Ten Things I would do If I Become President…

So I was just on my own, when a colleague of mine asked me this question “I am kind of conducting a poll and I will like to know…what would be the one thing you would do if you became the President of Nigeria?

I looked my colleague, half thinking that at least, this could be some trick question but alas it wasn’t. So after thinking, I thought to write up a post in response to the question.

Here are 10 things I would love to do for my country if ever I became the President. I know that they may be hard to achieve but they are genuinely what I pray any president would at least, think of to do.

So here goes:

  1. First, I would re-model the Educational Curriculum in the Secondary schools: I believe that kids in Nigeria are made to study irrelevant stuffs, way too much than they should.  In Primary schools, kids will be taught the 1999 constitution and history of Nigeria. I would put in place a system where kids go to secondary schools where they can pick up their interests right from day one [whether it be flying, reading, making inventions, solving arithmetic, discussing political issues, understanding the human body, creating new designs, dancing/acting, talking, building things, writing, learning new languages etc.] The common entrance exam will be a test of the kids natural and true interests – activities the child would naturally enjoy and then excel in. When the kid is graded based on his/her interest, he/she will be given schools of choice that accommodate such interest and the parents will determine which of the schools to pick based on their pocket. Of course, I would naturally need the assistance of a bright educationist to achieve the right curriculum.
  2. I will build a water dam in the six (6) geo-political zones to help generate access to electricity 24/7.
  3. Then, I would put in place Social Security Numbers for every member of the Country: I believe that we need to get this SSN to enable us identify each and every Nigerian citizen who will get a Tax Identification Number [TIN], enable the government verify where they work and live, and then give them access to state WIFI and Light, give entitlements where need be [to certain age groups of course] and in turn, provide the adequate protection and security.
  4. Also, I would stop people from driving personal/private cars on week days, let them commute on a designated bus instead and drive their private cars on the weekends and public holidays. I would use this as a forum to encourage drivers and conductors that they need not be touts but can also be professionals in their fields. So in this bid, I will create several kinds of buses for school kids and professionals in the Banking & Insurance industry, Legal Practice, Aviation Sector, Real Estate development, Trade Sector, Business Men/Women, Police Men/Women, Judiciary, Political Field, Entertainment Field, Market Women/Men etc. The drivers and/or conductors will be professionals in Driving practice and will be treated with utmost respect. An Agency will be created to regulate their activities, tickets will be sold to each bus with timing and bus-stop locations. This will reduce the anyhow parking of cars on the streets, encourage walking [which is a good exercise], causing traffic commotions and so much cars on the road on official working days.
  5. I would build viable ports and buy lots of ships and ferries to encourage water transportation which will be cheap and accessible to all who require it. This will also help with the Nigerian Maritime practice, the sailors we have in Nigeria who have no work here and have to travel back abroad.
  6. I will encourage the use of ‘made in Nigeria’ products and ban the importation of ridiculous items such as toothpick, pencils, pens, rice, nuts, cutleries, plates etc. I will in turn create farms with adequate machinery and  a good factory for the boys/men/women/girls in Aba creating duplicate American/UK items and tagging it ‘Gucci’, ‘Dolce & Gabanna’, ‘Fendi’ etc. because Nigerians will not ordinarily buy their products.
  7. I will put all street beggars and stray kids in the Nigerian Military Service/Nigerian Army – they are better off there rather than begging on the streets and creating nuisance. The country will make better use of their agility and because they really have no one, they will be better committed to doing what they ought to do – to serve and protect the nation.
  8. I will create a Police Academy where all police men/women will be taught the use of logic and clear thoughts, proper defense mechanisms, act of proper investigative ability, code deciphering and use of forensics in any crime scene.
  9. I will make the National Youth Service optional for youths in the country but compulsory if you wish to engage in any public service for the Country [i.e government work]. If they decide to so engage in the NYSC scheme, they will be required to join the police Academy for 3 months of their service – scrap the camping activities in various states. They will also be made to travel round the states in the Country for 6 months to learn about the diverse cultures and heritage – this will assist them to settle in any state where they are deployed for the public service they wish to engage in. The remaining 3 months will be spent in apprenticeship of wherever they desire [of course, they will receive entitlements and benefits].
  10. Lastly, I will re-introduce the Kobo and make items affordable. How? I will put the Naira and Kobo on the Forex reserve and with the help of brilliant Economist, make the economy stable. All locally made items will be sold at an affordable rate [the manufacturers will get adequate benefits to encourage more locally produced goods] while imported goods will be sold at a far higher rate because of the payments made at the customs and excise duty [the rates at the customs will be made to discourage unnecessary imports into the country].

