The students of St. Cornelius Methodist High School were on the assembly ground ready to exercise assembly activities. The boys were well dressed, looking attractive in their dark-blue shirt with shorts and the girls in pinafore. They do press their uniforms during the weekend break with some of them applying perfume to smell pleasant.

On Monday morning like this, they wake very early to arrive school in time in order to tidy up their school compound and then get set for the day’s work. This was what Mr. James Alfred had made obligatory for them since he resumed as their principal about two years ago.

Esulaalu was what the students had nicknamed him. He was short and dark like the outer surface of a local pot. He was strict and a disciplinarian. The teachers too knew him. He did correct them as if they were his students. Hence the cognomen.

This was name the students chorused when they saw him out of his office, coming to conduct the assembly this morning.

“He’s coming….is coming”

“Esu is coming…” They broadcast.

A long silence beckoned. At this moment, no one dare utter a letter. Even the teachers were wet as he approached.
In most schools around, Monday was a day that students usually look forward to, but in St. Cornelius the story was never the same. Their difficult times started immediately it’s Monday. At 6:00am, Mr. Alfred would have been in school, standing by the school gate once it’s 7:00am. Any student that came in a second afterward is a late comer. He had organized the number of strokes according to the minutes exceeded. His strokes started from five. No crime no matter how small can make him go below that.
Their hard times would soon continue on the assembly ground, especially on Mondays which he did conduct.

“Good morning…sir”. The students chorused.

“Good morning sir. Morning sir.” The teachers uttered. As if they had hot yam in their mouth, the only thing one could hear was ‘sir’

Like that of a roaring lion, slowly he replied ‘what is good about the morning! What?’ He asked.

With a thick mass of hair on his fore-head, he commanded the students to recite the national anthem after a thorough examination on their neatness.

“At ease”. He echoed.


‘The national anthem. 1, 2, 3…go!’

He stood like a general, so also the teachers. Reciting the song with the students with his eyes traveling all around. They were almost ending the anthem when his eyes landed onYakubu’s. The last boy on theSS1 line. Though he stood like others but what he was uttering wasn’t the national anthem. Mr. Alfred studied him well but did as if he noticed him not. After the recitation of the national pledge, the students hailed. Yakubu too. Had he knew, he wouldn’t have wasted his healthy voice on mere hailing as what would make him shout than he ever did was here.

“OkunolaYakubu, come out here”. The principal ordered.

Yakubu was no longer himself. The just merry of the national anthem had travelled at the speed of light. He had not gone for swimming neither had he ran a marathon but his body suggested he did. Sweats all over his body, down to his pant.

“This boy, while you’re all reciting the national anthem, he was there joining his mandible and maxilla together, pronouncing rubbish”.

“ si..r”.

He could not complete his statement when a resounding slap landed on his cheek.Holy-ghost slap. That was what the student called such and the recipient, holy receiver. For about one-to-two minutes, stars of kinds had let his retina. He began staggering like a drunk or rather one, searching in the dark. The students were lost laughter. They ought not, but they couldn’t help it.

‘What nonsense!’ roared the principal.

‘I was talking and you had the gut to interrupt. Oh! That I lied against you?


‘So let’s hear you then’.

Yakubu was totally confused. He knew he was now in two problem; that he could not recite the national anthem and that he had made the principal wear his original behavior.
He stood like a soldier with his hand visiting his face time without number, cleaning the frequent-dropping tears. He knew he cannot escape it.
What made him always at the back wasn’t because he was the tallest in his class, it was actually because of fear. He believed anyone stranding at the front should be bright as questions were often thrown to those at the front and he was never one.

‘Arise O Compation…’ he echoed, with a cracking voice.

The students again raised the laughter. Some of the teachers too showed their upper teeth in a jiffy. Yet all these could not move Mr. Alfred to even smiling, rather, he floggedYakubu eighteen strokes of the cane, instructing him to learn the song before the week ran out. Afterward, he addressed the students and they all marched into their various classes.

