Chidimma Log

15/04/2026

EPISODE 1: THE PHONE I FOUND UNDER THE KEKE SEAT
That Tuesday evening, I was coming back from Wuse after a stressful day.
Abuja traffic had already dealt with my patience, so when I finally entered a keke, I just wanted to reach home and sleep.
Inside the keke were three of us.
A woman in front, one guy beside me, and me at the edge holding my bag tightly because Abuja no dey carry last.
When I got to my junction, I paid and came down.
As the keke zoomed off, I heard something hit my foot.
I looked down.
It was a phone.
A fine iPhone with a glitter case.
For a second, I looked left and right to see if anybody noticed.
Nobody.
The keke had already turned the corner.
I picked it up quickly and slipped it into my bag.
My heart was racing.
On one side, I was thinking, “This can change my week.”
On the other side, my conscience was whispering, “What if the owner needs it badly?”
When I got home, I brought it out and pressed the screen.
Locked.
But before I could even think, it started ringing.
“MUMMY ❤️”
I froze.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
I stared at the phone in my hand, wondering whether to pick it or ignore it.
After the third ring, I answered.
A little girl’s voice came from the other side.
“Mummy, where are you? Daddy said your phone is off and he’s angry…”
My chest tightened.
Before I could even explain, I heard a man’s voice in the background shouting:
“Tell her to come home now!”
The little girl whispered:
“Please, don’t tell daddy I used your phone to call. He said if mummy doesn’t come back tonight, he’ll leave.”
I sat down slowly on my bed.
This was no longer just a lost phone.
Something bigger was happening.
And somehow, I was now inside their family problem.
Just then, someone knocked loudly on my door.
Three hard knocks.
I wasn’t expecting anybody.
Then a male voice from outside said:
“I know the phone is with you. Open the door.”
TO BE CONTINUED… 😳🔥
Episode 2: Who tracked the phone to my house, and why did he sound angry?

14/04/2026

THE DAY I BORROWED TROUBLE FOR ₦500
That morning, I woke up with only ₦500 in my account and big hunger in my stomach.
I told myself, “Patience, be strong. This money must last till tomorrow.”
As I was still giving myself motivational speech, my neighbor, Chioma, knocked on my door.
“Please, do you have rice? Just small. My gas finished and my brother is coming.”
I looked at the ceiling first because I knew heaven was testing me.
I gave her my last cup of rice.
Two hours later, hunger started pressing my neck like village people.
I checked my account again—still ₦500.
So I decided to buy akara and pap with it. As I stepped outside, I saw one small boy crying near the junction.
“Aunty, please, my mummy said I should buy bread but I lost the money.”
My village training no gree me ignore am.
I dipped hand into my purse and gave him ₦300.
Now I was left with ₦200 and hunger was doing concert in my stomach.
I managed to buy gala and pure water, then headed home like a suffering champion.
Just as I reached my compound, Chioma rushed out excitedly.
“Patience! My brother came with foodstuff from the village. He brought rice, beans, yam, chicken and even groundnut oil. Come and carry your own share!”
My eyes nearly shifted.
She handed me one nylon bag full of food that looked like Christmas package.
I just stood there smiling like someone that won bet.
That night, as I was eating hot rice and chicken, I remembered the ₦300 I gave the boy.
The next morning, I saw him again.
This time, he was buying biscuits and Fanta.
I called him.
“Where did you see money?”
He smiled and said,
“Aunty, after you gave me money, my mummy found the one I lost.”
I just looked at him.
So this small boy used my last money to upgrade his lifestyle.
I laughed so hard that even my hunger respected me.
Since that day, I learned one thing:
Sometimes kindness pays back immediately… and sometimes it sponsors somebody else’s enjoyment first. 😂

