Dear GMB

Dear GMB,

I trust all is well with you? Certainly yes, considering that you are now the President after many failed attempts. I mean I can’t become the President now and all won’t be well. No struggling to get a bus, bike or keke, no thought for what I’ll eat or who will prepare it, no electricity brouhaha. Well, I became your supporter in 2011 when you made Pastor Tunde Bakare your VP.  A shrewd and fearless lawyer Man of God who is not afraid of saying the truth and criticising our selfless fish and inhumane politicians. Prior to that time I never really took you serious. It was your choice of VP that lead me to find out for myself who the man GMB was after the numerous propaganda your oppositions came up with. My discoveries then solidified my interest in you and I began to hope that you get the opportunity to become the President soon.

Fast forward to the time you won the APC presidential ticket and you declared Prof. Osinbajo as your VP my heart lept for joy once again having had the opportunity to hear him speak several times. Prof. Osinbajo has depth and I believed you stood a better chance provided PDP’s rigging would be curtailed and it was. And I for once believed that a new Nigeria has been born.

Mr President sir, Nigerians have suffered and are still suffering. Almost everything that can go wrong went wrong under this last administration. No light yet electricity bill kept increasing, no fuel yet fuel prices is on the increase. The roads are bad yet we pay more to use these roads in taxes and levies. It is my belief that you are aware of the root cause of these problems and by now a lot of people have, are and will still suggest to you what they think is the way out. You have to be careful as most of them have hidden agendas.

I’m not writing to tell you what to do or how you should go about what you plan to do. All I want to say is that you should as much as possible and as you showed during your campaign stay in touch with the realities of the people.
Quite a number of people still don’t believe in you as a result of your time as the military ruler but you have the opportunity to sway these people to your side while you make the people that are with you happier.

In my opinion you don’t have to fix it all at once. You can pick 2 or 3 areas to focus on while you lay a good foundation in the other areas for the next administration to build on.

One key element lacking in leadership in this part of the world is continuity. Even Sir Alex Ferguson of Manchester United made that mistake.They say a leader is not successful until his successor becomes a success. Even if you plan to spend 2 terms in office, it is not too late for you to start mentoring young Nigerians that can build on your success because a bad successor can destroy your legacies.

I think I should stop for now so I do not bore you with my lengthy letter. I intend to keep writing you as you lead us to the promised land we all desire.

Your’s faithfully,

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Retrace, Coming Back…………

Okay Eeerrrmmm where do i start from

This is going to be more of a rant than anything substantial but i’m hopeful it will touch or wake up something in you…… I have gone astray. I have killed so many dreams on the inside of me while in pursuit of another dream which is not good. Between the last time I put up a post here and today. I have written a hundred and one post that will benefit a lot of people in my mind, one of my younger brothers has enrolled for MSc. and has finished, another one is almost completing two degrees, GEJ has almost ruined Nigeria and is handing over very soon, I have travelled between Lagos and PH several times, I have changed jobs, I have fallen in Love and almost fell out.

Suddenly, in Dbanj’s Voice after almost falling out of love, I came to the realization that i haven’t been living rather i have been in existence. So much I could have done that would have made me better between then and now that I haven’t done. I have put my life on auto-pilot until i almost fell out of love.

I narrated my story to a friend that has always known me and she was like….. Isaiah not my real name, your life has changed for the worse, you have to get back. It was then I realized that some of the thoughts I didn’t put in writing would have helped me even if it didn’t help any other person.

As I try to gather my self back and do a rework on myself and my life, pls if you see me on the road, epp help me. That is all i need.

Thank you.


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Wrote it in 2013, Published in 2015

2013 – Ara nbe ti mo fe da
To ba lo fi oju di mi, wa so da
Lo sodo Baba to mo ejo da
Jowo support mi ka le hammer daa daa.

Eni ba wipe oun ko ni je ki nlo
The Rock of Ages ma bami lo
In lasgidi, we say no stopping, jowo paro lo
Until I make it, any opposition Jesu, bami lo.

Very soon e ma wa bami dupe
Lodo Baba ti ko gba anything, yato si ope
To ba de believe wipe mi o ni make e, wa pe to ope
In your presence ma te pepe ope
Finally, iyawo mi a wa ma je Ope. Moji

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Are Rape Victims To Blame For Their Predicament?

