
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
Enjoy this new short interactive story
Kamikun was having his first ever marijuana. He was in-between schools, and so it took only a few days to find kindred spirits within his street to share the experience with. He spent most of his time alone in an empty house after his parents hurried out of the house at dawn to beat the unforgiving Lagos morning traffic. Since they often returned from work late into the night, loneliness was his adopted middle name. Kamikun Loneliness Ademola!
It also didn’t matter that he was barely seventeen years old when he had his first smoke, after all some of his younger friends showed off impressive puffs while they shared a blunt. What mattered was that now, he could sit in the midst of young teenagers like himself to enjoy the bliss of a cigarette or marijuana without a care in the world.
He had read somewhere that girls loved the after taste of smoke after a French-kiss. Could it be the dissolving layer of smoke on the tongue that caused this or the exhaled remnants that curled back from the lungs during the act?
In his quiet moment, he often wondered how the lingering, acrid, and bitter sensation that smoking left in his mouth, could if anything, be attractive to any lady.
“But Google confirmed that this was true.” He argued with himself.
In his bid to conceal the after-taste, he chewed on ground nuts and barbequed meat with fervor before uttering a word to neighbors or friends of his parents.
He would have to find out.
Either way, that fact aroused him more often than his stomach grumbled for food. Nothing would please him more than to share the perfect kiss with his love interest. His first kiss, he reckoned, was only a few days away. He could feel it!
No one looked as gorgeous and beautiful as Jadesola when he first met her at the supermarket. He had gone to buy two loaves of bread one evening when he met her at the payment counter, struggling to remove wrinkled notes from her oversized jeans, yet wearing a smile that showed her excellent dentition. The jeans she wore could have belonged to her father or uncle or some fatard who sits all day.
Kamikun was so mesmerized, his feet refused orders from his marijuana-clouded brain. He stood gobsmack staring at her with so much intensity that Jadesola awkwardly returned his rude stare with a bright smile seem to mean, “What’s with the look?”
When he found his sense, his first set of words to her was; “Hi my name is Kami and I would love to be your friend.”
The rest they say is history. Love was born that afternoon.
Two weeks later, Jadesola would sneak out of the house in the evenings so they could talk and hold hands for just about fifteen minutes before her eight-year-old brother, Prince, would come looking for her outside, around the corner of the house gate. Prince was the house gossip and her self-appointed watch dog.
That anticipated first kiss was closer than weeks earlier. They only needed to find the right place and the right time.
She asked him to buy her a new phone the last time they hugged. That was the first thing she would ever ask from him. This was now a matter of the heart. He would have to figure out how to get some money first.
His parents barely left enough pocket money on a weekly basis. After he was done buying the joint or cigarette each day, there was barely enough cash to buy anything else. It was an endless cycle of smoking, eating junk and then waiting to get the next allowance.
Annoying, yet frustrating. Kamikun was convinced he needed to find a way to either fleece more money from his “stingy” parents or find cash some other way.
He didn’t like the way his heart beats whenever he thought about it. Kamikun Loneliness Ademola was going to be a man, the man he always wanted to be. The missing puzzle piece was about to be filled. Jadesola held the keys to his heart and it made him feel some type of way words couldn’t describe.
Paul had only one friend in the neighborhood. His name was Kamikun, but he liked to be called Kami. Paul thought he was just a vain teenager who cared so much for his looks than his future. Not that the sixteen-year-old Paul cared for his future that much too. He was fine with living each day as it came.
But his vain friend Kamikun would insist they buy some expensive barbeque meat from the local vendor down the street after they had spent some time getting wasted and high on marijuana.
“No one can smell your breath, its not that obvious Kami.”
“I am not taking chances bruh. If my parents ever find out, they will literally kill me.”
“No one can find out. The smell of weed doesn’t linger that long.”
“If Jadesola finds out, that is when my whole life would be done for.”
The teenagers laughed it off that afternoon, but Paul wasn’t quite impressed at his shorter friend’s concerns.
Now Kamikun was starting to talk about finding money to buy a new phone for his girlfriend. The silly chump was already in love. Paul disliked girls and the burden they put on boys and men. His father had married three times and each time, it ended the same way, with a bitter dispute over money. He was determined never to get married and didn’t care if he had children or not. I sincerely wished he wasn’t a burden to his father.
“Money, money, money, I need money.” Kamikun was singing into his ears.
“What option are you thinking about buh?”
“Anything right now Paul. I need to raise some cash.”
“Phone are not exactly cheap.”
“Yes, I know.”
“How about we sell something that is worth some value so we can get the money. But we will have to split it down the middle for both of us.” Paul puffed out a thick ring of smoke as he spoke.
Kamikun thought about it for a while.
It sounded like a decent and simple plan.
But when Paul mentioned that it may involve stealing a valuable artifact from one of their affluent neighbors on the street, Kamikun had his doubts.
(Decision point 1) – Do you think Kamikun should agree to this idea?

