NEIGHBOR PLEASE DON'T HELP ME.
All our lives we have been familiar with the 'h' word. Help. We've heard it many times from people and have even uttered it ourselves. If you say you haven't, then I think you must be another Almighty God (and me I know there is only one Almighty God). Everybody needs help. The word 'help' conjures up images of Love. Freedom. Goodwill. Service. Friendship. And so naturally, we welcome help. But stop for a minute. Sometimes that 'h' word has a negative ring to it for me, so I reject it. Strange? Let's see. Times like when Harry 'helps' me with 500 Naira and then expects me to lie on my back at his say-so and expects to dictate what I do and where I go and who I talk to. Like when my father's cousin's sister's mom bought me biscuit when I was eight years old and because of that expects me to seat for JAMB for her son. And then my favorite scenario. It's cooking time. Mommy asks you to carry that small 'b