my Autobio data π§π️
My name is Abraham Taelolu Babarinde.
My picture, taken around year 2014.
I'm a Nigerian. I was born on the twenty-first of February in the year nineteen-seventy-nine (21/2/1979).
I'm a friendly person, straightforward, open-hearted, not stingy, romantic. A very trustworthy and very hardworking person.
Height: 6 feet (182.88 centimetres)
Body type: Athletic.
Facial Features: Oblong (long) face, I grow a stylised beard, joined with my moustache (the bedded set of hair above the upper lip and right at the bank of the nose hole area and of course some richly condensed eyebrows.
Skin colour: I have a light skin type
Eye colour: Black
Hair colour: Black
Nationality: Nigerian
Place of origin in Nigeria: Ogun State
Place of birth: Ibadan
Present place of residence: Ibadan City, Oyo State, Nigeria.
Languages spoken fluently: Yoruba, English.
Education
Primary school: I.D.C. Pry sch. Erinkoja obe, owode estate, Apata, Ibadan, Oyo State.
Secondary school: St. Michael African Church grammar school, owode estate, Apata, Ibadan, Oyo State.
Due to financial instability, I could not attend any educational institution beyond secondary school. However, I have a passion for technology, so despite the financial constraints, I continued to pursue the necessary knowledge for my future career as a technology magnate.
After leaving secondary school, I attended an ICT academy. Genuine ICT Consult, Apata, Ibadan.
Till date, I continue to develop myself and improve my knowledge through self-education for my future career.
I will continue to learn as long as I live. LIFE itself never stops teaching us.
Hubbies:
Playing video games, watching action movies, playing football with friends. I also love board games like Snookers, Scrabbles and Awale.
Sports of interest:
I like football, basketball, auto racing (car and motorcycle racing) and water games.
Favourite foods: Beans, fried rice, Iyan, Tuwo/Semovita, with melon stew.
Wish list:
I want to meet the special woman of my heart ❤️ and raise our own kids with her π₯πΌ one day.
To have a positive impact on the lives of many people around the world through my innovative technology inventions as a technology magnate.
I wish to visit Cambodia, India, England, China, Canada, Egypt and Australia in the future to taste their food, feel their respective cultural atmosphere and have some great internet-based businesses established there.
Talents and careers:
I am proud to be...
A visual artist, an internet information businessman, a playwright, a Novelist, a poet and an inventor of a ground-breaking technology company.
Leisure:
Travelling, making friends, meeting new people, babysitting and camping.
Turn ons:
Hardworking personality, selflessness, caring, honesty, self-control, self-confidence.
Turn offs:
Dishonesty, waywardness, cheating, rudeness, selfishness, arrogance, snobbery, slander, stealing.
Religion:
Well, I don't believe in any religion (I'm sorry to say this) because I see every religion on earth as an invention of some geniuses who are believed by other people who become direct followers of their respective doctrines to be spiritually connected to the divine God through which people who follow each of these individuals and their doctrines must base their certain daily lives in terms of 'moral standard', 'prayer orientation', 'sexual approaches', 'human interests', 'choice of food, clothes and materials to be chosen'.
But there is one religious doctrine that fascinates me so much that it interests me more than anything else about religion. However, I do not follow it blindly. That's Buddhism! I like it because its principles about the relationship between life and death are extraordinarily accurate. We are not here just this once. We have been here before. We will come here again when we finish this one life. We are immortal. We are spiritual souls and our physical body is just a garment that the souls change with each new existence on this planet, so we are souls and we can never die until eternity. It's only our physical bodies that are mortal. Souls are immortal. So it's only the physical body that dies and decomposes, not the soul. The bottom line is that I don't see Buddhism as a religion, I see it as a divine fact factory!
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Prologue:
If i say, "In the beginning was the story, the story was with Taelolu, and Taelolu himself was the story!" I am honestly not wrong at all.
Tribute to my Father!
First thing first, i use this point to pay the due tribute with due respect to my late Father, Olayinka Lameena Babarinde, who gave me the opportunity to come to this life, through the lasting and enduring love he has for my mother in the first place, and that secret drama they acted on that day on the stage with only a candle π―️ light beside its bed. Papa you are a great pilot and my momma is just a cute angel, the jumbo Jet within which you pilot me to this adventurous battlefield. Dad how i wish you are alive today, so that you may see how old your own hero has grown! I just wish you know the kind of genius you have planted herewithin.
Daddy i really love you so much and i missed you indeed!
rest On my Guru!
When the events that took place before i was born and when i was born was narrated to me by my mother. I really wept.
I wept not only because the story itself possesses the remarkable ability to elicit tears and profoundly resonate with the innermost recesses of individuals' hearts, but because it makes me feel so loved from an unknown benefactor beyond our physical plane, who reckoned that i should stay alive.
Furthermore, the impact of this cruel battle upon my twin sister, Kehinde, which unjustly cut her innocent life short without her own will. Until these days, it makes me week in the bones and i wept bitterly with all my might from my marrow! I missed my twin sister so much.
Tribute to my Twin Sister, Kehinde Babarinde! I really missed you my dearest twin!
And honestly, i really missed my late mother so much! She's really a great legend!
She really fought bravely indeed while i was just a mere infant on this battlefield of life, only for me to survive the cruelest tide of this turbulent ocean.
She was a powerful and fearless mother!
she was a legend!
A fearless amazon!
An energetic shieldmaiden!
She has defied societal norms and have proven that strength and courage know no gender boundaries.
She has left a lasting impact on me as my trailblazer, a strict leader, a teacher and a mother!
She live on in my heart, inspiring me with her countless struggles and the legends of her bravery and skill on the battlefield of life.
She was a "female warrior" who encompasses an individual who embody strength, resilience, and determination.
mother you are a real legend and a perfect example of an heroine!
Tribute to you my Mother, Shakirat Bolatito (nee Ojekunle) Babarinde!
Rest On Momma!!!
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How I was born! - My mother's greatest nightmares of all time!
