Every woman has a story to tell, yet I rose.

And each one has its own bends and twists, yet I rose.

Hers predated as a child christened by an alien, yet she rose.

She called her, ‘Niger Area’ Nigeria, yet she rose.

Like Jabez, she was pre-loaded with honour and blessedness, yet she rose.

Though my pre-and-post natal experiences weren’t peculiar as a woman, yet I rose.

Morning sickness, excessive urination, vomiting, edema, yet I rose.


Protruding belly, inflated mammary glands, black patches, increase in weight just to mention a few, yet I rose.

Alien midwives colonized and extended my delivery period, yet I rose.

My pregnancy was commercialized. It was torturous, yet I rose.

Providence and external forces broke the waters to usher in a painful delivery, yet I rose.

Yes, it was a cute little angel! Cultural gender expectation was disappointed, yet I rose.

But like a beautiful, golden child, she was courted by strangers, yet I rose.


They were evil star-gazers. They saw into her bright future and became envious. Yet I rose.

They saw beyond the ephemerals into her unique giftedness and loads of resources. Yet I rose.

“We must stop or at least rob her of self-expression”, so they conspired. Yet she rose.

Several illegal adoptions were made to keep my only daughter away from me. Yet I rose.

Her first foster parents were multicultural, yet she rose.


Oh, how she dreaded the sight of her father’s military uniforms. Yet she rose.

Her uniformed parents instilled discipline at a cost. Yet she rose.

Father violated her Universal Human Rights, yet she rose.

Providence intervened again, another breed of parents filed for adoption, yet she rose.

How she loved her ice-creams and lolly-pops though at a cost. Yet she rose.

They professed and promised equity, fairness and freedom. What a big fat lie! Yet she rose.

As an adult, she narrated her ordeals in the hands of abusive fathers. Yet she rose.

Her memory was soiled by bouts of rapes and molestations. Yet she rose.

How he turned her scared breasts into public cistern! Yet she rose.

He was callous, yet she rose.

Providence set deliverance mechanism in motion as always or so she thought. Yet she rose.

Her destiny was balloted at the polls every other four years. Yet she rose.

It was a frying-pan-to-fire experience, yet she rose.

Every succession experience wasn’t better but bitter, yet she rose.


The products of her unholy matrimony are anguish, bitterness and more anguish.Yet she rose.

The looting of her resources was mindless and impunitious.Yet she rose.

In evil conspiracy, her children were turned against one another under the pseudo guise of politics, religion and ethnicity. Yet she rose.

Now that she is five and half a decade old, she has a story to tell.


For the love of a country?


Olanrewaju Daodu

Principal Consultant

Development, Empowerment and Leadership Network