A man who lived in a densely populated of African suburbs, Isaiah Jokoni, was happy with his life and he had a descent house and a descent job . He loved his job greatly as a mechanical engineer. One day he found himself late for work as he sped up to board a commuter omnibus at a nearby local bus station. By the time Isaiah arrived at the bus station the minibus was nearly full with one vacant left for one passenger. Isaiah smiled and thinking how luck he was as he squeezed in at the front seat next to the  bus driver. He was drenching with sweat and Isaiah realised that he was not immune to the African summer heat wave  although it was still in the morning  and everyone was starting to feel the heat.  Isaiah wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hands.  He opened the window in front to alleviate the situation and opened as well two top  buttons  of his shirt, allowing the air to cool him.

When Isaiah got settled, he pulled out his mobile from his porch bag. It was one of the latest Nokia phone he had bought in the last two weeks. He stroked his phone as  he thought of texting a message to his boss letting him know that he was on his way though he was running late. Isaiah had finished typing the message when the mini bus stopped at a red traffic lights. He was about to press a send button when the phone simply disappeared from his hands.  Isaiah had not seen how it happened  but the rest of the passengers had seen the thief coming and the thief had pretended like someone who was about to cross the road.

“It’s the thief, It’s the thief,” everyone shouted in despair and anger on top of their voices. Some were pointing in the direction where the thief had gone whilst others banging on the windows and drumming on the floor with their feet. The man whose phone was stolen , Isaiah Jokoni, was silent for a moment and when he gained his voice he called out in desperation: Press Send! Press Send! Unfortunately his words were swallowed by  thick air as the thief faded away into the crowds.

The Importance of First Aid. How to Stop the Blood Coming Out From the Nose!!

Everyday we face challenges and calamities that need an immediate human response. One of the challenges is that accidents do occur unexpectedly some are fatal and some are minor hence they need human touch or basic knowledge how to handle the situation. I found out majority of us do lack those basic skills that are vital to save someone’s life. We tend to panic and shiver with terror when we do not know how to handle the situation. In many cases we end up dialling the emergency number 999 and of which is greatly advisable. In normal circumstances they end up giving you some advice how to help the person in need while the paramedics are on their way.

Recently I faced a similar challenge and fortunately enough I had the basic skills to ease the problem. It so happened that last week Friday I went to a night vigil where I was invited by one of my neighbours. I sat behind a lovely couple. The husband was holding their two-year-old boy throughout the night though here and the wife would hold the baby boy for some few minutes. I could see the reason why the husband would volunteered more to hold the child, the toddle had a bit of weight.

It was nearly 3 am in the morning and I saw the toddler oozing some blood from his nose. His father had held him high up on her left shoulder. The blood was soaking thoroughly on the father’s green jumper.  Immediately I poked the dad with my finger and alerted what had befallen their little boy. He lifted him up and put laid him carefully on his lap. Sensing the danger I went straight to the couple and politely I told the father that I wanted to offer some help and stopping the blood from bleeding. He agreed and listened for my advice.  Here is the sequence that I followed to stop the blood  from coming out:

First step: I asked the father to hold her son’s head and tilt it slightly. The tilting position enables the blood to change the course of flow. By tilting the head you had automatically stopped the blood to come out from the nose.

Secondly, I hit lightly with a good punch on the forehead of the victim. Two lightly punches would be considered good enough to blockade the blood from oozing and redirect  it to other courses of flow in the body.

Thirdly, I waited for a minute or two whilst the head is on tilting position giving the blood allowance of finding its normal course of flow.

Finally, I asked the father to release the toddler’s head and it was all done.

At home you may follow these simple first aid steps and save someone from loosing a lot of blood.

My eldest sister passed these basic skills on to me when I was as young as seven. In the course of event I managed to help so many people, pupils at school.  I became known for helping people to stop the blood from coming out from their nose. Today I freely pass this information to you and help many in times of dire situations. Knowledge is power and be in control. I hope you have benefited something from reading this article.

Do You Know Someone Who Wants a Husband?

I had boarded my local circular bus that travels within the radius of Stockport and Offerton and I was going to the town centre. Two stops after I  boarded the bus, it came to a halt letting some passengers in and some out. “Are you ok?” I heard a hoarse female voice, and at first I thought it was other passengers talking to each other, little did I know that question was directed to me as a first greeting statement from a close neighbour whom I haven’t seen over a year though we  live five minutes apart in a clustered community. I looked up as I felt that someone was looking at me closely, our eyes met and I knew instantly it was my long time neighbour, Sheena, who had just greeted me. She sat in front of me, as she huddled her three-year-old boy on her lap and dragged her luggage next to her feet.

