Creative Writing

Journey Away From Home

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Journey Away From Home

Dele slouched on his seat. He put his head between his head between his knees and stretched. Even in the tight spaces of the bus, his height allowed him this luxury. The journey has been quite stressful, the driver just seemed to look for every bump and hole to run into. The continuous groan and agitation of the passengers didn’t seem to bother him; the man just kept swerving his rickety bus the way he liked.  Also, he kept bringing in new passengers, farmers with their produce, traders on their way to the market, mothers with their offspring, noisy garage thugs, every Tom, Dick and Harry on the road. The bus was smelly and noisy, the odour of the sweat and goods of the passengers is beyond words. He knew he shouldn’t have boarded this moving hell. But he had spent hours waving down the Ibadan-bound buses and this was the only one that stopped; the others were filled up. In a bid to get to his uncle’s house before ten o’clock, Dele decided to board this one. He disregarded the unkempt appearance of the driver, his blood shot eyes and the trace of alcohol in his breath . But his younger sister, Vero, was not going to let her suspicions be buried. “Don’t enter this bus, he looks like a kidnapper” But he had played down her fears. The bus swerved wildly to the right again. Dele raised his head. This time the driver was trying to avoid an head on collision with an oncoming lorry that was also trying to overtake another car. The rest of the passengers screamed and cursed and continued with their chattering. Dele leaned back on his seat and looked out , they were already at Olodo, a few more minutes, they will be in Apata. He went back to his thoughts. He started reminiscing about home. READ ALSO: The Rejected Stone Became The Most Celebrated He remembered, the lazy days he spent strolling the neighborhood with his sisters. He remembered the cheerful Saturdays and the bright Sunday mornings. He remembered the laughter and the joy. All that changed when his uncle called to tell him that the premier university has resumed and it was time for freshermen’ registration, that was a week ago. He remembered how Tutu cried when she was told that her big brother would be leaving soon, she refused to let him out of her sight, everywhere he went, she tagged along. Dele sighed. A tired smile spread across his face as he stared out the window of the bus. This is a journey he has to embark on alone. He felt rather lonely. The woman beside him tapped him back to reality. Dele scanned her. She was a middle-aged woman with three kids on her lap and luggages she refused to put in the back of the bus. He had been the one carrying it for her since the journey started. “What?” “Your money?” “Oh” He dipped his hand into his pockets and gave her a thousand naira note. She proceeded to collect the fare from the passengers around her before passing it to the driver. Dele wondered why people are like that, collecting money from the rest of the passengers before giving it to the driver . He shrugged as the woman gave him his change. He sighed and he put his head on the seat before him, drifting into an uneasy sleep this time. By the time he woke up, the sun had fully risen . He looked around and saw the jostling and buzzing around him. The other passengers were already alighting . He scrambled down to get his bags. The noise and crowd around Apata was unfamiliar to him. He felt out of place. He glanced at his watch and his heart skipped a beat. It was already 11 am. His uncle would have gone to work . He would have to trek to his uncle’s office. Dele sighed wearily. He had a very long day ahead. His journey was just beginning, but he was determined.

