Daria was half Russian, half Malian but Canadian by citizenship. She had a Russian mother and a Malian father. She was a vegan. But in the course of our intimate relationship, I found that she too was pro-homosexual. Her support for the sodomic culture of Canada made me lose interest in a marriage with her. I had once proposed to her in a café known as “Second Cup.” But upon realizing that we shared different ideologies and beliefs, I changed my decision. I could understand that she had been conditioned by one of the evil commandments of Canada. Daria was like a footprint of a satanic culture that was somewhat hard to erase. Thus, I avoided her permanently.
Melissa and Frosine were two African ladies from Botswana and Rwanda I had met at Shepherds of Good Hope in Ottawa. They too had pledged their support for the evil commandments of Canada. My opposition to the Canadian values bordering on homosexualism was enough to incur the intense hate and persecution from the government of Canada and its society. I felt unwelcomed and found no virtue in the land I had occupied.
Every room I rented in Ottawa was infiltrated. I lived under the roof with agents and people who appeared to be gay or supported homosexualism. This led to constant fight between me and them. And in every episode, I was reported to the police for threatening to cause harm to gay civilians. I was jailed in Ottawa more than five times because I threatened to harm gay tenants living in the same house with me and were pro-homosexual in their words and conducts.
In one of those episodes, the Ottawa police had said that I’m mentally sick because I had threatened to violently hurt my gay neighbors. Housing in Canada is very expensive. And based on my earnings as a security guard in Ottawa, it was impossible to afford a flat, to live alone without the trouble and nightmare of sharing same space with gay people. I remember being taken to a psychiatric home in Ottawa by the police, after I had threatened to hurt my neighbor who appeared to be gay. I was questioned by three pro-homosexual psychiatrists – a white lady, a white man and a black man. They all seemed disgusted about my rebellion towards homosexuals and had equated my behavior to a mental problem.
The truth of the matter is that God does not exist in Canada which in my opinion is the modern Sodom and Gomorra. And the only way one can be fully accepted in the society of Canada is to abide by its evil commandments. And for those like me who choose to oppose it, the only option is to get the heck out of Canada and “never look back.’’ And that was exactly what I did!
If on judgment day I was summoned by Abraham to testify to the commandments of Canada, I would be unable to say anything positive in its behalf. I would tell Abraham, that the Sodom and Gomorra of the bible had reincarnated into today’s Canada. The church institution in Canada is complicit to the culture of homosexualism through its gospel of tolerance and “love thy neighbor as thyself.” There seem to be a satanic love union between homosexualism and the churches in Canada. This formed the basis of my decision to boycott the churches in Canada for their allegiance to homosexualism.
I could have sworn I was the most hated person in Canada. And its government desired unkind things to befall me. On the 19th of November 2021, I stood in the snow opposite Shepherds of Good Hope. Like a lonely child, I waited for the time to get into the shelter. It was customary for all residents of the shelter to leave the facility by 7am and were to be allowed to get in by 12 noon. I remember being approached by two strange men wearing what appeared to be fashionable military wears. But they seemed like gay couples. The white man had asked for my name and I told him to “get lost.” The black man responded by saying they were only trying to have a conversation. I told both of them to “fuck off.” They left. And then suddenly, a young man who appeared to be Inuit by racial extraction attacked me by stealth. He held a huge brick stone and smashed it on my skull and ran away. I stood, solemn, quiet, in the frozen air.
There were people of multiple racial groups who stood along the street and had witnessed what happened. They were CCTV cameras that recorded the attack. I knew those men had been sent by the Canadian government to kill me. The witnesses didn’t say anything to me but I knew they liked what they saw. In their hateful eyes, I looked like a wounded statue that deserved to be destroyed. I called the Ottawa Police and showed them the brick stone that was used against me. They were two police officers – a man and a woman, both of white extraction. When I led them to the scene of the attack, I caught both police officers sniggering behind my back, as if to mock me. As if, to ridicule my misfortune. The male officer took the brick stone as evidence and told me that they would investigate the matter and apprehend the culprit. They never did!
I resolved that I was going to leave Canada. My suffering had taken a deep breath and had completely lost its resilience. Prior to that incident, I had been forbidden by the court to return to my previous address in Unit 57, 3240 Southgate Road because I had threatened my gay neighbor with a kitchen knife. I had told him that I’d stab him in his anus with a kitchen knife if he ever tried to get close to me. He was Indian but Canadian by citizenship. He got scared and called the police. As a matter of fact, every tenant in the house had called the police. Within five minutes, the Ottawa Police arrived and evicted me from the house. They referred me to Salvation Army and had allowed me to leave most of my belongings in the house for a short while. I was permitted by the court to pick them up but on the condition that the police must accompany me into the house.
After two months, I went back to the house accompanied by two Ottawa Police officers – a man and a woman both of white extraction. When we got in, I discovered that my belongings had been stolen. I called my landlady and she told me she had no idea what had happened to my properties. Over 24 books were missing. These books were biographies of famous people such as: Tyler Perry, Oprah Winfrey, John D. Rockefeller, Walt Disney, Michelle Obama, Jim Ovia etc. I had also lost my Biafran flag, my clothes, shoes, towel, hats, my Igbo cultural attire, my laptop, my film scripts, plot summaries to stories I had intended to write and some items I can’t remember.
Truth be told, I had lost very important documents and properties. At the height of my persecution, I began to receive strange calls and text messages on my phone. These were Canadian and American numbers. Strange people would call me and say stuff like: “Watch your back.” My business accounts on Upwork and Guru were infiltrated with government agents disguised as graphic artists. I remember being threatened by a government agent on Upwork. He was a white man whose Upwork profile showed that he was a staff of the Walt Disney’s company. He claimed to be a graphic artist. I had hired him to make illustrations for my sci-fi political fantasy story titled: Baba Goo.
The strange artist, whose name I choose not to publish, in response to my request had sent me a skull image of “Uncle Sam is watching you” as if to remind me that I was under American or Canadian or British surveillance. As if, to assure me of my inevitable death by government persecution. I was shocked that a staff of Disney’s company would send me death threats. My fear of being assassinated made me not to continue with the story – “Baba Goo.’’ And I decided not to publish anymore articles on the Biafran struggle for independence. Also, I had contacted Upwork through my old Twitter handle: @Jezikeauthor. I informed them of the threat I had received from a staff of Disney, who appeared to be a government agent. Upwork promised to look into the case. But nothing was done about it – even till this very day. I dare Upwork or Walt Disney Company to prove me a liar.
I dare them to declassify my account on Upwork. My account name on Upwork is “JohnPaul Ezike” and my account’s email address is:Johnpaulezike1@gmail.com. My Upwork’s passwords are: “Babagoo1234” and “Chachaman1234#” I dare them to declassify my direct messages on my Twitter handle to find out if I actually made such complain to Upwork or not. My communication with the strange Disney graphic artist on Upwork still exist and the report I made to Upwork as regards to the threat I had received still exist on the direct messages I had sent to Upwork through Twitter.
This memoir: “The Evil Commandments Of Canada” is available on Kobo