“I am fine and well,” I answered her not revealing the annoyance in my tone that had been affected from the form of her first greeting. “ You …busy, busy every time,” she said with a tone of accusation. “Not as busy as you think,” I said calmly letting the words soak in her. After a while there was a form of silence between us and then I saw her twisting her head and turned her face to me. We gazed squarely at each other as I studied her countenance. I felt she wanted to say more to me and I smiled in a way that said I was ready to listen if you have something at heart. I think she finally understood my body language and sprang into life like an engine that has put into ignition.

“Do you know someone who wants a husband?” she asked as her brown eyes gazed at me. I tried to ponder on the question as it struck me unexpectedly. What does she mean? Is this an indirect question? I mulled over it. Yes, I had the right to think this was an indirect question since I am single lady. I never heard people saying I am looking for a husband but they would say I am looking or searching for a boyfriend or a man who wants to enter in a long term relationship. It was a tricky question hence I did not have a substantial answer for it. “No. Not that I know,” I said and “Why?” I solicited.

“Well, there is a Polish guy who is looking for someone to marry and I am sourcing around and asking all my friends,” she said as the bus took the second exist that led onto A626. “Is the Polish guy interested in black girls only?” I asked with a curious tone and shoved myself a bit closer to her. “No,” she said but the girl has to pay me some money,” Sheena blurted out.  “Why money?” I became very inquisitive. “I think the man should pay you”, I added not knowing where this conversation would lead me. “The girl would leave a good life afterwards,” Sheena said “and I would ask her to give me £500.00.” “Why £500,00 Sheena? I asked her. “I am in a business, Euna, and I am the agent. The girl must not have papers to enter this relationship. She would benefit once she is married to this Polish guy. Her status in UK would have improved,” Sheena, concluded her conversation with a cough note.

All of a sudden my eyes were literally opened. I understood the depth of the story. I have heard these kinds of stories in all sources of media and some of the stories were hard to believe and at some stages I thought the media was stereotyping, yet in reality things were surfacing. These kinds of marriages are known as sham in UK. People take risks in doing these marriages. They are clandestinely done because UK government classify them as illegal contracts and once caught one can be sued or send into a prison. Thousands of pounds are paid out between the groups to make one’s wish successful. I was shocked that I was hearing from the horse’s mouth and yet she was publicly discussing it. “All the best,” Sheena, I said as I peeped outside and saw the birds of the earth flying freely and singing songs of freedom.

Is it cheap to buy online or in a shop? Shop wisely!!!


Shopping could be an addiction for others and buy anything they come across. At times people they don’t check how much they have spent and as a result one ends up just shopping without comparing the prizes. I am interested in shopping but I have always wanted to shop around. It gives me the opportunity to compare prizes hence saving loads of money even it means saving £0.50 or £1.00. Tesco’s motto says: Every little helps.

Recently I visited a hobby craft shop with the intent to buy a certain product I wanted. In the middle of browsing through  I met a lady in the same shop who said it’s much better to buy things from online because it’s reasonably cheap. I did agree with her to some extent but I reserved some of my comments to myself. I had a look on the product I was looking for and I found it in the shop. The prize was £4.49 each and I wanted to buy two but then I decided not to buy and have a look online.

When I went home I dashed on my computer and began online shopping. I browse through the most common online sites the eBay and Amazon looking for the same product that I had seen from my local shop. I found it on Amazon. The prize of the product was £0.0 1 each but the postage cost was £4.50 each.  I calculated the cost of two products and it was almost equal with the prize from the shop. I shop around again and I saw the same product being sold at £2.99 and the postage was free within UK.  I decided to buy it because the prize of two products would cost me £5.98. I would have saved £4.02. So I proceeded with my purchasing and I was almost completing the online purchasing when I noticed that the total amount I should pay was £9.00 instead of £5.98. I wondered why when it was clearing written free to post within UK? I saw that a £4.00 was added as part of pack and a vat. So again it added to £9.98. Then I concluded where to buy.

I thrashed the online purchase and decided to go back to my local shop, and buy the same product and which would be delivered in my hands at the time of purchasing. Unlike online which looked cheap at the cost of product but expensive on posting, pack and vat. I would wait for three  or more days before my product is delivered to me. Online uses a strategy to lure you and believe the prize is cheap and they recover their money by introducing high prizes for posting, pack and vat. If I want to be honest that product would not even cost £4 or more to deliver in UK.  It is very light and it would have cost a £1,00 or less on posting. This is a fact.

