Dear friend,

I got a mail from a friend who is an alumnus of the prestigious Harvard University. He has the following to say about OUR own University of Ibadan;
“Actually if one attended UI, they wasted their money and time. How about that for a start? UI as the oldest institution of higher education in Nigeria, does not have worldwide reputation worth anything except the pride and enlarged ego by those that attended the university. When the top 1000 colleges and universities in the world was catalogued a few years ago, UI did not make the list, but one South Africa institution managed to make the cut. Nigeria as the most populous black nation in the world, is yet to earn respect and collateral value nurturing anything to worldwide standards. It is about dance in the square hi-5ing with ‘beer parlor chants and cheers’, while serious nations are placing their institutions on enviable lists and using such to attract investments and grants. UI has not attracted say $10m or N2b in any given year in research grants. If it has, let it say when and for what? How come UI leadership did not cash in on Wole Soyinka Nobel Prize status and sought to create an institute in his name and use the ‘NP’ to attract literal reputation to the university and in turn revenue? No, given petty jealousies and leadership anchored on outdated senses, they refuse to see value in their own. No university in Nigeria has a Noble Prize winner on its faculty. Am I missing something? Universities and colleges are reputed based on faculty ranking, research/surveys/­studies, and relevance to their local economy or Nigeria at large. Tell me the last research/survey/­study done by UI, that spoke to issues relevant to Nigeria or Ibadan its home base? Flashing degrees and taking local chieftaincy titles to bolster one’s exaggerated/fragile ego – nonsense, is not what was/is expected from so called educated Nigerians. Is it? Education should add collateral content and bolster one’s self worth and confidence in order to address and deal with problems that confront their community. Using that premise, please discuss Nigeria of 2015 where there are plenty doctors and doctorates, yet the country is sicker and sickened. UI has churned out more PhDs than any other Nigeria university, mostly ‘permanent head damages’, interested in the glamor of the doctorate but not given to heavy lifting – intellectual prowess. Nigeria colleges and universities are just four-walls and white elephants anchored, run and manned by pretenders holding PhDs. How about that? Lastly, tell me when IMF, World Bank, UN, cited a study/research/­survey, done by any Nigeria university or college on issues confronting Nigeria? Never. Nigeria just produce degree holders who may end up doing something other than what they learned. At best, they are degree milling industries. Please prove me wrong. Just my 2 kobo.”

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Ore Afolayan’s Curriculum Vitae

Residential Address Mobile Number: +234 810 228 0665

6 Ashimiu close, Obadore, LASU/Isheri, Lagos. E-mail: 0reafolayan1@gmail.com

AFOLAYAN, OREOLUWA OLABODE
BIODATA
Nationality: Nigerian.
Sex: Male.
Marital Status: Single.
Date of Birth: September 3, 1991.
State of Origin: Kwara State.

CAREER OBJECTIVE

Dedicated to contributing positively to a highly respected and value adding company by providing a wealth of media experience, ICT knowledge and a vast knowledge of industrial and organizational psychology, while at the same time open to developing skills that are valuable to both my personal growth as well as the advancement of my organization.

TECHNICAL SUMMARY

Broad understanding of Computer Engineering, System Coupling, Installation and Configuration, Journalism, News reporting, News writing, System Networking, Industrial & Organizational Psychology, Personnel Psychology and Managerial Psychology.
Well versed in the use of Windows XP, Windows Vista, Windows 7, Windows 8. Others are Corel Draw, Microsoft Word, Microsoft Powerpoint, Microsoft Excel, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Premiere Pro, Adobe Page Maker.

EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND
INSTITUTIONS ATTENDED WITH DATES
2010-Date: UNIVERSITY OF IBADAN, IBADAN, OYO STATE.
2001-2007: MANDATE PRIVATE COLLEGE, AKESAN, ALIMOSHO, LAGOS STATE.
1995-2001: MATE NURSERY & PRIMARY SCHOOL, KETU, LAGOS STATE.
EDUCATIONAL QUALIFICATIONS
B.Sc PSYCHOLOGY [IN VIEW (2010-Date)]
WEST AFRICAN SENIOR SCHOOL CERTIFICATE (2008)
SCHOOL LEAVING CERTIFICATE (2001)
PROFESSIONAL QUALIFICATIONS WITH DATE
DIPLOMA, COMPUTER ENGINEERING (2008)

