“WOMAN! part ௨ ( No such thing as marital rape in Nigeria!!”)

Top of the day!! So yesterday I published an article written by Chimamanda on this topic and it seems as if I was misunderstood. I have gone back to give a more detailed view of my thoughts on her write up.Please note that Mena is not a feminist oh, heck I dont even know what the concept really mean if I am honest. If I was strictly one, why would I publish blogs that practically bashes women, like this for a start? Nah I am interested in all topics and it just so happens that yesterday (13th Dec) and todays topic happen to be centered on male chauvinism. honest.


Na hin another opportunity to expantiate on the topic presented itself. What happened was that, on facebook, a friend of mine added me to a closed group. I later noticed that it was a group dominated by Nigerians and it was open to any kind of topic, from sexual explicit types to lighthearted jokes. Soon enough the female bashing topics began. "Why do women jazz men" "Why are women gold diggers" and topics of that nature. One particular topic and its responses stood out to me, and I have copied a little bit of it in here (replacing the original names of course)

Author: Topic: She got out of bed at 5am to get breakfast ready and by 7am she rushed out of the house, stopped to drop the kids off at school. She had a very hectic day at work. Stopped to pick the kids at the babysitters at 7pm, rushed home to get dinner started, helping the kids with their homework in between. Dinner's ready & served at 8pm, By the time everything's cleaned, put away and children tucked into bed, it's 10pm about time hubby gets home. She serves him his dinner, and by the time she's done cleaning up, she was ready to drop. She was hoping to retire early, but hubby had other plans in mind. "Darling, please I'm very tired tonight"... "what do u mean u r tired? u must b joking"... The argument went on for a coupla mins and hubby eventually forcefully had his way........

QUESTION:a) Does an individual have a right to refuse sex in a marriage?
b) What do u think of spousal/marital rape?
Author:spousal rape - non-consensual sex in which the perpetrator is the victim's spouse.....

Mary (A): @topic: Yes, one has a right to refuse sex in a marriage, and (B) Yes, there's such thing as a spousal rape, it is a crime punishable by a jail term.

John: @topic: Sex is a mutual thing, if she is tired, appreciate and understand that she is tired, get a rain check, it's better when both parties are active participant.

James: @topic: She better learn to do all that and more, and still shag her husband silly if he asks for it...wetin be the big deal sef..

Matt: @topic: Not nice @ all. If she don taya, she don taya be that. Me i go wait for @ least 1hour make she rest first. If after that, she no wan do............I go BEG am. If d agro really cash me....:). Odawiz na 'sai gobe' be dat. *sai gobe is hausa for 'till tomorrow.....:)* *wink*

Victor: @topic: To be candid, it's bitter but the truth is individual has no right to refuse sex in marriage, if per adventure something like this siuation above arises, i believe there's a way she can present her case to her husband the he will fully understand her.

Lisa @Victor - a way 2 present her case???? What ye ye case???? Even GOD sef give us d free will 2 do as we please.....how much more mortals!!!!!!!1

Victor @Lisa this is a sensitive issues that had destroyed a lots of marriages & i believe we need to learn from each other, i might not be right but according to my believe, individual have no right to refuse sex & i believe any man that forcefully have sex with his wife is not normal, fine we can call it rape simply because we are in Western World but in 3rd World Countries where women has less or little right of their own

Lisa @Victor - u need a reality check o big time....lol

Peter: @topic: Okay firstly if you do not want to have sex you should not. Secondly and this is a personal opinion there really cannot be rape in a marriage especially when you are not seperated. Yes it sounds cold but it is true

Jane : @Peter - if u dey live overseas - why can't u try it on ur wife & let her report it 2 d cops to find out if na rape or not - married or seperated eh??????

Peter @Jane: long shot here says you are single and not exactly young. You wan to live by culture you probably don't even adapt, come on. I do not have to rape anybody and for the life of me never had sex with anyone tha did not want to. You got to get it right getting emotional is never reasonable.

Jane @Peter: - first of all, u need 2 get ur facts right b4 u begin 2 size me up!!! Secondly.....it's so hard 2 believe dat u haven't done such act b4....u sounded so cold & uncompassionate in ur comment above.

Peter: You know what as far as I am concerned marriage is overrated and was invented by a woman. Men don't want to get married you women do so do we make an issue out of it. Be happy living your life the way it is and if a man who is 50 is happy getting it off with an 18 year old what do you care! Please get a fucking life and stop lamenting at the fact that you are in your mid 30s and God maybe early to mid 40s and not married or divorced or a single mother, get on with life!

Jane @Peter: - my point exactly........another unreasonable comment coming 4rm u.......why I'm I not surprised! Thanks 4 proving me right!

Peter: @Jane: believe it or not do not feel the need to prove a point to you or anybody else. You don't open your mind talk less of see reason, yeah I am the bad guy cos rape in marriage does not make sense but bcis it make sense in a couple of western world your own tradition gies down the drain and you wonder why you and I cannot discuss at the same level! Educate yourself open your mind be objective.

Eve: @Peter: What a chauvinistic talk, stop blaming wrong things on culture and tradition, what culture and what tradition makes it right to force sex on someone who doesn't want it? I don't think there is anyone who doesn't want to get married, men or women, just because of circumstances beyond their control that made things happen, a beg go siddon some place if u have nothing tangible to offer this group. I am so shocked that in the 21st century there would be someone with such an archaic talk.

Peter: I guess your 35 usd a year maybe 40 and at best 50 makes you happy and sure makes you feel you know all! You need to get a life opps sorry start with an identity maybe maybe your sorry ass has a chance. I am out of here!

Admin: @Peter: ......pls dont go..................this thread here show n says alot............some men will neva eva respect women...........regardless........a woman had a hectic day..........n cos hubbys dick is up she must ansa............this men...tality is selfish.......most of these comments from some men here says alot.......SELF, SELF CENTERED, CONTROLLING,...........WOMEN DONT MEAN SHITT TO U......IRU WON WOMANIZE ALL THEIR LIVES COS THEY CAN GET WOMEN CHEAPLY..........THEY DEGRADE WOMEN IN ALL WAYS U CAN IMAGINE...............ALL MEN HAVE MOTHERS, ITS ENUFF TO RESPECT WOMEN GENERALLY, BUT HOW CAN U WHEN U DONT TAKE A MIN TO APPRECIATE WOMEN......STAY IN DA LABOR ROOM WITH THEM......ITS REALLY REALLY SAD N YA ALL R EDUCATED...........SUCH MEN KISS ASS OF FOREIGNERS WHO DO IWE IGBELU FOR THEM.............LOL.....O MA SE OOOO.

Adam: @Eve & Jane: yes to your comment about marriage rape in abroad...but in 9ja...no no no rape in marrriage. I don't think the man will ask for sex everyday. Sex is part of marriage life . Man should not rape is wife...it is painful to the woman...... Lets us think before we do things.

Peter: @Adam: I think this is a replica of Nigeria itself, we kinda let the truth go over our head. If ou marry someone and he does or she does not want give you sex regardless of the reason then they don't! Now if they force themselves over you within the confinements of marriage is it right hell no! is it rape I am sorry but going to have to go with Hell no again. Does not make it right and does not make it rape. Rape is a very ugly word people.

