Africa & Religion

Africa is a religious continent. If you ask me, Africans are very religious people, ranging from Christianity to Islam to the Traditional religion ( which was the first religion practiced ) before Christianity and Islam were introduced.

Religion is a strong factor ,one which holds power over the people. Once, someone likened religion to slavery but I choose to differ, I would say religion just has gained a lot of influence and permanence in the minds of people but they are still given a choice. the voice of a cleric is respected more than that of the president . The government could go all out and say on this specific day no one is allowed to leave their homes but trust me, we would ignore and pay little mind, but once the religious leader says same, everyone hides themselves indoors. Such is the power religion holds.

The BBC survey showed that most Africans place religion above other factors, like ethnicity, when distinguishing their identities. – BBC



Just like the excerpt says, religion is placed above anything and everything. This definitely has its good and bad because when religion is given so much power, a new definition of humanity could be given to you according to whatever your religious leader tells you . Back when Africans killed twins before the impact of Mary Slessor (bless her soul). The people perpetuating the killings didnt find what they did as wrong – the power of religion. It was what they had been told was right by those they held as religious leaders that it had become normal to them. And going against it had its consequences Can you blame them? You really can’t.

Religion has it’s good as it helps to keep people in check. Being able to distinguish what was good and bad and actually abiding by it. For example Christian’s believe according to the bible, stealing is a sin . and they’re reminded by their religious leaders of this every time so even when it may seem as though there’s a need to steal, a Christian would still feel reluctant to actually steal because he’s aware his religion is against it. Good right? Yes.

But how about when your supposed religious leader tells you it’s ok to actually steal, now because of such reverence given to him/her, your mind begins to have a rethink like what if actually stealing isnt such a bad thing, I mean its 2020. Tines are changing right , alright I might just go ahead and do it anyways.

Religion isn’t a bad thing , no no ,not at all. I feel it has actually impacted on people and the whole African continent, literally the whole world the right way, but being able to discern is really important, religion shouldn’t be dictatorial, it should be laid on the table with you being given the power to choose what you want to do . It’s a powerful feeling realizing you’re not alone and there’s someone, out there, watching you , and looking out for you. But remember religion remains a choice.

Peculiar Wilfred

With Love .

Even Men Cry

‘Be a man’ they tell you ‘never show weakness’. You have to have the strong persona, the buff muscles, the fearless attitude towards anything and everything. The need to impress , the need to be brave, the need to take on any challenge without showing fear or hesitation.

It definitely can be hard having to be sometimes what you’re not. People tend to forget asides being a man’s man, you’re also human, you’ve got blood in your veins, you’ve got emotions, you can experience mood swings , you can be depressed , some days you want to wake up and not have to act strong, you want to lay your head on someone’s shoulder and be told everything will be fine, you want to lay bare your weaknesses and fears and not be judged .

But the world expects different from you, there are still people who assume sensitive subjects such as depression, and even rape are for the female gender alone, yes it may seem rare to find a man going through such but not impossible. The male gender is expected to smile and act strong even in weakest moments, expected to never show emotions. You’re the one to be a pillar unto others, whereas the foundation of your pillar is shaky. This could drive one to the cliff, and then we act surprised when we hear ‘oh , he was depressed’. Gender should not be a condition when it comes to humanity.

‘Be yourself, the world will adjust’. But they still give you the disappointed look when a man tears up after a breakup or whatever. Quit suppressing your emotions. Not everyone is emotionally strong and gender certainly has nothing to do with it, men should be able to openly say they need help, or they’ve been abused in whatever form without being judged over it or laughed at or called a coward. Extend love to that/those man/men in your life and let him/them know he’s/they’re not alone. Every man has that phase in their lives in which they just want to unburden themselves of all that’s been placed on their shoulders.

Remember to spread love unto every soul you come across, it dont cost a dime.