YES Because:
By dressing provocatively, being promiscuous, encouraging male attention with overt flirting and teasing, drinking excessively and by knowingly placing themselves in situations where they can be attacked like walking a deserted path home, some women
consciously place themselves in danger of being sexually assaulted and are partly to blame.

To use a common comparison, if a man walks down a dark alley in a rough neighborhood with his money clip out, or engaging in other ostentatious displays of wealth, would we say he was completely without responsibility if he were robbed? We would likely conclude that while it was not his fault, and while he did not deserve it, he does bare some responsibility for putting himself in such a situation. On the other hand, he might be robbed in his driveway.

Similarly, the fact that some women are raped in circumstances in which they bear no responsibility does not absolve others who put themselves at risk of bearing some small amount of

NO Because:
If it were true that the fashion of the day was the reason for the rape of women – then how could it be that rape exists in countries where women are not dressing according to western
fashions. Does every attractive young woman become a victim of rape? No that is not a logical reason to suggest that Rape Victims are partly to blame. What could we say of an elderly woman or man who is raped by those who commit these crimes.

The reality is that no woman or man is going to knowingly place themselves in a situation of seeking rape. But there are many who are raped because of other situations – such as not being able to afford safe public transport – having no option but to
walk a lonely path home. Sure there are cases where the social situation seems to contribute but it is not the environment but the rapist who commits the crime.

The affirmative argument has but one purpose to allow rapists and those who sympathize with them the opportunity to feel as the victims of a crime. Feeling encouraged or in a good position to commit a crime isn’t an excuse to commit a crime.

YES Because:
A victim should fight their rapist or try to resist, as if they didn’t they could have been seen as consenting or consenting at the time and regretting it later on. If rape is about violence and control and not about sex then there should be evidence of injury on the victim. When the victim does not fight back then they should be considered partly to blame.

NO Because:
This is a very common myth both in popular thinking or rape and in the criminal justice system. If a victim does not fight back, or if there is a lack of injuries on their body then this is not a sign they need to take some responsibility for what happened.

Many victims submit to the violence and control for fear that they will be harmed further or killed if they resist or try to fight back.

For victims it can just be about surviving the attack. A lack of injuries does not mean the assumption must be they consented.

YES Because:
The notion that rape is a crime that is about power rather then sex is to look at the issue solely from the victims point of view. If we wish to understand the phenomenon in it’s entirety, we must also look at it from the perpetrators point of view.

There are clearly many ways in which a violent individual may express violent tenancies that do not involve rape. Football hooliganism would be one example. That a rapist chooses
rape instead of these other means, suggests that for them, rape IS about sex as well as power.

If we are to offer effective advice to people on how to protect themselves and minimize the possibility of themselves becoming victims: we must recognise the sexual dimension of the crime and tailor our advice accordingly. This includes encouraging
people not to engage in behaviour which is liable to make them more vulnerable or more attractive to a potential predator.

NO Because:
The idea that a rape victim can be partly to blame is based on the idea that once aroused the rapist can no longer control themselves. Studies have shown this to be untrue and completely ignores the point that rape is about violence and control and not about the act of sex.

There you have it… What’s your thought on this issue. Join the debate, leave comments below.

Written by Glowville

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I was a Virgin

“Na the old gods dey wait make rapist turn 90years old before dem catch am, the God of today delivers judgment sharperly #SayNoToRape”

His torso ripped with veins showing through his formerly white but now brown singlet as he pushed the buggy of water into the hostel, this was his final round of water supply for the morning and he was ready to go take a shower, devour some ” Tuwo shinikafa” and rest before the already tingling sun starts to burn. The shinikafa was more on his mind as he jerked two 25litres kegs of water from the buggy with accustomed ease and danced along the tiny path to the rear of the hostel, pulling the heavy weight of the water, and jiggling like a palsy patient with every step he took. He emptied the water into the drum in quick succession and made his way back to the buggy to grab another set of kegs, oblivious of the hundreds of wolfish eyes staring at him in wild ecstasy or what lies ahead as he performed his routine without any care in the world.