Author:@Peter: Rape is ugly, but it's what it is.... spousal rape - non-consensual sex in which the perpetrator is the victim's spouse.....

Ali: Dem no PAY you dowry wey you dey REFUSE sex??...Rubbishhhhhh

Author: @ Ali: what's supposed to mean? so bcos dem no collect dowry she has no right to say no to sex....... we know ur type....

Peter: @Author: Yeah right categories him he has an opinion.

Simbi: @topic: Yes of course they do.... So many marital rape issues has been swept under the carpet especially back home in Nigeria, I know a lot of people that got swollen faces because they refuse sex with their spouse, I seriously wish it will be taken serious like the normal rape thing.... most of these women cannot come to say it publicly that they have been rape. The first response is "no be your husband?"

Jack: @topic: YES U HAVE A RIGHT TO REFUSE SEX IN A MARRIAGE, SPOUSAL RAPE I NO KNOW O. LOL

So folks, this is the kind of thinking Nigerian women are subjected to! This is Nigeria!!! Just imagine that in our society, violent rape of women is condoned. "She asked for it' "No means yes" what sort of society are we breeding that takes such an inhumane view of womanhood??



Just like I said yesterday, the present ugly situation exists because our society gradually (say by the late 18th/19th century) started placing premium on the male child, making him more important than the female child by dictating for males only to inherit properties even going as far as to classify women as properties. Our culture that dictate that men are superior to women, or that husbands are domestic gods in their homes. In addition the notion was that only male children receives a proper education. Even today the family expends more resources on the male child (if any) than the female child. This results in the current position where many women simply cannot support themselves, they rely heavily on the men for their daily survival, since men have by culture grabed all the resources of wealth in our male dominated society. hence the avenue for abuse.

Note: Again, I speak in general terms for the sake of debate, as I acknowledge not every single woman is denied opportunity in the Nigerian society. If anything there has been a shift in thinking in recent times however that shift is merely a drip in the ocean of societal double standards.

I rest my case :D

“WOMAN! part 1( which man buy this car for you?”)

These post is in two parts, second part continues here

Firstly, Mena is not a feminist oh, heck I dont even know what the concept really mean if I am honest. If I was strictly one, why would I publish blogs that practically bashes women, like this for a start? Nah I am interested in all topics and it just so happens that todays topic is centered on male chauvinism. honest.

The following article was written by Chimamanda Adichie. Here are some excerpts:

Sitting beside a male friend in his car, and I roll down my window to tip a young man, one of the thousands of unemployed young men in Lagos who hang around, humorous and resourceful, and help you park your car with the expectation of a tip. I brought the money from my bag. He took it with a grateful smile. Then he looked at my friend and said, “Thank you, sir!”


This is what it is to be youngish (early thirties) and female in urban Nigeria. You are driving and a policeman stops you and either he is leering and saying “fine aunty, I will marry you,” or he is sneering, with a taunt in his demeanour and the question so heavy in the air that it need not be asked: “which man bought this car for you and what did you have to do to get him to?”
More article: A humid night two years ago, sitting beside a male friend in his car, and I roll down my window to tip a young man, one of the thousands of unemployed young men in Lagos who hang around, humorous and resourceful, and help you park your car with the expectation of a tip. I brought the money from my bag. He took it with a grateful smile. Then he looked at my friend and said, “Thank you, sir!”





This is what it is to be youngish (early thirties) and female in urban Nigeria. You are driving and a policeman stops you and either he is leering and saying “fine aunty, I will marry you,” or he is sneering, with a taunt in his demeanour and the question so heavy in the air that it need not be asked: “which man bought this car for you and what did you have to do to get him to?” You are reduced to two options; to play angry and tough and to thereby offend his masculinity and have him keep you parked by the roadside, demanding document after document. Or to play the Young Simpering Female and massage his masculinity, a masculinity already fragile from poor pay and various other indignities of the Nigerian state. I am infuriated by these options. I am infuriated by the assumption that to be youngish and female means you are unable to earn your own living without a man. And yet. Sometimes I have taken on the simpering and smiling, because I am late or I am hot or I am simply not dedicated enough to my feminist principle.



I have a friend who is, on the surface, a cliché. An aspirational cliché. She has a beautiful face, two degrees from an American Ivy League college, a handsome husband with a similar educational pedigree and two children who started to read at the age of two; she is always at the top of Nigerian women achievers lists in magazines; has worked, in the past 10 years, in consulting, hedge funds and non-governmental organisations; mentors young girls on how to succeed in a male-dominated world; recites statistics about anything from trade deficits to export revenue. And yet.



One day she told me she had stopped giving interviews because her husband did not like her photo in the newspaper, and she had also decided to take her husband’s surname because it upset him that she continued to use hers professionally. Expressions such as “honour him” and “for peace in my marriage” tumbled out of her mouth, forming what I thought of as a smouldering log of self-conquest.



Another friend is very attractive, very educated, sits on boards of companies and does the sort of management work that is Greek to me. She is single. She is a few years older than I am but looks much younger. The first board meeting she attended, a man asked her, after being introduced, “So whose wife or daughter are you?” Because to him, it was the only way she would be on that board. She was, it turned out, a chief executive. And yet. She lives in a city where her friends dream not of becoming the CEO but of marrying the CEO, a city where her singleness is seen as an affront, where marriage carries more social and political cachet than it should.



Another friend is a talented writer, a forthright woman who makes people nervous when she speaks bluntly about sex, a woman who describes herself as a feminist, and who talks a lot about gender equality and changing the system. And yet. She earns more than her husband does but once told me that he had to pay the rent, always, because it was the man’s duty to do so. “Even if he is broke and I have money, he will have to go and borrow and pay the rent.” She paused, rolling this contradiction around her tongue, and then she added, “Maybe it is because of our culture. It is what they taught us.”



There is, of course, always that “they”. Two years ago, we were slumped on sofas in his Lagos living room, my brother-in-law and I, talking about politics as we usually did.

“I think I’ll run for governor in a few years,” I said in the musing manner of a person who only half-means what they say.

“You would never be governor,” he said promptly. “You could be a senator but not governor. They won’t let a woman be governor.”



What he meant was that a governor had too much power, and was in control of too much money, none of which could be left to a woman by that invisible “they”. And yet. I realise that 15 years ago he would not have said, “you could be a senator.” Civilian rule brought greater participation of women in politics and the most popular and most effective ministers in the past 10 years have been women. In the next decade, my brother-in-law could be proved wrong. In the next three decades, he will certainly be proved wrong. But she would have to be married, the woman who would be governor.



My first novel is on the West African secondary school curriculum. My second novel is taught in universities. One question I am almost always certain of getting during media interviews is a variation of this: we appreciate the work you are doing and your novels are important but when are you getting married? I refuse to accept that the institution of marriage is what gives me my true value, and I refuse to come across as silly or coy or both. The balance is a precarious one.

“Would you ask that question to a male writer my age?” I once asked a journalist in Lagos.