Peculiar Wilfred

With Love

60th

Today is my country’s independence. Happy 60th to Nigeria 🇳🇬

Mine is a country where suffering and smiling is the norm. Achieving 60 should be a great feat but there’s no joy on the face of the people. Being a young male is now a thing of fear as you’re at the verge of being extorted or killed by the same ones placed to protect us. The police is now feared more than criminals. Walking the streets or being in a car you’ve got to always look over your shoulder. 3 square meals? A feat for the rich, your taxes are not accounted for, you toil and toil but only those in power benefits.

Division amongst tribes, a country threatened by secession . Unity and oneness is literally a thing of the past. The youths aren’t even allowed a place in government. You’d think why not conduct a protest?..tell that to a Nigerian youth and you would be asked if you love your life, we all want to return home whole and alive for human life is worth almost nothing but… our leaders shall celebrate and eat from the national cake and claim the country is getting better.

More years to my country, a better educational system, a better health system, better living conditions, better accountability from our leaders, freedom and peace of mind. A better police force, a better government, peace and unity

Nigeria shall be great again. 🇳🇬

Peculiar Wilfred

With Love.

Teenage Fantasy

He whispered into my ears poetic lines, reminding me how much he claimed to love me, filling my heart with affection, his hand across my waist pressing slightly, he claimed I was the one and we were going to be together forever. And he had never felt love as strong as this. I wondered if he had even felt love at all. Every evening I rushed back home before my mother would become aware of my whereabouts I found clarity and my heart knew better.

He said we would attend the same college then afterwards move to a new city together, get married and make babies, I nodded my head in agreement as my heart beat for joy believing I had found the one but every day I sat before my written goals taped to the wall beside my bed and I couldn’t find him in any. I found clarity and my heart knew better.

I skipped school to go spend time with him, the thrill of it, the adrenaline it brought, the new things I was able to try, It felt surreal, I felt on top of the world and he brought out another part of me I didnt know existed, I revelled in his energy that the world seemed to stop whenever we were together but when I sat before my overlapping school work and dilapidating grades I found clarity and my heart knew better .

But I would always go back, I would always go back to that which was bad for me, he was nicotine and i was addicted, I had painted a picture in my head , acted out a scenario and planned a future with someone whose path didnt align with mine, I was beyond infatuated but would you blame me, I was young and experimenting. I was falling for someone who didnt want the same as me. I had found clarity and my heart already knew better but I was unwilling to let go. I was unwilling to make that conscious decision. I revelled in my fantasy .

Peculiar Wilfred

With Love.

A Rather Grand Welcome

The bus came to a stop, the driver ordering everyone out in his baritone voice , I immediately got down with the others. I took a quick look at my phone, It was exactly 09:27am. I was on time. I hurriedly tucked it into my bag. Opposite to me I could see a sign post with OSHODI clearly written on it. With my credentials in hand I looked around me, I held on to it tightly. The interview was for 12pm, and I had been informed the distance from Oshodi to Lekki wasnt going to take me as much as two hours, I felt confident.

This was my first time in Lagos, I had just moved here less than a week, I heard this was the city of great opportunities and I was here to grab mine. As i strutted on, my eyes touring the views, I looked to my left and I saw a woman seated with yummy plump looking tomatoes displayed before her, she cradled a baby to chest, her eyes searching , from the left to the right for a customer, until it fell on mine, she gave me a faint smile as though urging me to come patronise her, I immediately looked away but my senses couldn’t let go of the sadness i saw in her eyes and the facade of a smile she had given me. I had been directed to where I could get a bus directly to Lekki, so I walked on, the crowd was unexplainable, I literally had to squeeze my way through people. Lagos was indeed a small London. I had high hopes coming to this city, getting a job had been almost impossible until I had been invited for an interview to Lagos, I had to travel almost ten hours from my state of residence to get here. I couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity.

I finally found a bus meant to take me to my destination, I hurriedly got in , as I had been told Lagos was a fast and impatient city. I didn’t want to be found slacking. The driver began requesting for his money from everyone, I dipped my hand into my back pocket to search out my wallet but my hand returned empty. I searched the next pocket ,the same result. What was going on?. I had placed my wallet into my back pocket while in the previous bus, I opened up my bag, still no sign of the wallet.