WORK EXPERIENCE
MARCH 2009– OCTOBER 2009 (COMPUTER ENGINEER AT A&M COMPUTERS, ALIMOSHO, LAGOS).
• TROUBLESHOOT FAULTY COMPUTERS TO OBTAIN BASIC INFORMATION WITH WHICH CASES ARE PURSUED
• REPAIR DAMAGED SYSTEMS SINGLEHANDEDLY OR WITH A TEAM
• RENDER CONSULTANCY SERVICES TO CLIENTS TO AVOID FUTURE RE-OCCURRENCES
AUGUST 2013– OCTOBER 2013 (INTERN AT FREGENE STUDIOS, JIBOWU, LAGOS).
• CISCO NETWORK DISCOVERY VIA THE USE OF CISCO NETWORK COLLECTOR SOFTWARE WHICH USES SIMPLE NETWORK MANAGEMENT PROTOCOL (SNMP) AND CISCO DISCOVERY PROTOCOL (CDP) FOR THE DISCOVERY, INVENTORY
• IMPLEMENTATION OF DHCP SERVICES ON CISCO 4507R MULTI-LAYER SWITCHES.
• GENERAL NETWORK MONITORING AND REPORTING FOR LAST DAY OF SUPPORT(LDoS), End of Sales (EoS) OF NETWORK DEVICES.
AUGUST 2014 – PRESENT (MEDIA DIRECTOR AT PREMIER PROGRESSIVES FORUM, IBADAN, OYO).

POSITIONS OF RESPONSIBILITY
• CHIEF TECHNOLOGY OFFICER, FUZZY LOGIC SYSTEMS
• TEAM LEADER, POSITIVIA
• PRESIDENT, PSYCHOLOGY LITERARY & DEBATING SOCIETY. UI. IBADAN
• CHAIRMAN, GUILD OF EDITORS, UCJ, UI, IBADAN
• GENERAL SECRETARY, KATANGA REPUBLIC INDEPENDENT ELECTORAL COMMITTEE
• SPORTS EDITOR, PSYCHOLOGY PRESS, UI, IBADAN
• BUSINESS EDITOR, INDYPRESS ORGANIZATION, UI, IBADAN
• FEATURES EDITOR, UNION OF CAMPUS JOURNALISTS, UI, IBADAN
• EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, UNION OF CAMPUS JOURNALISTS, UI, IBADAN
• VICE PRESIDENT EDITORIAL, UNION OF CAMPUS JOURNALISTS, UI, IBADAN
AWARDS WON WITH DATE EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND
BEST GRADUATING STUDENT, A & M COMPUTER PROJECTS SEVICES 2008
RUNNER UP, PRESSMAN OF THE YEAR, PSYCHOLOGY, UI 2013 RUNNER UP, PRESSMAN OF THE YEAR, THE SOCIAL SCIENCES, UI 2014
SEMIFINALIST, NIGERIAN CAMPUS ENTERPRISE CHALLENGE 2014
PUBLICATIONS
SOCIAL MEDIA 101
CONFERENCES/WORKSHOPS ATTENDED WITH DATES
MEDIA CAREER SERVICES WORKSHOP FOR YOUNG JOURNALISTS AUG 2013
PUBLIC DISCUSSION ON CORRUPTION, RADIO NETHERLANDS 2013
AFRICAN STUDENTS FOR LIBERTY CONFERENCE 2014
STRENGTHS AND INTERESTS
• Excellent communication skills.
• Great team player.
• Fast learning ability and always willing to learn new things.
HOBBIES
Writing, Public Speaking, Brainstorming

