And Scrotum speaks...

How do you explain the plight of the grass who suffers the aftermath of the clash between two elephants? Fate! Who decides fate? Isn’t there a provision for an appeal against the biased tendencies and unfair judgement of fate? If we make our fate, then why then do we have sudden twist of events, especially unannounced tragedies? What would make a man choose the gallows in the wake of his prime? How do we explain the brief exit of infants who, knowing no wrong, are snuffed away like a candle caught in the wind….?
Could it be that our fathers have eaten sour grapes and we, the children are fated to pay for it? Cruel fate!

Could it be that the cry of a baby at birth is nothing but a mournful dirge, sparked off by the gifted realization of the cruel interplay of life and death in fate? They mourn while the world merry away! Could this be a sign? A sign that we are nothing but some clowns scripted into this complex and cruel conspiracy called life, staged and managed by a divine muse, to amuse some idle gods!

I am a victim of fate’s calumny! I am burdened by fate or rather, I chose to be burdened! What man would choose to be burdened thus? Such is the calumny of fate.

I am scrotum, the sacred sac of life that is being sapped of life! I am the gate keeper, possessor of life’s trigger. The trigger that hangs loosely like a pendulum, waiting for that sacred moment, when my yoke is ‘unburdened’ with such convulsive jerks and watery humans are released into the race for destiny, there where only the fated survives, at the expense of a million others.
My children are innocently driven into a race which is more of death than of birth… and it is my fate that millions should die for one! What a fate!

What is my grouse?

I have been dealt with so unfairly! For centuries, I have been treated like an outcast! This is nothing but a conspiracy! For how else would you explain my exemption from the sex experience? Isn’t it obvious that this is a ploy to relegate me to the background? Pave the way for logic and let reasoning roam unrestrictedly. For what man would choose to labour like a beast of burden and be denied the satisfaction and beauty that comes with experiencing the joy of ones labour? I am tired of playing the fool! I want a piece of the action! I can’t labour for someone else to enjoy the fruit of my labour! I want to plunge into that sea of unending ecstasy with the Penis! No more playing the gate keeper! All I ask is to be included in the sex experience! I want to make my own fate!

Unspoken words…

She tried to hide the cloud of tears that has suddenly gathered. A product of the surging emotion, stirred by a past whose murky presence lurks in the air around her. She felt the life growing in her womb move gently. Her heart skipped a beat. Each time she feels distraught, the life inside her moves in empathy of her situation. It has a way of always reminding her that she is not alone.

As she cramped in labour, she could hear his voice in her subconsciousness,

“If you let that child live, count me out! We never met”

He had walked out of her life afterwards and had never come back. For nine months, she had drifted in a sea of confusion, perusing the sense in her resolve to keep the baby. Loved ones deserted her like a plague. To the society, whose accolade she has won all her life; tailing the norm like an ardent disciple, she became an outcast!

And there where the road ends, there where the wall stands, it is here she finds herself trapped - pushed to the wall. But then, she has to push! And so she pushed, pushed and pushed…and she pushed some more and the walls gave in…

And when she finally woke up, there beside her, wrapped neatly was a bundle of joy. She peered curiously into the eyes of the one cooing peaceful beside her, like one searching for answers. The baby beamed a smiled at her and that was it! That was all the answers she need. For in that moment, she felt loved…

Vagina Verses...

You are reading this post at your risk! You have been warned!!!

...I am but a pen in the hands of the muse…

I guess you have never thought that someday I would be here speaking to you. It has never crossed your imagination that I have a mind of my own.

“Can a vagina talk?”

Don’t be amused because that laughter would soon become a lump in your throat and that peevish smile on your face would soon become the frown of some village clown. When purpose is not known, abuse is inevitable! Call this a rant of some sort, or a mindless soliloquy, but sit awhile and suspend all personal biases as I take you on this journey of self (sex) discovery. Cry if it hurts, scream if you want, shout if you must and moan if you will, for I am about to disvirgin your thoughts. I am about to unravel some truth your Mama never told you! I am yours truly, Vagina!

Don’t pretend like you don’t know who I am! You are either a possessor of my infinite treasure and inexhaustible pleasure or you are one of those fragile folks with a dangling pendulum suspended in-between their thighs and a trigger of some sort like a sac, hanging loosely. Intoxicated by your pseudo rifle you go about hunting for me under different shades of skirts. You pride in the piles of skirts you think you have exploited and those sacred sanctuaries you have desecrated! What a fool you are! Didn’t your mother tell you, that I am the force that makes your ocean of passion swell? The flaws and strength of great men! Your masculinity ends where my femininity begins! I am your fate! Who then is the prey and who is the hunter? You should know better sons of Dick!

How can I forget those idle moments when you sit among your adulterous friends scheming and planning, sharing filthy tales of your unenviable conquest! How come I have suddenly become the object of amusement? But in the height of your lustful lure I was your angel, honey pie, sugar pie…I was everything to you until you dumped your slimy shame in me and then, I became the bitch! I became the slut! How could someone have condescended from such lofty cherubic height to becoming a thrash where every Dick and sons dump their messy slimy ‘thing’? The angel has suddenly become the bitch! What an antithesis! But wait Mister; has time your intellect deflated? Or is it true that when you get hardened, your reasoning takes flight? Some says it flows to your penis and is released during ejaculation. I guess this explains your after-sex exhaustion and uncivil mannerism.

Now, put that dusty brain to its primary use and let me teach you some vagina truth! If I could take your pseudo rifle in one swallow and dispossess it of its watery bullets, what makes you think I can’t swallow you up in a gulp? I am the cradle that rocked you to sleep when you were but a foetus: with one final push, I opened the door to your existence and made you a reality. I can as well shut that door this once and end your miserable existence! Is that the bitch in me or the angel speaking?

