#Where is Ebenezer Obey from?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

It Has to Be

For @amonthofwhump 12 Days of Whumpmas, Day 5: Ebenezer Scrooge |Power Outage | Time Loop | Overworked Whumpee | Comfort: Snuggling by the Fire

CW: Intimate whumper, past drugging and noncon, references to captivity and scars

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

As always, Jax (and the mentioned Alfie) belong to @comfy-whumpee and are used with their input and permission.

-

Finley White is getting so tired of looking at Savvie Marcoset’s face. At least during the prepping stages, it’s mostly through videos and photographs. They can turn it off, turn away, take a break. 

But they’re still tired of seeing it.

Not half so tired, they muse, as their client must be.

“Miss Savvie Marcoset, is it really you?! How are you?!”

“It’s Mrs. Savvie Marcoset,” She corrects, prim and proper. Savvie has her hands folded in her lap, her hair pulled back with a clip. The shadows under her eyes are the only sign that she is, at the time this was recorded, someone frantically searching for her missing captive. In a long off the shoulder black sweater and leggings, she seems relaxed and happy. She smiles, gentle and sweet. It looks utterly sincere. “I am married, you know.”

She holds up a hand and waggles her fingers, showing off the brilliance of her diamond ring. 

The person wearing the camera device gasps with audible delight. “Did you really finally get him to put a ring on it? Gosh, Sav, I thought he would never propose!” 

“I know that voice,” Finley White's client says, leaning forward. He frowns, his knee bouncing beneath the table. “I remember she was a twat.”

The corner of Finley’s mouth twitches, a smile they can't quite suppress. “Virginia Marshall, goes by Jennie. Went to college with Savannah Marcoset. The Marshalls were longtime friends with the Marcosets, close enough to be trusted. Jennie was facing some low-level charges of her own and agreed to help build this case as part of a plea deal.”

“Twat and coward.” He snorts. “Sounds about right.”

“Well, technically I was the one who got down on one knee,” Savvie says. There’s something strange in her eyes, like always - she looks with too much intensity. She’s hiding it well here, acting with the best of them, but Finley’s been staring at her face for so long that they can see right through it even so. 

Finley saw Savvie Marcoset’s true talents on the stand, the first time. They had watched with surprised dismay as she charmed the jury, seeing how she could channel her intensity and terrifying focus into overwhelming charisma before an audience.

“Oh, that’s so modern,” The woman wearing the hidden camera gushes, cooing over the ring. “Did you write your own vows, too?”

Savvie laughs, abashed. “No, no. Traditional. I always wanted a traditional wedding. So did he, really, he's an old-fashioned kind of guy. You should have seen him blush during 'love, honor, and obey.'"

The noise Finley's client makes in reaction to that statement is indescribable.

“Traditional vows... makes sense. You’ve always been the romantic type. Where is that lucky duck today, anyway? The hubby? He isn't with you?”

Savvie's smile doesn't even flicker. “He’s at home with our babies. He loves being a stay-at-home dad, you know? It’s all he ever wanted to be.” 

In reality, at the moment this video was recorded, the escaped Jax Gallagher was in his father's apartment, likely pretending to sleep, but at least not sleeping next to her. His children would have been nearby, safe from Savvie's cruelty for the first time.

You’d never know anyone was gone. She's as good an actress as she is at playing music, when she wants to be. And she is clearly pretending that absolutely nothing is wrong. 

“Oh, well, bring him to my house sometime, yeah? Let me get a look at him and those little ones.”

“He’s… very private,” Savvie says, low and soft. She gives a little roll of her eyes. “Because of me being, you know, known, and he isn't from a famous family or anything… we like to keep his name out of things. His family is so toxic, plus you know how gossipy the press is about him…”

“Him? Him who?” The informant plays dumb. 

“You know… My ex..."

“Oh, your ex Bastian Brighthall?” 

“Ha! No, no. I just mean… you know. Since… prison. Which, like, can no one become rehabilitated in this country? Let me live! I’m a law-abiding citizen now, and, and a wife and mother! You have no idea what it's like just trying to raise babies these days..."

She’s so deeply offended. The informant pretends to be offended, too, and lets Savvie change the subject, turn it around to how hard it is to be a woman just trying to live out her happily ever after. It’s masterful, how well she can lead someone along and away from what she doesn’t want to share. 

Finley White’s eyelid twitches where they sit at a table, watching this conversation unfold on a television bolted to the wall on the opposite side of the room. Beside them, their client has lapsed back into stony silence, his jaw set, arms crossed. He doesn't look at Savannah Marcoset’s sweet and smiling face, not directly. 

He’s tense enough that Finley worries, more than a little, that one of his tendons will simply snap from the stress. He knows - he knew long before Finley said it out loud - what a farce this is, how utterly unnecessary. He knows better than anyone that Ms. Marcoset could have pleaded guilty and saved them all this expense and trouble. The evidence is thoroughly stacked against her. She has no way out, but it doesn’t stop her from throwing out every delay tactic she has. 

Jax had been the first one to vocalize the point of Savannah’s strange game, during their meeting with him and his father after the arrest. She’ll drag it out, make it take as long as possible, he’d predicted, sitting in his father's cozy living room in his apartment in England. Finley had flown to him, once again - they had sworn to him once, after the first trial’s conclusion, that they wouldn’t ask him to fly back to America unless they had to.  

He’d still been visibly recovering, a man made of shadows who sat with his little girl and her enormous curly hair clinging in wide-eyed silence to him. He’d held onto her just as tightly, as if even Finley might simply take her away if he let go for even a second. She’ll make it fucking miserable for everyone, just to get at me. She always fucking does. 

Language, Jax’s father had admonished in a distant and fond way. That's one for the chocolate jar. Or two, maybe. 

Jax’s child, who was so perfectly silent Finley kept forgetting she was there, had spoken for the first time. I don't mind, Daddy, she had said. She was so soft Finley barely made out the words. I know that’s grown up words. You don't have to do the jar. You can get chocolates. 

Both men had smiled, then - one with open affection for his grandchild, one with a faint shift of lips that vanished as soon as Finley took it in. 

Sorry, kiddo, Jax had murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. More for you, then, yeah? Finley had wondered, then, what it must feel like to love a child - to love someone that much - who only existed because of this kind of assault? 

Jax had been angrier, or at least more obviously so, the first time they worked with him. After the first escape. During the first trial. The anger that had still flared up then was now a smoking skeletal forest, where you could feel heat against your palm when you laid it against the trunk of a tree, but not even embers were left to glow. 

Are the little girl and the baby boy the first green things to grow afterward? Or just… bones, blackened stones weighing him down? 

Shit, they need a drink. All their poetry electives from their own college days come out in florid metaphors on days like this one. 

More than a drink, they need  about sixteen hours of sleep. Not that Jax doesn't need both things more than they do, going through all this again, and again… they’d put it off as long as they could, but finally they’d had to ask him to fly here one more time. 

This will be the last time. Finley White will stake their career on Savannah Marcoset never seeing daylight as a free woman again, or they’ll quit and take up needlepoint or whatever it is lawyers who drop the ball that badly do. 

They failed him, once, in their own mind. That it could happen to him again feels like their fault, their responsibility, somehow. 

Jax had been angrier, before, but less determined than he is now. He had found it much harder, then, not to look at Savvie Marcoset. As if he couldn't break himself of having all his thoughts centered on keeping her from punishing him. The way he had seemed frightened when they took her away, after the verdict, had been painful to watch. 

Now he simply doesn't look at her on the screen at all. 

Finley picks up the remote, scratching a fingernail over its smooth plastic surface.  

Would it have been better, if they had managed to make it so she never walked free? It would have meant no second time held prisoner and therefore no children. Obviously it would have been better. Would he have chosen it, though, if he knew… chosen not to ever meet the quiet little girl and boisterous baby boy… maybe he would. Probably he would. 

They would never ask. 

In the present, Finley keeps their thoughts to themself. They lean forward, briefly pausing the video. “There’s a few minutes of going back and forth on this, Ms. Marcoset describing a… well, a very fanciful personal idea of the alleged wedding and honeymoon… I’m going to fast forward past it.”

“Thank fuck,” Jax mutters, scratching at the back of his head. His fingers twitch, involuntary, and he drops his hand quickly. 

He didn't tremble like that the first time, either. That’s a lasting effect of the shock collar he’d been wearing when he turned up on his father's doorstep after running away with the kids. He hides the scars beneath scarves and Finley pretends they don't see them even when they do. 

Those scars feel like visible evidence: Finley White fucked up, and here’s living proof. They’d gotten the conviction, decent prison time, parole within a limited area after release… and it hadn't been enough. 

They’ve gone over and over the case, when they can't sleep or think about anything else. They had done a good job. They and a single paralegal, alone, had taken on the Marcoset team of defense lawyers and wiped the floor with them. 

Jax seemed to think they had done a good job. Good enough that when he ran this time, he’d called them as soon as he was ready, anyway. He could have gotten a different lawyer, but he had called them, and trusted them, to put her away again. 

They just have to make sure it sticks this time. For life, bar the door, throw away the goddamn key. 

It was another thing Jax said first, although not in so many words - that if she ever left prison again, Jax almost certainly wouldn't survive it. He’d been hunched over a beer, that first in-person meeting at his father's place. Finley was still jet-lagged from getting on the first flight out, and nearly asleep on the sofa. He hadn't brought it up until the kids and his father were safely asleep. 

If she gets out again, or… comes h-here… that's it. He hadn't looked up at them, just stared down at his beer. The kids vanish first, probably. Dead or disappeared. Whatever she thinks will fuck me up worse. Actually, probably disappeared and then dead later once she thinks-... once she’s made me sorry. Then me, after them.

Then you? Last?

Yeah. Disappeared. Or dead. Or both. But she’ll go after them first. She'll-... He drank half the beer in three long swallows, wiped a hand over his face, and then exhaled and looked over at them. She can't hurt my kids. Okay? She can't. 

Finley had nodded, and lifted their own beer in a kind of grim salute. She won't. We nail her to the wall this time, Jax. I promise.

Fuck yeah. His expression stayed flat, but he clinked his beer glass against theirs and that was that, he was Finley White's once and future client one more time. 

Even though the case is open and shut, they’re throwing everything they’ve got at this, leaving nothing on the table. Leaving nothing to chance or luck. They have a promise to keep. 

“Our informant wore this camera to get an idea of what Mrs. Marcoset was thinking, how she was playing your disappearance from her life. It was recorded before she was arrested,” Finley explains. On the screen, Savvie's rushed dramatics are silent, her hands moving in gestures that constantly flash the ring. Her smile is absolutely radiant. She has always been a beautiful woman, layered over the cruelty beneath. “We probably won't need this at court-”

“Then why are we watching it?” He asks abruptly. Not angry or hostile, just wanting to get it all over with. 

They know the feeling. 

“Because I thought you might want to see this part,” They say, and hit play, the video shifting back into regular speed, the casual buzz and clink of the restaurant around them kicking back in. 

“-three years old,” Savvie is saying. She is every inch the proud and loving mother, pulling out her phone and then turning it around to show the informant. “Born in… in May, named after my grandmother. Isn't she beautiful? Doesn't she look just like me?”

“This was after I left?” Jax frowns at the photo Savvie has pulled up - of Jax holding his daughter back when she was a baby who already had too much hair and eyes too big for her face. Jax, his gaunt frame dressed in slightly oversized designer clothes to hide bruises and his unreliable access to food, is looking at the camera with a false and slightly hazy-seeming smile. 

“Yes,” Finley answers, nodding. “This conversation would be maybe… six months after that.” 

Jax’s eyes narrow. “That photo’s of Izzy as a baby, for one thing. For another… her birthday isn't in fucking May. Jesus. I didn't know the day, she never would tell me, but I knew what season. Also, Iz was four when we got back home, and she would have turned five by… whenever this is. We got her a fucking cake, my dad and I, when she turned five."

“You are absolutely certain that-”

“Yes,” He answers them, voice flat and cold as paper on stone.

“You may have to testify about that, Jax. Good evidence of a lack of connection to Isabeh-”

“Izzy,” He corrects automatically. 

“Right. Sorry. I’ve been elbow-deep in legal docs all day, everything is full legal names. This video might not be worth much during the criminal trial, but for the civil case regarding the children’s living arrangements-”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll testify. Yeah.” He snorts. “Also, I'm fucking drugged in that photo she flashed around. If that matters.”

“You are?” That's a surprise to them. They turn to rewind the video back to when the photo is held up, pausing it, scanning it over again. The slight smile, the way he gripped tight to the girl… almost white-knuckled… 

“Yeah. High as hell and terrified I'll drop her. Scared that that's her game this time. Get me to let Iz slip through my arms and then get goddamn mad at me for not being careful enough. I got her to stop putting shit in my drink when the kids were awake eventually, but she was still doing it, then.”

He isn't casual with how he drops these pieces of abject horror into conversation - no, Jax wields this information like a riddle, or a test. How you respond is to pass or to fail, and Finley knows him well enough by now to be aware that very few people come back from failure. 

So they nod, and wait to see if he plans to offer anything more. 

He looks over at them, then back at the photo frozen in time on the screen. “Had to tell her I liked that shit, just… you know. After the kids went down to sleep.” He meets Finley’s gaze head on, staring them down. 

But he knows them well enough that he knows he never has to spell any of it out, not anymore. 

So they nod again. “And it worked?” 

“Yeah. Mostly.” He looks away. Finley never knows for sure if they’ve passed the test, not until he keeps talking. “I could put her off with asking for it to happen later. Savvie forgets shit. Half the time by the time she went to sleep, she didn't remember she even brought it up.” 

Half the time. 

Finley looks back at the video, and hits the play button. Savvie is back to happily chattering about her perfect husband and perfect children, sitting in a café months after the bruised, battered, scarred man and children in question had escaped her grasping fingers and shock collars and cruelty, but before there was enough to bring her in. 

She had to have known they were coming for her, by this point. And yet she pretended everything was completely fine, that nothing had happened. She was either so sure her family would throw enough weight around to fix it for her in the end, or… 

“She’s completely out of her mind,” Finley whispers. Not that they hadn't said it before. But this… this is different. “She just. Can't deal with it, and so she just doesn't even acknowledge the problem exists. Jax-”

“Yeah, I know how she is. Lucky you, you didn't get that shit up close and personal like I did. This isn't even the worst of her bullshit.”

“Looking at her, you’d never know it.” Finley sits back, not allowing themself to slump. If they can pull this off, there's a four hundred dollar bottle of stupidly priced bourbon they’re going to buy to celebrate. “Look at her. No sign whatsoever of anything but happily ever after. You ran. It’s been months since she last saw you or your children… and she’s calm as can be. She doesn't even know where you are."

“She probably knew where I was.” Jax shrugs, outwardly unbothered. “I mean, she’s a stupid shitsnob, but she knows I'd go to my dad. She knew where I was gonna go if I got away from her.”

“She didn't go for you, though, didn't try to recapture you. At the time, if she knew…”

Jax gives them the stare again. “I know exactly what she did. She freaked out when we were gone, called her bastard shitstain uncle for help. He had people hunting me, until we got to the border. We barely managed to keep out of sight of them. We had to cross the border… we had to.” 

“Right, because in the UK… you’re, uh-” They hesitate. 

Jax prickles when they hesitate. His eyes narrow, and Finley straightens their posture, refusing to wilt before that stare. “You can say it,” He says, voice flat. “Fucking famous for being kidnapped, right? There were programmes about that shit. Fucking journalists. And I bet once we made it over the border, dear Uncle Isaac told her he wasn't going to risk it anymore, to pack her shit and go home, act normal. Be seen so she could act like she never left. See if they could wait me out.” 

Sometimes they forget how watchful Jax is, how well he understands not just Savannah Marcoset herself but the parade of Marcoset family members who treated him like Savvie's toy or worse. He didn't understand it all that well the first time.

Another thing he only has to know because they couldn't keep him safe.