REFERENCES

Amazing Miracles

Finally, An outpouring of amazing 
miracles. The Lord is good! 
It has actually taken a really 
long while to come to terms and 
write this down. For a while I 
have questioned everything 
around me, great minds were 
always there to tell me that the 
answers were really round me 
and I failed to see them. Now, 
I’m very much pleased to look 
back into time and rejoice on all 
the miracles that have 
surrounded me all my life. 
For those that don’t know me, 
I’m Tony by name, grew up in a 
decent traditional family of four, 
and raised Christian in a bible- 
believing church. I was always 
taught to believe in God, Jesus, 
prayers and miracles. As a family 
we went to various church 
functions at least three times a 
week, sometimes 4 or 5 times a 
week when we had vigils, special 
prayer meetings, choir meetings, 
children meetings, evangelism 
team meetings and a host of 
others. We lived in almost a 
triangle church, house and 
school [for my parents work], 
we rarely played with our Muslim 
neighbours as that was being on 
equally yoke with unbelievers, I 
was encouraged to always invite 
them for church functions and 
preach to them, as the only and 
the best God out there was 
ours but I never imagined myself 
attending a Muslim function or 
even eating the deliciously 
roasted Sallah meat that was 
always brought to our house, 
which was considered as ritual 
meat, even our dog was just 
too holy to have a piece, it 
always ended in the dustbin. 
Growing up as a kid, I had 
always wanted a bike; all my 
friends and cousins had one, my 
parents definitely could afford 
one but they just wouldn’t get 
me, then I remembered what we 
were taught in church; a 
prayer-answerin g God, so I 
decided to take my request to 
God in prayers even had a one- 
day fast, well, after almost a 
decade of praying, I realised 
that God doesn’t work that way 
as my bike just meant nothing 
to him, he was too busy solving 
the serious issues in the world. 
Quite frequently while in church 
on Friday evenings NEPA (as it 
was called then), the electricity 
company always made it a point 
of duty to cut power off. I 
always loved this, a huge, dark 
room with candles, always gave 
me a good chance at gazing at 
Sister Shade’s round and 
developing breasts or even sit 
behind her and slightly rub my 
hands on her firm buttocks while 
pretending to pray and speak in 
tongues, while this goes on, the 
church keeps praying for power 
to be restored and after 5 
minutes without power being 
restored, they decide to move 
on with the agenda. I guess 
they also realised that God 
didn’t work that way, he didn’t 
really care if his word/message 
was preached in a well lit zone 
or not, or he just enjoyed 
watching me on my escapades. 
It is as it was back then a very 
common practice for Nigerians 
from various religions and 
families to always pray for the 
country. This was on every 
prayer point in church and even 
on our morning and evening 
devotions. I always did these 
prayers devotedly, praying for 
God to touch the hearts of the 
leaders, give us a great leader, 
and clean up the mess in the 
nation. Just simply make things 
better. Still things got worse 
daily, the government got more 
repressive under IBB regime 
which I was raised, when he 
stepped aside, it was a huge 
Miracle! As we all prayed for it, 
God finally got some free time 
and had a look at Nigeria, well 
we just had to suffer under this 
regime for 9years, but anyway 
we were all to glad to think of 
that. After him came an interim 
government which I barely count 
in history and then the regime 
of the dark goggled Abacha. We 
all thought this was the change, 
the turning point, until a few 
months and years down the 
road, we realised that he was 
even worse than IBB, I actually 
questioned myself, well a miracle 
to take IBB away and then bring 
in Abacha, and did God really 
understand Nigeria at all, did he 
really think this through, who 
was his adviser on Nigerian 
issues? Or were we being 
punished for some sins I was not 
informed of yet? [you know God 
likes punishing generations for 
the sins of just one man, even 
though they never actually did 
it, it was just his way of 
showing his unending love, 
remember Adam and Eve? Some 
folks that we all now suffering 
because of, I doubt they would 
get a lot of high-fives or hugs 
when we meet in heaven, it 
might end with a nosebleed]. 
So back to Abacha and his 5 
year miracle after which he died, 
I remember this vividly as I was 
running errands (nice way to 
put it), I was actually buying 
smoked fish off the roadside for 
our dinner, when the news of 
his death came, everyone 
jumped in the air, dancing and 
praising God, it was another 
huge miracle galore and a 
victory for God, albeit took him 
5 years. I was quite happy that 
the lunatic dictator had gone, 
more when I learnt he did with 
