Adaora Excerpt


, ,

Adaora welcomes you into her world:


Ikechukwu clenched his jaws. He looked at his wife through squinted eyes, walked to the door and slammed it behind him. He went into his car and sat down; his large frame slumped over the steering wheel. When he looked up, he stared into the distance, oblivious of his surroundings. He wondered why, in the name of all that is good, he was so in love with this woman? Why did his heart soften at thoughts of retaliation for her behavior towards Adaora?

He always knew the answers to these questions. As much as he wished otherwise, none of them could shirk the path which lay ahead. They were all pawns in the hands of destiny.

I began to feel faint. Something was happening to me and I almost fell to the floor, before I heard Adaora’s voice.

“Oh Ferni, this is crazy. I lost you for a while. You established a metaphysical connection which I did not expect so soon: at least not without guidance. This indicates you have a strong spiritual perception.” Her eyes sparkled and gleamed. I looked at her puzzled.

“Established a what? I asked.

“You connected with my childhood and were able to feel and be immersed in the moment.

“So, did you have fun, little sister?”

Amaka’s voice interrupted, before I could respond. She was sitting on Adaora’s bed thumbing through a comic.

“Why are your friends so greedy? Did you see how they ate all the cake?”

My temple throbbed and my head ached. I was ready to lash out at Amaka. Adaora was her younger sister, for heaven’s sake! She deserved better. Powerless, it dawned on me I was there solely to observe. I could neither rewrite history nor influence the past.

Adaora watched in silence as I witnessed the replay of her life. Having no mother is a blessing when you have one gifted with meanness from the pit of hell. Despite the closeness shared between Amaka and their mother, there was still no aura to validate their affinity for each other.

Having not received the response she sought, Amaka left to join their mother in the living room. Adaora smiled from her corner in the room, the meanness of her sister’s words had not registered with her. She was more involved in her conversation with the young girl sitting opposite her. The girl was invisible to all except Adaora. I soon understood why. The girl’s name was Efuru. Her ghost-like appearance was similar to Adaora’s when she first revealed herself to me. She, like Adaora, was an Abler. Her role was to facilitate the smooth transition of Initials, or Gifted Ones, in and out of the spirit world.

January Challenge… My Awakening Experience and Moving On…


, , , , , , , , , ,

I realized there was simply more to life than this physical one at a very early age, and this was significantly glaring after a few incidents. I grew up partly in my home town of Nkwessi, a small village in the eastern region of my home country Nigeria. Filled with mysteries and things I deemed magical. At the time, I always wondered how everything just managed to make sense to the villagers.

I was enthralled and in love with this home town of mine, and could not wait to go there at any given opportunity. I spent my time between our home in the village and our home in Lagos, with my papa and step mother; while my mom went back to get a degree in the university of Ife, in the south of the country.

Shuttling between Lagos and Nkwessi with my parents, was the norm growing up. I explored every nook and cranny of my paradise, spending a lot of time in the river swimming. I believe this endeared me so much to water and I have a really close spiritual connection to this life source 🙂

Credit: Free Digital Photos.Net

Credit: Free Digital Photos.Net

My best friend was my cousin, Chinelo. We called her Chichi. Chichi and I did everything together; we would sit by the big rubber tree near my uncle’s house and talk about the village elders and the weird traditions and rites, commonly practiced in our village. Chichi and I were fascinated by the many rites that went on around us.

Now you must understand the setup of this place, there were rules and traditions excluding females from so many things.  Back then, we used to wonder why our younger brothers and cousins were considered older and superior by village laws, and the strangeness of not being allowed into certain areas of the village and not being able to see certain masquerades because of being female, all were a mystery to us.  The village had so many do’s and don’ts, we simple chalked it all up to ignorance.

In retrospect, after our introduction and understanding of worshiping in a church environment, I began to see similarities in how women were viewed as spiritually different to men, even though the village version was cruder. My siblings and I were exposed to different types of churches through our mother. She was sold on Christ, his death and coming back, and she made sure all her children got to know about him. Most folks in my village were Anglicans at the time, but this never stopped many of them from participating in traditional rites and cults. These were different to our mode of worship in churches.  We found amusement in others, who questioned those engaged in traditional rites, casting them into the pits of hell for being heathens. Our rationale was that God did put us all on earth, but he also permitted diverse ways of worship and ways of praising him. But no one ever paid any attention to us, what did we know?

