders will have the Church to fall back on, for is the Church not the solution to all our continent's problems? When the Manchurian leader has exhausted all his lies, and has fallen on the wayside, he tag-teams with the Church, in order to sell God to us, hoping the we will overlook all his crimes, forgive, and forget, because after all, the Bishop has already prayed for the salvation of the Afro-Manchurian leader, he has anointed him with oil, and God has automatically pardoned his sins, therefore why then can we not extend the same grace and mercy to him, like God has? Oh, Africa? Who will save us from this Babylon system?

 

A BLACK CINDERELLA STORY

 A BLACK CINDERELLA STORY

If I was Cinderella, I would have choked the life out that cringe old step-mother, and hanged those two hag sisters on a poisonous oak tree. I figure that if I have the strength to clean house and cook, I surely do have the strength to haul three ugly heifers out of my life. This is something that any normal Ebonian girl would resort to, if she was forced to step into her glass slipper shoes, and go combat on her haters. Although, glass slippers, in the afro-universe? Mmh?! We shall soon search for their existence, as the story unfolds. Yes my people, this is yet another exclusive fairy turned folklore, by yours truly. You all know that everything changes and gains a new perspective whenever other worlds converge into the afro-universe. So, kindly bear with me, as I take you on yet another wild African adventure in to the world of Black Cinderella or to put it in simple terms, perhaps Nubirella will be a suitably mashed up name for one gentle Nubian Princess.

Like I said, there is no way I would allow some gold-digging ox of a woman to rain on my parade, while I still have breath in me. No sir, would I allow some rodent-looking hood rats to come into my palace, knock me off my throne, and turn me into a helpless maid. I do not care which magic spells they are working with, to wrestle me out of my God-given inheritance. I have all my great ancestral mothers watching over me, to clobber any type of witch attempting to steal my shine.

Not on their watch, will my god-mothers allow their own son to be reduced into a simpleton by some strange woman, whose background is unknown. For all we know, she can easily be a mami wata, although this comparison is a bit of a stretch even for me, as mami watas are known to be beautiful seductive sirens, and unlike like this loathsome maleficent.

What of my mother's people and my siblings? Where is the extended family? Surely, they cannot be missing in this context, as the afro-universe cannot function without its inflexible cultural traditions. To put it plainly, polygamy runs this afro-verse. Yet, this is not my story at all. Ofcourse, it is my duty to give you an exclusive tale of Nubirella from an African perspective, and how she finally clinched her happily ever after. Alright, now come along with me, as I take you on a journey through the afro-verse, where enchanting fairy tales turn to epic folklores.

Once upon a time, beautiful Nubirella was still mourning the loss of her beloved mother, when out of the blue, her grieving father through intense enchantment, bumped into a vile female, whom he quickly rushed into marriage with, while having acknowledged her two cocky daughters as his own. All the people of the kingdom far away wanted to know was, where did the Cruella of a step-mother emerge from? Who was her former husband? But most importantly, what magic spell did she conjure up in order to trap the poor widower in an unholy matrimony? No sooner had the wedding band slipped through her chubby hand, than her red horns began to show, leaving her new husband more vulnerable than he was before, and his only daughter to her wicked intentions.

Nonetheless, when Nubirella's grandmother got wind of the impromptu marriage between his son-in-law and the alien broad, through her cowry shells, she arose and set sail toward the kingdom far far away, in an attempt to rescue her beloved child from her wicked step-mother. Meanwhile, in the kingdom far far away, Nubirella had assumed the role of a house help, in her father's house, pandering to every whim of her jealous step-mother and her ignorant and overly pampered step-sisters, to her father's displeasure. He was at a loss of how he would be of help to her, either because he did not want to ruffle the feathers of his new wife or was under heavy mind control.

Consequently, it was Nubirella who bore the brunt of her step-mother's cruelty, not knowing how to get rid of the beautiful girl for good, so that her daughters may take her shine, as well as her inheritance. Everytime she attempted to put out the young girl's light, she instead budded and bloomed like a lotus flower, radiating in flawless beauty, while her own daughter's became more venomous and dark.

It took exactly ten solid days for Nana to reach the shores of the kingdom far far away at twilight, and just in time for the royal fire dance festival. The family of Nubirella was invited to the royal event, whereby the young Prince, among other bachelors, was expected to choose a wealthy madien to be his first wife, and Nubirella's family were to gladly attend, except for her, whose step-mother intended to keep her hidden from the royal lime light, so as not to hog all the attention, to the detriment of her unpleasant daughters. Besides, they had attained the prime age of marriage, and hence needed eligible suitors to woo them in marriage.

