BECOMING AN FBI

 

I was thinking this morning… I grew up fully committed to being an FBI — a Full-Blooded Itsekiri. I carried the identity with pride. If you asked me where I was from, I would answer boldly. If anything touched my roots, I would defend it with passion.

But here is the irony… I hardly dressed like an Itsekiri man. I wasn’t fluent in speaking the Itsekiri language. The culture I claimed so strongly, I barely lived out.

Yet in recent months, something has been shifting inside me. I now find myself drawn to wearing the Itsekiri attire — not out of obligation, but out of genuine appreciation. The same outfit I once overlooked now feels like a badge of honour. And it made me pause and ask: Why did it take me this long?

As I reflected, an African proverb came to mind: “Cow wey dey in a hurry to go Europe go come back as corned beef.” In simple terms — when you rush away from your roots chasing what looks more attractive, you may lose your essence in the process.

Identity is deeper than declaration. It’s one thing to claim who you are; it’s another thing to live it. Culture is not just in the mouth — it is in your lifestyle, your expression, your daily choices. Many of us are proud of where we come from, but we have not taken time to experience it.

Today, wearing the Itsekiri attire feels different. It is no longer just clothing — it is connection. It is not just fashion — it is identity expressed. And maybe, just maybe, the journey was necessary… Because sometimes, you have to grow away a little — to truly appreciate where you come from.

Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV) says “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

Na Thief! Na Thief!

 

I was thinking this morning… Last week, I set out for an hour of early-morning brisk walking around my old Warri neighbourhood ahead of a busy day preparing for my dad’s funeral.

I breezed past Okere Road, Robert Road, Okandeji Street, Igbi Street and connected Ometan Street towards Bazunu Road. As I got to the junction between Ometan and Bazunu, I took a left turn into Lower Erejuwa Road and headed towards Upper Erejuwa. Just a few steps in, I saw people running across the road, shouting “Ole! Ole!” as they dashed into a narrow street. A woman taking her son to school, who had been walking away from the direction of the scene suddenly made an about-turn on hearing the shout of “ole,” and they both ran to join the growing crowd of onlookers and beaters.

“Warri!” exclaimed another woman walking beside me. “Instead of mama and pikin to go school, dem dey run go look thief,” she concluded. As I smiled and continued my walk past the scene, where the crowd had already descended on a young man, I remembered a near-miss incident from years ago.

An ijesha/Ijebu lady spotted an old friend at a popular market in Warri after many years apart. In excitement, she began shouting and pointing, “Nateef! Nateef!” calling out to her friend Lateef. But everyone around thought they heard “Na thief! Na thief!” In seconds, the atmosphere changed. People grabbed planks and rods and began running toward poor Lateef. When the woman realised what was happening, she screamed at the top of her voice: “No be thief o! Na Nateef!” Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly clarified before the situation escalated.

The story, though humorous in hindsight, is also a sobering reminder of how easily people can become victims of mistaken identity or wrong labelling. Lateef could easily have been beaten to death simply because someone heard Nateef as “Na thief” in a volatile neighbourhood. And that is not just a Warri street reality; it is also a life lesson.

In life, many people carry labels that were placed on them by rumours, assumptions, misunderstandings, or the loud voices of the crowd. But the truth about a person is not always found in the noise of public opinion. The Warri street reminds us that not every shout of “thief” reveals a thief, and not every label tells the truth.

James 1:19 (NIV) "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry." Because sometimes, the difference between “Nateef” and “Na thief” is simply the patience to listen carefully before we react.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE GIFT OF MEN

 

I was thinking this morning… Life has a way of reminding you that one of the greatest gifts God gives a person is not money, not position, not even opportunities… but people. Truly, the gift of men.

In the days leading to my dad’s funeral and throughout the ceremonies, I saw this gift displayed in ways that humbled me deeply. Friends travelled from far and near. Some called constantly to check in. Some quietly sent support. Others stood beside me from morning till night making sure every detail went well.

Some people showed up with their strength 💪, some with their time ⏰, some with their prayers 🙏, and some with their resources 💝. But every single one came with love.

What touched me the most was that many of these people did not wait to be asked. They simply showed up. In the middle of grief, they became pillars.

It reminded me that no matter how strong a man thinks he is, God never designed us to walk life alone. At certain moments in life, God sends people to carry you when your own strength is small.

Looking back now, I realise that the funeral ceremony of my father was not just a moment of mourning. It was also a powerful reminder of the wealth of relationships God has blessed me with. And as we say for Warri, when the time reach, na people go stand for you. ❤️

To everyone who stood with me and my family in prayers, presence, encouragement and support, I saw the gift of men through you.

This morning, my heart is simply full of gratitude. 🙏

"Two are better than one… for if they fall, one will lift up his fellow." — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 ✨

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

MY FATHER'S CARS

 

I was thinking this morning… ☀️ I was in junior secondary school when my dad got his first car. It was a cream Volkswagen Beetle. That was in 1981, six years after Volkswagen started production in Nigeria. Prior to that, he was content with his bicycle. 🚲

He loved his Volkswagen Beetle and cared for it like the other valuables he had. He washed and polished it so often that I began to think he might one day ‘starch’ the car. Years later, he sold the Volkswagen Beetle and bought a Mercedes-Benz 230, this time yellow in colour. He loved his Benz just as much. 🚗✨

My dad’s cars were not simply for mobility; they were also his status signature. I saw how owning the cars made him feel and how they changed his status. Like many of his friends’ children, we joined the class of people who rode to church in our father’s car. ⛪

My grandfather didn’t have a car, but my dad understood the proverb that says a man who drives his father’s car has no authority to sit in a council of men who own bicycles. As a result, he worked hard and made sacrifices so he could own a car and sit with his peers.