Matriculation Day

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Matriculation Day

Ade got up from the bed wearily. Today was his matriculation ceremony at the prestigious University of Westman. Yesterday had been pretty rough. The notorious elements of his hall wailed and screamed unsavory things at each other all through the night. The fact that it was Valentine didn’t help; there was heavy music and chaos right into the night. Decorum is to some people what peace is to the Taliban. It was despicable. But none of that mattered this morning as he was feeling rather motivated. He had gone from one hostel to the other with some of his friends, indicating his interest in receiving ‘item 7’ from prospective matriculants like himself. He wouldn’t be bringing any, but he would expect some. He looked around the room, surprised that his roommates were not around. He shrugged, picked up his towel, and headed to the bathroom. When he returned, he saw Ustaz, a friend of one of his roommates, unpacking his ironed matriculation gown. The latter looked surprised to see him. “Guy, the matriculation ceremony is 9 o’clock. Are you not going?” Ade glanced at his watch. 8:30 AM! He was surprised; he hurriedly picked on some casual clothes, grabbed his gown, and rushed out. Today is the cruise. He smiled to himself as he waved down a cab. Little did he know about what fate had in store for him. When he alighted from the taxi at the venue, a woman rushed over to his side and pinned a ribbon to his gown as she said some prayers. Ade was pleasantly surprised. He thought the school had arranged this special welcome for the matriculants. He was shocked when the woman asked him for money for “the blessing.” Owo adura, she said. He parted grudgingly with two hundred naira. But fate was just warming up. As Ade entered the compound, he saw a rather long queue of matriculants like himself waiting to enter the hall. He was impressed by the amount of energy these guys had put into looking impressive. The boys rolled around in their carefully pressed suits and sleek sneakers. The girls looked even more glamorous as they glided around in elaborate costumes and makeup. Bling, bling. Despite the news of impending strike action by the lecturers, none of the students seemed to care. Only some students, like him, looked unfashionable in their dresses. As Abraham Lincoln rightly said, you fit the craze if you reason too much. They all waited in line for two hours, with the line crawling slowly and the sun smiling rather unkindly. The heat was detestable. Then he heard people trooping out of the hall en masse; the ceremony was over. He felt dejected, but he was the one who woke up late. People dispersed to take pictures around the hall with their family, friends, new friends, and coursemates. He tried calling some people he knew but realized he knew no one. He was just a reserved guy who was lonely in this crowd. He looked around at the boys running around with the girls; even a day after Valentine, he was still oppressed. He knew he looked even more ridiculous in his matriculation gown. Ade decided to take a picture so as to have something to souvenir when he got home. To show his family. He approached a photographer, and after agreeing to the price and snapping the picture, the latter printed the photo. Ade then dipped his hand casually into his pockets to bring out his fees. Then fate struck a rather impressive blow. The void in his pockets was astonishing. He decided to see with his eyes because seeing is believing. He pulled out his pockets, and alas, nothing was in them. His last one thousand naira note! By then, he was already racing; his heart was racing, and beads of sweat lined his forehead. The photographer looked at him rather dubiously. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to deck this kid without being charged with assault. READ ALSO: Symptoms and Antidotes for giving up Just then, a random lady inviting him to her fellowship walked up to him and paid on his behalf. She had noticed his frantic actions and knew the poor guy had nothing in his pockets. Ade was extremely relieved. He made up his mind to pay her back in full and to keep going to her fellowship. The photographer handed her the picture and left. He was downcast and a little bit depressed but heavily relieved. The lady, whose name he later knew to be Sara, smiled. “Welcome to Westman,” she said cheerily. He smiled weakly and said: “Thanks”