His thighs and biceps throbbed as he emptied the 8th keg of water and the morning sun danced caressingly on his dark golden skin, two more kegs and he’s done for the morning, the thought of food gave him the strength to maintain his balance but the aroma of different concoction oozing out from the kitchen of the hostel weakens his resolve. He sat on the edge of the two kegs he’d just emptied to make sure they didn’t compress them with his weight while he savored the sweet mix coming from the kitchen, he closed his eyes and laid back a little, hoping to find the edge of the drum with the back of his head, but before his head could find it, he felt something soft touch his shoulder and he jerked back to life startled, almost kicking off the tray of food Adaeze was holding as he made to stand up in a rush. “Calm down Abu, it’s me, I only brought you some food to help you regain your strength, and you’ll be needing it since you still have two more kegs to carry”. His lips curled with a smile in appreciation, he collected the tray and balanced it on his laps as he repositioned himself on the two empty kegs to devour the meal, “the Tuwo will have to move to lunch zone” he thought to himself as he smiled at the pile of yam and scrambled egg sauce on his lap, he muffled “thank you Ada” with some accent as Adaeze headed for the door with the towel on her body barely clinging to her heavy set chest. He descended on the food but couldn’t help noticing as her buttocks wriggled and whined with every step she took as she walked back into the hostel, he smiled, shook his head and went ballistic on the yam, swallowing every bite speedily as if she might return to collect the food from him. The plate was empty in minutes and he wiped his mouth with the edge of his brownish singlet, he carefully placed the now empty plate and tray beside the drum and ran to the buggy to grab the last two kegs with his new found strength making it an easy swig.


He made the turn and met Adaeze standing beside the drum, waiting with a glass of cold juice in her hands, now she had a white tee-shirt on with the towel still on her waist, her nipples stood through the shirts as if they were competing for attention with the glass of juice, Abu dropped the kegs without attempting to empty them into the waiting drum that was almost filled, he collected the cold glass, brushing his hands against hers in the process and a colder chill ran through his spine. He downed the whole glass of juice in a single gulp and returned the glass to her without saying a word. “Well-done Abu, just empty this last two in the drum and call my name when you are through so I can give you your balance, I no forget your birthday, infact I have something for you today” she said. Abu nodded in response, grab a keg and continued with his work, he emptied the second keg as he struggled with the heat in his loin, his body was throbbing now as if he’s under a spell, he yawned heavily, dropped the empty keg and headed towards the door like a lion that just sprung from a prowl screaming “Ada! Ada!!”. He was met at the door by Ada this time with just the tee-shirt on her, without a towel or anything at all covering her naked round body, and before he could say a word, Ada grabbed his already turgid manhood and dragged him into the hostel’s kitchen. He could see four other girls in the kitchen but his vision was getting blurred already, he could only hear them giggle, he tried resisting but his hands were heavy and weakened by some strange forces, his eyes fluttered but he could only feel as more hands grabbed his manhood and body and laid him on something hard but cold. “I am going to be 17 years old in two days” was the last thought that flashed through his head, a 17 years old virgin.


He felt warm and cold, his legs were weak, his whole body was dripping wet and his mouth was sore, he couldn’t stand up from the cold hard floor of the kitchen and somehow, he could see Ada and the other girls exploding in screams in turn all over him… He couldn’t define what has happened but he was sure whatever it was had drained life out of him, probably it was something in the juice or probably something that happened here on the floor of the kitchen. He crawled out to the back of the building, dragged himself down to the drum and poured some water on himself. He gained some strength and staggered to the along leaving, remembering to pick up his kegs as he slowly made his way back to his buggy. The sun was burning already but he couldn’t even feel a thing or remember how long he’s been in the hostel. The security woman at the entrance was surprised to see him as he struggled to pull the buggy out of the compound, “Abu where you dey since, wetin do you” but he couldn’t find enough strength to open his mouth. He pulled to the road, staggered and struggled with the buggy along, trying to remember what happened to him in there, still drowsy and weak. He straightened up a little to shield his face from the burning sun when he suddenly saw Adaeze crossing from the other end of the road to his side, he froze and didn’t see or hear the incoming truck, he swirled into the middle of the road unknowingly and got knocked clean from behind into the gutter; sending the buggy in her direction, crashing her legs, ribs and skull.

