The Bold Winner's Blog

Some people (myself inclusive) find it difficult to beg or ask other people to give them anything. This difficulty has nothing to do with pride as a lot of people may think, but has a lot to do with past experiences. . People who have been too dependent on others in the past had to put up with a lot of crap. You know for some people when they are helping you or they're always the ones providing stuff for you, they begin to feel like they have complete power over you. . They begin to order you around, they tell you what to do and try to dictate to you how to live your life. Some may even maltreat you. Although, not everyone behaves like this when they are providing anything for you, but a good number of people do. . As a result of this,  people who value their self respect and their opinions learn the hard way to provide the things they need for themselves by themselves, so they don't have to put up with insults from benefactors and the likes. . It works for them and so

"Madam, please adjust, so I can sit down comfortably." . "Where do you want me to adjust to? Can't you see that I've reached the end? I don't know whether some of you don't have eyes!" . "But madam, no be quarrel.. I just said you should shift a little bit, the seat is tight.." . "Something must be wrong with you.. where should I go, maybe I should sit on the window?" . "You're the one something is wrong with… what do you mean by that.." . And bla bla … it didn't end well(couple of abuses) .. but you get the gist already and have probably witnessed something like this play out in public transport. 😂 . The thing about this scenario is that the problem could have been solved by just a simple movement from the person who was told to shift. . When people ask you do something they feel you're supposed to do, somehow, they expect you to at least act like you've actually heard what they have said

Before my journey to the West, I already heard a lot of negative things about the Yorubas. I heard they're saboteurs that must never be trusted.. I heard they like "ofe mmanu" and like to add a lot of pepper to all their food. Some said they were not nice people at all.. I heard a whole lot of things. . And then National Service brought me here to see for myself. My first landlord was a Yoruba man and a Muslim. I expected him to be mean and unkind, but to my surprise, he was the opposite. I've never seen a nicer landlord than this man. He took me as his own son. He made sure I had everything I asked for and never gave me any troubles at all. Even when I had to leave, he gave me extra months to arrange myself. "Was this man for real?" . Sometimes he called me aside just to give me advice as a young man who was still trying to find his way. Whenever he was celebrating, he offered me food and drinks and cared to know how I was doing. The experience I had w

Growing up, I used to expect people to care about me or show me love because I lost my dad early. I craved for attention from people because I at least expected some sympathy from them. But guess what? Nobody gave a shit. And today I've come to realize that it was for good. . Nobody gave a shit whether I had a dad or not or whether it was difficult for us growing up or not. Who cares? No one wanted to know that. It hurt me real badly at first as I hoped that those who were closest to my father would care about me.. but they didn't. . Usually, this is a similar situation out there for people who have lost loved ones or going through challenges of life. A lot of people wouldn't give a damn whether you've eaten today or not or whether you fell down the street or whether you went through a heartbreak or lost your job.. nobody really gives a hoot. People have their own problems to worry about. So why should they bother about you? . Armed with this realization, I eve

Sometime last year during a training, I was assigned a task with one of my colleagues:  to take an important examination on behalf of the firm which would qualify us for some big businesses. The business required at least 2 people to pass the exam. . We were given over 3 weeks to prepare. We took the courses, researched the internet individually and we both felt confident that we would pass. As a FUTO graduate, I no wan fall hands and my colleague (finished from UNILAG).. didn't want to fall hands either. . We had points to prove. The D-Day came.. we walked in majestically into the computer test center which had cameras installed to monitor us and we took the exam. He came out before me, I took my time (mostly staring at hard questions). . I eventually came out 30 mins after he did. The look on his face wasn't good.. the exam results were instant and he had already checked. He failed. He asked me to check mine.. I was reluctant to check ( maybe I thought that delaying th