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror during ejaculation? What a sight! Faces contorted, muscles stiffened like one suffering from a bolt of paralysis; words tippling incoherently out of those twisted lips, breath coming in convulsive gasps; divorced of your pride and sensibility, a mad man’s glint in your eyes and like a goat that has just smelt its urine, a faint smile graced your lips…Is that the bitch or beast in you Mister? Never underestimate the power of a woman!

And to you possessors of my infinite wisdom, have you forgotten the creed of chastity and decency? Where lies your pride, when you have made me a commodity that can be purchased at any cost? Don’t I deserve your husband and soul mate? I am supposed to be your pride and not your shame! Those robes of innocence are meant to shroud your much coveted treasure from the prowling vulture. For where lies the masquerade’s pride but in its mask!

Sex. Is that all I am worth? C’mon sister, for how long will you give me out at the slightest mention of the word ‘marriage’ or ‘love’? Some men these days use love and marriage as an alibi or a justification for sex! What makes you think selling me out to every Dick and sons would guarantee your ultimate happiness and settlement in life? Where is Darlington, Dick-son, Dick-en, Oko-labi, Oko-juwonlo, Oko-dola, Brother Peter, Brother Paul, Alhaji Umaru, Aljhaji Ibrahim, Chief Ogadinma, Chief Nduka, Uncle Donatus to mention but a few? A few indeed!

Woman, where is your pride? This is not some cruise girl friend! Look inward and see how much I have been bruised by these brutes! A man who demands me as a criterion for walking down the aisle doesn’t truly deserve you! You should know better woman!

Daughters of Eve, why do you constantly chastise me with that malevolent object you call a dildo? Hmmm…this is definitely about sex, isn’t it? I have never ceased to wonder what would make a sister shove that parody for a penis down those private quartres! Is it a protest against centuries of peni(s)ficent or dickvolent slavery? Or a parody for the brutal tendencies of penile incursion? Could it be some sort of attack on male chauvinism? Whatever your reason, these marks are not tattooed for fancy; they are the relics of the pains inflicted on my fragile vagina walls by your uncivil sexual behaviour! Is it not an irony that I am bruised by that same instrument of pleasure which to me is but torture, while you cruise away in ignorance? What a woman you are!

What should I say of those moments when on the altar of shame, you desecrate my sacred sanctuary for your personal gains, selling me out as a commodity, to some sex starved slut and plucking my eggs, unripe from its stem? How many souls would you deny the joy of existence before you shut those sex puffed up thighs?

Woman, I am God’s gift to you! I am the wonder that makes child-bearing a miracle! I am that lost treasure men have always craved for, from generations past! I am your pride! Your duty is to see that I am given to that one true man after your heart. My worth lies in how well you can keep your legs shut until you find that special person! I deserve that special man – just that one special man!

And to you seekers of my vast treasures, when next you come across another vagina, treat her like your life depends on her because she could be your mother, your sister, your wife and maybe… your daughter!

Some respect is all I ask!

Yours truly,

Vagina.

Coming Home...

How time flies!

I can still recall that day, when I threw open the door to your heart and walked out, not looking back. I still hear your silent sobs as they trailed each step I took away from you and in the distance; I hear your still small voice calling out for me, calling out my name. I battled with the surging emotion that was beginning to build into a climax, leaving my eyes clouded with tears but somehow, I found the courage to walk away… blinded by my obsessions, your silent sobs I ignored!

You were my first love!

Like a tender plant you nurtured our love from childhood to maturity and I watched as our union blossomed with age and time. I can still remember that day when you look me in the eyes and said, “I know someday you would leave me but never forget that I will always be here waiting for you”. I never really took those words seriously because you were my definition of perfection and I could never imagine a life without you.

However, at a point in life, I started probing and asking questions. I got tired of the norm. I got tired of doing the same thing all over again! I wanted something new. I got tired of being told what to do and how to do it. I needed to express my individuality! At that point, I knew I was drifting away from you but I couldn’t help it because it was what I wanted! Something in me longs to be free - to be me. Thus began my quest for an existence outside the norm.

Seven years down this road and my regret lingers still! Seven years of doing it my way and living the life I have always wanted to live. Seven years of vanity, a greater part of which is spent in trying to be better but not getting any better than I am. Seven years of pains and misery, though not without its lessons, learnt in the most cruel manner – experience. For what pleasure lies in that ancient bottled death-trap consumed by many, making a fool of the wisest of counsel or the making of a chimney out of a man? Is it those fleeting high moments of orgasm or those transitory tingling of ejaculation which leaves us drained, limb, exhausted and lesser than a man? Tell me, do they all last forever? What last forever?

I am done trying to do it on my own! How could I have thought I could do it without you? I have been out there where the frost bites so hard at night and life does not get any warm. I have been there where the sun burns fiercely at dawn and nothing can shed one from the scorching sun! But in you, I have found life’s long lost harmony; in you I found balance. As I trail these almost fading tracks back home, I know you would be waiting for me at the gate but one thing I ask from your Lord, “don’t ever let me leave your presence again”.

In the name of Love and Marriage!

What is happening to the profession of undying love? Why are there so many broken and wounded hearts lying on this ancient path, the path to cupid’s abode? I stumbled on a post recently by Parakeet titled “The woes of a single girl” and one by Jayjazzy titled “On the verge of a break” and I can’t stop pondering on the sudden transition from a once sublime and sacred institution as unconditional love to a rather ludicrous and farcical glorification of lust!

The things we do in the name of love…

As much as I would frown at such a show of shame and a display of ignorance of the fundamentals of that sacred union called marriage by some men, either in the name of chemistry or love at first sight, I still think to a great extent, women are their problems!

Marriage is no doubt an admirable enterprise but when such sacred oath is taken without the benefit of the intellect; mostly due to pressure from whatever quarters, it becomes a show of shame rather than a celebration of boundless love!