2 Indian prostitutes around, 
wasn’t a bad way to die actually 
I thought. Well, my joy simply 
lasted the walk back home 
because I just had a feeling that 
God would just pull another slick 
miracle again with his very 
impressive choice of leaders. 
History would show that I was 
quite right on this. 
Nigeria would go on with 
another military dictator for 
right about a year, then 
another miracle would happen, a 
really big one in our history, 
many religious leaders were 
already predicting the return to 
civilian rule and democracy, 
which was not hard to see as it 
was already in the news or 
even mentioned months before, 
but that wouldn’t stop some 
leaders even claiming to be the 
chosen one to lead the nation, 
as somehow God fancied them 
for the job, well, it never 
happened, guess God preferred 
the ex-military guys, he just 
loved the look of a man in 
uniform, and once a soldier 
always a soldier they say. 
The “civilians” took over office 
and this began the era of 
political and democratic fraud, 
but God still liked the guys, gave 
them 8 years in office, he might 
have wanted to give them 
another 4 years but guess he 
thought it would be too obvious 
if he changed the thousands of 
constitutions in Nigeria overnight 
and also probably because he 
had a few more earthquakes 
and Tsunami shows to run in 
Asia, so he was on the move 
again, for the umpteenth time. 
During all these madness, I finally 
got into the University to study 
mechanical engineering; I was out 
of home, Yeah! Now it was time 
to experiment liquor and 
cigarettes, to take my gospel of 
pressing breasts to a larger 
audience. But for some reasons, 
my prayers had reduced, now 
they were just more of a ritual 
as I have more or less 
understood how God works, I 
prayed when I got on a bus, I 
prayed before exams, even 
though I had small pieces of 
papers up my socks, it was 
more of a “Don’t let me get 
caught one”, I occasionally 
prayed to make heaven, I had a 
perfect 4 lines prayer, which I 
recited for this. 
Well, outside my nuclear life, the 
entire nation was suffering 
under this new rule, that 
brought nothing more than the 
same old same just in a 
different look. Millions ended up 
below poverty level. The entire 
country was deteriorating and 
at an alarming rate, but the 
only thriving businesses were 
the religious ones, churches, 
mosques on every corner, it was 
now getting difficult to get a 
good night sleep as every night 
was a vigil, and by 5am, it was 
the call for prayer on a public 
address system for the 15 man 
congregation, life in short 
became more of a miraculous 
misery. God was sure smiling as 
his houses were springing up. 
Lest I forget, our pastor 
actually bought a few news cars 
and a jet. Yes, a jet! What a 
wonderful day that was, we 
went to church, we were shown 
pictures of him posing next to 
his jet, same pose from the 
P.Diddy video, we danced, sang 
and praised God, now his 
servant now owned a jet to 
travel around and preach the 
word, while we second-grade 
servants were not even entitled 
to a bike, at least mine never 
came. Then a few months later, 
we finally inaugurated our 
university, notice the use of 
“we”, because that’s how we 
refer to it, “we” are a family, 
even though I couldn’t afford to 
go there, over 98% of us in the 
church could not afford to 
attend it, we still donated 
toward the course, sowed a 
seed and we had to do it with a 
big smile on, as God now had his 
own school to further 
indoctrinate the children. Not to 
mention that most of us could 
not even afford 3 meals a day, 
still we were asked to donate, 
pray and expect miracles. It 
seemed God just listened to the 
pastors’ prayers alone, as he 
got chubbier, finer, damn those 
$2000 Armani suits and all. I 
even considered learning the 
trade myself. 
As the miracles kept pouring, I 
visited Abonema in the south- 
south region where my brothers 
in the Niger-delta also were also 
stuck in churches, mosques 
(mostly churches though) 
praying for the oil companies to 
come to their senses and clean 
up the mess, for the 
government to take a stand 
and save the heart of Nigeria, 
for a miraculous clean up of the 
rivers and creeks that have left 
many unemployed, desolate and 
in dire poverty. When would God 
remember them I asked? When 
would he put down the requests 
of the religious and political 
leaders and answers those of 
the common man? And if he was 
still punishing us for some 
ancestral sin; when would he put 
his idea of love aside and start 
using ours? As it seems we 
surely on a different definition 
of love. But the miracle showed 
up while I was still complaining, 
God proved his miraculous self 
once again; burst pipelines killing 
hundreds, pollution and disease 
out breaks, rise of militancy, 
which has led to the death of 
thousands and the government 
JTF massacre as well. 