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

There is a category of question that polite intellectual company tends to avoid: the kind that, if you pull the thread long enough, begins to unravel not just a specific mystery but the entire fabric of what we think we know about human history. The Pyramids of Giza are that thread. They have been standing in the Egyptian desert for roughly 4,500 years.

Let me take you somewhere. Not to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean — at least, not yet. First, to Lagos. Nigeria. Sometime in the late 1980s. A teenager who should probably have been revising for exams is instead sitting cross-legged on the floor of a library, holding a book that is older than most of the furniture around it, reading about a city beneath the sea.

This is my story of discovering a film that challenged everything I thought I knew about the gift of time, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to leap beyond your limitations and appreciate the beauty of growing old.
This story explores the paradox of immortality and why a movie from 2015 still resonates so deeply with audiences today.
I hope you find it worth your time.

This is my story, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to question what you know and leap beyond your limitations.
This story is about the audacity of belief, the power of a well-told lie, and the journey to unlearn the things that poisoned my teenage mind.
I hope you find it worth your time.

There is a category of question that polite intellectual company tends to avoid: the kind that, if you pull the thread long enough, begins to unravel not just a specific mystery but the entire fabric of what we think we know about human history. The Pyramids of Giza are that thread. They have been standing in the Egyptian desert for roughly 4,500 years.

There is a peculiar kind of madness that does not arrive with hallucinations or trembling hands. It arrives quietly. At two in the morning. In a small desert town in New Mexico. It sounds like an idling diesel engine somewhere in the distance — except there is no engine. It sounds like a bass note being held by an invisible orchestra — except there is no orchestra.

Let me confess something. Long before LinkedIn articles, podcasts, and leadership keynotes became my world, I was a teenager sneaking to the library

In an era that increasingly demands hyper-specialization, Akin Akingbogun stands out as a refreshing anomaly. He is a man who refuses to be confined to a single box.

There is a particular kind of silence that falls on a man when the phone stops ringing, the proposals go unanswered, and the diary that once groaned under the weight of appointments sits quietly — almost mockingly — open. If you have ever been there, you know it.

Let me tell you something uncomfortable: the most generous person you know — the one who volunteers every weekend, donates quietly, never asks for anything in return — is probably getting something out of it. Not money. Maybe not even recognition. But something.

Adaeze had been awake since 4 a.m.
Not because she was anxious — though she was — but because this trip felt different. After eighteen months of follow-ups, phone calls, and PowerPoint presentations polished to a mirror shine, the deal was finally ready to close. An investor meeting in Abuja. A partnership that would change the trajectory of her small but gutsy consulting firm. She had triple-checked her flight, her documents, her outfit. She had prayed. She was ready.

When he told his father, Dare’s first response was a sigh. Then: “I told you to practice more. I told you months ago. You don’t listen. You never listen.”
There was no “I’m sorry, son.” No pause to let the boy simply feel the loss of the thing he wanted. Just a swift, seamless pivot to what Temi had done wrong — and, by extension, how Temi’s failure was evidence of Temi’s failure to take his father’s wisdom seriously.

I want to tell you something that took me embarrassingly long to learn. Not because the idea is complicated — it is not. But because it cuts against something deeply wired in us, something we are rarely honest enough to admit.
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.
Just write down some details about you and we will get back to you in a jiffy!
4 thoughts on “Moral Case for a Gift”
He should not agree to that idea becuase I suspect them being caught .
Can’t wait for the next part .
Interesting one there sir
This is interesting.
I am looking forward for the next read
I am confused between choosing yes or no as both outcomes will be intriguing
Steal to buy a phone for a girl? Hell NO! Carrying trouble all around the place to dump on an innocent girl is a No No
I’ve got this proverb for Kami, “The monkey is eating banana, yet scratching its ass, little does the monkey know that the sweet things kill as well”
If Jadesola is going to teach him how to kiss, he should be revving his engine and legs for a dash,- still the experience is worth it if it won’t eventually turn off he’s life’s light.