At some point in the life of most single women, they resign to fate and the available becomes preferable! They make a life time decision with someone who most likely doesn’t cut their idea of a life time partner, forgetting that their happiness is worth the wait!

The issue of men taking advantage of single ladies either on the internet networking/dating sites or in a real life situation simply suggests the culpability of most single ladies whose desperation sometimes seem to becloud their sense of good judgement. Though some might be smart enough to detect such antics but several have lost their will to love and life as a result of the pains of their past mistakes and hurt.

You can’t litter the floor with granules of sugar and not be invaded by soldier ants! Somehow, I guess this truth seems to evade the consciousness of most single ladies that they probably out of desperation to find a life partner or get hooked-up, send an unconscious signal which some desperate men capitalizes on, hence making them vulnerable to the antics of such shallow minded men!

As a result, men now sell the idea of marriage even at first meeting knowing fully well that it is the brand every single woman wants to be identified with. But beyond those sugar-coated words and sweet promises, there lies deceit and emptiness! They only get to realize this when the deed has been done and they are the worse for it! Marriage is not the ultimate; your happiness should take first place priority!

Knowing where to draw the line between friendship and intimate relationship is of great importance and should be one of the skills a single lady should possess. Times are hard and true love is hard to find. If you don’t want to end up being a trash where every man dumps his ‘thing’ in the name of love and marriage, then you have to start looking inward and stop giving the impression that you are desperate or under pressure! True love is worth the waiting!

Women are the pride of our world! Lets keep this dream alive!

Saint or Sinners?

I am not in my element at the moment. I am trying to get my life together. Things are happening rather too fast or maybe I seem to be the one behind. I have got a lot of things going on in my life at the moment...but, I will leave that for another day.

To some good news, WE (You and I...lol) made it to the next round of the blogvile idol 2008 contest! I guess if we keep it at this pace, we might get to the final and even if we don't, well we have made a statement already!

I posted this sometimes in february but now, I feel the urge to reawaken our consciousness to the evils that men do in the name of love. The evils that no longer live after them but has come to settle with them! What if the unborn child speaks? What would he say of you? what whould she say to you?


I will die in thirty minutes! My fate has been determined by the powers that be. I have been sentenced to death in the most horrible manner! I am to be tortured and yanked limbs apart while still alive! My voiceless cries would not stop the executioner whose expertise in the art of murder of the most cruel nature has earned him respect and recognition among the female folks who constitute the bulk of his customers. I thought mothers are usually moved by the tears of their children but mine has lost every sense of motherhood, as she connived with my father to sign my death warrant! I could hardly believe my eyes as she led me amidst my voiceless protest and streams of tears to the altar to be sacrificed! Innocent me! Guiltless me! Helpless me! Why should I be sacrificed for the inordinate sexual urges of my parents? Why should I be the one to pay the price for their negligence? Why should my life be the ransom? Why…?

Amidst the tears, I fought for survival. The ones I trusted the most have turned their backs on me. I am left alone to suffer such horrific death in the hands of the merciless executioner whose glove clothed hands could not shroud the stains of blood and lives he had taken over the years. I grew weaker every passing moment as I watched my mother surrender her life on the execution altar. She lay facing the sky, with legs wide open and a face laced with fear. Tears trickled down my eyes, for I realized that her fear was more for her survival than for my innocent life, which would soon be snuffed!

Helplessly, I watched as the executioner plunged his instrument into mother’s uterus; intended to hold the walls of the uterus apart, so he could watch with pleasure as I am tortured to death. Mother groaned as he defiled the sanctity of her vagina. Satisfied with his feat, the executioner launched his death instrument, which he flaunted for a while, sending cold shivers running through my fragile spine. This time, I saw a glow in his masked eyes. It seemed my pains ignite his pleasure!

I battled hopelessly as the torture instrument approached. The bulging walls of the uterus quivers upon detecting the presence of an alien object. I struggled in vain to move away from the approaching doom but death’s mournful knell trailed all my actions. At this instance, just like every child in the face of a helpless situation, I listened to my instinct to turn to my mother for support but she turned deaf ears to my plaintive cries. My heavy heart sags under the pressure of rejection as it became apparent that no one wants me alive. Brimming with this realization, I gave in to the executioner’s lustful lures as I could not hide from his treacherous instrument which seems prepared to tear my frail limbs apart.

I have no past and the future seemed oblivious. I might have relished in the memories of a past that once was mine but emptiness stared at me in the face, except for loneliness and rejection, which had been the hallmark of my few weeks’ existence. As the executioner’s instrument tore into my flesh, I slipped into a state of coma as I recalled my father’s voice venting his anger on my mother, at the news of my existence. My traumatized mother fell on her knees pleading for my father’s understanding. He hesitated a while and curdled her in his arms as she asked,

“What are we going to do? My parents will skin me alive if they ever get to find out that I am pregnant! Please, help me!”

She sobbed uncontrollably as my father patted her on the back saying,

“We would have to get rid of it! That is the only way out and we have to do it as soon as possible”

Father’s face wore no sign of remorse. He exudes such confidence, as would one who is used to the ritual. I waited in futile for mother’s defence against such an inhuman act but she made no comment. Rather, she fastened her grip around father’s neck in approval. Thus, the decision to terminate my life was reached by my parents and I had to die for their sins!I felt a sharp pain piercing through my heart and with one last voice I cried, “please, let me live!” My pleas fell on deaf ears as the murderous instrument found its way into my heart. In that instant, it cleaved my heart in twain! The little flame of life that remained in my wretched soul was snuffed out permanently amidst the watchful eyes of my mother who sighed in contentment. No doubt, my death was her pride!

As my innocent soul ascended into heaven, with tear-filled eyes and a broken heart, I took one last look on earth and I was shocked to see that behind the unmasked executioner was my father!