Nana finally arrived in the kingdom far far away, much to Nubirella's surprise, and fast spoke the mystery plan to her granddaughter at her doorstep in the same night, while the rest of her family was away attending the royal fire dance. Nana's plan was to push her grandchild into her destiny, as divine timing was nigh. Hurriedly, Nana weaved a blessing onto her granddaughter, while chanting for her ancestors to join together in on the fire dance. In the twinkle of an eye, Nubirella turned into a royal lady, with her print blue dress, raven nubilocks on her head, glass sandals on her feet, and a black Pegasus as her ride to the fire dance. So therefore, she bid her Nana farewell, as she hopped on the winged horse, which flew her off to the night festival.

When Nubirella arrived at the royal fire dance, all eyes were on her for she was a sight for sour eyes. Of course, the Prince was taken by her beauty so much that he could not help himself, and was compelled to ask her for a dance, for which she obliged him. Therefore, they danced the night away, while gazing into each other’s' eyes, and jamming to the rhythm of the music, way into the night. At exactly midnight, both the Prince and Nubirella began to slowly ascend supernaturally whisked in the air, and away from the fire dance, his crown and her glass sandals shone like gold, to the amazement of the royal guests, who gazed at them, star struck by their glorious transformation into crowned king and queen.

Next to them, were their ancestors and guardian angels who appeared in the night sky, dancing along with them in approval of their impending union. As you can imagine, all that was made wrong, suddenly became right as rain, and as the king and queen finally landed on ground, that evil step mother and her ugly ducklings had already disappeared into thin air, paving way for a happily ever after.

The moral of this story is that even African girls can transform into beautiful princesses. Also, never allow envy to drive you into dimming anyone's light, in order for yours to shine, because such a reckless action on your part will seriously backfire on you, and as a result, you will end up on the losing side of karma. End of story.

 

MEETING THE ONE

 MEETING THE ONE

Young ladies, forget what you witnessed in those romantic chick flicks, for they are a skewed version of what true love really is. Based on my wide range life experience, I can certainly affirm that one's true love does not come in a perfect package, and especially not after you whisper a short general prayer to God, expecting that He will magically shift bible verses, in order to align you to your soulmate. Indeed, if wishes were horses, we would all be riding a herd of them. Nonetheless, the reality about true love is not a fairy tale, as some deem it to be. Before you get to find your true partner, there will be many forks in the road for you to overcome, and each is designed for your painful growth. If you think that the universe will grant you the ultimate gift, before it can test your ability to recognize, accept, and keep it, then think again. The truth is that your perfect partner will be hidden from you, until you awaken to your higher self, ascend to your greater self, and pursue your calling, is when you will come across your soulmate. There are no two ways about it, where true love matters.

Therefore, get your head out of fantasy land, romanticizing everything, soon as you begin to pine for someone new. God answers our prayers for a soulmate in the most transformative way, taking you through a difficult growth process, whereby you die to the mundane, and resurrect to the ultimate purpose. God does not want to loose His soldiers to wicked souls, hence he has to work on you, until you are ready for true love. If you really desire true love, you also must be true love material, otherwise you will always be on the lowerside of the love fence, next to the dirty dating pool pond, swimming with the frogs, rats, and snakes that continually take you for granted, bruise your ego, and eventually deceive you in the worst way.

In short, meeting the one is not a walk in the park. It is a journey for the brave at heart. Yet, I have met a few ladies who dared challenge me on this matter. "I bumped into my true love, and we moved in together a month later, and we have been inseperable since", one youngin once gloated but I forgave her ignorant self for she was a child. At twenty three years, you have not seen nor tasted anything yet, to be chiming in grown folks business. Most twenty three year olds have just left their parents' nest, stepped into early adulthood, and are in college or working to become independent. Therefore, the only type of real love they have experienced is parental love, if they are lucky to have loving parents in their lives.

Puppy love is what twenty somethings are still exploring with the opposite sex, from their teenage years, of which many budding adults will later learn the hard way that this kind of innocent love turns toxic real fast, and hence it is the mother of all heartbreak songs ever produced in all lifetimes. As yet, we have not even began to touch on sacrificial, struggle, and self love, which are in themselves, are painful character development tools, used to push us into maturity, as well as self-actualization. I bet you that when you get to this stage of your life, all those romcoms you love so dearly, will turn into punchlines for your seedy jokes.

Contrary to popular belief, love is not only for the birds but for us all. Although, to be fair, I do believe that the birds have mastered the art of being in satisfying monogamous relationships, until they drop dead, by a predator's deadly claw. Once the gentle bird meets up with the lady bird, they seal the love deal for a lifetime, dedicating their lives to one another, building a nestling for their baby birds, watching them grow, until they fly off into the sunset. Because their life span is short, perhaps their decision to stay with one another is beyond love. Maybe the two love birds, pun very much intended, decide to stay together for connection, protection, and preservation. I believe that these winged creatures trust and obey God's leading of their natural lives, than most humans do.

