How To Be A Nigerian Undercover Writer

You are a writer or an aspiring journalist. If you listen carefully, what about to tell you will blow you. Yes, your name will keep ringing a bell. The money will keep rolling in once you can keep up with the job. You must understand instead of you waiting for the royalties of a book you wrote, you can earn double of the royalties. While you keep it as your retirement savings.

There are many witches out there that will surely truncate your hustles. They are so bent in making sure nothing best comes out of your new found darling job. Don’t worry, the earlier the better. We will avoid them in every angle even if it entails visiting TB Joshua.

Nigeria faces hell of problems. You already know that. I’m not trying to tell you to buy one of the problems. It will consume you and none will recall even when you were born. These problems range from kidnapping, Boko Haram, Armed Robbery, MEND, OPC, MTN, Pipeline Vandalism, Religion, Human Trafficking, Corruption, Mama Peace (Please don’t ask me when this has come to be a problem) etc. These are few known problems of this country. Don’t waste your time trying to pokenose into any of these. Nigerians and the entire world won’t listen to you. As far as they know, these are bona fide citizens of the country.

Look at some areas which nobody has dared or those that tried ended up woefully. It’s not to your portion to fail. Don’t mind village witches, they are already failing. Now, you’ve known which area you will beam your searchlight on, cool. No, I didn’t advice you to embark on a journey. It is too dangerous. We are in a computer age. You shouldn’t risk your life because Nigerians are so quick to forget heros. Thank God for Google, Facebook, Twitter. Also, create a blog, yes you need where you ‘paste’ your research materials. Make your researches in these places and stay off the public for three months. No friend or close relative of yours should know of your aspirations. They might be advocates of witches. Your dreams will be killed before arrival.

You should come up with a nicest story ever written. Don’t paint it with too many lies. You have to spice it up with things even those that didn’t read, but were told about your ordeal will feel for you. Pa Ikhide and co will nail it dead though none of them writes or will they make to embark on the journey which you staked your life on. Haters will hate. Just move on with your life. Write on how you were fed with rotten food filled with maggots. You were beaten with iron rods (You can pierce some parts of your body. Fame is hard to come by). Give your audience some relief, tell of how you wanted to fall in love with one of the tormentors. Your rescue shouldn’t be in Nigeria. It should somewhere in Somali. Yes, you ought to bring a white person in the picture, an international media guru. You know, you are writing so you don’t go and contact a wrong ‘white’ person. Now, your story is ready. Serve it while it’s hot while your haters will have no other option than to go and hug transformer. Give it time and your awards will start rolling in.

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How To Be Become Nigerian Undercover Reporter.

You are a writer or an aspiring journalist. If you listen carefully, what about to tell you will blow you. Yes, your name will keep ringing a bell. The money will keep rolling in once you can keep up with the job. You must understand instead of you waiting for the royalties of a book you wrote, you can earn double of the royalties. While you keep it as your retirement savings.

There are many witches out there that will surely truncate your hustles. They are so bent in making sure nothing best comes out of your new found darling job. Don’t worry, the earlier the better. We will avoid them in every angle even if it entails visiting TB Joshua.

Nigeria faces hell of problems. You already know that. I’m not trying to tell you to buy one of the problems. It will consume you and none will recall even when you were born. These problems range from kidnapping, Boko Haram, Armed Robbery, MEND, OPC, MTN, Pipeline Vandalism, Religion, Human Trafficking, Corruption, Mama Peace (Please don’t ask me when this has come to be a problem) etc. These are few known problems of this country. Don’t waste your time trying to pokenose into any of these. Nigerians and the entire world won’t listen to you. As far as they aware, these are bona fide citizens of the country.

Look at some areas which nobody has dared or those that tried ended up woefully. It’s not to your portion to fail. Don’t mind village witches, they are already failing. Now, you’ve known which area you will beam your searchlight on, cool. No, I didn’t advice you to embark on a journey. It is too dangerous. We are in a computer age. You shouldn’t risk your life because Nigerians are so quick to forget heros. Thank God for Google, Facebook, Twitter. Make your researches in these places and stay off the public for three months. No friend or close relative of yours should know of your aspirations. They might be advocates of witches. Your dreams will be killed before arrival.