My advice is to shop wisely. Always ask is it worth to buy online or rather buy on your local shop if the prize is less than few pence difference. Remember with online you got to wait for some days after you buy unlike in local shops it’s in your hands the moment you purchase. I would buy online when it’s reasonably cheap or the product(s) is rarely found in the local shops.





Child Spacing

Life in Bulawayo ca. 1900

One man who lived in Chegutu, Zimbabwe, he heard people talking of family planning and they emphasised on child spacing.  He thought deeply about it and he realised since he had been married he had six children born one year after another. He still wanted a big family and he enjoyed his role as a father. One morning he woke up and told his wife that he was travelling to Bulawayo to see one of his best mates who he had not seen for ages. The wife battled with the idea and tried to dissuade her husband not to travel and this was going to be their first separation since they have been married for six years.

“Baba, baba” the wife cried bitterly as she held tightly her husband, “please don’t go, I love you and I won’t be able to copy up with the children alone,” she said as she blew her nose on her old white handkerchief. “No, no. I can’t stay here,” the husband said as he pulled his wife’s hands away and transfixed his huge eyes on his wife. “This journey is for your favour, darling. Since we have been married you are breeding children like mice. I don’t like that and I want to give you some rest,” the husband spoke with reassuring tone. I will travel to Bulawayo to do some child spacing. “If it is for some child spacing baba, I will let you go but just remember to write back. She affectionately kissed her husband and bade farewell.  The husband left for Bulawayo.

After nine months gone, the husband wrote his first letter to his wife in Chegutu. Upon receiving the letter, the wife danced with joy that her long gone husband had finally thought of her. With excitement burning in her she gathered all her six children around her and opened the letter so she could share the good news with the children. Carefully she pulled out the letter from the white envelope and smiled as her eyes lay upon her husband’s writing for the first time.

The wife began to read loudly: Dear first lady. Firstly, I would like to apologise that I have taken so long to write to you, darling. I hope this letter will find you well and our children. Secondly, this for you and our children, I would like to inform you that my journey for child spacing was successful as ever, here in Bulawayo. I am grateful to announce that a newly born bouncing baby boy has been added to our family. I am writing while the baby rest peacefully in his mother’s lap whilst my other hand strokes the head of my second beautiful African queen.

It was when she finished reading the wife realised what she had read. She tore the letter and cried bitterly. “To hell with child spacing,” she cursed and promising herself never wants to see this cheating man.

Was there a war?

Big Brother 2004 (UK)

Once upon a time in suburban bliss village there lived two middle-aged women who had interesting personalities. The two women were known as Mrs Zipora and Mrs Big Brother. Mrs Zipora, a calm and cagey person. Mrs Big Brother an observant, wild at heart and interested in other’s people activities. On this day, Mrs Big Brother had noticed a male visitor entering Mrs Zipora’s house. She also recognised the face and that he was a local pastor from a nearby church. Mrs Big Brother waited patiently as she peeped through from her first floor bedroom window. At the background of her house was a green tall hedge giving a good cover that nobody would have noticed her.  She smiled at the thought and carried on with her mission. She stood for a long time, an hour had passed away but she did not see the pastor coming out of the house. She wondered why it had taken so long for him to leave her neighbour’s house. “Was something missing?” she struggled with her mind. Thirty minutes later, then she saw the pastor leaving as he drove his car away.

Mrs Big Brother rushed down her stairs and exited her house as her fast moving legs led her to Mrs Zipora’s house, whom she found still standing at her doorstep as she watched the pastor’s car vanished from a distance and smiled. Mrs Zipora was surprised to see Mrs Big Brother standing next to her and she had not seen how she came about to her house. The two ladies stared at each other as they weighed their thoughts inwardly. Mrs Big Brother forced a cough and hesitated to start a conversation but in the end she realised she had no option but to ask the very question she wanted to know.

“Eeer…eerh”, she stammered as she began the conversation. “ I saw a pastor coming out of your house,” Mrs Big Brother spoke as her eyes remained fixed on her neighbour, Mrs Zipora. “Is someone ill in your house?” she asked with a soliciting tone. This kind of ferreting infuriated her neighbour, Mrs Zipora, who was now determined to fire back.