Please note this:
Throughout this chapter, my mother's words will be in monologue, though she is late, i want her to talk the way she talked in those days. I have tried as much as possible to travel back to those bygone days while she was telling me her story (herstory), so that I can bring the colourless old story back from vintage to its colourful life and make it available to the reading senses of those who care about me, my dear potential family members all over the world, who are my backers, uplifters, accommodators, supporters, improvers, liberators, obligors, donors, benefactors, fans and followers!
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Herstory:
My mother was barely twenty when she gave birth to me and my stillborn twin sister. We were born on 21 February 1979. I am a Nigerian. From the South West region of Nigeria to be precise. We are Yorubas. Ogun State is my home state in Nigeria.
My mother's picture, a year after i was born.
I was born prematurely when my mother, who had experienced some physical and emotional constraints from her stepmother, suddenly fainted on the road on her way home from the market and hit her protruding belly, where my twin sister and I were pregnant, against a stone by the roadside. She was about five months and nineteen days pregnant! In other words, it was about eleven days less than six months.
She was taken to the mission hospital by the people who were there when she fainted. Those were the days when missionaries ran hospitals almost everywhere in Nigeria.
Afterwards, when my mother received the proper medical treatment, she woke up so weak. When she told me her story when I was still a teenager, about fifteen to sixteen years old, she said she was surprised to find herself on a bed in a hospital room when she opened her eyes.
My mother's monologue:
"I remember vividly when I opened my eyes. I saw some nurses and a doctor standing here and there around the bed where I was sleeping".
"I quickly remembered that I was on my way home from the market, where's my shopping bag, what am I doing in hospital? Then I remembered that I felt a load of dizziness in my head as I almost fell to the floor, and that was all."
"A young doctor's soft voice said, "_Hello beautiful lady! How are you and what is your name?" She asked me and I told her my name. She also asked me if I was still feeling dizzy or if I was in any pain. Her questions made me a little worried, something must have happened to me! I looked at the doctor curiously and asked her, "Please, what has happened to me? Have I fainted?! What has happened to my pregnancy? Is everything all right?"
"The doctor, who was writing down our conversation, said gently, "_In fact, you are fine! But we need to know more about you. We don't know you yet, we need to know about you, where your people are and how to find them. We need to get to them as soon as possible," she said, without giving me a single hint to worry about. But as someone who is very intelligent, I sense that something is really wrong! Why do they need to get my people as soon as possible? It means something has happened to me.
"I searched my stomach with both hands, feeling every inch of my abdomen. When my hands reached the right side of my stomach, I felt a crushing pain that almost made me cry out in pain.
"They wrote down the details of how they were going to get my people on a piece of paper. They wrote down the address of the house where my grandmother and I live, the names of my grandmother and two other people they could contact, and their home addresses. That's all I know! I don't know how they would get there!
"The staff at the missionary hospital were very kind to me. They gave me sardines and some bread for lunch. I fell asleep soon after.
My Point of View (POV).
When the doctor woke my mother up, she was surprised to see that her people, including my great-grandmother (my maternal grandfather's mother, i.e. the mother of my mother's father), with whom my mother lived, and two other neighbours, were already at the mission hospital that day. My mother said that although it seemed as if she had just closed her eyes and opened them after eating her dinner, it was after seven o'clock in the evening, and she later learned from the conversation between the missionary doctor and her grandmother that she had been in the hospital for almost ten hours, since about ten o'clock in the morning.
A missionary father, who was the senior doctor in charge, told my mother that the condition of her pregnancy was very complicated, as he had observed through the test he had done on the health of the pregnancy. He said that there were twins in her womb and he discovered that one of the babies seemed to have stopped breathing, which meant that the baby had died while the other was still alive and needed to be rescued as soon as possible. He also told my mother that because of the commotion, the baby that was alive was leaning over the dead baby when my mother hit the stone with her protruding belly. He said it was not clear whether it was a boy or a girl because its genitals were not fully developed. It could only be determined when they were removed.
He said that my mother needed to be treated in another room to confirm an induction of labour, so that the pregnancy would come out on its own, despite the fact that one of its members was dead, without the use of knives and scissors in the operating theatre.
My mother did not agree. She said she burst into tears as she cried convulsively.
My mother's monologue:
"I said as I cried bitterly, don't kill my babies, they're not dead, leave them for me. They will be fine. I remembered talking to the missionary father and a senior doctor that day, the twentieth of February, nineteen seventy-nine (the 20th of February, 1979)".
"The doctor persuaded me to allow them to give me the necessary care so that my health would not be affected and also that the baby, who was still alive, should be rescued as soon as possible so that he could stay alive. So I accepted, not because of my health, but because of my remaining baby who was struggling to stay alive in my belly. I began to feel like a mother. I wanted to breastfeed my baby, I wanted to shower him with my motherly love. Then I was given some food to eat to give me some strength before I accepted the induction. In the midst of my tears, I was induced to help the pregnancy come out of my womb!
"The doctor gave me some hands while she put a kind of tube between my body opening towards the pregnancy, when she finished the induction session, she waited with other nurses and doctors, asking me from time to time how I felt.
"The induction was completed around midnight! They said we had to wait for the birth. From time to time they checked me for various reasons known only to them. At about half past two in the morning, I started to feel some cramps in my stomach! Then the water in my womb broke and I began to have contractions, but with much less pain!
"At that moment I felt like vomiting. The other time I felt the urge to pee! My head started to spin.
"The next thing that happened after the dizziness stopped was that I went into labour and in less than two minutes I gave birth to the first child, we were expecting the second because through the test that the doctor did, he said that his result of the test showed that it was a pair of twins that were in my womb!"
"I gave birth to the second child who was lifeless! Then the placenta, which was attached to two cords that each of the twins shared one by one, came out last!" she explained, while I just listened and imagined what the whole thing looked like that day!
"The first child to come out was a male and that is you, Taelolu!" (my mother liked to call me Taelolu instead of Taiwo).
