4 Reasons Why You Should Die To Be A Part Of The 2017 Global Mentoring Walk Happening In Calabar
Sometime ago Emmanuel “Worldchanger” Bassey informed me of a Mentoring Program. At first, I was skeptical, but I decided to try it. You know… It doesn’t hurt to try something new, so I registered as a mentee and say what! It was awesome. Here are 4 real reasons why you should be part of this mentoring program if you’re a female in Calabar. 1. You Get To Be Mentored By A Renown And More Experienced Female In Whatever Career Path You Choose I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted. I wanted to play the guitar better (yes I’m a fabulous guitarist), to know how to publish books and write better. My first mentor was and is still a very amazing lady, Esther Eshiet. Under her mentorship, I started Blankpaperz. A friend of mine who was interested in on-air media ended up getting paired with a mentor who worked with the…
Poison by Mirabelle Morah
POISON I just couldn’t stand all their noise and trouble. I’ve never wanted to be the kind of girl to get married, have kids, have trouble with my husband, divorce and leave broken kids behind. No! Been there, felt that. So I’d often toyed with the idea of not getting married at all. I knew I couldn’t get married and not have children, but I want my own kids and I don’t want them to go through the hell I went through with my parents. I couldn’t bear the noise any longer. It seemed my earphones couldn’t drown their noise and yells as well as the shatters. I didn’t want to get emotional, so I got up from my bed, went straight for my drawer and picked up my headphones. The bass tone would’ve been enough to shut out the noise even from a drone. Tears slid down my face.…
Mirabelle’s 2016 Lessons
Somewhere in the last quarter of 2016, I felt like I had wasted my entire year. I was heartbroken about certain issues. During my first semester exams, I couldn’t even concentrate. One time, I nearly gave up on reading anything for my exam, my heart wasn’t in it, I guess it was somewhere outside Nigeria. Anyway, I wrote about it and titled it Flashback to My Exam Experience this Semester. But I’m happy those days are past me. These are the lessons I learned in 2016. 1. Communication is key! It is vital! It is important! You need to communicate with people. Speak your mind (tactfully). Tell people what you need. Don’t be afraid. If you don’t like something, say it. If you feel down, speak to someone. If you like someone, say so. If you admire someone successful and would like to connect with them, walk up to them…
The Udala Tree In Our Backyard by Mirabelle Morah
Sometimes I like to watch the leaves fall from our Udala tree behind the house. Nne is so over protective of our Udala tree, she’s always in the kitchen watching out for the small boys who like climbing people’s Udala trees and plucking all their ripe Udala. I also like to watch when Jide’s father comes to pick him up from school. All the form 3 boys envy Jide’s father’s car and how he’s so overprotective of his car. He never lets any of the students come near his car, talk-less of laying a finger on it. Sometimes I think about me in the next ten years. I wonder what I would hold priceless to me. Will I be a big man and hold my possessions close to my heart just like Jide’s father. What if I spend my time struggling for a piece of farmland in the village, like…
I Wish I Knew by Mirabelle Morah
I enjoy making everyone in my stories suffer, but for this girl, I sincerely cried when I was writing this. This is one story which broke my heart and broke the water from my tear glands. I cannot begin to imagine what real life people in her shoes go through. I was so worried about her, and I still am.
Please if you find another like her, encourage her, love her, hold her and tell her that she will be okay and she has got to be strong.
Violence affects a growing child’s psyche. Let’s stop violence.
