Dark
Light

Suggestions

MTN Cup: A Short Story by Caleb Okereke

January 13, 2024
19 mins read

By Caleb Okereke  Monday, July 27, 2015.It was Halima who had first told me that the new girl had come. She had overheard Mrs Oleh telling the other Igbo woman who dressed always in a green head tie and the beige white T-shirt with the words CHIOMA crawling over her bossom that the girl was on her way. But I had not believed her, I had not believed her also when Laila had in pretence brought kokoro wrapped in plastic bags to our room so she could talk to us.     “It is true what Halima says” she said. She sat on our soft Vita Foam that creased benignly as it accepted her weight. Her three tribal marks did not show in the receding evening sun and her skin, dark like Father’s shoe polish was almost invincible.  But I had not believed Laila either when the Navy blue Volvo had ridden into the yard that night and a broad shouldered man dressed in a stainless white tunic had come out of it. I had watched him pat the night dogs on their heads and then ruffle their furs with the haviour of someone who knew them quaintly.      It was the next morning, when the rays of dawn had just bathed the common room in a broad strip of its lavender light, when Mrs Oleh had asked us to eat breakfast hurriedly, to scrub the black tiles in the common room till they shone like the back of an oily frying pan placed in sunlight. It was when she told us to wear the blue dress with even pleats, the one we wore only when the Minister visited once a year, when she asked Lady to style our hairs with the creams she kept in slim, long glasses on her dresser. It was then Halima’s words had gained meaning.      “Zainab do you now see what I say?” Halima said, we were trimming the sunflowers that sat in broad vases around the common room with the secateurs from Lady’s wardrobe. Lady had styled her hair by parting it in two, and then twirling each of the parts into a lofty puff so that it looked like two oranges were placed atop her head. Later we would pick the trimmed parts lying on the floor and then weave them into beautiful articles for our hairs. “She would change things Zainab, she would” Halima said. There was fear in her voice, it quavered. She seemed different from the girl who had squeezed my hands tightly and then told me all would be well the first day I had come; this Halima was vulnerable, prone. Like the sunflower, it seemed Halima’s never waning courage had been trimmed but with secateurs of the new girl’s arrival. “You do not know for sure that it is her” I said, willing my words to be as I had spoken them. Perhaps it was the Minister, perhaps he had chosen to visit the centre twice this year. If I said it enough, if I told myself the words then they would become true. But I had not said them enough. I had not said them enough because before noon Mrs Oleh had asked us all to gather in the common room. Sixteen of us, Northerners and Government property having to live together in a child service centre had pranced down the stairs. Our leather slippers made slap slap sounds along the wooden stairs that punctuated the still air and our blue dresses blended with our matching blue hats so that when we stood in line, we looked like a strip of blue paint. I stared at Laila and then Halimat. I did not want their words to be true. I did not want them to be true because after the gathering, Mrs Oleh would walk up to one of us, the way she had walked up to that Aminat before she had left to one of the crowded reform centres. The evening of the day Laila had first come.        “Aminat the Minister called” she had said and Aminat ducked her face into her pillow sobbing loudly.  She left that night in a coaster bus with the words EASTERN PROVINCE CHILD AND TEEN CENTRE emblazoned on it. The driver had patted her warmly on the shoulder before giving her a slim wafer in green wrapping to chew. I never saw her again. I remembered even clearly now staring at the gaudy diamond neckpiece Mrs Oleh wore loosely around her neck the day I had first come. The day I had ridden in the Navy blue Volvo with the words HELPING HANDS REFORM CENTRE emblazoned on it. Perhaps, Mrs Oleh had made the girls scrub the tile floors too, perhaps she had made them trim the sunflowers or part the muslin drapes in half triangles so that dawn’s lavender rays could filter in. But the polished tile floors had shown, they had shown even when Darlington, who Lady replaced had led me up the stairs to my room. “What is your name?” she had asked me. The colour of her face, the soothing colour of brown leather calmed my nerves.  They somewhat reminded me of Father’s brown leather belt which he hung across the wardrobe door after work every evening. The belt had reeked of protection, of knowing Father would whip my second cousin and his servant boy Sanusi, if he dared fiddle with my nipples ever again, of knowing its cold leather straps would prick Sanusi’s tender coal coloured skin if he peeked at me through the keyhole when I bathed.  