“No,” he said, looking at me as though I were foolish. “But you are not a man


The Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 33, won major literary awards in 2005 and 2007


Mena's thoughts: I think what Chimamanda was talking about was the almost unspoken condescending way women are potrayed in Nigeria and in instances conditioned by society to behave.I think the situation exists because our society gradually (say by the late 18th/19th century) started placing premium on the male child, making him more important than the female child by dictating for males only to inherit properties even going as far as to classify women as properties. Our culture that dictate that men are superior to women, or that husbands are domestic gods in their homes. In addition the notion was that only male children receives a proper education. Even today the family expends more resources on the male child (if any) than the female child. This results in the current position where many women simply cannot support themselves, they rely heavily on the men for their daily survival, since men have by culture grabed all the resources of wealth in our male dominated society. hence the avenue for abuse.

And just as the areaboy felt the money was from chimamanda's friend all because he is a man..and the policeman assumed that a man bought the author her car, other demeaning stereotypes are 'accepted' in our society.

Here are a few;
If its not the notion that You are nothing without a man or children, it is the supposition that any material items you own was bought as a reward for 'servicing' a man.

As a woman there is a ceiling you 'should' aim for and not be overambitious as that is the 'proper' way to behave regardless of the fact that you are trained for the job and have the relevant experience to take it on.


What is worse about this thinking is how women are objectified in Nigeria. Its either you are the innocent virgin submissive very young lady (note some read submissiveness to mean you should be emotionally, verbally and physically assaulted with a grateful smile on your lips and longsuffering knees on the floor thanking God for a man)or you are the outspoken, 'open eye' whore (God help you if you are also still single and an adult) or you are the diabolical, jealous, desperate old witch out to suck the blood of people so as to live longer (reserved for much older women)

Other variations of woman hood exists but I think you get my drift.


Just imagine that in our soceity, violent rape of women is condoned. "She asked for it' "No means yes" what sort of society are we breeding? Also imagine what some ethnic groups put widows through so they can prove they dont have a hand in the death of their husbands. Who encouraged this process? Why dont they subject men to the same humiliation?

They dont because society has been conditioned to accept the villification of women in our society.

Note: I speak in general terms for the sake of debate, as I acknowledge not every single woman is denied opportunity in the Nigerian society. If anything there has been a shift in thinking in recent times however that shift is merely a drip in the ocean of societal double standards.

I rest my case :D

OFFICIALLY tendering my resignation as an adult!!!!!!!

To Whom it May Concern
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult.

I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year old again.



I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to play dodgeball at recess and paint with watercolors in art.
I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple.
When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.
I want to believe that anything is possible.

Somewhere in our youth, we matured and learned too much.
There are nuclear weapons, war, prejudice, and abused children. Lies, unhappy marriages, illness, pain, and death. A world where companies poison our water and our soil, and children kill.

What happened to the time when we thought that everyone would live forever, because we didn't grasp the concept of death? When the worst thing in the world was if someone took the jump rope from you or picked you last for kickball.

I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to return to the days when children played hide-and-seek outside instead of being glued to a television, when video games were as harmless as Pac-Man...instead of spine-ripping, blood-splattering mind numbing like Mortal Combat, and TV still had some shows on that weren't about sex, killing, and lies.

I remember being naive and thinking everyone was happy because I was. Afternoons were spent climbing trees and fences and riding my bike.
I never worried about time, bills, or where I was going to find the money to fix my car.
I used to wonder what I was going to do or be when I grew up, not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.

I want to live simple again.
I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So...here's my checkbook , my car keys, my credit card bill, and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.

And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause..."Tag! You're it!"

What Not To Do In Paris

very very interesting article
5. DON'T try to see the Louvre in 3 hours or under
You've come all this way and we know you might have other places on your itinerary, but dashing through the Louvre Museum is just robbing yourself. It really deserves an entire day, especially considering how much you spend on the entrance tickets (14 Euro per person, for the whole place) and how long it'll take you first find the Mona Lisa and then wait for the crowd to part enough so that you can get a picture with it in the background.

4. DON'T don a beret, striped shirt, red neck kerchief, grow out a thin mustache, or do any combination of those things.
This is what is called "perpetuating a stereotype." You don't drive to Texas and throw spurs on your boots and the biggest 10-gallon hat on your head, do you? A trip to Paris is not Halloween. Regardless, there will be those who violate this rule, and we have no doubt that they will also try to wear kimonos in Japan.

3. DON'T forget to purchase an RER ticket for the train to the airport
Many tourists are tripped up on this since they believe that the initial entry ticket to the Metro will get them out to Charles de Gaulle airport. Alas, no. There are RER police that come aboard to check ticket, making sure you have a full fare ticket for the airport. If you're caught lacking, then the fine is at least 20 Euros—it'd be a shame to lose your airport coffee and baguette money before even reaching CDG.

2. DON'T go to Paris with the belief that luxury goods will be cheaper
Because they won't. Brands, especially French luxury brands, have their images to uphold. Just because they are headquartered in Paris or their goods are made in France doesn't mean that they'll give you a proximity discount. Fine things take so much to manufacture, and because so many tourists come to Paris with the dream of purchasing a Chanel jacket or a Louis Vuitton bag or an Hermes boot here, that's all the more reason to keep price high (or higher!).

1. DON'T order a la carte at dinner
Going out to a mid-price or fancy restaurant is a dream, when you're in France and looking for the best wine and unpronounceable cheeses. Instead of racking up an astronomical bill by picking and choosing, better to go with a prix fixe menu, a more economical way to enjoy a variety of courses. Most restaurants have prix fixe menus that change daily, but beware of any outright labeled as "tourist menus," since those will often skimp on the portions or offer up blander choices.

What are your Paris DOs and DON'Ts? Have you done any of the above and loved or regretted it?
source

Health tip for the week:CLEANING YOUR KIDNEYS!!

This was forwarded to me by the Professional Services Director / Lecturer, Brent Sickle Cell & Thalassaemia Centre,
Central Middlesex Hospital (so i think it's worth taking note of)


Years pass by and our kidneys are filtering the blood by removing salt, poison and any unwanted entering our body. With time, the salt accumulates and this needs to undergo cleaning treatments and how are we going to overcome this?
It is very easy, first take a bunch of parsley and wash it clean
Then cut it in small pieces and put it in a pot and pour clean water and boil it for ten minutes and let it cool down and then filter it and pour in a clean bottle and keep it inside refrigerator to cool.
Drink one glass daily and you will notice all salt and other accumulated poison coming out of your kidney by urination also you will be able to notice the difference which you never felt before.
Parsley is known as best cleaning treatment for kidneys and it.

My thoughts: It sounds simple enough, worth a try! What say you? Have a wonderful week!! God bless !!

X
Me'mena

Attention! For women who love Nigerian men...(on a lighter note :P)

found this hilarious take on certain groups of Nigerian men online.This is just for fun and should not be taken personally nor seriosly.I just choose to end an incredibly stressful day this way. Hope you like??
IGBO HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. He is very loyal

2. He maintains monogamy

3. Could be very yielding/gullible

4. Gives you access to all his assets

5. Follows your advice and directions to the letter

6. Spends money on you for comfort, good looks and happiness

7. Takes care of your kids



Poor Qualities:

1. Could be very unromantic-Romance is limited to spending money, spending money

and spending money.

