Valentine’s Day Special: How Inexperienced Love Life, Moulded To Love Only One Woman

adore 5At school, while very young, I heard of the word ‘Womanizer.’ I had no idea what that means, so I took the dictionary and read ” A man who likes many women and has short sexual relationships with them.” I said to myself, that’s not the way I would like to live, especially in those days when Gonorrhea is very common.

At 19, I was still a celibate and hadn’t tasted the ‘golden apple,’ yet, surprisingly, I had no desire to find out how ‘delicious or sour it may be.’ I often hear some of my friends, talking about their girlfriends, and wonder how they had them.

Without even searching for a girlfriend, I had one during school athletics competition. Extremely beautiful dark complexioned girl called Esther. Any time she puts her hand around my neck, I feel something in my breast pocket. It was money.

I was just proud to have a girlfriend and I spoke about her to my classmates, but very green, I didn’t give her what often happens when a door is closed behind a man and a woman. After Esther, came Lydia. She was actually the first girl who thought me how to do it at the age of twenty. The contents of her love letters made me to believe that she graduated from a ‘Love School.’

When I saw her naked body, I gazed at her like Adam gazing at ‘The Apple of Temptation’ on the tree. She laid down and I took my position. But inexperienced Joe was just on top of her motionless, waiting for a miracle to take place . She then asked me to jerk my body up and down.

After following her instructions, I started feeling something unusual flowing through my body like electric current. This unusual feeling is hard to describe. Like one under a trance, I don’t think I would have got the energy to escape if a charged elephant or a wild lion is coming my way. After some few minutes, I felt like I’m in a perfect place of  happiness, paradise. I wasn’t aware that this inexperienced love life is going to help me one day.

From there on, struggling to be a man was my priority, than having a girlfriend, until I got married in my thirties. After marriage, I realized the importance, gem and quality of a woman. The long years without a woman moulded me to treasure my wife, making it totally impossible to love any woman apart from her.

To many, cheating is the best part of relationship, because it’s nice to taste different kinds of food. But just as a man gets food poisoning and diarrhea after eating contaminated food, the same way a man can expose himself to sexually transmitted diseases, then wished you had never done, but it’s too late.

There are many ways to adore your girlfriend or partner for ever. Whenever you’re watching an interesting film or program on the television, don’t lose all your interest to the program. Steal a minute to look at your man or woman. He or she will ask you: Why are you looking at me like that? “I love you,” say to him or her.

Little things in life improve relationship than being rich. There are many domestic activities. Share those responsibilities with your partner. If she does the laundry, do the pressing and if she does the shopping, surprise her with a delicious breakfast preparations. Above all try to maintain respect and remain faithful to each other, even though to err is human.

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“Life Is Very Hard. The Only People Who Really Live Are Those Who Are Harder Than Life Itself.”

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There are hundreds of definitions about ‘Life,’ but none gives me its true meaning, than this quote by author Nawal El Salaawi, “Life is very hard. The only people who really live are those who are harder than life itself.”  But who is this woman?

Nawal El Saadiaw has been pilloried, censored, imprisoned and exiled for her refusal to accept the oppression imposed on women by gender and class.

In her life and in her writings, this struggle against sexual discrimination has always been linked to a struggle against all forms of oppression: religious, racial, colonial and neo-colonial.

In 1969, she published her first work of non-fiction, Women and Sex ; in 1972, her writings and her struggles led to her dismissal from her job.

From then on there was no respite; imprisonment under Sadat in 1981 was the culmination of the long war she had fought for Egyptian women’s social and intellectual freedom. A Daughter of Isis is the autobiography of this extraordinary woman.

Author Nawal El Salaawi

Zero 5Nawal El Saadawi, also spelled Nawāl al-Saʿdāwī   (born Oct. 27, 1931, Kafr Ṭaḥlah, Egypt), Egyptian public health physician, psychiatrist, author, and advocate of women’s rights. Sometimes described as “the Simone de Beauvoir of the Arab world,” El Saadawi was a feminist whose writings and professional career were dedicated to political and sexual rights for women.El Saadawi was educated at Cairo University (M.D., 1955), Columbia University in New York (M.P.H., 1966), and ʿAyn Shams University in Cairo (where she performed psychiatric research in 1972–74). In 1955–65 she worked as a physician at Cairo University and in the Egyptian ministry of health, and in 1966 she became the director-general of the health education department within the ministry.

In 1968 she founded Health magazine, which was shut down by Egyptian authorities several years later, and in 1972 she was expelled from her professional position in the ministry of health because of her book Al-marʾah wa al-jins (1969; Women and Sex), which was condemned by religious and political authorities.