The churches my mother attended, outside the Anglican mode of worship, aroused my curiosity about spirituality. Unlike the Anglican songs of praise, and stifling conformity, spiritual churches like Christ healing Holy Sabbath Church, were filled with energy and charisma. Hands were clapped, drums beat and worshipers jumped high into the air, shouting Jehovah, hallelujah and hosanna at the top of their lungs. There was candle burnings and speaking in tongues, the display of which both frightened and mesmerized me. The only thing I had against them was the sting of candle wax on my poor skin (many would scream child abuse today) lol.

Chichi and I were seven years old when she fell ill with malaria. This was a killer back then, as different strains eluded various treatments. I remember going home and seeing her so frail and skeletal. I did tease her, but I was filled with overwhelming sadness. She was still ill, as of the day I returned with my parents to our home in the city. I could only hope that my papa would allow me return with him on his next visit.

Two weeks after my return to the city, I also fell ill. I was off school for about a week. I had a dream, one of the nights on which my illness was worst. I was on a vast beach. The beach stretched far beyond my view and there were people queued on two lines. On one line were hundreds of people dressed in flowing white robes. On the second line, hundreds of people dressed in regular clothing. Both lines were made up of people of different races, color, male, female and children. Considering the vast number of people on both lines, I could not comprehend how the two men, who stood on a raised platform at the very front, where the lines started, would be able to conclude the roll call in time.
I was on the line with people dressed in regular clothing, and while there, I felt someone tug at my arm. I turned around and standing there was Chichi, dressed in a flowing bright white robe.

I hugged her excitedly and asked what she was doing here and why she was dressed in white. Isn’t it exciting to be in this awesome place, I asked.
Chichi looked sad and shook her head repeatedly, saying no, no, I did not belong here. I asked why. Her response was to plead with me to come with her. She tried pulling me out of the line and I struggled to remain where I was, but Chichi was much powerful than I. She succeeded in pulling me away from the line, to a corner. This was when I noticed that she no longer looked skeletal. She was radiant!
She hugged me tightly and whispered, “We’ll see again Njide, but not now, later you understand.” (Njide is my Igbo name, pronounced In-gee-day).

I woke up with my arms still in an embrace, and calling her name. I was covered in sweat and my heart felt as if it would break in two. I cried so much that morning, my stepmom almost went crazy with worry. She did not want my father to blame her for my unhappiness…another story. Later that evening, my father came home with the news. Chichi had died a week ago back in the village.

I was devastated, confused and angry, looking for someone to blame. I remember telling my father it was his fault I never got to say goodbye. If only he had taken me to the village one last time. Of course mine was the ranting of an angry child. He understood and did not reprimand me for my rudeness.

I missed out attending Chichi’s burial ceremony and farewell ritual. When a young child dies, it was customary in my village, for all her younger siblings and playmates to be cleansed of her aura and spirit. This is done by bathing each child by her graveside, chanting incantations to severe ties of the dead from the living.

This is done, because, prior to these rituals, kids told their parents or adults, that they still see and play with their dead friends and siblings. On this occasion of Chichi’s death, I was the only one who did not have this ritual bath. In the aftermath of my dream, it dawned on me that Chichi appearing in my dream, saved my life.

If I had remained on that line, I would have responded to my name during the roll call, to the end that I would not have woken from my sleep. There’s nothing wrong with death…it just was not my time. The universe orchestrated circumstances to ensure the separation rite was not performed on me, making it possible for Chichi to reach and save me. This incident with Chichi is something that will remain with me as long as I live and I still miss her to this day.

