DEAD MEN DON'T KEEP APPOINTMENTS

I was thinking this morning.... I was at the airport waiting for my flight to Lagos days ago when my phone chimed. When I checked, I saw a message from a member of my university class, who seldom reaches out. Her first line message 'Not sure if you are already aware' caught my attention. She was still typing when I called her line, just to be informed that one of us had lost her husband in a ghastly motor accident along the Benin-Ore road. 'Our friend is terribly devastated,' she concluded.

Being the coordinator for the class alumni group, I immediately informed the class of the sad news and commenced planning for a team to visit her the next day. Four of us agreed to pay the condolence visit between 11.30 am and 12.30 pm.

I set out early the next day to be able to keep to the agreed time. Unfortunately, due to the unpredictable Lagos traffic, it wasn't until past 12 noon, that we eventually went in to see our friend. She was all tears when she saw us and told us how her beloved husband is no more with her. We mourned with her and did our best to comfort her amidst sobs.

Less than 30 minutes later, I was itching to leave because I had a 2 pm meeting I was to facilitate. As I sat beside our sobbing friend, apologising for having to leave so soon to keep an appointment, I heard a voice in my spirit saying, 'dead men don't keep appointments.' I was yet to fully take in the message when my friend said, 'Hmm! All the appointments my husband had now amounts to nothing.'

As my other friends walked me outside, I finally understood the Togolese proverb that says 'the only woman who knows where her man is every night is a widow.' The message finally sank. Dead men don't keep appointments. As we walked, one of us, who I hadn't seen since we left school 34 years ago, brought up the issue of having periodic re-unions. He had said, 'It's 34 years since we left school. We couldn't find time to come together to celebrate, but have now found time because of a tragedy.' We nodded in agreement even as I again came to the realisation that dead classmates don't do re-unions.

Stay connected. Live happy and give thanks in all circumstances. 1st Thes 5:18.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy New Month!

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

Mama! Na Boy O!

 

I was thinking this morning... It was a normal day at work as I walked with some friends towards the staff canteen. As we approached, another colleague walking out of the canteen saw me and said loudly, "Mama! Na boy o." I immediately responded, "Na boy o." He followed up saying, "The boys don become men o." The friends I was with looked at us, wondering what our coded language meant. As I walked along smiling, I recalled how it all began.

It was a cool Saturday morning on the island of Bonny. We started our day like any other day and were preparing for the day when my young wife went into labour. I immediately drove her to the hospital in the residential area where we lived. As the nurses wheeled her into the delivery room, I found out two other colleagues had also brought their wives for delivery. As the medical personnel did their thing, the three would-be fathers held their breath while waiting by the corridor.

After about 30 minutes (one of the longest in my life), the door to the delivery room opened and a nurse walked out and announced to me that my young wife had given birth to a baby boy. Overwhelmed with joy and with my co-expectant fathers congratulating me, I picked up my phone to announce the good news to my parents in Warri. As my mum picked up at the first ring, I announced with glee, "Mama! Na boy o."

My colleagues with me laughed at my chosen mode of announcement. This was because "Mama! Na boy o" was a popular 2003 MTN advert at the time. It happened that the wives of my other colleagues also gave birth to boys the same day. That day was exactly 20 years ago last Wednesday. Twenty years after, we still greet each other with "Mama! Na boy o."

"Mama! Na boy o!" is not just a playful greeting between two fathers; rather, it's a reminder of the faithfulness of God. It's a reminder that it doesn't matter how long the night is, joy comes in the morning (Psalms 30:5). It's a reminder that if you stay the course, all things will fall into place. Though the boys of yesterday have become men today, the event of October 22, 2005, will always remind me of "Mama! Na boy o."

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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

BREAKING 27 BONES

 

I was thinking this morning..... Last Friday, I attended the funeral mass in honour of the mother of a colleague. When I saw the crowd that came from all over the world to honour this great woman, I was pleased because I learnt long ago that the labour pain women experience during child birth is equivalent to breaking 27 bones in the human body at the same time. Yes! 27 bones. How is that possible? I couldn't argue with it because I have never and will never be delivered of a baby. How can anyone survive that threshold of pain?

But wait o, if the pain of childbirth is equivalent to breaking 27 bones, what will make a woman be willing to experience the pain of breaking 270 bones (10 children)? I was trying to imagine the pain, but then I remembered the saying that Pikin wey think say he fit use his tongue count his teeth na headache go kill am, and I gave up.