Yet, the law of the jungle is not kind to any creature, be it bird or man. It is a man eat man society afterall, and no creature is safe within the pecking order. In a word, we live in a fallen world, where none is safe, not in love nor in life. In fact, it is every man for himself, and God for us all. When it comes to love or to be loved, God is the one put on a pedastal before anything or anyone else. Who you worship, is also the one you glorify. Anyone or anything that comes before your God will lead you into disappointment, betrayal, and sometimes even to a sad fate.

Once you have learnt to put God first, then you graduate into self-love. Before you decide to dedicate your love and affection to anyone, make sure you direct love and care to yourself. Anyone who is quick to love others more than they love themselves, is a people-pleaser, looking for validation. After, finding your purpose follows in this direction of sacrificial love. You were not brought into this earth, merely to occupy space. Therefore, you must ask for God's guidance for your higher calling, before finding your true love. You will come to learn that in your purpose, is where you will find your soul mate.

Next, your happily ever after chapter in life opens up when you least expect it. Take que from Cinderella, the most favourite of disney princesses, and learn after her fairy tale. Once she conqured her toughest of battles, is when she met Prince Charming, who came in the nick of time, to rescue, marry, and live happily ever after.

 

 

 

IT'S AFRICAN TIME!

 IT'S AFRICAN TIME!

"There is no hurry in Africa!" I find the aforementioned statement to be utterly offensive to say the least. What, are we Africans not time conscious? The worst thing is that this African time narrative generates from our own tounges, making it more lethal, as well as a self-fulfilling prophesy. How about this statement that reads, "Take your sweet time, under the African sun." Eish! I blame the persons that came up with these retarded catch phrases. It is no wonder the continent is set backward, because we do not value our precious time. On the contrary, the European man is always quick to say, "Time is money", and that is why he most always has the money.

I had an old friend who fit right in to this African time mentality. Whenever we would make plans to meet up, it would take her at least two more hours to officially arrive at the venue, much to my distress. Moreover, when she finally arrived, she would laugh out loud and say, "Sorry my dear. You know how I operate on African time," as an apology for keeping me waiting on her like her house manager. Her blazé attitude for time was such a problem for me, so much so that I developed the habit of scheduling any meetings with her at least two hours in advance, just so that she would arrive in time, and not keep me waiting in the wings. I know that it would have been best for me to discard her for being a chronic late comer.

Nonetheless, here in Africa, it would seem a trivial matter, for one to toss away a long-time friendship over something minute as lateness. Normally we relinquish suspected witches and warlocks but not an incurable laggards, for that would be deemed by many to be petty. Needless to say, I am not perfect either. In fact I do have my African time moments, yet this lady friend took the cake together with its cream when it came to not keeping time.

Additionally, even in our private or public functions, you will hear an overzealous, yet underpaid master of ceremony make crass remaks such as, "Let's not operate on African time people!" I swear, if offense was a thieving bastard, then I would be its poster child, stealing everything from these ungrateful souls, including their sweet time. Anyhow, then the ignorant statement above made by the insensible emcee, would be followed by a roar of laughter, as if to confirm that indeed we are time wasters.

How I wish that I was born in those days, when our forfathers would just close their eyes and inhale the acrid smell in the air, before they could cough up the precise time of the day naturally. Our ancestors would awake up at dawn, having planned for the day's journey ahead of time, follow the sunrise to a tee, keep the pace of the hours, and be back from their safari right on time. Keep in mind that this was before the invention of the clock. Nonetheless, ever since the White Man's education became important to us, most of us can no longer tell time, let alone keep it.

However, my issue of time is not without a backstory to it. I do not know why but those analog clocks we love to hang against our walls at home, have been a serious cause of my persistent annoyance, and troubled childhood. Everytime I see one big old cloak hanging in someone's space, I immediately revert back to those painful memories of being whipped in school, for not being able to tell the time on the clock. It was bad enough that I still could not accurately tell time even at the age of ten, it was worse when my then mathematics teachers compounded my confusion, by introducing military time in my hearing, before I could master the normal time sequence.

Consequently, let us just say that it was a hard lesson for me to have learnt, and leave the rest for my local pastor, to spiritually deal with both my mental and emotional wounds. Anway, by the time I was a teeneger, this time thing, together with the subject of mathematics began to sink in slowly into my brain. I was finally able to tell time, yet only in the English language. Unfortunately for me, being multilingual proved to be very challenging, because time is told differently in different languages, though it remains the same.

Normally, the White man is meticulous about his time. He ensures that everything is done, not only on point, but also in time. He wagers that since he has only twenty four hours of the day, then he should make those hours count for something. That is why he works night and day, to ensure the fulfilment of a goal. I on the other hand take half of the responsibility and leave the rest to my societal upbringing. I mean, I have been indocrinated to having an eight hour beauty sleep, in order for my body to function on an optimal level. Beauty sleep is a sermon I imbibed since childhood, because television and those bourgois magazines said so.