For me, being awakened is a process and not a destination. Like the stages of infancy to adulthood, man undergoes stages of awareness before attaining a higher level of consciousness: worshiping a God through object before ultimately realizing that we are gods to each other. Representatives of the Great I AM. My awareness is about being spiritually conscious of my surroundings and me. I believe in Christ and have the uttermost respect for Eastern, and other belief systems; simple because I have grown to understand that the only true form of worship, or praise of God or the Infinite, is for man to find himself and acknowledge the I Am, in himself.

There is no need for dogma in the worship of God, the Creator or the Being: the only prerequisite is Love.

Mom returned home one day to tell me she had found God. I smiled and asked her where. She said in the ‘O’. I asked what is the ‘O’? Her reply was, the ‘O’ is infinite, endless and beyond measure. The infinite nature of the letter ‘O’, is symbolic of the completeness and dual nature of man. The spiritual and physical nature of God, reflected in the spiritual and physical nature of man as God. This awareness, catapulted me to a whole new dimension which I’m glad to say, continues to date.

I have had experiences whereby, I was shown things in my dreams, many of which have occurred. I grew up surrounded by instances of supernatural occurrences to myself and others around me. Some involved being saved from disasters or accidents that should have taken their lives.  My husband is an example: traveling to work on a busy stretch of road in London, Fulham Palace Road (A219) towards Putney Bridge, he fell asleep driving. He was about to crash into the side railings when the horn (his own horn) woke him up! For 9am in the morning, he did not run into any other car, there were no pedestrians about and surprisingly no other car close by. Something or someone used his own hands to blast the horn of the car he was driving. As if that was not enough for the day, at the exact spot, driving back home and the same thing happened. The only difference being, he was now driving on the opposite side of the road.

Fulham Palace Road is always busy, both with vehicles and pedestrians. But surprisingly, twice on the same day, in the exact spot, no one was anywhere close to him. Using his own hands, the horn was pressed, waking him up the moment before he would have gone headlong into the railings and then the buildings behind them. Growing up around such occurrences made it impossible to ignore the existence of something beyond the physical; an awareness of the spiritual nature of man.

Credit: Digital Photos

Credit: Digital Photos

At age fourteen, I had my first experience with the Light (I refer to it as Light, because that is what I know it to be…). I was upset one afternoon because mom would not let me visit my friend who lived in another part of  Lagos. I did everything possible to persuade her, but she was weary of that area of town and what I might be influenced to get up to, over there. I remember telling her she had no confidence in her job raising me, if a simple visit to the other side of town was such a threat to her. For that, I was banished to my room. Teenage hormones, or fury, I don’t know which, but something completely took over me…Rage!

All I wanted to do was die, which would show her. I thought stupidly and I proceeded to hold my breath. Something I had done in the past, and strangely, the sensation of the effect was always, rather pleasing. On this particular day, I over did it. The sensation started as a slight heat on my forehead and immediately it shot down my spine. Soon, my entire body was overwhelmed with heat. The discomforting feeling of not breathing began to wear off. All I felt was calm. I was floating and I liked it, very much. I was going towards a light. I remember saying to myself, I’m leaving, and soon I’ll be dead.

The word DEAD, sent panic waves through me and my whole world flashed before my eyes. It was like a movie trailer and it ended with my mom’s face as she looked down on me with tears streaming down her face. I was no longer happy, or eager to remain where I was, but it was almost too late to come back. I began to reach back, step further away from the light, but it was as though a force field was pulling against me. I could still hear the physical world, faintly…cars and street noise. I was tired and out of breath.

Suddenly, I heard a loud banging and then another. Then I heard mom yelling my name. She wanted me to stop whining and come help her with dinner. I remember holding on to her voice and with one final struggle, I was virtually hurled away from the force. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer on my bed, but on floor. Mom was still banging on the door. I crawled and let her in, whispering that I will be out a minute.

Fast forward to my adult years, I was now married and a mother to seven children. Part of my journey towards being enlightened is my experience with Light.  Several years ago, I was at a place in my life, when everything was falling apart. I suppose the stress brought on the headaches. This also was the period when second experience with the Light began.

