©®All Right Reserved to the author -Abdullahi BOLAJI

Due to the versatility of the book the main book will be published in sequel in my blog to enable you read also but it will be copy right protected. No copy and Past enable.
Start Date: 27th January 2018
The excerpts will be posting here. But the real book will be on the blog due to privacy policy.

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EPISODE 1: THE LETTER

My name is Aliya. I am the only child of my parents. I turned 16 last month, two days before my end of term examinations. I had waited so eagerly for that day to come. When I was 14,1 read a book titled 'Sweet Sixteen', which made me realise that at 16, one is no longer a child but a young adult. For as long as I can remember, I had always hated to be called a child.

To me, child means the same as stupid. So, children's stuff never interested me. Instead, I found myself drawn to grown up things. I felt more comfortable relating with people who are many years older than me. My father thought this was because of my size. I am what you might describe as plus size. If you like, you could say I was plump or chubby; but never say fat.

I started wearing bras at 10 and at 14, I was already a size 16. My father would say, "Aliya, don't be deceived by your size, you are still a child and you should enjoy being a child."To this, I would counter that I was not a child, but an adult trapped in the body of a child. He would shake his head and give my mother a long stare, which I never understood. 'Young adult' therefore, sounded like a fair compromise between being a child, as my father would insist, and being an adult, as I would insist. My mother was a nurse. My father was, well, many things. At the time I was born, he was a journalist. When I was in primary school, he was working in a Public Relations agency.

He then went on to work for an international organisation that helps poor people in Africa. When I asked him what exactly his job in the organisation was, he said it was still some kind of public relations. The very day I turned 16, I was still in school. Even if I was home, I knew better than to expect any parties. My father believed that the only thing worth celebrating was a major achievement. In his eyes, a birthday was not an achievement at all. My mother said she agreed with him. I suspected she was just going along with her husband. For this, I have very strong evidence in the form of several photographs I had seen of her, standing all decked up behind birthday cakes. But to be fair, that was before she met and married Mr. Bello.

Whatever the case, birthdays were not a regular event in my home. My father even hardly remembered birthdays, including his own. Mummy however, would never, ever forget. She even...................................................................

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interesting

if You are in for the book let me know

EPISODE 2


EPISODE 2
Well, maybe one was not  I still scored A in all other subjects, including Mathematics and Physics which most of my classmates struggled with, but I never scored higher than a C in Chemistry. As it happened, it was my first paper in this examination. There were two blocks of eight rooms in my hostel and there were four of us in each room.

We had ten bathroom cubicles, five for each block, so we took turns to have our bath. But this was not a problem. Usually, you only had to wait for one person to finish up. I took a quick glance at my bedside clock. I still had more than an hour before the assembly. Of my three roommates, one was about my age, even though she was slightly older. Her name was Grace.The other two were junior students. They had all wished me a happy birthday that morning. As I made my bed, Grace returned from the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her chest and another one on her head like a turban. I turned to her and asked, "Grace, did you feel anything? I mean when you turned 16, did you like, feel different in any way?" "No. It was like 14 or 15. Couldn't feel any difference, to be honest," she answered with a shrug. Grace was not a great talker.

It was as if someone was going to charge her for the number of words she used each time she spoke. Many people thought she was snobbish. But I knew she was a nice and generous person.

I wouldn't say she was my bestie, but we got along well enough, even though we were not in the same class. "But...," I started to say, but changed my mind. "Never mind,"I added. I knew Grace liked to be left alone. In any case, I thought I should rather focus on my Chemistry.

I had worked harder this term. And this was reflected in my continuous assessment results. Still, I was more than a little worried. The main problem was that time was never enough for me to answer the questions and do all the practical tests. I had tried to improve on my speed by taking five minutes off the time allotted to each question. On one occasion, I managed to finish about 17 minutes ahead of time.

But I still wondered how I would hold out in real examination conditions. As we sang the national anthem that morning at the assembly, I was already looking forward to the birthday card from my father. But when I walked up to the principal later, he only asked me to see him in his office at break time. "Ho- hope there- there is no problem, sir?"I stammered. "Not at all,"the principal answered curtly. Before I could say anything more, he was already talking to one of the teachers. He appeared upset by something.

I noticed he didn't say a happy birthday to me.That also never happened before. Usually, as he handed me the card from my dad, he would say, "Happy birthday to daddy's angel and my superstar." And we would both laugh. I wondered what could have happened this time. Maybe he was distracted by whatever had upset him

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EPISODE 3

"A cute thing you've got there," he said as I hugged him. "Daddy, story, story," I said in a sing-song as we sat on one of the concrete benches that were arranged around a black and white chequerboard on the floor.