Never Far Away...

The drum rolls once again as is our custom, to usher in some noble events. But in this instance, it is the drum for the second session of the blogsville idol 2008 and I am so excited that I made the list of contestants that sang their way through to the next session. I am not quick to forget that I couldn't have come this far without your support so I dedicate this to everyone who voted for me and also to my fellow contestants Ibiluv, Fresh & Fab, Archiwiz, Lightly and Unbiased who have shown great courage and resilience, in spite their brief outing.

At the moment...

I am trying so hard to get this voice off my head but the more I try, the more my heart seems to connects with the lyrics from that classical African piece playing in the background. What is never far away? Why does it seem so hard to put away some memories? Is it true that there are some memories that elude time and can't be subjected to the twist and histrionics of that ancient healer fondly called time? Is it true that love can touch us one time and last for a life time? is it true that some people come into our lives so briefly that even after they are gone, we live never to forget that angelic voice, touch and warmth that reminds us only, of the innocence of Eden? What is this lone quest all about?




Yesterday...


We were so young and full of life..but in my innocent heart, I could tell that what we share was rare! There was never a me without you! I could recall in awe times in our prime, when sitting in the class, the teacher would scold you for getting an answer wrong and I would be on my feet staring so hard at her, with my fist tightened into a ball, ready to strike! Where in the world did I get that courage?I can't tell but in the midst of my friends, I am usually the weakling. For you, I became the hero!

I recall with nostalgia, how we would sit together at night, gazing at the stars and making endless promises. In my timid heart, I knew that I would give everything to be with you. And then, when we part at nights, I could hardly sleep out of excitement, wishing that daylight would erode the thick darkness of the nights and I can be with my beloved again!




As we grew, so blossomed our love! And then suddenly you disappeared...




It was like a dream! I noticed the sudden calmness that now welcomes my presence each time I come asking for you. Your parents too seem to have suddenly disappeared! I asked everyone but it appears no one knows the whereabouts of your family because every quest brings a different tale.


You missed classes and then I started getting so apprehensive! People talked about you in whispers and whenever I get so close, they hush the conversation. I was dying inside!



And then, four weeks later, the teacher came into the class with her eyes all red and swollen with tears. I wished in my heart that you were here to see the hard hearted Mrs T, go so soft and limb in tears. Still in deep thoughts, her words broke into my thoughts, jerking me back to reality...

"We lost Angel four weeks ago...She died of cancer!"


And that was all I knew...


Today...

It's been fourteen (14) years down the road and I am yet to believe that she is gone. She lies dead and buried in the dry and parched earth, but in my heart, she lives forever!

"wherever I go

wherever you are

Baby, you are never far away

You're always on my mind..."

This fictional work is dedicated to everyone who has lost a loved one...

Flashes From Yesterday...

I did my first song recording for blogsville idol 2008 today...

I crumble afterwards like a pack of cards on my bed, trying to escape to that world where the mind ceases to wander and the heart ancient cadence becomes like the tender lullaby, tippling from mother's soothing vocal chord, whose rhythm has become my definition of serenity.

I battled to halt the heart mindless soliloquies, for in such moments of quietude, the mind becomes disentangled from the trappings of life and is ferried on the fluffy wings of the unseen chariot of slumber. However, like a beehive, endless thoughts swarm around my head; inspired by the music constantly playing in my heart...

the lyrics shot into my consciousness like an arrow from Cupid's bow. And like a spell from Harry Potter's wand, yesterday stood right before me! But, the music played on...

"How do I say goodbye to what we had?

The good times that made us laugh

outweigh the bad..."

Mixed emotions from my past reeled backward like a movie in an incoherent manner. Memories of days gone by, faces and phases of life - scenes from my past coming to life! I relish in the innocence of my childhood. A childhood that reminds me of of the true worth of making sacrifices and to love unconditional in the midst of want, pains, hunger and cold. Yet, the song played on...

"I thought we would get to see forever

But forever's gone away..."

That innocence that makes childhood a bliss has gradually drifted away, absorbed in the current of life; withering like a tender plant whose root has lost its grip. But here I am, lost in the frenzy of nostalgia, on this lone path called life. And once again, the song echoes...

"I don't know where this road

is going to lead

All I know is where we have been

And what we have been through..."

I frown at the seeming endless attack on yesterday by some greedy motivational preachers who feed on the meagre earnings of the poor whose search for hope have made them vulnerable to the antics of such wolfs, parading as sheep! "Yesterday is dead!" "Yesterday is meaningless to your destiny!" "Yesterday is a waste!" They speak their fears - their past. But they have forgotten that our interpretation of today is subject to the vagaries of individual experience with the past - yesterday. For how do we learn to appreciate today, if we forget the memories of yesterday? If we live all day for tomorrow, who knows if tomorrow may never come...who knows! And the song played again...

"If we get to see tomorrow

I hope it is worth the wait..."

The beauty and innocence of childhood, the inexplicable and inextricable bond among family members, the joy of going through pains and hunger together, the numerous quibbles among friends, the hurt and betrayals, those elusive moments that take our breath away and those moments that witnessed our watery pains, the enlightenment of education and life's greatest lessons learnt in chalk-less classrooms! Above all, the joy of of finding a soul mate and miracle of childbirth...And the music played one last time...

"I'll take with me the memories

To be my sunshine after the rain

It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday..."

What does yesterday mean to you?

Listen to the song "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday" By BoyZ II men

Get on the move campaign III: Always Pad

This is the final ad in the 'Get on the move campaign' for the Always brand. It has been a very interesting ride, with all the brain storming sessions and all the beautiful comments to grace it. I must appreciate you all for your comments and suggestions.

On a lighter note, I am really thinking about this Blogville idol 2008 contest and I think I would love to join in the contest! I am not much of a good singer but I love to sing! I am going to do this for my love for music and I hope you guys would wish me luck!