It started at first as a tiny stream of light that would suddenly take over me, especially when really tired. This was around 2009, the period I was diagnosed with migraine headaches. I would lie awake in bed.  Aware of the noises around me—I could hear the kids and the television downstairs—until I felt a concentration of heat on my forehead and next, I would see a stream of bright light. Gradually, I began to see images, almost like a silent motion picture. I would see the most beautiful falling hills, and sometimes mountains glazed with ice and snow. At other times, it would be a meadow, or a vast never ending desert of sand. These images were soothing and calming to me. Knowing I was awake and yet having this experience, I called out to one of the kids, to know if they could see what I saw. I did call but no sound emitted from me.

These experiences never last long when I do observe the time, but over there, it seems as if I had spent hours. At this point, once I get off the bed, my head always felt better. I somehow understood that there was much more to the light than making my headaches go away. As time went on, these light visitations began to last longer, and the images also began to change. I started to see silhouettes of people. Over a period of time, the silhouettes became clearer and I began to see people. I found all this exciting, and soon discovered that I no longer had to be tired or have an aura of migraine to have the Light experience. Soon, I began to put myself in a state where the lights came to me. I see people, in gardens or malls or in their living rooms.  Most times I don’t know who they are, sometimes I do. So far, I have had no communication with anyone, even though I have observed people communicating with each other; without being privy to their discussions.

I am ecstatic about these experiences for two reasons: this was a means of getting rid of my migraines without medication. Secondly, the calm and soothing experience this also brought into my life in the aftermath of each experience.
My awakening is realizing that God exists through man. Man is God to man. If I can love my fellow-man, I can love God, and my neighbor can and will experience the love of God. Whatever little act of kindness I show to those who need it—whether they deserving or not—will make the world a better place. Every cruel or good act performed towards any other living thing is done by God. If man is more caring and tolerant of his fellow-man, everyone will perceive a loving caring God, as experienced firsthand through another being. Refer to my blog post from last year: I AM BECAUSE OF LOVE.

Life is a school and I am its avid student; a work in progress. I’m still learning, and will continue to learn from life and all that is life. The opportunity to rehash aspects of my life is a wonderful experience, which I thank Barbara for providing. I consider this a soul-searching exercise, as our individual and collective journeys serve as a compass to each other.

Barbara, thank you. I am so glad you chose me to be a part of this.

May perfect peace be with you always, Amen.

Dear Mom


, , , ,

Dear Mom,

Reblogged from Susan Irene Fox:

On the Upcoming Anniversary of My Mother’s Death

Dear Mom,

January 30 will be the 28th anniversary of your passing. It seems like so many more years have gone by, so much of life has occurred and disappeared.

The memories are so vivid of the few weeks before and the several weeks after. The terminal diagnosis, the fog in the hospital corridor, the roaring lion that came out of my voice insisting to relatives and doctors that we bring you home instead of shutting you away in a convalescent hospital.

Read more… 420 more words

When our memories are this beautiful, we joyfully keep going down the lane.

5 Simple Things We Forget As We Grow Older


, , , , ,

5 Simple Things Things We Forget as We Grow Older

Reblogged from Working Mom in the City:

Click to visit the original post

  • Click to visit the original post
  • Click to visit the original post
  • Click to visit the original post
  • Click to visit the original post

5 Simple Things We Forget as We Grow Older…

  1. Hug and show affection to the people that matter most.
    You’re never too old to remind your loved ones that you love them. You’re never to old to show you care. A hug can go a long way. Ask your grandparents how their week has been, ask your mother for a baking recipe, tell your old pops you love him.

Read more… 238 more words

I could not agree more…food for thought 🙂

Shauny Award for Blogging Excellence


, , ,

This is one award for which I believe there are more worthy recipients than me: a Shauny Award for Blogging Excellence. A heartfelt thank you to Mich-in French for nominating me for this award. shaunyaward The Rules  are quite straightforward:

  • Show Humanity
  • Show Love,
  • Be Yourself, Don’t Be Others,
  • Don’t Gossip,
  • and Share This Award with 10 others.

