My Shitty Experience

My-shitty-ExperienceWe all have shitty experiences, however I never thought mine would play out the way it did. Here’s what went down:

Ken and I had been dating for over 2 years and so far our relationship had been great. Every Friday, we would meet after work and have dinner together; this was our tradition and we loved it.

On this fateful Friday, I got to work in high spirits because I was excited that I was going to meet my Ken after 5. During the lunch break, I ordered Milicious’ famous Pilaf rice. It was delicious… but then, a few hours after my meal I got a quick notice from my tummy requesting that I vacate some unwanted residents. I didn’t yield to this request, as I was very busy meeting up with deadlines.

Before I knew it, it was after 5 and I got a text message from Ken:

“Hey Babe, I’ll be at your end in 5mins.”

I quickly rushed to clear my table to save my Boo the stress of waiting.

Fast-forward to 2 hours later: we had just finished eating a lovely meal at Prime Chinese, VI, and I stepped it down with ice-cream for desert. Another exciting Friday with Ken. As we headed home, we sat in the back seat of the car, lost in each other’s company as Oga Mike drove quietly.  Suddenly, nature took it course and there was a rumble in my tummy. I told myself, “Nah, I can handle this, I’ll be home soon.”

Unknown to me, the “Karashika” in my village weren’t asleep oh. We drove into heavy traffic and I began sweating profusely, even with the AC on. I couldn’t keep a straight face; it felt like my tummy was the only functioning part of my body and I was losing my mind slowly.

Hmmmm, at some point, the traffic wore jeans and dark shades. I thought to myself, “Could this be the end time?” Boo kept yarning but I was totally deaf to whatever it was he was saying. I looked through the window and sighted a Mr. Biggs not too far away.

Without thinking, I dashed out of the car, and Ken – who was surprised at my sudden action – ran after me, screaming my name. I showcased a bit of athletic skill as I flew over a couple of gutters to get to the other side, feeling like Moses with the Israelites.

I stormed into the eatery with Ken running behind me, totally oblivious to whoever was looking at me; what I was going through was greater than the stares. I stormed into the toilet like Superman on a rescue mission, with Ken right behind me banging on the door and asking, “Are you okay?”

Without shame, I screamed, “Get me a damn tissue!”

After the unwanted tenant was out, and after the feeling of relief, the shame finally caught me. I looked at boo and told him what just went down. He looked dazed for a second, and then we both burst into laughter.

It was a shitty experience, but it could definitely have been worse.

Do you have a shitty experience to share? Please give us the gist in the comment section.

Imo Happened To Me



If you’re a nine-to-fiver, you know that salary is never enough.

To effectively make the best of your salary – and still get the things you need, and still afford the things you want – is almost impossible. I learned this the hard way.

I was posted to Imo state for my youth service, despite plans to stay in Abuja – where I would have had maximum comfort, right down to having a driver take me wherever I needed to go. However, knowing that the comfort zone does not breed success, I was determined to make it work: I moved to Imo and embraced the challenge.

It took me ages to find a house; the agents seemed determined to drain the life out of me. With N2,500 per agent to look at one or two houses only, and with all the agents showing me the same houses over and over again, the costs quickly piled up. It didn’t seem like much at first until I’d paid like 10 agents! But I finally found a house.

I had roommates, learned how to live with people and learned tolerance. I saw suffering in the rural areas, away from my “perfect Abuja”. I saw people struggle to live from hand to mouth. I got better at standing up for myself, and my empathy threshold increased. Life is not perfect; people enjoy, people suffer, but we all find ways to make our situations work.

Imo was a real learning experience: I learned to survive with N19,800 only. Because of my time there, I’m better at planning my expenses, living alone, standing up for myself, relating with colleagues and more. Imo prepared me for a 9-5, and for the constant struggle of never having enough money. It taught me that things won’t always be perfect and situations may not be ideal, but we can rise above it, learn and evolve into better people.

Thank you Imo.