Yet, not so for the white man, who  sleeps only when he breaks forth into success. Therefore, while I was busy sleeping, my fellow counterpart was churning yarn into gold. Nobody told me that I could work deep in the night, that there were non rules, that sleep was only meant for the hard workers. Indeed, ignorance is not blissful at all. As a matter of fact, being ignorant is a plague which affects one's prosperity in the worst way. Now that I slept through half of my lifetime on this earth, I figure that it is time to put in the work of recovering my timely years with hard work.

So, there you have it folks. As much as time and tide waits for no man, this rule may be an exception to Africans, where every time is tea time. As for me, I have personally made peace with the fact that I cannot change the African time mentality, even if I wanted to, but I will not allow it to derail me either.

A VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL; AFRO-HUSBANDS ON THE SPO

A VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL; AFRO-HUSBANDS ON THE SPOT

Just ask any African man to make plans of wining and dining you on a Valentine's Day, and the crude answer you will receive will not impress you at all. To most African men, Lover's Day is like any other regular day on the calendar, with nothing special on it. If majority of our African men are not making money out of this rosy day or somehow benefitting off of it, then they could care less about it. All the same, I do not really blame them as such, for most African men hail from the school of hard knocks, and are therefore not accustomed to celebrating love. As a matter of fact, to most African men, love is pain and struggle, while romance is the name of that old local dingy joint, of which they love to frequent.

Consequently, try to gather courage and ask your rural born workaholic husband to make romantic plans for Valentine's Day, and he will look at you like the goose that laid the plastic eggs. "Who is Valentine's Day and what does he want from us?" This infuriating question is usually the reply that most wives get in response, already used to this kind of utter cluelessness by their village bred spouses, so much so that many gave up on the need to commemorate this auspicious day.

Then there are those religious husbands who regard Valentine's Day as a pagan holiday, burying it in a myriad of scriptures, and tossing it in the trash, alongside the devil. As a result, their wives cannot utter a word about the love holiday, as it is non-biblical. "Show me where in the bible does it encourage us saints of God to celebrate Valentine's Day? Therefore, if it is not in the bible, it is an act of defiance against God! Infact, it is sacrilege!” said the zealot to his beloved wife. My advice to all you wives married to these fanatics, is to honor the Lover's Day, albeit discreetly, or else you all just might end up with heathen labels on your foreheads, and ultimately blacklisted from matrimony.

How about those frugal husbands, whose money is a rare specimen like the white rhino? In actual fact, their money barely sees the sun, for they are hard-core stingy, always claiming to be saving for a rainy day. “Where is the money for celebrating Valentine's Day going to stem from in these harsh economic times?!" That is the uncouth question mainly paused by these scrooge breed of men, to their poor wives. How I pity those women married to such chronic misers. As a result, I will recommend that all you missuses to practice self-love, by spoiling yourselves rotten every Valentine's Day. On this note, I will also urge all you ladies to not waste your time praying for a Valentine's miracle on behalf of your mates. Rather, just accept your mingy partners for who they are, and instead make the Lover's Day count for yourselves.

Next, we have a group of broke husbands, who are borderline poor. These are the ones who penny-pinch everything, including the table salt. With these group of companions, it will do all you wives good to accept, compromise, and do yourselves the favour of sharing your valentine treats with your partners, because lack limits these sort of husbands from acquiring the resources needed to romance you. In essence, stay patient ladies and pray hard for God to prosper your struggling partners, while you both prepare to honour your love on the beautiful Valentine's Day.

Then we have the subservient husbands who celebrate Valentine's Day, just to keep the peace at home. To them, Valentine's Day is a day they must plan for, should they want to stay married. Therefore, they go along to get along with their dominant wives. In fact, they have the bloody day marked red on the calendar, so as not mess up their peaceful lives. These men are the ones that hold on to the slogan of happy wife, happy life. On that delightful day of love, they will pull out their routine of; buying red roses, a box of chocolate, plan a dinner date, and a hotel suite for the grand finale. To their wives, Valentine's Day is the ultimate showdown of the year, but to these compliant partners, Valentine's Day, just like all birthdays, is a planned routine for which they check off their to do lists. Yikes!

Additionally, we have the wounded warrior husbands that operate solely on logic, because they choose to be emotionally detached. These are insecure souls, who have had their hearts broken a few times before, who see the love glass as being completely empty, with abandonment issues, who do not believe in love, and whose hearts are caged inside an ice box. These ones do not respond to any love stimuli whatsoever, for fear of being vulnerable to the love bug. Therefore, Valentine's Day to them is full of bad memories, on top of being a fraudulent money trap. If you are a wife dealing with a broken spouse, then it is best to keep reassuring them that not everyone is a monster like their treacherous ex-lovers Caro, Nelly, and Stacey. As for celebrating Valentine's Day, well, baby steps will do for now. Hence, all I can say to you is good luck with that my dear.