The classes were so noisy. Mr. Alfred would not exhibit annoyance that quickly. After all, they just marched in. he would think.

you never know

The football match played on Sunday night was the major discussion in SS1, where Yakubu belonged. The game that featured Chelsea FC against FC Barcelona. The final match of the UEFA champions league. The Barcelona football team took the early lead but their opponent eventually defeated them form 2-0 down. Hence the match ended 2-4 with the blues as they’re fondly called becoming the new UEFA champion
The result did not favour Yakubu. He could hardly sleep throughout the Sunday night. On Friday, before they went on weekend break, he had had a bet with Maduka that Barcelona would defeat Chelsea. He said Messi would bag hat-trick, Neymar brace so also Suarez. All that Yakubu said on Friday seemed true to Maduka. He knew Messi too well. Neymar and Suarez were as well dangerous, but with one mind, he believed anything can happen.
It’s Monday now and it’s Maduka’s turn to brag. Immediately he entered the class he had started shouting, hailing his team and punching his own chest. Everyone believed it was worth it except the girls. They did not know why he should be doing all those. Some of them were already saying they’d report him to the principal if he continued.
To avoid being ridiculed, some of the boys whose teams didn’t reach the final had joined Maduka in celebration. Whenever he echo ‘Up blues’ they would all chorus ‘For life’. All these Yakubu could not withstand but was pretending until Maduka did it to fault. He roamed to his seat, displaying the money they used as bet before him, making it touch his nose and other parts of his face.
No!Yakubu could not take that. He stood in annoyance and slapped him, immediately, they began fighting.

Mrs.Bankole was entering their class to take them English language when she saw the duo on the floor. All efforts made by their class mates to stop the fight did not materialize. But as soon as she entered, they voluntarily released each other.

‘Shio…Olodo’ saidMaduka.

‘It’s only fight that he knows, simple national anthem he could not recite’


He said all these with his heart beat beating like a drum. He was not happy with his performance for it was obvious Yakubu punched him more. Also, the rate at which their mates hailed Yakubu had revealed to him he lost.
‘Why are you fighting for goodness sake, why? MrsBankole asked.

‘Don’t even bother to tell me anything, ok? Just follow me to the principal’s office. Now!’. She said with her head moving as if it would fall. She was skinny and lacked adequate strength. All the strength shehad was to go to the class, fill the air with vocabulary and phonetics while teaching.

‘You again! Mr. Alfred roared.

‘In fact, the boy is now becoming a terror in this school’ said Mrs.Bankole with a light voice like that of a little child.

‘You know it’s not up to 10 minutes that I gave you eighteen strokes of the cane, you’re here again alleged of bad behaving’. Said the principal, pointing atYakubu on the floor where he had knelt.

‘Please, I want to know what actually happened. I’ve got a lot to do’. The principal enquired.

Maduka dusted his trousers as he stood to explain what he believed that happened. He said all in his own favour as he knew Yakubu is deaf to English.
When he finished, Mr. Alfred turned toYakubu to hear what he had to say. He was out of the planet as it was his turn to speak. He knew he need not ask whether he would explain in English. Yet, he had something to say.

‘Sir, he’s rude’. He said, confidently.

‘Rude?’ The principal said, as if he had not heard him clearly.
Yakubu thought he was incorrect so he changed his mind.

‘Yes Sir, he’s ruded’

‘What!Ruded? The principal said, amazed. Mrs.Bankole gasped. Maduka’s mouth wide opened.

In a short while,Yakubu had thought of many timesMaduka played rude to him and therefore he suggested to join them all together.

‘Will you speak good English! Mrs.Bankole roared.

‘Yes ma. He’s …he’s rudeded.

Mr. Alfred was totally frustrated. He did not know whether he was to stand or sit.Yakubu’s last statement almost cut his intestines. He later told Mrs.Bankole andMaduka to leave for the class. But for Yakubu, he gave him punishment after severe beating. He did not allow him enter the class room throughout the day. No food. Nothing.

‘No food for the idle’ Mr. Alfred thought.

When the ‘closing time’ time bell rang, it was as if Yakubu was thrown into an ice. He knew his suffering was over as it would be rare if Esu took him to his house to continue the punishment.
With a rocky voice but a friendly face, Mr. Alfred welcomed Yakubu back to freedom after six hours in discomfort.
He was very weak and sober. He fell as he practiced to walk. All his body parts could not obey him.

‘Who told you you’re not correct in the first place? The principal asked.

Yakubu was not interested in anything he had to say. He thought he had punished him for nothing and now trying to make plea. He sneezed constantly with mucus escaping his watery nose. His eyes red and back-bone, paining.

‘Your first sentence was actually right’ Mr. Alfred continued.

‘You lacked confidence in what you knew and you ended saying jargon which had made you suffer this way. Wellgoodluck in your endeavor. You can leave now’.

Yakubu could not believe his ears. He can’t just believe he suffered for something he knew. He pitied himself as he walked out of his office.

