Geographer cum writer

Aba, Nigeria

Name's Moses John Agbaeze. Born in the year 1991 to two lovely souls...them of which I'm here today. I'd lived in Nigeria all my life and have grown to cherish being a Nigerian by birth but a global citizen at heart. And hey,i love what the pen and a writing pad has done to me...what many victories it's won without a sword. I let you see you through my writings and trust me,that sure is some feelings there!My overtures towards witnessing a culture and tradition different from the one I've known all my life is borne out of the fact that between 2012-2016,i got a degree from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka studying Geography; it got me traveling a lot and i can't say I'm not proud one bit! It's a kumbaya thing...stuff of dreams!!


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Jul 30, 2020 3 years ago

Ken is a member of the local Baptist Church. He grew up an ardent member, following laid down creeds to the latter. His decision not to give himself up for blood donation during his grade six stemmed from this belief. After four years in this part of town, Ken's family leaves on transfer to a different region. Here, he meets new friends and encounters new realities, one of which is the weather. It didn't feel as warm as the area they'd move out of and this leaves him downcast. It is a Sunday morning, and the household gets up as early as 5:30 as is a norm for the family. Once Mercy realizes Ken's absence all morning, she calls out. ‘Mom, I can't see Ken. He hasn't been up all morning'. His mom, who hasn't notice her son's absence, takes the initiative and rushes down to his room. As Ken leaves the door ajar, she gains entrance without resistance. ‘Ken darling, it's morning, and God's waiting for us in church'. She calls out and waits for a response. Ken didn't respond. She thinks he had a busy night and thus slept late, so she calls out again, and moves closer to his bed. He didn't move a limb. ‘Ken! Ken!!' She bends over to his bed, shakes him with haste, and waits. Now Ken, who remains unresponsive all the while, drops a limb and thereafter, stretches his body as though he had a terrible dream where chains held his body to submission. His mom touches his neck and withdraws her hand. ‘Young man, you're burning up. Your temperature is high'. She reaches for his forehead and her reaction is like the first time; almost like his forehead was hotter than his neck. ‘Haven't you been taking your drugs?' She queries. ‘Oh, mom... I hate drugs and you know it. I tell you one thing, I'll heal without drugs.' Ken says, albeit unconsciously blowing his cover. ‘So what happened to all the drugs I got you?'. Ken keeps mute. His mom waits, and when he didn't say a word, her temperament goes sour. ‘I've told you taking drugs does not make you weak. It's one medium God uses to perfect His healing in our lives. Drugs don't carry out all the healing process but our faith in God to heal us through drugs does.' She says, sensing what she always thought Ken knew. She moves over to the side of the bed connecting the fan to the wall and turns it off. The window overlooking his bed too is open, so she reaches for it. Then, her hand knocks something down and she turns to see what she touched. “Ken! Do you mean to tell me you've not been taking your drugs? Why are tablets littered here?” She draws the curtain up and to her amazement, she sees dozens of pills spread across the floor by the bedside. ‘Mom, I'm sorry but I hate drugs.' Ken, now wearing a conspicuous look, says with little trouble. His mother helps him up and made him sit on a chair. She approaches the bed, carries the foam up so she could see what lay beneath the bed. Tablets and capsules of many colors laid wasted here and with this realization, she angrily drops the foam, storms out of the room, and calls out to her husband on her way. ‘You can't imagine how many tablets of drugs we've ever bought I just discovered under Ken's bed. This boy wants to die and leave me without a son.' She laments and as he is about to respond, Ken walks in with remorseful tears covering his face. He goes straight down on his knees and prays that his parents pardon his ignorance. ‘Ken, I can't understand why you did what you did but in all seriousness, not swallowing your prescribed pills is wrong. Let us in on why you chose the floor instead of your belly as the resting place for over thirty-eight tablets of drugs?' His dad queries, not minding the threat the event poses to their being in church on time. ‘Some people sought to open my eyes to how Jesus Christ healed people without drugs. They alluded such healings to faith. I thought they made a point, so I reasoned I might as well not need drugs to heal. Each time I fell ill, and you and mom got me drugs, I'd say to myself, Ken, you sure don't need these things. Your faith is enough.' Ken says, while his parents listen with a rapt audience. ‘Son, believe me when I tell you it's not wrong for a Christian to want to exercise their faith. It's the greatest feeling of being a Christian, but then, the Scripture tells us that faith without work is useless. If you'd faithfully taken these drugs and also understand that it is God that uses any medium to heal His children, then you'd have felt better a long time ago.' His dad dishes out corrections from which Ken's face grows woeful. He becomes conscious of his failure since his presumptive faith didn't help him get better. ‘I promise to do the right things and at the right time too, dad. I've messed up, but I quit being ignorant from today henceforth. Mom, Dad, please forgive me.' As he sits on the floor still, his dad lays his hands on him and prays for him. ‘Mercy, get some food for your brother and while coming, also get me the drugs bag from my room.' His mom instructs Mercy.