"The doctor confirmed that your Kehinde was a female. She was already dead, the doctor said after a thorough examination. But everyone was very surprised when the old doctor said that you, Taelolu, were still alive, even though you were stiff and showed no signs of life!"
"You were no bigger than a medium-sized adult lizard that could be used as a baby crib with one hand. That is to say, you were as small as a very small doll!"
- I was told i looked like something in the three pictures below:
"You were quickly cleaned up by a specialist nurse and put into an incubator. In order to survive, you were given oxygen to circulate air around your fragile body system as you could not breathe on your own. your case was really very critical that day!"
The picture below is not my own, i just used it to give you the clear vision about how i probably look like in those days inside the incubator:
"You couldn't be breastfed because you couldn't suckle. You could not suck on a bottle either. You were almost unconscious!"
"All the veins and organs in your body were transparent! It was as if a flexible nylon silk had been used on you instead of flesh! It was hell for me that day. I was disturbed and confused, trembling all over my body."
"It was an arduous task to breastfeed a premature baby. To make you feel as if you were still in your mother's womb, they put you in an incubator and then covered you with a handkerchief-like pad, so soft that you could easily tear it with three fingers of the same hand."
"The incubator has a funnel attached to it, with a long thin tube with a regulator on it to regulate the flow of drops of liquid food as they pass through the thin tube that has been passed through your mouth into your stomach."
"Because you are very premature, you have to be fed through this tube. A liquid with nutrients is fed directly into your fragile vein through this tube."
"Because your body organs were not fully developed, it was very difficult for you to breathe evenly. As a result, you would occasionally stop breathing and pause for about ten to fifteen seconds."
"I had to watch you constantly for signs of respiratory distress and any signs of distress on your face. A cardiorespiratory monitor also monitors your heart rate. The device would give an intermittent alarm if you stopped breathing for a few seconds and I would quickly call the nurse who would quickly attend to you."
"If you don't start breathing again within 15 seconds, the nurse will gently and lightly rub your back, arms or legs with a single gloved finger to stimulate breathing. Most of the time, with this kind of stimulation, you will start to breathe again on your own."
"Once in a while, every two or three days, you would stop breathing, even after stimulation. Your face would be so blue and pale. You would wriggle your body in agony as you struggled to breathe."
"The doctor will give you oxygen through a handheld bag and mask. The doctor will put the mask over your face and use the bag to slowly pump air into your lungs. You will only need a few pumps before you can breathe on your own again.
"Feeding yourself is a big deal! You have to have breast milk through a feeding tube. The doctors will put the tube through your mouth and into your stomach.
"Even the smallest drops of liquid through the tiny funnel tube could be clearly seen as they slowly went down your throat into your bowel! Everything was so transparent!"
"It was a complicated job because although you could not breathe by yourself, you could not feed by yourself. I had to keep an eye on you all the time. When I slept, a nurse usually took care of you instead of me.
"Whenever you started to move your body, it was a sign that something had gone wrong! It could be that you lost your saliva or that your lungs stopped working. It could be that the flow of food through your feeding tube needs to be adjusted by reducing it to your satisfaction".
"It took me about three weeks to feel confident enough to feed you through the tube. I just watch the doctor and nurses do it all the time. They always give me the necessary instructions when they feed you!
"When I have finished feeding you and the tube is closed, I have to take you out of the incubator like the doctor and nurses do. You have to be patted gently on the back until you belch before you are put back into the incubator.
"Whenever I feed you, I have to take you out of the incubator and stroke your back with a gloved finger until you belch. I have to do this by myself, so I have to wash my hands thoroughly with disinfectant, rinse them with sterile water, wipe them with a clean towel and then put gloves on both hands. The nurses watched me closely and guided me through these procedures before I could master them".
"To stroke your back after taking you out of the incubator, I would place you in a sitting position on my right hand while supporting your body with a few fingers, I would begin the stroke as gently as possible and within 1 minute to 5 minutes you would belch."
"At one point in this procedure, I suddenly woke from dozing and saw you gasping for breath, shaking as I called out loudly, alternately calling "Doctor! Nurse!"
"They quickly came to your aid and gave you a needed hand that only they knew how to give."
"I cried bitterly as if you had died. I have lost a daughter, I don't want to lose a son this time. I blamed myself for foolishly beating my stomach against the stone that took my daughter's life. So I decided not to stay awake and not to sleep again! I was very thin, exhausted and worried!"
My father visited my mother in hospital.
"Barely a month after my hospitalisation, I woke up lazily from a long sleep and felt a familiar aura in the ward where I was staying. When I opened my eyes, the familiar smell of a person filled the air, and to my surprise, it was your father."
"He was sitting next to me on the bed, crying."
"I was shocked to see him suddenly, considering the burdens my father had been carrying. Besides, his job as a Nigerian customs officer didn't allow him to travel freely."
"When I saw him, I couldn't help but cry. The affection was still there and I love him very much. But the family pressure, especially from my father, was suffocating."
"It hurt your father to see what had happened, especially with your twin sister. He also regretted the circumstances in which he found me in hospital, despite the constant support of the missionary nurses and doctors. Your father is always a caring man and he brought some food, clothes and other things."
"He was accompanied by two other customs officers who arrived in an official vehicle. He introduced me to his colleagues before spending two hours with me. He left a lot of things for me, including clothes, food, shoes, soap, toothpaste and more."
The missionary father.
"One evening a missionary priest came to the ward where we were, after having spent some time checking the babies from ward to ward."
"He saw me on the bed and my baby inside the incubator. He asked me my name and I told him. Then he looked at you in the incubator for a while, then he sat down on the bed next to me and began to speak in our own Yoruba language, he said in a very low voice,"
("Young lady, do not panic about your child. You are doubting whether he will survive or not. Do not doubt anymore. Your son will not die. Your son will survive. If he wouldn't survive, i wouldn't have said that he would. Look at all the babies in all the wards of this hospital today, there are more than three hundred of them and they are not as sick as your baby, but I tell you this, it will come to pass that ONLY A FEW OF THOSE BABIES WILL SURVIVE BEYOND THE NEXT THREE DAYS! Only your son will be left! Look! Take good care of your son. Your son is a very good soul! He's not an ordinary baby either. He has a great mission on earth. He will grow up to be a great man and a powerful individual. He will serve many nations. He will sit and eat with kings! But always remember, take him away from all your family members and his father's family members! For there are good men and bad men! When he is a teenager, try with all your might to send him abroad, where white men like me live. Your son is also a foreigner in your land. Send him back home. The sooner the better! Take heed!")