A few months back in school I 
decided to visit Kano, northern 
Nigeria, where on Fridays roads 
are closed for Jumat services, 
the holy fast was just coming to 
an end, I was a little bit angry 
for the fact that I couldn’t wash 
down my lunch and dinner with 
my favourite drink of Guinness. I 
just hoped that after the fast, I 
can have some liberal Muslims 
sell me some drinks albeit 
clandestine; I was ready to take 
that chance. Before I could say 
Obasanjo after the fast, it was 
another huge miracle in Jos, the 
glorious city up once again in 
ethno-religious miraculous 
flames. Children and women 
burnt alive and murdered in cold 
blood, God once again was MIA, 
and I presumed he was 
preoccupied with Katrina after 
taking a piss in the wrong side 
of the pool. 
As I was just getting on a bus 
back and really overwhelmed 
with the amazing miracles, I was 
invited by a friend to a church 
function as their pastor just got 
a new hair cut and opened a 
printing press, so he would be 
finally able to sell Gods words to 
the people and own all the 
rights. You know God doesn’t 
speak to everyone, he selects a 
few, and those ones might 
decide to just write it in a book 
and sell to you, while God also 
takes his cut of the deal. 
So now finally graduated from 
University, which was indeed a 
miracle as I never got caught 
cheating during exams. I got into 
the labour market which 
surprisingly was really packed to 
the brim with over lapping sets 
of graduates. I made new friends 
at the regular job interview 
spots, we formed a group and 
always had prayer meetings and 
attended church together; we 
called it the “unemployed for 
Jesus” we thought that through 
our zeal and social status Jesus 
or his Dad would realise that we 
were in dire need of jobs and 
help us out, that never 
happened and with news of 
various miracles of people 
winning the US visa lottery, 
getting visas, I probably thought 
that God had my miracle waiting 
for me on the shores of the US, 
so I decided to get a passport 
and apply for a visa. I got all 
the documents from an uncle 
that resides there, prepared my 
own package, bank accounts 
almost in red, an account of 
why and how I have lived, went 
through a series of prayer and 
fasting, when the results came, I 
was refused. Devastated, feeling 
let down, rejected and dejected, 
I decided to give the UK a 
chance, a pastor in my church 
told me it was due to my sins, I 
had to stay away from sins and 
my visa would come, but at this 
time I just started to reason 
thoroughly saying to myself “my 
sins”? “my sins”? What about all 
the sinners that were born in 
the US? Why did God send me 
here to Nigeria in the first 
place? For his amusement, to 
see me suffer, then later to 
watch me pray to get a visa 
out of the misery he put me 
into? Or what is really going on? 
Whenever I raised these 
questions, I was either rebuked 
that that’s the devil speaking 
through me, I should surround 
myself with strong believers, and 
I should seek deliverance. Three 
months passed and I was 
rejected again by the UK, then I 
finally sought deliverance at 
some church that claim to have 
something to do with fire, there 
I bought a book; I think it was 
titled 100 or 1000 fire prayer 
points or something like that, 
where we prayed and chanted 
that the holders of our miracles 
be roasted by fire, drop down 
and die etc. Radical conditions, 
well, I was on board, hoping that 
the guy/lady holding my miracles 
would die and finally let me 
having the bike I always wanted 
as a kid at least, for starters, 
later on it was more like it must 
be a family member holding my 
miracles which got more 
interesting. Imagine going to a 
family function and looking at 
everyone closely, all suspects of 
holding my miracles and 
progress. I stared into every 
eye, looked at every hands, 
every chains seeking some clues. 
Finally, years would pass with 
nothing happening, my granny 
died, might it be her I said? 
What would my granny have to 
do with my bike, job or visa 
amongst others? She even 
helped me start my first piggy 
bank. Soon I came to my senses 
and really got bored and 
disgusted at the rate at which 
people called for the death of 
others, and interestingly the 
miracle time was always over 
booked, people praising God that 
their mother, sister, father, 
brother, granny, mother-in-law 
etc died and since then they 
had become successful, this was 
always followed by loud roars 
and cheers of the fellow blood- 
thirsty crowd, it was more like a 
gladiator show in ancient Rome. 
I decided to forget about the 
visa issue and stay in Nigeria 
and cut down on the prayers 
and do more work of my own. 
During this period I got a job 
which barely paid my bills but it 
was better than nothing, but 
soon I’d be back again praying. 
As a young man, I loved my 
liquor, cigarettes occasional 
reefer (weed) smoking. In a 