It was the same feeling I got when I stared at Darlington’s face, the feeling of protection in a world so unprotected. “Zainab” I muttered, so that I feared she would not hear. But she did. “Zainab, what a beautiful name and for a beautiful girl too” she smiled. I could tell it was what she told every girl, her “Beautiful” was the kind that was almost synonymous to good morning. It was the kind people said out of courtesy, of a conventional procedure. She continued “I’m sure you’d like it here. There are just sixteen of you” she said “you” as if we all were some kind of species, perhaps dogs or a breed of newly discovered mutants “Mrs Oleh tries to ensure they never exceed that. It is unlike the other reform centres that are so crowded they sleep in wardrobes” She laughed slightly as though it had been a joke “Nice woman, Mrs Oleh” I did not see Mrs Oleh as a nice woman, I did not see also the red boubou she had worn when she had shaken my hand vigorously to welcome me or the gaudy diamond neckpiece she had fiddled with when the Minister had called to confirm my arrival as articles to determine her niceness. Darlington told me also about the house rules, about bathing in groups of twos to save time, going to Mass every morning and then afternoon lessons. She told me too about keeping away from the ferocious dogs that guarded the yard at night, about never wearing trousers or dresses that held too tightly and fell before my knees. She said I would have to do away with my Hijab and jewelleries too if I had any. She said also that Mrs Oleh was a Christian and so was the organisation by default. I had cried that night because I knew Mother would cry too. Mother would cry if another had to look upon me without the holy covering of my Hijab. But Mother was shroud in the white Kafan, cloth in Father’s hometown. She was in the rectangular hollow like a deep freezer that Sanusi had joined the youths of our town to dig on the morning of the Janazah ceremony. She was also in the flowing white dress her tailor, Aunty Hiba had sewn and her nose was stuffed with so much cotton wool that I feared her soul would suffocate to death. Father had not felt that way. I knew because after he had thrown his oil ball, he had squeezed my hands and then pressed my shoulders close to his body so that I could smell the tangy Tony Montana perfume he had worn that morning. I knew also because I had seen Aunty Hiba in her slender Ankara skirt smiling warmly at him, pressing him too close to her body when he exchanged hugs with friends and family. So that when I saw her tiptoe into his room that night, when I heard the muffled moans of pleasure and heavy breathing sifting through the paper thin walls of his room, I had not been at all surprised. I had not been surprised either when he had called me to his study after breakfast the next day. He was drinking hot Lipton from the MTN cup Mother had always used in making his morning tea and his eyes were galled and flushing from behind steel rimmed glasses. It was the same study that had books with difficult titles-THE AMERICAN WHO SCREAMED BLACK, RACE AND THE COMMUNIST gaping out sideways as though they would fall like a pack of cards if prodded with a finger, the study that had also the portrait of a man with straw coloured hair and hanging on its wall smiling slightly as if smiling cost him effort. Father had called him Bill Clinton the other night. He had been talking to Dr Okenwa, his Igbo physician who smelled of camphor and dried tobacco. I did not like Dr Okenwa. He had had a certain scripted humility. He spoke too loudly when he and Father differed on an issue, but his voice lowered when they concord. It was as if, perhaps he saw himself as superior to Father, as more learned. This character he tried to hide behind the vigorous handshake he gave Father bowing slightly or the way he ran his hands across Papa’s books with rehearsed awe. When I met Mrs Oleh the first time, I had thought of him. Not because they were both Igbo but because they were similar, both too conscious of what people thought of them. Their lives were an open sore oozing the pus of people’s expectations. The year Mother’s illness had begun, Dr Okenwa’s visit increased.  At first Mother was taken to the medical centre for weeks but when she had returned home, he spent longer hours in Father’s study. During those hours their voices were not raised in conventional arguments. They did not mention “Clinton” “Communist” or say “Abacha!” with Dr Okenwa’s stress on second syllable intonation before he added in Igbo “Ekwuzina Ifa!” when Father said something he did not agree with. Father’s eyes were galled and flushing whenever Dr Okenwa closed the door to Mother’s bedroom with solemnity, like a memory one wanted to leave behind. Once, I had heard father ask. “How much time does she have?” I was seating at the dining, my head buried in my Integrated Science textbook. The door to Father’s study was slightly ajar and I could hear the sound of the MTN cup touch the wooden table. I had made Father’s Lipton that morning, because Mother had been too weak to, because her skin had become the ashen colour of cement and her eyes had reddened to the yellow orange of an improperly fanned coal stove. I had not made the Lipton too well. I had not known whether I had put too much Peak milk or too little cubes of St Louis sugar because I had never made it before. But Father had not complained, he had accepted the tray bearing the MTN cup and then patted me slightly on the cheek. “The Cancer has eaten deep into her cells” Dr Okenwa said and I felt Father sigh, I felt him sigh helplessly because I did too. Dr Okenwa had not directly answered Father’s question, yet Father had not asked again. Perhaps Dr Okenwa’s answer meant two years, or two months or even a week, but Father had not asked even though he could. It was as if he too knew, as if he too knew the words Dr Okenwa shied from speaking. I had asked Sanusi about Cancer that night when he had come up to my room. It was the second time he had tried to lie with me. I had threatened to tell Father and he had pleaded. The first time, Father had laced his brown belt with brackish Cameroon pepper and then taken him to his study. The slap slap sounds of leather landing against flesh echoed along the house simultaneously followed by the sound of Sanusi’s whimper so that it became somewhat a rhythm, somewhat like the fast paced Fela songs blaring from Father’s car stereo on Friday mornings. I had enjoyed the songs and I felt guilty for it, because Mother