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We are recruiting to fill the position below:
Job Title: Nigerian Storytelling Voice Over Artist
Location: Nigeria
Employment Type: Contract
Job Summary
Key Responsibilities
Requirements
Technical Requirements:
Benefits
Application Closing Date
20th February, 2026.
How to Apply
Interested and qualified candidates should send their CV, should also record the script provided below in a quiet environment and a mic, bring the story to life, put in your personal touch (do not overdo it) and submit to: dreamcreatives001@gmail.com using the Job Title as the subject of the email.
Note
Script
Many years ago in the beautiful city of Nnewi, Anambra State, where the sun kissed red earth roads and the air carried the smell of fresh palm wine and roasted corn, there lived a young man named Chidi Okafor.
He was the first of four siblings, tall and handsome with skin the color of dark chocolate, but he carried a burden that many first sons in Igbo land knew too well—he was his mother's favorite, her confidant, her everything.
Chidi's mother, Madam Gladys Okafor, was a woman who commanded respect wherever she went.
Her wrappers were always the finest ankara, her beads clicked with authority, and when she spoke, even grown men listened.
She had raised Chidi with an iron hand wrapped in velvet, and the boy had grown into a man who could not tell where his mother ended and he began.
When Chidi brought Princess home as his bride, the whole of Nnewi knew there would be trouble.
Princess was a beautiful girl from Enugu, fair-skinned with bright eyes that sparkled when she laughed.
She had met Chidi at a wedding in Onitsha, and love had bloomed between them like udala fruits in the rainy season.
But love, as Princess would soon learn, was not always enough.
The first year of their marriage was a masterclass in suffering.
"Chidi, come here!" Madam Gladys would call from the veranda of their compound, her voice cutting through the humid afternoon air. "I said come here now!"
Chidi would jump from wherever he was, sometimes leaving Princess mid-conversation, and rush to his mother's side like a puppy called by its owner.
One particular afternoon, Princess stood in the kitchen, sweat pouring down her face as she pounded yam.
She could hear her mother-in-law's voice from outside.
"That girl you married, what is she cooking for you today?" Madam Gladys asked, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Mama, she is preparing pounded yam and egusi soup," Chidi replied.
"Egusi? Tufiakwa! I specifically told her to cook oha soup today. Does she not listen?
Go and tell her to change it now. My son cannot be eating just any soup in this house."
Princess heard footsteps approaching and braced herself.
Chidi entered the kitchen, unable to meet her eyes.
"Nne, my mother said—"
"I heard what she said, Chidi," Princess interrupted, her arms aching from pounding. "I heard her very well. But you told me yesterday that you wanted egusi soup. I have already prepared everything."
"I know, I know, but you know how my mother is. Please, just do as she says. It will save us trouble."
Princess looked at her husband, this man she had married with such hope in her heart, and saw not a partner but a boy hiding behind his mother's wrapper. She swallowed her words and nodded.
"I will make the oha soup."
But it was not just the meals. Madam Gladys controlled everything—from the color of the curtains in their bedroom to the time they went to bed.
Two months into the marriage, Princess woke up one morning to find Chidi carrying his pillow and wrapper to the guest room.
"Chidi, what are you doing?" she asked, confused and hurt.
"My mother said it is not good for a man to be sleeping in the same room with his wife all the time. She said it makes a man weak, that I will lose my respect."
"Chidi, we are married! Married people sleep together. That is what marriage is!"
"I know, Princess, but my mother knows best. She has been married before. You are still young. You will understand these things when you are older."
Princess sat on the bed, watching her husband walk away with his belongings, and felt something inside her crack. That night, she cried into her pillow until sleep finally claimed her.
The worst was yet to come. One evening, about eight months into their marriage, Princess and Chidi were sitting in the parlor. She had been feeling the pull toward him, the desire to have a child, to build a family. She moved closer to him on the sofa, placing her hand on his thigh.
"Chidi," she whispered, her voice soft with longing.
Chidi shifted uncomfortably. "Princess, not now."
"Not now? Chidi, it has been weeks. We are married. This is not normal."
"My mother said we should wait," he blurted out.
Princess froze. "Your mother said what?"
"She said we should wait at least three years before we have a child. She said it is better to build our foundation first, to make sure we are stable."
"Three years?" Princess's voice rose. "Chidi, that is your mother's marriage, not ours! We have a right to decide when we want children!"
"Please, Princess, do not shout. My mother will hear you."
Chidi said looking frustrated. End.