Happy Teachers'Day.

Ah!!!

It's World Teachers' Day.

Teachers are wonderful people

Teachers are confidence

Teachers are intelligent

Teachers patient

Teachers are role models.

I remember when I was in Junior class in Secondary school, I attended Arabic Teachers' College, Jebba.

The senior students that were in form 5 used to get posted to primary schools to practice TEACHING (Teaching Practice), they'd go to their various primary schools of appointments for teaching practice everyday in second term or so, our teachers would later go to invigilate them to score them based on their performances.

Well, that is not the koko of my short story.

My point is to buttress my points that Teachers are all that I described them at the top of this post.

You see that Teaching Practice our senior students used to go while I was still in Junior class, I dread it so much, that was because of many factors, some of which were:

1) my height (my hand would barely reach the blackboard)

2) my spoken English (I can't confidently make a complete sentence in English)

3) I lacked the confidence to speak in public

4) I dreaded the whole thing about that scheme.

May all our passionate teachers be handsomely rewarded in this life and the next.

Happy Teachers Day to all the intentional and amazing Teachers all over the world. 

Solatul Janazah

SOLATUL JANAZAH (Burial Prayer)

It is to be observed after proper ablution, here is what is said from start to finish during funeral prayer in Islam

what is said during Salat Al-janaaza ( Burial prayers):

1- After the First Takbeer : Recite Surat Al-Fatiha (Alhamdulillaahi Robbil aalameen. Arohamaanir Roheem. Malikiy yaomid deen. Iyyaka na'abudu wa iyyaka nastaheen. Ihidinas sirotal Mustaqeem. Sirooto lladhina an'amta alaehim ghaeril maghduubi alaehim wa laa dhooleen.. Aamin)

2-After the Second Takbeer: say Solat Al-Ibrahimiyya ( Allahumma Solli Alaa Muhammad Wa Alaa Aali Muhammad Kamaa solaeta alaa Ibroheem wa alaa aali Ibroheem innaka Hameedunm Majeed.. Allahumma baarik alaa Muhammad wa alaa aali Muhammad kamaa barokta alaa Ibroheem wa alaa aali Ibroheem innaka Hameedunm Majeed).

3-After the Third Takbeer: Pray for the dead but according to how its narrated from our Prophet S.A.W. One of them is:( Allahummagfir lahuu warhamhu wathabbit-hu Alal qawlu Athaabit ) or (Allahummaghfir lahu war'ham waaafihi wa'aafu anhu wa-akrim nuzulahu wa wassiaa mudkhalahu wa aghsilhu bilmaai wathalji walbarodi wa naqqihi minal khatooya kama naqqoetas thaobul abyadum minad danas wa abdilhu daaran khaeran mmin daarihi wa ahlan khaeran min ahalihi wa zaojan khaeran min zaojihi wa adkhilhu jannah wa aidhuhu min adhaabil qobri wa adhaabin naari)

4- Then lastly after the Fourth Takbeer: you should pray for all Muslims Say: ( Allahumma laa tuharrimnaa ajrahuu wa laa taftinna ba'adahuu ) or

(Allahummaghfir lihaayyinaa wa mayyitinaa washaahidinaa wa ghaaibinaa wassogirinaa wa kabeerinaa wadhakarinaa wa unzaanaa Allahumma man ahyaetahu minnaa fa ahyihi alaal Islaam wa man tawafaetahu minnaa fatawaffaahu alal eeman Allahumma la tahrimnaa ajrohu wa tudillanaa ba'adahu).

5- And lastly end the prayer with one Salaam to the right (Just once)

May Allah Subhanahu Wataala forgive us. Ameen

Ghusl Janazat: HOW TO WASH THE DEAD IN ISLAM.

HOW TO WASH THE DEAD IN ISLAM

In The Name of Allaah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful.

It is pertinent to note that all types of Ghusl (be it Nifaas, Janabat, Aedo etc) in Islam are performed same way, it’s just their NIYAT that’s different. However, in Ghusl l Janazat, we need SIDR LEAVE  to wash the body, if can’t find the leave or its water, then soap should be dropped in the water to dissolve and be used.