2. May be semi-literate or illiterate.

3. May marry you early and deny you of access to life/youth.

4. More likely to be crude and unrefined

5. Always has a large family to cater to and take care of plus apprentices etc

6. May not be presentable

7. May be horrible in bed and/or sexually illiterate/unwilling to explore.

8. Could be gullible/easy to deceive





YORUBA HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. Could be very romantic.

2. Could be caring

3. Tries to maintain leadership in the home.

4. Disciplines kids well

5. More white-collar career inclined

6. Literacy level is usually high



Poor Qualities:

1. More likely to philander

2. More likely to eventually marry another wife

3. More likely to marry you for your money/connections.

4. Could be highly assertive.

5. Most times you would take care of yourself after a while.

6. You may eventually separate with nothing to show for it.

7. Family members may be given priority.





EDO HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. Believes in marriage

2. Takes care of you and your needs.



Poor Qualities:

1. May end up not taking full care of the kids

2. Could be very harsh

3. Does not take any nonsense

4. You may end up taking care of him

5. You cant cheat on him.





URHOBO HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. Believes in marriage

2. Takes care of you and your children's needs.

3. Loves to give good sex



Poor Qualities:

1. Get ready to have 16 children

2. You may end up taking care of him

2. You cant cheat on him.

3. His romantic nature is very harsh and forceful

4. Very demanding in bed

5. Be sure to accommodate two more wives, girlfriends and dont employ

a pretty househelp.





EFIK HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. Will effectively take care of the culinary activities in your absence.

2. Is usually very religious

3. Hardworking

4. Good in bed

5. Quite organised and clean.



Poor Qualities:

1. Be prepared to have 12 kids

2. Your cooking may not be good enough

3. He will either be very ugly or handsome, very short or tall.

It's from one extreme to another and nothing in between.

4. Prepare to have a husband years older than you and possibly in his fifties while

you're only 25 years old.





HAUSA HUSBAND



Good Qualities:

1. Hardly believes in premarital sex.

2. Very religious

3. Takes care of you

4. Usually comes FULLY EQUIPPED down under..!



Poor Qualities:

1. You may be wife number 4

2. You may be wife number 4 at 14

3. You have absolutely no say in anything, anywhere and anytime.

4. If he passes away, you may be transferred to another family member.

Hope you like??

Kola Boof Rants: Modeling sucks if you’re a hyper-intelligent woman.

" I don't deny that I'm a controversial, provocative public figure. I reject all man-made religions, be it Christianity, Islam, the Jewish faith, Buddhism or any worship that was created by men. I am a womanist and an African mother. I bare my breasts in the river once a month and I believe in the womb. "



I have written about her in this blog. Clickhere here and here for past articles.

But to recap: Egyptian-Sudanese-American novelist and poet Kola Boof has been an agent for Sudan’s SPLA and was the National Chairwoman of the U.S. Branch of the Sudanese Sensitization Peace Project.

She blogs at Kola Boof. com
Modeling sucks if you’re a hyper-intelligent woman. But we’ll go deeper with that in a minute. First—I want to share with you some really funny shit.
I was twenty-four and relatively “dumb” when this happened. You must picture Tel Aviv, Israel circa 1994; seaside resort for the jet set, totally secular—Israel’s young and rich; the happy and the sinful. A forty-something gay male friend (and Sissy Spacek look-alike) who we’ll call “Swan” had rescued me from being an older man’s mistress in Fairfax, Virginia and taken me across the ocean to Israel with the bright idea that me being over six foot tall and slender with an angular face would instantly translate into Naomi Campbell’s millions as a supermodel. Swan knew a Jewish photographer in Israel and both were comfortable in that culture, so off to Israel I went. The photographer indeed trained me, bedded me! (haha), sent me on “go-sees” and got me steady work as a pose model. But my dearly beloved Swan turned out to be a lot more adventurous and dangerous than anyone could have predicted. He almost got the both of us put in prison for life!
Using the money of some rich old Jewish politician, Swan opened an “exotic eatery” called “WHO’S GAME” where we served ultra-expensive delicacy meats such as kangaroo, antelope, elk, boa constrictor, cobra, ostrich, wallaby and crocodile—Swan cooking and me playing the glamorous, charming hostess. I swear on a stack of Bibles…I never knew that we were actually serving chicken thighs, white-dyed chicken thighs and more chicken thighs with egg plant pieces, different sauces and food colorings dribbled over it to make it seem like exotic game meats.
The authorities arrived one day and arrested Swan. Not only was he high on marijuana and face beat (meaning made up a like woman; androgyny) when they busted in the place—but he tried to deny that the highly expensive plates warming over rock-fire grills were nothing more than cheap chicken cuts. He insisted it was real exotic game meat and I had no reason not to defend him, to insist right along with him.
“This is no crocodile and bison!” hollered the police. “The shit tastes like chicken…and it is chicken! Arrest them both!”

Suffice to say, I had to leave Israel. The photographer and other prominent Jewish people who’d gotten to know me spoke on my behalf, insisting that I was innocent, and T-Swan went to jail by himself. Year later, after sending him money in jail, I managed to secure a lawyer and get him out; mainly because I knew his heart and loved him regardless of the scam. But our friendship died the day he got me entangled in that mess and I swiftly departed Israel.
Being the daughter of noted Egyptian archaeologist and activist Harith Bin Farouk (and speaking Egypto Arabic fluently), I returned to my father’s country, Egypt. This too, was illegal, because they don’t allow people to travel freely from Israel to Egypt without special permissions and stacks of paperwork. I basically fucked a Judge in Jerusalem and was sent over with an Arab politician in six days flat for free.
Hired as a model for “Seychelle”, a Greek firm, I immediately became a “paid party girl” at Egypt’s top resort, “Sharm el Sheik” (I got to meet Colin Powell!). A paid party girl is not quite a prostitute. You must realize that in Arab Muslim cultures, the majority of women cannot go with their hair uncovered or any skin showing. So foreign women (models, actresses, singers, dancers) are paid money to come and be “wall candy” for political state balls and government affairs. Our job was to look “western,” glamorous, sexy and anything else from there was up to us. Some girls did prostitution raking in hundreds of thousands in months; some only accepted the check for appearing at the party, and many others, like me, sought what I call “parity”—a mistress position with powerful and wealthy men. Within months I was working as a “hostess” for Egypt’s President Mubarak at both Sharm el Sheik and on his private yachts in the Mediterranean. I never had sex with President Mubarak (frankly, he isn’t sexually attracted to Black women who look Black). But it was while working for him that the world of modeling, acting and being a “kept woman” opened up for me.
Quickly—in case you’re unaware of my bio, I’m Sudanese born but adopted and raised by Black Americans since the age of 8 or 10 (there’s no way to know my age for sure). My Egyptian father and Oromo Charcoal-colored mother were murdered in my presence for Pappuh speaking out against the building of Lake Nuba, slavery and genocide in Sudan. Couple that with me being “raised” by American Blacks in Washington, D.C., and you begin to understand what made me so intriguing and exotic to Arabs, Africans and Jews alike. I was chocolate colored with the long angular Nilotic face, the large forehead and the wispy frame. I could speak Arabic. But I was also very American in appearance and spoke English flawlessly without an accent. I wore weaves, was assertive and bold and I could mimic the slang of an American abeeGoddessa (hot chocolate)—Pam Grier, Vivica Fox, Donna Summer, Diana Ross, Condoleeza Rice, Whitney Houston—the kind of Black women Arab men fettish in those countries, mainly because there are none over there.
Who can forget the pandemonium that broke out in Vienna, Austria in the mid-1990’s when 300 native Austrian men showed up at a Video Rental Shop to purchase a VHS motion picture that featured Vivica Fox. It was crazy and violent fighting over such few copies; but they don’t have women who look like Vivica over there, so to them, she’s an alien dream fantasy.
As much as racism worked against me in Israel and the Arab North African world; it was this exotic status that also benefitted me.
Though I’m definitely not claiming that I’m an exceptionally beautiful woman or even beautiful—what I do know is that I am outrageously tall with a striking face, DD natural breasts, a nice booty and 50-inch legs.