Breaking 27 bones was on my mind when I recalled an event that occurred while I was living with my aunt on campus years ago. She had driven out for shopping that day and unfortunately had an incident with another vehicle. Apparently, the man driving the other vehicle physically assaulted her. She came home that day in tears. I had never seen her cry before. While her husband raged and paced, wanting to rush to town to kill the man that dared to slap his wife, I sat quietly wondering why a sane man would raise his hand to hit a woman. A woman who had endured the pain of breaking 27 bones.

Incidences of domestic violence on women seem to be increasing, with the latest being the celebrity actor accusing her billionaire husband of beating her. Some women have even lost their lives from this. I still don't understand why some men disrespect or worse, beat their wives. Meanwhile, these same men will never do the same against their fellow men. Like we say in Warri, 'If spirit no dey fear, why dem dey waka for night?' As a man, if you are tempted to assault a woman, first step back and consider if you can endure the pain of breaking 27 bones.

I can not imagine disrespecting my young wife, who has endured the pain of breaking a total of 81 bones. 1st Peter 3:7 says, 'Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honour unto the wife.' I kowtow for all mothers around the world and encourage all men to honour their wives.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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

A NIGHT OF INSPIRATION

 

I was thinking this morning.... On Friday night, we were all gathered at the Eko Hotel Convention Centre for the 2025 NLNG Grand Award Night, where the winners of the Nigeria Prize for Science and Nigeria Prize for Literature were to be unveiled. This year's event was themed 'Inspire' from the NLNG tagline 'Inspiring a sustainable future.' It was truly a night of inspiration.

As I walked into the passageway to the Convention Centre, I was immediately wowed by the tropical forest themed decors. The passageway was completely transformed. The lush green designs adorned with fresh plants, green carpet, sculptures of birds and hippo and the enclosure infused with sounds of animals in a forest, gave an immersive 4D experience akin to being in the thick of the rainforest and could inspire you to wish you lived in the forest as a Park ranger or as a minimum, you will inspired to embrace nature afresh.

It was truly a night of glitz and glam as everyone showed up dressed in white. The white pure, no be small. The belief by some women that 'men go stain your white' was debunked as the white of all the women in the room were spotless. White suit, white kaftan, and white traditional outfits, all blended with the neon lights in a way that will inspire you to want to be an angel. At least, if to be angel, no hungry you, at least you for hungry to be a member of Celestial church. Las las we all were more like angels with swagger.

The highlight of the night was the announcement of the book Sanya by Oyin Olugbile as the winner of the 2025 edition of The Nigeria Prize for Literature, clinching one of Africa’s most prestigious literary honour valued at $100,000. Omo! The amount did not hit home until I converted it to naira. Then it sunk. She has just won a whooping N150 million in one night. At this point, I was inspired to be a writer. At least if I can not write novels, I can write sermons. After all, na village wey native doctor know, e dey disappear.

I left the venue that night fully inspired and believing I was a superman. Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Don't settle for less. Be inspired.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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

THE STREETS THAT RAISED ME: OLD WARRI REVISITED

 

I was thinking this morning..... Yesterday, I was in Warri for a wedding and decided to visit the neighbourhood I grew up. Beginning from Mission road, I walked past First Baptist Church, where I first experienced what it meant to serve God. I recalled how, as Royal Ambassadors, we did our parade in the open field between the old and new church buildings. It was a nostalgic feeling.

On Okere Road, I took a detour through Nelson Williams Street. Coming out at Ogboru Street, I connected Father Healy Street and stopped over at 6 Ogboru Street where I was born. Standing in front of the compound, I reminisced on how we played in the open spaces of 6 Ogboru and 15a and 15b Father Healy streets. It was pure joy.

I continued my tour, entering Okandeji Street, where most of the buildings, though still standing after 50 years, are now a shadow of themselves. There is a complete absence of urban renewal effort in the neighbourhood, making it look like the relic of a ghetto. I shuddered as I saw waste water and sewage in open drains flow across streets and compounds. Yet, with the danger lurking around, I observed a number of kids, full of life, running around with unbridled joy, confirming the saying that "Rat wey die on top bag of rice no be hunger kill am, na over excitement."

Next, I branched into Ometan Street and walked towards Bazunu Road. When I got to Chief Edewor's compound, I was held captive. The building has been excellently maintained and looked exactly like I knew it over 45 years ago. The statue of the man carrying a bunch of palm fruit (banga) on his head still stands strong on the first floor verandah of the white storey building. It reminded me of the years I walked through that road to the Igbudu market.