There. I have a lot of things to say but I feel these are urgent and necessary [my opinion].

What do you think about my list? Do you have better things you think I should have said?

Please feel free to share your comment on what you think is really lacking in Nigeria.

Cheers!

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Alpha Series: E’s Empathy Lack

You can read my previous post here on Alpha Series – ‘A’s story  , Alpha Series – B’s Beast , Alpha Series – C’s Catastrophe and Alpha Series: D’s Debacle. You can also check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here , herehere, and here . Enjoy!

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“Can you try to see with the eyes of another? Can you try to listen with the ears of another? Can you feel with the heart of another? If you can…congratulations! It means you can walk a mile in someone’s shoes and not just stand there feeling sorry that their shoes hurt.”

Enough is enough!’ Ereya screams at me. I look at him with utter shock; he does not believe a word of what I say. I scurry off like a mouse to my room. I am feeling unwanted and disliked. I am feeling all by myself. I do not like this feeling. I peer out the room window looking at the nearby sea and feel the distant breeze. The rain is coming again and I smile sardonically.

Eagerly I have been staring at the edge of the water for as long as I can remember and never really understanding just why; I want to be the perfect daughter – I wish I could, but it is really hard. So maybe I will just roll away, to a place far far away because no matter how hard I try, my body still leads me back to the water.

Enthusiastically, I run my palms across my hair with thoughts that the rain is falling on me, as I continue to look out. I want to cease from existing. I am not sure how I can achieve it but the rain gives me hope. I hear my name being called. I dive underneath the bed. ‘Berema? Berema?’

Ereya’s hard feet are thumping the ground. It is sounding like drops of heavy coco yam. I shake off the thought to smile and keep a grim face. He is looking at my box. ‘Ha! I do not hide there any more, you big goat!’ He continues pacing for a while and stops, muttering something I cannot hear. He moves away to another room. I stay put for a while. I know how tricky Ereya can be.

Evolving from my trance, I hear noises in the background. I realize I had slept off underneath the bed. I am not sure how long I have stayed put but as I stifle a loud yawn, I know that it must have been really long. I hear Jaja talk with somebody. That somebody does not have Ereya’s voice. What are they saying? I wonder. I try to listen but my heart beat is interrupting the voices. I strain my ear a bit.

‘Exactly what I am saying, Ereya should have applied more caution in dealing with the situation. I wonder where she might have run off to; poor child, having to go through all that in silence.’ I hear the ‘somebody’ sigh. I wonder if my elder brother is around. I want to get up and run. Run very far away where no one can see me but I am not sure where to run to. I hope that my brothers will keep this information amongst them. Perekule cannot hear that I let them know. I know what wonders he will perform if he finds out.

Expectantly, the four feet began to move away towards the outer door. I bring out my head and scan the arena. The coast is clear. I breathe in a bit too quickly. The sun hits me. I realize the weather had changed. What a pity, I mutter…I was hoping on the rain.

Eagerly, I prance about my room. My head is singing a happy song. I stop to listen a bit. I smile sheepishly. I know what I want and I will do as I please. I sit on the edge of my bed and twist my hair into Bantu knots. I am overly excited. My jaws begin to hurt. I refrain from smiling as I let my thoughts wander. I hear my name again; I reach for the floor again and dive under the bed.

‘Employ other means.’ I hear Jaja say ‘if we cannot find her in this small house, it is because we are acting inefficiently. Let us be calm about this and pretend that you and Berema did not discuss this sacrilege we hear. Let her tell us more succinctly what she is saying. At least, I will be present too and confirm if she is lying or not.’ I hear Ereya hiss out loud ‘Berema is just a coward! I have no idea where she ran off to but if I catch her, I will beat her brains out.’

Empathy is for the brave at heart and I know how uneasy it is for Ereya to wrap this strange idea around his head. He looks up to Perekule and sees no ill in him. How dare I spoil his so perfectly built up image?