said they were lewd, because she buffeted when I bobbed my head to the beguile rhythm. Normally, Sanusi would tell me nothing about Cancer, he would tell me nothing about anything at all. But his nineteen year old unschooled wisdom was compensation for my not telling Father about his advances. “Bad thing, Cancer, kill fast fast” Sanusi said “It is what kill that my Aunty that time” I smiled slightly, I remembered Sanusi’s Aunt. Not in person, but in the blur of happenings during her illness. I remembered Mother emphasizing that I made Waraka, healing prayers to Allah for her during Jumat. I remembered also her giving him on many occasions’ plastic bags protuberant with bottles of Lucozade boost, tins of Glucose and Milo to take to the Medical centre. “The chemotherapy fail” Sanusi said the night she had died. Although I did not know what Chemotherapy was, I knew it was not his words he spoke. I knew also that most of Sanusi’s wisdom’s were meagre and that Chemotherapy was a too big word for his unschooled understanding. Yet, I had understood that night the mystery of Cancer. I had understood that it always killed people. He tiptoed out of my room then and for long, I thought on his answer. Although, he had echoed Dr Okenwa’s words about Cancer, they seemed largely different. His words did not have the precision in Dr Okenwa’s; they did not capture the essence, the sovereignty of Cancer. His words made Cancer into a joke, slight as a headache, broadened Cancer into a blunt idea than the tapering sharpness in Dr Okenwa’s. Dr Okenwa had died the Friday Aunty Hiba had first come to visit Mother. I heard Father tell her outside Mother’s bedroom door after she had placed the fried golden brown Chicken at Mother’s bedside that Dr Okenwa had been killed in a religious riot. That the religious bigots had thrown a tyre over his head like a floater, sprinkled petrol over him before burning him to crisp. Father had not turned on his stereo that morning and the absence of Fela’s voice singing in pidgin translated the silence into somewhat a dirge. I imagined Dr Okenwa in flames, I imagined his skin turning golden brown, like the Chicken Aunty Hiba had carried on a paisley tray to Mother’s bedroom. Perhaps he had ranted about “Abacha” or “Clinton” as the flame licked his cocoa coloured skin or he had stayed still, his lips pursed in silent prayer. Years later, when I would think about the inception of Aunty Hiba and Father’s relationship, I would think about that morning. When she had held Father Close, drowning his sobs in the puffs on her sequined blouse. Dr Okenwa’s replacement had come the next week. A young man with coffee coloured skin and eyebrows that were too far apart. Father referred to him not by his name but as “The University doctor” and did not talk with him about anything aside Mother’s ailment. The few times they spoke quite leisurely about a publishing house getting shut down or the forced exile of an assertive writer, there were evident undertones of business, of seriousness. Unlike with Dr Okenwa, they were not friends. Yet I liked the new man. Perhaps it was because I had not liked Dr Okenwa and because I felt liking his replacement would somehow bleed into my not liking him, would compensate his soul even in death with the knowledge that I was capable of liking a physician. But the new man was different; he was young and spoke soothing English so that pinpointing what part of the country he was from became a chore. The new man had the air of someone who perceived he was too special to the world, the air of effeminate people. Once Sanusi had called him “Dan Kishili, Homosexual”, a sneer had followed before he had muttered a curse under his breath for people who committed abominations. I had asked him for long what he meant but he had shrugged me off, and when I repeated his words to mother, she had placed her frail palm so quickly over my lips that my breath ceased. I never spoke of it again. But the second time I had heard the word mentioned was in Father’s study. It was the first time I had heard Father mention Clinton to The University doctor. “I do not agree with Clinton’s don’t ask, don’t tell policy” Father was saying, there was anger in his voice, hatred. “He is only trying to speak for the Homosexuals, to give them an equal playing field, an honourable thing to do” The University doctor replied and then Father had closed the door to his study. It was that day I had concluded that Homosexuality was a bad thing because Father did not agree with it, because it made anger refulgent in his voice, although I had not known what Homosexuality was. Yet, the first time Sanusi would lie with me, I would imagine the coffee coloured face of The University doctor panting and gasping over my naked body and not Sanusi’s. It was that day also that Aunty Hiba had walked into our living room with a pack of stainless white handkerchiefs. “The pastor at Word and Fire for freedom deliverance gave me this. He says it cures Cancer, he is a strong man” She said to Father, certainty palpable in her voice. Yet from the way she plodded to Mother’s bedroom, the handkerchiefs tucked underneath her arm, it was as if she too had doubted the words she had spoken. Mother had died that same week, on an afternoon it rained heavily and Father had sat at the dining table for long hours staring at the MTN cup. So that was why when I stood in Fathers study, the morning after Mother’s Janazah, I had known the words he wanted to say before he had said them.