society like Nigeria, it was more 
or less like a stigma, to be seen 
or known to do these, it was 
very difficult to get a steady 
girlfriend, majority were all 
looking for the “Jesus-like” man 
which certainly I wasn’t. I 
started attending the 6am 
“Single brothers meeting” twice 
a week; sometimes I hung 
around on an “okada” to check 
out the ladies coming from the 
“Single sisters meeting” if I could 
spot a one as desperate as me 
but all to no avail. I didn’t have 
a choice than to go to the 
brothels where the ladies never 
judged me for my living habits, 
smiled when I wanted them to 
smile and did as they were told. 
I’d till tomorrow classify the 
prostitution trade as a great 
miracle, up there! Quite smart of 
God and the first man that 
prayed for it! 
My life moved on quite steady, 
me, working my arse off to 
make a living, parents demanding 
and expecting the regular 
monthly allowance for support, 
cousins also expecting the older- 
working brother hand-out. It 
was worse than a hand to 
mouth case. But I kept on still 
dong the occasional prayers like 
back in university, hoping that 
maybe the next prayer might 
hit me the jackpot in heaven 
with God. The national prayers 
all continued, while Nigeria got 
worse daily, religious houses 
sprung up on every corner like 
MTN SIM cards. The amazing 
miracles were very much around; 
the Jos crises, popped in almost 
quarterly to remind them God 
still loves some action, the 
Niger-delta looked more like the 
permanent miracle, a well 
designed one by God, The Nigeria 
state in whole, a perfect job by 
God which I’m sure stands up 
there on his CV. 
After awhile I met a guy that in 
a local bar, he invited me to 
share a “joint” with him and a 
few other people, he was a 
great companion in discussions, 
his views a bit, [ermm No] really 
ungodly, I mean he supported 
gays even though being straight! 
God forbid, he supported 
abortion, he was an atheist, he 
said Jesus and God didn’t exist, 
he had historical proofs of Jesus 
being a myth, he openly spoke 
of his views and defended them. 
I could not believe there could 
be a Nigerian like me that didn’t 
believe in the God of amazing 
miracles, miracles that we see 
around us daily. We frequently 
discussed, he challenged me to 
prove my God with valid facts 
and evidences and not 
assumptions. I told him God is 
everywhere, everything was a 
sign of God, the water, wind, 
earth etc, while deep down I 
knew God just filled up the 
things I couldn’t explain, and this 
I had been taught as a kid. I 
remember asking my mum once 
how a virgin could have a child, 
not only did she scold me for 
think about the sexual act but 
also told me categorically that 
that was God. Why were all the 
firstborn Egyptians sons killed if 
it was Pharaoh that sinned, I 
asked? All she told me was that 
it was God. God and God. So 
here I was with this guy and his 
views, he even asked once that 
he should be struck dead by 
God if he’s there, a part of me 
actually wanted him to be 
struck dead, just to prove my 
God. 
That would be a miracle that 
would be worth watching and 
might just made up for 
everything else, at least my 
blood thirsty God has come to 
prove himself, but he was busy 
enjoying the huge sea of blood 
flowing in Haiti and Chile, 
enjoying the Iraq, Afghani, Gaza, 
Pakistan rush. He couldn’t be 
bothered with some random 
guy’s challenge and blood. 
But till then, I would keep 
praying he gets arrested by 
Jesus. I’d keep enjoying the 
series of glorious miracles in 
Nigeria, which I think I can now 
call the home of miracles. 50 
years running we have all been 
praying in tremendous amounts 
and we see the fruits and 
answers of our prayers daily. So 
when these fresh viewed men 
and women come up calling for 
change, voting, protesting, 
revolution etc, I think there is 
nothing we can really do to 
change the world, because the 
devil is in total control of the 
world, also the bible already 
says the end times would be 
very difficult and there would be 
wars and rumours of wars, so I’ll 
just keep praying and hoping to 
make heaven finally as this 
world is not my home. More so, 
we have been voting for a while 
what has it changed? Men that 
have protested and fought for 
rights have all died, what did 
they achieve? God’s plan and 
time is the best! The will of God 
be done! Like the saying goes 
insanity is when a man keeps 
doing the same thing over and 
over and expecting a different 
result. 
But I’d drop my pen here for 
now, just got a call that our 
pastor is seeking the first 50 
people to sow a seed for the 
man of God’s new house as 
daddy has said, so I have to 
run, but I’d keep recording my 
miracle experiences. 
Be steadfast in the lord. God 
bless! 
N.B Characters in the story are 
fictional or rather bible-like 🙂 
By Teekay Akin [Akinyemi 
Adeseye] 
21st of August 2010.