Lastly, we have those passionate husbands that were guided to become gentlemen, men who are rare gems indeed. These ones have been commissioned by the universe to treat women like royalty. These rare human species make it their business to remember every special occasion concerning their beloved wives. To these loving husbands, everyday is a Valentine's Day. As a matter of fact, these precious souls need not to be reminded of any impending special events, for they almost always plan them all ahead of time. These earth angels deserve a grand place among the stars that brightly shine like diamonds in the sky, for being such extra-ordinary human beings.

How I do pray for all you my sisters to encounter solid gems, as those aforementioned, who will make every day of your lives feel like a Valentine's Day. As for me, it is my wish that my future husband will be the kind to always gift me with a black rose, aside lighting a candle, and saying a prayer for me every Lover's Day, as a show his underlying love for me, for that is all I will ever ask of him. To conclude, I wish you all a memorable Valentine's Day.

FAST, PRAY, RUN; THE AFRO-CHRISTIAN GUIDE FOR SURVIVING THE ENDTIMES

 FAST, PRAY, RUN; THE AFRO-CHRISTIAN GUIDE FOR SURVIVING THE ENDTIMES

As we anticipate the day of rapture, Afro-Christians cannot help but to hold on to Jesus Christ for dear life. Since most of us cannot afford the time nor money to take a spiritual retreat to Bali, for an eat, pray, love journey of meditation, we can only accord ourselves a fast, pray, run religious version of the above voyage within our local churches. Afterall, God did not bless us with these regenerative body types for nothing. It is why we do not crack under pressure, despite the vicious generational cycles of persecution from our adversaries. What's more, if slave trade, colonialism, segregation, and racism did not annihilate our existence, then who is the devil to try and stop us from getting to the Promised Land?

From the moment Africans decided to embrace Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour, that fallen angel and his cohort of demons have been losing sleep over our entire race. Gone are the days where these evil spirits would dominate over us, with their atrocious demands of blood sacrifices every waking day. Even for a mild headache, these malignant spirits would demand an arm and a leg, in order to reverse the torment, for which they were guilty of afflicting us to begin with. Nonetheless, when the Messiah stepped on the scene with the promise of hope for eternal life, we hurriedly dropped these fleet of demonic entities like a bad habit.

Once we Africans began to experience the power of saving grace and truth; we abandoned ship, and decamped to follow after Christ, never looking back to our gory past, lest we all succumbed to the enemy's deception, turn to look back, and thereby transform into a pillar of salt, just as Lot's wife. Which brings us to the present day, where the devil is after our African souls, angry at us for ditching his evil plans to have us worship him, instead of worshipping the one true God. That is why he has oppressed, suppressed, and depressed for generations, persecuting our sons and daughters, turning other races against us, projecting his ugly nature upon us, trying to make us feel like we are the wretched of the earth, when he is infact the wretched one.

Further, the countdown to rapture has troubled Lucifer, from the time this good news gospel was proclaimed to us, by the white man. Hence, the fact that we are no longer ignorant of his evil plans, is the reason for Satan's incurable headache. Jesus Christ is coming soon, to take away His church, and the devil cannot stop this prophesy from coming to pass. That is why he is persistently blocking our righteous path, as we race to the finish line, raising the banner of our Lord way up high, and running to victory, because let us face it, when it comes to marathons, we Africans do shine like diamonds. Besides, our ancestors were long-distant traders, so we carry their genes within us.

Did you know that Afro-Christians have been chosen, among other soldiers serving in the army of the Lord, to take the gospel around the world in these last days? Yes, indeed our Lord and Saviour has deemed us worthy to be His heralds, and therefore has poured His anointing upon us, to take the kingdom of heaven by force, and run the race rocksteady to the finish line, of which by God, we shall overcome every obstacle thrown our way, and become victorious in the end. Therefore, fast, pray, and run is the philosophy we Afro-Christians live by, because we have to. In any case, who wants to go to hell for eternity? I would rather be poor, use my last coin to purchase a seat on the heaven express, and wait for rapture to happen, rather than take my chances toiling for Satan in this Babylon System.

Thus, fasting is a practice that we Africans know to well, even though we hesitate to engage in it often. Yet, we must fast for the sake of our communion with God. Similarly, praying is a must for every African soul. Hence, we must pray, because the spirit realm is always active in the African sphere, with imps sliding in and out of invisible portals, tempting us with all kinds of abhorrent stuff. Above all, running is the best part of this survival guide, because when all fails, all we need to do is get out of dodge, by running as fast as we can to our Lord and Saviour.

Nonetheless, the enemy of our souls will not relent in his determination to forcefully drag us to hell fire alongside him. His master plan is to have the whole world treat Africans like slaves, so that we would share in his fate, of being accursed. Regardless, no matter Satan's wicked plans against us, our love for Christ will not diminish. In fact, the more he hates us, the more our allegiance to the Lamb grows stronger.