It was not really a board, but a raised cement platform on which giant black and white chess pieces mounted guards on opposite ends as if waiting for their marching orders. This was where students, mostly boys, gathered to play chess during the weekends. I told Dad how I got the teddy bear. "This boy, what is his name?"he asked, smiling.

"Bobo,"I answered. "Bobo, is that his real name?" "No, his real name is Tokunbo,Tokunbo Alabi." "Okay. Where do you thinkTokunbo got the money to buy this gift for you? Did his parents give him a special allowance to buy Valentine's gifts for girls?" I said no, I didn't think so. "So, could it be that Tokunbo took part of his pocket money to buy the teddy bear?" "Yes, most probably," I answered.

Dad got up slowly and walked towards the chess board. He picked up one of the pawns and moved it two steps forward.Then, he turned to me. "You see, Aliya, there is nothing wrong in giving or receiving gifts. But usually, especially in this kind of situation, when someone feels he has done you a favour, he would normally feel you owe him something. Sometimes, he could even, maybe, expect you to return the favour." He walked to the other end of the chess board and moved the knight. As he retraced his steps, he asked, "So, this boy, what do you think he wants from you?"

I said I didn't know. "He said he likes me. Maybe he wants me to like him back?" "So, do you like him back?"He moved another pawn. "N000," I answered, drawing out the '0' and shaking my head. The truth is I liked Bobo also. He was very funny, so I liked talking to him. But that was all.

I never thought of him as more than a friendly classmate. He was not as smart as Akin, but certainly not as rascally too. In that department, Akin was the clear gold medalist. Dad smiled broadly as if he knew more than he was actually saying. Then he came back to sit beside me................................

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Use the link above to practice with some likely questions from 2019 UTME Text (SWEET SIXTEEN)

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EPISODE 4
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SWEET SIXTEEN EPISODE 4

Do not give things to people with the expectation that they will like you because of that. In the same token, when people give you things, it does not necessarily mean they love you."
He got up again, and walked up to the other end to counter the move he made earlier as his own opponent. He had tried to teach me to play chess. He said it would make me to think strategically.

He said the black and white pieces represent two armies ranged in battle, the mission being to capture the opponent's king. Well, I was not so interested in fighting any battles and certainly not interested in capturing any kings. But before he gave up on me, I had already known the names of all the pieces and how each of them moved.

I suspected he always chose this part of the school to meet with me so that he could play against himself as he was doing now. A group of students walked past us towards the hostel and said good afternoon to him. In my school, it was compulsory for every student to greet any adult they came across. He returned their greetings and picked up another piece, a castle, from the board.

"Do you know the kind of girls that most boys like?" "No,"I answered.
"Dumb girls. Boys like dumb girls." "Really,but I am not dumb," said, frowning.
"Of course. But this boy, e-r-r, what's his name, Bobo, does he know that? That you are not dumb?"
"He should. We are in the same class and I always beat him in exams." "Aliya, it is not all about exams. You can score A in all your subjects and Still be dumb."
"Daddy, I don't understand?"

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SWEET SIXTEEN EPISODE 5

In actual fact, I only managed to sit through the class. F could not even recall a word of what was taught that morning; even though on a good day the Geography class could be terribly boring. I ran all the way to the principal's office and was still panting when I got there. To my pleasant surprise, the principal's face dissolved in a big smile the moment he saw me. He asked why I was panting. "Did you run all the way here?" I said yes. "Well, happy birthday," he said. "I guess your boyfriend has a special present for you this year,"he said as he brought out a gift box with a pinkish wrap and a bright red ribbon that had a full multi-coloured bow on top of it.

When he said my boyfriend, I knew he meant my dad.The two of them had forged some kind of friendship that I could not understand, especially as they had little in common, or so I thought. My dad was much younger than the principal, even though I didn't know the principal's exact age.The principal was Christian, my dad was Muslim.

My dad was Yoruba, the principal was Tiv. "Oh, my God!"I exclaimed as I collected the box. But it was not the gift that excited me so much, but the utter relief in realizing that all my fears were unfounded after all. "Why don't you wait until you see what is in the box before you get all excited,"the principal said. "No. Not that sir. I was so scared before I got here." "Scared of what?" "It was just unusual sir, me having to come to your office to pick up the card.

So, I was kind of afraid that something terrible might have happened." "To whom?  Your father? No. Nothing's happened. I still saw him yesterday. “The principal chuckled.  "Thank you sir. Thank God." "You are welcome and happy birthday!" he shouted after me as I practically hopped out of his office.