12/04/2026

12/04/2026

THE BOY THE THIEVES USED
Everyone in our street knew little Emeka as the “errand boy.”
He was just 13, slim, quiet, and always running around with one nylon bag or the other. If Mama Nkechi needed tomatoes from the junction, she called Emeka. If old Papa Sola wanted his slippers repaired, it was Emeka.
Nobody ever suspected anything.
One Tuesday evening, NEPA took light as usual, and darkness swallowed the whole compound. People were outside fanning themselves and complaining about heat. Emeka was moving around too, pretending to play football with other boys.
Around midnight, shouting suddenly filled the street.
“Thief! Thief!”
People rushed out with torches and sticks. It was Mama Joy’s room that got robbed. Her phone, wrapper money, and even the gold earrings she kept inside a cup were gone.
The whole street was confused because the gate was locked from inside. How did the thieves enter?
The next morning, something strange happened.
One of the women said she saw Emeka near Mama Joy’s window earlier that night. At first everyone defended him.
“Emeka? That small innocent boy? Impossible!”
But as the elders questioned him, the boy started shaking. Tears gathered in his eyes.
Finally, he confessed.
A group of older boys from the next street had been using him for weeks. Because nobody suspected a child, they sent him during the day to check which rooms had money, phones, or new items. At night, he would quietly leave the back door unbolted.
That was how the thieves entered.
The saddest part was when Emeka said they usually gave him only ₦500 and biscuits for every house they robbed.
The entire compound went silent.
His mother broke down crying. She kept saying,
“Na hunger and bad friends spoil this boy.”
That day, many people realized something painful—sometimes thieves don’t always come from outside. Sometimes they start from the innocent faces we trust every day.

11/04/2026

THE ₦2,000 I BORROWED THAT RUINED MY DAY 😭💔
That morning, I was rushing to the market when my phone buzzed.
It was my neighbor, Sandra.
“Please, do you have ₦2,000? I just need to quickly complete transport money. I’ll send it back this afternoon.”
Because it sounded urgent, and Sandra had always been nice to me, I transferred the money immediately.
She even replied with plenty prayers.
“God bless you, sis. Before 3pm, you’ll get it back.”
I smiled and forgot about it.
By afternoon, I was stranded.
The same money I gave her was the exact money I needed to buy data for a small online job someone sent me.
I messaged her gently.
“Sandra, please I need that ₦2,000 now.”
No reply.
I called.
Her line rang once and went off.
I called again.
Switched off.
That was when my heart started beating fast.
Evening came, still nothing.
Then around 8pm, I heard loud laughter outside.
I peeped through my window.
Sandra was outside with two girls, holding a takeaway pack and a bottle of malt, laughing like someone that just got salary.
My exact ₦2,000 was inside that takeaway.
I was angry, but I kept quiet.
The next morning, she knocked on my door again.
“Sis please, do you have ₦1,500? I want to buy gas. I’ll add it to the ₦2,000.”
I just looked at her and smiled.
Then I said,
“The ₦2,000 you borrowed is still cooking your food outside.”
The way she froze ehn 😂
Since that day, anytime she sees me, she starts greeting from afar.

10/04/2026

THE DAY I FOUND OUT MY BOYFRIEND IMPREGNATED MY BEST FRIEND 😭💔
I still remember that Saturday morning like it happened yesterday.
My best friend, Amara, came to my house looking somehow. No makeup, red eyes, and she kept pressing her phone like someone wanted to die inside it.
“Patience, I need to tell you something,” she said.
I laughed and told her, “Hope say no be another man wahala? Sit down first make I boil Indomie.”
She didn’t laugh.
That was when my heart shifted.
Amara and I had been friends for five years. She knew everything about me—my secrets, my fears, and especially how much I loved my boyfriend, Ken.
Ken and I had dated for almost two years. Everyone already called him my husband. He visited my family, ate my mother’s soup, even helped my younger brother pay school fees once.
So when Amara started crying, the last thing on my mind was him.
“Patience… I’m pregnant.”
I screamed in excitement first.
“Ehhh! For who? Why are you crying? Is it not good news?”
She looked at me, lips shaking.
Then she said the words that broke me.
“It’s Ken’s.”
For a few seconds, the room went silent.
Even the spoon I was using to stir the noodles dropped from my hand.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because my brain refused to accept it.
“My Ken? MY Ken?” I asked.
She nodded, crying harder.
She said it happened the night of my birthday after-party. I had gone inside to sleep because I was tired, and Ken offered to help her get a bike home.
That bike never happened.
Instead, he took her to a lodge.
I felt like the ground should open and swallow all three of us.
I picked my phone and called Ken immediately.
The fool picked on first ring.
“Baby, good morning—”
“Did you sleep with Amara?” I shouted.
Silence.
That silence answered everything.
Then he had the audacity to say, “It was a mistake.”
A mistake?
I nearly fainted.
So all those times she came to gist with me, she was carrying my boyfriend’s child inside her?
I looked at Amara, and for the first time, she looked like a stranger.
The pain was not even from Ken.
Men can disappoint.
But your best friend? The same girl that wore my clothes, slept on my bed, and called my mother “mummy”?
That one cut deeper than knife.
I didn’t shout.
I didn’t slap her.
I just opened my door and said, “Both of you deserve each other. Please leave my life.”
She left crying.
Ken came later that evening, kneeling outside my gate like Nigerian film actor.
I didn’t open.
Three months later, I heard Amara gave birth to twins.
And guess what?
Ken ran away when responsibility started.
Last week, she messaged me:
“I’m sorry. I lost a true friend because of temporary feelings.”
I read it, sighed, and dropped my phone.
Some betrayals don’t need revenge.
Life handles them better.