This prince of darkness should know that we refuse to be outwitted in battle, come hell or high water. After subjecting us to ferocious cycles of torture for centuries, we will be caught dead singing to his looney tunes. As a result, when we see the enemy of our souls approaching, we in turn run as fast as our legs would carry us to the mercy seat. Additionally, our generals of faith taught us well through scriptures, that Jesus is coming soon, and while we have been waiting for Him all the days of our lives, we have hope that any moment from now, He is about to arrive. Consequently, we should be ready for His appearing, for He will come, like a thief in the night, to catch us up to heaven. This rescue mission on His part, will be our ultimate reward, and our greatest victory.

 

THE CHALLENGE OF KEEPING TO THE MORAL HIGHWAY

 THE CHALLENGE OF KEEPING TO THE MORAL HIGHWAY

I recently enrolled myself a in a gymnasium to try and loose the dead weight off me, because I am tired of being the bigger person. Let it go on record that I have switched from taking the high road, for it is an exhausting righteous path. As of today, I am turning over a new leaf. No more being the nice guy, because I am fed up with turning the other cheek, everytime insensitive people decide to purposely choose to offend me. Henceforth, I have made a conscious choice to divert into the cold streets that branch into the low road, way past the dark alleys, toward dangerous route corners, which lead to filthy sewer lines. I have decided to leave charisma behind, and join forces with the rebels in the underworld. For once, I would like to veer from the narrow way, in order have a feel of what it really means to be a rebel.

Even Jesus Christ did not always take the high road. A case in point is when He encountered those grimy merchants trading outside of God's holy temple. Jesus did not turn a blind eye to their disrespecting the Lord's house. On the contrary, He got angry, took a long whip, and furiously chased those covetous tradesmen outside of the sacred temple. He did not let those inconsiderate vendors run amock around the House of God, knowing well that had he decided to be lenient with those money changers, then they would have taken liberties, and proceeded to sell the holy temple. Understanding the nature of stiff-necked fools, those opportunistic traders would probably have waited for Jesus to disappear from the scene of the temple, before they quietly crept back to continue with their usual trade offs, but I digress.

Anyhow, why should I always be the one to look the other way? Why will my foes not do right by me for a change? I am done compromising with my haters, always being the one to forgive, forget, and walk away. For once in my entire existence, I would like to be an agitator, without a shred of guilt. For once in my life, I want to break bad, and transform into a hellion. I want to be right and stay right, for a change. Therefore, spare yourself of the need to preach to me about integrity, and instead prepare the sermon for all my rivals. You see, I know what society requires of me, yet I am rebelling because of his double standards.

Many would concur with me that sometimes being nice is a recipe for agony and pain. I dare you to try and play nice with humans, and watch how fast they betray your trust. As a matter of fact, they will not skip a beat, tumbling over themselves just so that they can walk all over you. Even the scriptures affirm that we should not be overly righteous, so that we may not die before our time. After all, being nice is not a fruit of the Holy Spirit, hence I am switching over from playing nice to acting savage, so to wade off all predators.

What's more, I have made up my mind to never take unsolicited advise of one questionable prophet, whose counsel always borders on ritual sacrifice. His resolve for everything is to offer a huge remittance that which puts a dent in one's pocket, leads to abject poverty, and causes a myriad of ailments, from stomach ulcers, to an eternal migraine, all for God to arise and smote the troublemakers. Moreover, the bigger the sacrifice, the stronger the fight, the greater the glory. According to this traveling prophet, God must be appeased monetarily, for Him to show up and show out in battle against wicked souls on one's behalf. Coincidentally, that is exactly the same counsel the native doctors give to their clientele. At this point, I pray that you are not as confused as I was about the prophet in question.

Anyway, It is going to be a challenge for me, to switch from light to darkness in a jiff, because of that still small voice that communes with me inside of me. Somehow, I am not able to ignore it, no matter how hard I try. This voice follows me everywhere I go, as if a real person is speaking to me, telling me what is right or wrong, like some sort of a Global Positioning System, always directing me back to the lone road. What's more, I am not able to change its settings to a default, because I have no access to its mainframe. Nonetheless, why will this still small voice not let me have my way?

Somehow, I want to be really bad, rude, hard, and crude in the same measure. Besides, brutish people always get what they want under the sun, while I seem to be struggling to exist despite of my righteousness. But God, why did you give me such a mellow heart? Though I am on evil time, I find myself doing good, even for the most wicked of hearts. Have you programmed me to be empathic against my will? Have I no choice to be selfish, when I choose to be? So, why does it become impossible for me to hold malice against another person, when a malicious opportunity presents itself? I carry the burdens of men, as I empathize with everyone including; the goat milk man who supplies my dairy needs, the false prophet misleading others to hell, and even the town gossip, the famous tale bearer, who cannot keep anybody's secret, including her own.