“Right. But that's practical... from a criminal perspective. That's not… this.” They look over at the screen again, frozen once more on Savvie's cheerful, winning smile. 

“No.” Jax’s knee is bouncing again. There has always been a hum of energy in him, but even that is held more inside him now. Because they hadn't hammered their case hard enough. 

It just hadn't been enough. 

It has to be enough this time. 

“Jax… we have to show them that Savannah Marcoset. Not the one in this video, but the one who incapacitated you to make it easier for her to harm or control you. She is going to want them to see the act, try to get parole on the table, try to get at least limited access to the children-”

“Which she won't fucking get.” For just a second, the layer of self-protective hostility drops. It’s not panic, not visibly, but it’s close. “I told you, first thing I fucking said, she can't get at my kids. The whole reason I'm fucking doing this is to keep them safe. She can't get her hands on my fucking kids.” 

“No,” They say, voice firm, and meet his eyes. He scoots slightly back, arms crossed again, staring at them fixedly with his chin tipped slightly down. They watch him right back. “She won't. We talked about it, I remember. No access, full stop. No presents, no letters, she gets no photos and no updates. Absolutely nothing. Complete termination of parental rights. Complete. No exceptions."

“And prison for-fucking-life, and no parole.”

“No chance. It’s going to be rough, Jax, I won't lie to you. She’s going to put on a show, and we are going to need to systematically dismantle it. Take away all her charm and let them see who you saw, day in and day out.”

He nods, jaw set. Stubborn and determined, and maybe the fire still burns down in there somewhere. His smile is so genuine they nearly wonder if it's real. “Good. Yeah. Uh, how, though?” 

They look back over at Savvie, the face filling the screen. Savvie will be magnetic, just like the first time. Not so young, now, not able to play the innocent girl led astray. But she'll play all the greatest hits of sincerity, earnestness, contrition… Jax, by contrast, is all rough edges and bristling quiet. He won't charm anyone so readily. But his story will be what actually happened. 

They just need to prove it. 

“I had a couple more recordings for us to look at today,” They say, thinking, mind spinning. “But they aren’t urgent. Let’s break early, you head back to see what your little ones are up to, and I'll start drafting an outline of what we prove and how we prove it. I have some ideas. We’ll reconvene here tomorrow at 8 am.”

“Sounds good, yeah.” Jax shifts, restless, ready to get out of the room with Savvie’s face still on the wall. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to talk about some… difficult stuff, Jax. Make sure you take it easy tonight.”

He looks at them, then just turns away, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Right. Yeah. Stuff about the kids, or the rape?”

It’s a test again. 

God, how Finley hopes they never fail this man, not this time. Not when they couldn't keep him as safe as he deserved to be. 

“Just the outline,” They say, casual as can be. “But.. both. All of it. No details yet. But later-”

“Yeah. I’ll be back at 8. Ish.” He leaves before they can say another word, and they sit back, staring after him. 

They have mountains of documents to finish sorting through, and a man carrying so much cruelty in his head that if he opens his mouth on the stand, a waterfall might come rushing out. He's covered in scars from Savvie's abuse, has two kids that are living evidence of assault. They have a traumatized little girl in therapy multiple times a week. They have Jax’s devotion to his son and daughter compared to Savvie not even knowing what time of year Izzy was born in. 

They have so much. 

It has to be enough. 

[afrobeatsindacity]

ADEKUNLE GOLD IS CONSTANTLY EVOLVING

Adekunle Gold, the Lagos-born prolific singer, is one of the handful of Nigerian artists who can boast of a lasting presence in the highly competitive space that is the country's music industry. His was a journey of talent, consistency, invention and reinvention.

He was born Adekunle Kosoko, a member of the royal Kosoko family of Lagos Island, so when he chose to follow his passion in music, the name Gold readily appealed to him. Days spent riding to school with his father while they played Ebenezer Obey and King Sunny Ade, as well as lullabies sung by his aunt at bedtime, planted a love for music in the young Adekunle. With time, his love for listening to music spurred him to create his own. Like many other budding artists, he cultivated his talents first by joining the junior choir in his church and later, by forming a band with a close friend, Michael Bakare, before deciding to pursue a career as a solo artist. Michael remains a major musical pillar of Adekunle Gold’s career, his songwriting and production credits can be found as recently as Adekunle's latest album.

Nigeria's first introduction to the artist, however, was through his creative work as a photo editor. Prior to the release of “Sade” in December 2015, Gold had been given the title of 'King of Photoshop' for his creative editing of his images on pictures of actress Tonto Dike, OAP, Toolz and especially afrobeats queen, Tiwa Savage. A young Adekunle Gold had finished school with a diploma in Arts and Industrial Design and was putting his degree to good use, doing graphic design work for a number of YBNL artists, including Viktoh, Lil Kesh and even street-pop legend Olamide.

In 2014, Adekunle Gold released “Sade”, a cover of One direction's “Story of my Life”, and based upon a real life Sade who had turned his affections down. As the song gained ground, Pheelz, YBNL's in-house producer, saw there was more To Adekunle Gold's creativity than visual arts, and after conversations with label huncho, Olamide, Adekunle Gold was unveiled as a YBNL artist in March 2015. Then, he got a chance at a proper debut single, and "Orente" was born; a folksy Yoruba-supported love ballad, featuring distinct Yoruba instrumentation, which would grow to become his signature style. He followed this up with “Pick up”, which amped up production for a Juju-influenced song that would be an excellent fit for a live band.

All these built up to the release of his first studio album in July 2016, Gold that featured successes such as "Work", "Ariwo Ko", and another all time classic, "No forget", a duet with Simi, a friend and fellow artist who had previously mixed and mastered songs for him. His debut album was a critically acclaimed success, peaking at no. 7 on the Billboard World Album Chart.

His next studio album, About 30, was released in 2018 after exchanging amicable farewells with YBNL. He assembled a team of instrumentalists into a live band, named the 79th Element (Gold), and headed by Michael Bakare. As a result the album drew chiefly from his unique upbeat trad-style music which he christened Urban Highlife, and it housed a number of memorable songs like the energetic "Money", the evocative "Ire" and the sombre "Fame".

Until 2019 Adekunle Gold had operated firmly within the boundaries of his self-styled Afro Urban genre, where live instruments could meet with intoned delivery to channel some of the essence of Yoruba Juju music in a more modern setting. For the next step, though, it was time for an artistic refresh, and to achieve it, he will have to sacrifice some of his folksy essence for better mainstream appeal. And so he braided his boyish afro into a macho cornrow, while he discarded the Adire shirts for brightly coloured jackets and flowing kimonos, left unbuttoned to show his new buff physique, completing his look with tinted glasses and loose fitting pants. His switch in music was a lot less acute. For "Before You Wake Up", his first solo single of 2019, he maintained a similar delivery but production was different, employing more studio-made Afrobeats rather than the live drums and keys he was more popular with. Also subtle was his use of English and Pidgin for the entirety of the single, in the past Adekunle Gold had relied chiefly on Yoruba.

It was in 2020 that he properly donned the artistic personality he would take for his next era. First came "Jore", a duet with Kizz Daniel that leaned into Kizz's brand of casual afropop that was backed by catchy lyrics and a flowing beat. Then he released "Something Different", which was as it was named, a continual of the sonic detour he was making towards the mainstream. In mid 2020, “AG Baby" was released, the manifesto for his artistic vision; on the track he alludes to being the "street boy popping on the mainstream shit". “AG Baby’ was homonymous with his new persona, and on his next album, “Afro-Pop Vol. 1”, he delved properly into who he was now and what to expect of him. A song like “Okay” handled this orientation nicely, as he spun the mid-tempo pop groove into a song deriding his haters.

While AG Baby was morphing into the popstar, Adekunle Gold was settling into family life. His marriage to Simi was for many a bolt from the blue, but insiders into the couple’s lives knew they had been an item even before either of them made their debuts in the industry. Simi had produced, as well as mixed and mastered a chunk of Adekunle Gold’s Gold album, and Adekunle has gone on record to credit her with helping him find his music style. The pair had collaborated across a number of tracks over the years, each time bringing amazing chemistry that most fans did not know was the product of real life love they shared. On January 17th they released “Promise”, a tribute to their new union and the first official announcement of it. A little over a year later, in May 2021, “Happy Birthday”was released; a love letter to their daughter, Adejare on her first birthday.

2021 also saw him release three successful singles that would appear on his next album, “Catch me if You Can”, “Sinner” and “It Is What It Is” followed the laid back, less-is-more delivery of his newly perfected style. But “High”, featuring industry heavyweight Davido, was a different dish altogether; an Amapiano heavy hit, foreshadowing another shedding, or perhaps more accurately, an extra layering of personality that would lead AG Baby to give way to Tio Tequila. The lover boy Adekunle who had withstood the transition from Adekunle Gold to AG Baby evolved to another man for whom “Love is not enough”.

His latest project, Tequila Ever After, is named after this new persona, and here he slows down his Afropop cadences to take in parts of Dancehall and RnB. By far his biggest project, Adekunle Gold assembled RnB megastars like Pharrell Williams and Khalid as well as budding Nigerian street stars like Zinoleesky and Odumodublvck. He has already hit the charts with two singles, “Ogaranya” and “Party No Dey Stop”, so he will be hopeful others can quickly follow suit. More importantly, though, he will hope his new project, and the persona he introduces with it, can significantly advance his global intentions. Adekunle Gold has described his latest project as a celebration of his wins so far.

With a solid discography encompassing five successful projects, a recently bagged contract with an international label in Def Jam Records and a career about to reach the 10 year mark, a celebration is much needed and well deserved. As the artist readies himself to consolidate his position in the Nigerian market and expand his wings even further beyond the shores of the country, he can take a shot of Tequila and toast to his wins so far, because it only gets better from here.

This article was written by Afrobeats City Contributor Ezema Patrick - @ezemapatrick (Twitter)

Afrobeats City doesn’t own the right to the images - image source: Instagram - @Adekunlegold

[theprayerfulword]

February 11

Proverbs 2:11 Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you.

1 Samuel 7:12 Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

1 Chronicles 28:9 …for the Lord searches all hearts, and understands every intent of the thoughts. If you seek Him, He will let you find Him…

Galatians 6:9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Colossians 3:12 Since God chose you to be the holy people He loves… clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.

Luke 9:23 Then He said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me.’

May you not grow weary in waiting, for impatience with God opens the door to many temptations, but tarry till He speaks, occupy until He comes, serve until you are renewed and strengthened, rising up in the joy of His Presence. Exodus 32

May your prayer to God and your purpose in life be to glorify His name, for when that is your sole goal, your heart's desire is aligned with the multitudes of the heavenly host. Exodus 32

May you remain attentive to the voice of the Lord, not engaging in actions or choices which distract your heart from the affections of God, so that you may hear the call and respond with alacrity when the time comes to obey. Exodus 32

May you fully rely on the grace of God, expressed in the mercy found through Christ Jesus, Who alone brings atonement for sin and Whose pardon bring peace, even as He continually today intercedes on your behalf, for Moses himself, though he made no excuses and pleaded for mercy, could not fully turn away God's wrath. Exodus 32

May the Lord guide you clearly along the way He wants you to travel so that you will understand Him and walk acceptably before Him as a friend who has found favor with Him. Exodus 33

May the Lord be pleased with you and teach you His ways so you may know Him and continue to find favor before Him. Exodus 33

May the Lord Himself go with you where He sends you and give you success so that all will know that you have found favor with God and are different from all other people on the face of the earth. Exodus 33

May the Presence of God go with you when He sends you where you are going, for how will anyone know that God is pleased with you unless He goes with you; nothing else will distinguish you from any other person on the face of the earth. Exodus 33

Do not be satisfied, My child, with that which you have, though you have received it from My Word through the revelation of My Spirit. Do not cling to one thing, My dear one, for I have much more to give. Do not resist the learning and training, even though it takes you from what you have become successful in and proficient with. Embrace that which I lead you into through My Word and by My Spirit, for I am bringing you to new skills and fresh knowledge, additional gifts and deeper revelation, wherein you can again develop confidence and experience, for there are still more things you need to do and yet much ministry which My Body requires. My treasure house is wide open to you, My love, and the vast array of precious truths and effective gifts are available to you. Be willing to receive from My Spirit the adorning that He brings to you. As you work on constructing My temple, understand that you will move from a shovel to dig a trench, to a saw to shape a foundation form, to a mixer for the concrete, to a trowel for brick and mortar, to a hammer to nail wood, to a paintbrush to beautify the appearance. Be prepared, always, for the newness of change and the challenge of freshness in My kingdom.

May you learn the precaution of distrusting your own unregenerate heart when it seeks its own safety and protection, and through the bitterness of failure and sorrow for sin, learn from experience to desire the modesty, humility and compassion of Christ in order to be useful to others. Matthew 26

May you see that both Peter and Judas were filled with remorse at their betrayal of Jesus; Peter wept bitterly alone before God in repentance, was strengthened as a result, and never denied Him again, whereas Judas confessed his sin to the chief priests who cared nothing for his remorse and left him in his despair. Matthew 27

May all the joys of the godly well up from your heart in praise to the Lord, for it is right to praise Him and make joyous melodies of praise, composing new songs of praise to God. Psalm 33

May you sing to the Lord a new song, playing skillfully, and shouting for joy, for it is fitting for the upright to praise Him and the righteous to sing to Him joyfully. Psalm 33

May you trust the Lord and be filled by His love with all that is just and good, for all God's words are right and everything He does is worthy of our trust; the earth is filled with His tender love. Psalm 33

May you freely and willingly join everyone in the fear of the Lord as you stand in awe before Him, for when He merely spoke, the world began, and appeared at His command, and with a breath He can scatter the plans of all who oppose Him, but His plan stands forever for His intentions are the same for every generation. Psalm 33

May you listen to godly counsel and not refuse it, so that you may be wise. Proverbs 8:33

May you be so anxious to have wisdom from God that you watch daily at the “gate” and wait outside of His “residence,” for whoever finds wisdom, finds life and wins approval from the Lord. Proverbs 8:34-35

[dear-mrs-otome]

Ribbons & Bows - SLBP (Mitsunari)

Fandom: SLBP Pairing: Mitsunari x MC Rating: No Warnings Summary: What do you get when the perfectly imperfect neighbor and coworker finds out our intrepid heroine can’t wrap a gift well to save her life? Some reluctant help, and perhaps even more reluctant revelations.... ( A quick bit of Christmas-fluff, for a dear friend’s exchange gift. (Hence the named MC) I waffled on even posting this, so far past the season, but figure someone out there might enjoy it too! 2.5k+ words)

She’d recognize that sound anywhere. The sharp, staccato rapping at her door that carried over the sweet croonings of Bing Crosby singing about a White Christmas - too fierce to be anything called as soft as a knock. She knew exactly who it would be on the other side too, and tried her level best not to let her good mood slip away as she straightened up from tweaking the last folds on the gift she was wrapping.

The apartment was small, small enough she had to weave around the boxes of ornaments and decor she’d pulled out of her meager storage on her path to the door. Not so small though that she made it there before a second salvo of pounding followed the opening shots already fired.

“Mitsunari.” She didn’t even have to wait to finish swinging the door open before she greeted the man on the other side. It was already a given who it was. Neighbor, co-worker, thorn in her side...pick a label and run with it. They all fit her particularly handsome cross to bear.

The man in question shook ravenwing bangs out from behind his glasses with an irritated toss of his head, all the better to fix her with a baleful glare. “October.”

Her gaze slid instinctively away from that frigid stare uncomfortably, but it wasn’t much of an improvement given its traitorous preponderance to travel the length of his neatly trimmed frame any time she didn’t keep it firmly locked. A ‘swimmer’s build’, as Jace from the mailroom always drooled aloud. Lean and purposeful, as immaculate in button up and trousers as always - never so much as a spot, or tuck, or crease out of place. 

He was hot...especially for an accountant. She had to give her ovaries that. Too bad his personality had about all the warmth of a winter solstice atop Everest, and even less of anything resembling charm.