‘Oga (boss), your money’ the driver said to me with impatience clearly written on his face. ‘Please hold on sir’. I rummaged through my bag, searched between my files, my pockets, it was obvious I had been robbed. But how?, when?. That wallet held literally everything I had from my money, to my ID card, to my credit card. I immediately told the driver to let me down , my eyes began searching the ground, i decided to retrace my steps , checking my phone , it was 10:05am. My interview was for 11am and here I was stranded. I began scrolling through the contact list on my phone , urgently trying to find who to call for help but I was barely 24 hours in a new city, I knew no one.

As I walked back through the path I has taken earlier, my eyes searched desperately, this was a horrible way to start my day , a horrible way to start my experience in Lagos, time was ticking, my breath was quickening, I couldn’t afford to miss the interview but there was no hope for that unless I found my wallet, I’ve heard tales of the expertise of petty thieves in Lagos but me being a victim? That I never imagined. Still walking on and my eyes wandering I immediately caught a glimpse of something brown and shiny on the floor less than 10 feet away from me, I literally jogged towards it. Pushing past passerbys . My wallet! Such relief! How did it fall from my pocket?? And here i was thinking Lagos had given me a rather cold welcome. I hastily picked it up and accessed its contents, everything was still intact. I looked to my right and there was the woman with the tomatoes, sitting in the same position I had seen her earlier, her baby still to her chest, I stood there staring until her eyes caught mine and I smiled genuinely.

Peculiar Wilfred

With Love.

Lift Up The Rug And Address The Issue

Have you ever found yourself in a situation wherein your friend/family says/ does something extremely insensitive to you but you ignore and sweep it under the rug because you don’t want to lose such relationship. So much we swallow for the sake of a relationship.

I’m someone who tends to sweep things under the rug a lot, I always choose the easy way out of an impending issue or an already ensuing argument because I really hate such scenes. But I began to realise the more I overlooked the issues , the more they build up in my mind, the more I begin to analyse it and give it a hundred and ten reasons and explanations and my attitude towards the party involved begin to change or I unconsciously distance myself, eventually causing damage to myself and unnecessary distress.

I’ve had quite a lot of unpleasant things done to me by people I consider friends , rather than confront the situation , I push it behind in my mind and tell myself ‘it never happened ‘ and I forget about it -but only for a while. I never actually forget it , it always comes back , the past month, I remember correctly, I was tormented with a recurring memory , something I thought I had forgotten , something I thought I had gotten over , I wanted to talk to someone, I felt the need to get it off my mind as it being something I had never told anyone, I felt telling someone was going to bring me some peace.

And then I had the talk- with a friend. And I remember days leading on after , I had peace, I no longer felt disturbed by this memory. Indeed the power of opening up . As I’m not one to open up to people, I resulted to keeping things to myself and it rather than making me feel better made me feel worse. I shy away from confrontation because I feel I dont want to lose relationships thereby dealing with and accepting behaviours I shouldn’t be.

It takes courage to realizing no relationship is worth your peace of mind or mental health , confronting and addressing situations help as they avoid a strain being put on both parties. Its vital to open up to people, speaking to someone about issues ,understanding you cant solve it alone. A problem shared is a problem half solved – this actually has a whole lot of truth in it. Protect your mental health at all cost! It’s literally your whole life.

Peculiar Wilfred.

With Love.

Fake It Till You Break It

Now they told you you have to fake it till you make it, that’s alright but what’s the purpose? To impress the public or to actually work on yourself? Now if the former is the case, then you’ve got a problem. Now , here is what is going to happen, you’re going to fake it till you’re unable to recognize the person looking back at you in the mirror . Yes honey. Unless you are doing this to portray a level of confidence you’re yet to acquire -but- you’re aiming at not to just to put up with a facade and impress whoever then go right ahead.