Add in my Sharon Stone attitude and being a great beauty was not important. I appealed wildly to Arab men’s race-specific lust (the belief that black women are insatiable panthers waiting to be ravaged) and their hate.
I was never the type of Black Woman who gave a shit about other races seeing us as “sexual athletes” or hyper-sexualizing us. Frankly, I think that’s where a lot of us go wrong—trying to prove shit; trying to prove that we’re decent and clean; trying to prove our humanity to people who can’t stand the birth of us no matter how docile and respectable we act. It’s also why I hate Men’s religion (Christianity, Judaism, Islam, all of their “woman is impure/needs to be shut away on her period” crap). Since I was a child, there was always a part of me, a huge part of me that believes I’m the best thing in the room; it’s also how I see other Black women—so I’ve never really been able to care what other races of people think about my sexuality. I feel that my sexuality is mine, for me to enjoy, and that’s what I did and do. I live my life.
I modeled and eventually moved to Libya and Morocco where I became “actress Naima Kitar” doing television commercials and over forty Arab B-movie comedies (always cast as the topless African girl prostitute, usually the only Black in the whole film). In one commercial, the punch line was having my wig snatched off by my little boy. Arabs love to see African women demeaned or portrayed as overweight. In the one and only film that I was ever the lead star, “Al Sitar” (The Curtain; made in Morocco), I got to sing wearing beautiful gowns. But I was still naked for most of the movie and had sex with three Arab male characters that I happily called “sayiid mu-allim” (master) before dying in an alley from a venereal disease. It ended with the male love interest announcing my death from “dark demons” and him marrying a nice Arab Muslim girl to cleanse him of my seduction.
I know I’m talking a lot. But what I really want this piece to do is two things. One, show African-Americans how Blacks are treated virtually the same everywhere in the world (the “brown brothers” Camel shit that Black Americans spew claiming anonymous, invisible solidarity with “others” sickens me to no end—the average Black American can’t even relate to Alek Wek, so how on earth are they thinking Arabs, Spaniards and White Latinos are their brothers and sisters beyond “surface affection”?). And two, to tell those of you who are women about one of the moments in my life that I started accepting the fact that I need feminism as a force and protector for myself.
I woke up one day and realized that male models are called “male models.” But that we females were simply called “models.” Women who prostitute are simply called “prostitutes” while men who prostitute are called “male prostitutes.” The wording indicated a lack of expectation for womanhood’s ability that morning. It indicated a long history of women being powerless and oppressed by men’s privilege—men’s right to own our sexuality (own it!) via marriage or dowry. And then demonize it provided a woman chose the ultimate freedom, prostitution (which frees the woman from loving and catering to one man and allows her to make a career out of many men). Granted, I believe most of the world’s prostitution is the result of women being desperate, uneducated, unloved and lost. I don’t think it’s something that most women want or see as a good career choice. But I do think it’s a woman’s right; and a lucrative career choice for smart women who know fully what they’re doing. The wording though—model; prostitute; stripper—and then society adding “male” as a prefix whenever males did it, gnawed at me.
I was born the observant analytical type; the chief components of a good writer (which I hadn’t realized back then); so the more I modeled, the more disturbed I began to feel about how I was allowing my body to be used. For us Black models working in North Africa or Spain, there weren’t any hair care products or makeup that flawlessly matched our tones. In fact, unlike the lighter-skinned girls, we had to do our own hair and makeup. Black American girlfriends in Anacostia Park, Lanham, Hampton University, Harlem and Brooklyn sent me Crème of Nature, Ultra Sheen and bottles of foundation I mixed until I got near the Chocolate Gold coloring of my face. Less care went into photographing us. Hours could be spent on lighting and photographing the White, Arab, Spanish and occasionally Asian model. But African girls were just thrown against a wall or posed across a table. They often put us in animal prints and gave us a spear. The clothing that the White and Tan models didn’t want to wear went to us; lesser time and detail went into us. And we were paid less money. Some under aged African beauties were photographed, raped and not paid at all.
I was naturally skinny black then, so I never had to starve myself. But this is how the White and Tan models suffered, too. At times one of them (almost always a blond) would come up missing and be found weeks later dead. They did starvation diets and myriad drugs to stay thin. Everything was about being ultra-skinny, tall and boy-like. Several African girls “skin bleached” and took the Michael Jackson Pill to try and attain a lighter complexion and they felt no shame about it. In fact, they considered me stupid for cherishing my color and wanting to look like Angela Bassett in my photos. One of the blond girls had her vagina infibulated and circumcised like us African girls to be “closer” to us (dumb bitch). She was suicidal about it, and to this day lives in agony, but she ended up making literally millions off the men, because of course, in Arabic Africa, that’s what the men prefer above all us—a properly cut and permanently tightened vagina. And then always, the men booking, choosing and photographing us made it clear that we were to use our beauty as a punishment against other women—our skeletal glamorexic images invoking a reminder that for not looking like us or trying to look like us, they deserved whatever was dished out by the men in their lives. Quite literally, the men talked openly about how they wouldn’t “smile at no ugly girl” and didn’t have to be polite women who they found unattractive. A few even boasted about how they’d made some ugly girl’s day by gang-raping her. They saw it as charity.
It was nice with most of the British and French photographers, though. What I despised was working with the Arabs or the ones from Barcelona, Sicily or Portugal. And if you were an African girl modeling on that rare occasion for a Black Western male or auditioning for something that a Black Male had a vote in, it was typically your worst nightmare, because they, our own seed, hated us the most.
Black men in the industry, unless they were homosexual, always made it clear for reasons I’ve never understood that Black women should be invisible; should be unloved; should be grateful to live in the shadow of everyone else. They were horrible to us but couldn’t kiss the asses of White and Tan girls enough. Unlike other races of men, African males judged us almost solely on how dark or light we were. Having African hair (ie. Nappy) absolutely revolted them. The lighter and more European you looked, the more Black men could see you as a human being or admit out loud that you were pretty. So along with the Arabs, they were the rock bottom worst.
But overall, the whole modeling endeavour sucked.
I was too much of a critical thinker not to laugh at how absurd and demeaning my job was. Each day, I felt dumber and dumber standing posed in grass in high heels and a leopard sheath pussy-cover (what I call mini-skirts) with Prince Charles painted over my bare tits and a wig made of long dog-smelling hair cascading down my back.
“Stop thinking so much, Naima—it’s showing in the camera. Stop thinking! We don’t need you to think! You’re supposed to give us a fantasy—not a real person! If the sun is too hot and mosquitoes are biting you—do what Naomi Campbell would do—make love to it! You’re supposed to be the ultimate goddess in these shots. You want every man to worship you don’t you? ”
I just really wanted the money back then. Nearly twenty years later, I realize that I’ve never once missed modeling, and on occasion, even denied that I ever used to do it.
I never felt like a woman when I was modeling.
source
What say you? God bless !!