Neither of which had ever stopped her heart from doing an odd lurch whenever he met her eyes though.

He didn’t wait for her to dredge up any reply. “Surely you are aware that it is - “ He made a show of checking the ever-present watch on his wrist for emphasis. “Eleven at night, on December the first. So why then, in God’s name, am I being forced to listen to Christmas music at jetliner decibels through my wall?”

“It’s not at ‘jetliner’, Ebenezer Scrooge,” she shot back, hackles immediately up whenever this man was around. 

“It’s loud enough to get the attention of Ms. Takemura above you I would wager though. You’re lucky she didn’t call the super on you.” He made a small dismissive snort, before his gaze wandered down to the package she had forgotten she still held in her other hand. His eyes narrowed sharply and she tried, to no avail, to hide the misshapen mess behind her back. “What in God’s name is that? Is that supposed to be a present?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to be a present.” A good part of her wanted to be huffier about her reply...but the other larger part knew it was a sad excuse for a wrapping job, and she couldn’t stifle the sigh that slipped free before she’d given it permission. “It’s supposed to be for Hideyoshi too. I should have just taken the store clerk up on her offer to wrap it for me. Nothing like looking incompetent in front of your boss.”

She could feel him studying her for a long moment, though she didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze. Nearly jumping when he thrust his hand out towards her, gesturing with it impatiently. “Give it here.”

Pure reflex had her obeying his chilly command, and when it was in his grasp Mitsunari turned the sorry thing over as he examined it, a moue of distaste curling his lips down as if he were holding a dead mouse rather than a box and some scraps of paper that were clearly suffering delusions of grandeur.

“How did you even manage this?” He couldn’t have looked less impressed if he tried. “You do understand the basic concepts of geometry, do you not?”

“I-”

Her protest was cut short when he brushed past her and strode brazenly into her apartment, azure eyes taking the chaos all in with a few measured glances. “Scissors. Paper. Tape.”

“What?” She knew he was speaking legitimate words - they just made only the barest attempt at coherency.

“Scissors. Paper. Tape.” He repeated himself, louder and slower, as if speaking to someone hard of hearing. “You can’t give this to Hideyoshi as it is. It would be an insult.”

He took a seat at her sofa as if it were his own home, placing the package on the coffee table before him and looking at her so expectantly she was already gathering the requested items, dumping them on the table unceremoniously - more than a little bemused at the odd turn of events. Seeing her frosty co-worker ensconced comfortably in her living room was hardly the way she’d envisioned her Friday night going when she’d woken up that day.

He let out a small sound of approval, stripping her package of its sorry wrappings carefully, before reaching past the gaudy rolls full of penguins in Santa hats and kittens wrapped in tinsel for a classic striped pattern. For lack of anything better to do, she plopped to a seat beside him to watch as he worked - reluctantly admiring his deft, well-shaped hands as he set about measuring a new piece of wrapping for her box. 

“It’s not that I’m messy or don’t care,” she said finally into the silence, both to fill it and to soothe her wounded pride. “It just doesn’t seem to matter how carefully I line things up or space them out. They always end up too short or too long, too wide or not wide enough, the tape sticking everywhere…”

“Again - simple geometry.” Mitsunari’s gaze slid her way archly. “Not a skillset I would imagine is in high demand in HR though.”

She pulled a face at his bent head, hating that she couldn’t argue.

It seemed only moments before he’d finished, an impeccably squared box slid along the table towards her, freshly wrapped. He’d even done the thing where he’d managed to line up the stripes along the cut edges too, to her amazement.

“That’s...wow.” She looked up from turning it this way and that to shoot him a beaming smile, admittedly impressed. “Two hundred percent improved!”

She wondered if she only imagined his slight fidget. 

“A two hundred percent improvement is a mathematical impossibility,” he frowned. 

“Yes. I’m aware.” She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “Have you never heard of hyperbole?”

“Intentional exaggeration as a rhetorical device?” he replied. She was about to shake her head, until she saw what looked like the faintest of dry sparks hiding behind his deadpan expression. “No, never.”

“Probably not a skillset I would imagine is in high demand in the finance department,” she lobbed back, and enjoyed the way his lips twitched faintly, as if stifling the urge to smile.

The faux-leather of her cheap sofa creaked as he turned to eye the equally sorry pile stacked beneath her cheery little Christmas tree, its lights winking happily in blissful ignorance of the crimes in repose at its feet. “And what are those?”

“The rest of my gifts.” She bit back the ‘obviously’ that tried to tack itself to the end of that sentence. She wouldn’t ruin this rare detente with Hideyoshi Holding’s prickly CFO just for the thrill of a cheap shot.

“Well...hand them over too. No need for you to embarrass yourself more than you already manage to on the regular.” He arched a sardonic brow at her. “I trust you can be relied on for something as simple as nametags and a stick-on bow, no?

“I think I can manage that much.” It struck her belatedly, as the absurdity of the entire situation wore off slightly, that she was being a terrible hostess - even if an impromptu one. “Would you...like a drink? I have water or tea...or I just opened a bottle of wine.”

Why had she said that? Offering a man alcohol, at practically midnight. Oh, God, it sounded absurdly forward, or hopeful, or...something. 

“Wine would be fine,” he replied, to her genuine surprise.

She stood and poured two glasses from the open bottle of table red sitting on her small kitchen counter, sipping one cautiously as she handed the other to him and retook her seat.

He accepted it, and then gestured with it to the seasonal trappings decorating her apartment, a small frown creasing the space between his brows. “Why is this all up so early?”

“My father loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of year.” She twisted the stem of the wineglass between her fingers restlessly.

He reached silently for the first of the packages she’d nudged closer, making quick work of it as she waited with poised pen and welcomed the familiar bittersweet patina of nostalgia. 

“He always did all the wrapping, because I was so hopeless. Except his own present of course, which amused him to no end. I keep thinking every year, it’ll get easier with him gone. It doesn’t exactly...but I can put these things up and watch our movies, listen to our music, and feel the good outweigh the bad now.”

Mitsunari only nodded slowly. “It sounds as if he would have approved.”

The pile on her side grew larger and his smaller as they worked efficiently through them, until there was only a couple of disasters left. And then Mitsunari picked up a small box - one she recognized all too well.

“Not that one!” 

She startled even herself with her yelp, but Mitsunari seemed utterly unfazed, merely fixing her with a single arcing brow as he held the box above her swiping grasp. “Whyever not, Ms. October?”

“It’s fine as it is, honestly.” She lunged again and he only sat up a bit straighter, her fingers brushing fruitlessly against the crumpled underside. 

“I won’t give it back until you tell me why.” 

He turned it over, looking for a tag, and she rose up onto her knees to make one more desperate attempt - only to watch with a sort of slow-motion horror, almost as if outside her own body, as she lost her balance and sprawled inelegantly across his lap, her cheek planted firmly against an even firmer chest. 

They both froze.

“October.” There was an odd, strained note to his voice. “Why is my name on this gift?”

She wanted to die, there on the spot. The only bright spot about any of this was that the crisp weave of his shirt was cool beneath her flaming face, as she scrambled for an answer. Distracted by the balsam notes of his cologne mingling with the evergreen of her Christmas tree, both tickling her nose and scattering her thoughts. 

How did she tell him it was for all the times she sat down at her table of one, eating dinner by herself, wondering if he was on the other side of her living room wall doing the same thing at that same moment?

How did she tell him it was for all those times at work she felt absurdly proud of herself for managing to earn one of his quicksilver smiles of praise? The times he held a door, or a taxi, or a stack of heavy files unprompted? The times she heard him come home from the office hours after she had, only to arrive the next morning with an inbox of organized reports, no questions asked?

How did she tell him it was for the face of his she glimpsed sometimes, in that split second when the elevator doors opened on him riding by himself as they passed each other in the course of their daily comings and goings, and she caught sight of what she suspected was the real Mitsunari - the man behind the ice and the vitriol and the acid-etched tongue. Far too young to look so forlorn. As if he’d let a mask slip in the close confines of the tiny space, where there was no one around to notice, and hadn’t quite managed to prop it back up again. 

As if it were his default state to look that utterly alone.

“Because I-” 

‘Buy them for all my coworkers’ was how she should finish that sentence, she knew. It was the safe answer, the sane answer. The one that sat like sawdust on her tongue.

And then it died at the slow slide of his hand gently flattening itself against her back, keeping her from pulling away. His palm was rock-steady, but she could feel the faint tremor of his fingers bracketing her spine, and wondered just what that small gesture cost him.

She settled for a truth, if not the truth. The one she scarcely dared admit to herself. “Because I wanted to make you smile.”

“I…” For the first time ever, she heard him at a loss for words, as Mitsunari cleared his throat thickly. “I’ve never gotten a Christmas present before.”

It was that confession that finally got her to lift her head, cheeks still hot as she gaped at him, suddenly terrified she offended him somehow. Suddenly even more terrified that the answer was far worse. “Do you not celebrate?”

“I’m not...opposed to it.” There was still a thread of something wound tightly between his words, making a snare of them that kept her rooted to the spot. Counting the hard beats of his heart wrenched out beneath her hand. Five, ten, a dozen as she waited for the continuation she felt vibrating through him. “I’m just not sure what to make of this.”

She could see as much when she steeled herself to meet his eyes - the blue of them looking lost. Emotion moving in their depths, like the flicker of something great passing beneath arctic ice. No less immense for being half-unseen.

“You can make of it exactly what you want.” It was the closest she could come to putting herself out there, coward that she was. Leaving the door open if she couldn’t manage to take that first step herself. 

She couldn’t miss the unmistakable way his gaze flickered down to her lips, subliming from glacial to the blue center of a flame in an instant. “And if I want more than just that gift?”

“You can have that too.” Her head tipped up expectantly, in clear invitation.

He didn’t need to be told twice, it seemed. There was a moment, a space squeezed between heartbeats where his breath fanned sweetly over her cheek and his nose just brushed hers - a last chance to pull away, before his mouth sealed over hers and she was consumed.

His lips seared hers, his tongue hot like flame as he sought hers out, the faint taste of red wine still clinging to them both. He swallowed down her moan like the finest of vintages, answering with a tiny hungry growl that set her mind blanking. She clung to his shoulders and felt them flex intoxicatingly as he hauled her to straddle his lap, fingers dimpling hard against her thighs and backside until they were cradled together seamlessly. Bodies pressed in a long line from head to curled toe.

She only tore herself away from the fascination of his kiss when the world began to spin, breaking apart long enough to press her forehead to his and stare into the deep water of his gaze, their ragged breathing knotted together.

“Merry Christmas, Mitsunari.”

It was ridiculous, innocuous. Words dredged up for the lack of any higher function on the part of her brain, although the sentiment was heartfelt. 

And it didn’t seem to matter, when he rewarded her with a smile so fragile and fledgling she knew without a doubt it was the first of its kind he’d ever formed, elevating him from beautiful to breathtaking. Her own Yuletide miracle. “Yeah. I think it might be.”

[stephiime]

to look back

August 11, 2021 

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged for #faithwalk, but hopefully I’ve made records of my ebenezers at least somewhere so I can look back on them. Looking back at my own posts has been helpful for me to remember how God has been faithful to make Himself known to me. I can trust that whatever I’m going through right now, whatever hardness of heart, whatever sorrow that causes me to say ‘where are you, God?’, God says He knows me and has never and will not forsake me. 

I’ve been in emotional turmoil since February this year. For several months, I don’t think I could count a day where I didn’t cry, didn’t ask why, didn’t think I’d have the courage or will to live through another day. All the while, it’s hard not to compare, not to think of suffering in small or large doses, not to think of transformation as something that’s supposed to be proportional to the pain. Being reminded that other people suffer also (and I try not to say suffer to a greater degree) is temporarily comforting, but not validating of my own pain. Pain is pain, and Jesus knows this (Heb 4:15). He knows when the journey is too much for us (Elijah, 1 Kings 19). He will wipe away every tear and pain and suffering will be no more (Rev 21); he is our present hope in a world full of brokenness.  

I won’t dive into details, but this year I’ve found myself in the darkest valley I’ve been in so far. I phoned my now therapist with an introduction of “I’m at my lowest point” - maybe dramatic? But not untrue.

Grief, loss, sin - I’m not a fan, however, leading up to my loss, I recall that God has been my Immanuel - God with us. He has been faithful, tender, and gracious to reveal Himself to me through Joseph’s story in the Old Testament, through my mentor, through godly friendships formed in the past year, through unlikely friends, through old friends I’ve lost contact with for some time, through family, through God’s word. 

The decision was made in obedience to a conviction from God. I wrestled with the conviction. It grieved me. It grieved me that we had the freedom to do as we pleased, and yet it would still be within God’s sovereignty. Because then what? Is there right or wrong? It grieved me that there is no right or wrong, but that there was a godly one that the Holy Spirit himself gives me. It grieved me that I had to be the one to decide. It grieved me that the godly choice would be excruciating for me. I was reminded that his sheep know his voice, and I knew I had to make room for God in my life and in his life. 

In my wrestle with the conviction, the prayer changed from “God do you want me to end this or stay in this?” to “but who will protect me, love me, and care for me?”. In my heart, I knew God’s answer was “that has always been me, and he has not been those things for you”. Arguably, no one should be the only source of those things for us … and no one is capable. 

It was not the conflict, the hurtful words, the hurtful actions, the hurtful inaction, the unloving that caused me to come to this decision (as I’m so tempted always now by the devil to believe); it was the conviction.  

It’s just a little difficult to recall those good things I learned about God now because my mind is clouded by grief. My desire to obey and please God was the morality in me that cast a shadow over what true freedom in the gospel might look like, I think, so my desire was to obey, but I’m really sad about it. I feel like a shell of the person I used to be … and at the same time unsure of who I was before ... so finding the shell that I am a very foreign one.

In many ways, I think I can describe this loss as losing the life I thought I would have: the children, the house, the future dog, the future adventures, the picture perfect family. Most of all, I feel that I’ve lost my best friend, my confidant, my life partner. I’ve lost someone who’s known me most intimately. I admit, I feel really lonely despite my community coming together to help me, especially as time goes on. I lost things God never promised I would have. 

But maybe ‘losing’ helps me to gain Who I’ve needed most. I have never been brought to God’s feet the way I have been this year. I need His grace and mercy for me each day and I’m growing in awareness of my need.

So right now I’m just trying to reconcile the grief to the truths without growing bitter or frustrated with the whole process. A good friend reminded me that sanctification is as much a grace as justification is - and this isn’t to say I should just sit around in defeat, but it’s comforting and validating because although I’m struggling, I haven’t been running away in the midst of all the emotional turmoil. I understand intellectually that there is a hope, grace, mercy, joy to be experienced in the now because of the gospel. I understand that it’s okay to be in pain because Jesus empathizes with our weaknesses. 

It just takes time for my heart to understand it. If you read this, please pray for me.

I still love him very much. I have great compassion for him and my prayer remains the same that freely he would come to God. All of this reminds me of the concern I should have for my own relationship with God. But I also know that God is sovereign and good and jealous. The glory will only be to God. I just don’t know what I can do now ... what is allowed and what isn’t allowed. 

Til next blog. Sorry that this blog probably doesn’t make much sense without context.

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar ‘19 🎄

While it doesn’t fit canon at all, this story takes place on Christmas. Let’s call it canon adjacent with things borrowed from Kay’s novel.

A Christmas Carol

by @maze-zen​

If you want a happy ending, this is not the story for you. 

This is a story about learning to love and showing compassion, but mostly, it’s about losing the one you love.

It happened on Christmas Eve: the night I thought I’d finally gotten everything I wanted; Christine had turned the scorpion and chosen to marry me. But not only that! She’d promised to be my living bride if I saved the lives of her little fop and the Daroga. It was a small price to pay for the promise of having a real wife who wouldn’t end her life the moment she found herself married to a walking corpse. 