Lord, permit me to be hard this one time, so that I may experience the low road, before I put my raw emotions to rest, while I live my life vicariously through my alter ego. Also, these righteous boundaries are way too binding, and limiting, that I seek to have them loose, until I get a fill of the rebellious nature.

THE BLACK CHINA TAKEOVER!

 THE BLACK CHINA TAKEOVER!

Yes people, Africa is the real Black China. Indeed, the crouching tiger has; invaded our jungle, subdued our lion, sank his claws deep within our roots, taken over our frontiers, and made the motherland his own. Now that China has decided to penetrate almost every nation worldwide, I think it is safe to say that this incumbent super power is inches away from claiming absolute control of the entire world. Move over America, for here comes the flaming dragon, gliding onto the Centre stage, with your eagle wings on its back. These Asians are no joke. In fact, they are the proverbial weaver birds, with the ability to spin yarn into gold, setting the economic stage, as preparation for the final political take over. If you were under the assumption that the Chinese were only good for Kungfu fighting, think again.

Breaking news today is that the China man has fallen in love with the African sun. Yet, that is nothing new. Afterall, do not all foreigners purpose to stay in the motherland, soon as they land their feet on our blessed shores? As a result, the China man is not about to leave Africa any time soon. As a matter of fact, he has already leased our sacred lands for ninety nine years, which means that his chances of leaving Africa are close to none. All the China man needs now is to capitalize on the standard ninety nine years to his advantage, to completely transform Africa to Black China, of which he is currently at fourty five percent within the digital construct.

What's more, the China man has; already embraced Christendom, subsequently adopted a Christian name, and learnt the standard colonial languages of English,  French, German, as well as the Portuguese, in order to communicate his social-economic intentions effectively, for a swift and silent geo-political occupation. The China man is thus far content with the business part of his deal with Africa. Yet, as soon as he comes across the Nubian queens of the Sahara, he will not escape catching a case of the jungle fever, and then it will be absolute siezation for him, for he will have no choice but to make Africa his permanent home.

You know the saying is true, that a black queen is every man's ultimate dream. Hence, there is no resisting these ebony beauties, and the China man is no exception. Perhaps, the Chinese do not know this, so let me school them on this obvious fact, that once you go black, you can never go back! Well, this interracial love quest is not necessarily a bad thing, for the Chinese populace have produced numerous male species for my afro sisters to inter-marry with, thus will no longer be clamming themselves into polygamous relationships, for there will be more than enough Chinese men to go around in favour of their romantic relationships.

It is my humble opinion that, what Africa lacks in numerical terms, China makes up for it one hundred percent. Consequently, our wedding shows will be full of black-oriental interracial love ideas in full display. Halleluyah! Nonetheless, a word of caution to our ethnic girls would be that they must learn to identify their own husbands, and pay attention to their physical attributes, for there are multitude look-alikes among our Chinese brethren, hence we do not want any mishaps to drive the spirit of confusion into our beautiful girls, thereby in turn ruin their happily ever-after.

Anyhow, sooner or later, you will begin to see all the sweet little genius chinegros running around our neighbourhoods, speaking Swahili, Arabic, Yoruba, as well as Mandarin, all in one go. Consequently, in the next few decades, French, English, and Portuguese languages will be replaced with Mandarin in this here Africa. As a result, all our children from generation z-alpha will all be Chinese speakers, as it is foretold in the Black China prophesy.

At least, by this unique merger; Africa will be digitally connected, able to challenge and eliminate poverty, ignorance, and all sorts of diseases, by establishing a steady communist economy, rich in vast information, coupled with medical solutions. Additionally, our diet will largely be sea-based, although it will take the hand of God to pluck meat out of our negro hands. Furthermore, our fashion sense will also change, to blend African print on to those complex oriental kimonos gowns.

Everyone knows that Africans are a proven test subjects for any fashion project. Put us in sac bags, and we will be wingning them like the professional Victoria's Secret Angels, up and down muddy paths, as well as footwalks like runways. Although, a humble request to our Asian brethren would be to make the afro-asian couture to fit our thickum body build. In all honesty, size zero is not an African measurement, no matter who says what. Genetically, we are built for strength and power, thus we should together ensure to make the future fashion pieces that are best suited for our king size bodies.

Over the next few decades, there will only be two tribes in Africa; natives and oriental. The rest will slowly blend into chinegro, making the conquest complete. Forget racism, for this merger between Africa and China will produce black orientals, a new found breed that will lead all African states into one people, one nation, under one God, the Africa People's Republic of China.

Yes indeed, the United States of Africa will morph into Africa People's Republic of China, with the tiger in the jungle as our new found slogan, and the Afro-Yuan as our operational currency. Just like the European man came to Africa to colonize and assimilated us into his culture, so will the Chinese man, take it up a notch higher, by marrying into our clandoms, and buying off the entire continent. In any case, Africa is literary indebted to China, therefore the least we can do is cough up our motherland, if only to save the future of our black oriental descendants.