Potiphar’s Perspective

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He struggled to find space among the crowd of smelly, sweaty peasants, all of whom had left their fields to petition the new governor. Potiphar’s case was no different from theirs. He was once a highly regarded personality throughout the kingdom of Egypt, but had been reduced to the lowest class in the Egyptian social strata. He sighed wearily as he bent and weaved through the crowd to avoid being detected by one of his former juniors and servants. If only he could get to see Joseph. He sighed wearily as memories of the past years rushed through his brain. Life was pretty decent for Potiphar in his early years. He was born into a middle-class Egyptian family—not entirely middle-class, but not upper-class either; say, upper-middle class. Growing up, he had enjoyed the little affluence that came with his father’s position as a government official. And, after his father, Potiphar Snr’s, death, the duty fell upon him as the oldest son to consolidate his father’s estate. He did the best any ordinary male in his position would do. He assumed his deceased father’s position in the Egyptian palace. With his average business knowledge and a little bit of luck, Potiphar was able to increase his father’s lands, slaves, and material wealth. He then tied the knot with Tika, the lady from the house of Ashthankhatuk, whom his late father had arranged for him to strengthen their family’s social status. This final decision would come back to haunt him. Potiphar shivered at this recollection. Among the many slaves he bought at the beginning of his wealth was a lanky lad who called his name Joseph. At first sight, the kid did not look cut out for fieldwork. But the slave merchant was a very persuasive fellow. “He’ll grow into it. Don’t they all?” Given that the lad was good-looking and not very expensive, he bought him with the thought of figuring out his purpose later. And from that moment on, the kid singled himself out from the rest of the slaves. For starters, he was not as depressed or morose-looking as the other slaves. Even when his future was uncertain in the slave merchant’s stall, he had that glint in his eyes and a confident chip on his shoulders. He was the most cheerful slave Potiphar had ever seen. The lad also had some natural people skills; leadership came easily to him. The lad, Joseph, excelled in everything and became Potiphar’s right-hand man. As a result of Joseph’s brilliance, Potiphar moved him away from fieldwork and put him in charge of the day-to-day affairs of his house. But in order to give him a proper Egyptian education and style, Potiphar enrolled him with the best mathematicians, astrologers, philosophers, and other teachers in various disciplines. Given how naturally talented Joseph is, his results were superb. Soon enough, he began to confound his Egyptian tutors with his wit. The numbers in Potiphar’s businesses, which Joseph managed, began skyrocketing. Potiphar’s net worth bloomed; he received promotions upon promotions and became more respectable in the royal court. A new problem soon arose for Potiphar in the form of his wife, Tike. Even before he married her, he had always heard stories of her hot flings with other men. But he dismissed the rumors as slanderous and baseless claims. He always thought to himself, Who wouldn’t be jealous of him for having such a beautiful wife? He adored her, and he made sure everyone knew. However, with successes in his businesses and responsibilities in the royal court, he grew less intimate with her. He had hoped she would understand. But Tika always stubbornly nagged him for more intimacy and affection. She had grown jealous of Joseph and frequently accused Potiphar of spending more time with his slave than his wife. Potiphar dismissed her words, but they stuck with him, which was why when he came back home later that day to find Joseph tied down and Tika accusing him (Joseph) of trying to rape her, he angrily ordered him to be put in one of the cruelest prisons in the country, the Pharaoh’s jail. Potiphar was jolted back into reality by the noise that greeted the arrival of the royal governor’s procession. He craned his neck to get a good view of the governor while praying silently under his breath to all the Egyptian gods that the governor would see him too. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he recalled how faithfully and diligently Joseph served him and how he didn’t trust him enough to believe his story when Tika accused him of attempting to rape her. Potiphar recalled all the misfortunes that befell him as soon as Joseph left the house: how his barns burned down, how he was disgraced in the royal court, how Tika left him, taking a significant portion of his wealth with her, and how he was reduced to a mere commoner. He couldn’t control himself anymore, and he broke into sobs, wailing Joseph’s name with the rest of the crowd. Just then, Joseph turned and looked in his direction. He smiled. Potiphar smiled. He knew his troubles were over.