‘I never knew I ever know’. He said, weeping



I  was born on 19th Feb. 1996. I hail from Ikire the land of Dodo, Osun state. I attended Holy Cross Catholic Primary School, Ikire. Having graduated, I was admitted to  Saint Augustine’s Commercial Grammar School where I was elected as the Social prefect boy of my set. I was then one of the competitors group, a group said to be the community of the intellectuals. Having succeeded in the secondary school, I opted to study Medicine in the great citadel of knowledge; The Lagos State University, Ojo which was successful but to a different course, Physics.



She Held My Hand

“Am leaving now”, she said. Everybody knew what that meant. It meant she had done her part and would therefore very much wish to be excused so that she attended to her other schedules. Who could have blamed her when everybody was leaving? Besides, we had by this time reached the final phase of our work. “Thank you so much for the service you have rendered, it really means a lot and we do appreciate”. That was the Chief Executive Officer commending her input as far as  project implementation  was concerned. However, being a kind of girl she was, she made sure to shake hands with everybody as a way of saying goodbye. So it happened that I was the last and that was it.

It was in the way she held my hand. It must have lasted for eternity and it spoke more than the silence which enveloped our souls. She deliberately interlocked her hand  with mine and caressed my palm. She then looked deep into my eyes again and smiled, this time blushing. I retained that gaze in the most excellent way, but her eyes so  watery and lazy, made me propound that she must have been raised in a faraway planet. Still looking deep into her eyes, I noticed something very exquisite…she had that longing to be with me. Sadly, I was just a poet and could anything good come from a poet?

It was in the way she held my hand

It was in the way she held my hand

But something good came from a poet that day, at least he expressed how he had felt when her soft hand found her way into his palm. The message I sent her that night must have caught her by surprise, for her response revealed something that I never knew existed in her hearts of hearts. She said I was the guy she always came to see, I was the guy she was so eager to go out with even if that meant giving up her job. Besides, it was only part time and the reason she had not quickly accepted full time employment at another reputable organisation unlike our own was that she had the faintest belief of capturing my attention. All she ever wanted was to see me everyday, to pass through my office and extend greetings so cozy and incalculable. I recollected all those cold mornings she brought  coffee to my office, I used to think it was just a virtue of her being a partner and she did that in the name of professionalism. I regretted all of the moments I had misconstrued her gestures for friendship for she expected more.

Questions started puzzling my mind, did she really have any idea how much dumbstruck her splendour made me feel all the times we were together? Did she at any point in time, recognize how

in all our conversations I was always the one who talked less and did more of the staring? That should have granted her the clue that I was interested in her perhaps even more than she was in me.

Nevertheless, it was in the way she held my hand that day which became a determining factor of our remaining years on earth for we vowed to spend them together….and we did.

Retelling the story as it was last week and the continuation will continue after this continuation)

By me, The God Centered Poet


Wisdom Henry Magomero Uledi Studied Law at Staff Development Institute in Blantyre, Malawi. He is now The Publicity Secretary For The Church of Central Africa Presbyterian Youth Urban Ministry (CCAPYUM) resident in Malawi’s Capital, Lilongwe. The Spoken Word Poet is sobriqueted as “The God Centered Poet” For His recitals do the linking of souls by bringing them to Christ,in heavens wing..




In the heart of Miami, the heavens wept all night and the cold atmosphere with its chill was enough to send anyone back to bed.  For Smith, it was another day to go to school. He loathed Mr. Nelson’s Mathematics class and whenever Miss Kathryn enters the class he wished the heavens would fall and bring the class to an abrupt end. Biology and Mathematics classes were just so boring and uninspiring to Smith.

Smith Harrison, a young handsome precocious boy of thirteen years old was considered a geek and bookworm by many of his friends due to his brilliance and his pair of white-rimmed medicated glasses. He was from one of the most influential families in Florida. Smith was a fragile kid for his age who got the attention of his teachers through his intelligence and wits when it comes to Public Speaking. He was however bullied by many of his mates and seniors because of the jealousy and hatred they have against him.

They would sometimes steal his notes, strip him of his money and valuables. Amidst all these persecutions meted out against him,  he would never retaliate neither did he say a word against his oppressors.  He was such a gentle boy who never had the penchant for complaints or excuses for failure. His quiescent nature and gentle mien began to unsettle his bullies but they could not stop because they enjoyed what they were doing. At the end of every session, he established himself as an enviable Jewel during the Prize-giving ceremonies as he won awards like a hunter scooping honey after stumbling on a bee hive.

