Chaotic Bliss

Ada tenderly patted her bump for the umpteenth time, prodding a tiny bit just to elicit a response. The baby’s kicks and slight movement are the reassurances she needed to keep calm.

“Let the poor guy rest, darling”, Dave her husband said as his eyes caught the gesture.

They were on their way to the clinic as Ada could not sleep all night with complaints of body ache and general restlessness; she was only 37weeks along. Dave had to call the office to reschedule all appointments so he could accompany his wife to the hospital.

A little over 4 years ago, they met during the ‘camp fire night’ at Owerri, an eastern state in the African Country of Nigeria.They belonged to different platoons but fate in the person of Tope, Ada’s mischievous platoon leader had thrown them together. She would later find out Tope was Ada’s buddy from Lautech (Ladoke Akintola University of Technology)

“Hello angel, can I join you, please?” She had just taken part in her Platoon’s amateurish attempt to inject a bit of nollywood into the activities of the night and was trying to catch her breath after the rigorous dancing exercise.

Not that he needed permission anyway as he dropped on the log beside her before she could open her mouth to decline. She was in no mood for his or any guy’s antics for that matter. He wasted no time in chatting her up and putting her at ease, she soon cracked up under his adept skills showing he was not a novice in the game.

A year later, he came to Lagos to take up an appointment with one of the leading ICT companies at Ikeja. He reestablished contact with her and a couple of visits and dates later, they were totally an item.

Fast forwarded to the present.

Dave took a break from humming to the Lionel Richie classic wafting from the CD player and took a moment to gaze at his wife swiftly, tenderly patting her huge tummy with his left hand while keeping the right one firmly on the steering wheel.

They had only been married for two years.

In that brief moment memories of their memorable honeymoon in Accra flashed across his mind.
She had chosen Accra while he had preferred visiting Burj Arab. Well she won in the end, he still doesn’t know how to resist her charms.

“I took the best decision of my life, I have been blessed immensely”, he mused to himself.

So lost was he in his reverie that he did not hear Ada shout “watch out” a split moment before the *damfo rammed into their car from the left side.

Sounds of screeching and screaming blended with the pungent odour of clutches and tyres grazing the tarmac.

“Jeez, what just happened here?” Instantly, bystanders waiting some moments back to board vehicles to their various destinations were already gathered round the two vehicles in the usual Lagos fashion.

“Ada, you’re okay? ”
“Please talk to me, angel…angel…”
Ada was numb with shock, holding to her tummy and side, blood trickled from a small cut on her temple where bits of the side mirror the Damfo shattered had hit.

The Damfo driver who was clearly at fault was forgotten in an instant, thoughts of how to get her to the nearest hospital was uppermost in his mind.

“Madam, you dey okay so?”
“Oga, make we help you carry *iyabeji?”

“Please get out of here..gerrout..move this junk out of my way, need to get to the hospital fast”

“Oga, sorry o”
“These damfo drivers no dey always dey patient”

A couple of minutes later, they were on Mobolaji Bank Anthony Way, straight into the Eko hospital he drove.
Thank goodness the hospital was on his *HMO list.

Ada still wasn’t talking.

No wheel chair in sight.

As Dave carried her, holding her close and sniffing the scent of the hair cream she hurriedly applied to her hair earlier in the morning, his right palm firmly on her underside – on the short walk to the *OPD, he felt warm moistness on his palms, spreading steadily across their bodies’ contact surface area.
His heart did a brief double take as a nurse rushed forward to help transfer her into a wheel chair.

And he saw her light brown maternity trouser had turned crimson.

Her ‘water’ had indeed broken!

By now, Ada was moaning gently.


“Dave, my tummy…my legs”
She moaned softly, doubled over craddling her heavily swollen tummy.

She was swiftly checked by an hippy Doctor who established she was dilated enough to be transferred immediately to the maternity ward.

Labour had started in earnest.

“Thank goodness, I heeded the instinct to throw in the baby’s bag in the booth”

And the long but short wait began. Nothing else mattered than the deep agonizing shards of pain, shooting up from the base of Annie’s tummy, to her spines spreading through every nerve end.

“Breathe in…deeply…there…”

“Angel, breath through it please, you can do it…together, we can do it…think..very soon our beautiful bundle would be in our arms…we are together in this…I’m here for you baby”

Massaging her back in a bid to ease the pain, Dave babbled on trying to mask his fear, reassuring himself more than Ada, he’s a man after all.

Through the pacing, screaming when the waves of pain peaked & scratching, he stood firm, holding her trembling body when the pain subsided.

“I can’t bear this anymore, epi..epidu…epidural…” she screamed in pain.

“The Doctor said you are just 4cm dilated, let me get the matron to check again…hold on darling, be back in a jiffy”

An eternity later, he practically dragged the midwife in.