"The missionary father told me these great secrets."
"Although the missionary father spoke of many things, I could not remember them all. One of the things he collected from one of his people were five spherical objects. Something that looks so much like the earth, as it is in the pictures below:
but they are smaller than eggs. He gave them to me and said, 'These are the gifts for your child, may the peace of the Lord be upon him.
"To my surprise, the children from the other wards, those who only had jaundice and other minor illnesses, began to die one by one! Even though some of them were not premature, they were up to nine months old! They just have a little sickness! It really made me tremble with fear! The atmosphere at that time was both frightening and terrible!"
"While your case was the most hopeless of all the babies in that mission hospital, all the babies, about three hundred and something, died within the space of four days."
My Grandfather visited the missionary hospital.
"My father finally visited the mission hospital! When he saw me sleeping helplessly on the bed and you in the incubator, no bigger than ever, he said: "Now have you seen what you have brought upon yourself! At the tender age of eighteen, you rushed into motherhood! Look what you have called a baby! Something you could have π« wrapped in a toilet roll and thrown in the dust bin!"
"That very statement made blood run rapidly within my body. I became so angry. Tears fell freely from my eyes. My father abuse me and my baby so much. After a while, he dropped some money on the small table beside my bed before he eventually left without saying goodbye."
"I wept a lot. Some nurses cautioned me that i should limit the way cry for it's getting out of hand."
My mother really tried for me, as my great-grandmother told me. It's obvious. She really went through the fire to keep me alive.
She has forced herself to go beyond the limits of human endurance, she has challenged the fear of her life, she has struggled with procedures, she has taken care of me as a premature baby, she has fed on her own energy day and night! She drinks from her own stream of tears! The only real companion she has, apart from the missionary doctor and the nurses, is her grandmother, Mama Alice Adebanke. That's my great-grandmother!
It's worth noting that the incubator has really been a very important tool throughout my time there. It provides a controlled and protective environment for me as a premature baby. it has some modules that can be regulated such as temperature, humidity and oxygen levels. the incubator really protects me and it actually helped me to grow noticeably and develop in a safe and stable manner as a fragile infant.
Within two and a half months I had grown enough to be taken out of the incubator! I had mastered some of the basic daily routines that a normal baby should master. Like the act of breathing and sucking on my own, like all other babies who have not experienced what it is like to be born prematurely.
My eyes, which I had closed for so long, are now open. My mother told me that she used to move me closer to her breasts, as the nurses told her to do, but I just stood there like a doll, not moving at all. Even when a finger tickled the corner of my mouth, I didn't notice.
But one day, when I had been in the incubator for about ten days, less than two months, my mother took me out. She told me that I had become very strong and so beautiful as a baby, and she was so happy. She said that I had responded so well to the tender care and medical treatments that I had received that I had grown back into my baby self.
She said that with my beautiful face and my fleshy, heavy body, I was beautiful to all who saw me. She said she was excited and felt the urge to play with me. I was so big that she needed two hands to carry me. I had gained weight as a result of the prolonged treatment and loving care of the missionary hospital staff.
This is not my mother's picture, it's just an illustration:
My mother said she tickled the corner of my mouth with her finger as usual to see if I was ready to feed myself, as the hospital staff had instructed her to do. She was so surprised that I moved my mouth towards her finger. She did the same with the other corner of my mouth and I gradually moved my mouth to that side too! She was so excited, shedding tears amidst her warm, gentle smile. She said she quickly alerted the nurses to what she was observing.
"Your baby wants you to feed him your breast milk. He really wants to be breastfed!" One nurse said excitedly.
My mother fed me for the first time! She said she really cried when she fed me her own milk. She said that despite what the missionary father had said, she wasn't sure whether I would live or die.
My Point Of View (POV).
Yes! "Look at what you called a baby! Something you could have π« wrapped in a toilet roll and thrown in the bin!"
Can you imagine that? From a father's mouth to his daughter.
That's the statement of my own maternal grandfather, my own mother's father. I will never forget it in this life. He told my mother in the later in the future that my mother should not have told me about what he said. That was when i told him using a parable, he was shocked. My mother replied that once he (she means her son) didn't die, why won't she!? So that he might know the kind of grandfather he has.
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My childhood!
The picture below is not my own, it is just a representation of what i probably look like:
Nevertheless, the missionaries took care of my mother's and my needs: food, clothes, medicine and everything else. They told my great-grandmother, relatives and neighbours, who brought food at irregular intervals, that they didn't need to bring anything anymore, that they would take care of everything, it was an order from the missionaries above. Each of the nurses and doctors carried me in turn! They played with me as if I were a big doll. They gave me all kinds of gifts, big and small.
Even the people who have patients in the hospital where I was born, those who witnessed my critical genesis, were very happy to see how much I had changed. They gave various gifts to my mother. Some gifts were money, clothes, food and many other things. Some of them confessed that they had told my mother that I was a waste of time as a premature baby because they thought I would not last two days with such a very bad birth condition.
The missionary hospital staff who took care of me, and who had also become friends with my mother, would not allow my mother and I to go home, even though we were supposed to have left the hospital a week ago, having already spent some fifty-two days there!
This is not my mother's diary, it's just an illustration:
They said they were going to miss us so much, especially me, the incredible premature baby! It was a good fifty-nine days in hospital, according to my mother's diary. It was dated by her; 20 April 1979. It was a Friday. She kept many diaries about every single event in her own life, from all the events about how her stepmother made her life miserable, all the story about how she met my father and those closely guarded secrets about her first sexual intimacy with him, how she was afraid of sexual intercourse, her father about her mother, her grandmother, etc and etc. She taped four diaries together, cover to cover. These joined diaries covered the hard timeline of her life as documentaries of the following years in succession: 1976, 1977, 1978 and 1979, the last diary.