The joy of family

The joy of family

A different boy emanates from the personality of Smith at home,  he was specially loved by his parents because he was the first born of the family. He was however a source of serious concern for his parents as he always behaved unruly at home and vented his anger on his siblings at any slightest chance. He would sometimes flog Janet and slap Jack times without number.  He gave the family an impression that all was not well with him. His busy father and his industrious mother were always occupied with one official assignment or the other and the best way they understood love was to send their children to good schools,  get good clothes for them and give them money when the need arises. Confusion exists in decoding how heartless and wicked Smith who causes chaos in the family of the Harrisons comes back home with brilliant grades at the end of the session. Loved by teachers in school but a source of hate at home. Such contrasting characters baffles the mind.

On this fateful day, Dr. Harry Harrison decided to find out what happens in the High School whenever Smith was away from home. At around closing time, Harry dressed in his three-piece suit alighted majestically from his tinted Black Cadillac,  his steps were like that of a Prince who was about to wed the most beautiful lady in town. To his utmost surprise, he spotted his son at a corner beside the school laboratory being maltreated and beaten by bullies. He removed his dark shades and rushed towards the scene. Panting and sprinting like an Olympic sprinter,  he rescued his son from Stanley and Joe. He handed the bullies over to the principal. He was however overwhelmed with tears as he realized how much he has neglected his son.

Harry begged for forgiveness and promised to be a concerned father who would give more attention and care to his children. He made it a personal responsibility and not that of the drivers to check on his children in school; pick them up from school and also give them surprise visits.

Smith soon became that good boy both in school and at home. He was envied by many for his intelligence and comportment which was rare for children of his age.


P.S.: “Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.” – English philosopher, John Locke

A call to parenthood is a call to responsibility and most notably be toyed with if the next generation is expected to boom with greatness.


Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems.

He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.

Coming up on May 1 in University of Ibadan

Coming up on May 1 in University of Ibadan




As the Christmas bells rang with euphoria in the valleys of Arizona, the whole city was agog with the celebration.  The squawking chickens were slaughtered without mercy as they were roasted for meals. It was time for all and sundry to feast on their favorite meals.

Despite the wild celebrations in the city, the house of the Williams was drenched in utter gloom as the Father of the house,  Dr. Drake Williams was lying seriously ill, close to the point of death on his sick bed. It was dead into the night on the Boxing Day,  the room of Drake was well lit with the incandescent bulb hanging above and the refreshing breeze flooded the room from the windows.


Keep digging!

Keep digging!


Sitting at the bedside of Drake was his only son, Dennis. Dennis held on to his father with all his being since he had lost his mother to cervical cancer at the age of ten. The only memory of his mother left with him were the fragments of care and kindness she offered him while she was alive.

At this time when Dennis was about to get married to his beautiful fiancee, Yvonne, these were really trying times for him. He was really hoping for the support of his father as regards his wedding. All his father could boast of was a bungalow built on a plot of land with a beautiful garden at the backyard. Dr. Drake had spent most of his time working on the garden during his lifetime especially after his compulsory retirement.

The searing pain which came from the fangs of death gripped Drake as he gasped for air.  Dennis’ face was red and swollen after sleepless nights full of crying. Dennis knew that this was the time for his Father to leave for the great beyond. As Dr. Drake was about to breath his last he kept pointing towards his brown velvet suit hanging in a corner, he pointed like one who wanted to say something. All of a sudden,  Drake was gone as his heart stopped. Grief and weariness overcame Dennis but he managed to get to the suit.

He searched all the pockets of the suit like one searching for a precious pearl. He found a small paper folded as a pocket square. He unwrapped it and exposed what was written in it.  It was in big bold capital letters: “CULTIVATE THE GARDEN”.

After the funeral rites,  Dennis started tilling the garden with his energy and vigor. After weeks of cultivating the garden,  he was getting frustrated. Two weeks to his wedding, on this fateful day; Dennis was tilling the soil and his hoe struck something strange, he struck a sack of sand. He brought it out,  opened it and lo and behold, there were stacks of MONEY!!!

Dennis was wowed and that was the beginning of an overturn of his fortunes. He later became one of the richest men of Arizona and was happily married to Yvonne as they raised a happy family.