On my return, I passed through Ginuwa Road connecting Omatsola Crescent. Walking through Torufa Primary school reminded me of my primary school days when we used to eat jolojolo. I connected back to Okere Road, joined Robert Road, and ended at my beloved Mowoe Primary school. All the joy I felt quickly disappeared when I saw that Mowoe Primary School is now an abandoned grassland.

With tears in my eyes, I recalled the sweet and sour memories I have of my days at Mowoe. I recalled how 'catching abaka' (grasshoppers) behind my class gave me a deep cut that left a large scar on my left foot till today. If there is a lesson from my tour, it is the reinforcement of the pidgin English proverb that says, "Table no dey turn, na who get sense dey change chair." I am grateful for the streets that raised me, but despite changing chairs, I pray those streets remain fertile (Psalms 85:12).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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

39 GREEN BOTTLES

I was thinking this morning..... Last week, a close friend turned 20 for the third time and decided to celebrate with friends and some of his secondary school mates. While we gisted, he revealed the motivation behind his celebration. He said, "Last year, my year group in college had gathered for a re-union after about 39 years of leaving college. When we came together, we decided to do a roll call to know where everyone was. By the time we were done, we discovered 39 of our mates had passed on."

While 39 dead in 39 years was an interesting coincidence, the number got me thinking. In the early and mid-1980s, when they were in college, it was common for secondary schools in Southern Nigeria to have an average of 30-40 students per class. That means if all 39 of their departed mates were in the same class and they were having a re-union yearly, by this year, there would've been no one left from that class. In 39 years, a full class of students had passed on. Wow!

As I mused, I recalled the kiddies song we sang while growing up. "Ten green bottles hanging on the wall. Ten green bottles hanging on the wall. And if one green bottle should accidentally fall down. There'll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall." And so it goes until it gets to zero bottle. As my friends continued talking, I couldn't help but hear the variant of that song in my head. "39 bright students sitting in a class" (2×). If one bright student should unfortunately pass on. 38 bright students sitting in a class (2x)." And the countdown continued.

Life is a precious gift that often feels endless when we are young, but time quickly reminds us that it is fleeting. Every year we are alive is a chance to commit to living with purpose. When classmates gather, whether after five, ten, or even thirty-nine years, it should be more than nostalgia—it should be gratitude for the gift of still being among the living. Because na footballer wey ball dey im leg camera dey follow.

Many shy away from college re-unions because they feel their success will be guaged. Instead of measuring success by wealth or titles, we must measure it by the joy of being present, of laughing together, of creating new memories. To still be alive, breathing, and connecting is worth more than gold (Psalms 19:10).

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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

PROBLEM, WHERE ARE YOU?

 

I was thinking this morning..... Early last week, I had a late morning flight to catch and decided to get to the airport two hours earlier so I could settle in and join a meeting scheduled for an hour before the flight. I got a quiet room in the VIP lounge and went about my business. While there, my mind was heavy with pressing needs and delayed expectations.

A short while later, a group of passengers came into the lounge. Amongst them was a couple with two young children. From the smiles on the faces of most of the people, it felt like I was the only person with problems. Just then, the little boy started screaming on top of his lungs. His dad attempted to calm him down, but no luck. Another lady in the group joined in, even as the little boy became violent. It was obvious he was in the autistic spectrum. Omo. After just a few minutes, I got a glimpse of what this young couple goes through daily. I literally sat back, looked around me, and asked, "Where is my problem?" My problem had disappeared in the face of the bigger problems of the couple.

In my humility, or should I say 'humbility', I recalled how I was worrying about raising money for a need weeks ago. While I worried, we received heart-wrenching news of how a friend had lost his 20-year-old son in an unfortunate incident. I thought I had problems, but when that sad news hit, I sighed and asked, "Where is my problem?"

If you are stressing about your children not winning awards at school or not having money or a job, just visit a few parents with autistic children, or parents managing a child with sickle cell anaemia, you will not only salute the grace of God upon their lives but also leave there looking for what you thought were your problems and asking yourself 'Problem, where are you?'.

Sometimes, we are so myopic, thinking the world is against us, ignorant of the serious pain others are in. We think we are the only ones having problems. Everyone is going through life with one challenge or another. Don't carry yours like a badge of honour. Be grateful for life and for your children (1 Thes 5:18). I pray for more grace upon parents of kids with special needs and that soon they shall look around and ask, 'Problem, where are you?'.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

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