“Zainab I’m going to marry Aunty Hiba” he had said. Perhaps he had wanted me to cry, to prod my finger in his chest, mutter curses and plead under my breath, but I did not. I just stared at the portrait of the white man that hung on the wall wondering how he could do it so easily, how he could betray Mother and then drink hot Lipton from the MTN cup. “These things are not things you would understand. You are just fourteen and they might be quite complex, but I love Aunty Hiba and she has been a pillar through this time your mother passed” I could tell from the way he stared at the coagulated mass of creamy Peak milk adrift about his tea that it was not his words he spoke. I could tell also that it was the words of Aunty Hiba that she had sat him on the edge of his bed after their episode of intimacy and then advised him on the best way to convey such news to his fourteen year old daughter. But what I did not understand was how he could look upon Aunty Hiba’s nakedness, say the words he wanted to about marriage and then drink from Mother’s MTN cup without guilt choking him, drink and wince when the Lipton scalded his tongue as if nothing had changed. I did not understand either how he could wear the Tony Montana fragrance that Mother had so loved, that she had made him wear every morning before going to the railroad and still let the words slide down his tongue without effort. Sanusi had come up to my room that night after washing Father’s Nissan. He had fiddled with my nipples and then pulled my night dress over my head but I had not told father. They were married the next week, in a brief ceremony held in our living room. I sat on the veranda that night and watched the rustle of the Shea trees that lined our front yard. I watched their tips touch laxly like mourners holding hands at a funeral. Before, Mother would make Sanusi pick the nuts into large baskets from which we would extract their ivory coloured butter, she would press the butter into slim long glasses and then use them to oil our feet during the Harmattan so that it lay like an ivory glaze over our skin. I would sit on the veranda every day after that and listen to the door screech as father walked in. I would listen to Aunty Hiba say a weak “Welcome” in her convivial tenor that watered down every day. I would listen also to Father’s tired response, to the sound of their moans when he urged a kiss against her lips. And when the disputes began, when the door flung open rather than screeched, when Aunty Hiba’s “Welcome” was so gentle that I thought perhaps it was I who had imagined it, when father would pettifog about why she washed his orange tie instead of the blue, why she had put too much salt in the soup for dinner, when he would compare her to Mother who neatly placed his ties in order and woke by three to prepare his breakfast, I was on the veranda too. Soon, I waited even for the sounds of their fights, for Aunty Hiba to tug at her belly and threaten Father with the child she carried in her stomach. I waited to hear Father’s quavering voice when he said “You know my daughter is outside, don’t tempt me”. I wondered for long what he meant by “Don’t tempt me” and I had asked Sanusi about it when he came up to my room those nights. “Perhaps” he had said “They want to do the do, you know the kind of things I do to you” and he had tickled me till we both fell on the soft vita foam and I could feel his erection firm against my belly. But I did not wonder for long, for on the night Aunty Hiba had flung the MTN cup at Father till it shattered against the wall and left yellow shards on the living room floor, he had said she had tempted him beyond limit before he had started to hit her. I knew because I heard the leather strap of his belt jab her gentle skin, because I smelled the dried tears that clung to the air when I had come in that night. I knew also because Aunty Hiba had slept on the couch and not in Father’s bedroom, because she had rummaged through Mother’s things to find Aboniki balm which she had applied all over her body till the atmosphere tasted of the foul smell. And the next day, after she had left at the crack of dawn speaking on the phone with a man she addressed plainly as Supervisor, Father had called me to his study. “Zainab, some people would come” He had said “They would take you away. I’m so sorry, but they say they have to” his eyes were glassy from tears “They say they would put you in the best of those kinds of places. I’m sorry I can’t help you Zainab, I’m so sorry” It was that day the Navy blue Volvo had ridden into our yard, the day I had watched Mrs Oleh fiddle with her diamond neckpiece. Now, as I watched Mrs Oleh fiddle with her neckpiece and lady lead a girl clout in mufti into the common room, I thought for long about Father. “I want you all to meet Sochukwuma, she’d be staying with us from now on” Mrs Oleh said “Remember we’re all sisters” she clasped her hands together before we went in a neat file to hug the new girl and then say the words “God bless you, he loves you, we love you more” like lady had so painstakingly taught us to say. Before, we would press a kiss to the lip of the new person, but the gesture had been stopped since Darlington had been fired. Since Mrs Oleh had caught Darlington being intimate with one of the girls in her bedroom. Mrs Oleh had not told us, she did not tell us such things. But we knew, the same way we knew Mrs Oleh was unmarried though there was a “Mrs” before her name, golden band on her ring finger and though wrinkles like folded paper creased her forehead. I was making trimmed parts of the sunflowers into long strips that evening when I heard Mrs Oleh’s voice from down the stairs. Laila’s radio was blaring, the BBC newscaster was talking about a familiar name, Clinton, about an Improper sexual relationship seemly refulgent in her distinct English words. But Mrs Oleh’s voice carried from down the stairs. “Zainab, the Minister called” She said. And once more, I could see yellow shards splattered on a living room floor.Caleb Okereke is a Nigerian writer.            