El Saadawi was jailed in September 1981, and during the two months of her imprisonment she wrote Mudhakkirāt fī sijn al-nisāʾ (1984; Memoirs from the Women’s Prison) on a roll of toilet paper using a smuggled cosmetic pencil.

In 1982 El Saadawi founded the Arab Women’s Solidarity Association (AWSA) and later served as editor of the organization’s publication, Al-nūn. In 1991 the government closed down Al-nūn and then, several months later, AWSA itself. Due to her outspoken views, El Saadawi continued to face frequent legal challenges from political and religious opponents, including accusations of apostasy.

In 2002 a legal attempt was made by an Islamist lawyer to forcibly divorce her from her husband, and in May 2008 she won a case that had been brought against her by al-Azhar University, the major centre of Islamic learning, that included charges of apostasy and heresy.

El Saadawi’s novels, short stories, and nonfiction deal chiefly with the status of Arab women, as inMudhakkirāt tabībah (1960; Memoirs of a Woman Doctor), Al-khayt wa al-jidār (1972; The Thread and the Wall), Al-wajh al-ʿarī lī al-marʾah al-arabiyyah (1977; The Hidden Face of Eve: Women in the Arab World), Al-ḥubb fī zaman al-nafṭ (1993; Love in the Kingdom of Oil), and Al-riwāyah (2004; The Novel).

The oppression of women by men through religion is the underlying theme of El Saadawi’s novel set in a mental institution, Jannāt wa Iblīs (1992; Jannāt and Iblīs). The female protagonists are Jannāt, whose name is the plural of the Arabic word for paradise, and Iblīs, whose name refers to the devil.

http://goo.gl/HrS2nD

It’s Just Beautiful A Woman Holds Her Breast When Running, But That Doesn’t Mean It’s Going To Fall Off

 

Kente is now internationally known and often used by African-Americans

The slice of Ghanaian culture presented in Kente cloth by a pretty woman

The diversity of culture is very interesting and broad subject. I like to share interesting articles with readers eager to know about other people’s culture, custom and heritage. Africans used proverbs a lot in their daily conversation and admonition. 

In 1985, my first time in Freetown, Sierra Leone, I entered into a restaurant and ordered for a plate of rice. On top of my rice was a strange greenish stew, which wasn’t good for me after tasting it. I asked the woman what it was and she told me it was prepared by cassava leaves.

She said I can try potato leaves stew,  if I want. I said ‘No’ and I went away. Months after living in Freetown and knowing much about their culture and food, I found out how delicious cassava leaves stew was. From time to time, I requested for the food I once rejected, any I went to the restaurant. It’s interesting to know about someone’s culture and food.

“It’s just beautiful a woman holds her breast when running, but that doesn’t mean it’s  going to fall off,” is one of Ghana’s intriguing proverbs.

The sight of a woman creates first impression. There are many things that put men off, especially when a woman’s hair isn’t well styled or when shabbily dressed.

In Africa it’s very common to see women running. I don’t think any one will find a woman attractive as her breasts flap on her chest as she runs.

Holding her breast while running, is one of the ways revealing how conscious a woman is over her body and truly men find it nice in that way too.

Life As Immigrant At The Notorious Pantanella In Via Casilina Rome

Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan e Bangladesh.Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupied by hundreds of Asian immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Roma Novembre 1990 Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan, Bangladesh, Africani tra cui (Joel Savage) Panoramica della Pantanella. Rome

As a child growing up in a strongly religious family, I was thought that everything which is opposite to the teachings of the Holy Bible, including laziness is a sin. I tried my best to live a clean life. We were thought to believe that Israel, Jerusalem, and other Biblical countries were all in heaven, without a slight knowledge those countries were on the same earth we are living today.

When I left my family looking for a job, I tried to be sincere and prevented doing anything wrong which could land me in jail. I read that jail changes people’s attitude to be good or worse. But I wasn’t interested to know the positive or negative influences of jail on people. My only interest is never to be there because it’s not the right place for me.

In the year 1990, from Lagos, Nigeria, I made a transit in Rome, on my way to German. In Rome, I was detained at the Fiumicino airport. The Italian immigration regularly does that to many foreigners, especially Africans. Like a tourist, I walked around the airport lounge without a room to sleep and food for three days. On the third, I was really starving, so I approached one of the immigration officials and said to him that I am hungry. He looked at my face and asked me “Am I your father?” Then he walked away.