My worthy nominees are:

Chris Martin Writes, all you need do is read, An Open Letter To Society

Tales of a Slightly Stressed Mother, see this post: Be a little silly sometimes

Dylan DiamondWhat We Can Learn

Reading Pleasure: various subject matter

Owls and Orchids : Imperfectly Prefect

My Chronic Life Journey

Working Mom In The City : 5 Simple Things We Forget As We Get Older

Vic Briggs: Rape – A World Pandemic



, , , , , , , , ,

Tolerance is love, and is the cornerstone of any wholesome belief system. You cannot profess love without tolerance. Abominations, is how a great number of Nigerians refer to Gay/Lesbians and Transgender citizens of the country. A day ago, Goodluck Jonathan, our President, signed a bill criminalizing homosexuality in the country, and most people are reveling in ecstasy about this.

Nigeria is one of the most corrupt and lawless countries in our universe. Her leaders are crude and morally bankrupt, and frankly, the only redeeming quality of this beautiful country is her people: a passionate and determined people, who are driven and deeply seated in religion and worship. Nigeria, somehow, has lost its faith, replacing it with dogma and misworship.

Under the guise of fighting God’s cause, but is God disabled or invalid, that he requires enforcers to champion his cause? Saul did same before he became the Apostle Paul for Christ. As a result, he lived with hernia for the rest of his days. Human beings are being dehumanized, victimized and sometimes killed—for their sexual orientation. Where in the Scriptures are Christians called to arms, to wage war against enemies of God? Love those who despitefully use you…Pray for your enemies and if they hunger feed them…naked? Clothed them, but if Lesbian or Gay, hang them out to dry? Crucify them? If civilization began in Africa, why should homosexuality be foreign to the African culture?

Rumors are being spread to the effect that homosexuals are out and about recruiting ‘members’ and soon, the country will be overrun by them. I did not realize being gay required subscription, and is therefore optional. This all sounds far right republican, and it saddens me it comes straight out of my motherland. All from a country where it’s LEGAL for a forty-nine year old pervert to marry a nine-year-old girl, and rape her, all in the name of consummating the sham of a marriage.

Based on Islamic laws, Nigeria recently passed a law, making twelve the legal age for marriage, for a girl; yet, Nigeria is not an Islamic state. This is the madness of the depraved old men ruling the country. How can any sane person take such leaders seriously? How can anyone begin to reason with such mind sets?

Now that this law has been passed, rest assured the ignorant among us—already taking pleasure and pride, in humiliating and ostracizing homosexuals—will go on a killing spree. Remember this is a country where a human life is worthless. A man is easily killed for stealing candy worth a dollar or a woman stripped naked publicly and sexually assaulted in plain sight, for stealing pepper, take your pick.

As hopeless as the situation appears, I still hold out on hope/faith. My hope is in the future, our children; and one of them Sibbly Whyte, a future leader of my people, has a fair and rational grip on the situation thank heavens. Here is Sibbyl’s take:

Sibbyl Whyte
January 14th, 2014

Gay; once upon a time, it meant being happy.

I’d like to believe that if Jesus lived in Nigeria in the 21st century, he would have been tolerant of gay people. And before anyone quotes Old testament for me, remember the Prostitute in the New?
Yea, she was considered an ‘abominable’ being, worthy of being stoned to death. Did Jesus Christ let them? Did he tell them to lock her up in some dungeon? No! He asked them to carry on with their senseless punishment, if they were blameless, if they hadn’t committed one sin or the other.

ALL Sins are equal.

So, if you think that gay people offend God more than rapists, adulterers, fornicators, thieves, murderers, abortionists, etc. My friend, you are sitting on a long thing.

If you believe that Homosexuality is a crime worth 14 years of lost years, then you’ve failed the second greatest commandment which is to ‘Love thy neighbour as thine self’. You would not wish to be locked up for being different.

Sanctimoniousness would not get you anywhere near the streets of heaven.

Personally, I’d take the homosexuals over the rapists that fuck right and destroy lives. We do not heavily enforce the laws concerning Rape and yet, people applaud this move of locking consenting individuals of same sex. Sigh. I won’t even talk about how this could easily be a means of wasting innocent lives. Sigh, Sigh.