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Jul 16, 2019 4 years ago

I am the story and I am the truth...the truth spoken but with a shade of twist ain't no truth. It's feigned righteousness and that's bullshit in its entirety!!

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Jul 15, 2019 4 years ago

The pen and a writing pad in the hands of a knowledgeable soul has the ability to transform many years of continued moral decadence and bring to the spotlight,different ways of achieving set out moral,economic,social and financial aims. Hey,it's mightier that which cuts out ignorance, destroys hate and replaces it with love. Hope to one,Hope to all!!!

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Jun 27, 2019 4 years ago

OF DESPAIR, OF HOPE You accused me of being fragile. You said I'd lost my mojo as once; I wouldn't let tears get wasted even through the hell that's the lachrymator. I smiled in mockery of that. You know nothing about me, I'd said. But hey, (with a whisper) I've had sleepless nights dwelling on those. Though I'd want to argue, you're right. And who wouldn't be after the sort of harsh reality I'd faced lately? I know you want to hear me please you with the fact of the matter. Worry no more I'm good to that: It was dark, cold and without form. Ugly. Eerie. I love solitude but with gestures so unkind; I doubt I'd root for it this time. I really feared for myself. It was good voices were aplenty outside as it meant I could easily be gotten across to if I'd chosen to end it! From hurting, my eyes were crimson red and waning. For a moment, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. It didn't feel like there was a way back in for me. I sensed my life departing with the pace of an absconding criminal. In the dark of the room, I reached for my phone not without a fumble. I gazed at her…the beauty that was my cousin. It was like a lover consciously admiring their mate. The tears were well pronounced. The ground would testify. I shook my head, partially muttering the words, “Rest in Peace”. I had known her formally one and a half years before this. That Christmas, she returned and demanded some family bonding moments. Being resident in a city hundred miles away from mine, it meant we were truly catching up on lost times. She was the prettiest thing and her smile held the key to unlocking treasures. Oh, you didn't have to go! I wished. I cursed. Then the door jarred with a bang on the wall. It was violent! Like lightening. I paused and then tried to recreate an atmosphere. “Ogbeni wetin dey do you? I bin hear you dey sob from outside”. He asked with a show of emotion. It was vernacular; the sort prevalent in this part of the world. It translated thus: Brother, what's the matter with you? I heard you sobbing from outside. I pretended. Man up I tried. He wouldn't be fooled. I slowly but steadily wiped tears off my face and blew mucus into the handkerchief. I wore a feigned smile, even rubbing my right eye as though it itched. I wanted to escape. He was smart and persistent. “Forget that thing joor! I know say something dey make you cry”. He pressed on as would a detective. That was my roommate, Harry. And though his command of the English Language was of appreciable heights, he had chosen to stay faithful to Pidgin. It enthused me. I too was a student in its school. “Guy, that my cousin don kpai o”. I responded with a cold harmless hiss. We'd talked about her once. They both were die-hard Arsenal fans! “Jeez! What the f**k!” I nodded cupping my head in my hands. “But what happened?” Harry was a brother. I'd looked at him and seen kindness. Empathy. Everything including little details mattered but this made him teary in an instant. I could tell his ears were pricked to get told things. He got to hear how my beautiful cousin, a proud mother of one and an astute fan of Arsenal lost her life to childbirth. Again, those tears were rolling and freely too. Words were gone and my voice had taken a hit. But despite the wrench in the works, he heard me mutter something like, “why does it happen only to the good ones?” It was a question but rhetorical. In between sobriety and the last drop of tears I'd wiped, he answered. In true fashion, I nodded. The good die young and in this world of mindless ills, the good always gets dealt with the wrongs of others. Under the circumstance, I affirmed. I would argue about that any other time. Now, with his slightly soft palm on my left shoulder, he'd thought. “God shall give you and the family the fortitude to bear this and her soul, eternal rest I pray.” Literature wasn't his strongest point but this sure sounded sweet and assured. I thanked him. I told him I knew already. I didn't mean to undermine his effort. “Whatever happens, you go lemme know na abi” That was pidgin. “Sure! Why not” It was like me promising with an oath. For a moment after the transformation, I sat trying to create a picture of life. I understood one thing: Regardless of how long a man lives here, only two moments mattered: The birth and the death. For life itself was fleet-footed. Here today and six feet under the ground tomorrow. It wasn't worth the hassle or so I'd thought. It wants us to live upright and stay fair so long as breathe remained. That way, when death which is life's cousin comes knocking, we'd gladly open without having to use the peephole. And oh, Harry had gone to see a soccer game between Arsenal and Bayern Munich- that too was death! Meanwhile, I'd stripped bare to shower. A new lease of life. END

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Jun 26, 2019 4 years ago

It's a new day and like bats we'd been ushered into it not knowing what it has in door for each and everyone of us. Amid this uncertainty though,we do but one thing and it's hope! May you see reasons to smile and amid loyalty...

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