My uncle Ozumee was a real man indeed.

All his four wives respected him as a god even though he was not a wealthy man. He was well endowed with a very tensile rope and could swing it well.

Ozuomee’s wives beamed happiness only found in women whose husbands could make to sing audibly or inaudibly from the universal orgasmic hymn book.

This sage of an uncle would tell his friends and his male young relations that the control of a woman starts from the bed and that a sexually satisfied woman would stomach whatever other hardships she experiences in her husband’s house including physical abuse.

My lecturers, Dr. Uneze Nweze, Dr. Nwodo and Prof. Okafor of Faculty of Biological Sciences in University of Nigeria, Nsukka stressed the reasons why a man should be a real man and a good choirmaster.

Thank God I also borrowed courses that taught me Sex Biochemistry and Physiology, from where I learnt the erogenous zones of male and female mammals and how to turn them into guitars and drums with my drum stick to produce sweet melodies for the drummer and the she-drum.

I was taught never to rush a woman but to first explore, survey and determine the locations of her soft spots or change-over buttons to enable me apply the right efforts with reverberating responses and to ask my partner how best she wants to be serviced.

With many teaching practices and full time play, I have been able to bring happiness to my home to the glory of God.

Also,I thank Jehovah that gave me the wisdom, the discipline and the knack to ask questions from the master which enriched me as I was gathering my cognate experience.

Even with my science-aided understanding of what to do and when to do it, I was so confident that I was good and solid until I came to Lagos and shared a compound with an Owerri man who just returned from Paris, the city of love.

Uncle J.T, my neighbor further validated my father’s brother’s assertion that a man who can do it well is the numero uno or primus inter pares i.e the winner or the first amongst equals.

Neighbour J.T was a gambler, drunkard, wife beater and a womanizer but his wife, Ifeusor would not, against all counsels, agree to leave her matrimonial home not to talk of divorcing her husband.

She would always respond to such divorce advice from her well meaning Friends and relatives with “o ka m mezie gini?” meaning “what would I then do?” without further explanation of her rhetoric question to anybody. People concluded that her husband had hooked her with juju.

Ifeusor would accept any other bad name used by concerned relations to describe her husband but not “a useless man”. It was her who ate the pudding knew the taste.

She would tell all who cared to listen that her husband was not useless but was not prepared to shed more light on “his area of usefulness”.

The relations of Ifeusor had stopped asking her to leave her husband. “She should juice in her own stew. We shall come carry her corpse whenever John Thomas kills her”, they resigned.

I got it all resolved, one Saturday evening, as I decided to do the laundry behind the bedroom window of my neighbor, who lived at the ground floor flat, close to the common tap in a our fenced compound.

Soon after I soaked my shirts in the washing basin, I started hearing a crescendo of screams from my neighbour’s bedroom.

It was unmistakably Ifeusor’s voice.

The screams lasted for about 15 minutes and then turned to an unsynchronized song that made my very own Mr. Nwosu rise in applause and started shedding a slimy tear of joy in line with Pavlov’s experiment of controlled nervous system.

Ifeusor kept singing “J.T my husband, I will never leave you. I will rather die than to leave you! Kill me let me die. Kill me, kill me my hero, my commander and choirmaster. I’m dying; I’m dying! Chimooo! Chimoooooooo…!”

How could Uncle J.T be this ferocious,explorative and hardworking before nightfall and still, the uninformed call him useless?

I know some women who have deserted serious men who are considered wealthy and hardworking in worldly sense but could not make their wives or women scream or sing even a verse of Ecstasy Hymns.

The last time I checked, Ifeusor was still in Uncle J. T’s house singing her songs as intuned by her hardworking husband.

Men who have not achieved enough level of comfort to attract or to keep their dream women should endeavor to work harder to improve their skills in bed and to learn other ways to make a woman demand for a repeat performance.

There is nothing wrong in making a woman call a performing man multiple titular names like: “Igwe”, “Otunba”, “Chief”, “Nze”, “Okpuuzu” and “Ogbudaa” instead of thankless sounds of someone carrying a heavy load.

Trust me, ability to take a woman to the climax of a sexual mountain is an asset. Let no one tell you otherwise. Unfortunately, pastors and parents don’t emphasize this key marriage maintenance therapy.

I would rather prefer to be poor than to be rich and unable to make my woman sing a sweet melody heard so loudly from the adjoining room.

Making one’s wife or woman shriek uncontrollable screams that dovetail to songs found in Orgasmic Hymn Book is the real hard-work everyman who desires to keep his wife or woman should learn; if not, a husband would own the goat while another man would hold the rope.


By Anayo M. Nwosu


Posted by  Alexander Otti

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