This Man That I Know


He is a Priest,
He is a King,
And He is the Lord,
This man that I know.

He made a big sacrifice for the whole world,
With His own flesh and blood,
So that sin will no longer have a hold
On as many who accept Him,
And so that they may be made right with God
And become His children.

He is a warrior who never loses any battle.
He breaks heads and fills lands with corpses.
He fights for the cause of His own,
And yes, He will rule and reign forever–
This man that I know.

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

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Don’t strive to be who you are not just to please people. You will eventually get enervated from pretending and ache to return to you. Why, because it hurts to not be you.

Look at it this way, whether you are you or not, some people will still form hurtful opinions about you, cook up stories about you and choose not to see whatever good you do. So why not just be you instead of going though the hell (yes, it is hell) of being who you are not?

Being you might gore some poeople’s ox, but that won’t be your problem but theirs so far you is not a sin. Anyone affected by your being yourself has issues and should deal with it. Be you.

PS: The you here is not condoning personal issues you need to work on.

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

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Speak Life Over Your Children

I just now remember told us about a wife of one of her older cousins, Iya Segun. Iya Segun used to sing for her son, Boda Segun, when he was a toddler like this:

“Segun a di lawyer lola o.
“Segun a di doctor lola o.”
“Segun will become a lawyer tomorrow.
“Segun will become a doctor tomorrow”

Boda Segun did not grow up to become a lawyer or a doctor, but he grew up to be a success in his chosen field. Will I even recognise the *boda if I see him today? I might, and might not. It’s been so long I saw him last.

My point? Parents, speak life over your children, even if they could frustrate sometimes. Bless them and do not curse. Speak life over them, you’ll see the dividends of those words eventually.

*Boda–a corrupt way of saying brother in Yoruba.

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

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A Crazy Day

“Many are mad, few are roaming.” I perfectly agree with that quote, there are many many un-roaming mad people (awon were alaso) everywhere, you won’t know until you encounter them. I met two of them yesterday.


I took a commercial motorbike, popularly called okada, from my house area, yesterday, and dropped at a certain junction where I was to flag down a taxi to my destination in town. On alighting from the okada, I remembered I was asking my dad about the name of the area I was going and what I was supposed to call when stopping taxis. He wasn’t sure about the name of the place and I forgot to ask him again before I left the house. So, I stepped back from the roadside-cum-motorbike park to make a call to my brother who was sure to bail me out. As I placed the phone on my ear and started talking with my brother, I noticed a rascal was standing a few steps away from me, ogling.

Ki lo de, ki lo n wo? What is the matter, what are you staring at?” I managed to challenge him while still on phone with my brother. I even thought he might want to snatch my phone from me. This guy kept staring and even inched closer.

“Tamedo Junction, Tamedo Junction lo wa. This is Tamedo Junction, you are at Tamedo Junction.” He revealed his burnt teeth and spoke with that throaty voice typical of agberos and omo-itas generally. E ma gba mi o, ewo leleyi bayii. Ta lo so fun un pe mi o mobi ti mo wa? Someone save me o, which one is this now? Who told him I do not know where I am? I thought, irritated. He was still gawking. I decided to ignore him.

Some okada guys parked nearby noticed the drama and I could see a stupid smile tugging at the corner of a mouth. Then this dunce did the creepiest thing I have ever seen in my life. He stepped closer and danced to my back, as if to access. I still decided to ignore him, not moving an inch, not turning my head. I had never felt so harassed in my life. I left the place, still on phone. Just when I thought I had had it all, he followed me and came to face me opening his gutter again and speaking some indecipherable Engrish, no, not English. I became livid and yelled at him.

Woo, maa fun e ni ifoti, maa gba oju e…! Look, I’ll slap you…! My brother asked from the other end what happened and I almost said “Oloriburuku kan nibi yii ma ni, it’s one unfortunate being here,” then bit my tongue and said “Olorigbeske kan nibi yii ma ni.” (I don’t know the English word for “olorigbeskeo, but you use it when you don’t want to sound abusive or cursive.

I actually meant it. I’d have fulfilled my promise if he hadn’t fled. He did not even let me finish my sentence before he disappeared, I wanted to add that I’d get him arrested by the police too. I still cringe now as I type. I had never felt so harassed in my life, harassment at its most raw level, not even coated or polished. Yuck!


I eventually found a taxi going in my direction and hopped in. I was supposed to board two taxis to get to where I was going. But when I alighted from the first taxi, while I was waiting by the road trying to get the second taxi, I finally decided to not go to my destination again. I was actually going to make a payment for something at a financial institution. But what I was going to pay for had certain conditions attached to it and I was not 100% sure those conditions would be perfectly met before the deadline. Afraid of having to pay a penalty fee at the end in addition to the original payment, after making some consultation, I decided to return home but stop at a market on the way to get something.