Blood Ties

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Blood Ties

Perhaps a deeper understanding of the titular phrase will be achieved if its biological significance is examined, starting from the heart and the veins, the blood and its ties. The heart is an ever-throbbing turbine, a powerhouse of chaos of various emotions beating wildly to circle out the life juice, the blood, through a network of veins and arteries stretched out and intertwined. Intricately designed like a spider’s web. In that same vein, pun definitely intended, humans exist as part of a whole, a tiny thread as part of a yarn, a single living cell as part of a living organism, and we are drawn in towards the cesspool of throbbing society. As much as we all crave to be alone, no human is designed to exist in isolation. Just as a single drop of blood does not serve its purpose by being isolated but rather by being coordinated through the veins and arteries, so does the mapped-out path of life. In the early beginnings of civilization, the early man migrated across the world and settled wherever he pleased. He formed a community with people he shared blood with either by marriage or by birth. Soon, more individuals, including outsiders, joined him, and the small community began to expand. His descendants had the choice to stay or to migrate—to establish their own communities—and this way, like roots tapping out, civilization emerged. His blood is carried far and wide. This underscores the fact that since all men have been proven historically to have descended from one man, we are all connected. Though the link might prove stronger depending on our direct ancestors, It is thus not strange for people from a certain geographical location to be easily spotted wherever they go. This is because they carry sociocultural, psychological, and physical traits that scream where they come from in their blood. A very good instance is in the area of genetics. All humans have DNA,whicht makes us all so uniquely different and similar at the same time. We have inherited specific traits from our forebears that mark us out. Certain physical and psychological features, strengths and defects, gifts, or curses, as we sometimes choose to call them, And here, we see the cruel hand of fate. Children are made to bear the consequences of the decisions of their parents, as seen in the case of sickle cell anemia patients, or betteryetl, victims. When two people who are carriers of the illness come together, the children suffer for it. They live their lives knowing their life juice, their blood, is poisoned. There are certain things over which love does not triumph. As the blessings are shared, so are the curses. The ripple effects of the achievements and failures of our ancestors spill over into our heads. Innocent children are put under unnecessary pressure to live up to the standards set by their forefathers to prove that these gifts run in their blood and that they are not bastards. The bloodline we share confers on us impossible responsibilities to fulfill. Duties to our families, to our friends, to our neighbors, and to our society at large. Our blood ties tie us down like a goat is bound, with little space to roam and explore. So we spend every day of our finite lives, whether we like it or not, trying to live up to these duties because this is the lens through which society is programmed to see us. “Isn’t he the son of Prof….?” As we make our way through this dense maze, in this foggy haze, bearing unsolicited gifts of which we cannot voluntarily dispose, trying to figure out a pattern of which we did not choose to be a part, we realize that we are not alone, for as we are bound to the ones who have gone before, we are bound to the ones who come after. And we know we are walking on blood. The blood of those we have met and those we have not. The blood of those who have gone before and those who will inevitably come after us. Each drop has a different story. Maybe we are not really meant to understand it, but that is what life is: a puzzle, a question whose solution is constantly staring us in the face. Perhaps death, and only death, might one day do justice.