You should come up with a nicest story ever written. Don’t paint it with too many lies. You have to spice it up with things even those that didn’t read, but were told about your ordeal will be filled with pity for you. Pa Ikhide and co will nail it dead though none of them writes or will they make to embark on the journey which you staked your life on. Write on how you were fed with rotten food filled with maggots. You were beaten with iron rods (You can pierce some parts of your body. Fame is hard to come by). Give your audience some relief, tell of how you wanted to fall in love with one of the tormentors. Your rescue shouldn’t be in Nigeria. It should somewhere in Somali. Yes, you ought to bring a white person in the picture. Now, your story is ready. Serve it while it’s hot while your haters will have no other option than to go and hug transformer. Give it time and your awards will start rolling in.

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I held my breathe as I saw the glittering edge of the dagger he held, coming towards me. His face looked red and darkened, which tells anger. I never stopped saying my prayers deeply in my heart. I had lost voice for a cry or shout. I was left with the only option; to die! They have spared me for three days now for reasons best known to them. My fear was, what will they do with my corpse if I die in their hands? The four days of my capture, I was beaten, spat on, dehumanized and my manhood became a thing of caricature.

‘So na you wey your people no wan show face, abi?’, he asked in pidgin English as he pointed the dagger at a woman shivering at end corner of the room.

To Be Continued…..

Our Be(un)loved

You came just yesterday

You are not the first

Might be the last

Right before you are sins of Khaki saints

Darker than charcoal

Leaving you on procold

Even when your name should be in gold,

You once had no shoes

“Who knows if you had a singlet?”

And doors keep opening for you

All is well

A thunderstorm uphill

It sweeps across as you always shivered

“Are you not Commander in Chiefs?”

No, you are not a commander in thieves

Where is Farouk?

Lamido will adore him with Five thousand naira note

Rueben will issue a statement even on blood sucking mosquitoes

Okupe an attack lion while jungle remainth empty,

Tea on sliced cassava bread

No lunch?

Try cocoyam buns,

NEPA has buried cancerous generators,

Roads are not worthy

How safe is Miss DANA in the sky?

Let all MAULAGs muah muah

We shall smile for a better tomorrow

Our beloved president.

Not my fault

Dear brethren,
I must write to tell you how am doing. It has been long since I left to this my unknown journey. You must have missed me a lot, but I miss you all more. I still recall the lovely days we share together, laughing, eating, and playing together. Everything was just normal not until the sickness came calling. My very being changed, I could not help it as I always walk on the streets talking to myself or run when no one had the thought of chasing me.
What changed me was what I cannot tell as you dreaded me like a contagious disease. Nobody wants to help or make me come back to my normal senses rather you all conspired to have me chained because you claimed am becoming a great nuisance in the society. For days, you left me hungry and thirsty under the mercies of blood sucking mosquitoes. I urinated and do the backyard business on my clothes. Come rain, come shine I was there hoping that one day I will be free and much better than I use to be. None of you remembered the good old days that I throw naira notes around and you will joyfully drench me with praises.
The hope turned sour as you all conspired again, you went, and brought the psycharitic officials to do God knows what to me. However, I gave them the best beating of their lives as I fought like a wounded lion. I broke the chains with my bare hands while the tree that had been my companion was too sorry as I uprooted it. Talk about possession, I was more than possessed. Seven different spirits waiting to unleash their anger because they hate to be chained. I was a monster because I could no see any of you as a human. I chopped ears, nose, fingers just name it. Mazi okeke must be in great pain, my teeth and fingers never pitied him. My destruction was huge as everywhere seemed like a war ground. Battered and looted. Loses were much. Cries at every corner. It was a run for safety, staying back means you don’t love yourself. Nothing could stop me not even the police that was invited, but took to their heels as they shot at me, without the bullets doing anything to me. It was as if I was being watered.
I wasn’t the one doing those things, it was the spirits. They are unhappy. They want the streets. To see the outside world and feel its breeze. I couldn’t resist due their total hold on me. Am told what to be done and where to go. Sometimes it just seems fun all the way, while other times I was too violent. Not my fault that is madness spirits.
Right now, I don’t even know where am going. They are the one leading the way. I pray and believe that one day they will lead me back into your arms. Until then, I remain your brother and friend Nonso.