But we can’t deny we have all been in this situation at one point in our lives, sometimes we fake it to get what we want, or to impress in a certain situation or to just put up with society’s conditions. But we can all agree it can be draining, having to wake up every morning and heading out with the wide smile on our faces whereas we’re dealing with a bleeding heart, or having to stick with people who just arent the energy we need just to feel among . I’ve heard situations of mostly public figures who fall into depression or getting addicted to drugs, alcohol , name it. Sometimes having to keep up with who you’re not takes a huge toll on us, our minds and bodies react differently which is why you may be thinking all is well with you right now and you’re just going to keep up the act for a day or more. Consciously or subconsciously you may be living a lie which isnt a reflection of who you truly are.

Faking it till you make it – the amount of different explanations given to this theory. Dont give it an explanation that suits your negative path, just because you can. Fake that confidence till you achieve it, till it becomes a normalcy , not faking it to try intimidate someone else. Going spiritual we could liken this quote to ‘faith’. Acting like you’ve gotten what you prayed for before even actually getting it, believing it and even actualizing it. Its an amazing feeling.

So whatever thing it is you may be faking at the moment . Best it be a positive thing that’s going to help your growth or you’re bound to have problems proving what you’re not , never were and may never be. Fake it for the right purpose and goal.

Hope you had fun reading, dont forget to follow, like, and share with your friends.

Wilfred Peculiar

With Love.

The African Explanation For A Woman With A Beard

    ‘Any woman who grows a beard has a tendency to be wicked or already has wickedness in her actions’ . That’s the explanation I was given when my curiosity got the best of me in a bid to understand why women grew beards. My tender mind didn’t know better and I swallowed what I was told hook, line and sinker. I grew up believing any woman with a beard was harsh, cruel and wicked and the beard was just an identification of such trait.

I had woken up at the start of the day , and picked up my mirror to begin my occasional assessment of any irregularities on my face, and my eyes fell upon something out of a nightmare, the one thing I had dreaded the most, right there underneath my jaw, a somewhat beautiful, shiny strand of hair had sprouted overnight. My heart knew no joy, I tried to pick it out – to no avail. I immediately showed my mum, called up my siblings,  I cried. I was upset, was I wicked to anyone recently? Did I have traits of wickedness in me? I kept pondering as to why I would have that at such a young age. Just few years ago I had been told the superstitious meaning of it and now I was experiencing it. Just horrible!

I hid it as much as I could, going to school every morning was uncomfortable as I had to tilt my head in a tiresome manner whenever anyone came too close so they wouldn’t have to see it. I was too young to embrace the ‘love your flaws’ theory. How could I love something which portrays me as a wicked person? . As time went by, I learnt a new technique of using  fire to burn the strand, it became a routine, I’d burn it and weeks, sometimes days later it would reappear then I’d burn it again.  Such stubborn hair!. That was as risky as it was stressful.  I remember being at school and someone saying to me ‘you have hair on your chin, are you wicked?’ Of course it was a joke but I had to literally force a laugh out.

After I was done with school and began to socialise more, I soon realized there were a lot of females with a beard too , those who didn’t let it dim their light or affect their social life, some had even found ways to get rid of it. And here I was crying over one strand . I grew more in knowledge and realized facial hair had nothing to do with character or any of sort.

As Africans we are made to attach superstitious myths to anything unusual or unheard of ,but that doesnt make it any bit true. Whenever you see a female with a beard understand that character traits has absolutely nothing to do with it and most importantly,  never forget to show love.

From now henceforth guys I’ll be making an occasional blog post (asides from my regular blog posts) about African superstitions and beliefs. To my African  and non – African followers and readers, hope you’ll enjoy this and appreciate the extra knowledge about the African culture.

Dont forget to like, comment and share with others! Hope you had fun reading.

With Love.

Wilfred Peculiar

Mistakes

She knew, the moment she said ‘yes’ and he slipped the ring on her finger she had to tell him the truth, maybe he wouldn’t react as angrily as she had imagined, moreover he claimed to love her, he had sworn to go the greatest lengths for her.
Two weeks gone past, and she stood before her full length mirror, taking in her reflection and she couldn’t escape the bulge, a faint one, maybe would even go unnoticed by others, but her subconscious could feel the little kicks in her tummy when it was clearly impossible for there to be any, was this love she felt?.