Islam has great regard for individual's privacy, so much that even in death, human bodies are not encouraged to be exposed to the public without being properly wrapped, hence the dead body is not to be washed in open space, the body washing should be done in enclosed area, body to be covered at least from the navel down to the knee if it were to be male and covered from the chest down to the knee if it's female during the Ghusl Janazat.

 Those that are in the best position to bathe the dead are their intimates (i.e Husband, wife, sister, brother, father, Son, daughter, their close friends etc).

 Immediately a Muslim is confirmed dead and we are getting prepared to wash their body in preparation to be buried, the body is to be placed on a flat surface like long bench or table for easier process.

It is important we raise the corpse’s head up a bit and press their stomach gently continuously to help push out the remnants of either urine or faeces (poop or excreta) or both, after which we will clean (wash with water) both the private parts.

 The dead can't do or perform anything on their own anymore, now is the time for the washer(s) to do the cleaning by starting with saying BISMILLAHI RAHMAANIRRAHEEM and then perform one-point ablution for the dead, water shouldn't be put into its mouth, rather we should dip a clean piece of cloth in water and use it to clean the mouth and then the nose, as the corpse can't spit out the water on their own.

 Now, we will start by first washing the head with clean water alone, then the right side ofthe body from the right shoulder reaching the toes, then we would turn its left and wash as the right side was washed, then we will wash the whole body (As the living muslim bathe in Janaba).

We would wash the body again, this second time with the Sidr leaf or soap and water as we did the first time, then wash the corpse third time again as we did the first and second times, but this time with dissolved CAMPHRA in clean water.

Corpse washing is best done thrice, but if it were to be female and we feel the thrice washing isn't enough, we could wash the body five times, seven times etc, we must just ensure the number of washing stand at odd numbers (i.e, Thrice, five, seven times).

 

Allaah knows the best.

No Employment Opportunities In China For Nigerians – Envoy

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China flag

Mr Wale Oloko, the Consul-General of the Federal Republic of Nigeria in Guangzhou, China, on Monday admonished
young Nigerians aspiring to travel to China for employment purposes to look elsewhere.

Oloko told the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN) in Lagos that it had been and would continue to be difficult for unskilled Nigerians to secure even menial jobs in China.

The consul-general, however, said that it was only “exceptionally skilled’’ Nigerians in artificial intelligence, Information Technology and other areas that could be considered for employment in China.

“Nigerians wanting to travel to China for employment must appreciate the fact that China currently has a population of about 1.4 billion people.

“And the Chinese government has to first be able to provide employment for the Chinese.

“And besides that, there is the language barrier for Nigerians wanting to get employment in China to contend with.

“Let me, therefore, say that there are not many employment opportunities for Nigerians or other foreigners who want to travel to any part of China to do menial jobs,’’ he said.

The consul-general said that it was only those Nigerians who were ‘’exceptionally good’’ in some areas yet to be explored by the Chinese that were likely to be offered employment in China.

Oloko, who was visiting Nigeria so as to strengthen China and Nigeria relations, said that China was currently favourable to Nigerians who would be visiting for studies, tourism and business purposes.

He said that the over 70, 000 Nigerians that travelled to the Guangdong Province in 2016, had visited the Chinese province for business, tourism, education and healthcare issues.

The bilateral relations between the Federal Republic of Nigeria and the People’s Republic of China have expanded on growing bilateral trade and strategic cooperation.

China is considered one of Nigeria’s closest allies and partners.

China is also one of Nigeria’s important trading and export partners,with trade relations hitting the 2.7 billion dollar mark in 2017.

God Works In A Mysterious Way

God works in mysterious ways!

Immediately after my secondary school, my brother-in-law, Baba Kayode (God bless him for me), got me a job in a store at Oba Lipede Market, Kuto, Abeokuta.
The store was owned by a pharmacist who also owned a bigger store at Onikolobo while still in paid employment. 

The woman, for whatever reasons, usually priced her goods much higher than others'. One of the goods, Tree Top, twelve in a pack was sold by others at N10:00, while she insisted that I sold at N12:00.
The most popular variant was Black Currant, what she had were unpopular variants so I was always bringing them out and returning them in the evening.
On this fateful day, one of the cartons fell from my hand while taking them in and seven of the 12 bottles broke. I wept bitterly and was very angry at myself for being so careless. While cleaning the mess, the shop owner, my boss, came in and was shocked at how much I've wept, she joined me in the cleaning and assured me that she won't deduct the loss from my salary. 