X
Me'mena

MENA HOLLERS: THANKS FOR ALL YOUR FEEDBACK FRIENDS, and...

...welcome:))!

How was your weekend? Good? Bad? so so? Mine was terrible :(, firstly the boiler packed up (in freezing temperatures, I should add) affecting my central heating, which in addition caused water to run from my overhead tank..ALL WEEKEND LONG!

Note that my chief and chieftess are visiting and of course will be cold and upset (more on them when you click here )
All in all I had no heating all weekend and very angry guests PLUS will have a huge water and electricity bill to look forward to next period.. Methinks its time to bite the bullet and buy own house!!!

Anyway enough about it and the kind of torture I have been panning for my estate agent *deep breaths Mena* I have a couple of blogs I will be sharing in the next few days which I hope you can some time to peek at :)).

The first one is a lighthearted take on Nigerian men. All stererotypes but still hilarious. The second is another article on the womanist called Kola Boof. There is a number of articles on her here here and here so far, which, I should add, have had a lot of hits from visitors to this blog but the visitors are sharing their thoughts? Perhaps they find it a voyeuristic delight???

Swiftly moving on...
apart from those blogs mentioned, I have some more blogs still in draft phase, which I hope you will enjoy!

Before I forget, gigantic HI to newbies! Thanks for following me and for posting links to my blogs in your website..I sincerely appreciate that and will like to reciprocate, so please place a comment in here with a link to your website or more recent blog so I can go and interact with you as well as follow you! Thanks again oxo

So am off to publish the first blog then! Note that even as I sign off from here the water is still gushing out and there is still no heating! Oh well, have a great week!!!

IS 'DIRTY SECRETS' = soft porn or not?

So I was visiting blogsville when I noticed the buzz about a movie in Nollywood. “Dirty Secret”is the title and the preview on youtube is right here.
(Dont know how to embed videos yet, sowwy)

The movie apparently caused so much uproar that porn is not part of the AFrican culture, the erotic scenes depicted by the actors and actresses reflected their own morals or lack of. Infact the story had so many hits that one of the actresses (allegedly?!) tweeted at critics to mind their own business as she is only doing her job. (OK it was a very rude update but I managed to summarise it :P)


Now I dont know anything about the actress, Tonto Dike nor her reputation as I had left Nigeria before she gained popularity/notoriety.

But one significant thing that happened was a rejoinder to the initial article which stated that once the video was released, it was sold out with people asking for more copies

It was at tha point that Mena was kicked out of her semi asleep mood and put on her thinking cap.

I came up with a few questions:

1. Is it valid to describe that video as 'porn'

2. Does the fact that an actor/actress interpretes a role given to him to the best of his/her ability have any connection to his/her moral standards (if any?)

3. Is sexual immorality 'foreign' to the Nigerian culture?

4. And if art mirrors real life, can it be argued that writers of that movie created it from actions displayed within the Nigerian society?

5. Who bought the copies of the movies that was allegedly 'sold out' then??

6. WHat are your independent thoughts(if any)Is it reactive, defensive, indifferent?




I realise that am adding 'free buzz' as someone put it, to the hype surrounding the movies and am fine with that. Dont say I dont support Nigerian based art/artistes oh :P

Mena

p.s: Note that I have not seen the movie and will not be seeing it as firstly I prefer movies that challenge my mind (say like se7en, sixth sense, the usual suspects etc) and in addition I personally find the preview tacky.

P.P.S: I know I said nothing about the content of the movie, this is because I am more interested in the 'moral outrage' as displayed by its intended market

SEE BIIIG YANNSH, SEE BIIG BOOOOBS!

Hey!!

Took a stroll around brent cross shopping centre last weekend in search of a good suit for my graduation. I noticed a few couples locked in embrace...

Ever wondered what she or he was thinking while smooching? yes???? What a frigging coincidence, me too!! :P

SO lady and man are locked in a snog, what could be going through their heads? At a guess, the lady is thinking, "he smells nice" "such fit and muscular body" "fresh breath" "such big and strong hands, hope its a reflection of his thingy".....etc.

And the man? "WOOOOAH, SUCH BIIIIIG BREASTS!" "LOVELY HAIRLESS SOFT AND SILKY SKIN", "SUPPLE BUUUUM AND HIIIPS", "LOOOONG LEGS! WANNA GET TO SECOND AND THIRD BASE!!"




But those are their thoughts, what they actually say is

Lady: " This feels good, could stay here forever "
Man: "I want to show you someone that is eager to meet you....."

indeed, he decides to show her. The man unzips his trousers, whips his thingy out and shoves it in her hand.

She says, 'Thanks, but I don't smoke.'

.......................

LNGKMD, LOOOL!
Mena

p.s: A great big welcome to newbies! Please leave a comment palcing a link to your latest blog and Mena is on it, like a $%£ on @$@~! :)))

Mena is very Grateful*...

Grateful

Mena is Grateful

Mena is very Grateful...

Mena is very Grateful....To

Mena is very Grateful....To God*

Mena is very Grateful....To God and

Mena is very Grateful....To God and she will look to psalms!



Shall I ever be able to praise you:
God give me wings to get to the heart of it?

I will praise you, LORD, with all my heart;
before the “gods” I will sing your praise.

I want to learn more of your wonders:
there are so many things to know and to enjoy.

I will bow down toward your holy temple
and will praise your name
for your unfailing love and your faithfulness

For you are present in wind and fire:
in the atom and the microchip your glory flames out,

My world is charged with your grandeur:
your sparks too brilliant for human eyes.

I begin to feel your rhythm and hear your music:
the trouble is in myself!

Help me to glorify you also in my failures:
to praise you in spite of sinfulness in our inhuman world.

Because when I called, you answered me;
you greatly emboldened me.

I cannot yet thank you for everything there is:
but I can give praise to you in everything I know.

Though the LORD is exalted, he looks kindly on the lowly;
though lofty, he sees them from afar.

Your goodness is beyond my meagre understanding:
your eternity transcends the span of our lifetimes.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life.

You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes;
with your right hand you save me

When can I have courage to be happy and learn to praise you?:
you're with me now yourself to voice my praise

your love, LORD, endures forever—
you do not abandon the works of your hands.

*I attended my (belated) graduation ceremony and am now officially educated.Have a nice day & God bless !! :))
X
Me'mena

Men cheat. Get used to it. Case closed.question is, WHY?