MTN Cup: A Short Story by Caleb Okereke

No Comments currently posted | Add Comment

Comment on this Article

Your Name

Please provide your name

Email

Your Comment

//set data for hoidden fields
//transfer();
var viewMode = 1 ;
//============================================================================
//HTML Editor Scripts follow
//============================================================================
function exCom(target,CommandID,status,value)
{
document.getElementById(target).focus();
document.execCommand(CommandID,status,value);
}

function transfer()
{
var HTMLcnt = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_msgDiv1”).innerHTML;
var cnt = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_msgDiv1”).innerText;
var HTMLtarget = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_HTMLtxtMsg”)
var target = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_txtMsg”)

HTMLtarget.value = HTMLcnt;
target.value = cnt;
}

function hidePDIECLayers(f,p)
{
//e.style.display = ‘none’
f.style.display = ‘none’
p.style.display = ‘none’
}

function toggle(e)
{
if (e.style.display == “none”)
{
e.style.display = “”;
}
else
{
e.style.display = “none”;
}
}

function ToggleView()
{
var msgDiv = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_msgDiv1″);
if(viewMode == 1)
{
iHTML = msgDiv.innerHTML;
msgDiv.innerText = iHTML;
//alert(viewMode);
// Hide all controls
Buttons.style.display = ‘none’;
//selFont.style.display = ‘none’;
//selSize.style.display = ‘none’;
msgDiv.focus();

viewMode = 2; // Code
}
else
{
iText = msgDiv.innerText;
msgDiv.innerHTML = iText;

// Show all controls
Buttons.style.display = ‘inline’;
//selFont.style.display = ‘inline’;
//selSize.style.display = ‘inline’;
msgDiv.focus();

viewMode = 1; // WYSIWYG
}
}
function selOn(ctrl)
{
ctrl.style.borderColor = ‘#000000’;
ctrl.style.backgroundColor = ‘#ffffcc’;
ctrl.style.cursor = ‘hand’;
}

function selOff(ctrl)
{
ctrl.style.borderColor = ‘#9BC1DF’;
ctrl.style.backgroundColor = ”;
}

function selDown(ctrl)
{
ctrl.style.backgroundColor = ‘#8492B5’;
}

function selUp(ctrl)
{
ctrl.style.backgroundColor = ‘#B5BED6’;
}

                                                                                                            

Size 1

Size 2

Size 3

Size 4

Size 5

Size 6

Size 7

//give focus to the msgdiv… always otherwise save button will not save content.
var mDiv = document.getElementById(“ctl00_MainContent_txtComment_msgDiv1”);
try
{ mDiv.focus();}
catch(e)
{
//alert(‘Invisible’)
}
//if ( <> ‘none’)
//

  Send to a friend  |  

View/Hide Comments (0)   |  

  Print

Post Views: 486

373 Comments

  147. First off I want to say superb blog! I had a quick question in which I’d like to ask
    if you do not mind. I was curious to find out how you center yourself and
    clear your mind prior to writing. I have had trouble clearing my thoughts in getting my ideas out there.

    I truly do enjoy writing however it just seems like the first 10 to 15 minutes are generally wasted
    simply just trying to figure out how to begin. Any ideas or hints?
    Thank you!

    My webpage: the genius wave

    Reply

  173. Hello there, just became alert to your blog through Google, and found that it is really informative.
    I’m gonna watch out for brussels. I will be grateful if you continue this in future.
    Many people will be benefited from your writing.
    Cheers!