However, I found it hard to forgive myself. After closing, I usually take a taxi from Kuto to Imo where I lived but on this particular day, I decided that I would enter 'lift' because I deserved to be kidnapped for allowing those bottles to break. So I stood by the road side, expecting the kidnapper, unknown to me that God had sent an angel. After a while, a car drew to a halt in front of me, I entered. He asked me where I was going, by which time I still hadn't be able to control my emotions. He asked me what the matter was and I told him of the broken Tree Top. While I spoke he noted that I had good command of spoken English and asked me which school I went and other personal questions.

There and then, he asked me if I needed a better job and I answered in the affirmative. Unknown to me, he was a highly revered civil servant and so from the second day, he started his search for employment for his 'niece'.' That was how before the end of the month, I attended an interview at the Governor's office, and was offered a job. So instead of ending in a kidnapper's den, I ended with a very good job at the highest office in the land. Indeed, God works in a mysterious way!!

My God-sent Angel after giving me the letter inviting me for the interview, asked if I had the appropriate dress to wear, I said yes. My friend, MogbekeleOluwa not long before then, got married and I was a maid of honour. The dress was appropriate. He then gave me N7:00 to buy make-up and other things I'll need to look presentable. That made me to buy my second make-up kit with confidence. The first? I bought it when I was in Form 4 ,at N2:50. It was confiscated by my no-nonsense mother. After the seizure, she gave it to a friend of hers to keep. The friend also had a daughter, much younger than me, but she didn't see what my mother saw. My mother was of the opinion that earlier exposure to such things, would make men notice me and therefore, put my education in jeopardy. The friend's daughter helped herself to the make-up. The result, teenage pregnancy, forcing her to drop out of school. Imagine evils mothers protect us from!

Back to my story.

With the N7:00, I bought everything I needed. My Angel also taught me how to obtain permission from the boss, and it worked perfectly.

When I got home on the eve of the interview, my brother, Olawale Olaolu had cone back from school. He was then an undergraduate at Ogun State University. His arrival was a blessing in disguise.

He told me that I should knock before entering, in case the door to the interview room was locked and should wait for answer before going in. He also said if all the interviewers were men, I should greet them by saying ' good morning sirs' but if they were male and female I should just say, 'good morning. ' He also said I should remain standing till I was asked to sit, after which I should be looking at the wall behind them to make them feel that I was looking at their faces with confidence.

He warned that under no guise should I stare at the floor and create a lack of confidence posture.

After taking me through the rudiment of interview, my brother, Olawale Olaolu, asked me to go and get ready so that I won't be late. He ordered that I showed myself to him before leaving. The N7:00 that my God-sent Angel gave to me was wisely spent. I bought a make-up kit for N3:00, Angel Face powder N1:00 and the remaining N3:00 was used to fix my hair. Spending about 30 minutes in front of the mirror and satisfied that I've done a good job, I went to show myself to my brother. He commanded that I cleaned off the make-up. I was alarmed but I didn't have the liver to question him. He told me that ''when you go for an interview, your future employer prefer to meet your natural self, not your cosmetic self, so always appear as near natural as possible."  I quietly complied.

At the waiting room for the interview, I met the others. I also learnt that eight of us were invited but only four of us were there. The position was Tea Girl for the governor, a Level3 office, so a school cert failed or an awaiting result candidate was required. I had just left secondary school and was awaiting my result, so on that score, I was qualified. It got to my turn and I did exactly as I've been tutored. Then the questioning began.

I was asked how I would serve the panel tea in case I got the job. The panel was made up of four, three men and one woman. I told them and was also asked how many cubes of sugar I'll put in each cup of tea. My brother, Olawale Olaolu had severely warned me in the past not to put sugar in his tea. He said taste differed so it was not right to put sugar in someone's tea, instead I should put the sugar beside the tea and allowed the person to help himself or herself.

Quickly I remembered that and told them.