As I became an adult and graduated from the university, I never had the privilege of driving my dad’s car. I waited to get a job and make my own sacrifices so I could own my own car. I understood as well that driving my father’s car wouldn’t give me a seat in the council of men who own bicycles.

In 1997, I eventually got my first car, which my cheeky friends later tagged “Kevwe.” According to them, I would always call my mechanic, Kevwe, to be on standby whenever I planned to travel out of town with the vehicle. Can you imagine? 😄

My dad is no longer with us, but I will always remember him and what his cars meant to him. Most importantly, I will never forget the lesson that everything has its time and that one should not borrow to pose. Cutting your coat according to your cloth is one way to put it, but in the context of my dad’s cars, I would say that a man who drives his father’s car has no authority to sit in the council of men who own bicycles. As Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

STOP BLAMING FEBRUARY

 

I was thinking this morning… Phew! February finally ended yesterday and we have majestically marched into a new month. But wait o — what has February done to deserve such a bad reputation?

I once quoted the pidgin proverb that says, “na overconfidence make February no complete.” Only a few days ago, while celebrating a friend’s birthday, I even wrote in my prayer, “Despite say your birthday na for February wey no complete, may your pocket be full like December.”

Why all the negative vibes about February being “incomplete”? To make matters worse, my beloved dad chose February to “travel.” That alone could make anyone side-eye the month. But is February truly the villain we make it out to be?

History tells us that when Numa Pompilius, the second King of Rome, restructured the Roman calendar to align with the 12 lunar cycles, the new year had 355 days. Because Romans considered even numbers unlucky, most months were assigned odd numbers — alternating between 29 and 31 days. But to make the math work, one month had to take the “unlucky” even number: 28. February was chosen.

Why February and not March, May, or January? History doesn’t give us a dramatic reason. It was simply selected. No fault. No crime. Just chosen.

And that is where this reflection truly rests. There are many people like February — individuals who, through no fault of theirs, seem to carry the shorter end of the stick. The blame. The stigma. The hardship. The loss.

I once read a painful story of a struggling single mother of seven in Warri who, out of sheer desperation, abandoned one of her sons at Igbudu Market while pretending to fetch money for garri. The boy cried and wondered, “of the seven of us, why me?” There was no special reason. No unique offence. He was simply the one chosen in that desperate moment.

Life sometimes works that way. Some families carry burdens no one sees. Some employees take blame for systemic failures. Some children grow up under labels they never earned. Some months get mocked for being “incomplete.” But being shorter does not mean being lesser.

So to every “February” out there — those who feel unfairly singled out or were chosen without explanation — you are not defective. You are not unlucky. You are simply part of a bigger design you may not yet understand. Let’s stop using February as a bad example. Because sometimes, what we call incomplete is simply unique.

Psalm 139:14 (NIV) says “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Like everything in nature, nothing is a mistake.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy New Month!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOW

I was thinking this morning… I returned from a trip to Abuja late on Friday, completely scorched and dehydrated by the city’s harsh weather. Honestly, the heat is no joke—anyone who works outdoors there deserves serious respect. I got home eagerly looking forward to the comfort of my air-conditioning.

A few minutes after settling in, the power went out. You know how it is—NEPA took light. My inverter kicked in immediately, but the AC wasn’t connected to it. I wasn’t too bothered; power outages in my area rarely last more than an hour unless there’s a major fault.

One hour passed. Then two. Then three… and four.

Eventually, I resigned myself to a long, uncomfortable night. The fan wasn’t delivering the relief I had hoped for. As I lay there, it struck me that something felt off—I wasn’t hearing the familiar hum of generators from neighbouring houses. Curious, I looked out of the window. To my surprise, everywhere else had light. It turned out the problem wasn’t a general power outage at all—I had simply run out of electricity units. All that while, I had assumed everyone else was experiencing the same discomfort I was.

That moment taught me a powerful lesson: not everything happening to you is happening to everyone. Some challenges are personal, not general.

Yes, things can be hard—but that doesn’t automatically mean everyone is struggling in the same way you are. If I hadn’t looked out of the window, I would have continued blaming the wrong cause and stayed stuck in darkness and discomfort.

So, are you dealing with a disappointment, or you are in darkness? Look out of the window. Take steps to restore your light. And if you observe your neighbour is in darkness out of ignorance, help him to see the way to regain his light. Like a candle, you lose nothing by helping to light another candle.

Matthew 5:16 says "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Sometimes, clarity begins with simply looking out of the window.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

Killing A Killer

 

I was thinking this morning.... The rate of evil in the world is increasing. Stealing, scamming and ritual killing have assumed a frightening dimension. While some vices are carried out under the influence of illicit drugs, which by the way has become an epidemic, others na with their korokoro eyes.

When a killer kills again and again, do you kill the killer to reduce the number of killers in the world? When you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. Pause and think about that statement. Killing a killer will protect his next victim, but it doesn't reduce the number of killers in the world.

When you show love to someone and that person repays you with hate or evil, do you stop loving? As the world celebrated St Valentine's day yesterday, I wondered why evil is increasing rather than love. Be reminded of the words of Matthew 5:44, "But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Let love rule. Kill a killer with true love.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey