The Price of an “A”: My Story of Harassment in University
It was my first week in university. I had no intention of dating, just wanted to study, mind my business, and maybe play some badminton. Then I met him. He was unremarkable, just a skinny guy I chatted with at the bank while waiting in line. The next day, he walked into my classroom as the lecturer. What started as a casual friendship soon spiraled into something darker. And when I refused to play his game, he weaponized the one thing he had control over, my grades.
Reading the Bible Again—with New Eyes, a Wiser Heart, and Open Hands
Ten years ago, I read the Bible during one of the darkest seasons of my life, grieving multiple miscarriages and searching for meaning. Now, a decade later, I’ve begun again, with fresh eyes shaped by motherhood, faith, and my global travels. From infertility in Genesis to the wisdom in ancient laws, I’m discovering a powerful God who isn’t afraid of my questions. This journey is changing me, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
The Man Next Door: A Passport, A Benz, and Broken Illusions
From my verandah upstairs, I watched the parade, girls sneaking in and out of his flat, some washing his clothes, others arriving with soup ingredients. To them, he was more than a flashy neighbor. He was hope. A passport. A ticket out. But even as a young girl, I knew his story didn’t add up. I knew something was off. And the day the drug agents stormed his compound, the street held its breath, but I wasn’t surprised. I had seen it coming
My Winding Road Back to Faith: Reflections from a Life Between Church Doors
From boarding school skepticism to a heartfelt search for belonging, my faith journey has taken many unexpected turns. Through Bible studies, church-hopping, infertility, and IVF, I wrestled with doctrine and doubt. But somewhere between loss and longing, I found grace again, not in perfect agreement, but in peace. This is the story of how I wandered, questioned, and slowly found my way back to faith.
Catholic by Birth, Questioning by Experience
“I was nine years old, dressed in white lace and trembling inside. I had rehearsed my sins for confession like lines in a school play, small, harmless ones. But then the priest asked me about something no one had ever dared ask before. Something I hadn’t even told my mother. I said ‘no.’ And walked out wondering if I had just lied to God. I took Holy Communion anyway, convinced I was headed straight for hell.”