I am really getting so weary about this Youth Service year and I can't wait for it to be over. The weather here in the North has been so unbearable and to the extreme. When it rains, it appears as if the heavens would crumble to the earth and when the sun comes up, you would wish the rain hasn't stopped! What a world of antithesis!


I am working on a post on Branding with emphasis on the Nigerian Banking Industry. I would be exploring their brand achetypes with a view to suggesting ways to building a stronger brand which can deliver on its brand promise as well as take customers through the brand experience. I should have this published next week.


In the mean time, I would appreciate your criticism, comments and suggestions on this ad!









A period
shouldn't end
your statement




Get on the move with













Always logo from P&G website

'Get on the move' campaign II (Always Pad)

This copywriting thing isn't as easy as I thought it was. At the point when you are thinking you have really cracked the brief then, the sledge hammer comes down on your creative and makes a nonsense of it! Lol! One just have to keep on learning and moving because it takes that extra squeeze to get the creative juice out sometimes. So go on baby, squeeze me! Lol!

It is on this note I would want to appreciate everyone who dropped a comment and suggestion on my last Always pad campaign. I noticed that most of the comments and suggestions were based on the suitablility of the graphics. As much as I am not a graphic person but an aspiring copywriter cum brand strategist, I try not to give a hint of the product from my graphics like we have in the mainstream ad concepts (I realise I still have to keep it simple). This is why most of my graphics don't really have a direct relationship with the product but such relationship exist at the inferential level. The copy explains that better...
'Your ON days shouldn't be your OFF days! Get on the MOVE with always' Just trying to play on the colours of the traffic light!

Well, based on popular demand, I have decided to work on my graphics and lets see how much this print ad can sell our product-always.

It is still the same campaign. Although, I have made some changes on my graphic concept but the copy might read differently but it means the same! So what's your take on this???












Your FLOW days
shouldn't be your SLOW days!



Get on the MOVE with













Always logo from P&G website

'Get on the move campaign' Always pad!

To all those who have helped in getting this far with their comments, observations and honest criticisms on the 'use a condom campaign', I would like to say a BIG THANK YOU!
I hope that is big enough!

So much about the men and the need to use a condom. I think it's time we talked about women!Lets talk about sanitary towels...

While I was at Orange Academy, my group was charged with the responsibility of coming up with a Brand/creative strategy on 'Always sanitary pad' one of the products of Procter and Gamble (P&G)! We had to come up with a brand strategy which would ultmately lead to the creative. We carried out a survey to identify the motivation for the use of always sanitary pad among Nigerian women at the 'moment' and we had a tie between safety/security and self esteem.
Looking at Brand quadrants, safety and security falls under quadrant 1, while love and self esteem constitute quadrant 4. Since ALWAYS as a brand is positioned in quadrant 1 (safety and security) as reflected in most of their ads, we decided to reposition the brand by moving it from Q1 to Q4(Self esteem) using the approach-approach method. The mainstream ALWAYS brand promises 'protection' but we changed ours to 'confidence', since we have repositioned the brand and this form the basis for our creative.

We finally came up with a print ad that reads 'Wet But Confident' with a picture of a diva who is drenched, revealing her curves and giving it a sexual appeal, yet she is still going about her entertaining business in style , exuding much confidence! We adopted the same copy for other print ads under this campaign, only that the character changes on each occasion but it must reflect an active woman who is unusually wet, yet going about her business with confidence!

I decided to take a cue from that and I came up with this print ad. I will call this the 'get on the move campaign'.

Lets see what you think about this...







Your ON days
shouldn't be your OFF days!




Get on the MOVE with...

Always logo from P&G website

'Use a Condom' campaign III

This is going to be the last ad on this particular campaign. I would have to move to another brand and I would let you know what brand that would be soon.

I have decided to take a different dimension in designing an Ad concept for the 'use a condom campaign'. I want to assume that the Nigerian Government conducted a research which gave a startling revelation that form the basis of my consumer insight ( A statement which portrays the consumer in conflict and the brand in resolution)...' sexually active Nigerian men do not use a condom during sexual intercourse because they are apprehensive about the size of their genitals'... (Remember this is just an ASSUMPTION!!!).
Armed with this fact, I have to design an Ad concept that would identify with the fear and phobia of my consumers (A shadow brand would fit perfectly into the picture) as well as correct all misconceptions.

Not forgetting, I also have to take them through the experience! Hmmm...How do I crack this brief???

Well, I finally came up with this! Lets see what you have to say...









What's your size?


Condom
condones
any!


use a condom always...

'Use a condom' campaign II

I would like to appreciate everyone who dropped a comment on my previous post (Trying my hands on copywriting). I am trying to explore other possible ideas on this social awareness campaign but in the meantime, I would like to know what your impression is about this ad. It is a print ad as well, encouraging the use of condom.

STOP!!!



Don thrust,
Even if you trust!


Use a condom always...












Pix from UltraDisk™

Gosh...Just got Tagged!

I thought I had escape this tagging thing but unfortunately, I was wrong! I have just been tagged! I just wish this cup would pass over me. I can imagine my Mom saying, 'Stop sulking boy, get on your feet and let it out'. Well that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to let it out!

Lets go over the rules again(Gosh...I hate rules!).

1. link the person(s) who tagged you… Tairebabs

2. Mention the rules on your blog

3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours...

4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them…

5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged...

The Quirks..

If you are thinking of kidnapping me then I guess your best bet is to use a baby as a bait! I am a baby freak! Their soul searching stare, punctuated with radiant smiles at intervals and those soft hands that are always searching, trying to have a firm grip at anything would not cease to amaze me! I see life the way it should be lived and my imperfections are revealed underneath those probing but innocent eyes!Wow, can't wait to have mine! Babies are the most wonderful creatures of God!