Without knowing what the officials have in store for me, I handed over an application for asylum as a journalist and it worked, because I have some few publications over my profession on me. On the fourth day, from nowhere came one of the immigration officers, he said to me: “Your application has been accepted, today the police will come to take you to Rome.” I was shocked beyond expression.

Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan e Bangladesh.Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupied by hundreds of Asian immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Roma 31 gennaio 1991 Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan e Bangladesh. Le forze dell’Ordine sgombrano la Pantanella. Rome, January 31, 1991 Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupied by hundreds of Asian immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh. The Police evacuate the Pantanella.

 The good Samaritan didn’t only deliver the unexpected message, but he pulled out from his pocket a number of notes and said to me: “I don’t want my colleagues to see me giving you money, buy some food to eat at the airport.” I didn’t take the money. I told him: “This important information you have given to me has taken all the hunger away, thank you.” He walked away with his money.

On the fourth day, the police came, just as the officer told me and took me in a police car to the city, Rome, and left me there to fight for my survival. Without anywhere to sleep, I passed all my nights at the Central Train Station. Among other Africans, we watched a big television screen during the day to forget our misery, then in the night, I go to sleep at my hiding place. The police and the workers at the train station never discovered the place I slept.

After some time, I discovered places where I could eat every day without paying for food. I could take my bath and take some clothes. One of such places was at ‘Via Dandolo.’ Daniela, the head of the Caritas (Charity) at Via Dandolo, was a very good woman, but one of her female workers was a very bad woman. A thief. Since we had no address, our letters passed through the Caritas at Via Dandola and this woman took the opportunity to steal money from our letters.

I caught her twice, so I wasn’t surprised when I lost the 10 pounds a friend sent me from England, but I didn’t tell Daniela about it. Through the Caritas, I had my initial lessons and attended classes to learn the Italian. I was one of the best immigrants who could write and speak the language fluently, yet my life was miserable because I was still sleeping at the train station.

In Rome, I was robbed, admitted and operated at a hospital, but the nurse refused to touch me, because of my color, thus; every morning when on duty, she calls someone to attend to me, but she had time for every Italian patient at the hospital. I was once sitting in the hospital’s garden after the operation, when an Italian old man, one of the patients came close to me, looked at my face and said to me: “Marocchino motaccizoa.” – an insult, after mistakenly taken me as a Moroccan. I didn’t say a word.

Then all of a sudden, as if it was announced on the radio, all the immigrants in Rome, without accommodation, discovered an abandoned Pasta factory called ‘Pantanella.’ Pantanella is notoriously known for all criminal activities, including drug peddling and crime, similar to drug cartel zones of Mexico. One needs strength, courage, heart and braveness to survive at that place. Italians think they are brave, but many of them dare to pass Via Casilina, the street Pantanella is located in the night.

That was the place I lived and worked as a toilet cleaner for thousands of immigrants, using six containers as toilets, to raise money to feed. I was employed by the Muslim head at the place. It’s terrible and frightening to live at Pantenella. It wasn’t a prison, but the place, I think was tough like Alcatraz, because of the criminal activities many illegal immigrants engaged in feeding.

 

Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan e Bangladesh.Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupied by hundreds of Asian immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Roma 31 gennaio 1991 Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupato da centinaia di immigrati asiatici provenienti dal Pakistan e Bangladesh. Le forze dell’Ordine sgombrano la Pantanella. Scoppia un incendio durante lo sgombero Rome, January 31, 1991 Ex Pastificio Pantanella occupied by hundreds of Asian immigrants from Pakistan and Bangladesh. The Police evacuate the Pantanella.A fire during the evacuation

The abandoned factory accommodated both soft and hardened criminals from various countries, including Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Africa etc. I lived in Pantanella for four months, and the Italian government tired of the crimes going on in that abandoned Pasta factory ejected all the foreigners.

But the Italian government did something great for the African immigrants. Something we weren’t expecting. The government paid for two weeks stay in a hotel for all the Africans, with the ultimatum that before the two weeks expired, we should find a place on our own to live.

Through a very good sympathetic woman called Nana, (she died in Rome a few years ago) I got a job as a houseboy to serve one journalist called Claudio Lavazza, working at television station TG2, belonging to the former Italian Prime Minister, Sylvio Berlusconi. He provided me accommodation and paid me well. Besides, he gave me the new version of Fiat Cinque Cento (500) to drive. It may be likely that I was the first black man in the entire Italy to drive the new Fiat Cinque Cento when it freshly came out. I met other journalist friends of Claudio, including Michele Cucuzza.

