It was a cool, quiet evening—one of those rare days when the city seemed to exhale. I boarded the bus home from work, grateful for the unusual calm. The vehicle was only half-full, a welcome contrast to the usual chaos of rush hour. The driver was sealed off in his little cubicle up front, and we passengers were scattered like leaves on a still pond. Among them was a man who immediately caught my eye—late 60s, wearing a crisp white cap that read ' Chosen One' in bold black letters. He was flipping through a newspaper with such frantic energy it looked like he was searching for something long lost—or perhaps arguing with the headlines themselves. Opposite him sat another older man, though you wouldn't know it from his clothes. He was dressed like a teenager—like someone clinging to relevance with both hands. Then, out of nowhere, the man in the cap spoke, loud and clear, as if addressing a courtroom rather than a quiet bus. 'Does time determine what's right or wrong...
Since she started buying her sanitary towels with her hard-earned money, she opened an excel sheet where she created data, updated every month. This also accommodated the contributions of her parents during her early years and each month after an update, the amount would draw closer to buying land in Epe… She hardly used condoms but her boyfriend buys a pack once in four months, sometimes 6 months. Once he got it for free. It was a souvenir at a wedding party. It lasted for al most a year… They call it KONJI! When it falls upon you, it is like an electric shock. If you are strong enough it would go as soon as it came. If you are not, well you will have to do “the do” although making sure it's with someone pure of any infectious disease. If you are not sure then you have t o use a raincoat so no devilish rain will drench you towards death. The condom becomes your PADI, that's if your KONJI a llows you to even think up to this level… From Medieval times, menstrua...