The picture below is not my own, it is a representation of what happened exactly.
At that time, my mother told me that if someone held me in their hands, they would have to hold me very tightly, because as a baby, whenever I saw a bright colour around the corner or something really attractive, like the light bulb, colourful posters on the wall, plastic buckets πͺ£ among other things, I would always try to jump towards it. My eyes would usually follow people as they moved around the ward we were in, sometimes smiling as some whitish saliva ran down my babyish mouth.
When it was finally time to leave the Missionary Hospital, some of the nurses, especially Sister Dorcas, my mother's best friend, among others, shed tears passionately. So did my mother. She said she cried uncontrollably. My great-grandmother also wept, and accompanied the emotionally disturbed young ladies in her tears.
We left the hospital on the 24th of April 1979. It was a Tuesday, as recorded on the same page of my mother's diary for 1979.
When we got home, the people who had come to visit the baby and my mother could not believe their eyes! Those who had visited the mission hospital during the cloudy days of my existence. Some of them said that they feared the Almighty because of what they'd learned from my case, that it was God who could decide whether a soul went or stayed.
My Mother had A Strange Dream
My mother used to tell me about a strange dream she had when I was just a crawling kid. In her dream, there were numerous babies, all of them my size, with short arms and legs. The babies were both boys and girls.
"They would dress in white garments, following a traditional African style known as the One-shoulder-wrap or Shoulder-to-Armpit Wrap. Whenever my mother saw them, they would display their vibrant bodies, dancing and singing, creating a long, circular formation of babies," my mother said.
According to my mother, each baby would carry a small container, not larger than a milk tin, on their heads. They formed an unbroken circular chain, stretching from our house to the river of our town, a distance of nearly two and a half kilometers in reality.
While some babies headed to the river with empty containers on their heads, others would return from the river with containers filled with water. They sang as they moved.
Some babies were clearly seen drawing water from the river, one after another in a remarkable chain reaction. Others entered our house and climbed a set of closely spaced steps leading to a water drum. Each baby would pour the water from their tiny container into the same water drum, following one another. Once they emptied their buckets, they would descend the steps on the other side of the drum. This chain continued without interruption.
My mother shared the song that these strange visitors sang in her dream, which was sung in the Yoruba language. I will write down the song now and attempt to translate it later. Below is the song:"
♪♪”αΊΈni Γ r'odΓ² la pα»n mi o! αΊΈni Γ r'odΓ² la pα»n mi!"
♪♪”αΊΈni Γ r'odΓ² la pα»n mi o! αΊΈni Γ r'odΓ² la pα»n mi!"
♪♪”KΓ² Γ¬ tΓ³!"
♪♪”BΓi bΓ‘ ti tΓ³bi tΓ³ kΓ²Γ¬ to!"
♪♪"Γ wa nΓ¬rΓjΓΊ elΓ©dΓΉmarΓ¨!"
♪♪”αΊΈni Γ r'odΓ² la pα»n mi!
That's the repetitive song they chant without any variation.
Here is the translation of the song, although its meaning is cryptic, I will try my best to capture it accurately:
♪♪ "Behold, who goes to the river to fetch water! Behold, who goes to the river to fetch water!"
♪♪ "Behold, who goes to the river to fetch water! Behold, who goes to the river to fetch water!"
♪♪ "Its glory is not shown enough!"
♪♪ "Despite the glory it possesses, it has yet to fully reveal its glory in full!"
♪♪ "We are the stewards of the self-existent being!"
♪♪ "Behold, who goes to the river to fetch water!"
My mother had this same dream repeatedly until I was about a year old, and then the dream stopped occurring.
I began narrating tales when I was just five years old.
I began narrating tales when I was just five years old. I wasn't told. I could really remember very vividly that I started telling stories to just anyone who had the ears to listen. In this present life, I resumed my career as a storyteller when I was barely five years old! I tell all sorts of stories that people find difficult to put together. My mother used to say that, "while someone was listening to a particular story that you were narrating, your story would cross the bridge onto another storyline entirely, that would make the listeners so annoyed because they had been carried away by the first story."
Despite people saying I talk too much, my mother always disagreed with them. Instead, she encouraged me to continue telling stories. As a result, my skills as a storyteller improved rapidly from the age of six years to ten years old. During this time, I honed my ability to captivate audiences and weave intricate narratives that left listeners spellbound.
The root of my mother's problem!
My mother's picture:
The story of my mother's family has always been of great interest to me, perhaps because of its rich history. My mother was born to an illiterate mother - a common occurrence in those days, especially in rural areas. Her mother, my grandmother, suddenly became pregnant for my grandfather and that changed everything.
My grandfather accepted only my mother and left my grandmother alone, which was a shock to her. Her life was completely disrupted.
Little did anyone know that this was just the beginning of the many challenges my mother would face in her life.
My grandfather married another woman who is educated. Her name is Mosunmola. She hates my mother, her stepdaughter, like a maggot. She used to beat my mother for trivial things and because my grandfather had always warned her against such behaviour, but she insisted on beating my mother, my grandfather started beating her too whenever people reported her to my grandfather.
My step-grandmother then went back to her hometown, she collected some voodoo magic which she used to separate my mother and father. One day, my grandfather suddenly called my mother by name: "Bolatito! Look, your presence in this house makes me angry. Just leave."
My mother said she thought he was joking, but if my mother didn't leave, he would beat her up. So my mother started staying with one relative or another from season to season. The level of education she achieved in life as a teacher was only the result of her own hard work.
You will read more about me in the future in my Autobiography that will tell the whole story from A to Z.
My primary school days
My mother, who was a teacher, was also my primary one teacher. She was very strict with me. If I got a warning, she would give me two strokes of the cane instead of the single stroke she gave other pupils.