Emotionally drained and exhausted, I hold back the tears that threaten to fall off my face as I stretch my full height underneath the bed. I am no longer in doubt as to what I need to do. I am no longer afraid of hiding the truth; after all, it will still be a lie in the ears of everyone. So much for holding it in, pretending to be the strong one; needing no help. So much for carrying up a front, leading everyone to believe that my life is happy and sweet.

Existing in sizes and bits is what I have been doing but no more. I will live my life to the fullest, just as I please. No more will I dance to the whims of anyone. I know everyone on this island seems so happy, everything is by design and I will not be satisfied if I play along.

Every turn I take – every trail I track, every path I make – every road leads back, to the place I know where I cannot go, where I long to be – see the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me and no one knows how far it goes. If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me, one day I’ll know. If I go away, there’s just no telling how far I’ll go.

Even if I’ll be satisfied when I play along, the voice inside me sings a different song. What is wrong with me? Can you see the light as it shines on that sea? It’s blinding but no one knows how deep it goes and it seems like it’s calling out to me. So I will let it come find me and let me know what’s beyond that line, if ever, will I cross that line?

Featured post

My cousin has grown without me…

Yes, you read right.

So about a week ago, it dawned on me that everything was moving and nothing was waiting on me. I mean, did I really expect ‘them’ to wait on me? Lol. I know how many of us don’t keep frequent touch with our family relations except the ones that we think really matter; like our parents, our direct siblings, our parents favorite siblings and maybe three (3) to five (5) cousins plus some nieces and nephews but I try to, even though I have tons of them because my heart is bursting from too much love for them.

My story? Well…where do I begin? I have always been a lover of anything family – from my parents, to my siblings, to my uncles and aunts, to my cousins and my nieces and nephews. I mean, I grew up around family, I breathed family, I lived family, I wore family, need I say, I did everything family.

What happened? Truth be told, I am not exactly sure if I want to share that part which is very much a long story and will mean me baring my heart out but I want to say that I did my fair share of the job – which was keeping in touch as much as I could. However, life reared one of its’ ugly head and stepped in the way.

It so happened that while I was growing up, the family brand I grew to know and love, started fading away. I lost my family relations to their different school activities, their own childhood friends and colleagues, their own spouse and family, or to their various jobs. So in as much as I tried to keep in touch with no positive feedback, I started getting exhausted.

Little did I realize that time was moving at its own pace, leaving me behind with my family worries. Recently, one of my cousins graduated from the university and when I saw the post on Instagram, I was very happy but yet sad. I was happy because it was a step to bigger things for that cousin of mine but I was sad because I realized that I did not even know this cousin of mine who had grown up without knowing me too.

This cousin of mine that I did not know had grown to be something amazing and beautiful, a source of inspiration to others, a source of joy and a role model to many younger ones. I was foremost ashamed and really hurt that we do not know ourselves as much as we should have. I don’t know why I was but I just was.

I called up my brother who ought to be closer to this cousin of mine than my very self but he was wowed and excited by the fact that our cousin had graduated [how the years had run by] and promised to call up this cousin of ours in a bid to send his warm congratulations.

I know some of you may say…’hey gurl, it’s not that serious‘ but I think it is.

Family is something worth celebrating and every special moment that they have should be something happy for every other member of the family. So be it a wedding, a baby delivery, a birthday celebration, a naming ceremony, a matriculation, a school graduation, a first class celebration, a job promotion, a special appointment, an anniversary, a home warming event, a funeral or even a memorial…family should always be present.

Now I know everyone has a different definition of who they term family and I do not disagree with your opinions, I for one would and still think that one’s direct cousins should be a part of this list. We should grow in as friends, strengthening the family bond we already share – I think this is one thing the Hausa man knows how well to do.

However, I will not end this post without properly congratulating my cousin, even though we grew apart, on the university passing out.

Congratulations darling…I know that this is another step to a greater path you have chosen and  I cannot be more grateful to God for letting you go through your University years with His grace surrounding you and His mercies. I believe that you have grown to be a strong-minded, intelligent, good and well-rounded person and I cannot but stop here to wish you extremely well in your further life endeavours. I love you, always and forever. Cheers to a new phase in your life and I pray for many more good things to come your way.

 

Featured post

NEW MUSIC ALERT!!! Turn-Up

Just two (2) weeks ago, the Gangster Property announced the release of a 3rd single by Dina titled – Walking Away. The new release was the hype of the week.