A Good Day

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A Good Day

Today just has to be a good day, Derick thought to himself as he left the room of his on-campus hostel. It was a cold Tuesday morning, and compared to other days, he felt pretty good. Today is one of those days when the sun just doesn’t seem eager to pop up from behind the clouds. The sky had a dark, moody feeling, and no big clouds existed. But it seemed like it would rain, as the breeze was uncomfortably chilling. It was the perfect weather to stay under the blanket. He did not meet a lot of people on the way. The birds on the tree on the way to his faculty seemed to have taken the hint. There was no loud chattering or singing today. He could hear the crushing of dry leaves under his feet as he walked through the boulevard. Sometimes, he wished he had that kind of luxury—to be free—like a bird. He was going through a difficult phase. One of those phases where you feel life raising you up, smacking you down, and trampling on you. The lectures kept getting more intense (and he was even on his way to another one). He was running out of his monthly allowance, and his dad had told him to hustle through the month’s remaining eighteen days. He was also having issues with admission officers, fellowship guys, and all the shit he had committed himself to. He felt sick. As he crossed the large parking lot of his faculty, he saw some bushy-tailed rodents scrambling around the area. The weather had become more intense, and he didn’t know which one to regret more: his decision to wear a checkered shirt on a black Chinos trouser or his decision to even go to his lecture at all. He had decided to obey his dad’s instruction to not wear black all the time like before. The gentlemanly look he had gone for had seen him choose the trousers that kept squeezing his groins. His poor balls!! But then he retained his cold, uninvolved persona even in this gentlemanly outfit. He wore a nose mask, even though it was no longer compulsory. With the massive flu epidemic subsiding, the mask became an accessory for completing his bad-boy look. He just didn’t have time for people trying to read his facial expressions. He looked around when he approached the October 22 Lecture Theater for signs of his coursemates. He saw some girls about 80 meters away from him; 20 meters from the hall, four of them were chattering excitedly. They seemed to be heading for the theater too. He didn’t know whether they were his coursemates because he barely knew any of them. He took in a really cold one and sighed tiredly. The terracotta bust in front of the hall looked darker than usual. He yawned slowly as he sauntered towards the hall. He had barely slept for days. He nearly fell as he stumbled on a tree root sticking out of the many nearby trees. He cursed. He was now crossing the pavement and about to enter the hall. His loud cursing must have attracted the girls, and they all stopped and looked at him. Fuck it, he thought, I’m not good at this. One of the ladies seemed to recognize him, though, Nonye. He was alarmed. She gasped, faced the girls, and pointed at him. “That’s the guy. That’s Derick,”  she said excitedly. The other three girls gave him a long stare and turned back to her, confused. Derick also took the moment to scan the girls. He froze. In the middle, a few feet from him, was Titi, the girl he had been chatting with anonymously; the other two girls he didn’t know, though. He had seen her during one of the orientations. Slender, light skin, sweet voice. She was like a ray of sunshine. She also had this refreshing appeal about her. He had investigated her and found out who she was. She was Titi Williams. He had gotten her number from the departmental group chat and had been talking to her for four months. She had been trying to find out who he was personally, but he had simply told her he was a coursemate and that he had gotten her number from the class group. Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn’t extremely lucky that she didn’t block him because of that. But she had been nice, though. Heat ran down his face. “Hi,” he waved shyly and glided into the safety of the hall. He could hear Nonye telling them how he was the popular “Derick, the shadow man” and how awesome his critiques and reviews of the student government have been. His cover was gone now. Felix could fish him out and roast him. He had sworn on different occasions to make life hell for whoever the dumbass was that kept poking at his administration. Press ethics could no longer protect him, and he felt Felix might finally get the chance to make good on his threats. It was his own doing. It’s just a slight letup. Despite his elaborate measures, the whole campus is about to learn. He could hear their collective gasps as he walked towards the far side of the hall so that he wouldn’t bump into those chatterers again. Titi felt a strange aura around the guy Nonye told them was Derick. She had seen him from afar when he kept pulling at his trousers. The look in his eyes was familiar. The energy and quiet way he interacted when he came closer were even more familiar. She turned and looked at him as he virtually ran into the hall. Just then, she saw the nasty old lady professor climb the podium. She scrambled hurriedly into the hall.

Nourishment In One Pack

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Nourishment In One Pack

I needed to feel warm on a cold morning was a hot cup of tea. Sadly, my beverage could barely satisfy a 6-month-old baby.  Hurriedly, I went to the supermarket nearby to get some beverages. On getting there, I was shocked to my marrows. I couldn’t afford to buy the exact items I went for. Yet again, inflation has happened to me.  Fortunately, a 3 in 1 pack of nourishment came to the rescue. I had all I needed to have a creamy cup of hot tea in one pack. I couldn’t get enough of the taste of the nourishing goodness as I sipped my tea one spoon after the other. The 3 in 1 CHOCOVYTE contains Milk, Chocolate and Sugar in one pack.  So, instead of spending more to buy these items individually, you will spend less by just going for Chocovyte which contains all 3 in 1 pack. In times like this, you need to spend less to get more. With as low as #150, you can get a sachet of this goodness. But the first 10 people to buy a dozen and above gets to buy at the rate of #120.  