She also gave me extra lessons when we were at home or during holidays.
It was only after I left primary school that I realised the extent of her efforts to mould me into a bright and talented child during those days.
MY SECONDARY SCHOOL DAYS
I am a very handsome person. I'm really very sweet, brilliant and talented. The first woman to confirm this when I was still a teenager was my mother. She said, "Oh! Taelolu, you really look like me and you're very handsome," and many women confirmed this during and after my secondary school days. Girls and ladies would come up to me and tell me directly that I'm very attractive. Some of my friends also told me about my looks, saying that girls prefer me to other boys.
Although girls always chase me, I had the first date of my life when I was in Junior Secondary School three (JSS3). Her name was Damilola. She's beautiful, fair-skinned and blushes a lot. I like her for two reasons, one is that she is very brilliant like me. Secondly, she's beautiful and her skin is very light.
We start with eye contacts. I was the one who started looking at her. I thought she didn't know that I always looked at her in secret, but on one of those occasions I saw her looking at me when I looked in her direction. She smiled and blushed as she looked the other way. From that moment on, we looked each other in the face, whether we were in the classroom, the playground or whatever.
I finally touched her playfully from the side one day when we were gathered at the school assembly. She quickly turned to look at the person, only to see me. She gently turned back to her original position. I told her my name and she told me her name was Damilola.
When you love a girl, her name sounds angelic. It's not that I've never heard the name before, but because I like this girl so much, the name quickly becomes so special that it keeps ringing in my ears. Echoing in the fence of my head, intoxicating my brain.
For the first time in my life I know what real love is. An undiluted love. An unconditional love. A love that is not because one of us wants to have sex. Love just for love's sake. Although she is beautiful, tall and her skin is quite firm.
That was not the main reason I liked them. It was just soul seeing soul. It was just that we have to meet again in this life, just to travel together for a short time. We are not meant to travel a very long distance together or to marry each other.
We had a life together in one of the previous lives, as I later understood during my spiritual unfoldment. I met her in JSS 3 and we dated until we entered Senior Secondary School two before we left because she said she hates the way other girls chase me around, even the girls who are older than me. One thing about me in life is that I have discovered that older girls like to go out with me so much. When I was in Senior Secondary School Two, students in Senior Secondary School Three showed interest in me.
I will tell you about them in my hardback autobiography in the future.
Whenever it is examination time, you will see many students eating the tips of their pens as if their grade would depend on whose pen tip was made into a brush.
Because I pitied my classmates for the way they always looked dejected during exam time, I usually feed the correct answers to the classmates around me during the exam. I would write the answer and give it to those who I knew could write good English, with my instructions at the top of the sheet saying: "Write it in your own English grammar so that you don't fail. Also put the answers next to each other so that your answers are unique."
That's when the exam is theoretical. What makes me so brilliant is that, since JSS 1, I don't like the way other students make noise in the classroom when the teacher is teaching us. Besides, I didn't understand what the teachers were teaching us.
So I start studying on my own whenever I come home, using only my textbooks and the piles of textbooks my mother has as remnants of her school days. I don't write notes. I study textbooks. Instead of writing school notes, I use the grace to write dramas, novels or poems, or to draw. Why should I rewrite what has already been written in the textbook when I can use the time to pour out my talents?
Although I pass their subjects very well, some teachers do not know me as one of their students during my two terms in JSS. They wonder who I could be. Where is the student who passed his subjects but didn't show his face in the classroom, only during the exams? This is because I hardly ever stay in the classroom. When I was not telling stories to my classmates, I was absent from school, helping my mother on the farm, while she came to see me after work. She was a teacher as well as a farmer. She used the money from the farm to replace her inadequate salary. She planted a lot of melon, cassava, cocoyam and maize. In fact, she was the trailblazer who opened my eyes to the importance of agriculture in human life.
The teachers called me into the staff room for an interview. They asked me a lot of questions. One teacher asked me how I managed to get excellent marks if I didn't write any notes. I replied to his question that I write down every topic that we take under each subject from my classmates and write it under the divided section on a notebook which I use to write down the topics of each subject that was taken in class during my absence, then I study them in their respective textbook very carefully at my own pace when I come back home.
One teacher said, "So you use one notebook for all eight subjects?" I said, "Yes!"
The teacher then said, "Amazing! So, while other students were carrying around their loads of textbooks and notebooks, you just fold up a notebook in your bag as a reference to study at home. You end up passing those subjects with excellent grades, while the book-bearers fail miserably. So it's better to read the textbooks than to write notes in the notebooks!"
The fact that the teachers were seeing me for the first time, even though they had been looking for me for a while, made them see me as something that I didn't really see as a big deal. This caused a lot of students to crowd around the staff room, curious to know why those teachers had put me in the middle.
My favourite subjects are:
Mathematics,
English language,
Government,
Economics,
Commerce,
Literature-in-English,
Yoruba language,
In short, my time at secondary school was a typical scenario in itself. Full of many poignant and nostalgic moments.
I am the best african guy amongst the best!
I am the finest African guy because as a youth, while my peers were venturing into fraud as a way of making a living, I took the opposite direction and found a way out to see fraud as the evil that plagues Nigerian youths in the form of a trendy solution to the daunting challenges of the ever collapsing economy. Despite the fact that I was also struggling to earn at least one or two meals a day, I was never moved in those early days to see internet fraud as an epidemic disease affecting the youths in the country. This is who I am. This is how I was made. That's how I was wired.
I am the best African as an individual who really hates all sorts of bad things right from the start as a youth! My brain always warns me when something is wrong with a certain trend.
For example; going back to the year twenty-one (2001), I was barely twenty-two years old then, I could vividly remember how all my peers were venturing into internet scams in those days! Back then, the Internet was like a new dawn, a phantom from an unknown source that suddenly burst into existence. It was like a messiah sent by God to those young people who saw it as a channel to exploit innocent people all over the world.
A time when Google was just a search engine and Yahoo Mail and Hotmail were the only email services that dominated the internet. A time when the internet was not as heavy as it is today.