The relief that I felt at knowing that my father was okay was quickly overtaken by curiosity. I couldn't wait to see what was in the beautiful box. I ran back to the hostel and tore the parcel open. I almost felt bad with the way I ripped off the ribbon. Someone must have taken the trouble to...

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6 coming

EPISODE 6

EPISODE 6: DRIVE


In the letter that my father wrote to me when I was 16, he recalled an interesting outing we had some years before. I was 12 at the time. I just returned home for holiday after my JSS 1. Even though we had had several of such outings since then, I remembered this particular one quite well. It was a cool Saturday morning, not much doing.

After a quick breakfast, I had climbed back into bed, looking forward to another lazy morning of rolling around and listening to music. I was about to plug in my earphones when I noticed a presence in the doorway.

"Aliya, are you alright?" It was my dad. He was still holding the door and I could only see half of his body. "Yes, Dad, I am fine. You want me to do something?" "No. I want to drive around and was just wondering if you would like to come along." "Of course," I said, dropping the earphone and jumping up from the bed.

"Are we going anywhere in particular?"I asked as I tried to figure out if I needed a change of clothing and what shoes to wear. "Not really. I think you are okay," he said, gesticulating to indicate that my outfit was fine.

I was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Chelsea Football Club jersey that had my nickname, First Lady, printed on the back. It was his gift to me when he returned from London some months earlier.

"I think that's fine," he said, pointing at the pair of sandals I had just picked up from the floor. I was actually divided between those and the Nike trainers on the shoe rack. By this time, he had come into the room and sat on the bed. He watched as I stood in front of the mirror, trying to arrange my hair.

You are going to be worse than your mother," he said with a broad grin. "Come on, let's go." "Daddy, I am a lady, I have to look good," I retorted with a smile as I applied some lip gloss.

Where is the lady? You are a child!" "I am not a child. I am a lady,"I protested. "You are a child". "I am a lady". We continued this way as we walked down the stairs and we soon started ...............

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EPISOSDE 7 LOADING

EPISODE 7

Sometimes, it was the only way the next meal could be guaranteed. "But it was in spite of that experience that I got to where I am today. Thanks to education. I believe if those girls are able to get good education, they too can climb out of poverty and even become important people in the future."

We got to a junction, he made to turn right, and then he changed his mind and turned left. The car behind us blared its horn in protest and daddy raised one hand in apology. It was a pointless gesture though, because the rear window of our car was tinted. "For you..." he continued. "You are of a different background.

Your story is different. But don't ever take what you have for granted. Ordinarily, we should expect that you would end up better than those girls at the traffic light. But you know what, darling? It does not follow.

You also have to work hard, if not harder, because it is easier to climb up on an empty stomach than a full one. You know what that means?" "Yes, I do, “I answered. "Sometimes, hunger is what you need to drive you ahead in life.

I don't mean food hunger alone; I mean that deep desire to improve your condition in life and be a better person. That type of hunger was what most of us, children of poor parents, had. Unfortunately, after we have achieved success, we are not always able to pass the same hunger to our own children."

As we approached Aunty Gigis, a popular fast food place, he asked if I would like something to eat or drink. I said I wouldn't mind. We stopped and got ice cream and orange drink. We returned to the car and continued to drive around. By then, the traffic had begun to build up slightly.

It was approaching noon, and I could see many elegantly dressed people, some of them tightly packed in different cars, the number plates said, 'About to Wed. It made you wonder if all the people in those cars were the ones going to marry themselves.

But then you would see another car with ribbons and balloons flying around on the roof and you knew that was the one carrying the bride and the groom. I greatly enjoyed seeing all these, the hustles and the bustles. Daddy and I went on to discuss a lot of other things.

When we returned home shortly before one o'clock, Mum still hadn't come back. At the time, I didn't think any of the things we talked about meant anything more than random conversations. But here he was in this letter, telling me that the casual drive on that Saturday morning was deliberately arranged by him just so that we could have some of those very discussions I thought were random.

Can you imagine? I blurted out to myself as I sank further into the bed. I propped my head up with a pillow and settled to read more. "A few days before the day we went for that drive, your mother informed me that you had seen your menstrual period for the first time.

I was not sure how a father was supposed to receive that kind of news. I was a bit anxious as I wondered what responsibility this new phase of your Life imposed on me. I knew I had to have a conversation with you sooner or later, but I was not sure how to approach it or even what to talk about. After trying several approaches in my mind, I decided that the best way to go about it was to make the conversation as informal as possible. If I was able to make it look unplanned, there was a good chance that you would be relaxed and be in a proper frame of mind to understand what I was really going to say. Even then, I did not know how to start the conversation until we got to the ice cream place. That was my opportunity" I remembered everything now When we stopped at Aunty Gigis, I had ordered a combination of vanilla and chocolate ice cream. He ordered fresh orange juice. As we walked back to the car, he asked me, "Do you know that ......................................................