However, I have learned through painful lessons in my life never to trust anyone completely, so I knew I had to have something to bargain with in case my bride-to-be chose to change her mind. 

The Vicomte was kept unconscious after I’d made him inhale chloroform through a rag; meanwhile the Daroga slipped in and out of consciousness, despite my attempts to keep him asleep. I had to get him out before he became too aware of my actions, but I wasn’t willing to let my living wife be alone with the man she’d planned to run away with. I locked Christine in her bedroom, then bound a tight rope around the Vicomte’s wrists and ankles, leaving him no chance to escape if he should wake.

Then I dragged the Daroga to the surface, to Rue de Rivoli where he lived. Snow had begun to fall and for a moment I regretted not having Christine with me there to see it; she’d often talked about missing walking through the snow on the way to church on Christmas Eve. It so rarely snowed on Christmas in Paris, she’d said.

Next year I would take her. My wife and I walking to church! I might even be encouraged to walk inside with her if she wished to have me join her.

I disposed of the Daroga in his man-servant’s care, swiftly fleeing before Darius could ask me any questions. But before leaving, I noticed a small shrine at the end of the hallway in the Daroga’s house. My eyes instantly recognized the illustration I’d once drawn of Reza so long ago in Persia. Candles and pretty trinkets were placed around the drawing. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I thought of the sickly boy who I’d ensured a peaceful death for; I pushed the memories from my mind. I had a wife to attend to.

Imagine my fright when I reached the catacombs and in a corridor came face to face with the boy - Reza - alive and looking well. My mind had finally reached total insanity after many years of tipping on the edge. 

With firm determination to disregard my mind's little tricks, I ignored the spectre and walked down the corridor that was the fastest way to reach my house from the Rue Scribe entrance; then, the ghost began talking to me! “Hello again, Erik." I was surprised of how well my mind memorized the child’s voice, though it was now strong instead of weakened by the disease. I always did have a good imagination.

I kept ignoring the boy, but he followed me, talking to me of the strangest things. “I’ve come to visit you, to help you change your ways. I’ve been chosen as the Spirit of Christmas Past.”

These words were familiar. I laughed at the child, almost mockingly, because I found my brain's use of Charles Dickinson’s novel obvious and quite tacky. Surely my imagination was better than that! “Let me guess? I’m Ebenezer Scrooge and you’ve come to show me my past Christmases!” 

“That is correct. Though you might find it unlikely, A Christmas Carol was based on true events." The boy said in a plain, serious voice. "Now, take my hand and let me be your guide. We’ll visit your very first Christmas.” With those words Reza gripped my hand; in an instant I found myself not in the damp and cold catacombs, but in the warm sitting room of my childhood home.

There was a fire in the fireplace, candles in the window sills and small porcelain angels decorated every surface. In the middle of the room sat Madeleine in her usual chair. But she looked so different from how I remembered her; instead of cold and filled with disgust, her expression was that of a lost child, frightened and downhearted.

Loud crying from an infant came from another room and Madeleine covered her ears with her hands.

Reza looked up at me with gloomy eyes; I hated pity, so I turned from him and walked into the room that must’ve served as my nursery until I was sent to the attic to live. There, in a beautiful cradle, lay a crying little babe. However, the only way you could tell it was alive was by its melodious cry. I smiled a bit, for even then, my voice had sounded beautiful while the rest of me was a corpse.

“From the moment I was born, my mother rejected me. She couldn’t find it in her heart to comfort me.” I whispered to Reza as I looked at myself in the cradle. I reached out to the baby, to give it some of the human touch I’d been denied from birth, but I found that I couldn’t touch him.

“We’re only here as spectators,” Reza said. “We cannot change the past.” This whole thing seemed like a strange dream to me, a hazy illusion, but I found myself playing along. 

I was a hideous child - no doubt about that - but I longed to show this child that he wasn’t alone. Even though he was, as I had been.

“Why do I need to be here?” I hissed at Reza. “I lived long enough in this house and I’ve had no desire to return.” Reza held up a hand, then pointed to the door.

Madeleine entered the room, carrying a large box. “Stop crying,” she yelled at the infant as she put down the box in front of the cradle. Traces of tears stained her cheeks. In response, the child instantly silenced; he was finally being acknowledged. 

“I cannot be a mother to you,” she whispered, not bringing herself to look at the little boy who was eager to see another person. “I cannot give you the unconditional love that every child should have.” 

I felt a pain in my heart, as another piece of it broke. I knew all this already, but it was nonetheless difficult to hear.

Madeleine bent down and reached into the box, lifting a young dog out of it. “This is Sasha. No one else will be able to give you love, but Sasha will love you no matter what you look like. That is my Christmas present to you.” She placed the dog in the cradle where it instantly licked the boy’s face and carefully laid down next to him. The boy buried his deformed face into its fur.

“She may not have given you the love you needed, but she showed enough compassion to provide you with the chance to get it,” the ghost child beside me mumbled.

Despite my conviction that this was only a figment of my imagination, I found myself overcome with emotions. I turned away in haste, striding out of the room. Reza ran after me, gripping my hand. Suddenly, I found myself in a familiar Persian house.

It was the Daroga’s house, but the room I was standing in belonged to the sickly boy in the bed. Around him stood toys of every kind; each of them built by my younger self. I knew the scene in front of me as a living corpse walked into the room with a bowl of sherbet. Neither the Daroga nor Reza knew it at the time, but it had been Christmas in another part of the world - the one I came from - and the poison hidden in the sherbet was my present to us all.

“Eat this, Reza, it will make your throat feel better.” My younger self said to the boy in the bed; the latter obeyed.  

Next to me stood a healthy Reza with a weak smile on his face. He looked up at me. “You did the right thing. The disease was killing me slowly. I was in so much pain. And though it hurt you, you gave me a painless death.”

“I murdered you, so I was spared of watching you die slowly. And so your father could be free of taking the decision.” My voice was angry, but not with him. I was angry with myself for allowing the child to die. I should’ve found a cure. A brilliant mind was all the world had gifted me with and yet I couldn’t help an innocent child.

“You did it because you hated to watch me suffer. And despite your wish to keep me with you, you let go of me. Out of love.” Reza argued as the dying version of himself in the bed sagged slightly; his breathing began to slow. He slipped into unconsciousness, but to any other person it would seem as though he simply fell asleep. 

We stood in silence as his body started to shut down. The Daroga, Nadir, entered the room the moment Reza exhaled for the last time; I’d often wondered if that was the moment his immortal soul escaped - if such a thing existed. 

While the younger version of me stayed composed as he lifted the boy and placed it in his father’s arms, I found that I was sobbing. There had been much pain in my life, both physical and emotional, yet letting Reza die was the most painful moment of my life. And I’d never let myself feel the pain before now. Instead, I’d buried it in opium and later morphine.

“Get me out of here,” I growled at the living Reza beside me. The sorrow was plain in my voice and it started to make me angry. “Let me wake up!” I attempted to punch my fist into the wall, but it went right through. I turned the fist on myself, hitting my jaw hard enough to make my teeth rattle. But I was still in that godforsaken house, watching a crying Nadir sink to the floor with his dead son in his arms.

Finally, the Ghost took pity on me. He put a hand on my arm and a second later I found myself back in the catacombs. “I have no time for this,” I mumbled; gathering my bearings and wiping the tears from my horrific face, I nearly started running towards the direction of my house on the lake. I was deeply disturbed by the events, no matter how unreal they were, and I needed to find my way back to reality.

Behind me I heard Reza shouting: “Watch out for the Spirit of Christmas Present!”

It was in a haze I reached my house; I emerged through the hidden door in the music room and immediately locked it behind me. Why, I didn’t know, as there was no sign of the Ghost having followed me. There was not even proof that any of it had been real. Of course it hadn't been real! It wasn’t possible. Yet, I felt unsettled by the whole thing.

I entered the sitting room where the Vicomte was still lying unconscious on the floor. I checked his pulse and breathing, but he seemed to be healthy enough. The boy just couldn’t handle the trauma of almost drowning.

Christine was quiet in her bedroom, but came running to the door when I unlocked it. She was docile, but had obviously been crying. I let her follow me into the sitting room where she could see that the boy was alive, then left her alone as I dragged him to the dungeon where I disposed of him. 

I would figure out what to do with him later. He was useful for making sure that Christine would honor her promise to be my living wife, and I liked the knowledge that he wasn’t coming to rescue her again. 

I found myself in a good mood as I left the dungeon. The eerie feeling I’d carried with me after the imagined encounter with Reza was still with me, but I was succeeding in storing it away in the back of my mind. I was aware that Christine was the only one left in my house, waiting for her husband-to-be, and I didn’t wish to keep her waiting any longer.

However, as I turned a corner and came face to face with the recently deceased M. Comte de Chagny, I realized that the plans for my evening once again were being disrupted. I spun around and took down another path to my house, but not surprisingly, he manifested in this new path as well.

“Hello, Erik,” the Comte said politely and held out his hand for me to shake. I didn’t take it. “We’ve never officially met, not until I was being pulled underwater, but I assume you know who I am.” Without offense he took back his hand. “I’ve been assigned to be the Spirit of Christmas Present. I’m here to show you what...”

“Yes yes, just get it over with,” I grumbled, not caring that I was interrupting him. I didn’t have time for this sudden discovery of a conscience that my mind was having. I knew well enough that my actions were morally wrong, but Christine had left me no choice, and she was meant for me. I’d made her what she was!

The Comte huffed in a superior manner that only people of high society did. “Well, you’ve made my job somewhat more difficult by rendering most of the people you know unconscious - those who haven’t died, of course, or isn’t being held prisoner in your home,” the handsome Comte glared at me as though it was expected of me to behave as any other member of society. A society that had shunned me from the moment I was born! 

“Therefore,” the older de Chagny continued, “I’m going to show you what the people closest to you did earlier this Christmas.”

With those words, I expected the Comte to touch me as Reza had done to transport me to the past, but he didn’t; instead, I blinked once and suddenly found myself in a house above ground. I quickly recognized it as the Daroga’s house. The interior was mostly Persian, though the design of the townhouse was Parisian. It was much like the townhouse I’d imagined for me and Christine to live in, like a normal couple. 

The musings about my future with Christine was cut short by a loud sigh. That’s when I noticed the Daroga sitting in an armchair in the sitting room I was standing in.

I jumped a little when the Comte came up next to me, looking at the same scene as me. The Daroga was holding another of my drawings, this one of him with Reza. I’d never added myself to any of those illustrations; there was no reason to. But the Daroga traced the space beside the drawn image of himself and mumbled my name as if he wanted me to be there. 

“Master, do you wish for a warm supper tonight?” Darius asked from the door to the hallway.

The Daroga never even lifted his head in acknowledgement, just shook his head. “I have to go to the Opera Populaire again. I have to find Erik before it’s too late.”

“Pardon for my asking, Master, but why do you still bother with that nuisance? He has damned himself many times over.” The man-servant sounded agitated, but I’d always been aware of his dislike for me; unlike others, Darius attempted to hide it, in respect of his master who kept company with me.

“I feel responsible for him and the damage he causes, Darius. To the little soprano, to the Vicomte. Not to mention to the opera goers.” The Daroga replied, putting down the illustration on the coffee table and burying his face in his hands. I huffed in response to this answer. I’d always known that his supposed moral responsibility for my evil doings was the reason he’d traveled to Paris.

I looked impatiently at the Comte, signaling that there was nothing new for me to know here, but he held up a hand - his eyes still focused on the Daroga.

When Nadir’s face resurfaced from his hands, tears were falling from his eyes. “But I admit that it’s much more than that,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with withheld crying. “Erik has been there for me in times of need. He is my friend. And though he doesn’t understand it because he’s never had any other friend, friends will aid each other in any way they can. This is the only way I can help him!”

At first, I admit that the words stunned me; I’d not expected to hear the Daroga say such things about me. Then, I became angry. “I’ve never asked you to care!” I shouted at the old man. “I never asked for your help! You meddle in things you have no business in and dare to call yourself a friend to me! Stupid booby!”

The Daroga, of course, didn’t respond. He couldn’t hear me which the Comte in that moment was so kind to point out to me: “He cannot hear you, but I’m sure this is nothing he hasn’t heard before.” His voice was cheerful, amused. “Sometimes one’s intentions can be misguided, but the point is that he cares, Erik. He tries to do what’s right. That’s more than you have ever done.”

I glared at him with fiery eyes. “I’ve no reason to be here. I have a lady waiting for me in the real present.”

I turned around to leave the townhouse, a task I should be capable of, as I was incorporeal, but all of a sudden found myself in the hallway of the 2nd cellar in the opera house. In front of me was Christine, standing in the Vicomte’s embrace. I stopped in my tracks, slightly snarling at the couple. I noticed then that she was crying.

“I’m telling you, Raoul, I’m not leaving him without saying goodbye,” she sobbed. 

Next to me the Comte unsurprisingly reappeared, shaking his head and tutting as he watched the scene unfold. “I love my brother, but he will never understand the relationship, that girl has with you. He sees no nuances in the world. Everything is still white and black to him.”

“Christine, if you go on that stage, I fear that he will take you,” the boy whined into her golden hair. “I cannot let you do that.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” the strong-willed Christine emerged with these words; it filled me with glee when she talked back to him. “He has never known any kindness, no love! How can you expect him to show others what no one has shown him?”

“Does that mean that you’ll go back to him? After you promised that we’d run away together?” The boy once again sounded like a spoiled child being denied something he wanted. 

“No. I will go with you. But I will sing for him one last time. It pains me deeply that I cannot be what he wants me to. How I’ve wished that I could give him what he’s been missing! The least I can do is say goodbye. Hopefully, then, he can let me go.”

I felt a bitter taste in my mouth as the lovers said goodbye before Christine went to her dressing room to get ready for the stage. She’d expected me to let her go, hoping that I had enough kindness for that. And I’d failed her belief in me. How could I face her now?

“She’s got spirit, that girl, I’ll admit to that,” the Comte nodded at the fleeing soprano’s direction. “I understand my brother’s fascination with her. And yours of course. You have both lacked that kind of woman in your life.”

His words infuriated me and in a bout of rage I gripped the lapels of his coat and pushed him into a wall. To my surprise I could both touch him and hold him against the wall without either of us falling through. But the Comte just laughed in my face. 

“Such anger you hold inside! However, you cannot hurt me. You already killed me!” Disappointed and deflated by his words, I let him go. I had killed him only hours before, but for some reason he didn’t seem very concerned about that. 

“She has soul where you have none. Watch out, or you’ll crush it.” The Comte de Chagny straightened his clothes, surely more out of habit than of real concern to who might see him. “Now, it’s time I take my leave. We both have places to be. Beware of the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come!”

In the blink of an eye he was gone and I was in front of my house on the lake. I once more began convincing myself that it had been a hallucination, that I’d imagined the whole thing, but no matter how I tried, something inside me had accepted that these occurrences, to me at least, were real.

Hesitant and fearful of what awaited me on the other side of the door, I put on the mask I kept in my pocket and ventured into my house in search of Christine. She was in the sitting room, anxiously waiting for me on the couch. She stood upright when she saw me, nervousness clear in her eyes.

I expected my mind to conjure up an image of the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come now, when I was finally with my bride, but no such thing came forth as I neared Christine. She waited for me patiently as I carefully walked towards her, as not to frighten her. Then, she put out her forehead in offering to me; she was presenting me with the opportunity to kiss her bare skin, willingly.

I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her pale forehead; her skin was warm and softer than I’d imagined. She let me have what no one else had allowed me before and I felt happiness unlike any other!

I gazed down at her as she looked up at me. Her eyes were tearful - tired and withdrawn. The brightness I’d always seen in them was dimmed. And it was because of me.

It was then I saw the Christmas Yet to Come; it was her all along, without her knowledge. If I kept her with me, she would wither and die. There would be no walks through the snow as we ventured to mass on Christmas Eve; no townhouse where we would live together as a normal couple. Christine might keep her promise to stay alive as my wife, but every blessed thing that made me love her would perish if I married her. 