PayPal worked perfectly in Nigeria without any restrictions. But because of the misuse of the internet and all it has to offer by Nigerian youths who think it is normal, the internet started working against Nigerians in a negative way. PayPal became unavailable in Nigeria. ebay rejected Nigerians on its platform as well as all other newly established internet businesses from different parts of the world.
All the while, Nigerian youths are unwittingly engaging in the illegal act of internet fraudulent activities of all kinds like fake dating, fake payment, fake everything in everything, thereby unwittingly joining hands with their like minded youths all over the world to make the internet, which is supposed to be a paradise of success for mankind, a "hell".
My own concern, as other young people plagued the internet with their scams, brought me into contact with the challenging responsibility of reversing irrelevance!
A stream of questions began to flow through my brain! Questions that are very difficult to answer because they require a great deal of research and study, accompanied by the collection of effective information and data.
The first question is: What makes people cheat? This is the root of the whole problem to be solved. It is like asking, "What caused this burning fire?" Then investigate the source, put it out. Then build a castle of security around it, so that you can create an arsenal of preventive applications against its future occurrence.
This is how I start researching how to invent a great technology company that would technically extinguish Internet fraud as an illegal economic refuge and its unexplored source.
During the twenty-four years of rigorous hard work, stacking modules and databases in conjunction with a number of cleverly designed algorithms, I am proud and bold to say with confidence that in the near future the whole world will welcome a system that will revolutionise the way we use the Internet to do different types of business, provide different types of services, supply numerous on-demand goods as well as earn consistent, reliable income from almost anywhere in the world.
Today I am here with "InnoTecn Technology Galaxy - iTG! It is the result of my personal passion to make people smile with the sweet and soothing ecstatic tears of appreciation running their trackless paths down the individual's cheek. This is the result of the earliest stage of my life as a youth who detests fraud like poison!
I really hate it when I see young people busily running their fingers over computer keyboards, typing the scam ideas in their heads into the Internet, only to see the innocent on the other end of the screen shed some bitter and heartbroken tears while the scammers dance to their own tunes of self-destruction.
The funniest part is that the situation can sometimes go the way of a 23 year old Nigerian scammer scamming a 13 year old victim in a developed country. The stupid 23 year old will still be dancing! What an unintelligent idiot!?
To make matters worse, a widow in a developed country might find herself in a lot of debt because she has to pay the rent, feed herself and the children, buy some medicine, pay some bills, pay some school fees, repair some parts of the house and so on and so forth. So she decided to sell her jewellery, her unwanted mobile phone, her only laptop and of course something more valuable than all of the above. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, she fell into the hands of a ruthless swindler. Despite having carefully read the woman's item profile on the online shop, the fraudster went the extra mile to trick the woman. As a result of the victim's shock, she poisoned herself and died of hopelessness.
I pity those who feed on the souls of their brothers and sisters just because they want to live; their karma will be more brutal than brutality itself. Their wines will be as sour as the juice of bitter leaves.
As of today, I mean 2024, many of these impostors who are the same age as me are rotting in prison under the grip of the Nigerian government. The Nigerian government is not taking it easy with them at all. The government's organisation that deals with this crime, the EFCC, is really after them and has all its eyes on the fraudsters day and night. So many of them are arrested on a daily basis. Some of them have started their long jail terms right from December 2023! Some of them are serving their sentences in a prison abroad.
It is definitely a true statement by William Shakespeare that "The evil that men do lives after them" as we can see in William Shakespeare's play Julius Caesar. It is spoken by Mark Antony in Act 3, Scene 2, during Caesar's funeral oration.
I am an African genius!
I, an African genius, made my own way. While others were wondering how to steal honey from a shop, I was busy turning a forest into an apiary. Now I could feel the buzz of success all around me as I longed to reap the sweet rewards of my unique thinking!
As an African genius, I have a wired mind that seeks logic in the midst of chaos. Failure is not an end, it's a stepping stone to success. With each disappointment, I pick up the pieces, recalibrate my strategy and emerge stronger than ever. My resilience knows no bounds, for I see potential where others see defeat!
In the realm of chasing dreams, while some chased fleeting romances, I chased knowledge of the vastness of the cosmos. Brick by brick, I gathered the foundation of wisdom to build the extraordinary InnoTech Technology Galaxy iTG. Built from the ground up, it's a testament to my relentless quest for innovation!
Life's journey has led me to create a business ecosystem like no other - InnoTech Technology Galaxy, better known as iTG. It's not just groundbreaking, it's life-changing! Prepare to be amazed as this versatile invention emerges from the depths of my imagination, ready to change the world with its limitless potential.
Through my life's journey I have developed a very versatile and life changing "Economic Operating Ecosystem - (EOE)" Prepare yourself for the grand unveiling of iTG, soon to leave the world in awe!
HOW DIFFICULT IS IT FOR A YOUNG ENTREPRENEUR LIKE ME TO GET FINANCIAL SUPPORT IN THIS EVER-DECLINING ECONOMY?
Here in Nigeria, the economy is very discouraging. It is very difficult for a budding entrepreneur like me to get any kind of financial support in this ever-declining economy. There are millions of young people who are extraordinarily talented in their respective fields, but their productivity is buried in the mud of the ever-melting economy.
As a result, many of these talented individuals find themselves on undesirable paths such as aimless wandering, drug abusing lifestyles, engaging in fraud and internet scams, getting involved in money rituals, resorting to prostitution or sex work, or even turning to a life of crime as armed robbers and so on. Only a fortunate few are able to fulfil their aspirations, while the majority struggle to make ends meet. It is disheartening to see the kind of lives these young people lead.
All my life I have been the kind of person who despises stooping so low just to ask for a little help. This attitude of mine has taught me a valuable lesson, for it has cost me a considerable amount of precious time, as you can see. Who knows, if I had taken the step I am taking now to raise awareness ten years ago, this remarkable dream of mine might have been a success long ago. However, I believe that saying the words "please help me" would make me appear weak, when in fact it is nothing short of foolish to entertain such a silly thought. I rely on a more logical approach to hustle and gather the necessary seed capital for my greatest aspiration, forgetting that sometimes your mission can be heavier than what your shoulders can bear.
MY HUSTLE IS IN THE EXTREME PAST!
It's not that I sat around doing nothing during all those wasted days. Not at all. In fact, I was living a restless and unpeaceful life. I filled my time with various jobs, moving from one factory to another as a factory worker, hoping that if I could save some money, I could find a way to leave Nigeria. Unfortunately, this plan didn't work out because the wages paid by these factories for a month's work could barely cover my food costs for two weeks, let alone my transport costs. It didn't take long for my debts to pile up, not to mention the threat of eviction for unpaid rent.
You may click on this link to check their website.
Below is the remaining evidence that i have worked with the company. Let me show you the jacket that was given to by the max company during those rough days.
I also worked for almost three years as a commercial motorcyclist for a transport company called "MAX - last mile." What I discovered is that no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I push myself, the effects of the economy I am struggling under will always work against my success in every way. It is silently killing me and my dreams.
I have really struggled in life, but all my efforts seem to be in vain.
CHARCOAL PRODUCTION.
To give you a clear idea of what the charcoal making process is really like, here's a video clip that will show you the details. The clip is not my own, I am just using it as a representation of my experience in this field:
Sometimes in November: Forest officials raided my charcoal production field!
In November 2017, local authorities known as "forest officers" raided the field where my colleagues and I were diligently working. They confiscated all the loads of charcoal bags I had produced, including all our rudimentary tools, including shovels, cutlasses, hoes, rakes and water containers, all of which I had struggled to buy.
They even confiscated all my personal belongings on the grounds that I ran the business without the proper paperwork. At 38 years old, I have been reduced to nothing, leaving me humiliated and emotionally drained. I feel overwhelmed by the harsh and unfair pressure, to the point where I am contemplating suicide. Despite my past experiences, I have tried various legitimate online businesses such as digital marketing, clickbank content creation, drop shipping, affiliate marketing and writing Amazon e-books. However, being a Nigerian has denied me many opportunities to pursue these ventures.
One time in 2013: I visited several banks in Nigeria!
Once upon a time in 2013, I visited several banks in Nigeria, believing that they would be eager to support my groundbreaking technological invention. However, my experience was quite the opposite. I felt like I was talking to trees when I tried to explain the project to the bank managers. Instead of showing interest, they bombarded me with questions. I remember one manager from First Bank of Nigeria asking, "If you have such big projects in your hands, why are you still poor and in need of money?" It was quite an amusing and embarrassing moment for me. Why do people judge me by my poor appearance? Why don't people see me from the inside? My lack of physical banknotes does not necessarily mean that I am poor. My lack of physical banknotes has nothing to do with my mental abilities and potentials; it only indicates that I simply need the necessary start-up capital. I need backers. I need investors and shareholders. For me, what makes you poor is actually the lack of creativity and a single spark of talent.
THE PRESENT DAY: the 04th of April, year 2024.
Below are my most recent pictures. They're taken on the fourth of April, year 2024.
As of today, the 4th of April, year 2024, I find myself living in a community where the quality of life falls far short of even the most basic expectations. I am unable to afford a single meal due to the current poor state of the country's economy. I rely on the generosity of my childhood friend, ΓjΓ yΓ, who graciously allows me to eat a few meals.
- - - The video of the place - - -
Like me, he is single and unmarried, a fate shared by millions of young people across Nigeria. My health is rapidly deteriorating as I struggle to get food and medicine. It really pains me to find myself in this condition as a Nigerian, oppressed by an economy that is greedily eating away at our entire future like an army of termites. I find myself on the technologically underdeveloped side of the world, where no one understands what I have to offer the whole world.
I am burdened with a great empire of innovation by the very nature that blessed me with the intelligence that I have, but by the same nature I am placed on the wrong side of the earth, in an environment where I can only dream without ever seeing those dreams come to fruition.
Nigeria is undeniably blessed as a nation, rich in natural resources and home to talented, courageous, bold and beautiful people. However, our greatest obstacle lies within our government, a swarm of parasites plaguing our country. I have always prided myself on being self-sufficient and resilient, never wanting to ask for help or appear weak. However, I have come to realise that my dreams are fading as my circumstances deteriorate.
My greatest fear is that...
"Graveyards πͺ¦πͺ¦πͺ¦πͺ¦ are the richest places on earth, for countless geniuses have been laid to rest without fulfilling their wildest dreams".
"In the dream world, where fantastic battles unfold, even the mightiest hero cannot triumph alone."
I've come to realise that even the most fated, victorious and powerful hero cannot win the greatest battle alone, even if he dares to do so in a dream world. I humbly ask for help from those who can feel the heaviness of my saddest music. I openly call for help. Despite my strength in fighting this harsh lifestyle, I have shed many tears and pitied myself from the depths of my heart. Although I am penniless in terms of banknotes, I am rich in terms of the brainchild that I have been nurturing for the past twenty-three years. Today I am potentially the richest man in the world, based on the ingenious, technologically innovative inventions that are secretly secured right here in my documents, but paradoxically I have an empty pocket.
Not having a single banknote doesn't mean you're poor, but not having creative ideas that can be turned into money really does. That is what makes me different. The fact that I don't have one of those printed paper notes in the bank doesn't make me a poor pauper. Rather, it means that I have to create an awareness of myself as a fortune lurking under the earth here in Africa, gradually rusting through the tongue of suffering. I am a golden human resource waiting to be discovered by someone out there.
That is all about my Auto Bio Data. Thank you for reading through and I really appreciate your time. I really want you to know me better and that's why i created this page, "my Auto Bio Data." I believe that, before you can befriend with a person, you need to know the person ins and outs.
If you have any comments, questions or would like to speak to me directly via voice or video call or chat, please visit my contact page on the same blog!
Once again, thank you a million times.
Abraham Taelolu Maximos Babarinde.
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