Gadaffi’s Libya: My Mind Flashes Back

Hero Martyr Muammar Gaddafi
in his own words: For 40 years,
or was it longer, I can’t
remember, I did all I could to
give
people houses, hospitals,
schools, and when they were
hungry, I gave them food, I even
made Benghazi into farmland
from the desert, I stood up to
attacks from that cowboy
Reagan, when he killed my
adopted orphaned daughter, he
was trying to kill me, instead he
killed that poor innocent child,
then I helped my brothers and
sisters from Africa with money
for the African Union, did all I
could to help people understand
the concept of real democracy,
where people’s committees
ran our country, but that was
never enough, as some told me,
even people who had 10 room
homes, new suits and furniture,
were never satisfied, as selfish
as they were they wanted
more, and they told Americans
and other visitors, they needed
“democracy,” and
“freedom,” never realizing it
was a cut throat system,
where the biggest dog eats the
rest, but they were enchanted
with those words, never
realizing that in America, there
was no free medicine, no freeHero Martyr Muammar Gaddafi
in his own words: For 40 years,
or was it longer, I can’t
remember, I did all I could to
give
people houses, hospitals,
schools, and when they were
hungry, I gave them food, I even
made Benghazi into farmland
from the desert, I stood up to
attacks from that cowboy
Reagan, when he killed my
adopted orphaned daughter, he
was trying to kill me, instead he
killed that poor innocent child,
then I helped my brothers and
sisters from Africa with money
for the African Union, did all I
could to help people understand
the concept of real democracy,
where people’s committees
ran our country, but that was
never enough, as some told me,
even people who had 10 room
homes, new suits and furniture,
were never satisfied, as selfish
as they were they wanted
more, and they told Americans
and other visitors, they needed
“democracy,” and
“freedom,” never realizing it
was a cut throat system,
where the biggest dog eats the
rest, but they were enchanted
with those words, never
realizing that in America, there
was no free medicine, no free
hospitals, no free housing, no
free education and no free
food,except when people had to
beg or go to long lines to get
soup, no, no matter what I did,
it was never enough for some,
but for others, they knew I was
the son of Gamal Abdel Nasser,
the only true Arab and Muslim
leader we’ve had since
Salah’ a’ Deen, when he
claimed the Suez Canal for his
people, as I claimed Libya, for
my people, it was his footsteps I
tried to follow, to keep my
people free from colonial
domination—from thieves who
would steal from us— now, I am
under attack by the biggest
force in military history, my little
African son, Obama wants to
kill me, to take away the
freedom of our country, to take
away our free housing, our free
medicine, our free education,
our free food, and replace it
with American style thievery,
called “capitalism,” but all of
us in the Third World know
what that means, it means
corporations run the countries,
run the world, and the people
suffer, so, there is no
alternative for me, I must make
my stand, and if Allah wishes, I
shall die by following his path,
the path that has made our
country rich with farmland, with
food and health, and even
allowed us to help our African
and Arab brothers and sisters
to work here with us, in the
Libyan Jammohouriyah, I do not
wish to die, but if it comes to
that, to save this land, my
people, all the thousands who
are all my children, then so be
it. let this testament be my
voice to the world, that I stood
up to crusader attacks of
NATO, stood up to cruelty,
stood up to betrayal, stood up
the West and its colonialist
ambitions, and that I stood with
my African brothers, my true
Arab and Muslim brothers, as a
beacon of light, when others
were building castles, I lived in a
modest house, and in a tent, I
never forgot my youth in Sirte,
I
did not spend our national
treasury foolishly, and like
Salah’a’deen, our great
Muslim leader, who rescued
Jerusalem for Islam, I took little
for myself… in the West, some
have called me “mad,”
“crazy,” but they know the
truth but continue to lie, they
know that our land is
independent and free, not in the
colonial grip, that my vision, my
path, is, and has been clear
and for my people and that I will
fight to my last breath to keep
us free, may Allah almighty help
us to remain faithful and free”By
Colonel Muamar Gadaffi