As much as I love eating, I find it so embarassing each time I am asked what my favourite food is, because I DON HAVE ANY! I have tried without much success to make one particular food my favourite but each time I think it is Pounded yam with Egusi soup and I am served Rice and plantain, I get confused about which I prefer the most (Did I hear you say OLIVER TWIST? Lol). The thing is I like any good food, as long as it is well prepared!

I live with the fear that someday my Parents are going to tell me that they are not my real parents! I know this is a kind of weird but I have been leaving with this fear since childhood and I guess the reason is that my secondary(high) school is very close to an orphange home and the children from this Orphanage home constitute the bulk of the students in my school. I have listened to several of their stories about how they realised that the people they call their parents were not afteral their real parents and i just keep thinking it is going to happen to me too someday...But it better not cos I love my Parents so much!

I hate my first name!!! I don't know what my Parents were thinking about when they gave me that name! I wish I could talk as a baby, during my naming ceremony I would have halted the Pastor or Babalawo (lol) presiding over the ceremony at the mention of my first name! I guess that would have caused an uproar and I might have been termed a 'special child' lol. You know Africans have a way of mystifying things they don't have explanations for. Well, I use my middle name (Damilola, a.k.a Dammy) most of the time. But I can't discard my first name because it is on most of my documents! Poor kingsley...WHAT??? Sorry, I meant Dammy...lol!

If you want to keep me awake all night, then put the lights on. I hate the light. I love to sleep in the dark. I love it quiet, warm and dark. It helps settle my wandering thoughts and chart a course for my imagination...hmmm, I love the dark!

Finally, I am a wreck when it comes to cooking! if I don't get it burnt, it would be so watery! I have tried so hard to impress my friends but each time I get into the kitchen, something happens to the food. Hey, but I can boil water. Lol!

The end.....Watch out for part 2. COMING SOON! Grab your copy now! lol....Did I hear you say this is not some scripts from Nollywood? lol

Alright, I have done my part, now it is your turn! Hmmm... I tag Lilian, Beyond, kemikalreactions, Zara, Pri, and macadamiathenut.

Why Does Love Hurt?

I tried to hold back the cloth of tears that has formed already in my damp eyes but hardly had I turned away from her when fresh balls of tears began to cascade freely down my eyes like a waterfall. I have often heard my father say that it is unmanly to shed tears but I have since realised that it is therapeutic. Every man has a child in him who sometimes takes over his emotion. As it were, the child in me who could not be suppressed in moments as this suddenly took over my emotions and I had to let those prisoned pains out as torrents of rain. For beyond the teachings of religion and philosophy, I have suddenly realised that there is more to life than books can teach. Life presents a whole lot of experience which cannot be taught enough in volumes of books or walls of classrooms. It also leaves us with a lot of questions to ponder.

No sooner had I walked some distance away from her when I was arrested by the greatest police of modernisation,REALITY! I stood transfixed to a spot within the international airport departure lounge with balls of tears forming a ring on my brow. I turned to take one final look at my love but she was gone!

Gripped with this realisation, I felt like a child tearing away from the mother for the very first time. I looked around to be sure no one was watching but was disappointed to find several heads turned towards my direction. They feasted their burning eyes on me from different angles waiting for that moment of catharsis - the moment when pains are released as torrents of rains, cascading down the slope of a gloomy eye and the hollows of a heavy heart. Realising this, I quickly put my emotions to check and headed straight for the exit as fresh tears began to form a cloud around my soggy eyes.

I waved down a taxi and sank at the back seat like a bag of rice, with endless thoughts swarming like bees in my head. Why does love hurt this much? How could I face the sombre music of loneliness when she has showned me the tranquility that true and unadulterated love commands? How do I start learning to do alone those things that we used to do together? How can I live with the naked reality that I am now alone and my lover is gone? Why does love hurt this much?

So many of us have found ourselves in a position where we have had to ask why. For some of us, it could be a temporary separation imposed by long distance relationship or other possible human or psychological factors and for others, it could be a permanent separation which can either be as a result of a broken relationship or death. Whichever way one looks at it, separation either temporary or permanent does not always go down well with the major players who are usually the most affected. Suffice to say that the enterprise of love justifies the age-long saying, “there is no gain without pain.” For some, love comes with gains in abundance and for others, the pains last longer than those elusive moments of pleasure.

However, there is hardly any love enterprise that does not have its dark clouds, notwithstanding the silver linning. Such dark clouds are reflected in the pains, hurts, self-denials and sacrifices we have made in the past which to a large extent are the emblems of our commitment to such a noble cause as love. The realisation that such sacrifices and self-denials have only been a waste of time and resources and could have been invested in a more worthy enterprise is the major source of the emotional trauma that characterises a typical break up. Feelings of insecurity in long distant relationships are product of constantly dwelling on the pains and difficulties of the past, which in most cases, blurs the individuals from seeing the gains and the possibility of of a better tomorrow. To live with the mind-set that love hurts but the gains are more than the pains is noble, hence to love someone truly is a noble act and to be loved sincerely is a rare privilege. This is why many go through life searching for true love but only a few truly finds it.

The business of love is transacted in a very sensitive quatre –the heart. The individuals are usually not strange to the clime as they must have trod this path before. However, rather than transact such sensitive business with an open heart and with the benefit of the intellect, they would rather disengage the intellect at such crucial moments and allow the heart undertake such a delicate task with all its vulnerability hence, the reason most relationship do not always work! Let the heart love but let the head lead. For it is wisdom to balance your emotions with logic.