10/04/2026

I woke up that morning in Benin feeling like a queen.
No light, no data, no money… but confidence full ground 😭
I told myself,
“Today, I will not touch garri. I’m a big girl. I deserve better.”
So I dressed up fine, wore my best slippers, and stepped outside with the kind of confidence that makes people think you have dollars in your account.
On my way, I saw one food vendor frying akara.
The smell hit me.
I turned my face like I didn’t care.
Inside my mind:
“Patience, behave yourself. We are not poor, we are just waiting for alert.”
I passed.
Ten minutes later, hunger started doing choo choo train in my stomach.
I entered one small boutique pretending I wanted to price clothes, but the truth was I only entered because they had AC and I wanted to distract myself from hunger.
The sales girl brought one fine gown and said,
“Madam, this one will fit you well.”
I checked the price tag.
₦18,500.
I smiled and said,
“I like to go home and think before buying quality things.”
As I stepped out, my stomach made one loud gwoooorrrp sound.
The same akara woman looked at me and said,
“Sister, just buy two. Pride no dey fill belle.”
Omo, that sentence pierced my soul 😭😂
I went there with packaging.
“Madam, give me ₦200 akara and bread.”
She gave me extra one and said,
“For your pride.”
I laughed so hard I nearly choked.
That was the day I learned that forming big girl on an empty stomach is a dangerous lifestyle.
Till today, anytime I pass that woman’s stand, she greets me with:
“My quality customer!” 😭😂

09/04/2026

Yesterday evening, I was walking back from the shop when I saw my crush standing by the roadside with her friend.
My heart started beating like generator wey just get fuel.
I no wan look broke, so I straightened my shirt, adjusted my slippers like say na designer shoe, and walked past them with confidence.
As I reached where they were standing, she smiled and said,
“Hi, how are you?”
Omo, my voice changed immediately.
I said, “I’m good, just coming back from a quick errand.”
Meanwhile the “quick errand” na to go buy ₦100 Maggi and sachet pepper 😭😂
To impress her, I brought out my phone sharply like person wey get plenty alerts.
That was when my village people decide to disgrace me.
The phone slipped from my hand.
Not just slipped.
It hit the floor, bounced twice, and the back cover, battery, and SIM card scattered in three different directions.
Her friend burst into laughter immediately.
I quickly bent down to pick the pieces, still trying to maintain small steeze.
I said,
“This phone eh, I just want to change it. I don tire for am.”
Before I could finish the sentence, one small boy from nowhere shouted,
“Aunty, no mind am! Na every week e dey say e wan change this same phone!” 😭😂
I froze.
The girl looked at me, then at the phone parts in my hand, and started laughing too.
To make matters worse, as I was trying to put the battery back, the phone powered on by itself and the first thing it said loudly was:
“Your account balance is ₦11.42.”
Omo.
I just stood there like statue.
Even the breeze was laughing at me.
I quietly put the phone in my pocket and said,
“Okay, let me be going before it gets late.”
As I was leaving, I heard my crush tell her friend,
“At least he’s funny.”
That was the only thing that saved me from disappearing into the gutter 😂
Till now, anytime I see her, I remember the day my phone exposed my financial level in public 😭😂