Then the leader of the team, Mr Salau, asked me why I needed the job. I told him it was to help my mom, a widow, to finance my education. He said "but you already have money. The money you spent to make your hair is enough to pay fees." I retorted: "the money for the hair is MI-A-GRI." I just saw that all of them started laughing. And wondered why. After a while, Mr Salau asked me to repeat what I said, and I confidently repeated it. He asked me to spell it and tell him the meaning. 

I spelt M E A G R E but pronounced MI-A-GRI, meaning small, little. He then told his colleagues, she knows the meaning, it's the pronunciation. He turned to me and said it's "MI-GA, not MI-A-GRI, you hear?" So I left the interview with the hope of a job, and additional knowledge, MI-GA, not MI-A-GRI.

Weeks after the interview, no news. However, my God-sent Angel kept following up and feeding me back. I learnt all four of us had people within following with keen interest. I also learnt that a lot of influence were peddled around but two of the four panel members insisted that I should be chosen. It took the intervention of the Permanent Secretary before the letter could be written. My Angel brought the letter offering me employment as a Clerical Assistant GL03, but I knew I was to work as Tea Girl to the governor.

My salary was N131:00 per month. What a big sum! I was beside myself with joy. Again, my brother, Olawale Olaolu, told me point blank that I must save N70:00 every month, except when I needed to buy a dress or a pair of shoes. He was my internal auditor. He monitored my account like EFCC and I owe my saving culture to him.

When I resumed for work, I was taken to the governor's office to be handed over to the ADC. Before my employment, a typist was seconded to serve as Tea Girl temporarilyand was to be recalled after my resumption. Mr Salau took me to the ADC expecting him to do the needful, but for where? Oga ADC blatantly refused, saying he couldn't trade the typist for anyone. A decision was taken that I be posted to the Registry, to work with the very pleasant Mrs Illoh, ably assisted by very efficient and friendly Mr Olugbemileke Adesegun. Both of them ensured that I always look forward to the next day at work. I am grateful to them. All eyes were on me at the office. I was big for my age and being an extrovert, I made a lot of friends.

Fews months later, it was February, the Valentine's month. I've never heard of Valentine before then not to talk of how to mark or celebrate the day. That particular one fell on a Saturday. So a day to Valentine, one of my colleagues, invited me to his office and gave me this beautiful card. It was very expensive. He paid a whopping N15:00 for it! I can't remember if there was another gift, but the card remained in my memory. When I opened it, it gave a very melodious tune. What was written in the card was so colourful that it remained in my memory till date.

Though ignorant of what he meant with the gift, I thanked him profusely and took the card to my office. I showed Mrs Illoh who took the pains to explain the significance of the card and the relevance of Saint Valentine making me realise the motive behind the gift..

Now that I know what the card was meant for, I thanked Mrs Illoh, took the typing eraser from the typist and rub off where the giver of the card wrote his name, put my own name, and where he wrote my name, I put the name of the 'only cockroach in my cupboard,' Architect Oribayode Adewuyi and kept the card in my bag.

The next day, which was Valentine's day, a Saturday, I redistributed the card by giving it to the one that deserved it and had my first celebration of Valentine with a truly deserving gentleman.

to be continued

Credit: Madam Omolola Adewoyin

Rage, as school hires SAN to defend teacher against pupil's sex accusation.

I am angry, a Nigerian school hires a SAN to defend a teacher against 3 year old's accusation of sexual impropriety. When I read that headline, I felt a heavy ball drop in my stomach. A potpourri of pain, incandescent rage , horror etc. I have been there, I was THREE.

I didn't want to write this, but I will do it for her, I will do it , because some people in the face of evidence properly collected, beleive that child is telling tales.
Someone said"He's such a good Christian man. Very dedicated Church worker, loves his kids".

All those qualities describes the teacher who locked my friend in the toilet every school day and forced her to perform fellatio on him. She was 5 years old then, I was 3 and I have never forgotten.
My saving grace, just as this child, was that I spoke quite well, have the memory of an elephant and an excellent relationship with my mother.