At this point, my phone rang and I was jolted back to reality. The comforting voice of my mother could be heard from the other end of the line.
“Son are you alright? You don’t sound like you. Is there something you would want to share with me my dear?” She queried in her usual motherly manner.
I told her I was alright but deep down, I know that it would take bridging the distance between my lover and I, for me to be happy again. Something about mothers, they can always feel the pains of their children from afar. Call it motherly instinct or what you will but, mothers are emotional attached to their children and somehow they can feel their pains. Now I have an issue at hand! How am I going to put up a happy face so as not to trouble my mother’s emotion when my heart hurts with the pain of being separated from the woman I truly love? It appears I have finally gotten myself into an emotional fix – the love of a mother and that of a wife!

I had my eyes fixed on her picture when fatigue took its toll on me and I ascended gradually into the other phase of man’s existence – a temporary state of rest! Maybe, I might find an isle to nest. But wait a minuite! Will this pain ever cease to be when the morning comes? Will I find her here in the morning? Will I?

Tears of the Unborn!

I will die in thirty minutes! My fate has been determined by the powers that be. I have been sentenced to death in the most horrible manner! I am to be tortured and yanked limbs apart while still alive! My voiceless cries would not stop the executioner whose expertise in the art of murder of the most cruel nature has earned him respect and recognition among the female folks who constitute the bulk of his customers. I thought mothers are usually moved by the tears of their children but mine has lost every sense of motherhood, as she connived with my father to sign my death warrant! I could hardly believe my eyes as she led me amidst my voiceless protest and streams of tears to the altar to be sacrificed! Innocent me! Guiltless me! Helpless me! Why should I be sacrificed for the inordinate sexual urges of my parents? Why should I be the one to pay the price for their negligence? Why should my life be the ransom? Why…?

Amidst the tears, I fought for survival. The ones I trusted the most have turned their backs on me. I am left alone to suffer such horrific death in the hands of the merciless executioner whose glove clothed hands could not shroud the stains of blood and lives he had taken over the years. I grew weaker every passing moment as I watched my mother surrender her life on the execution altar. She lay facing the sky, with legs wide open and a face laced with fear. Tears trickled down my eyes, for I realized that her fear was more for her survival than for my innocent life, which would soon be snuffed!

Helplessly, I watched as the executioner plunged his instrument into mother’s uterus; intended to hold the walls of the uterus apart, so he could watch with pleasure as I am tortured to death. Mother groaned as he defiled the sanctity of her vagina. Satisfied with his feat, the executioner launched his death instrument, which he flaunted for a while, sending cold shivers running through my fragile spine. This time, I saw a glow in his masked eyes. It seemed my pains ignite his pleasure!

I battled hopelessly as the torture instrument approached. The bulging walls of the uterus quivers upon detecting the presence of an alien object. I struggled in vain to move away from the approaching doom but death’s mournful knell trailed all my actions. At this instance, just like every child in the face of a helpless situation, I listened to my instinct to turn to my mother for support but she turned deaf ears to my plaintive cries. My heavy heart sags under the pressure of rejection as it became apparent that no one wants me alive. Brimming with this realization, I gave in to the executioner’s lustful lures as I could not hide from his treacherous instrument which seems prepared to tear my frail limbs apart.

I have no past and the future seemed oblivious. I might have relished in the memories of a past that once was mine but emptiness stared at me in the face, except for loneliness and rejection, which had been the hallmark of my few weeks’ existence. As the executioner’s instrument tore into my flesh, I slipped into a state of coma as I recalled my father’s voice venting his anger on my mother, at the news of my existence. My traumatized mother fell on her knees pleading for my father’s understanding. He hesitated a while and curdled her in his arms as she asked,

“What are we going to do? My parents will skin me alive if they ever get to find out that I am pregnant! Please, help me!”

She sobbed uncontrollably as my father patted her on the back saying,

“We would have to get rid of it! That is the only way out and we have to do it as soon as possible”

Father’s face wore no sign of remorse. He exudes such confidence, as would one who is used to the ritual. I waited in futile for mother’s defence against such an inhuman act but she made no comment. Rather, she fastened her grip around father’s neck in approval. Thus, the decision to terminate my life was reached by my parents and I had to die for their sins!

I felt a sharp pain piercing through my heart and with one last voice I cried, “please, let me live!” My pleas fell on deaf ears as the murderous instrument found its way into my heart. In that instant, it cleaved my heart in twain! The little flame of life that remained in my wretched soul was snuffed out permanently amidst the watchful eyes of my mother who sighed in contentment. No doubt, my death was her pride!

As my innocent soul ascended into heaven, with tear-filled eyes and a broken heart, I took one last look on earth and I was shocked to see that behind the unmasked executioner was my father!



********************************************************************************
Here is a poem I wrote for the UNBORN CHILD! It could have been you! Stop the death sentence on the unborn child!