I had to show compassion, though I’d none to give. She was the only woman I’d ever truly loved and felt could love me back, but if I didn’t let her go, I’d have to watch her die slowly. When I’d been faced with Reza slowly dying, the choice had been easier than it seemed now.

It wasn’t her voice I fell in love with, but her spirit, her soul! Without it she’d be an empty shell. And despite everything I could not allow that to happen.

I fell to her feet, crying of love and regret. She cried with me, her tears mingling with mine. And though I took off my mask, she took my hand and stayed with me. She didn’t know that I was letting her go.

I fetched the Vicomte and followed them both up to the Rue Scribe entrance; I watched as they walked into the snowy street. Dawn was breaking and bells began to chime, calling the Catholics to church for Christmas morning mass. 

For a brief moment I longed to join the Parsians in their Christmas cheer, like Ebenzer Scrooge had joined the Cratchit family with a large turkey. What a happy ending that had been! But such a thing would never be. I crawled back into the catacombs, down to my house on the lake and into my coffin. It is where I am lying now, waiting for death to come for me. 

It is my love and compassion for Christine that is killing me, but it’s also what saved her soul. If I have to die for her spirit to soar, then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.

I am thankful that I spent my last Christmas with her. 

[sayflexxyblog]

Labule - Smartie

Labule – Smartie

Born Segun Adekunle, Labule is a Nigerian music artist that plays a blend of highlife and Afrobeat. He started out his career as a child as his mom recalled that only songs from Legendary King Sunny Ade and Ebenezer Obey could stop him from crying. He was the head drummer back in his primary and secondary school days. He studied Engineering in the University where he was nicknamed Lagbaja by his…

[nigerianmusic]

Lagos, rhythm in the skin

Nigeria is the giant of Africa. It is the most populous country on the continent (195 million inhabitants) and the richest economically. Its capital, Lagos, is the city of tomorrow. Everything is fast-paced, furious and creative. It is full of emerging, creative and musical talent. Since the 1960s, many famous artists such as King Sunny Adé, Fatai Rolling Dollar, Ebenezer Obey, Orlando Julius or Shina Peters have been able to export their music worldwide. The Afrobeat music of Fela Kuti continues to inspire the younger generation. Maringa, highlife, juju and fuju were born there, on these African lands.

Since 2010, the new generation continues to draw from this fertile musical heritage. [...]  Burna Boy and company have made the most of it. Their music? Afrobeat, jollof, naijapop. They mix the rhythms of traditional music and borrow from the most current beats like trap, dancehall, alkayida and kwaito. The result is an infectious energy.

Lagos has become the New York of Africa. It is a city full of energy where young people party day and night.

The new generation is shaking things up: they are more globalized, more open, and have a hybrid, hyper-modern sound. In Lagos, music is an increasingly popular and credible career choice for young Nigerians. The Nigerian capital is infusing the rest of the continent with a powerful drive. Everyone hears the noise it makes there.

sources :

https://www.liberation.fr/musique/2013/12/13/lagos-capitale-chaos_964076/

[dailybiblelessons]

Thursday: Preparation for the Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Revised Common Lectionary Proper 5 Roman Catholic Proper 10

Complementary Hebrew Scripture from the Latter Prophets: Isaiah 28:9-13

“Whom will he [the Lord] teach knowledge,  and to whom will he explain the message? Those who are weaned from milk,  those taken from the breast? For it is precept upon precept, precept upon precept,  line upon line, line upon line,  here a little, there a little.”

Truly, with stammering lip  and with alien tongue he will speak to this people,  to whom he has said, “This is rest;  give rest to the weary; and this is repose”;  yet they would not hear.¹ Therefore the word of the Lord will be to them,  “Precept upon precept, precept upon precept, line upon line, line upon line,  here a little, there a little;” in order that they may go, and fall backward,  and be broken, and snared, and taken.

¹ Paul quotes verses 11 and 12 [Truly, with stammering lip …would not hear] in 1 Corinthians 14:21.

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture from the Former Prophets: 1 Samuel 4

And the word of Samuel came to all Israel.

In those days the Philistines mustered for war against Israel, and Israel went out to battle against them; they encamped at Ebenezer, and the Philistines encamped at Aphek. The Philistines drew up in line against Israel, and when the battle was joined, Israel was defeated by the Philistines, who killed about four thousand men on the field of battle. When the troops came to the camp, the elders of Israel said, “Why has the Lord put us to rout today before the Philistines? Let us bring the ark of the covenant of the Lord here from Shiloh, so that he may come among us and save us from the power of our enemies.” So the people sent to Shiloh, and brought from there the ark of the covenant of the Lord of hosts, who is enthroned on the cherubim. The two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were there with the ark of the covenant of God.

When the ark of the covenant of the Lord came into the camp, all Israel gave a mighty shout, so that the earth resounded. When the Philistines heard the noise of the shouting, they said, “What does this great shouting in the camp of the Hebrews mean?” When they learned that the ark of the Lord had come to the camp, the Philistines were afraid; for they said, “Gods have come into the camp.” They also said, “Woe to us! For nothing like this has happened before. Woe to us! Who can deliver us from the power of these mighty gods? These are the gods who struck the Egyptians with every sort of plague in the wilderness. Take courage, and be men, O Philistines, in order not to become slaves to the Hebrews as they have been to you; be men and fight.”

So the Philistines fought; Israel was defeated, and they fled, everyone to his home. There was a very great slaughter, for there fell of Israel thirty thousand foot soldiers. The ark of God was captured; and the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, died.

A man of Benjamin ran from the battle line, and came to Shiloh the same day, with his clothes torn and with earth upon his head. When he arrived, Eli was sitting upon his seat by the road watching, for his heart trembled for the ark of God. When the man came into the city and told the news, all the city cried out. When Eli heard the sound of the outcry, he said, “What is this uproar?” Then the man came quickly and told Eli. Now Eli was ninety-eight years old and his eyes were set, so that he could not see. The man said to Eli, “I have just come from the battle; I fled from the battle today.” He said, “How did it go, my son?” The messenger replied, “Israel has fled before the Philistines, and there has also been a great slaughter among the troops; your two sons also, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead, and the ark of God has been captured.” When he mentioned the ark of God, Eli fell over backward from his seat by the side of the gate; and his neck was broken and he died, for he was an old man, and heavy. He had judged Israel forty years.

Now his daughter-in-law, the wife of Phinehas, was pregnant, about to give birth. When she heard the news that the ark of God was captured, and that her father-in-law and her husband were dead, she bowed and gave birth; for her labor pains overwhelmed her. As she was about to die, the women attending her said to her, “Do not be afraid, for you have borne a son.” But she did not answer or give heed. She named the child Ichabod, meaning, “The glory has departed from Israel,” because the ark of God had been captured and because of her father-in-law and her husband. She said, “The glory has departed from Israel, for the ark of God has been captured.”

Complementary Psalm 130

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.  Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive  to the voice of my supplications!

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,  Lord, who could stand? But there is forgiveness with you,  so that you may be revered.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,  and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord  more than those who watch for the morning,  more than those who watch for the morning.

O Israel, hope in the Lord!  For with the Lord there is steadfast love,  and with him is great power to redeem. It is he who will redeem Israel  from all its iniquities.

Semi-continuous Psalm 138

I give you thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart;  before the gods I sing your praise; I bow down toward your holy temple  and give thanks to your name  for your steadfast love and your faithfulness;  for you have exalted your name  and your word above everything. On the day I called, you answered me,  you increased my strength of soul.

All the kings of the earth shall praise you, O Lord,  for they have heard the words of your mouth. They shall sing of the ways of the Lord,  for great is the glory of the Lord. For though the Lord is high, he regards the lowly;  but the haughty he perceives from far away.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,  you preserve me against the wrath of my enemies; you stretch out your hand,  and your right hand delivers me. The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;  your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.  Do not forsake the work of your hands.

New Testament Epistle Lesson: 1 Peter 4:7-19

The end of all things is near; therefore be serious and discipline yourselves for the sake of your prayers. Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received. Whoever speaks must do so as one speaking the very words of God; whoever serves must do so with the strength that God supplies, so that God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ. To him belong the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer, a thief, a criminal, or even as a mischief maker. Yet if any of you suffers as a Christian, do not consider it a disgrace, but glorify God because you bear this name. For the time has come for judgment to begin with the household of God; if it begins with us, what will be the end for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And

“If it is hard for the righteous to be saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinners?”¹

Therefore, let those suffering in accordance with God's will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good.

¹Proverbs 11:31

Year B Ordinary 10, RCL Proper 5, Catholic Proper 10 Thursday

 Selections from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings, copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from The New Revised Standard Version, (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All right reserved. Footnotes in the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) that show where the passage is used in the Christian Scriptures (New Testament) from Complete Jewish Bible (CJB) by David H. Stern, Copyright © 1998 and 2006 by David H. Stern, used by permission of Messianic Jewish Publishers, www.messianicjewish.net. All rights reserved worldwide. When text is taken from the CJB, the passage ends with (CJB) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Footnotes in the Christian Scriptures (New Testament) that show where a passage from the Hebrew Scripture (Old Testament) is used are from The Holy Bible, New International Version® (NIV®), copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. When text is taken from the NIV, the passage ends with (NIV) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Image credit: St. Peter and St. Paul (detail), by Jusepe de Ribera, via Bible Odyssey. This image is in the public domain because its author died over four hundred years ago.

[fameinhistory]

9ice

  https://youtu.be/lRUaM9yYXBk 9ice is a Nigerian musician and Hip hop, Afro pop music, world fusion artist. A Nigerian-American serial entrepreneur. Background information Full Name: Abolore Adegbola Akande Born: 17 January 1980 Also known as: Adigun, Baale, Bashorun Gaa, Hitmaker, Ancestor Genres: Hip hop, Afro pop music, world fusion Famous as: Singer-songwriter, instrumentalist Instruments: Vocals Years active: 2000 –present Labels: Alapomeji Ancestral Records Spouse: Adetola Anifalaje Children: Milani-Françoise Imisioluwa Akande, Zion Akande, Michelle Abolanle Akande

Biographical and educational history 9ice, christened Abolore Alexander Adegbola Ajifolajifaola Akande, is a native of Ogbomosho town in Oyo state, Nigeria. He was born into a polygamous family with his Muslim father marrying five wives. He attended Abule Okuta Primary School and CMS Grammar School, and dropped out from his law course at the Lagos State University due to lack of funds and decided to concentrate on his music.

Also Read About:Kemi Olunloyo Music career, album and breakthrough 9ice wrote his own songs, beginning at age 14. As a big fan of Pasuma Wonder, he kick-started his singing career with Fuji music. He derives his inspiration from his environment, and music from the likes of Ebenezer Obey, King Sunny Adé, Tatalo Alamu, the late Alhaji Ayinla Omowura, and the late Alhaji Haruna Ishola. After recording his first demo, 9ice joined the group Mysterious Boys, with whom he did a couple of tracks before going on to form his own, now defunct, group, Abinibi Having recorded his first demo, titled Risi De Alagbaja, in 1996, and his first solo song, "Little Money" in 2000, 9ice had to wait until 2005 before gaining recognition in the Nigerian music market. The first major breakthrough for 9ice came from his first single, "Little Money". Soon after this, he did collaborations with different Nigerian artists that prompted the release of another hit single, "Ganja Man". ID Cabasa produced this single, which was released with other songs in March 2006. The reggae tone and playful style of the song made it an instant hit. 9ice later founded his own record company and released all other albums under that label, Alapomeji Records.

9ice's debut album "Certificate" was relatively successful, and included the songs "Little Money", "Ganja Man", "Make Dem Talk" and "Music Daddy". His sophomore album "Gongo Aso", notable for his hit song 'Gongo Aso' included songs covering success, originality, partying and women, as well as themes on the institution of marriage and gratitude. He is recognized as the first Nigerian pop artist to release two albums in a year. He achieved this feat in 2011 when he released Bashorun Gaa and Versus albums simultaneously to critical acclaim. He repeat the same feat in 2014 when he released Cancelling Numerous Negativity (CNN) and Galvanizing Right Ahead (GRA) albums simultaneously. However, this move proved to backfire as both albums flopped in the market. Some say his involvement in politics at the time had an effect on the overall quality of the albums as well as the marketing strategy employed to push the albums. In 2016, he released his "ID Cabasa" album. The album was so named after his long time friend and superstar music producer ID Cabasa who single-handedly produced 9ice's debut and sophomore albums. Relationship between the two had been strained over the years and naming the album after ID Cabasa was part of 9ice's effort to reconnect and re-establish their relationship. 9ice gave all monetary proceeds from the album to ID Cabasa. Commercially and quality wise, the album was adjudged better than CNN/GRA. In 2018, he released the album G. O. A. T meaning Greatest of All Times.

Style of music 9ice is known for his use of the Yoruba language in his music, and he sometimes mixes Yoruba proverbs with English, pidgin English, Hausa and Igbo. With a mastery of his Yoruba language, his mother tongue, 9ice's music employs the use of Yoruba proverbs, folklores, popular sayings and mysticism. 9ice compares himself to Youssou N'Dour, who has won a couple of Grammy awards with music recorded in his mother tongue, and Yvonne Chaka Chaka, whose music has also embraced her language. 9ice has been quoted as saying, "English language has been imposed on us but God graciously gave Yoruba language to us."

Live performance Since late 2007 9ice has featured prominently across Nigerian campuses in the Soundcity/MTN Campus Blast tours; Lets Go There Tour With Ariya Entertainment in NY, LA, Chicago, Houston, Maryland in 2008; Star Mega Jam in 2007-2010; and London Troxy in 2008 and 2010. 9ice performed at the Nelson Mandela 90th Birthday Tribute concert (singing "Gongo Aso") in London on 27 June 2008. All these shows and concerts were sold-out events. He also headlined sold-out shows in the Netherlands and Malaysia in October 2010 to mark his country's 50-year anniversary of independence. In 2010, 9ice embarked on a European tour through parts of Italy, Spain and Switzerland. He also performed live in Cyprus at Lions Garden, where many Nigerian students were in attendance.