Make Your Dreams Come True With Just 20k

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Make Your Dreams Come True With Just 20k

Indeed, dreams do come through. They say that “the beautiful ones are not yet born,” but trust me, if saying this would give me off as being proud, then be my guest. I am the true definition of beauty, both inside and outside. At least, I see the way heads turn whenever I step out. Despite all these, I am still single at almost 37 years old. Growing up, I had dreamt of getting married to my prince charming at or before age 30 but it seemed that dream would never come to fulfillment. The thought of coming back home to Mama’s constant query of “When will I carry your children?” was another problem to deal with. I mean, I had been dating the love of my life for 7 years, yet no sign of engagement. This was the case with Desmond, whom I gave 5 years of my life, but he ended up with his supposed cousin. As a young lady, I’m quite sure my story is relatable. I had given up on marriage until I came across “Forever and a Day More,” a book by Tessy Harrison, a relationship therapist. Getting a copy of that book made me the Mrs I am today. Less than four months after reading the book, my man proposed. No, it’s not Juju! I simply applied the strategies in the book. Dear beautiful lady, are you tired of waiting for your man to propose and get married to you? FOREVER AND A DAY MORE is all the miracle you need. It will teach you: ✅ How to make your man miss you everyday. ✅ How to identify a time waster. ✅ How to get your man jealous without ruining your relationship. ✅ 20 reasons why a long relationship may not lead to marriage and lots more. Not only that, you will also get a month-long counseling session with the author. Usually, this session costs #150,000 but by getting a copy of FOREVER AND A DAY MORE for 20,000 naira, you have automatically gotten a free counseling session. Distance is not a barrier, as a virtual session is possible for those who can not have a physical meeting. The free counseling is only available to the first 100 people who buy this book on or before the end of this month. Hurry now and purchase a copy and get your dream man wanting you beside him, FOREVER AND A DAY MORE. Click here to get a copy, today!

The Youths Creating A Peaceful Co-existence

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The Youths Creating A Peaceful Co existence

What does a peaceful world look like to you? How can the youths work together to achieve this? “Run!” father screamed. I jumped out of bed as I heard his voice; there was chaos again. The two houses, just opposite ours, had been engulfed by fire. I had seen them blow up too. Mother was frantically trying to get my siblings up; after what seemed like an eternity, she finally got them fully awake and alert for the trouble around them. She grabbed their hands and instructed me to follow closely at her heels as I was the eldest. Everyone was running helter-skelter, the terrifying youths were at it again. This was not the first time, the youths would strike, and I was quite certain it would not be the last. I looked back and realized father was not coming with us. I tried to bring my mother’s attention to this, but she was too busy trying to get us to safety. I kept tugging at the edge of her blouse till I was able to get her attention, “Father”, I said while pointing towards the direction of our house and panting as though I had just run a hundred-meter race. There was visible confusion in my mother’s eyes, and I wonder till today if she had considered going back for him. The next thing we heard was a loud sound right from the direction we were coming from, it was our house. The roof of the house I had lived in all my years was literally flying in the sky. My father! My heart palpitations had increased by a thousand, and I broke into sweat. The Peace Conference was getting nearer, and my mind kept taking me to how my father could still be alive if there had been peace. Here was an opportunity to save lives, and I would not miss it, not with that traumatizing incident I experienced. If we were to have a peaceful co-existence as neighbors in the society, then I believe it starts with the youths. The younger ones need to know why it is important for them to love one another. To care about every other person as much as they care about themselves. This has to be instilled into them by everyone, the parents first, their teachers, and the leaders in their various religious organizations. All these people have to let the younger ones know why they need to love every other person as themselves. The youths can also take up seminars, and conferences, just like the one I am hosting and give insights to why anything but a peaceful society would be destructive. It is commonly said that the idle mind is the devil’s workshop. We could create an ambassadorship program that would help get the youths involved. Here, we put them in a position where they become the preachers of peace and then ensure there is an award for outstanding ambassadors and compensation awards. This builds them and leaves them no time to get into society’s bad vices. We need to build constructive minds, celebrate their little achievements and never leave them with a reason to believe that violence can solve anything. We need to make them interested in peacefulness itself and being intentional about fostering a peaceful society. ALSO READ: How to Become a Content Creator: 10 Steps To achieve a bright and peaceful future, we start by instilling the importance of the youths who would indeed become the leaders of that future. We need all hands on deck to build a place we can always call home.        