I’m Not ‘Understanding’ This African Time Thing Nigerians Do Again oo by Mirabelle Morah
I offered to volunteer at a friend’s event at Akpabuyo. A few hours to the event I received a WhatsApp message that it had been shifted to the next day. The next day, I got up early, took a keke to an ATM to withdraw some money so I could have enough to get to Akpabuyo (this was after contemplating so much and I finally decided it was for God’s work). Then I dressed up, hung my guitar and after a few calls, we agreed that we were going to meet up at HungerSpot, Etaagbor. I called that I was at HungerSpot and I was told to wait a few more minutes, my brothers and sisters, that was how the few more minutes turned into a full blown hour. After counting a few more minutes past one hour, I jehjehly carried myself and went back home. I tried to reason,…
Lagos Memories: The untold stories about my holiday in Lagos – Mirabelle Morah
You know, in Calabar you can afford to catwalk when crossing Calabar Road or Marian market, but in Lagos, even if a car is still 20miles away, mbok just run for your life because some buses can just perform magic and appear from nowhere. Lagos just isn’t Calabar. All my life I’ve lived in Calabar and so I’m always too thrilled to go away on holidays. I planned my holiday to Lagos long long before I actually traveled. I took up a job and worked for some money. Saved part of it for my Lagos trip and used part for my upkeep, but you know how it is na, before I knew it I had almost eaten up everything I’d saved. I didn’t know anywhere in Lagos. I didn’t have any friends there. In fact, the only time I had been to Lagos, I spent just about 3 days there.…
Familiar African Tales | Ekpo in GSS Exam By Mira Morah
“Psst! Pssst! Nora!” I didn’t want to turn towards her so I pretended not to hear her. I felt a tap on my back. I pretended it was just a housefly perching on my back. Another pinch. Pinch. Tap. I leaned back and tilted my head a bit. “Please do you know number three?” She asked. I shook my head. “Please let me just see what you’ve shaded, that’s number three shae?” “I’m not sure if it’s correct. Sorry.” I quickly whispered back and leaned forward to focus on my work. When I thought I was safe from any further interruptions, I began shedding again, piecing together strings of ideas and thoughts on how to attack the questions. I was so sure of them! Then I heard the ruffling sound of papers behind me. So this babe even went as far as bringing in micro-chips! “Issoraid!” I thought to myself…
Familiar African Tales | MY PALLY PALLY BY MIRA MORAH
She was my pally pally, as we called it back in school. We walked back home together from school, we sat close to each other in class, we stayed in each other’s houses till night, we even helped each other out in tests. But one day, nemesis decided to catch up with us. It was in our final year in secondary school and we were writing the ‘holy exam.’ Yeah, CRK. She asked me for an answer, and if I can remember well, we sat far apart from each other that day. So, I wrote down the answers on my question paper and passed it on to her. It didn’t take long for God to chastise me. As the invigilator moved towards where she sat, he noticed the scribblings on her paper and asked who it belonged to. Prayers began to flow from me like never before. Even my sweat…
Familiar African Tales | Pressurized By Mirabelle Morah
I don’t know how I survived high school without a boyfriend but hey! I survived. One young man kept on pressurizing my life right from my first senior class down to my last. Even my very own best friend said some nasty things to me just because she wanted me to have a boyfriend. Trust me, I wasn’t the holy type but I guess I unconsciously set standards for myself. In my final year in high school, believe you me, the pressure got realer than real. Left, right, center, people made me feel so evil for refusing to date. In fact, my classmates would fix seminars for me and ask why I wasn’t dating the young man yet. Well people, I still didn’t date him. Whatever the case be, it’s always important to set standards for yourself and stand for what you believe in. Don’t follow the crowd. By Mirabelle…
Once Upon A Girl By Mirabelle Morah
Cynthia was always nice to me. She had the prettiest smile and the prettiest hair, not that I knew many girls but Cynthia lived next door. “You, come out and play with me.” She’d call out on Wednesday evenings. “Hey, come on and eat with me.” She’d say to me in school. “Would you be in church today?” She’d ask me on Sunday mornings. Sometimes I thought she cared about me more than my family did and so I trusted her with my trust. My everything. And my life too. It was carol night in church that day. Cynthia made me sing with the junior choir and I had only obliged because she was also in the choir. The air was cold outside and everyone was inside the church building. We stood by the baptism pool, looking into it from behind the fence. “Mama says once I turn 16 I…
My Crack By Mirabelle Morah
I’m not actually a wonderful person. My name means wonderful, but many times I’m less than wonderful. I’ve been told of my pride, about my snobbing. These were the periods when I prayed most to God to keep me humble, the periods when I was excessively courteous to people even though they were asswipes. The periods when I wanted to be on my own because I enjoyed my solitude. Time out with God alone, even in the crowd. And still, they called me names. I’m cracked in some areas of my life. Areas one-two persons know about. Jesus uses cracked people. He mends them because He’s the potter who made them and breathed life into their nostrils. I try not to be afraid what people think about my cracks, it only matters what my Potter says.
Midnights by Mirabelle Morah
As she slept through the night she heard it again. This thing—whatever it was—that kept her awake and kept her scared. She’d gone to sleep at a friend’s house once, hoping it’d stop, but rather it continued. The next day, her friend coyly kicked her out of her house. Every night she turned the mirrors towards the wall, shut her windows tight and locked her room door. Not forgetting the kerosene lantern she lit every night and made sure it burned bright, so she could see the shadow of any monster that would creep into her room. It didn’t stop the sounds, or the terrible dreams that felt too real. Hope you slept well. By Mirabelle Morah