Political career In January 2014, 9ice announced plans to run for a political office in 2015 as a House of Representatives member representing the Ogbomoso North Constituency, Oyo state in the National Assembly. He contested for the seat under the umbrella of the All Progressives Congress (APC) but lost at the party primaries. In April 2015, the “Gongo Aso” singer was appointed a special adviser to former Governor of Oyo state, Abiola Ajimobi. Ambassador and endorsement UN Youth Ambassador Lagos State Environmental Ambassador 46664 Nelson Mandela Charity Organization Ambassador Global Public Health Ambassador to Society for Family Health

Family and Personal life 9ice, christened Abolore Alexander Adegbola Ajifolajifaola Akande, is a native of Ogbomosho town in Oyo state, Nigeria. He was born into a polygamous family with his Muslim father marrying five wives. 9ice himself is a Muslim but his mother is a practising Christian. Following the success of his "Gongo Aso" album, 9ice married media personality, poet and entrepreneur, Toni Payne. Their union, which was blessed by a son named Zion, soon hit the rocks and a bitter divorce followed with rumours going round that Toni's affair with 9ice's friend and rapper, Ruggedman, was the cause of the divorce. Ruggedman has since denied that he ever had an affair with Toni and 9ice himself has said no such affair happened. Following his split from Toni Payne, 9ice has been in babymama relationships with two other women—Victoria Godis and Olasunkanmi Ajala. With Victoria Godis, he has twin girls named Hazeeza Maya and Hadiza Miya. Olasunkanmi Ajala gave birth to 9ice's other daughter, Michelle. He is now remarried to and welcomed a baby girl, Milani-Françoise in late 2018. Awards achievements and recognitions 9ice's biggest single is titled "Gongo Aso". He is the founder of Alapomeji Ancestral Records. 9ice won the award for Best Hip Hop Artist at the MTV Africa Music Awards in 2008. At the third edition of the Hip Hop World Awards held in Nigeria, he won the Revelation of the Year award and Best Male Vocal Performer. A month later at the first SoundCity Music Video Awards. He was nominated in the category of Best New Artist. Other awards MOBO Best African Act 2008 Nigerian Music Awards Best Act 2008 Nigerian Entertainment Awards Most Indigenous Act 2007 Nigerian Entertainment Awards Best Act 2008 TV awards Best Hiphop Act MTV Africa Music Awards 2008 LTv/Eko Fm Awards Magazine awards Hiphop World Awards Best Vocal Performance Male 2008 Hiphop World Awards Revelation of The Year 2008 Hiphop World Awards Best Album 2009 Hiphop World Awards Best Act 2009 Hiphop World Awards Artiste of the Year – 2009 Hiphop World Awards Best Song 2009 Dynamix Awards Most Promising act 2007 Dynamix Awards Best Song of The Year 2008 Gbedu Awards 2008 City People's Award 2009 Wikipedia: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/9ice Read the full article

[freelanews-blog]

A History Of Crisis: Why Stakeholders Must Rise Up & Save COSON Now

This plantain rots away, you delude yourself claiming it's ripening. The Copyright Society of Nigeria is a 9-year-old Collective Management Organisation (CMO) that has shown the potential to succeed in the all important task of intellectual property rights protection in Nigeria. Licensed by the Nigeria Copyright Commission (NCC) to manage the collection and distribution of royalties for the commercial exploitation of musical works and sound recording, the organisation had shown significant promise until crisis broke out about a year and six months ago. By virtue of size and exponential growth of this industry in the last 20 years, COSON is by default the most invested CMO in Nigeria, and potentially, Africa. Therefore, the remarkable growth of COSON over the years doesn't come with a miracle tag, nor does it lend credence to the narrative of it being down to the sole effort of any particular personality. Many would argue that Musical Copyright Society of Nigeria (MCSN), a far older CMO for the industry didn’t make as much progress, but existential timing is a logical explanation. COSON came on stream at a time the massive growth of the music industry had drawn local attention to the issues of copyright infringements. More so, the industry had become better organized with the emergence of quality record labels, publishing firms, artist managers, and big-time international exposure. Therefore, a CMO coming at that point would naturally leverage the structure and goodwill of the industry to pursue its course under any name or management. COSON in its case, was even the result of the advocacy drive of strong stakeholders, therefore success was at a tipping point when it was licensed to operate in 2010. Following, COSON kicked-off reflecting the structured position of the industry it represents, with a staffed secretariat, governing board and nation-wide footprints that followed quite easily. Chief Tony Okoroji, an industry veteran, famed for his efforts in copyright protection issues, became the board’s maiden chairman, a position he held until the December 7th, 2017 Emergency Board Meeting, which sacked him for his inability to clear allegations of infractions as contained in a petition founding fathers wrote to the NCC and copied the board. The petition was signed by Evangelist Ebenezer Obey, Mr. Bode Akinyemi (Ivory Music), Chief Osita Okeke (Osy Affasson), Rogers Okeke (Rogers All Stars), Mr. Laolu Akins, Mr Toju Ejueyitchie (Premier Music Publishing) and others. The infractions listed in the petition was chiefly committed by Tony Okoroji and two other directors, Azeezat Allen and John Uduegbunam. It was also noted that a similar petition was months earlier, submitted to the board and board members were not informed about it. Tony Okoroji and COSON’s GM, Chinedu Chukwuji had responded to the NCC, without passing it through the board. The aggrieved directors went on to vote 6 against 4 for the sack of Okoroji, having rejected the option of resignation presented to him. The board then passed a resolution that made Efe Omorogbe the chairman and banned all directors and their companies from operating as vendors or consultants to the organization. Those that voted to sack Okoroji were Efe Omorogbe, Sikiru Agboola, Obi Asika, Dare Fasasi, Joel Ajayi and Audu Maikori. Okoroji, the other two accused in the petition and Ras Kimono voted to keep him has chairman. At the EGM of December 19, 2017, the unusual happened. The new chairman and the other 5 board members were purportedly sacked and Okoroji was reinstated as chairman, alongside Azeezat and John Uduegbunam in a process the regulator, the NCC has declared illegal. First, the general assembly only has the constitutional right of sacking and appointing board members through votes, but no right to decide who becomes board chairman, it is the sole prerogative of the board members. But the general assembly passed a resolution sacking the entire board and then reinstated Okoroji as chairman. After the business of the EGM had been concluded and the a formal adjournment motion had been passed, a private meeting at the boardroom of the COSON House led to the announcement of a reconstituted board implying that Okoroji and the other two directors where granted the liberty to hand pick and appoint board members rather than the assembly nominating and voting in new directors. This has led to several court cases and a complete state of flux about the legal status of COSON. For several years, Tony Okoroji had been the face of COSON. He was mainly the society’s spokesman, he told the story of COSON to all, championing its advocacy, promoting its activities across all media channels and addressing undermining or counter positions on COSON’s activities. This definitely, wasn’t without the backing of the other directors on the governing board, who were in fact rights owners themselves, making financial investments in content creation and using COSON as a platform to protect their rights. Okoroji sold the facade that he was the one responsible for the successes of COSON, meanwhile board members managed their grievances to allow the organization keep a united front. They rallied round the chairman as the face of the course, a privilege Tony took advantage of, to get the loyalty of several members, COSON staff and other right owners, who now see him and not COSON, as their benefactor. Okoroji’s interview on the matter was more PR-themed than explanatory. It was tailored to size with all lines and angles of good imaging of a peace-loving, focused and successful leader. While emphasizing his personal efforts in developing the COSON House (debt-free and without any government or private funding), he reiterated that in same year it was commissioned (2017), COSON Week was successfully held at the best event venues, and over N200,000,000.00 was distributed to members as royalties. He also stated that COSON accounts have always been audited every year, and a copy sent to NCC, CAC and all members of the society, and are usually debated at every AGM. He ascribed the success of COSON to his management style of openness and accountability. He went on to accuse external forces for using some board members to destabilize COSON, coming on the backdrop of his fight with the attorney general of the federation (Abubakar Malami), who approved the license of a parallel CMO for music and sound recordings. Okoroji claimed that the petition that was the basis of his sack at the EBD of 7th December 2017, was written by Toju, a bitter election opponent, whom he defeated. He also claimed that Ebenezer Obey said he was pressured to sign the document. On the issue of the request by members for forensic audit of COSON account, Okoroji said that the aggrieved board members were trying to bring KPMG and Price Waterhouse Cooper to run COSON. He went on to disregard the allegation of unethical award of contracts to TOPS Limited, his private firm, saying he was only helping COSON to get sponsorship for her events, and TOPS has never charged COSON for the services. As a concerned member of COSON, taking a critical look at the submissions of the parties in this fiasco brings some important queries to the bear about Tony Okoroji’s leadership of the society, which punctures all the media meandering aimed at shifting attention from the crux of the whole discord. Has Tony Okoroji ever denied the allegation that TOPS Ltd has maintained a consultancy contract with COSON? NO! Is it ethical to give TOPS Ltd any form of contract as the substantive chairman of the board? NO! Has Okoroji addressed claims that the award of contracts for the renovation of the COSON House were done without board approval? NO! Has Okoroji addressed allegations that he has illegally collected commission from licensing fees? NO! Is the forensic audit requested by members the same as the yearly audit done by COSON? NO! Is Okoroji the sole reason behind COSON’s successes? NO! Were the the proceedings of the December 19, 2017 extraordinary general meeting that purportedly reinstated Okoroji legal? NO! The regulators have said so. Is Okoroji above the the law, as demonstrated by his continued disregard of NCC’s directives? NO! Is Okoroji the only suitable candidate for COSON’s chairmanship? NO! Therefore, whatever argument the Okoroji’s camp is putting up is nonsensical in its entirety, because you can’t build something on nothing. As it stands, in the eyes of the law, the chairman of the governing board of COSON is Efe Omorogbe. The rightful directors remain the 11 that held the emergence board meeting of 7th December, 2017 (inclusive of Okoroji himself). Any position beyond this is an audacious kidnap of the legal structure of COSON, which Tony is leading. The whole drama and state of affairs at COSON is not an unfamiliar trend with Chief Okoroji for those who follow the political and legal events within the industry. History show an established pattern in every industry organisation that Okoroji has been a part of. From the early days of the the Musical Copyright Society of Nigeria (MCSN), where as a board member, he tried foisting his will on the body and was heavily resisted. Tony would move on with some other board members to the start a parallel organization in 1994. The supremacy battle between Publishing and Mechanical Rights Society (PMRS) and MCSN led to the suspension of their licenses. A move that created a decade-long lacuna in rights administration in Nigeria. Chief Okoroji was also very much in the news for plotting a third term bid as president of PMAN, a move that was vehemently resisted by members. Okoroji's role in PMAN thereafter has left some watchers unsure of his intentions for the union until he found his way out to COSON. Okoroji is not new to controversies of this kind and the factionalization and crisis at COSON is threatening to kill the organisation. As was the case in the past, COSON is the new baby at the mercy of his gambit, and like every other case, the organization is beginning to lose relevance, even presently operating illegally, according to the position of the regulator.The most fundamental question is, will stakeholders watch COSON go the way of PMAN after Okoroji's inglorious exit? There is a local saying that 20 children cannot play together for 20 years. Which implies that most relationships and associations are transitory. Most often though, what changes is not the relationships, but the levels of interactions and value. So, when people stop being part of any social institution/group, they depart with a perception of the individuals they met, by virtue of their interactions. Hence their future relationship or description of those persons is defined by their previous experiences. For Okoroji all past relationships on the boards of societies had left colleagues in bitterness, some grievances are over thirty years old. Can everyone be wrong about Tony Okoroji? The guys are MCSN? The guys at PMAN and now, colleagues at COSON? Where two elephants fight, the grass takes the hit. In this case, the right owners are at the verge of falling into another rights collection gap, if Okoriji's intransigence forces the revocation of the operating license of COSON by way of imminent expiration. Okoroji has maintained that if things were been done wrongly, COSON would not be running successfully. It beats the imagination that a sexagenarian will miss to understand the concept of climbing a ladder placed on the wrong wall. An organization that a lot of stakeholders have put in years of efforts to build can keep running on reserve gas when the plugs are pulled, but not for long, the engines will fail. Joel Ajayi, a long time finance committee chairman of COSON, who was among the board members that voted out Okoroji, spoke in an interview and affirmed he was one of the directors who acted on the petition against Okoroji and the board. This respected elder lamented that they had been complaining and overlooking Okoroji's excesses for many years until things got to a head. The chief allegation remained that Okoroji and his cronies, executing through Chinedu Chukwuji, are mismanaging the finances of COSON. Many key stakeholders have demanded a forensic audit to clear the allegations and resolve the crisis. Falz, Mavin, Skales, Square Records, 9ice, 2Baba, EME, Brymo, Chocolate City, Premier Music Publishing, Ivory Music, Sunny Neji, Ruggedman, Vector, Timi Dakolo, Tunde and Wunmi Obe, PMAN and many more. Some of the right owners have even written to users not to pay COSON until the audit has been conducted. This development is a gradual dismembering of COSON, its credibility and capacity to run as an effective CMO. Right users will be glad to hide under this debacle not to pay. After the 2017 COSON Week, allegedly executed without board approval, Okoroji came back with a bill of about N26m to seek retroactive approval to TOPS Ltd, his company, an allegation he has NEVER DENIED. There is also another allegation that Okoroji received over N9m in commission from MTN's settlement without the knowledge and approval of the board, another allegation he has NEVER ADDRESSED. Aren't these valid reasons for an audit? According to Article 61 of the COSON memo and articles of association “The Management Board shall appoint a General Manager who shall be the chief executive of the society with responsibility for the day-to-day activities of the society and to whom the Management Board may delegate any of its duties. The General Manager shall not be a member of the society” However, Chief Okoroji has had an overbearing control of COSON, assuming a similar role of executive chairman, contrary to the provisions of the society’s MEMART. Okoroji has also been known to be involved in hiring and firing, contract awards and payments and other day-to-day running activities of COSON. Current GM, Chinedu Chukwuji who appears to run on the order of Okoroji’s is also suspected to have blood ties with him. Many financial and corporate governance questions beg for answers and it gets worrisome when the predominant messaging one gets from the organisation is evasive of the issues and demonizing of individuals. This isn’t an "Efe vs Tony" thing. This in fact, is a COSON vs Okoroji, the music industry vs an apparent autocrat who acts like he is above questions. Will members rise up to resist the imminent destruction of a society that is now well positioned to protect their rights? In the words of Vincent de Paul “…The downfall of most communities comes from the cowardice of superiors in not holding firm and in not purging them of the troublesome and incorrigible." The right owners are the superior, they own COSON not Tony Okoroji, who is an incorrigible piece that all truly concerned members have to purge before this community goes the way of others that Tony had been a part of. In recognition and respect however, of the position of those who believe Okoroji is innocent of all the allegations that have been leveled against him, a full forensic audit of the account and operations of COSON under his tenure would be the basic starting point towards exonerating him. The continued dodging of the audit digs a big hole in Okoroji's argument. A big black hole COSON seem destined to drown into if immediate redemptive action is not taken by all key stakeholders in this embarrassing saga. COSON is worth the effort. Let's save it NOW. Read the full article

[araitsume]

Patriarchs and Prophets, pp. 581-591: Chapter (57) The Ark Taken by the Philistines

This chapter is based on 1 Samuel 3 to 7.

Another warning was to be given to Eli's house. God could not communicate with the high priest and his sons; their sins, like a thick cloud, had shut out the presence of His Holy Spirit. But in the midst of evil the child Samuel remained true to Heaven, and the message of condemnation to the house of Eli was Samuel's commission as a prophet of the Most High.

“The word of the Lord was precious in those days; there was no open vision. And it came to pass at that time, when Eli was laid down in his place, and his eyes began to wax dim, that he could not see; and ere the lamp of God went out in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was, and Samuel was laid down to sleep; that the Lord called Samuel.” Supposing the voice to be that of Eli, the child hastened to the bedside of the priest, saying, “Here am I; for thou calledst me.” The answer was, “I called not, my son; lie down again.” Three times Samuel was called, and thrice he responded in like manner. And then Eli was convinced that the mysterious call was the voice of God. The Lord had passed by His chosen servant, the man of hoary hairs, to commune with a child. This in itself was a bitter yet deserved rebuke to Eli and his house.

No feeling of envy or jealousy was awakened in Eli's heart. He directed Samuel to answer, if again called, “Speak, Lord; for Thy servant heareth.” Once more the voice was heard, and the child answered, “Speak; for Thy servant heareth.” So awed was he at the thought that the great God should speak to him that he could not remember the exact words which Eli bade him say.

“And the Lord said to Samuel, Behold, I will do a thing in Israel, at which both the ears of everyone that heareth it shall tingle. In that day I will perform against Eli all things which I have spoken concerning his house: when I begin, I will also make an end. For I have told him that I will judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knoweth; because his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not. And therefore I have sworn unto the house of Eli, that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be purged with sacrifice nor offering forever.”

Before receiving this message from God, “Samuel did not yet know the Lord, neither was the word of the Lord yet revealed unto him;” that is, he was not acquainted with such direct manifestations of God's presence as were granted to the prophets. It was the Lord's purpose to reveal Himself in an unexpected manner, that Eli might hear of it through the surprise and inquiry of the youth.

Samuel was filled with fear and amazement at the thought of having so terrible a message committed to him. In the morning he went about his duties as usual, but with a heavy burden upon his young heart. The Lord had not commanded him to reveal the fearful denunciation, hence he remained silent, avoiding, as far as possible, the presence of Eli. He trembled, lest some question should compel him to declare the divine judgments against one whom he loved and reverenced. Eli was confident that the message foretold some great calamity to him and his house. He called Samuel, and charged him to relate faithfully what the Lord had revealed. The youth obeyed, and the aged man bowed in humble submission to the appalling sentence. “It is the Lord,” he said: “let Him do what seemeth Him good.”