P.S.: This purely fictional and the creative thoughts of the writer. Please note that TREASURES ARE KEPT IN CHESTS,

© 2015 Osho Samuel Adetunji



Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems. He is a great thinker, creative and dexterous young man who does not only believe in excellence but also extols the tenets of discipline, hard work and effectiveness.

He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.




The gentle breeze from the ocean whistled past the shores after the waves pushed ripples of water to hit the bank, the whooshing sound of the waves, the honking of the ships and yelling of the sailors planning for their next trip permeated the atmosphere. The port of Rotterdam is one of the largest ports in the world, always busy with different kinds of activities. Several licensed companies generated income from the port; one of them is Jeffrey’s Marina which provided shelter for tens of thousands of small fishing boats used by the local fishermen and tourists for occasional fishing.

Exhausted from the haste to meet up with the early morning schedule, legs heavy as lead and thighs stiff as a board, Ruth Van Bowen trudged and panted for air as she entered the gates of the Rotterdam Port. She has got 15 minutes more to make it to office as the early morning briefing starts by 8:00am prompt. Ruth, a conscientious twenty-five year old lady was known by her superiors as one of the brilliant heads running Jeffrey’s Marina; outspoken, bold, brainy all masked by a beautiful face. She had little or no respect for her subordinates or anyone considered to be a dullard, only individuals of her caste kept up with her as friends.

At 7:52am, she was just some few metres away from her Marina when she heard screams
“Help!!!!!! ”

She snapped her head back as she turned to look for the person in need. As her deep blue eyes scanned the area, she spotted a tearful bald-headed man trapped in a building gutted by flames. She was shocked and bewildered wondering how a stranger could have the guts to scream to her for help. The man was on the second floor of the three-storey building as he pointed towards the garage door on the ground floor amidst his hysterical screams for help. Dressed in his under wears as he had used his suit and trousers as a coat of protection through the sweltering flames and his fair-complexioned skin was darkened by the black soot from the flames. Ruth dressed impeccably in a white trouser suit, a red Italian hand bag and a pair of red high-heel shoes looked at him without an iota of pity. Pointed at the man with her finger and pointed also at her wrist watch meaning there is no luxury of time for such help. The irritating clicking of the high-heeled shoes as they hit the kerb signalled the majestic catwalk of Ruth as she headed for her office. She is a stickler for ostentatious gestures to display her pride. Barely a month ago, her closest friend, Jane told her about her obvious pride and disregard for the common-looking folks only to answer her in a rude way:
“I know that I am proud, I love it because I do get results and it gives me attention. I love the attention!!! ” she blurted out.
She however made it to the office by 7:58am and the click of her card in the identity recognition panel at the entrance granted her access into the building.



Two weeks later

The colorful ceremony which rocked Rotterdam hosted people from different walks of life, it was the unveiling of the new board members of Jeffrey’s Marina. A new board after a decade was drenched in wild celebrations. Due to her excellent communication skills,  Ruth was beckoned up by the Planning Committee to anchor the programme alongside one of her admirers, Smith Campbell. As the programme dragged to its beautiful end, it was time for the annual awards.

The New CEO of Jeffrey’s Marina, Dr. Sonck Van Gogh dressed in his cream-colored Tuxedo walked majestically to the podium. This is the first time in the history of the company that the position of the CEO was advertised externally and produced a CEO who is new to the system. The time everyone had being waiting painstakingly for finally came.

“The award of the best staff of the year goes to no other person than an efficient, humble, hardworking and compassionate fellow who had not only discharged his duties properly but also represented this company well to the outside world. Give it up for Mr. Frederick Douglas.” Sonck gladly announced.

With heads swinging and faces lost in awe, Fred, a rookie and one of the most unlikely guys to land an award in his first year marched to meet Van Gogh in the middle of the hall amidst resounding roar of applause. As he made his way back to his seat, Sonck’s voice filled the air:

“The motto of Jeffrey’s Marina is? ” he asked.
“Service and humility” the mammoth crowd responded.

“This young man bagged the award for saving my life and that of my three beautiful daughters two weeks ago from a building lost in a gust of flames. It was a show of love, bravery, humility and service to humanity. The company’s name was mentioned honorably in the media because one of our employees saved a stranger in dire need of help. Funny enough the alien has now found his to the top of the company.”

Obsessed with the dreams of winning the award for the past three weeks, doom finally struck as her shoulders sagged and head plunged down surveying the glistening tiles of the floor. With the award gone and Van Gogh as the new CEO,  this was definitely the end…..

© 2015 by Osho Samuel Adetunji

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