By Nancy Mbaegbu
Anthony Joshua: A boxer’s cross, altered future
Happy new year my Aprokonation. Wishing you guys a gistful year ahead. Una know say we never even eat Xmas rice finish when Nigeria happened to our global boxing colossus?
As festivities still dey settle and spoon still dey hover for cooler, news just jam ground say Anthony Joshua; British heavyweight boxing star and Olympic gold medalist was involved in a serious road accident along the Lagos–Ibadan expressway near Sagamu, Ogun State.
The Lexus jeep wey carry AJ slammed into a stationary truck near the Sinoma area, and confusion take over that stretch of road. Metal bend, people shout, time pause.
Inside that single moment, five grown men were pulled into fate’s grip; two lives ended there, one person battled injuries, while two others escaped with nothing but shock and trembling hands. Anthony Joshua survived with only minor injuries, the kind wey body fit shake off but mind go remember for long time.
Na here where the gist turn bitter and heavier. Update land say the two people wey lose their lives no be random faces, na Latz and Sina, Anthony Joshua’s personal trainer and his coach. Inner circle. His main men.
Sina na the same guy wey just dey prep AJ weeks ago, while Latz na the backbone behind his routines. To make the matter worse, gist say na AJ invite them come Nigeria. Omo that kind invitation wey turn lifetime burden.
Meanwhile, eyewitnesses yarn say rescue start sharp; AJ comot alive. But people still dey ask why police vehicle carry injured person instead of proper emergency care. The debate no be who sabi drive pass, na whether systems dey awake when matter burst. Because if road design dey sane and response dey swift, maybe outcomes fit shift small. Maybe.
Authorities talk their own. FRSC point finger say speed and wrong overtaking join hands; say the jeep lose control near Sinoma. Solomon Buchi enter with hot take. Him question FRSC, say how dem take sure say speed na the main issue. Buchi ask where monitoring dey, wey trailer dey park like say na viewing centre for expressway.
From there, the online mood change sharp. Nigerians split like cracked plate. Online judges begin session. One person remind everybody say money no dey buy immunity for Nigerian roads.
Another question why trailer dey park for expressway like say na bus stop. Some argue say speed and reckless driving na the issue; others ask how speed take get confirmed without proper monitoring. Everybody get opinion, but the silence wey surround the families loud pass all.
Ogun State don send condolence and confirm say the deceased na foreign nationals. Bodies moved to Sagamu. Investigations continue. Meanwhile, people still dey ask why emergency response always look improvised when seconds matter pass statements.
At the end of everything, Anthony Joshua dey alive, but two families don enter mourning. This gist no be the kind wey you laugh and scroll. E stick. As we dey pack Xmas and New Year plates, Nigeria don remind everybody say road no dey check passport, no dey respect fame, no dey pity invitation. And sometimes, the real loss no be the crash, na the people wey no come back with you.
When migration swindles marriage
My gist people, make una gather here o This one no be ordinary marriage wahala, this one na premium disappearance with incense and silence.
Some marriages end with shouting, lawyers, and flying plates. This one ended with silence and a flight ticket. No argument. No warning. No goodbye text. Just a woman who slept as a wife and vanished before breakfast, leaving behind pillows, prayers, and a husband who would soon discover that eighteen years of marriage can be erased with one passport photo. Omo, this life no dey warn person.
Pastor Lucy Wairimu, marriage counsellor by day, quiet escape artist by destiny, spent 18 solid years inside matrimony only to step out like someone sneaking out of a boring meeting. No noise. No quarrel. Just poof that human being evaporated before sunrise.
While her husband dey wake up every morning dey plan retirement and thinking about grandchildren, madam dey fill visa forms like devotionals. Pen moving softly, mouth sealed tight. Not her church. Not her children. Not even the man wey dey call her “my crown” knew. Tickets booked like secret prayers. One morning, he woke up and met only pillows and memories. Omo, silence loud pass shouting sometimes.
The man searched like someone whose heart fell inside gutter. Nakuru streets saw his shadow. Police stations knew his name. Hospitals and mortuaries greeted him with cold eyes. Him dey pray, dey shake, dey age overnight. Love turned to anxiety. Marriage turned to unanswered calls. Meanwhile, madam was already airborne, adjusting seatbelt.
Then DCI brought the kind of news wey no need pepper to burn mouth. Madam had travelled. Not as wife. Not as mother. On paper, she was single like house key, childless like empty folder.
Eighteen years wiped clean with biro. Children edited out. Husband reduced to “no record found.” That was how the man found out, not from his wife, but from government paperwork. This one na heartbreak with official stamp.
Most people no dey marry because of love again, dem dey marry while waiting for better weather. Once the sky clear, dem pack hope and disappear. Some men dey think dem get companion, not knowing say dem dey share space with countdown clock. Betrayal no dey always come with warning bell; sometimes it comes with passport photo.
So here we are, sipping hot gist and cold reality. A good man left with unanswered questions, while madam chased fresh beginnings. Life no balance, but e dey teach. As elders go say, wisdom no be noise; na awareness. To whom sense is given, make e tighten belt. Because sometimes, the person holding your hand today is already rehearsing how to let go tomorrow.
Blind faith with consequences
My gistlovers, una remember Aunty Esther? The woman whose medical decision turned Nigeria into a loud debating hall. Yes, that same woman wey make everybody suddenly become doctor, pastor, ethicist, and whatsApp consultant overnight?
Auntie Esther, known online as the ever-vocal AuntieEsther, no just battle cancer, she battled opinions, scriptures, timelines, and hot takes, all at once. Her matter no be small.
As doctors dey talk medicine, Auntie Esther dey talk conviction. She made it clear from day one: blood no go enter her body, full stop. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Not even a small pint. Doctor say her organs dey okay, chemo fit start, but blood level need boost. She say injection go handle am. Faith locked. Decision sealed.
Nigerians clap, argue, donate, and shout all at once. Money came in like rain wey forget say roof dey leak. Over ₦30 million raised. Everybody dey proud and invested in her matter. Suddenly, this was no longer just her sickness; it became a public project with expectations and opinions attached.
Then wahala enter when gist leak say her church no dey smile at the idea of blood transfusion at all. Accept am, and discipline go follow. Doctors table two options: faster one with blood, slower one without. The slower one dey cost pass patience. But belief no dey negotiate price.
As days passed, the online space turned courtroom. Some say, “Respect her faith.” Others say, “Why collect money if you no go follow medical advice?” Some even suggest refund like say na online shopping. Meanwhile, Auntie Esther dey thank Nigerians, dey smile through pain, dey hold on to hope and prayer like last bus for night.
Then December carried the kind news wey make cruise reduce. Auntie Esther passed on. No long grammar. No debate. Just silence and soft RIP messages. Even the people wey dey argue before now dey type with gentle fingers. Death has a way of humbling opinions.
So here we are again, not laughing loud, but nodding quietly. A story of faith, choice, love, and consequence. You fit agree. You fit disagree. But Auntie Esther lived by her belief to the very end. And Nigeria go still argue am for years, because some stories no dey end when the person goes; dem just change tone. May her soul and the souls of everybody wey we loose keep resting in peace.