He pulled himself out from the gutter groaning as the crowd rushed towards him and her, everything seems clearer now, he remembered everything now, he tried to stand up but his limbs were so weak although no bone was broken, he saw the truck driver speed away as the people pulled her jerking, marred body from the gutter and placed it on his buggy. They sped down the road, hoping to find a hospital in time to save her life. Tears welled up in his eyes and has he struggled to hold it back, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, there was blood all over, the people around him held him, he tried to speak but couldn’t find his voice, and everything went blank.

On the morning of his 17th birthday, he was discharged from the hospital with plasters to show for incident, he walked with a limp and before he could step into the sunlight, the story had already made the rounds, he was the victim that was avenged by the gods but nobody knew what was avenged. When he saw his buggy parked behind the open gate of the hospital, he remembered her and turned back into the reception to find out what became of her.

“I am Adaeze and I am writing this from a wheelchair. I was crippled, left with a boulder shaped head and I am gradually losing my ability to speak as the years goes by all as a result of an accident that was orchestrated by me. Abu was in SS3 at that time and he was always helping us with water whenever water supply was off which was almost every time. I drugged him and with four of my girls, we raped him and left him on the floor of the kitchen to make it look like he slept off after eating the food I gave him. I was a pharmaceutical student and I was sure the drugs wouldn’t kill although the rape could have, if he’d died, there wasn’t going to be a post so I felt confident we will go scot-free but we didn’t. After my confession; post the accident, the girls were expelled and before they could be arrested, they fled the hostel and I never saw them again. I’ve seen Abu just once since the incident, and that was on his 17th birthday, two days after the incident when he was allowed into ICU to see me on his request. The only thing he said was “I was a virgin”and those words had left a hole in me, giving me much more pain than any injury or death could afford.

I’ve been a guidance counsellor on wheels for rapist and rape victims for years since the incident and I will continue until I can’t produce any sound again. It’s been 15 years now and my appearance and experience alone has helped a lot of rapist reform, I hope my words will help rekindle the lamp of humanity in others so that together we can all #SayNoToRape”

Written by Abidemi Babaolowo Oderinlo

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Chain Reaction

This is coming late though but y’all have to forgive me. Man must hustle, wrestle, bustle etc to make ends meet.

#Bloggersville present “A the pain of a withered rose, a trumpet for war.”


A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes! But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.
This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’  being trampled upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle, we must fight with our heart and watch on. Read and enjoy


This is the usual rhythm of my love making. I will go on until my libido has been satiated and my final grunt has been heard. I do not bother to look at the tears streaming down the face of my partner nor am I bothered about the cuts and bruises I have left on her vagina and body. Those cuts on her vagina did not happen because I have a huge member, it is actually quite small. They are as a result of the force and brutality which characterizes my love making. Please, do not insult me and call it sex; I only make love. You are probably thinking that I am crazy or a perv, right? You won’t be the first. My name is Dr. Gentle Adigwe (yes, the name is a big irony) and I am going to tell you my story.

I would skip the beginning and tell you what you want to know. I was twelve years old and in JSS 3 when Nwanne, the help called me into her room and ordered me to take off my shorts. I laughed at her joke and told her that I will ‘tell my mummy for her’. I took my words back when she put a knife against my throat and told me to ‘try it’. She took my shorts down and started stroking me. I was too scared and couldn’t get it up and she ended up making me fondle her breasts and touch her privates. Nwanne didn’t come to my room again until two weeks later. This time, she came with a rope and tied me to a chair. She performed my first oral on me and managed to get it up. She started humping on it and soon as she saw that I was enjoying it, she gave me a slap. I started crying and that was what made her cum. This continued for two years until she got married and left. I still have marks all over my body from canes, slaps, cuts and bites. All this while I had never ejaculated because Nwanne never allowed it.

I met Njideka when I was fifteen. She was posted to my school for her Nysc and I was the head boy. One thing led to another and I waylaid her one evening. I told her that I loved her and she laughed at me. I simply brought out the knife in my pocket and asked her to strip and lie down on the floor. She started begging me and I realised that I was aroused. I didn’t even have to tell her to blow me like Nwanne used to do. Jide was my first sexual conquest and with her I experienced my first orgasm. I went home that day and I knew that I was powerful. It felt better because I knew that she would never tell a soul.