Of Religious Mothers and Teenage Rebellion

Written by Ore Afolayan
As a growing child, the religion ferried from Europe was the religion
practised in our home. Morning and night devotions were rituals
compulsory for participation.
Not to partake in any of these practices was an offence, an heinous
crime the Good Lord frowned at. Often times, it was accompanied by a
correctional lecture by the family’s head. We were, at other times
whipped severely and severally.
As a growing young man privileged to have come across a plethora of
literature relating to the concept of religion, I now understand that
religion can be viewed as a ritualistic mode of worship, can be viewed
as a man-to-his-god one on one relationship, can also be seen as a
bridge between the Cosmic nature of existence and humans.
I won’t choose any form of religion for anyone via this piece since I
believe that every man is for himself, thus has the liberty, the
freedom to worship in whatever way it pleases him/her. However, no
matter the option we decide to choose, it is imperative we include
logic in our doings and not be guided strictly by religious dogmas.
Recently, I was at one of the Iyana-Ipaja BRT terminals, queuing up
into a bus. While standing, I noticed a woman, in her mid forties
presumably, walking in company of a set of identical female twins,
they should be 8 or 9years of age.
They wore elegant and radiating outfits, they were a sight to behold.
However, I couldn’t look at those children- one had tears spiralling
down her eyes, the other wore a cold face of misery. Looking at them
was looking at the 234/276 missing school girls.
As I maintained my opposite gaze, rebellious and violent remarks from
pedestrians filled the air, ‘you wan kill am, he no go better for you,
you won’t eat the fruit of your labour’. Then, it dawned on me that
the woman had been inflicting the child with her palm for not singing
well in church.
The crying child now frightened one, upon seeing her supposedly
mother’s arm go up for another beating, ran to her opposite direction
to avoid the slap. Tragedy struck immediately, as she didn’t see the
motorcyclist coming her way. I bought an handkerchief, absorbed the
brewing tears from my eyes, then jumped into the bus.
I alighted couple of minutes later. Barely had I walked few metres
when three teens walked up to me to ‘solicit’ for transport fare that
will enable them get home. They wore nice outfits, so they could
obviously be telling the truth, hence, I gave them an amount that
could ferry them home. While they left, resounding, ‘Brother, thank
you’, I asked after their mother, ‘she has gone for evangelism.’ one
of them responded. The youngest of them added, ‘that’s how she’ll be
doing, we’ll be trekking every every day, she will not give us money.
Uncle, abi you know Pipeline? Shey it’s not far?’ I apologized on her
mother’s behalf and told them to catch the bus that just dropped off
passengers nearby.
‘Teenage rebellion’ was the phrase that came to mind after pondering
about the above scenarios. The rebellion would obviously start from
the home-the family(one of the children in the second situation had
even commence hers orally). The rebellion gradually grows as it comes
into the society. A gang of rebellious children would obviously come
to fore due to the subtle religious actions of their mothers. In most
cases, many of these children leave home with intent of not returning,
many become prodigals, others are conditioned to scolding,
maltreatment and torture becoming hardened criminals later on.
Mothers, we know you wish the best for us. We may not be aware of the
consequences of our intentions, actions and inactions. However, all we
want, all we need is for you to understand us.
For more information, you can tweet at me on twitter @Ore_Afolayan Hoping to read from you

#BringBackOurGirls

Yesterday,
boom bombed my boombox,
a grievous news,
hundreds had gone missing.

One day,
all the way would I go,
in search of beautiful bounties, taken out of their shanties.

Today,
I made for the streets,
little did I know,
shouldda headed for the forests.

Tomorrow,
Sambisa would I go,
to bring back our girls.

Copyright Protected. Ore Afolayan. @Ore_Afolayan.
Join The Movement
#BringBackOurGirls

Pastor, save our girls!

It’s Sunday again!

These bible-wielding clerics have not cease to amaze me.

It’s been over a month that 234/276 school girls were abducted from their academic institution.

Yet, the messages in churches have not ceased to be:
Salvation(making heaven while another do not)
Prosperity(buying a car while another is yet to eat)
Thanksgiving(rendering praises for a purposeless life while brilliant minds, world changers, starving children, conceiving mothers die due to man-made and natural disasters)
Tithing(giving a tenth to a well-established platform while millions starve to death).
This is hypocrisy.
We need a new set of ideals, or we revisit the old one, cause I believe this wasn’t the original purpose of religious homes.
I believe religious homes weren’t built to swindle the poor masses mentally and financially.

Pastor, Reverend, Deacon, Deaconess, Bishop, Archbishop, Evangelist, Apostle, by all means neccessary(sic), save our girls. When you’ve done so, we can have your proposed discourse on salvation.