I wanted airtime (call credit) and had been looking around to see if I’d find a booth where they sell call recharge cards. I found one, but they sold for another service provider. I eventually saw a booth, just as I was about to make a turn to the part of the road where I’d stand to get a taxi that would drop me at the market, paraded as if it sells cards and I branched. I announced I wanted to buy call card and a lady there told another lady, her oga mistress. I stood there and there was no move from oga mistress to hand the card to me. I was piqued and started to leave, but the other lady persuaded me to not go and that was when the oga mistress raised her head and begged me. She said she was stretching her hand asking me to type in my number on the phone. But I want a card, why type in my number? I asked. They said it is top-up. Then I shook my head and made to leave again, because I was sure such style of recharging would rob me of the usual bonus I get for every recharge. But they persuaded me again, they said that my bonus would still come. If I had known, I wouldn’t have agreed.

So, I punched in my number and the lady added the code she needed to add. No message entered my phone. No network notification of any transfer.

“Auntie, the credit has been transferred, give me money.” Transferred keh? Nigba ti mi o kii se omo ana. When I’m not a baby. I told her it was impossible for me to pay when I hadn’t received the top-up. I checked my credit balance, no change. Then she gave me a silly explanation why the transfer had been done even if it had not reflected yet. She claimed she transferred to a guy sitting down there a certain amount higher that what I wanted and because she got an error message, she did it two more times and now all the three transfers that reported error had reflected on the guy’s phone. As a result, me, omo t’iya bi to foja aran pon, should pay her.

“You see, madam, we are both doing business. You claim to have sent it, but I haven’t received it, so I can’t pay you. If you insist it’s been giving you error messages, fine, I’d wait until it reflects. I cannot pay for what I have not received.” I told her.

“When you are not deaf,” she said rudely. “How many of you are doing business, am I walking around the street hawking? Did you not hear when I was explaining how it showed error on that boda’s phone. Believe me, it has entered.”

I was indignant and I made her know she was rude. Why would she say that to a customer? Already, I was calling the customer service. I wanted to confirm from them if anyone sent anything to my line. Later, a massive woman had arrived, she also wanted to recharge. Then this saucy lady spoke again, asking me to pay her because she knew what she was saying. She even insinuated that I already got a message from the network and I should give her my phone to check. Really? Of course, I didn’t give her my phone neither did I give her any money. The woman that just came intervened and this girl, now referring to me in singular pronouns (in my language, as a way of respect to older folks or people you are not familiar with or close to, we use plural pronouns in our conversation with them, just like ‘Miss’, ‘Ms’ or ‘Mr’ is used in English), told her nonsense story again. I let the woman know I hadn’t gotten any alert on my phone from her so called transfer (I had also switched to singular pronouns) and definitely could not pay. I also informed her I was still waiting for a customer care representative to pick my call to clarify the issue.

When I mentioned my calling the customer care, the woman said, “Which customer care again, is this not customer care?”

“Tell her o.” The foolish girl replied. I was shocked. Seriously? Ignorance is not cute at all.

At last, a lady at the customer care line picked my call and I lodged my complaint. I demanded to know if anyone transferred airtime to my line and why it was not reflecting. According to the lady, no transfer was made, my balance still remained as it was. I thanked her and requested that she let me give the phone to the booth girl. I rose up to give her the phone.

“Just get out of my sight and leave this place. Don’t give me any phone.”

“Wow, was it not you that claimed you made a transfer and now that it is being clarified, you asked me to get out of your sight.”

She started abusing me. I replied her and even said something I regretted later. I made sure I let her know pe o baje, that she was rude, talking to a client anyhow. The massive woman begged me to leave and I left shaken and shell-shocked.


In my mind I was wondering why I had to go through all that on the same day. First it was the scoundrel, then this uncouth girl, and to worsen it all, my reason for going out was not achieved. Even the market I thought I would branch at, the taxi I boarded was going in another direction, but I didn’t understand what he said when I entered, I thought he was going towards the market. In short, I couldn’t go to the market again. Maybe if I had been more sensitive before I left the house, I would not have bothered to go out at all and I would have escaped the dramas. I was also thinking out loud to the Lord how I should have handled the cheeky booth girl without having to use the word I regretted using.

“Honestly,” I said to the Lord, “this holiness and righteousness thing is not bread and butter, I need more grace, because you will always meet crazy people. What to do?”