She had to bear the pain..again..she could not even decide which was more painful -the waves of contraction or the midwife invading her private domain, again trying to check how far dilated she was.

Thankfully, the burly matron decided she was ready to be moved to the delivery room.

“Remember to breath deeply, conserve your energy for the real action…before you know it, it’s over already”.. the matronly midwife encouraged.
“Now push only when I instruct you to”

“Not good enough, now, ready, with all your strength, push hard like your life depends on it”
“Angel, you can do it..yes..”
“Oh Goooooooooooooddddddddddddddddd….

“yes, yes, yes, there is the head, yes…you are doing just great…now push the shoulders out…

Out popped the baby.

A wave of calmness and accomplishment pervaded Ada’s whole being, like a blast of fresh, cool air after hours in the scorching sun.

‘Thank you baby..finally..”

“Now, the *afterbirth, madam…your baby is being cleaned up and will be handed to you in a moment”

More pushing and heaving, the placenta came out.

“Your baby, madam, congratulations”

“Isn’t he the most beautiful baby in the world? And, Dave, what in the world are you doing in that green gown?”

Dave collapsed beside her out of exhaustion and blissful relief.




Why Do You Write?


When bubbles of ecstacy

My heart well filled,

A world of legacy

Left by a being galled

I write.


When tons of lead

Upon my soul weigh,

A time to bleed

From a stricken head

I write.


When feelings of love

Upon my body radiate,

Swamped like by a dove

Sent from heaven’s gate

I write.


When news so bleak

Fill the atmosphere so thick,

And the days so dark

With clouds very stark

I write.


When emptiness threatens

One’s spirit to submerge,

And the eyes moisten

Like rain on a page

I write.


When the Sovereign above

Formed a life so precious,

Lifting with pure love

Unto a path so glorious

I write.



So, You Want To Be A Writer?

So you have nurtured this dream of putting your pen to paper and coming up with a clever piece that would inspire someone somewhere…

Or you have words burning in your guts screaming for release…

Or you have stories to tell of the everyday occurrences in your life but do not know where or how to start…

Or it comes out of your heart uncoaxed…



You need money in your purse or in the bank and you are looking to writing to deliver the goodies…

Or you simply want to bear the title of a ‘writer’…

Or you stare at your computer screen all day long not able to come up with a single line, practically bereft of ideas to put to paper…

Or just thinking about it brings on a migraine…

Or you want to be famous…

Or you want to be like that other (wo)man known all over for her masterpieces…

Or you have to copy and paraphrase that beautiful book you’ve just finished reading…tweaking a little here and there…




if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don’t do it. if you’re doing it for money or fame, don’t do it. if you’re doing it because you want women in your bed, don’t do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don’t do it. if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it, don’t do it. if you’re trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you’re not ready. don’t be like so many writers, don’t be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don’t be dull and boring and pretentious, don’t be consumed with self- love. the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. don’t add to that. don’t do it. unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don’t do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don’t do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was. – See more at:

Welcome to Green Writers Hub


Inspiration for this blog was birthed by the need to hone my writing skills, document my writings and also have an online forum where aspiring writers as well as established or experienced ones can converge to hone their skills, rub minds on issues, ideas and strategies geared towards achieving all our dreams and goals.

A forum  where the fresh writers could feel at home, yes at home; where they can tap into the wealth of knowledge of experienced writers.

A forum where you can post your works and get honest review; a forum where you can pick inspiration for your next writing project.

A forum where you can connect with editors and publishers alike.

Then I discovered that similar forums exist already and prospective ‘partners’ are unwilling to take on an extra project. Well, who would blame them? Not me.

On the choice of name:

Green is the color of nature; nature which is a friend and motivator of so many writers. Green also symbolizes life, self-respect and well being. It is the color of balance. It also means learning, growth and harmony.

It imply fresh, new, untapped, unexplored

A hub is a place or thing that forms the effective center of an activity, region, or network. My hub. My haven. My home.

So, you are new to writing, you need some ‘green’ in your life; you are conversant with writing and are in need of continuity, freshness, you need some ‘green’ in your life.

And If you are ‘unpublished’ yet or you have one or two published books in your kitty, aiming for the moon with your writing career, then I say welcome to this forum.

You are ‘published’ and need some continuity or fresh ideas as well as to network or maybe you need someone to mentor, you are most welcome to my haven. Your inputs could / would change someone’s life.

Please feel free to submit your articles, write ups, etc just for the fun of it…or for review…but then, be ready to accept (constructive) criticisms..heavy and light, in all shades.

The journey is as important as the destination

Read my posts, leave your review or comments and post your works too. Be they short stories, flash fictions or poems.

Or just pass by, generally

Whatever catches your fancy

But….I need you as much as you need me;

So let’s walk this esteemed road together, it’s full of exciting promises.





I do not claim to know it all or to be there yet, but I am on the journey already; work in progress.