    Also visit my homepage jungle beast pro

    Reply

  174. Pretty great post. I just stumbled upon your weblog and wished to mention that I’ve truly enjoyed browsing your blog posts.

    In any case I will be subscribing to your feed and I’m hoping you write once more soon!

    Also visit my page; testoprime

    Reply

  179. I’m more than happy to discover this website. I wanted to thank you for ones time
    just for this wonderful read!! I definitely enjoyed every little bit of it and i
    also have you saved to fav to look at new information in your
    blog.

    Take a look at my page; quietum plus

    Reply

  184. It’s appropriate time to make a few plans for the future and it’s time to be happy.
    I have learn this put up and if I may I desire to recommend you some attention-grabbing things or suggestions.
    Maybe you can write next articles referring to this article.
    I wish to learn more issues about it!

    My website :: prostadine at walmart

    Reply

  191. I was curious if you ever thought of changing the structure of
    your site? Its very well written; I love what youve
    got to say. But maybe you could a little more in the way
    of content so people could connect with it better. Youve got an awful lot of text for only having one or two images.
    Maybe you could space it out better?

    Also visit my web page :: herpesyl reviews

    Reply

  195. I do not even know how I ended up here, but I thought this post was great.
    I do not know who you are but definitely you’re going to a famous blogger if you
    aren’t already 😉 Cheers!

    Reply

  197. Hello just wanted to give you a quick heads up. The text in your post seem to be
    running off the screen in Safari. I’m not sure if this is a formatting issue or something to
    do with web browser compatibility but I thought I’d post to
    let you know. The design and style look great though! Hope you get the issue resolved soon. Thanks

    Feel free to surf to my web blog nervefresh

    Reply

  200. Thank you for every other great post. Where else may just anybody get that kind of info in such a perfect approach of writing?
    I’ve a presentation subsequent week, and I’m on the look for
    such info.

    Check out my page – phen q

    Reply

  201. Hello! I’ve been following your web site for some time now and finally got the courage to
    go ahead and give you a shout out from New Caney Tx!

    Just wanted to mention keep up the excellent work!

    Reply

  203. wonderful publish, very informative. I’m wondering why the opposite specialists of this sector don’t understand this.
    You should proceed your writing. I am confident, you have a great readers’ base already!

    Look at my website: alpha bites

    Reply

  205. Hello there, I discovered your website by the use of Google even as looking for a similar
    matter, your website got here up, it appears to be like great.
    I’ve bookmarked it in my google bookmarks.
    Hello there, just changed into aware of your blog via Google,
    and found that it is truly informative. I’m gonna watch out for brussels.
    I will be grateful in the event you proceed this in future.
    Lots of folks might be benefited from your writing.
    Cheers!

    Here is my website – lottery defeater software reviews

    Reply

  207. When I initially left a comment I appear to have clicked the -Notify me when new
    comments are added- checkbox and now every time a comment is added I get 4 emails with the exact same
    comment. There has to be a means you are able to remove me
    from that service? Many thanks!

    My homepage; the growth matrix

    Reply

  216. Hi! Quick question that’s totally off topic. Do you know how to
    make your site mobile friendly? My weblog looks weird
    when browsing from my iphone 4. I’m trying to find a theme
    or plugin that might be able to correct this problem. If you have any suggestions, please share.

    Cheers!

    Have a look at my web blog – gluco freedom reviews

    Reply

  218. With havin so much content and articles do you ever run into any problems of plagorism
    or copyright violation? My website has a lot of
    exclusive content I’ve either created myself or outsourced but it seems a lot of it is popping it up all over the web without my authorization. Do
    you know any solutions to help protect against content
    from being ripped off? I’d truly appreciate it.

    Reply

  219. Please let me know if you’re looking for
    a writer for your weblog. You have some really great posts
    and I feel I would be a good asset. If you ever want to
    take some of the load off, I’d love to write some material for your blog in exchange for a link back to mine.
    Please blast me an e-mail if interested. Kudos!

    Also visit my blog post; the growth matrix

    Reply

  223. Do you mind if I quote a couple of your posts as
    long as I provide credit and sources back to your blog?

    My blog site is in the very same niche as yours and my users
    would definitely benefit from some of the information you provide here.
    Please let me know if this ok with you. Thanks a lot!

    My web blog :: tonic greens work

    Reply

  224. Hello would you mind sharing which blog platform you’re working with?
    I’m planning to start my own blog soon but I’m having a hard time selecting between BlogEngine/Wordpress/B2evolution and Drupal.
    The reason I ask is because your design and style seems different then most blogs and
    I’m looking for something unique. P.S Sorry for being off-topic but I had to ask!