Well, that was how yesterday went for me, it was not funny at all. How has your day been?

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

Posted in Non Fiction, Personal | Tagged | 6 Comments

ZEPH 3:17

Sing for me, Father,
Your sweet sweet melody.
Calm me down, dear Lord,
With Your pure pure love.
Sing for me, sweet Father,
And calm me down with Your love.

Dance for me, Father,
I know You dance too.
I want to see Your matchless steps,
The ones the best of dancers cannot beat.
Dance, Father, dance,
You are the Lord of the dance.

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

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Worn out,
Yet hoping for Your fresh touch,
For Your oil of gladness.

Let Your touch envelope me,
Let the oil run from my crown to my feet,
Let Your love wash over me anew,
Let it comfort and heal me,
Let it bind my broken heart,
Let it fill me up to overflowing,
Let it satisfy my hunger,
Let it quench my thirst,
Let it renew my strength,
Let it bring back to life those bubbles of joy.

This is me right now, Father,
Crying out to You.

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

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Thank God for hairdressers. I don’t know what people like me would do if they did not exist.

I keep my hair unrelaxed and it is fairly long. I don’t have any treatment I use on it save that I pamper the edges by watching the kind of hairstyles I make, not allowing hair stylists touch the tiny edge hairs while braiding with extension and taking out the braids at the edges after a week or two of making the hair. No special hair-cream, I use a mixture of sheabutter and some oils, nothing more.

So I was told about how good it is to use onion juice to treat dandruff; mayonnaise mixed with any oil of your choice as a deep conditioner and okra juice for detangling and leave-in conditioning. I decided to add these to my regimen and I was so excited about the thought. It is not that I didn’t know about these treatments before, just that I was not into them. If I remember well, I had used okra juice as a leave-in conditioner before, but that was just once. There was even a season in my life when I applied finely blended avocado and banana to deep condition my hair. The few times I maintained that regimen, I went through some difficult time getting dried bits of banana and avocado off my hair. I ended up losing some hair because no matter how well you wash your hair after such treatments, some minuscule of the fruits will still remain in the hair. Because of the stress from getting out the particles from my hair after it is dried, I stopped that treatment.

Now that I have been reminded of the onion, mayonnaise and okra treatments, I couldn’t wait to apply them after loosening my previous hairstyle. So I loosened the hair, detangled and washed. I then grated the onions (added a piece of ginger) and strained out the juice using a handkerchief. I applied the resulting juice to my hair making sure every strand of hair got soaked and the scalp was well reached. I was told to not wash it away because it is a good leave-in conditioner too and gives more shine to the hair. I let the onion-ginger juice dry out and afterwards rubbed the mayonnaise-oil mix through the hair tips to the scalp. I covered the hair with a plastic bag from 5pm till the next morning, I wanted the best result. When morning came, I washed off the substance and then set to prepare the okra juice. My hair by this time was so tangled up. But I wasn’t bothered because I knew the okra juice would perform magic on the knots.

The okra juice eventually landed on my hair and scalp. But, nah, it wouldn’t unknot the tangles. What! I finished applying and came out of the bathroom, waited for the okra juice to dry out and the see if I could detangle the hair. For where? I couldn’t o. Ha! Thus, I sat down with the hair hoping to be able to finger-comb, but no, that was a Herculean task. I spent hours, not two nor three nor four, to detangle just a tiny portion of hair. It was then I realised the hair needed a professional touch. It was past midnight, however, I had no choice than to send a text message to my natural hair stylist if I could come over to her lounge later in the day to get the hair deknotted. You need to feel the hair, o di koko bii yanma, extremely tangled. There was no more remedy from my end. On this note, I went to bed. I recall asking the Holy Spirit to give me wisdom on what to do. It just occurred to me now that contacting my stylist was His idea because it was after I prayed that it occurred to me to send her a text.

This morning, I prayed that the Lord would give my stylist the wisdom needed to demat my hair in such a way that I wouldn’t lose too much hair. Later in the day, I went to her shop and she was afraid when she saw the hair. It was a really critical case of tangling-up. She then told me that my order of applying the treatments was wrong. I should have divided the okra juice into two parts, use a part to ravel out the hair properly before washing and then apply after washing as leave-in conditioner and for final detangling. It is after that step that I ought to add the mayonnaise mix. The purpose of the mayonnaise treatment is for curl definition. That was actually what knotted up the hair. Emi o mo o. I didn’t know. Glory to God anyway, I didn’t lose much hair, just the normal amount of hair you lose when you comb your hair.

Do you now see why I thanked God at the beginning for hairdressers? What can someone like me do without them?

©2016, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde


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