09/04/2026

what did you see

09/04/2026

Can someone tell me how to make a billion before December? 😩💸 Drop your honest ideas 👇

09/04/2026

Amara was the kind of girl who always smiled, even when life was showing her pepper.
One hot afternoon in Lagos, she stood in front of a small food shop, checking her purse for the third time. Empty.
Her stomach growled loudly.
“Aunty, abeg give me one plate of rice. I’ll pay tomorrow,” she said softly.
The food seller looked at her and shook her head. “My sister, na so everybody dey talk.”
Just as Amara turned to leave in embarrassment, a young bike rider parked nearby.
“Madam, how much be the food?” he asked.
“₦2,000,” the woman replied.
The rider brought out the money and paid.
Amara turned, surprised. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll pay you back.”
The guy smiled. “No problem. Just eat.”
Before she could even ask his name properly, he zoomed off.
For the next two weeks, Amara kept looking for the bike rider around that street. Nothing.
Then one rainy evening, while returning from a job interview, she saw a crowd gathered near the roadside.
The same bike rider had fallen from his bike after trying to avoid a reckless bus.
People stood there watching, but nobody moved.
Amara didn’t think twice.
She rushed him to the hospital with the little transport money she had left.
When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at her and smiled weakly.
“You?”
She nodded. “Yes… the ₦2,000 rice girl.”
He laughed despite the pain.
Three days later, his elder brother came to thank her. He happened to be the manager of the company where Amara had just done her interview.
He was shocked when he heard how she saved his brother.
The next morning, Amara got a call.
“Congratulations, you got the job.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Sometimes, the little kindness people show us comes back in ways we never expect.

Moral lesson: Never look down on small acts of kindness. What goes around truly comes around.

07/04/2026

The Boy Who Borrowed a Phone
In a small street in Lagos, there was a boy named Tobi who was known for always smiling, even when life was hard.
Every evening, he would sit in front of Mama Nkechi’s shop pretending to charge a phone. But the truth was… the phone wasn’t even his.
It belonged to his friend, Emeka.
Tobi had been secretly borrowing Emeka’s old Android phone every night just to chat with a girl named Ada, a girl he had met in a Facebook comment section. Ada was funny, caring, and always made him forget his struggles.
For three months, Tobi and Ada chatted every night. She believed he was a successful phone repairer because that was what he told her.
One day, Ada said,
“I’m coming to Lagos tomorrow. I want to finally see you.”
Tobi’s heart almost stopped.
He had no shop. No business. Not even the phone he used to chat her.
That night he couldn’t sleep. He kept turning on the mat, thinking of what to do.
The next morning, he borrowed a toolbox from a neighbor and sat under a mango tree near the junction, pretending to repair a radio.
Soon, a shiny car stopped in front of him.
A beautiful lady stepped out.
“Ada?” he asked.
She smiled. “Tobi?”
Before he could say anything, an old woman rushed out from the crowd holding a dead phone.
“My son, can you help me fix this? I need to call my daughter in Abuja.”
Tobi froze.
Sweat covered his face.
Ada looked at him, then at the woman.
“Tobi, you said you repair phones,” she said softly.
For a moment, he wanted to run.
But instead, he took the phone, opened the back, removed the battery, cleaned the rust around the contact with a small blade from the toolbox, and fixed it back.
The phone came on instantly.
The woman shouted in joy. People gathered around. Another person brought a phone. Then another.
Before sunset, Tobi had made more money than he had seen in months.
Ada looked at him and laughed. “So… you actually told a lie that pushed you into your real destiny.”
Tobi smiled, half embarrassed, half amazed.
That little fake setup under the mango tree became his real repair stand.
Six months later, he opened a small shop with a bold signboard:
TOBI TECH WORLD — WE BRING DEAD PHONES BACK TO LIFE
And every time Ada visited, she would laugh and say,
“Thank God I came that day, or you for still dey borrow phone till now.”