For the leaders that put this on the table and saw it through, I wish Nigerians could see right up their asses and that of their kids. I would be damned if half of them haven’t swum in the pools of homosexuality. Sadly, they have given us this bone, and like rabid dogs, most chew on.

At least, the Goodluck government would be remembered for making sure that Nigerian-born dicks went into the designated holes. Yaaay!
While they are at it, I hope they pass a bill that would stop anal sex. It’s the same thing with gay-men sex if you ask me.

This is what we get when a nation is peopled by individuals that let religious, cultural and personal sentiments take precedence over the provision of a better life for the average Nigerian. Would ridding the nation of gay people put food on the table? Would it provide jobs for graduates, pave our roads and make us any more developed? Would it make everything that is wrong with Nigeria right?


I thought as much.


What A Touch Can Do

What a Touch Can Do

Reblogged from Susan Irene Fox:

Click to visit the original post

And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, “I will; be clean.” And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. (Matthew 8:2-3)

As a single woman in her 60s, I live a fairly isolated life. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a full life; I write, I study, I have friends, I go to church.

Read more… 777 more words

Sometimes words are not needed, sometimes all we need is a touch.


Dotta Raphels Has Moved Site…

Dear WordPress family,

I’m sorry that this all happened so fast, but I have just moved my blog to my website which is currently under construction. The new location of my blog is: We are working hard to get everything in working order, so please bear with me.

I did not envisage the current problems I am having, but everything should be back to normal, soon.

You will find, as you browse through the new blog site, I have lost all previous likes. Similarly, I would like to invite everyone to subscribe to my blog again as previous Follows no longer work, and also like posts again.

Thank you,


Dotta Raphels’ Adaora Book Launching


, , , , ,

Dear WP family, I would like to invite everyone to the launching of my debut novel, Adaora. A paranormal romantic thriller.

The journey arriving at this point, was made easy by the support and friendship I found here on WordPress. It’s unbelievable, the caliber of wonderful, interesting people I have come to know and treasure.

Enjoy my book trailer on YouTube and like it.

Adaora D4Visit Facebook and like my page.

Sign up to attend the event

Book Summary:

Adaora invites the reader into a world of intricate folklore, rich in myths and legends. Where people live, side by side strange and exciting tales. Some of which are atmospheric, and some downright frightening.

The setting and the horror elements of Adaora are distinctive and exotic, and features supernatural entities, magic, and a fight that could shatter the universe. The subject and symbolism used in Adaora are something anyone can understand and relate to, no matter where they live or what kind of culture they come from. Adaora is a disturbing, violent, and tragic story of betrayal that leads to rivalry between two female gods.

Adaora is about lost love, jealousy, dangerous – murderous – passion, fear, and fury. Good against evil forces.

This is a battle between a good queen, against her strong and lustful cousin, willing to go to extremes to achieve her goal. It involves the innermost fear of losing everything. Hits a nerve and stirs up a whirlwind of disquieting emotions. With all its supernatural elements, Adaora is a kind of Fatal Attraction, laced with mysticism.

Fernanda is an everyday young woman who visits Tortoise Cove beach, in Nigeria. An adorable attractive man, catches her attention and she discovers that she can read his mind, actually she can read the mind of anyone connected to this man. His name is Tarri, he has a strange telepathic ability of reading the minds of women. Females are attracted to him.

It turns out that Tarri was a god, a powerful and mighty entity. He was in love with queen Adaora. However, their happiness ended when Amaka, a dark, powerful and erotic goddess, using dark magic, seduced him.  This betrayal led to Queen Adaora’s fury and heartbreak and Tarri lost his status as a god. From that moment onwards, Tarri had to live his life as a mortal man, without recollection of his divine origins.

Adaora banished Amaka and cursed her with promiscuity and discontentment. Amaka’s refusal to accept her punishment meant trying to thwart the universal law of retributive justice. Amaka and Adaora became mortal enemies. Their violent and relentless fight over centuries became a threat to the universe. If Amaka succeeds in defeating Adaora, Tarri will never be united with Adaora and justice will cease to exist. Chaos is all that will be.