    Feel free to visit my blog post: tonic greens

    Reply

  226. Hi! I know this is kind of off topic but I was
    wondering which blog platform are you using for this website?
    I’m getting sick and tired of WordPress because I’ve
    had problems with hackers and I’m looking at options for another platform.
    I would be fantastic if you could point me in the direction of a good platform.

    Also visit my homepage :: phenq

    Reply

  230. Wow that was strange. I just wrote an extremely long comment but after I clicked
    submit my comment didn’t appear. Grrrr… well I’m not writing all that over
    again. Anyhow, just wanted to say excellent blog!

    Also visit my web site; phenq

    Reply

  233. Good day! This is my first visit to your blog! We are a collection of volunteers and starting a new project in a community in the same
    niche. Your blog provided us useful information to work on. You have done a marvellous job!

    Here is my blog post: prodentim gum

    Reply

  237. Hi there! This is kind of off topic but I need some guidance
    from an established blog. Is it difficult to set up your own blog?

    I’m not very techincal but I can figure things out pretty fast.

    I’m thinking about making my own but I’m not sure where to begin. Do you have
    any tips or suggestions? Thank you

    Review my webpage: lottery results

    Reply

  246. After I originally commented I seem to have clicked on the -Notify me when new comments are added-
    checkbox and from now on whenever a comment is added I receive 4 emails with the same comment.

    Perhaps there is a way you can remove me from that service?
    Appreciate it!

    Stop by my blog post – fitspresso supplement

    Reply

  252. I know this if off topic but I’m looking into starting my
    own blog and was wondering what all is required to get set up?
    I’m assuming having a blog like yours would cost a pretty penny?

    I’m not very internet savvy so I’m not 100% certain. Any recommendations or advice would be greatly appreciated.
    Appreciate it

    Feel free to surf to my web page :: fitspresso buy

    Reply

  256. First off I want to say fantastic blog! I had a quick question in which I’d like to ask
    if you do not mind. I was interested to find out how you center yourself and clear
    your thoughts prior to writing. I have had trouble clearing my thoughts in getting my ideas out.

    I do enjoy writing but it just seems like the first 10 to 15 minutes are
    generally lost simply just trying to figure out
    how to begin. Any suggestions or hints? Thank you!

    My homepage; nervefresh reviews

    Reply

  257. Oh my goodness! Awesome article dude! Many thanks,
    However I am encountering troubles with your RSS.
    I don’t know the reason why I can’t subscribe to it.
    Is there anyone else having similar RSS issues? Anybody who knows
    the solution will you kindly respond? Thanx!!

    Also visit my web blog; fitspresso ingredients

    Reply

  260. Hmm it looks like your website ate my first comment (it was extremely long) so I guess I’ll just sum
    it up what I had written and say, I’m thoroughly enjoying your blog.

    I too am an aspiring blog writer but I’m still new to the whole thing.
    Do you have any suggestions for newbie blog writers?
    I’d really appreciate it.

    Here is my web page; nitric boost ultra

    Reply

  261. Excellent article. Keep writing such kind of information on your blog.
    Im really impressed by your blog.
    Hello there, You’ve performed an excellent job.

    I will definitely digg it and for my part recommend to my friends.

    I am confident they will be benefited from this site.

    My web site; fitspresso

    Reply

  264. Its like you read my mind! You appear to know a lot about this, like you
    wrote the book in it or something. I think that you could do with some
    pics to drive the message home a bit, but other than that, this
    is excellent blog. An excellent read. I’ll certainly
    be back.

    My site – prodentim

    Reply

  267. Hi, i feel that i saw you visited my weblog so i got here to go back the favor?.I’m attempting to in finding issues
    to enhance my web site!I guess its adequate to use some of
    your ideas!!

    Feel free to visit my site: nervefresh

    Reply

  268. сильные заговоры от пьянства
    по фото зеленая летучая мышь сонник, сонник
    кормить летучую мышь если снится чужой парень
    старшие 22 аркана с картинками
    год зодиака 1988 года

    Reply

  270. I blog quite often and I really appreciate your information. This great article has really peaked
    my interest. I am going to take a note of your website and keep checking for new information about once
    a week. I subscribed to your Feed too.

    Reply

  273. I have been browsing online more than three hours lately,
    yet I by no means discovered any attention-grabbing article
    like yours. It’s lovely price enough for me. In my opinion, if all
    web owners and bloggers made excellent content
    as you did, the internet can be much more useful than ever before.

    Also visit my webpage; provadent reviews

    Reply

  276. It is the best time to make some plans for the future and it is time to be happy.
    I’ve read this post and if I could I want to suggest you some interesting things
    or suggestions. Maybe you could write next articles referring to this article.
    I desire to read even more things about it!