To serve our father land

Whenever the thought of serving my country crosses my mind, I often feel a fresh wave of fear creeping slowly into my soul. One would wonder why the thought of service to ones country would be accompanied by fear. For me, I have never nursed the idea of ever living outside my comfort and the frightening stories we hear from our predecessors of their experiences in camp, mostly outside their usual geographical comfort, is enough to make any sane person shudder in fright.
However, it is a task that must be undertaken by every Nigerian graduate after the conclusion of their first degree programme in any recognized tertiary institution of their choice. The overall aim of the NYSC scheme is to encourage cultural and ethnic integration among the different ethnic groups in the country as well as foster unity in spite our diversities. This is achieved by exposing corp members to the aesthetics in the cultural practices of the people in their respective states of deployment. The scheme is also aimed at correcting misconceptions about the traditional practices of the people by giving the corp members the opportunity of not just being an observer but an active participant.
A day prior to the reception of my posting letter, a friend of mine, realising my apprehensions, made some silly remarks about my posting. He told me that he had seen my posting letter and that I have been posted to Zamfara state! I found myself refuting the statement, calling on all the host of heaven to intercede on my behalf. But little did I know that either by error or some sort of clairvoyance or divination, my friend was right! Zamfara, it was!
I can still remember the series of lectures I received from friends and loved ones on the eve of my departure. A lot of those lectures bother on maintaining self dignity and self restrain as Zamfara state is noted for its strict adherence to the Sharia law which emphasizes capital punishment on defaulters. One of such issues that are not treated lightly is the sin of adultery, in which case the man’s limb is amputated while the woman is stoned to death. I left home with promises to be of best behaviour and embarked on a fifteen hour journey to the NYSC temporary orientation camp, Tsafe local Government in Zamfara state. Thus, I began my journey into an entirely different world! A world of antithesis, where the frost bite so deep at night and the sun burns like fire at dawn!
The journey to Zamfara state is the farthest I have ever gone from home and in the most uncomfortable sitting position. I was sandwiched between a cluster of men; some old, some young, all dressed in the usual Hausa/Fulani kaftan (a long and flowing gown, touching the ankles), steaming with dust and a nauseating smell of native perfume, filled the air. Since I was in a hurry to meet up with the deadline for reporting on camp, I had no choice but to stack myself alongside these rare breed of humans in a J5 bus, which appears to be the last bus plying that route for the day. The sitting arrangement was done in such a way that we had to sit facing one another, like in a face me, I face you living condition. The chairs were naked! No foam or leather covered their nudity and they protested in their own little way by biting so hard on our butt!
There was no space to stretch our legs either, as the little room that should have served that purpose now occupies our bags and baggage, which in turn has been converted into chairs for about four children whose mother couldn’t afford to pay their fare. I would have objected to this sitting arrangement if only I knew how far we would have to go before we get to our destination and what would happen thereafter. But like a true African who had been groomed in the art of hospitality to the point of addiction, and as a youngster, burning with the zeal to explore and discover a new world, I looked beyond my present chains, hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel.
The journey continued in spite of the jostling and shoving around we experienced, a product of the recklessness of the driver who complained bitterly dashing out curses with heavy breath at the dilapidated state of such a major road. Some five hours into the journey, I was shoved back to reality as I had dozed off by a strange sound coming from the row directly opposite me and everyone seemed to be trying to get their belongings out of the way. In that instant, I felt something warm on my leg, only then did I realize that the man sitting directly opposite me had decided to baptize me and some other occupant of the bus with a sweltering marshy substance from his bowels. He must have experienced some sort of uneasiness caused by the heat in the vehicle or the fumes of fuel. The nasty smell that pervaded the whole place made me want to throw-up. Most pathetic is the fact that, he practically threw up on one of the children who slept innocently in spite the shouting and curses showered on the man by the child’s mother. It was really an appalling sight!
I quickly cleaned up the mess with a tissue paper I got from the mother of the unfortunate child and wondered how long we would have to be in that frustrating state. But hardly had the mother finished cleaning her child when another passenger, on the same row, taking cue from the other man, started the same ritual! But this time, he was not caught unawares as he took the messy bowel content in a black cellophane bag he already had with him which was probably to serve some other purpose. We were left with no choice but to accept our fate and listen in voiceless protest to the seemingly endless groaning of his bowels as he unleashed its content! In protest, my salivary gland began a mass production of saliva! I kept salivating as I could not put away the mental picture of the ugly sights I had witnessed!
I was still salivating till I let myself loosed in the warm embrace of the frosty night, drifting in drowsiness; I longed for the soothing melody of the night but emptiness and thick darkness forms an invisible wall in my heart which was constantly being threatened by the alien armies of the frost infested night. Only the noise from the engine of the rickety bus could be heard in the distance as it breaks through the darkness. Defying our common enemy – the cold!


Watch out for the remaining story in Orientation Camp: The Drama and Intrigues!

DIARY OF A CORPER IN ZAMFARA STATE

I thought it wise to put into writing my experiences so far in Zamfara state as this would help keep the memories alive as well as serve as a veritable exposition for other Corp members who would be deployed in future to serve the country in Zamfara state.
I have decided to present this narrative under the following subheadings:
(1) To serve our Father land
(2) Orientation Camp: The Drama and Intrigues!

I would appreciate comments from my readers!

A tribute to Bola Akinwunmi

It is with a heavy heart that I received the news of the death of one of my University classmate, Bola Akinwunmi who died in a car accident on the 26th of December , 2007.
Most painful is the fact that Bola has just tied the nuptial chord with her childhood sweeheart on the 11th of November 2007. It is still like a dream to think that Bola is gone just like that! I can still picture her petite but well rounded frame as she walks along the Departmental balcony with her usual characteristical smile, playing lightly on her lips. She carries herself with such grace, like one who has learnt the ways of the angels, touching lives with her warm smiles and generous attitude.
But she is gone and never would the faintest smile adorn her spotless face! Never would she be opportuned to walk this path of life again, for here is where the journey ends. The thought of life ending and the realisation that the deceased had plans and dreams bottled up inside of her, waiting for that great moment of realisation but all of which have evaporated into the thin air makes life nothing but an executioner waiting for that moment of conviction to unleash that deadly blow! All of those beautiful dreams, buried inside of her, waiting for tomorrow, have been cut short and never would see the light of the day!
I sit here wondering why mother earth would nourish us with the fertile flesh of our dear loved ones until we are ripe and fattened and then pluck us away from life's stem to feed the dry parched earth! Why should mortals be declared a feast for famished worms to feast on? Why?
But rest Bola! Let your soul savour the bliss of a heavenly abode, away from the hostility and prejudice of the human world! Away from a world of pains and labour; let your wandering soul find solace. Savour the bliss of eternity among your kinds - the angels with whom you have found a place of rest and relay our many plights to the Creator to whom your soul has returned. For maybe, he might for your sake ease our pains and wipe this scourging tears!
Adieu Bola!