Sweethearts, if you keep your pants on, no one is going to be nicking them.

On my way home yesterday, I was listening to Classic FM. I heard, a rather preposterous report: an epidemic of female underpants theft in Nigeria. Grand theft of what we call pata or p-a-i-n-t in Yoruba.
Yup. Female pants are being purloined, shanghaied, abducted and misappropriated all over the land. This making away with underpants are sometimes surreptitious. At other times it is brazen and at gunpoint: “your pant or your life!”

There was the report of some robbers storming a bar in Ijebu-Ode to plunder ladies of their pants. They took nothing but the patas. The ladies who didn’t have pants on were given new ones to wear for about five minutes. The pants were then stripped off them and carted away.
I was also intrigued to hear that the matter has assumed grave proportions in Delta State. The fine ladies yonder have sworn never to go out wearing pants!
Have things become this bad?
I get it. You are inclined to laugh off and dismiss this news as bunkum and utter tosh. Well, that’s because you are not a babe that sleeps around. If you often get into bed with strange bedfellows, you’d know better than to snigger at this perilous development.
Who are those nicking female underpants and why are they stealing it?
Well, we’ve been told to look no further than the Mammonish Yahoo boys and the get-rich-or-die-trying lot.
Thanks to global attention, Nigerian internet fraudsters are no longer running amock on the internet. Many magas are no longer obliging of distressed Nigerian princes.
But the boys have a lifestyle to uphold, aye foreign to maintain. So, these lot resort to the heinous, metaphysical and ritualistic. But Mammon isn’t going to give you such great lucre if you don’t give something burdensome in return. Not too long ago, these lot had to eat faeces. Woe betide you if you defecate in the open. Your ordure will develop wings and find itself in the gullet of some guy.
Now it is stealing female underpants.
Well, lucky them. I imagine pillaging female pants is way more palatable than ingesting diarrheic feculence.
But are all these real? Can money appear from nowhere because of some ritual? Does juju or ‘jaz’ work?
First, ladies shouldn’t be jumping into bed with someone they aren’t married to. It’s unlikely that your husband will be nicking your pants after sex.
So does juju work?
I am relieved to tell you that I do not know anyone whose pants have been so purloined and who is now barking like a dog.
I suspect that a lot of these reports are overblown, and in cases, blatant fabrication. Back in the days, some sick chap could keep a girl’s pant as a memento of his ‘conquest.’ But using it for money ritual? That’s hardcore Nollywood.
But I do know that there is good and evil, the knowledge of which were hardwired into us at conception (Nice going, Eve!).
Second, I know that where there is good, there must be an agent of good, and same for evil. In essence a causative agent. Because nothing happens without being caused. A goal doesn’t happen unless Ronaldo kicks the ball. Nothing comes into existence in and of itself without a creative agent. God is the agent of good and evil emanates from and is propagated by Satan. It is cause and effect. Capisci?
Besides, ‘jaz’ must exist because the Bible says:
“Four our struggle is not against flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this [present] darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) places.” (Eph 6:12. AMP).
So, yea, in a short sentence, there are things that happen in the supernatural that affect us. Only that many times we adduce many physically-explainable phenomena to juju. If sisterly can’t cook and the husband eats out, no girl’s given him ‘kobnomi.’ Sister needs to get with them onions, tomatoes and recipes.
The good news is, God always trumps evil. So, if perchance your pants have been nefariously nicked, or you are in a serious spot of bother, you might want to get with Jesus. He sorts people out better than Don Corleone.

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