After three years, I said goodbye to Rome and returned to Africa. I married and returned to Europe once again but this time choosing Amsterdam. ‘Overseas Chronicle: The Rome and Amsterdam Experience’ is a book once started you’ll find it hard to put away, because of the shocking intriguing stories in the book. Find out more of what happened to me in Rome and later in Holland, which led me to detention in Amsterdam.

 

Come sono sopravvissuto come un immigrato nella Pantanella pericoloso può essere letto in: 
Chronicle 3

Cardinal Rule: A Short Story

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Cardinal Rule: A Short Story is romantic, but this isn’t a romance…

What do you do when you’ve been there and done that – the good, the bad and the ugly? Meet Earline Jones, a woman who is easy on the eyes and hard on a man – when she loves him.

What do you do when you know who you love, but you don’t know how to express it? Meet Theodore Roosevelt Washington aka Teddy. When he falls in love with a woman, he hones in on her smallest details – and cracks jokes about them.

While enjoying a quick rendezvous, Earline and Teddy are consumed by three things: expressing what makes their hearts beat, sitting in red hot heat and eating ice cold treats. It quickly becomes an intersection between affection and reflection.

Buy Cardinal Rule, featuring Teddy (from the short story Swiggers in Independent Author Index Short Story Compilation, Volume 1) and introducing Earline Jones, and join the discussion.

This version of “Cardinal Rule: A Short Story” is 3,100+ words and includes a bonus Author’s Note section and more.

Praise for Cardinal Rule: A Short Story:

“I enjoyed reading Cardinal Rule. The dialogue and interaction between the two characters was great. I actually didn’t expect the ending.”

“Their conversation regarding their relationship was captured by a chocolate shake and a bowl of strawberry ice cream. Very clever, Joey…”

“I thought this story was very funny. It was real- I’ve heard many conversations that went along the lines of this story, and it just felt real!”

“I enjoyed a different type of storytelling infused with symbolism, sensuality, and innocence.”

“I enjoy well-developed characters. For short stories, a difficult task at best.”

“Great short story about the push and pull of relationships.”

“The information was included afterwards was indepth.”

The Author

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Joey Pinkney is an award-winning author, award-winning book reviewer, book promoter and chocoholic. He favors writing short stories, novellas and essays over longer pieces. His short stories have been published in various in anthologies and compilations.

He has been an active participant in the book industry for over a decade – and has been writing for even longer. His first published book review came in 2004 in a local newspaper in Nashville, TN. Since then, he has reviewed book for various book industry websites. He also maintains a popular author interview and book review series.

http://www.amazon.com/Joey-Pinkney/e/B014B3VZ28

The Palace Of A Thousand Rainbows

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This is the story of Barun, an unsure boy, born in Calcutta, India. At thirteen, Barun is 5’8” tall and a champion in tennis. Girls fling at him messages in lumped pieces of paper. Mother’s friends shower suspicious affection on him. 

He meets Maria a few weeks before his fourteenth birthday. Maria’s pulse stops a few weeks later. A playroom palace, a dry pipal leaf in Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali and his promise to Maria set him on a journey.

A journey in search of enduring love. A search for his Palace of Rainbows. Maa, his mother, becomes his private metaphor for sensuality.

Sakshi walks into his life as his wife. Shalini – a vivacious, lonely nurse, Gargi – a luscious, smart journalist, Chandni – a gorgeous, tormented, decisive woman with suspicious links – all cross his path – intimately.

Shoma – Barun’s schoolmate Sid’s sister comes back into his life. Will it be Shoma and the Palace!  Forty years speed past him with Maa by his side.

Does he find his Palace at the end of this tortuous erotic journey!!!! This book explores some never answered human vulnerabilities to love and eroticism.

Erotic attractions and passionate fantasies become integral parts of the protagonist’s
search and his journey through life.

Socially unacceptable amorous attractions quietly slip into close relationships leading to
enduring consequences. Human frailties make the impossible a reality and the possible a pipe dream……

The Author

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Bilol Bose holds an MBA and is an accredited applied behavioural science professional. In his teens, he authored stories and poems, some of which were published and later forgotten.

He wrote the first draft of the Palace of a Thousand Rainbows during a rainy Mumbai July of 2004. He makes two distant ends meet through his daytime profession of consulting with large organisations.

And fills his laptop with stories that are yet to be told, whenever they occur to him. Bilol lives in Mumbai (Bombay), India.

http://www.amazon.com/Palace-Thousand-Rainbows-Novel-ebook/dp/B016LX7YQW