For this reason, brace yourself people, for the conspiracy theories are ringing true. China is taking over the world, and there is no going back. So, you will be compelled to either align or join the Junta for another guerrilla resistance. The choice is yours. Likewise, for those of you who are resisting change, well get over it, move over, and allow the Chinese to build us a high-tech bridge across Afro-China!

 

CALL ME BY MY TITLE

 CALL ME BY MY TITLE

We Africans love both our main titles, as well as our sub-titles in the same breath. It is what keeps us relevant and feeling so important. Try calling your village headmaster by his government name, and see how fast you loose your teeth in the process. Even his agemates do not get to call him by his nickname, once he attains a high level status in his community. So, how dare you disrespect such an honourable man by reducing him to a commoner?

I too will be offended, if you brazenly ignore my hard-earned epithets, and instead mention my sacred names in public, for all and sundry. It does not matter whether or not I baptized myself as prophetess or chairlady. All you need to do is tow the line, and recognize me for who I aspire to be. Afterall, what will I be without my dubs?

On the flip side, the Europeans do not care much for titles like we Africans do. As a matter of fact, they sort of frown upon those who flaunt their tags, by preaching nobility to them. The Europeans also love their communism, socialism, as well as the universal laws and principles of equal rights and justice. Moreover, the Europeans have made it their business to campaign for inclusivity, all the while making everyone feel important.

However, that socialist crabs in a bucket mentality will not find a place to perch in the motherland, for titles group us in socio-economic classes, a capitalist move that we have inherited, embraced, and come to love, courtesy of the west world. If there is anything America has taught us, is that a grand title talks a big game. Besides, our ancestors too were heavily vested in their titles, which kept them more relevant, and even more powerful. For example, a clan chief in pre-colonial Africa, was like a god king, with numerous wives, plenty of children, and massive wealth to boot.

In all honesty, I wonder just how do I get to raise my self-esteem without my self-proclaimed titles? Better yet, how do I show my importance, without the help of some inconsequential designations to accompany my name? Additionally, how are people supposed to appreciate my existence without the appropriate titles to boot? Being a wife and mother is well and good, yet how do I get shine and be seen beyond my husband's name and wealth? Surely, I must join the church and become a choir member, if not an usher. Better yet, I could engage in a career and become a teacher, anything that would make me feel entitled.

Even our Church leaders, much as they exalt the virtue of humility, are very much entitled, especially when it comes to their coveted leadership roles. Consequently, servitude is a sermon for those at the pew and not for them that mount the pulpit, and if we insist on calling them servants, then serious titles must be attached to their servitude roles. I would love to see the day that a local church elder would despise being called or treated as such. I would also love to see the day that a well known pastor drop his title years in the making, and instead adopt an anonymous moniker in this here Africa.

Perhaps, that is the day pigs might fly high in the sky, for the probability of these two separate occurrences happening in real time are close to none. I could be pessimistic about finding humble clergymen, yet maybe there could be those hidden in the shadows that are called and chosen, yet unspoken and unsung, who walk in piety like Jesus Christ did, and believe in equality for all.

However, in my own experience, only broke believers and poor activists believe that we are all equal, that is until they gain popularity, become men of the people or local politicians, and start minting money, is when you will realise that poverty camouflages the real nature of a true African. The above mentioned are the ones who will insist on holding on to titles, like the juntas taking over alien territories, via force. As a matter of fact, do not make the mistake of reminding them of their humble beginnings, for they will grow poisonous claws, wring your neck, and throw you down a pit latrine.

How dare you confront the nuveau riche local councilors about their broke days, when infact they wish to forget those ugly memories? Are you holding a death wish and seeking to die young? Anyhow, if it is a women's group that I am being invited to join in, I then must insist on being given a title, in order to feel relevant. Better yet, call me deputy vice secretary, or even original member, as long as it boosts my ego, maintains my relevancy and makes me feel worthy.

In rural Africa, if village people find out that your son can operate a helicopter or has been to Beijing, they must grant him a befitting chieftaincy title for such rare accomplishments. It comes with the African territory to preserve all protocols and titles for those seemingly powerful, because not many are blessed to achieve titles. However, the Newage woke type of Africans do not care much about titles, as they care more about the remunerations that accompany the set titles. In fact, they are on the opinion that since they cannot eat a title, or take it to buy food, then it is as useless, as a penny with a hole in it.

Similarly, woke Africans do not also wish to be known by many as having any sort of authoritative power, lest it be found out that they are secret millionaires, and then all publicity be poured on to them. Instead, these awakened Africans love to operate incognito, far and away from prying eyes, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention, while building their wealth without a care for irrelevant titles.

To conclude, much as titles are important, they also do not take from one's worth. This means that you still are of value, with or without your titles. Yet, who cares about value, when you are power hungry? So, bow down, and put some respect on my title or be ready to face the dire consequences.