RealUncle Iyke

The official backup page of Uncle Iyke( Dejiyke's Clips)
Where comedy meets comedy

14/03/2025

Serious nightmare ooo 😃😃😃

14/03/2025

Pls like, share, comment and follow this page 🙏🙏🙏

23/02/2025

It all started when my uncle came to visit from the village. Now, my uncle is one of those men that believe food must "touch the soul," which is just a fancy way of saying he likes pepper. Not small pepper. Not normal pepper. But pepper that can make you see your ancestors.

So, that afternoon, my mom cooked rice and stew. But because my uncle was around, she added extra pepper. And by extra, I mean she emptied half of Nigeria’s pepper supply into the pot.

I didn’t know.

I was just a hungry child, innocent and unsuspecting. I served myself a big plate of rice, poured stew like someone that had confidence, and took the first bite.

That was when my life changed.

My throat caught fire. My tongue lost feeling. My eyes started producing tears on their own.

It felt like I had swallowed the sun.

I tried to behave like a strong man, but my body was betraying me. My nose was running, my head was sweating, and at one point, I started speaking in tongues.

My uncle was just there, eating like nothing was happening. "This stew sweet die," he said, chewing happily.

I looked at him in shock. Was he a human being?

At this point, I knew I had to do something before I died. But what?

That’s when I remembered palm oil!

I had heard somewhere that drinking palm oil would help with pepper. I didn’t know if it was true, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the palm oil bottle, and drank it like chilled Coke.

BIG MISTAKE.

First of all, palm oil is not Coke. It was thick. It was warm. And worst of all, it did not remove the pepper.

So now, not only was my mouth still burning, but my throat was also greasy.

My mom walked in and saw me suffering. "Morris, what are you doing?"

I pointed at my mouth, unable to speak.

She sighed. "Who sent you?"

That was when I realized I was finished.

There and then, my uncle gave me the nickname "Palm Oil Boy." And honestly? I don’t blame him.

© Morrison Chukwuemeka

23/02/2025

The last thing Mama Ada said before she died was, “E don do… I no fit again.”

She whispered it so softly, like a secret she had been too afraid to say out loud all these years. But by the time she finally admitted it, it was too late.
I will never forget the night Mama Ada died. The sound of her gasping for air still haunts me.

She lay there on the cold floor, her eyes half-open, her lips moving like she wanted to say something. But no words came out. I was standing by the doorway, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

Mama Ada was our neighbor, but she felt like family. She was the woman who never said no when we knocked on her door to borrow salt or matches. She was the one who made sure every child in the compound ate, even if it meant giving away her last cup of garri. But most of all, she was the woman who never left. No matter how bad it got, she stayed.

Her husband, was the devil himself. A man with heavy hands and an empty heart. Everyone in the compound knew what he did to her. We all heard it, the slaps, the screams, the crashes of plates breaking against the wall. And yet, every morning, Mama Ada would step out, tie her wrapper tightly, and smile like nothing had happened.

People begged her to leave. My own mother once told her, “Mama Ada, one day this man go kill you.”

But she would just shake her head and say, “Where I go go? If I leave, who go take care of my children? I no want make dem grow for broken home. Na so marriage be, you must endure.”

So she stayed. And she endured. Until her endurance killed her.

We all heard it. Every night, the compound turned into a horror movie. The loud crashes, the sound of a slap landing so hard it echoed, the choked sobs. Sometimes, we would hear her begging, “Biko… I no do anything.” Other times, she would be completely silent, and that was even scarier.

Story continues in the comments section 👇👇👇
©To the owner