    Reply

  278. Very nice post. I just stumbled upon your weblog and wanted to say that I’ve truly enjoyed browsing your
    blog posts. After all I’ll be subscribing to your rss feed and I hope you write again very soon!

    Reply

  280. May I simply say what a relief to uncover somebody
    who actually understands what they are talking about on the internet.

    You definitely realize how to bring an issue to light and make
    it important. A lot more people have to check this out and understand this side of the story.
    I can’t believe you are not more popular because you
    definitely have the gift.

    Reply

  285. Definitely imagine that that you said. Your favourite reason appeared
    to be on the net the simplest thing to be mindful of. I say to
    you, I certainly get irked while other folks think about concerns that they just don’t recognize
    about. You managed to hit the nail upon the highest as well as defined out the entire thing with no need side
    effect , other people could take a signal. Will likely be
    again to get more. Thank you

    Also visit my web page: alpha bits

    Reply

  300. Magnificent items from you, man. I have be aware your stuff prior to and you’re simply extremely excellent.
    I actually like what you have received here, really like what you’re saying and the way in which in which you say it.
    You’re making it entertaining and you still take care of to stay it sensible.
    I cant wait to learn much more from you. This is really a wonderful web
    site.

    My blog post nitric boost ultra supplement

    Reply

  305. What’s Taking place i’m new to this, I stumbled upon this I have discovered It
    positively useful and it has helped me out loads.
    I hope to contribute & aid other customers like its
    aided me. Good job.

    Feel free to surf to my blog herpesyl bbb

    Reply

  308. Hello there! This is my first comment here
    so I just wanted to give a quick shout out and tell you I really
    enjoy reading your articles. Can you suggest any other blogs/websites/forums that cover the same
    subjects? Thanks a ton!

    my webpage – prodentim

    Reply

  312. I loved as much as you will receive carried out right here.

    The sketch is attractive, your authored
    subject matter stylish. nonetheless, you command get got an impatience over that you
    wish be delivering the following. unwell unquestionably come further formerly again as exactly the same nearly very often inside case you shield this
    hike.

    Also visit my web blog; tonic greens work

    Reply

  315. Just wish to say your article is as amazing. The clarity in your post is just
    great and i could assume you are an expert on this subject.
    Well with your permission let me to grab your RSS feed to keep updated with forthcoming
    post. Thanks a million and please keep up the gratifying
    work.

    Feel free to visit my homepage – buy goods tonic greens

    Reply

  325. Hmm it seems like your blog ate my first comment (it was extremely long) so I guess I’ll just
    sum it up what I had written and say, I’m thoroughly enjoying your blog.

    I as well am an aspiring blog blogger but I’m still new to the whole thing.

    Do you have any tips for inexperienced blog writers? I’d certainly appreciate it.

    Feel free to visit my web page: dentavim pills

    Reply

  327. Great work! That is the type of info that should be shared across the web.
    Shame on the seek engines for now not positioning this submit
    upper! Come on over and talk over with my site .
    Thank you =)

    Review my web blog erec prime

    Reply

  359. Hi there would you mind letting me know which webhost you’re utilizing?

    I’ve loaded your blog in 3 different browsers and I must
    say this blog loads a lot faster then most. Can you suggest
    a good web hosting provider at a fair price? Many thanks, I appreciate it!

    Feel free to surf to my blog post – tonic greens

    Reply

  365. Great blog! Do you have any helpful hints for aspiring writers?

    I’m planning to start my own site soon but I’m a little lost on everything.
    Would you recommend starting with a free platform like WordPress or go for a paid option? There are so many choices out
    there that I’m totally overwhelmed .. Any recommendations?
    Thank you!

    Also visit my blog post; padrão

    Reply

  368. скачать фильм барби: принцесса и поп-звезда, барби
    принцесса и поп-звезда ютуб куаныш волейбол состав 2023, куаныш волейбол женщины состав 2022 меншікті капитал деген, резервтік капитал деген не avi
    kz, bazar kz

    Reply

  369. Just want to say your article is as amazing. The clarity in your post is simply nice and that i can suppose you’re knowledgeable in this subject.
    Well together with your permission let me to snatch your RSS feed to keep up to date with imminent
    post. Thanks a million and please carry on the enjoyable work.

    Here is my web page – the growth matrix system

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Previous Story

‘Manchild in the Promised Land’ at Fifty

Next Story

Latest from Blog

A virgin’s quest

A Short Story by Bunmi Fatoye-Matory Friday, June 28, 2024.   Somewhere in Rọ́lákẹ́’s childhood, she learned about Mercedes Benz, but not