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EPISODE 8

Also, no one gets pregnant from a handshake," he said and laughed at his own attempt at a joke. I didn't find it funny though. "I know, Daddy. I am not stupid." "What do you know?" "Daddy, I have heard 'sex' before,"I said and rolled my eyes at him. "What? You have had what... ?" "Come on, Daddy. I mean heard, as in heaaaard,"I said, pulling at my ear.

"Phew!" We burst into laughter and he held his chest, saying he almost had a heart attack. "But... tell me, how did you know about... sex?" he asked. "Of course, everywhere.

On TV, from some of my classmates... it is also in some books, magazines... whatever." "Which magazines?" "Well, like Cosmopolitan," I answered as I bent to pick up the plastic bag to dispose of my empty ice cream cup. 'And where did you get that... Cosmopolitan?" "I found some copies in my Auntie Molara's room after she left for school, I said.

I regretted this immediately. Maybe I shouldn't have said it. I didn't want to put anybody in trouble. Auntie Molara was my mother's younger sister. She was in the university, but she stayed with us during the holidays.

I liked her a lot and always looked forward to having her around. "But you know some of these things are meant for adults only and you should not really be reading them," he said in a low and sober voice. "I will have to talk to your mother about that." "I am sorry, Daddy. I will not read that kind of stuff again."

He did not say anything. He still looked upset. "Ha-Ha, Mr. Bello, I said I am sorry," I tried to put an arm around his shoulder. "You better don't get us killed," he said and smiled as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. He seemed to like it when I called him Mr. Bello. I called him that whenever I wanted to get him to do something.

Mummy sometimes even got jealous that I was able to succeed with him where she had failed to get him to do some things. "Daddy, I hope you're not angry with Auntie Molara? It was not her fault. She didn't even know I took the magazine." He shook his head and said he was not angry with my aunty.

He would only tell her to be mindful of what she left lying around. "Sex is everywhere these days, sad to say," he lamented. "All over the place. Even commercials and advertisements do not appear complete nowadays without the trash... I heard that even some children's cartoon now contain references to sex. Or even these things that you call Hannah Montana, High School Musical or whatever..." "Hannah Montana? That's like, a zillion years ago. Besides, nobody watches TV anymore these days,"I said.

What do you mean, nobody watches TV anymore?" He asked, looking genuinely curious. "You can download and watch everything on Netflix..." what is Netflix?" "You don't know Netflix?"I was surprised. "No. Never heard of it,"he said. "Daddy, how would you not know Netflix? They stream videos online. They were the ones who did House of Cards." "What? You have watched that? "He sounded genuinely horrified. "Hmm, kind of," I answered cautiously.

"What do you mean 'kind of'?" "Daddy, I know what you are worried about. But I don’t  watch those things. Whenever I see that it is getting like that, I just fast forward it. He looked frustrated and worried at the same time.   'This is on the computer in the study? Or, do you have access to another one that I am not aware of?" "No. It is just that," I answered wondering if I had  not put myself in another trouble.

You see, Aliya, your mind is like a beautiful room. You have to be careful what you let in. And am not just talking about sex All sorts of Vulgarity, bad language, violence, they are all as bad. Watching those those is like dragging filth into your beautiful room.  You have to avoid them. I mean your mother have a duty to guide you, but we cannot be monitoring you all the time. He did not sound as upset as I feared.

I hated to make him angry for any reason. I also liked the example he gave about a beautiful room and dirty things. He reached for his bottle of orange from the cup holder and gulped down what was left of it. Then he switched on the car radio as if to signal the end of the discussion. He fumbled with the dial for a while. Then he switched it off again. "I also want you to be careful what kind of company you keep in school," he continued. "Some of these classmates that You said were talking about sex, who knows? It's quite possible they have started doing bad things with boys. Don't emulate them, don't be like them.

They may try to pressure you to join them. You should not do something simply because other people are doing it. The majority can be wrong. They may even call you a 'bush' girl if you refuse to follow their way. But as I have always told you, pressure from friends is never a good reason to do anything.

You also don't need anybody to approve of you or the kind of person that you are. You ......................................

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EPISDODE 8 LOADING

EPISODE 9

WORK
It wasn't until a week after I returned home from school that I finally got Daddy to sit down with me. I thanked him for the camera and the letter. I also told him that there were parts of the that I did not quite understand and would like him to explain further. He nodded and said he had expected this.

It was a Saturday morning We just had our morning prayers. I went down to the kitchen to make tea. Mum liked to boast that she was the only one who knew how to make her Husband’s  tea. I once challenged her and insisted on making Dad’s tea.  He took a sip and said it was really good. Mum took one look at the tea and said that couldn't be true, that he only said that to make me feel good. "Too much milk," she said.

It turned out that she was right. About an hour later, I went to clear away the tray but the tea was still there. It had gone cold, with the milk congealed on its surface to form a pattern that looked like the map of someplace. I doubted that he went beyond that first sip he took in my presence.

I asked him why he didn't drink his tea, and he said exactly what Mummy said earlier, that the milk was too much. Even then, I didn't give up. But all my subsequent attempts ended the same way. If the milk was not too much, the sugar would be too much or too little, or the tea itself would be too flat, and so on.

One day, Mum took pity on me and said, "Aliya, you better stop wasting your time and let me show you the secret." I asked her to show me. She laughed and asked how much I was willing to pay her for the coaching because she stood a great risk of losing her husband to me if she showed me how to make his tea.

I said I would ask my dad to pay her. "That one? He has Araldite in his hands. He won't pay," she sneered. She said the first thing to do was to ensure that the water was gently brought to a boiling point. She said it was always better to use the kettle, because if I used a pot, the water would lose most of its oxygen, and oxygen was important. I wondered what that meant.

She said I would add two tea bags to the mug. Everyone had their own mug in our house. Even though they were the same size, Daddy's mug was blue, Mummy's was red and mine was orange. We had other colours and sizes, but those were for guests. I recalled once Mummy and Daddy were standing in the kitchen, and Mummy was complaining about something.

Then Daddy held up her mug in response to whatever she was saving, without uttering a word. This got Mummy even more upset and she said, "Oh, you are saying it is my cup of tea, right?" They could be like that sometimes. The tea bag would go in the mug first, then I would pour the boiled water over the tea bags and leave it to brew for about five minutes to draw out the flavour.  After that, I would add two cubes of sugar.

As for the milk, even though she did not need any measurement to get the quantity right, she said I should add only five teaspoons. After three attempts, I became an expert in the chemistry of making Daddy's tea.

If I got it right, the tea would have a golden colour and it would taste almost too strong for me. But that was how he liked his tea. Since then, I had taken it upon myself to make his tea whenever I was home. That Saturday morning, I made his tea and made hot chocolate for myself. When I got to his door, I shouted for him to open up.

As I walked in, he grabbed his tea from the tray. A small glass table sat between two single chairs. He hurriedly cleared the table, but there was still a remote control on it, which tipped the tray to one side as I set it down on the table, almost upturning my beverage. He reached swiftly for my mug and lifted it off the tray.

"Thank you," he said as he took the first sip at his tea. "You have now mastered this thing," he said. I grinned and said thank you. The two chairs at the foot of the bed normally faced the television screen on the wall. He had rearranged them that morning to face each other. "Yes, I am ready for the interview," he said jovially as he sank into the chair. "That reminds me. Daddy, I don't think I want to be a doctor anymore.

I think I want to be a lawyer,"I said as I sipped at my drink. If he was surprised, he did not show it. When I was about to enter the senior class, he asked me what career I would like to pursue in future. At that time, I was so sure that I wanted to be a pilot. I liked their smart uniforms and the freedom to travel around the world.

Then there was a plane crash that killed so many people and I didn't want to................

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EPISODE 10


But now, I didn't think I wanted to be a doctor anymore. I hated the sight of blood. Then, I found John Grisham's books in our library. Since I started reading them, I began to think that maybe I should be a lawyer. "Is that a way of solving your Chemistry problem?" he asked "Nope," I said.

Oh, you have not seen my results?" I set down my mug and ran to my room to get my third term results. He hardly bothered to check my results. I believed he just took it for granted that I would do well. "Guess what I got in Chemistry,"I said as I got back to the room. "Well, I can guess that it was much better this term, giving that you look all excited,"he said. I handed the results to him.

What? How did you do it?"he said, obviously impressed. "I just worked harder, that's all,"I said, feeling good with myself: "I told you. I always tell you. There is nothing you cannot do if you set your mind to it.You see now?" Even I was surprised when I got my results and I saw that I got an A in Chemistry.

He studied the results closely as if he was looking for something. Then he put the results sheet on the tray. "Good job. Welldone." "Thank you, Daddy. But it was difficult. Just like Further Maths." "Well, you have proven to be up to the task. Like I have always told you, there is only one way to success, and that is the way of hard work.

There are no shortcuts. I am proud of you. I am delighted that you finally got the results that you deserve. But I am more impressed with the efforts that you have put into it; the determination, the hard work. Sometimes, these are more important than even the results." "Thank you, Daddy.

You know, when you said there is no short cut, you reminded me of a girl who cheated in Physics. I saw her copying from a piece of paper." "What now happened?" "Nothing. It's like I was the only one who saw her. Of course, it was none of my business. She got away with it. That's her luck." "That was not luck. My father would say that it was better to die in poverty than to be a prosperous thief. I guess the same thing applies here.

It is better to fail and fail and fail and keep on trying than to cheat and pass. Sooner or later, her dishonesty will catch up with her. Passing an examination is never enough in life." "She knew I saw her. After the paper, she came to me looking embarrassed. She thanked me for not exposing her and said she was not proud of what she did. I asked her why she had to do it. She said her parents would be mad at her if she didn't do well.

She said they were always comparing her with her younger sister, which makes her feel bad. I wonder ii'she cheats in other subjects too." "Well, that still did not justify what she did." "Of course, it didn't, and I told her that. But Daddy, I also think that her parents were wrong to make her feel that way. I mean, it is not nice to be comparing people like that... well, thank God that I don't have a sister.

Yes, and why that?" "Why what?" "I mean,why don't I have a sister, or... a brother?" "Well, God knows I love you so much and He doesn't want me to share the love with anyone else, that's why," Daddy said and laughed. "I mean...," he started to say again, then his phone rang. He picked it up and peered at the screen.

Hey, how you dey now?' He said in pidgin. Whoever was on the other side must have said something quite funny to which Daddy laughed so loud, showing all his dentition, which had been missing a canine since I was born. I could see a remnant of something he ate had been caught between his teeth. It must be the reason he had been working his mouth in a particular, funny kind of way, hoping the thing, whatever it was, would come off.

A simple floss or toothpick would have solved the problem. But I know Daddy could be like that sometimes. And I liked him whenever he was like that. Ordinarily, he seemed to be incapable of doing anything wrong. Instead of admiration however, his perfection only terrified me. But when he had food particle stuck between his teeth, or he missed a belt hole on his trouser, or spilled tea on his caftan, evidences that he was not perfect after all, I felt more comfortable with him. "Aba, what was I saying?" He asked as he flung his phone on the....................

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EPISODE 11

He would counter by saying that the reason he did not want to share a room with her in the first place was that he did not want to compete for space with all her shoes and bags that seemed to be increasing by the day as if she was Imelda Marcos, the former first lady of Philippines, who was said to have owned more than 3000 pair of shoes.

Mum would insist that she was better than him, after all she didn't clutter her bed with her shoes and bags the way he did with his books. Even that morning, Daddy had a couple of books open, face down on the bed. He was the only person I knew who read several books at the same time.

By the way, it is time you read this book," he said as he returned to his seat with Gibran's book, The Prophet. When I first saw the book in the library, I thought it was about Prophet Muhammed. But Dad said it was not, and that I should read it myself someday. He ruffled through the pages slowly, his eyes darting left and right.

He soon found whatever he was looking for. "Here, read, from 'Your children . ."Fie pointed out the spot he wanted me to read from. I read aloud, slowly. "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday." I flipped the page to continue, but he stopped me. "That will do, for now. But do you understand what he is saying?" he asked. "This Ka-hl-il Gibran is a very wise man," I said, struggling to recall the first name.

I had to quickly check the cover again, to get it right. "I think I now understand why you always sound like you know everything. It must be these books that you read." "Aww, c'mon, Aliya, nobody knows everything," he said, laughing as he waved off the compliment. "In fact, the more you know, the more you realize what you don't know.

But you are right.There is so much wisdom in books. Through a single book, you could experience many lifetimes and many worlds. When I think of the generation of my parents, I feel sorry for them. Most of them did not have the opportunity to go to school, so they never learnt to read. Can you imagine, so much knowledge everywhere, yet some people cannot access them. This is why I even fear for your generation.

Most of you can read, but you do not read. Very sad. Instead, many of you waste your time liking up yourselves on Facebook instead of reading real books. I shouldn't be surprised though. Many years ago, Albert Einstein predicted this moment. He said a day would come that technology would surpass human interaction and the world would have a generation of idiots. I think we are there now." "But I am not an idiot,"I protested. "Of course, you're not. And that is why we are having this conversation. But you must never stop reading and learning. That is the point."

Yes, I understand," I said with a nod. "But what did Gibran mean by 'For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams'?" "I think he meant that parents should not try to determine the future of their children, much of which they-will not be a part of.

He also seems to be saying that life keeps changing and the world that our children would live in would be very different from our own in a way that we cannot even imagine." "Is that the same thing he meant by 'You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you'?"I asked.

Yes, in a way. It could also mean that even we parents have so much to learn from our children. Young people look ahead with hope, they see opportunities that they could explore. On the other hand, many adults look back with regrets, they see opportunities that have been missed. We have a different way of seeing the world. Certainly, it would be better for us if we can see the world more from the eyes of young people."
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EPISODE 12

The Gandhi Test
Two bright orange sofas and two green single chairs formed a semi-circle against a large window that could easily pass for a door if it had been downstairs. A big television screen perched on the opposite wall in permanent sleep. Even though it was called the family living room, it was the most underused part of our house.

Hardly anyone ever sat there. The house was another reason I had suspected that my parents did not plan for me to be an only child. Why would they build a house that big otherwise? Certainly, five bedrooms and three living rooms could not have been originally intended for a family of three.

On one side of the wall was a huge mahogany cabinet with decorated glass doors. It held tiny memories of Dad's many travels around the world. A young Arab boy riding a camel and a crystal Bud Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, from Dubai; a Maasai couple from Nairobi; Eiffel Tower from Paris; Ijambulo, the lion cub, from South Africa; two hand-painted ostrich egg shells from Tanzania; the pyramids and the Sphinx from Egypt; the Tower Bridge and the bright red telephone booth from London; the Statue of Liberty from New York and several others. For every country he visited, Dad ensured he brought back something. Mum and I had also made important contributions to what Daddy called his museum of mementos, even though we did not travel as much.

Mum was responsible for the decorated plates, which she got from China; and I, the soft camel with a jingle bell that I bought when we travelled to Dubai some years before. Daddy had suggested we moved to the living room. Mummy peeped in about an hour earlier to say breakfast was ready. He did not like to eat in his room. He said it would leave the place smelling of food. He also said he did not feel like going down to the dining area. I followed Mummy down to the kitchen to bring some of the food upstairs in a tray.

It was a simple meal of akara, bread and a bottle of Coke. That was his favourite weekend breakfast. He would tear open the loaf of bread and stuff two or three akara balls into it. He would close it back and squeeze tight to crush the balls into the bread.

He would say he was making an akara bugger. Mummy would tease him and say, "You can take the man out of the village, but you cannot take the village out of the man." He would respond with an indifferent shrug and say, "Na you sabi, city girl." Mummy was of a different background from Daddy. Her parents were middle class and relatively comfortable.

She attended a Federal Government Girls College, while he attended the village secondary school. She had a degree in Nursing from a University in the UK, while he went to university in Nigeria. They met when he was writing a story on road accident victims as a cub reporter. She was a young nurse working in the Accident and Emergency ward of the hospital. He told me that at the time they met, he had only a pair of jeans and two shirts.

She also earned more salary than him. But even the meagre salary he earned would not be paid, sometimes up to three months. It was however, a case of love at first sight for the two of them. They got married about a year after they met. "Now, what were you saying?" Daddy asked in-between mouthfuls of akara burger.

Crumbs of akara and bread fell on the floor and he bent to pick them up into the tray. "In your letter, you said I should always try to do the right thing. And... you also said if I was ever in doubt about right and wrong, I should apply the Gandhi test. So, what is the Gandhi test?" "Have you ever heard of Mahatma Gandhi?"He asked.

Yes, he was once President of India; he had these Harry Porter glasses," I said and formed two zeroes around my eyes with my hands. "I wondered why he went around in a white bed sheet though. Was he so poor?" Dad laughed.

"Gandhi could have made all the money he wanted if he was so inclined. But he chose to live a life of poverty to demonstrate that a human being does not really need much to survive. A contented person is a very rich person. Also, Gandhi was never a President. He fought for his country to gain independence from Great Britain."

Oh yes, I forgot that in India they only have Prime Ministers not Presidents. Was he the Prime Minister?"I asked. "No, that would be Jawaharlal Nehru, the father of Indira Gandhi, who also became the prime minister. Nehru was India's..........................
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Guy u really tried many people have been doing copy and paste no body has summarized it like this since the PDF is not online.

mynd44 lalasticlala pls take it to front page for the sake of the jambites.
This guy tried so much. And no body has done it like this.

EPISODE 13

Dating
Daddy had finished his Coke now and was lying on the sofa, his head propped up with one of the throw cushions. “You, are you not going to eat? Madam lawyer.” “I am okay with the chocolate for now, I will eat later,” I answered. At that moment, I had something more important on my mind than food. All the other questions I had asked him were easy enough and straightforward.This one, I didn’t even know how to start.