Wouldn’t You Like To Save Extra Money And Also Earn Like Me?

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Wouldn't You Like To Save Extra Money And Also Earn Like Me (2)

I got tired of the life I was living. No job after years of graduation as an Agricultural Extensionist. I had little or no money to take care of my basic needs, let alone take care of Mama. After sending many job applications, I gave up trying and decided to take the bull by the horns. I was passionate about writing, so I decided to develop my writing skills, after which I monetized it and started making cool money. Over time, I saw the need to promote my writing using visuals. This spurred me to learn graphics design. Guess what? I enrolled for basic graphics training with as little as 2,000 naira during the COVID-19 lockdown in the comfort of my home. I learnt graphics designing to be able to design for my brand to cut the cost of paying a designer every time I needed a simple design. After the training, every time I made posts with my designs, I always got heartwarming compliments. Gradually, I moved from designing for myself to designing for other brands. Of course, I started earning from graphics designing. I bet you would love to earn like me. As more and more businesses leverage the online space, the need for graphics keeps increasing. Graphic design is the visual representation of information in the form of flyers, banners, animated videos, etc. ???? Brands and business owners use graphic designs to communicate their brand’s messages to their audience and customers ???? Graphic designs are used to advertise products and services in the most catchy, colourful and appealing manner. As a business owner, I have discovered that graphics are indispensable in business, and I have decided to give you the opportunity to learn and earn from my SMARTPHONE graphics design course. You Will Learn: ???? How to design with two different design tools. ???? The do’s and don’ts of designing ???? How to design product fliers ???? How to make real estate designs ???? How to monetize your graphics skills. The DESIGN MASTERY course goes for 5,000 naira. However, the first 10 people to grab this offer from now till tomorrow midnight will pay 4,000 naira + one week of FREE mentorship.          

The High Stakes of Gambling: A Cautionary Tale

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The High Stakes of Gambling A Cautionary Tale

Gambling is not only frowned upon and prohibited by Allah, it is ruinous and is one of the major sins because it is a form of Riba. The rate at which people bet or gamble is scary and alarming, and the fact that anyone can gamble in their comfort zone makes the situation worse. A few years ago, people couldn’t gamble until they left their homes. The gamblers did have locations that were always hideous to perform their activities. Unfortunately today, things have changed with the help of smartphones and technological advancements. Gambling or betting platforms are now something people can easily have access to. Hardly would you go online nowadays without coming across one or two ads placed on betting. The level of publicity they give it is just too much, and there are some sets of people called comedians that promote it too. Some online banks even give people bonuses to start their betting or gambling journey. They all are finding a way or the other to involve people in gambling because if they don’t force it down on people’s throats,  how will they make their money? What bothers me is, don’t people know that betting or gambling is designed for them to lose? That is why they barely win but keep returning to it, thinking luck will be on their side one day. Before, we used to know betting as masculine, but now it is a thing of both genders. Girls now play it without shame; how sad is that! May Allah rectify us. There is a lot of damage gambling has caused and will still cause because a larger percentage of the people involved in it won’t leave it, and more people are going to join. Recently,  I came across a post about a young guy who committed suicide because he lost millions of money in it. I also knew someone who stole his friend’s generator, sold it, then used the money to gamble and still lost. Subhanallah!. People involved in gambling do not just become addicts; some of them steal, risk their properties, borrow money, become depressed, and commit suicide, thinking they will win, forgetting that gambling is designed for them to lose. So many people have gone bankrupt due to gambling, all in the name of they want to get rich quickly.