Eva and Tony's break up is sad, and as forTony's cheating via sexting; 100 texts in a month, dude needs a psychiatrists oh!
'Mena you too talk! If you can just remove your eyeballs from the hunk of a man that is Tony Parker and listen to me. Learn this as a famous guy you meet a lot of beautiful women. You feel attracted to them, they feel attracted to you, and you end up in bed. It's not more complicated than that and there's no way to stop it.' Men cheat. Get used to it. Case closed.



Such shallow drivel has been the level of discourse ever since the story broke that Woods may have had enough mistresses to staff a female softball team. Firstly, if there is no way to guarantee male faithfulness, why are we all scandalized by Woods's behavior? And second, a whole parade of powerful men - Eliot Spitzer, John Ensign, Mark Sanford, John Edwards - are destroying themselves and their families with acts of infidelity. And we can't come with any cause other than powerful men have a sense of entitlement?

What impedes any deep understanding of infidelity is the public's natural assumption that husbands have affairs for sex. In fact, the vast majority of husbands' affairs have no physical component. They are cyber affairs that take place over the internet. They are conducted over the phone and are never consummated. And even when they do get physical it is often very bad and unsatisfying sex, as Monica Lewinsky shared in the Starr Report and as a multitude of JFK's mistresses alleged as well.

IN TRUTH, men have affairs not for physical reasons but for emotional ones. They cheat not out of a sense of confidence but out of a state of brokenness. Not out of a sense of how desirable they are but out of a sense of what failures they are. And this is especially true of men like Tiger Woods and Bill Clinton who live in a hyper-competitive environments where they realize that they are only special to the extent that they keep on winning. Men like these are particularly broken, living as they do just one failure away from obscurity. They know that their value as human beings rests entirely in other people's hands. And they live in permanent and painful insecurity. They constantly question their self-worth and they turn to women both to feel desirable and to comfort them from their pain.

Yes, I know. Men like Tiger Woods appear to the public as cool-as-a-cucumber. But beneath the calm veneer is a man who has been trained to believe that his value as a human being rests entirely on a never-ending game of human one-upmanship. Those who have made their names in sports and politics live with unimaginable insecurity. And rather than deal with these insecurities in a healthy way by having deep emotional conversations with their wives about their fears, it is easier to simply paper them over by turning to strangers who make them feel special.

The attention of other women brings a momentary silencing of the inner demons who constantly taunt them with whispers of their own insignificance. And the more prized the woman is by other men, the greater the validation these men feel.

Coupled with this is the intuitive gravitation by men to the healing powers of the feminine. Men who are in pain use the caress and the care of a woman as a salve to sooth their broken egos. Having a woman care for you and make herself available to you - not to mention tell you how wonderful you are - becomes a like a drug that makes you feel instantly better. Of course, the healing is ephemeral and unfulfilling based as it is on a highly artificial sense of intimacy.

The obvious question, now, is this. If a man who feels deeply insecure looks to a woman to make him feel special, why doesn't he turn to his own wife? Because any man who suspects deep down that he is a loser is going to look at the woman dumb enough to marry him as a loser squared. She has allied herself with failure and is part of the same loser package. And if she has no value, how can she confer it on someone else?



THE PUBLIC makes the mistake of assuming that powerful, successful men are the most confident, that elite sport stars like Tiger Woods are unflappable. Precisely the opposite is true. Everyone who seeks the spotlight, whether in sports, television or politics, does so to compensate for some inner feeling of inadequacy, as Aristotle made clear more than two millennia ago. Every 'successful' man is inwardly broken in some way. If not, why would they spend their lives seeking a place in the public's heart?

Many will argue with me. Adultery is about sex. It's about powerful men behaving arrogantly. But then why is the most common refrain of the adulterous husband to his mistress the very infamous, 'My wife doesn't understand me,' meaning, My wife can't take away my pain, but maybe you can. My wife can't make me feel good about myself. Even in my marriage I still feel so insignificant. But being with you makes me feel special.

I was not at all surprised to hear Woods's alleged mistresses saying that he told them he loved them and was unhappy with his wife. Cheating husbands always say things like this. And at the time, they mean it. Monica Lewinsky said that Bill Clinton told her he would leave Hillary and marry her, which again is common with the unfaithful spouse. They're expressing their inner misery and blaming their wives for their unhappiness when really they are solely responsible for their low self-esteem which will carry over into every relationship until he finally decides to fix himself.

This is why we see philandering husbands so often having many, as opposed to just one mistress. No woman can make a broken man feel good about himself. So he becomes a wanderer, obsessively traveling from woman to woman hoping that at least one will provide the magical salve he seeks.

Many have said that husbands like Tiger Woods are sex addicts. But then why aren't they addicted to sex with their wives? Why does it have to come from another woman?

FROM UNDERSTANDING the cause we can create a solution. Men who learn to talk to their wives about their deepest fears slowly become immune to an affair. Infidelity, it turns out, often provides a starting point for couples to address the void in their relationship which usually consists of the lack of truly intimate communication about life's anxieties and apprehensions. A man's deepest fear is of failure. And the person he most masks this from is his own wife because she is the person whose opinion matters most.

I know husbands who have been laid off from their jobs in this recession who still put on a suit every day and leave the house so that their wives never find out. So-called 'successful' men harbor the same fears. And rather than destructively address the fear by becoming a stud to other women, he can purge from himself a dependency on strangers by learning to confide fully in his wife.

The number one complaint of wives in marriage is that their husbands don't talk to them about their feelings. When a philandering husband is trying to win his wife back after cheating on her, what better way than to finally open up to her about the reasons for his unfaithfulness. It was never a rejection of her. It did not happen because she did not give him enough sex, or that she didn't go to the gym, or wasn't emotionally available.

Those are the excuses of a coward. A boy blames others for his failures. A man takes responsibility for his actions. Rather, it was because he falsely thought that someone other than his wife could make him feel good about himself. And now he has learned that those feelings of self-confidence are the preserve of only one woman.

Source: The Jerusalem Post
my thoughts: Good points in there but most importantly Tony Parker is a fyyyne looking man. LOL :P

The qualities he is looking for in a woman

“The small of a woman’s back is sexy,” he said. “There is a tenderness a woman has that could make a man fall to his knees and a strength that will tell him to be the greatest of all.


“For a woman to be able to dominate and also be feminine and soft, that’s a talent. “And it’s not all about appearance. A woman who is intelligent, has a brain, who is street-smart and book-smart — that woman is very, very sexy to me.”

Usher Raymond, — who has two sons, Usher V, two, and 23-month-old Naviyd, with ex-wife Tameka Foster — also spoke of the importance of communication in making a relationship work. “Women see things that men don’t,” he said. “I guess it’s more important for a man to hear a woman, not just listen. “The perfect relationship is one where both parties try to understand what their mate is not just saying, but feeling too.”

Usher sounds really deep, especially with his comments placing less emphasis on looks, more on character, BUT, I cant tell if he is just being media savvy, lets face it, his target market are the ladies

I guess his search for Miss Right continues?

Source: http://bossip.com/307737/usher55555/#more-307737

Cure for common cold! (Disclaimer: Very adult content part 2)

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Cure for common cold! (Disclaimer: Very adult content part 1)

(Preface:He kisses your tummy, tiny bites…
Then pulls off your trousers and panties in one go.....)