After Jide, I made love to a couple of girls; yes, it was love making not rape. Most of them seduced me and wanted to put up a fight when I was ready for them. Stupid girls! The struggle only made it sweeter for me.
I graduated as the best student in my department. I had raped, errrrm, made love to uncountable scores of girls at that time. I tried to do it right and be gentle, honestly, I did. I actually ‘toasted’ a girl. I endured all the rubbish she put me through and waited patiently for the cookie. When it was time to eat it, I just couldn’t get it up because I couldn’t hurt her. She thought it was her fault and she convinced me to “do what I want to”. She never spoke to me again after that day.

I specialised in Obstetrics and Gynaecology because I had learnt a wonderful way to continue with my deeds during my internship. Word on the streets is that I am the best ‘abortion doctor’ around. It is also well known that if you do not have money, I am very willing to help out. What did they not know is that I drug them and have sex with them (against their will of course) before the abortion. All through the years my philosophy has always been the same….F**k! and do not get *f**ked!!!”. Did I tell you that I had my way with Nwanne in her husband’s house when she was heavily pregnant? My best act yet. I went to visit her when I was eighteen and I tied her to a chair and had my way with her. Her screams and tears made it worthwhile.


Thing is, I have a lovely wife. We have been married for five years and we have two kids. I have never had sex with her on her terms. It just doesn’t work for me. I thought she would get used to my method but she still hasn’t. How can she when that would defeat the whole purpose? I am surprised that she hasn’t left me, actually. To reduce the pain I inflict on her, I satiate my cravings with other girls. I rape them (yes, I agree) because that is the only way I can feel pleasure. Their screams and pleas make me happy. I am not a sadomasochist; I know this because my wife has made me try BDSM. It was disgusting!!! That is not what gives me pleasure. It is forcing the lady against her wish that gives me joy. The fact that I am the only one deriving pleasure from the act is more satisfying than I can explain.


I am writing this because I have finally accepted that I am a rapist. When I looked at the tears streaming down the face of the ten year old, virgin, aramajiri girl that I raped last night, I knew that I had a problem. I have never told anyone my story. My wife doesn’t even know why I behave the way I do. I used to believe that my life was ruined and so other people’s lives should be ruined too. That was in the past, I have a change of heart now. The truth is I love my wife and I would really love to make her happy. I would love to be able to kiss and caress her and make her feel pleasure but I cannot. Well, I am hoping that soon I will be able to. Please, I need help.

My name is Dr. Gentle Adigwe and I am a rapist.


I know that a lot of people have stories like this to tell. Tales of how they were molested in their childhood and so became scarred after that. Tales of how they were bullied, and they developed inferiority complexes. Truth is there is no excuse that is enough. There is absolutely no reason to rape another person. If your partner is interested in BDSM and you decide to participate, then good for you but if he/she says NO, the No should stand. I pray that the God Lord helps the victims that need closure and may he give rapists the grace to live normal, loving lives in Jesus’ name. Amen.

(Writer’s details: Name:Shughar
Twitter handle: @jjshughar
blog url: www.shughar,

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I met a girl

I met a girl.

It’s part of the advantages of having no Sister.

More, having more than one Brother.

The Idea of getting all her attention,

Every act of hers causing me pleasure or tension.


On the other hand, letting her represent

What a woman is allowed or not to present

And then an easy dedication of all my love

Electra, that’s what I learnt in a Greek course.


So Mother loves Son, Son loves Mother

It’s fine by everyone…… Maybe except Father

But about that, none of the parties bother

Or is willing to offer a helping shoulder


But then, I met a girl


This love thing hasn’t really been my deal

And I could with no strings attached, share a meal

Because i know everything will turn out unreal

And it won’t really affect my zeal.


But then, I met a girl.


If her love were a sea, perhaps I would drown

And I’m more than eager for her to wear my crown

In any case, one thing is true,

That this one is surely my dream come true.

All because I met a girl…….


Adapted from Shade Adeduro’s “I met a guy”

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