It was a meeting, just a dinner with an old friend gone wrong, Ha!, who was she kidding? , it was plain cheating, she going back to her past ,something she had always bragged about never doing but what happens when the past comes to you?, when the one thing you’d been staying away from comes knocking at your doorstep?, how far can you run?, she was planning marriage with a man while bearing the child of another. How epic, it seemed life was playing a sick joke on her, all sorts of concussion yet she was still with a child, she thought about taking the risk and telling her fiancé, if he really loved her as he claimed he would accept her and whatever baggage she came with or so she thought.


She knew she had to make a decision and quick because her state was going to become obvious to all soon, she had called her ex telling him she was pregnant but rather got the shock of her life when he blatantly told her to get rid of it, such guts! Sounded like he was talking about discarding a piece of furniture, his child, her child was much more than that, was this love she felt?.
No need of her trying to live with a lie, her fiancé was no dummy ,as all the times they’d mated, protection was involved, she turned her back on the mirror and decided within her , she was going to tell him, whatever the consequences may be.




‘Babe, I’m sorry’, she said for the hundredth time, knees bended and pleading, she sought her fiancé’s forgiveness but he had his back turned on her, he was beyond upset, but she continued to plead her cause, she didn’t want to lose the good man she had had in her life for years, he had never cheated, and now it felt like she was the devil, cheating was one thing but she being pregnant, she knew she had hurt him immensely .
‘Babe , I’m sorry, I really am, it was all a stupid mistake’ . This caused him to turn violenty, she twitched.
‘A mistake, you slept with another man and got pregnant for him and you call that a mistake, what bloody mistake!’, he scolded her, ‘you’ve been lying to me, for how long?’ She could see the pain in his eyes, it burned her flesh like lava.


‘How dare you accept my proposal with another man’s child in you?, how bold of you, you spit in my face, you disgust me, I must say’ with that he walked out.
She remained on the floor, the tears flowing carelessly, her heart was smashed , she could see her future and plans for a happy home walk out with him, she knew she had lost a diamond in the rough, never had she seen him as angry as he was in the five years she had known him, her engagement was broken , she didn’t need a soothsayer to tell her that, she braced herself, took off the diamond encrusted ring that has sat pretty on her slender finger , placed it on the table and found her way out of his house and his life for this was her cross to bear alone.





Wilfred Peculiar.

With Love.

An Eye For An Eye

Hi guys, don’t forget to follow, click the like button and share with your friends

Just one of my random stories. Hope you enjoy!

He had done it again. This time harder , I had taken more than enough, was this a part of the itinerary?. I laid still on the floor, my legs too weak to support my weight, the pain my body felt was indescribable but it was nothing compared to how I felt on the inside, my heart was crushed, my soul trampled upon


I had been told I was special growing up, I was told I was worthy but now, all that mattered was what he thought of me and I knew my place, i was less than unworthy, i was nothing
A slave to this thing called marriage, ’till death do us part’ I had happily vowed, right now I ponder on the words I had said on the spur of the moment, how else was best to leave this man I had called my husband who had treated me like I was no less a help.
3 months into, I had begun to notice changes in the man I had married, Verbally, emotionally, then physically, the abuse was unending.


As a lady my mother had advised to go into marriage with a thick skin as men would always be men neither was I allowed to leave my marriage but this thick skin had worn off and I was left vulnerable, naked and defenseless
Odd thoughts had been flooding my mind , the type to make one cringe when heard of, I wanted to regurgitate all he had done to me, no one had to know, I was the victim, nothing had to change, ’till death do us part’, one of us had to die, hasn’t it always been said tough times called for tough decisions. I could feel it in my fractured bones, I could smell it through the bloodly breath I took, My freedom.


Stop Domestic Violence


Wilfred Peculiar.

With Love.

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