“What’s wrong with you woman?” Mrs Zipora hissed back and fiercely looked to her opponent. “Yesterday,” she continued. “I saw a soldier coming out of your house,” Mrs Zipora said as her shivering finger pointed at Mrs Big Brother’s house as she failed to control her flared temper. “Tell me now, Mrs Big Brother, was there a war in your house?”

“All Van Persie,” A song of Jubilation and Victory from all the way Southampton to Manchester sang by Manchester United fans.

Robin van Persie

Robin van Persie 

We had driven an estimate of more than two hundred miles from Southampton heading to Manchester. My friends and I had decided to take a break and stopped on one of the service stations along the motorway. We were both coming from Isle of Wight where we had visited some close relatives who were involved in a car accident in Zimbabwe, and miraculously all the six passengers including a six months old baby survived the accident with minor scratches with the exception of the mother of the baby who suffered from severe broken left leg, her right feet cracked underneath and the ankles twisted. Her situation forced her to depend on other people and so in the end we decided to take the baby away from her for a while so that she could recover with less stress.

It was on the previous weekend and on a Sunday night we were on our way back. Having stopped at the service station we decided to go for KFC food, it was good for family size portions and reasonably cheap. As we found ourselves standing behind the counter, a group three young white lads saw us and between us they saw their rival exposed by his Manchester city attire, which he had worn that day as we travelled back to Manchester. They came to us and sang in front of him. “All Van Persie,” they sang for a while and stopped as they ordered their food. We took our order and went and sat down. Whilst in the middle of eating our KFC food, we heard a roar of sound that covered the KFC building, all the diners were now singing: “All Van Persie”. They sang for a good one solid minute. It was then we realised that the entire service station was flooded with Manchester United fans of all ages, the young ones and the adults. Little did we know that we had travelled on the same boat with the Manchester United supporters or royalists from Southampton heading to north west direction?

“Why are they singing about Van Persie?” I asked my uncle the Manchester United rival who was sitting opposite to me with the interest. “It is because he scored all three goals for Manchester United.” he answered and “also sending a message to me as their rival that they have won the game,” he added as his eyes scanned around the Manchester United fans.

I felt the coldness and a pang of jealous for Manchester United. Van Persie was one of our footballer legends in Arsenal team.  His move to Manchester United left a big vacuum and it is irreplaceable for our team. I do understand these were last minutes for the Arsenal team to make an important decision and get something useful by selling him to Manchester United. If things were reversible I would have wanted Van Persie back to our team. He is the one of the greatest footballers in the world. In the end I ended up singing: All Van Persie, and my uncle the rival for Manchester United thought I was singing to annoy him like the Manchester United fans. “Nada,” I said to him in Portuguese language and shook my head in denial. I was singing for the joy. “All Van Persie.” Van Persie had made himself proud to be who he is, a star that shines among stars.

“The Higher You Go The Cooler It Becomes!!”

A certain young man in Harare, Zimbabwe, invited his friend from rural areas to visit him in Harare for holidays. The friend in the rural area accepted  the invitation. He was over the moon with happiness  as the invitation mark his first voyage into the cities which he had dreamed of and heard people talked about. In  a way he was grateful to have such a wonderful friend who always thought of him. It took him some months to prepare for the journey mentally and physically. He imagined or visualised how the Harare City would look like and ended up smiling when these loving thoughts floated in his mind.

Finally the day came up and the rural boy saw himself travelling to Harare for the first time in his life.  He bade farewell to his family as he clambered onto the bus  and the family waved back and wished the best of all lucky on his journey. He smiled and the bus roared for two hundred miles into the city. He found his friend waiting for him at the bus terminus. The two hugged and patted each other on their shoulders as the emotions of reuniting took over. The city guy took his friend to his flat which he shared with other residents. He prepared the meal and chatted animatedly till wee hours. “It is time to go bed”, his  city friend announced as he closed all the windows and bring the curtains down. Silently the country folk followed his ghetto friend into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, the friend changed into his pyjamas and gave a new pair to his rural friend who was astonished to find out there are clothes to be worn at sleeping time.  He was used to sleep naked or to sleep on his everyday clothes. His friend called him to come bed and sleep next to him. “No, no, I can not sleep on the bed,” he spoke with a defiant tone. “Why not?”  the city guy asked his friend with an inquisitive tone. The answer he got he had never expected it in a million times. “I just learnt recently, he blurted out, eerh that….  “that a bed is for a man and a woman to share” the city folk said as  he interrupted his country folk. They two friends laughed. “No, no. I just learnt recently from my geography teacher that the higher you go the cooler it becomes.  The city folk exploded in laughter as his friend watched him in awe.