Hey!!


Took a look at the live traffic feed for most of my free time today and I noticed that readers in here prefer the blogs with graphic sexual contents? Ah well no one does sexual content than Afrobabe and Nutty Jay. (muahaha)


The following medical advice was given by Afrobabe as the cure to common cold.


Picture this…you’ve got a nasty cough, it’s so bad you are practically panting.

He holds you to comfort you. He starts rubbing your neck, then your tummy.

His hands come up to your boobs, he squeezes the nipples…You are burning up and know it’s got nothing to do with the fever. You kiss his neck, run your hands through his hairy chest, squeeze his nipples…Squeezing is not enough for you, you want to taste him. You feel his turgid member (wonder who came up with that name…member? He must have been some fool). You feel his turgid dick (love this one…can I free your dick from the trousers sounds better than "Can I free your member....don't you think so??) pressing into your thigh…he is rock hard…there is a little wetness on the tip…it makes you salivate…

He pulls off your shirt like he is in a rush and needs to get somewhere real fast. The bra comes off… A wet tongue on your nipples…Licking…licking…licking…you are so wet you just want to grab the dick but he wont let you…you are dying of anticipation…you want pressure on your nipples…you wish he would suck…suck hard…you push closer, filling his mouth with the boobs…he knows…there is a slight smile on his face…he suddenly sucks it hard…the breath escapes from you…you hold his head..You know you are loosing it…Now you need to feel him inside you real bad…

You pull his head from your boobs with force and kiss him deeply…he pulls away from the kiss and squeezes the nipple, he is looking at you…you are at that point where your makeup could cost a million bucks but you don’t care…you have on a face you didn’t practice in the mirror…

He kisses your tummy, tiny bites…

Then pulls off your trousers and panties in one go…slides his fingers inside you….with the wetness he puts pressure on your clit…you don’t want this foreplay anymore…you cant stand it…you are gasping and panting…you want to feel him deep inside you…you want to fuck!!!

You yank off his trousers and pull out the dick…so what if you are an African girl and mama brought you up better than that…you hold it and feel the strength in it…you feel the blood coursing through…you feel the wetness on the tip…

He turns to the drawer to pull out a condom and you slip your fingers inside your self…under the sheets because you are a good girl and are not supposed to know those things…

He lies back and starts putting on the condom…you sit up impatiently waiting…as soon as it's on, you sit on him…not moving…just let him fill you up…its in so deep you are trying not to scream…you want to scream…you need to scream…it’s the only way the pressure will leave your skin…the Goosebumps…he sits up with you on top and grabs your boobs…you scream…. At this point you could be an Afghanistan for all you care…mummy’s little girl is bad and loving it…

He turns you onto the bed so you are backing him and enters from behind…forcefully…you scream "Jesus, My God, Oh Father"…you are blaspheming so you try to keep quiet but then he rams in deeply and you almost add Jeremiah to the litany…he is all the way in…you feel your toes curling up…you feel a rush…its coming…you are coming….you yell out to him to fuck you…At that moment you will give anything for him to stop but then you would give doubly anything to make him go on....His hand's in your hair.... he fucks real hard because he is coming as well…you lie down with him on top of you….fully spent…he kisses your neck…tiny little kisses that now tickle…you giggle…he pulls out of you…5 minutes later you are brought back to reality... rudely…coughing and panting…

You had forgotten the cough hadn’t you???

Guess Marvin Gaye knew what he was talking about.


My thoughts: The above piece, titled 'Sexual Healing??' was written by today's featured author Afrobabe

X
Me'mena

I started typing out this blog ..

..when the men in white coats broke open my door.They had been knocking for a while but my laptop was still rebooting, so I ignored them.




Soon enough the door was smashed open and they called out my name, mena mena, my mouth is sealed, but the sounds of typing gave away my hideout



I kicked out at the men when they tried to grab me. I clutched my bible to my chest and prayed they would go away.



My family had been summoned to a room at the back of our house and were confined to secrecy over what was happening. No good byes or kisses, but a slap in the face as I tried to reason with the men in white coats.At least they let me take this lap out



I was leg cuffed and bundled in to the back of their van, they freed my hand to keep typing, perhaps thinking that the more I typed, the less violent actions I would be able to display. They forgot about my mouth.



I hurled spittle at the man opposite me whilst chomping down on the woman's throat sat next me. She gave a weak yelp, while the man got some tape to seal my lips.



They still let me type this blog and still allowed my bible.



When the van stopped I was transferred into a three storey building.



I was shoved into the elevator as the injured woman pressed the shiny button with a 2 inscripted on it. She refused to stand anywhere near me.



I was puzzled as surely my lips were gagged?



On the second floor I saw other people looking dazed, some strapped to beds, others allowed to move.

I wasn't surprised just disgusted and almost gagging from the salty taste of the woman's skin on my mouth.



They stripped of my clothes and gave me brown overalls three sizes to big. I. HATE. THAT COLOUR so asked if they had it in purple, received a patronising stare in return.



Not knowing anyone I kept myself to myself and my laptop and my bible.



I was not told to why I'm here, and what I did to warrant such treatment.



Maybe one day all will become clear?





The medication that they force down my throat keeps me light and floaty and making me see things. There is a pink unicorn guarding my bedside, bugsbunny under my bed. Keanu Reeves lying next to me (he hogs the duvet) and Allen Payne, like clock work, constantly show up when I turn on my laptop, leaning to read along while I type my words.



Indeed the typing never stopped but I cant comprehend my present state, The best I can do is blog my past happenings and start to explain what it has been like since arriving here though I seem to forget ..........That is how I feel.



In closing all I can say to you, poor readers, is thanks...no..THANKS...no...Thank you for delving into this existence with me.



I just wish they rotated Allen Payne with a few others. (Allen I know you are reading, so Djimon, Will Smith, Julian McMahon and Josh Hartnett immediately springs to mind, so get on it pronto!



For now, thank you for reading and good night. x 



p.s: Sometimes I wake up from this dream!

Pictures I found hilarious: only for those who have a quirky sense of humour

A lil sumthing about me

I apologise to have been missing in action so many things came up recently. Will blog about the more interesting events in the future.

Right now I am in my 'lady of leisure' mode, on the sofa, sipping on chianti and really tired so am keeping it light and will just say a bit about myself and I also want to know a little about you as well, that is if you do not mind :-)

Okay me first...



first of all, my fashion style is a bit..er..uncoventional as you can see from the picture above...:P but I digress

Who am I? Me'mena
What do I love to do? I love to write

Personality: could be a tad psycho a mix of Sanguine Melancholic but Choleric when I have deadlines

Level of insanity: High,very very high

Likes: Intelligence

Greatest wish: For all men and women to have goodwill for one another

Abilities: I can make YOU happy. Its uncanny but trust me!

Weaknesses: Injustice

Strengths: Loyalty

Peculiarity:I see beauty,humour, tragedy, love,passion in almost every single thing!

Will continue some other time, please help yourself to some sangria
there is enough right here.. and tell me a lil bit about you

See you soon :)