Kingsley Okeke @kingsleychi

I noticed weevils in my beans, and this disappointment and anger welled up inside me. If only these weevils knew how much beans were selling for in Nigeria right now, they wouldn't have dared to approach my bag of food. I sat down, pondering the best punishment to deal with these pests, but I couldn't come up with an effective plan.

Among the ideas swirling in my mind, one suggested itself: frying the beans to dry them out and kill the weevils inside. However, I also realized that this would spoil the beans over time. I contemplated just sealing the bag tightly, but I knew that wouldn’t be efficient either. While I was still considering my options, a friend came to visit and suggested a solution. He told me about using grounded pepper as a remedy.

Encouraged by his advice, I decided to try it. I rubbed the grounded pepper generously on the beans, making sure to cover as much surface area as possible. Then, I waited anxiously to see if it would work.

Days passed, and slowly but surely, I began to notice fewer weevils scurrying about. It was a relief to see my intervention paying off. I kept the pepper on the beans for a while longer to ensure any remaining pests would be eradicated.

My beans were savedat last !

Whenever I had a visitor over, I always gravitated towards the right side of my bed which was the side closest to the wall. It was where I felt most comfortable, a habit I had grown fond of over time. But during one particular visit, my friend, who could be quite stubborn, insisted on taking that spot. Despite my clear objections, she persisted and ended up pushing me towards the end of the bed.

I tried to keep my frustrations in check. Our friendship had evolved to a point where we rarely allowed petty disagreements to get the better of us. Still, I found it hard to manage my discomfort in that moment. I shifted uncomfortably, attempting to acclimate to my new position, but it wasn't easy.

Then, out of nowhere, a bit of unexpected drama unfolded, a mystery of its own. My fan, which had been blowing a steady breeze in the room suddenly fell, landing right on my friend’s head. The suddenness of it all startled him and shook him awake from his stubbornness.

Seizing the opportunity, I quickly switched positions, reclaiming my rightful side of the bed.

During the last Christmas, I decided to make a difference. Since everyone was becoming an adult, I thought it was time for me to step into that role as well. This year, I wouldn’t be taking myself out for an outing or a party. I didn’t want to go to the zoo or the cinema like I usually did. Instead, I wanted to do something meaningful.

During the morning of Christmas, I had helped out with the cooking, helping out with other things needed for the festive meal. It was no small feat, but I welcomed the stress that came with preparing for such a special day. After hours of chopping, stirring, and seasoning, we finally finished cooking and arranging the sumptuous food.

While my siblings eagerly prepared to head out to a nearby restaurant to indulge themselves, I chose a different path. I took a refreshing bath to wash away the morning’s labor and changed into comfortable clothes, ready to feast on the delicious meals we had prepared.

I lost track of time as I indulged. I ate enough to the point of overfeeding myself.
With a contented sigh, I pushed back from the table, a satisfied smile on my face. My belly felt pleasantly full, yet as I stood up, I found it difficult to walk, and that brought me more joy.

After the meal, I decided to treat myself to some relaxation. I grabbed my favorite drink, headed straight to my room, and settled onto my bed. Turning on my data, I lost myself in the vast world of the internet. I scrolled through social media, enjoying pictures of friends celebrating and sharing their festive moments. It felt nice to share in the joy, even from a distance.
I called my youngest sister and gave her some money, asking her to pick me up a tub of ice cream on her way back from their outing.

My ceiling fan was looking unsteady as it hung in the center of my room. It was time to take care of it, so I decided I would call an electrician within the week. After two days, I found an electrician who came to fix it. I thought he had done a good job, and I felt relieved.

That day, I had gone to school, and when I returned home, my mind was focused on studying for the exam coming up the next day. I positioned my desk right in the middle of my room, hoping the fan would blow cool air directly on me as I prepared to read throughout the night.

The looked alright, providing the perfect breeze, and I settled in, enjoying the comfort it gave me.
Just as I was begun to dive deep into my studying, the fan crashed down landing directly on my head. I stood frozen for a moment, and stared at the metal on my floor with shock. Miraculously, the blade didn’t scratch or injure me, but the head impact ached me so much that I felt all motivation to continue reading evaporate. I quickly tossed my book aside and crawled into bed.

That night was ruined for reading and turned into a deep sleep. I didn’t pick up a single textbook again until the next morning when I finally started to feel more like myself.

Despite my efforts to put it behind me, I couldn’t shake the irritation I felt toward the electrician. Did he really fix it properly, or had he simply made a careless mistake? Disappointment washed over me, and I found myself calling him to vent my frustration. If the fan had fallen harmlessly onto the floor, perhaps my anger wouldn’t have been so intense, but it had fallen on my head, the very head that needed to be clear and focused for my exam preparation.