This was 80s.  He was our care giver. Early twenties, smart (according to the adults around me), hard working , caring etc.  I don't remember much before then. But I distinctly remember the day it began.
It was during bath time for my late older brother and muself.
"Do you know what this is?" The molester asked, pointed at my vulva and my brother's penis.
"It's our wee wee,"  I immediately replied.
"Do you know what it's used for?" He asked.
"To wee wee," I replied, confused.
He giggled. Can't forget that high pitched, asinine giggle.
"It has another use," he said. "Don't worry, one day, I'll show you."

I remember wanting to ask my mother what other use there was for our 'wee wee'. But child yhat I was, I forgot. Each day after that, this molester would ask us that question, get the same answer , laugh or giggle, and promise to show us what our private parts could be used for.
I don't know the timeline of this supposed grooming of his, but I remember the he made his move.


My parents were away at work, perhaps we were on midterms or some holiday, because it was in the middle of the day and I was sleeping.
"Baby," he said, shaking me awake, only my dad calls me 'BABY' , I thought it was him, so, I opened my eyes, my father was the bestfun dadddy a little girl could ask for, nothing could keep me asleep if he was home.
When I opened my eyes and saw who it was, I closed tham again, in my head I was a bit puzzled as to why he'd call me 'baby'.
He lifted me from the bed and carried me to the lobby, where we had our children's dining. I can still hear the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he pulled it out and sat down, then he lowered me from his shoulder, spread my legs and sat me across his crotch, "Baby, wake up," he said.

How can I forget that low heavy breathing? or the wetness of his lips on my forehead and lips? how can I forget the nurgency of his fingers as they parted my panties and fumbled around my vulve?  I can not forget how he said "Baby, wake up, I want to show you love."
Groggy, I opened my eyes, long enough to say "B* I want to sleep" That was when he pushed me slightly away from himself, reached down, pulled down the zip on his trousers and brought out his penis. I remember, because it was way bigger than my brother's.


I tell you, this sleep leave me when he reached down, pushed my panties to one side, raised me just so and tried that humongous penis inside me. The pain, I can not describe it, it was bad, worse than when I fell down and scrapped my knee, worse than anything before.

"B* stop, it's painful." I cried out. "I'm sorry my baby, but it's paining you because you're not opening for me, open your legs." these words were accompanied by a further spreading of my legs, even that, hurt.
He tried again, this time, I hit his chest. "Stop! It's still paining me," I said and started crying.
He said he was sorry and told me not to cry, kept on saying "Please open for me, just open for me."
"I'm opening, but it is painful." I cried.


How can i forget that sigh of frustration he heaved? How he said "OK, you are not ready for me, I will be using finger till you are ready, it's ok, don't cry again. Baby, stop crying."
I stopped because the hurt was stopping. He took me back to bed.

My mother usually returned from work before my father back then, she was working and going to school, caring for my brother who suffered from sickle cell anaemia, me and my younger brother, we were all under 5. But she always asked how our day went and actually listened.
She wasin the kitchen chopping up tomatoes, I walked in and quitely stoop beside her, "Nsido?" she asked, "what is it?''
"Mummy, what can we use our wee wee for?"
She turned and looked at me, "To pee, of course, what kind of question is that?''
"I told B* that it's for wee weeing but he said he will show me and Ini, mummy tell me, so I can tell him that I know."
Oblivious, I went on. "Today, he put his wee wee in my wee wee, mummy, it was paining me, so, I told him to stop."

I can't remember her expression, but can still feel the tremble in her hands as she turned, knelt before me, held my upper arms and said "What did you just say?"  I repeated the same words.
By now, she was shaking like a leaf in the wind.  "He....He....Oh God!! I'm finished" she whispered. "My child ooo...."
I thought I'd done something wrong. "Mummy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it."
"It's not you, my darling," she said, hugging me. By then, she was crying. She said I was brave "I'm happy you told me."
"you told me to tell you if anyone touches our wee wee." I said.


Unlike her friends, my mother didn't think sex education was too much for her toddlers.
Very early on, I knew the PANTS rule.
P - Private parts are private
A - Always remember that your body is yours
N - No means NO
T - There are no secrets from MUMMY
S - Say something, so I can do something about it.

Curled from EKETI's (@eketiette) TL on twitter.