QUEEN ESTHER’S CORNER: THE PORT-HARCOURT TRIP I NEVER MADE

2019-06-14T23:02:20+01:00By |Feature|0 Comments

Light Glows…

The room is dimly lit as I start… welcome.


I am of the belief that not all good opportunities are for us and that there are great lessons buried in our experiences if we dig deep. Some opportunities we’ll have to forgo especially if we don’t have clarity about the risks involved. But do we do that? Like really, do we say, “no, this looks good but I don’t think it’s for me.” You can figure out the answer right? Today in my corner on the blog, I want to share a life experience with you.

My reason for choosing to do this is because one, there’s danger in the single story as CNA rightly said. The single story here is that many times we read about girls going after men they meet online and the misfortunes they meet while embracing opportunities to mingle with these folks.

No one tells us about girls that overcome such tempting experiences. The danger is that we now celebrate our fears, woes, regrets yet we have survivors who had such experiences and never fell for it. Let’s talk about them too and that’s what I will be writing about today. DO YOU SHARE SIMILAR EXPERIENCE? CAN YOU SHARE WITH OUR AUDIENCE?


Here’s my story on online networking and letting go of opportunities we aren’t certain of their outcome.


It was 2015, the year I gave teaching the middle finger and spat on the threshold of Nigeria education. Don’t try to blame me, if you hear the story, you’ll be aghast but I will leave that for another day. It was also the period when everywhere was boiling with the chant, sai baba here, sai baba there. I was just getting over my awful experience at the school I resigned from when I got his message on Google+.

Hi, hi, our conversation started. He was employed in one of those oil companies in Port Harcourt. We got talking and yeah we were alumni of same university, he was an Edo man. What’s your age? I spilled, your relationship? I spilled, your family background? I spilled like ejaculations of a horny man. Don’t think much of the last words, keep your mind free, lol.

He knew I needed a job, so he asked that I send him my CV. In this Nigeria, hastily I did. Perhaps, manna will fall from the sky. “I will send it to my friends who work in different companies, we should be able to find you something.” He kept telling me, I kept the flame of hope blazing. “Will you be willing to relocate?” He quizzed now and then, of course I would, I simply told him but I don’t know anyone there I chipped. “You know me now, so you have nothing to fear.”

My mind kept seeing beautiful offices where I’d someday sit wearing expensive flat heels and body hugging skirts or gowns with my face brightly primed. Luxury trips to Jerusalem, Dubai and all the names my brain can’t pick now. Yeah, I hope someday to tour the world on a tourism spree. That had always been a childhood fantasy for me, like go to Disneyland, see the Seven Wonders of the world, visit the pyramid of Egypt, Great Wall of China. Chai, my fantasy was endless and I daydreamed about these.

Typical of most men I meet online, he asked for my pictures. Does a picture hurt a fly abi dem dey use picture romance person? I willingly sent him some. “Whoa, you’re so beautiful. I trust your mama must be this fair, you look like a white girl.” I chuckled, tension starting to unsettle my navel. I get fidgety when married men start lolling over me. Something just tells me it’s danger zone down the lane.

Hmm, should I say I wasn’t tempted? I was. Who no like better thing? He was a big man by moderate standard, his people tripped abroad so I desired what he had.

He shared photos of his family and wife. In every way, I couldn’t have doubted his intentions and maybe I still think he meant good. I would never know since I didn’t make that trip.

However, the red lights were there. The constant messages on whatsapp, promise of a good life and the adoring praises on body beauty plus the coldness with which he talked about his marriage. I felt there was no flame in his matrimony but I kept quiet. I chickened out and even now faintly remember the details of how we ended the friendship if that’s what it was.

Sighs. I lost a good opportunity to be a Port Harcourt big babe, buy designer stuffs, wine and dine with bigger boys and maybe become mistress to a married man who of course from our conversations saw no issue with marrying more than one wife. Or maybe I didn’t miss out at all. And what if I have a similar opportunity now… hmm, I don’t know what I would do. What would you do if it was you?

Time froze and then moved, I waited to hear that my CV pushed through.

“My dear be calm okay, this new president is shaking tables in the oil industry, let the situation normalize.” He kept saying sapping the little hope left in me.

A beggar has no choice, so no choice had I.

“Why not pay me a visit? Take some time to unwind. Especially from your ugly teaching experience.”

“I can’t ooo, where will I tell my mum I am going to?”

“Don’t worry, I will personally speak with her to assure her you’re safe with me.”

I grew cold feet but to assure me that I wasn’t being paranoid, I asked for t-fare. He kept posting me till we faded like Abada wrapper.

It’s been three long years and I can’t help but wonder what could have been if I had traveled to Port-Harcourt that summer of 2015 to visit a man I barely knew except for what he told me on social media. Sometimes, I wish I had taken the plunge but another part of me shivers.

Did I miss an opportunity or I saved myself from the unknown?

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About the Author:

I'm in love with life, learning and positive energy. I'm here to make a bit of a difference. Totally Freespirited! Like a bird.

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