Yet Eli did not manifest the fruits of true repentance. He confessed his guilt, but failed to renounce the sin. Year after year the Lord delayed His threatened judgments. Much might have been done in those years to redeem the failures of the past, but the aged priest took no effective measures to correct the evils that were polluting the sanctuary of the Lord and leading thousands in Israel to ruin. The forbearance of God caused Hophni and Phinehas to harden their hearts and to become still bolder in transgression. The messages of warning and reproof to his house were made known by Eli to the whole nation. By this means he hoped to counteract, in some measure, the evil influence of his past neglect. But the warnings were disregarded by the people, as they had been by the priests. The people of surrounding nations also, who were not ignorant of the iniquities openly practiced in Israel, became still bolder in their idolatry and crime. They felt no sense of guilt for their sins, as they would have felt had the Israelites preserved their integrity. But a day of retribution was approaching. God's authority had been set aside, and His worship neglected and despised, and it became necessary for Him to interpose, that the honor of His name might be maintained.

“Now Israel went out against the Philistines to battle, and pitched beside Ebenezer: and the Philistines pitched in Aphek.” This expedition was undertaken by the Israelites without counsel from God, without the concurrence of high priest or prophet. “And the Philistines put themselves in array against Israel: and when they joined battle, Israel was smitten before the Philistines: and they slew of the army in the field about four thousand men.” As the shattered and disheartened force returned to their encampment, “the elders of Israel said, Wherefore hath the Lord smitten us today before the Philistines?” The nation was ripe for the judgments of God, yet they did not see that their own sins had been the cause of this terrible disaster. And they said, “Let us fetch the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of Shiloh unto us, that, when it cometh among us, it may save us out of the hand of our enemies.” The Lord had given no command or permission that the ark should come into the army; yet the Israelites felt confident that victory would be theirs, and uttered a great shout when it was borne into the camp by the sons of Eli.

The Philistines looked upon the ark as the god of Israel. All the mighty works that Jehovah had wrought for His people were attributed to its power. As they heard the shouts of joy at its approach, they said, “What meaneth the noise of this great shout in the camp of the Hebrews? And they understood that the ark of the Lord was come into the camp. And the Philistines were afraid; for they said, God has come into the camp. And they said, Woe unto us! for there hath not been such a thing heretofore. Woe unto us! who shall deliver us out of the hand of these mighty Gods? These are the Gods that smote the Egyptians with all the plagues in the wilderness. Be strong, and quit yourselves like men, O ye Philistines, that ye be not servants unto the Hebrews, as they have been to you: quit yourselves like men, and fight.”

The Philistines made a fierce assault, which resulted in the defeat of Israel, with great slaughter. Thirty thousand men lay dead upon the field, and the ark of God was taken, the two sons of Eli having fallen while fighting to defend it. Thus again was left upon the page of history a testimony for all future ages—that the iniquity of God's professed people will not go unpunished. The greater the knowledge of God's will, the greater the sin of those who disregard it.

The most terrifying calamity that could occur had befallen Israel. The ark of God had been captured, and was in the possession of the enemy. The glory had indeed departed from Israel when the symbol of the abiding presence and power of Jehovah was removed from the midst of them. With this sacred chest were associated the most wonderful revelations of God's truth and power. In former days miraculous victories had been achieved whenever it appeared. It was shadowed by the wings of the golden cherubim, and the unspeakable glory of the Shekinah, the visible symbol of the most high God, had rested over it in the holy of holies. But now it had brought no victory. It had not proved a defense on this occasion, and there was mourning throughout Israel.

They had not realized that their faith was only a nominal faith, and had lost its power to prevail with God. The law of God, contained in the ark, was also a symbol of His presence; but they had cast contempt upon the commandments, had despised their requirements, and had grieved the Spirit of the Lord from among them. When the people obeyed the holy precepts, the Lord was with them to work for them by His infinite power; but when they looked upon the ark, and did not associate it with God, nor honor His revealed will by obedience to His law, it could avail them little more than a common box. They looked to the ark as the idolatrous nations looked to their gods, as if it possessed in itself the elements of power and salvation. They transgressed the law it contained; for their very worship of the ark led to formalism, hypocrisy, and idolatry. Their sin had separated them from God, and He could not give them the victory until they had repented of and forsaken their iniquity.

It was not enough that the ark and the sanctuary were in the midst of Israel. It was not enough that the priests offered sacrifices, and that the people were called the children of God. The Lord does not regard the request of those who cherish iniquity in the heart; it is written that “he that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination.” Proverbs 28:9.

When the army went out to battle, Eli, blind and old, had tarried at Shiloh. It was with troubled forebodings that he awaited the result of the conflict; “for his heart trembled for the ark of God.” Taking his position outside the gate of the tabernacle, he sat by the highway side day after day, anxiously expecting the arrival of a messenger from the battlefield.

At length a Benjamite from the army, “with his clothes rent, and with earth upon his head,” came hurrying up the ascent leading to the city. Passing heedlessly the aged man beside the way, he rushed on to the town, and repeated to eager throngs the tidings of defeat and loss.

The sound of wailing and lamentation reached the watcher beside the tabernacle. The messenger was brought to him. And the man said unto Eli, “Israel is fled before the Philistines, and there hath been also a great slaughter among the people, and thy two sons also, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead.” Eli could endure all this, terrible as it was, for he had expected it. But when the messenger added, “And the ark of God is taken,” a look of unutterable anguish passed over his countenance. The thought that his sin had thus dishonored God and caused Him to withdraw His presence from Israel was more than he could bear; his strength was gone, he fell, “and his neck brake, and he died.”

The wife of Phinehas, notwithstanding the impiety of her husband, was a woman who feared the Lord. The death of her father-in-law and her husband, and above all, the terrible tidings that the ark of God was taken, caused her death. She felt that the last hope of Israel was gone; and she named the child born in this hour of adversity, Ichabod, or “inglorious;” with her dying breath mournfully repeating the words, “The glory is departed from Israel: for the ark of God is taken.”

But the Lord had not wholly cast aside His people, nor would He long suffer the exultation of the heathen. He had used the Philistines as the instrument to punish Israel, and He employed the ark to punish the Philistines. In time past the divine Presence had attended it, to be the strength and glory of His obedient people. That invisible Presence would still attend it, to bring terror and destruction to the transgressors of His holy law. The Lord often employs His bitterest enemies to punish the unfaithfulness of His professed people. The wicked may triumph for a time as they see Israel suffering chastisement, but the time will come when they, too, must meet the sentence of a holy, sin-hating God. Whenever iniquity is cherished, there, swift and unerring, the divine judgments will follow.

The Philistines removed the ark in triumph to Ashdod, one of their five principal cities, and placed it in the house of their god Dagon. They imagined that the power which had hitherto attended the ark would be theirs, and that this, united with the power of Dagon, would render them invincible. But upon entering the temple on the following day, they beheld a sight which filled them with consternation. Dagon had fallen upon his face to the earth before the ark of Jehovah. The priests reverently lifted the idol and restored it to its place. But the next morning they found it, strangely mutilated, again lying upon the earth before the ark. The upper part of this idol was like that of a man, and the lower part was in the likeness of a fish. Now every part that resembled the human form had been cut off, and only the body of the fish remained. Priests and people were horror-struck; they looked upon this mysterious event as an evil omen, foreboding destruction to themselves and their idols before the God of the Hebrews. They now removed the ark from their temple and placed it in a building by itself.

The inhabitants of Ashdod were smitten with a distressing and fatal disease. Remembering the plagues that were inflicted upon Egypt by the God of Israel, the people attributed their afflictions to the presence of the ark among them. It was decided to convey it to Gath. But the plague followed close upon its removal, and the men of that city sent it to Ekron. Here the people received it with terror, crying, “They have brought about the ark of the God of Israel to us, to slay us and our people.” They turned to their gods for protection, as the people of Gath and Ashdod had done; but the work of the destroyer went on, until, in their distress, “the cry of the city went up to heaven.” Fearing longer to retain the ark among the homes of men, the people next placed it in the open field. There followed a plague of mice, which infested the land, destroying the products of the soil, both in the storehouse and in the field. Utter destruction, by disease or famine, now threatened the nation.

For seven months the ark remained in Philistia, and during all this time the Israelites made no effort for its recovery. But the Philistines were now as anxious to free themselves from its presence as they had been to obtain it. Instead of being a source of strength to them, it was a great burden and a heavy curse. Yet they knew not what course to pursue; for wherever it went the judgments of God followed. The people called for the princes of the nation, with the priests and diviners, and eagerly inquired, “What shall we do to the ark of Jehovah? tell us wherewith we shall send it to his place?” They were advised to return it with a costly trespass offering. “Then,” said the priests, “ye shall be healed, and it shall be known to you why His hand is not removed from you.”

To ward off or to remove a plague, it was anciently the custom among the heathen to make an image in gold, silver, or other material, of that which caused the destruction, or of the object or part of the body specially affected. This was set up on a pillar or in some conspicuous place, and was supposed to be an effectual protection against the evils thus represented. A similar practice still exists among some heathen peoples. When a person suffering from disease goes for cure to the temple of his idol, he carries with him a figure of the part affected, which he presents as an offering to his god.

It was in accordance with the prevailing superstition that the Philistine lords directed the people to make representations of the plagues by which they had been afflicted—“five golden emerods, and five golden mice, according to the number of the lords of the Philistines: for,” said they, “one plague was on you all, and on your lords.”

These wise men acknowledged a mysterious power accompanying the ark—a power which they had no wisdom to meet. Yet they did not counsel the people to turn from their idolatry to serve the Lord. They still hated the God of Israel, though compelled by overwhelming judgments to submit to His authority. Thus sinners may be convinced by the judgments of God that it is in vain to contend against Him. They may be compelled to submit to His power, while at heart they rebel against His control. Such submission cannot save the sinner. The heart must be yielded to God—must be subdued by divine grace—before man's repentance can be accepted.

How great is the long-suffering of God toward the wicked! The idolatrous Philistines and backsliding Israel had alike enjoyed the gifts of His providence. Ten thousand unnoticed mercies were silently falling in the pathway of ungrateful, rebellious men. Every blessing spoke to them of the Giver, but they were indifferent to His love. The forbearance of God was very great toward the children of men; but when they stubbornly persisted in their impenitence, He removed from them His protecting hand. They refused to listen to the voice of God in His created works, and in the warnings, counsels, and reproofs of His word, and thus He was forced to speak to them through judgments.

There were some among the Philistines who stood ready to oppose the return of the ark to its own land. Such an acknowledgment of the power of Israel's God would be humiliating to the pride of Philistia. But “the priests and the diviners” admonished the people not to imitate the stubbornness of Pharaoh and the Egyptians, and thus bring upon themselves still greater afflictions. A plan which won the consent of all was now proposed, and immediately put in execution. The ark, with the golden trespass offering, was placed upon a new cart, thus precluding all danger of defilement; to this cart, or car, were attached two kine upon whose necks a yoke had never been placed. Their calves were shut up at home, and the cows were left free to go where they pleased. If the ark should thus be returned to the Israelites by the way of Beth-shemesh, the nearest city of the Levites, the Philistines would accept this as evidence that the God of Israel had done unto them this great evil; “but if not,” they said, “then we shall know that it is not His hand that smote us; it was a chance that happened to us.”

On being set free, the kine turned from their young and, lowing as they went, took the direct road to Beth-shemesh. Guided by no human hand, the patient animals kept on their way. The divine Presence accompanied the ark, and it passed on safely to the very place designated.

It was now the time of wheat harvest, and the men of Beth-shemesh were reaping in the valley. “And they lifted up their eyes, and saw the ark, and rejoiced to see it. And the cart came into the field of Joshua, a Beth-shemite, and stood there, where there was a great stone: and they clave the wood of the cart, and offered the kine of burnt-offering unto the Lord.” The lords of the Philistines, who had followed the ark “unto the border of Beth-shemesh,” and had witnessed its reception, now returned to Ekron. The plague had ceased, and they were convinced that their calamities had been a judgment from the God of Israel.

The men of Beth-shemesh quickly spread the tidings that the ark was in their possession, and the people from the surrounding country flocked to welcome its return. The ark had been placed upon the stone that first served for an altar, and before it additional sacrifices were offered unto the Lord. Had the worshipers repented of their sins, God's blessing would have attended them. But they were not faithfully obeying His law; and while they rejoiced at the return of the ark as a harbinger of good, they had no true sense of its sacredness. Instead of preparing a suitable place for its reception, they permitted it to remain in the harvest field. As they continued to gaze upon the sacred chest and to talk of the wonderful manner in which it had been restored, they began to conjecture wherein lay its peculiar power. At last, overcome by curiosity, they removed the coverings and ventured to open it.

All Israel had been taught to regard the ark with awe and reverence. When required to remove it from place to place the Levites were not so much as to look upon it. Only once a year was the high priest permitted to behold the ark of God. Even the heathen Philistines had not dared to remove its coverings. Angels of heaven, unseen, ever attended it in all its journeyings. The irreverent daring of the people at Beth-shemesh was speedily punished. Many were smitten with sudden death.

The survivors were not led by this judgment to repent of their sin, but only to regard the ark with superstitious fear. Eager to be free from its presence, yet not daring to remove it, the Beth-shemites sent a message to the inhabitants of Kirjath-jearim, inviting them to take it away. With great joy the men of this place welcomed the sacred chest. They knew that it was the pledge of divine favor to the obedient and faithful. With solemn gladness they brought it to their city and placed it in the house of Abinadab, a Levite. This man appointed his son Eleazar to take charge of it, and it remained there for many years.

During the years since the Lord first manifested Himself to the son of Hannah, Samuel's call to the prophetic office had come to be acknowledged by the whole nation. By faithfully delivering the divine warning to the house of Eli, painful and trying as the duty had been, Samuel had given proof of his fidelity as Jehovah's messenger; “and the Lord was with him, and did let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan even to Beersheba knew that Samuel was established to be a prophet of the Lord.”

The Israelites as a nation still continued in a state of irreligion and idolatry, and as a punishment they remained in subjection to the Philistines. During this time Samuel visited the cities and villages throughout the land, seeking to turn the hearts of the people to the God of their fathers; and his efforts were not without good results. After suffering the oppression of their enemies for twenty years, the Israelites “mourned after the Lord.” Samuel counseled them, “If ye do return unto the Lord with all your hearts, then put away the strange gods and Ashtaroth from among you, and prepare your hearts unto the Lord, and serve Him only.” Here we see that practical piety, heart religion, was taught in the days of Samuel as taught by Christ when He was upon the earth. Without the grace of Christ the outward forms of religion were valueless to ancient Israel. They are the same to modern Israel.

There is need today of such a revival of true heart religion as was experienced by ancient Israel. Repentance is the first step that must be taken by all who would return to God. No one can do this work for another. We must individually humble our souls before God and put away our idols. When we have done all that we can do, the Lord will manifest to us His salvation.

With the co-operation of the heads of the tribes, a large assembly was gathered at Mizpeh. Here a solemn fast was held. With deep humiliation the people confessed their sins; and as an evidence of their determination to obey the instructions they had heard, they invested Samuel with the authority of judge.

The Philistines interpreted this gathering to be a council of war, and with a strong force set out to disperse the Israelites before their plans could be matured. The tidings of their approach caused great terror in Israel. The people entreated Samuel, “Cease not to cry unto the Lord our God for us, that He will save us out of the hand of the Philistines.”

While Samuel was in the act of presenting a lamb as a burnt offering, the Philistines drew near for battle. Then the Mighty One who had descended upon Sinai amid fire and smoke and thunder, who had parted the Red Sea and made a way through Jordan for the children of Israel, again manifested His power. A terrible storm burst upon the advancing host, and the earth was strewn with the dead bodies of mighty warriors.