Daddy, you know I am 16,” I said matter-of-fact. It was a rather foolish way to start. Of course, he knew I was 16. He was trying to turn on the TV on the wall with a remote control.The TV refused to come on. He turned the remote control over in his hand, slapped it against the other hand and pointed it towards the television again. When it refused to come on still, he opened the battery case of the remote control and took out the two batteries. One of them dropped and rolled towards me. I picked it up and handed it to him.

He muttered a thank you, re-inserted the batteries and replaced the cover with a noisy clap. “Now, I command you to come on,” he said to the TV as he pointed the remote control at it again, like a magician waving his wand. But still the TV refused to yield, looking black and dead like those television sets I once saw at a market in Lagos. Big Mummy said they were called ‘No Testing’.

Even though they were very cheap, you were not allowed to test if they actually worked before you buy them. She said, sometimes one might get lucky. But more often than not, one would have ended up paying to bring a piece of junk into one’s house.

I couldn’t see the sense in that. “Maybe the batteries are dead,” I volunteered, trying hard to hide my irritation. Here I was, about to ask the most important question of my life. Yet, all that this man cared about was his television. “I hope it is just that,” he said. “Anyway, what were you saying?” he said as he laid back on the sofa, placing the remote control on his chest. “I should have some batteries in my room. You know we have a match this evening.”
By “we”, he meant Chelsea. He was a devout fan of the English football club. One evidence of his devotion was the fact that all the bibs that I used as a baby were branded with the club’s logo. Mummy would often joke that she was surprised he did not name me Chelsea. In addition to the bib, almost all my first belongings on earth were blue and bore the club’s logo. And this included my feeding bottle.

Mummy said she complained vehemently at the time that blue is a boy’s colour, but Daddy would not be deterred. All of the artifacts of my Chelsea childhood were still held in a box in the pantry. I had come to like Chelsea myself Perhaps, that was inevitable. Mummy would say I was a Chelsea fan by genetic engineering.

She was not really keen on football. I was also not so emotionally committed like Daddy. But we.....................
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Thank You for recommendation

ProsperOkec:
Guy u really tried many people have been doing copy and paste no body has summarized it like this since the PDF is not online.

mynd44 lalasticlala pls take it to front page for the sake of the jambites.
This guy tried so much. And no body has done it like this.

EPISODE 14

“You see, Aliya, dating, boyfriend or whatever you call it, are not bad in themselves. But… okay, let me even start by saying that I appreciate that we are having this conversation. Okay?” He looked sort of nervous himself. He gripped my hands, gently but firmly. His touch felt reassuring and I could feel myself calming down.

He went silent for a brief moment as if he was thinking of what to say.Then he continued. “At your age, relationship between a boy and a girl is mostly ruled by one thing, infatuation. You know what that means, I suppose?” “Of course, I know the meaning of infatuation. Like you have a crush on someone, you think you love the person, but it is not really love.” “You are right. That’s largely what it is.

To add to that, I would say that infatuation is when you have exaggerated feelings towards someone in a way that is almost foolish. But such feelings are also often short-lived. While they last however, you would find that you were willing to do anything to satisfy the object of your feelings. You would want to be with that person all the time, and nothing else would seem to matter to you.” “Wow, but that sounds like some kind of sickness.” “Not exactly.

It is just that matters of the heart can be emotionally challenging for everyone, even adults. But it is even worse at your age; with hormones running riot, and you still trying to discover yourself. I seriously doubt that any teenager could enter into that kind of relationship and not be distracted from their studies. And anything that could distract you from your studies at this stage of your life brings your entire future into jeopardy. Do you know that?” I nodded.
Okay, let me ask you…” he continued. But I was already thinking about what he was saying. Was I infatuated with Bobo? A couple of times after I tried to return the teddy bear and failed, I caught myself thinking about him. But I told myself that I only wanted an opportunity for us to finish the conversation we started that day during prep.
I also wish I knew what he had wanted to say before we were alerted that the duty master was heading towards our class.

That was after I had told him I was not his girlfriend. Was he going to agree with me and just walk away? Or would he have persisted and tried to make me change my mind? After I learnt that he had relocated to Ireland without telling me, I was even angrier with myself that I did not shove his stupid teddy in his face back then and warn him never to talk to me again. However, after a while, I was not so angry anymore. In place of anger, there was this sadness, this loneliness that I felt, which I never knew was possible. For a while, I actually felt like he dumped me.

One day, I waited till everyone had gone for lunch and the hostel was quiet. I brought out the teddy and threw it in the waste bin by the hostel gate.

Almost an hour later, when I was going to class for the afternoon prep, I had to walk past the bin. I could see one of the teddy’s legs sticking out, the rest of its body..............................................
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