The Israelites had stood in silent awe, trembling with hope and fear. When they beheld the slaughter of their enemies, they knew that God had accepted their repentance. Though unprepared for battle, they seized the weapons of the slaughtered Philistines and pursued the fleeing host to Beth-car. This signal victory was gained upon the very field where, twenty years before, Israel had been smitten before the Philistines, the priests slain, and the ark of God taken. For nations as well as for individuals, the path of obedience to God is the path of safety and happiness, while that of transgression leads only to disaster and defeat. The Philistines were now so completely subdued that they surrendered the strongholds which had been taken from Israel and refrained from acts of hostility for many years. Other nations followed this example, and the Israelites enjoyed peace until the close of Samuel's sole administration.

That the occasion might never be forgotten, Samuel set up, between Mizpeh and Shen, a great stone as a memorial. He called the name of it Ebenezer, “the stone of help,” saying to the people, “hitherto hath Jehovah helped us.”

[christsinterdenominationalmin]

CHRIST'S EPISTLE

JESUS OUR PERFECT EXAMPLE 2C

Matthew 4:1‭-‬4

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And when He had fasted forty days and forty nights, afterward He was hungry. Now when the tempter came to Him, he said, “If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.” But He answered and said, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’ ”

Welcome to another edition of Christ's Epistle.

Jesus answered the devil: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’ ”

Jesus didn't need to think about where to get a reply from, he just spoke the word he had filled himself with.

If Jesus didn't have the word richly abiding in him, he would have been in want of the correct reply for the temptation.

The Word of God must become our daily food. Just like we plan to eat three/four meals everyday, we must also plan to study the word and fill our minds with it daily.

When you are starved of the word, you will lack nourishment for your life and that will lead to sickness not just spiritually but also physically because the word brings health to our flesh.

When we lack the word, we won't have the sword because the word is the sword of the spirit which will lead to numerous physical circular losses. We lose our battles because we don't have weapons to fight.

When you lack the word, you will lack God. The word is God and God is the Word, they are inseparable. You can't carry God's presence when you lack His person. You can't claim to be hearing from him when you lack him. You can't claim to have his direction when you lack him. You can't claim to be led by His Spirit when you lack Him.

I challenge you today to establish proper bible study protocols that will ensure you are full of God any day anytime.

David said in Psalms 119:103; How sweet are Your words to my taste, Sweeter than honey to my mouth!

The Word is food for our Spirit, soul and body.

Let's continue tomorrow.

Let us pray; Father, thank you for your word, I make a commitment to study your word daily, I commit myself to understanding and obeying your word daily. I will eat your word like I eat my physical food, thank you Father, in Jesus name, Amen.

I encourage you to spend some time praying in tongues daily.

For Spiritual Growth and Counseling

Join us this Sunday by 4pm

Christ's Interdenominational Ministry

The School beside The Football Field in Jabu

Jabu - Dutse Alhaji

08038920118

Apostle Ebenezer Mohie

[peckhampeculiar]

Homecoming joy

Ayo-Dele Edwards' work is inspired by a rich mix of British and Nigerian musical and cultural influences. The singer-songwriter and actor tells us more

WORDS BY ROSARIO BLUE; PHOTO BY EMMANUEL EDWARDS

It’s not easy to pursue a dream. But for Ayo-Dele Edwards, the sense of accomplishment makes all the blood, sweat and tears worthwhile.

Among the Lewisham resident’s many achievements are the penning of her debut album Forever Becoming, released in 2012, and her one-woman show Becoming, based on songs from the album. It recently enjoyed a short, sold-out run at the Stratford Circus Arts Centre as part of International Women’s Day 2019.

Ayo-Dele is also an actor, and has performed at venues from the Royal Court to the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Her credits include The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, a story of sexual politics and family strife in modern-day Nigeria. It ran at the Arcola Theatre in Hackney – receiving a five-star review from the Guardian – toured in Nigeria and has just aired on BBC Radio 3.

Ayo-Dele, which means “my joy has come home” in Yoruba, was born in London, the fourth child of her Nigerian parents. Her family moved back to Nigeria when she was three.

There she adjusted to a new way of life, surrounded by a multitude of musical rhythms and sounds.

However, the family didn’t have a home to go to, so she lived a “nomadic” existence, staying with various relatives rather than her parents and siblings – an experience she found difficult.

Her journey into music began with her church choir. While living in Abeokuta, she found herself drawn to the genre of gospel, with its talking drums and lyrical voices.

“It was the joy,” she says. “It was the music that drew me to church, because the life that I was living was so sad, and I didn’t have family around me. Church was my escape.”

After six years, Ayo-Dele moved back to London aged 10 with her mum and went straight into school, with little time to adjust to the stark change in culture and environment.

At the same time her older brother introduced her to a variety of other music, including rare groove, pop, R&B and soul. Inspired by artists such as King Sunny Adé, Ebenezer Obey, Good Women Choir, Bob Marley and Fela Kuti, her desire to sing intensified.

Later on, seeking a new direction in life, she left the Nigerian white garment church she had attended since early childhood and joined a Pentecostal church. “It was just like, ‘Something needs to change’,” she says. “And even though I didn’t really know God in that way I felt like something needed to happen.

“I didn’t have a relationship with Jesus and I didn’t know that the Holy Spirit was there to help me, to guide me, to protect me, to counsel me, to just be there for me.”

Her life changed again when she gave birth to a daughter. “It was after I had her that I gave my life, I rededicated my life to Jesus. I was like, ‘I want to know who this man is, I want to do it his way.’

“I wanted to know what I was going to offer this girl because I was 21, I had no direction, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.”

With her faith reborn and a healthy daughter to be proud of, Ayo-Dele took another leap of faith and applied to drama school. Her application was successful and she joined the renowned Mountview theatre academy in Wood Green, before it moved to Peckham in 2018.

Her experience of drama school, where she studied for three years, was very different to that of her fellow students.

“Because I had my daughter, I didn’t even get involved in student life. I was the only student who had a child. I was just in and out. I was like, ‘I need to sort my life out, I’m not here to get drunk at night and go off and be wild. I’ve got to be responsible for my child.’”

While at drama school she began session singing for bands like Boyzone and doing TV shows. When her daughter turned five, she met her husband Emmanuel Edwards, a musician and music producer.

In 2002 she joined award-winning gospel group GK Real, who were together for 10 years. “We did an album with the group. I sang a few songs on that and even then, I didn’t particularly see myself as a soloist.

“I liked being in a group, but it wasn’t until after the group decided to go on a break that my husband was like, ‘OK, so what are you going to do with your stuff? You’ve got a story and you’ve got songs in you, so you should consider putting out an album.’”

After careful consideration she decided to give it a shot and set about recording some tracks.

“It was just pulling together all the songs that I’d sung, written, that I’d hum around the house. We went into the studio and I sang them for him and he was like, ‘Yeah’.”

The result, Forever Becoming, is a highly personal album that is an eclectic mixture of Nigerian rhythms, gospel and pop, sung in Yoruba and English.

It explores Ayo-Dele’s dual identity, and addresses her painful memories and harsh realities. Despite all of this there is a sentiment of hope and overcoming adversity threaded through each song.

Titilayo, the first track from the album, is the name of Ayo-Dele’s sister who had become estranged from the family. Ayo-Dele wrote the song on her mother’s behalf and as an expression of how much she herself missed her sister and the unity their family once had.

“It’s kind of that prayer of wanting to see your family reconciled, and wanting to see your family together again,” she explains.

Other tracks include a Yoruba rendition of Gershwin’s Summertime and a musical reimagining of Psalm 91, as well as Daddy’s Girl, a song about longing for a relationship that never was and how that absence can negatively manifest itself in adulthood.

Following a TEDxEuston talk about her experiences of growing up in Nigeria and Britain (it’s available to watch on YouTube) and a music and storytelling-filled album launch directed by Femi Elufowoju Jr, a friend of Ayo-Dele’s suggested she make the album into a one-woman show.

“We began to listen to the album again and he asked me what the stories were. I told him and we did a couple of showcases [at the Arcola Theatre] where we tested it out for an audience to see if it was actually worth pursuing.

“Everyone was like, ‘We need more – more songs. What happened here? What happened there? Tell us more.’ So, I did that.”

If she is able to secure funding, Ayo-Dele plans to tour Becoming in various UK theatres in 2020. She also wants to do more work in the local community, especially now that her youngest daughter is in school.

“I tend to travel a lot for work and then come back home [to Lewisham] to sleep, but now because I have a five year old and she’s in a school in Blackheath, I’m trying to connect more with the community.”

Get ready to see a lot more of Ayo- Dele in 2020.

Forever Becoming is available on iTunes, Apple Music and Spotify. ayo-dele.com

[lewishamledger]

Homecoming joy

Ayo-Dele Edwards' work is inspired by a rich mix of British and Nigerian musical and cultural influences. The singer-songwriter and actor tells us more

WORDS BY ROSARIO BLUE; PHOTO BY EMMANUEL EDWARDS

It’s not easy to pursue a dream. But for Ayo-Dele Edwards, the sense of accomplishment makes all the blood, sweat and tears worthwhile.

Among the Lewisham resident’s many achievements are the penning of her debut album Forever Becoming, released in 2012, and her one-woman show Becoming, based on songs from the album. It recently enjoyed a short, sold-out run at the Stratford Circus Arts Centre as part of International Women’s Day 2019.

Ayo-Dele is also an actor, and has performed at venues from the Royal Court to the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Her credits include The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, a story of sexual politics and family strife in modern-day Nigeria. It ran at the Arcola Theatre in Hackney – receiving a five-star review from the Guardian – toured in Nigeria and has just aired on BBC Radio 3.

Ayo-Dele, which means “my joy has come home” in Yoruba, was born in London, the fourth child of her Nigerian parents. Her family moved back to Nigeria when she was three.

There she adjusted to a new way of life, surrounded by a multitude of musical rhythms and sounds.

However, the family didn’t have a home to go to, so she lived a “nomadic” existence, staying with various relatives rather than her parents and siblings – an experience she found difficult.

Her journey into music began with her church choir. While living in Abeokuta, she found herself drawn to the genre of gospel, with its talking drums and lyrical voices.

“It was the joy,” she says. “It was the music that drew me to church, because the life that I was living was so sad, and I didn’t have family around me. Church was my escape.”

After six years, Ayo-Dele moved back to London aged 10 with her mum and went straight into school, with little time to adjust to the stark change in culture and environment.

At the same time her older brother introduced her to a variety of other music, including rare groove, pop, R&B and soul. Inspired by artists such as King Sunny Adé, Ebenezer Obey, Good Women Choir, Bob Marley and Fela Kuti, her desire to sing intensified.

Later on, seeking a new direction in life, she left the Nigerian white garment church she had attended since early childhood and joined a Pentecostal church. “It was just like, ‘Something needs to change’,” she says. “And even though I didn’t really know God in that way I felt like something needed to happen.

“I didn’t have a relationship with Jesus and I didn’t know that the Holy Spirit was there to help me, to guide me, to protect me, to counsel me, to just be there for me.”

Her life changed again when she gave birth to a daughter. “It was after I had her that I gave my life, I rededicated my life to Jesus. I was like, ‘I want to know who this man is, I want to do it his way.’

“I wanted to know what I was going to offer this girl because I was 21, I had no direction, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.”

With her faith reborn and a healthy daughter to be proud of, Ayo-Dele took another leap of faith and applied to drama school. Her application was successful and she joined the renowned Mountview theatre academy in Wood Green, before it moved to Peckham in 2018.

Her experience of drama school, where she studied for three years, was very different to that of her fellow students.

“Because I had my daughter, I didn’t even get involved in student life. I was the only student who had a child. I was just in and out. I was like, ‘I need to sort my life out, I’m not here to get drunk at night and go off and be wild. I’ve got to be responsible for my child.’”

While at drama school she began session singing for bands like Boyzone and doing TV shows. When her daughter turned five, she met her husband Emmanuel Edwards, a musician and music producer.

In 2002 she joined award-winning gospel group GK Real, who were together for 10 years. “We did an album with the group. I sang a few songs on that and even then, I didn’t particularly see myself as a soloist.

“I liked being in a group, but it wasn’t until after the group decided to go on a break that my husband was like, ‘OK, so what are you going to do with your stuff? You’ve got a story and you’ve got songs in you, so you should consider putting out an album.’”

After careful consideration she decided to give it a shot and set about recording some tracks.

“It was just pulling together all the songs that I’d sung, written, that I’d hum around the house. We went into the studio and I sang them for him and he was like, ‘Yeah’.”

The result, Forever Becoming, is a highly personal album that is an eclectic mixture of Nigerian rhythms, gospel and pop, sung in Yoruba and English.

It explores Ayo-Dele’s dual identity, and addresses her painful memories and harsh realities. Despite all of this there is a sentiment of hope and overcoming adversity threaded through each song.

Titilayo, the first track from the album, is the name of Ayo-Dele’s sister who had become estranged from the family. Ayo-Dele wrote the song on her mother’s behalf and as an expression of how much she herself missed her sister and the unity their family once had.

“It’s kind of that prayer of wanting to see your family reconciled, and wanting to see your family together again,” she explains.

Other tracks include a Yoruba rendition of Gershwin’s Summertime and a musical reimagining of Psalm 91, as well as Daddy’s Girl, a song about longing for a relationship that never was and how that absence can negatively manifest itself in adulthood.

Following a TEDxEuston talk about her experiences of growing up in Nigeria and Britain (it’s available to watch on YouTube) and a music and storytelling-filled album launch directed by Femi Elufowoju Jr, a friend of Ayo-Dele’s suggested she make the album into a one-woman show.

“We began to listen to the album again and he asked me what the stories were. I told him and we did a couple of showcases [at the Arcola Theatre] where we tested it out for an audience to see if it was actually worth pursuing.

“Everyone was like, ‘We need more – more songs. What happened here? What happened there? Tell us more.’ So, I did that.”

If she is able to secure funding, Ayo-Dele plans to tour Becoming in various UK theatres in 2020. She also wants to do more work in the local community, especially now that her youngest daughter is in school.

“I tend to travel a lot for work and then come back home [to Lewisham] to sleep, but now because I have a five year old and she’s in a school in Blackheath, I’m trying to connect more with the community.”

Get ready to see a lot more of Ayo- Dele in 2020.

Forever Becoming is available on iTunes, Apple Music and Spotify. ayo-dele.com

[9jamusicmixtapes]

Seyi Adura is a singer/songwriter from South East London. Born Oluwaseyi Mercy Adurasanmi Omotayo, her love for music started at the age of 5 where she would regularly perform at school plays, choirs and festivals. Raised in a Nigerian household, 

Seyi developed her diverse taste in music through a combination of cultural and social influences. Her church based upbringing coupled with her parents’ vast musical collection allowed her to absorb an eclectic mix of musical styles and techniques. Seyi has also created a solid foundation for herself by completing a master’s degree in mechanical engineering. Despite obtaining a 2.1 with honours and working in the industry, her passion for music has never left and she continued to pursue her music and harness her craft.  Being in touch with and thriving from her heritage, Seyi constantly travels back to Nigeria from the UK to immerse herself in the culture whilst staying ahead of the latest musical trends.  In 2012 Seyi lived in Nigeria for a year and caught onto the already evolving Afrobeat/Afropop scene. Having been raised on the greats such as Sunny Ade, Fela, Ebenezer Obey and Shina Peters, Seyi was amazed and excited by the growth, potential and inevitable success of the Nigerian and African diaspora music scene and its mainstream appeal. After collaborating with Producer StGthaprodigy (who has worked with a number of high profile artists such as Wizkid, Burna Boy, Tiwa Savage, Davido and King Perry) for over a year, they have created the perfect blend of soothing vocals infused with the undeniably rhythmic Afro sounds. She now prepares to make her mark on the scene with her debut single “Koma Gbon”.

Twitter: @seyiadura 

Instagram: @seyiadura

Facebook: @seyiaduraofficial

  DOWNLOAD MUSIC: Seyi Adura - Koma Gbon