If you did not hear about her previous single or could not download it, do not worry – we have got you covered. Just click on here to see her previous singles.

Now just this Friday, Dina has released her fourth (4) single titled ‘Turn Up‘ produced by No Limits. This is another jam for the season. Scroll down to download ‘Turn-up’.

If you have not heard about Dina or her recent singles, then buckle your belts because she is hitting the music industry fast and hard. You may want to store up her name in your music memory.

Stay positive to the Hype!

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Click here to download Turn-up by Dina

 

Featured post

Alpha Series: D’s Debacle

I apologize for taking too long to continue this series. I have not had the proper time to think.

You can read my previous post here on Alpha Series – ‘A’s story  and Alpha Series – B’s Beast. You can also check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here , herehere, and here . Enjoy!

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“Do not waste time with your explanations, people only hear what they want to hear. Your escape is just to get on the boat and run away on the water…sometimes you need to run away, just to see who will really come after you!”

Dawn was near and I knew that the youths would be awake watching and waiting for the sunrise. I moved stealthily about the room not wanting to disturb my children. I went in search of Berema. I peeped at the far left corner of the room but I see Jaja and Hariye instead, snoring away. Where is Berema? I wondered holding my area.

Debating on whether or not to wake Jaja, my grand-second son and ask for Berema, I stumble on a moving crab. ‘Ula li mena yo!‘ I squealed out squinting my eyes and reaching downward to pick it up. I look at the heavy creature and throw it into the nearby drum of crabs we have stocked, it must have escaped…I thought. “Perekule, Ogi ne bekwuor?” I hear Hariye’s faint voice. “Go to sleep my son, it is nothing.”

Deciding against my initial move to ask for Berema, I quietly go back to my bed and lie down facing upwards, looking at the thatched roof I made 51 years ago. The morning dew had started to fall, the cloud a melancholic grey; I felt the gush of fresh air, and I assume the river banks must be housing a party – for they are far too generous this morning in releasing the air filled with loamy soil, fish skin smell, decayed oysters and fresh crab. I sigh as I try to welcome a fresh round of sleep.

*********

Daring to be different most times is as hard as ever. Looking at the hungry youths all in wait for my continuing tale gave me a sense of pride, a sense of belonging, a feeling of love. I whiff in the smell of the river as I approached the youths. I can taste the salt of the water in my mouth, I realize just how old I have become.

Drifting my mind to when I was 15, I remembered the island were free, the people happier without a single care. There were no need for closure, there were no need for what if’s; just a bunch of people living life as it came. What changed? Colonization! The island had changed from what it used to be decades before now. There were more fancy huts and resting corners than we had in the ’80s. As I sat on the mat facing the Bonny waters, I sight Suwana; Awusa’s mama bringing a covered bowl of something.

Delighted at this offer of generosity, I washed my hands and began to eat slowly, the food that Awusa’s mama had prepared for me. The meal was a tasty concoction of traditional spices, steamed crabs, alligator pepper, boiled lobsters, scent leaves, palm oil, soft coco-yam and baby croackers – all boiled together to form a mouth watery seafood pepper soup. It looked like a healthy river, the one that could be rich for colonization.

Deliberately delaying the tale, I randomly picked on a crab, crushing the hard core and sucking the white meaty juice. I hear Awusa sing his usual tale with his baroque voice while the other youths chant along. I am drawn by his sense of responsibility. I cough intermittently watching them sing as mama Awusa hands me a cup of water. Other women her age are seated by the other side of the water, watching the strong men, row away their boats and canoes in search of a sea prey to sell for the day to the market traders.

Directing my gaze at the eager youths, I continued my tale – just after Suwana had cleared the empty bowl before me. ” Callistus endured for 4 more years in England, each day plotting his escape back to Bonny Island. Rev. Fr. Pepple was beginning to annoy him by his constant reminder of why he should become a priest. Callistus wanted to get married and not to the soft looking red girls who did not even care if he existed but to the thick looking black girl in his village who could cook him a spicy African meal.”

Destroying himself to please the Queen, Rev. Fr. Pepple and his mother who agreed to let him be sent off was not something Callistus would do. At age 14, he had become his own man and was ready to fight for his freedom. Cowardice did a man no good and he would not allow himself be subdued like his father. One cold night, when Rev. Fr. Pepple was tired from all the missionary training that occurred that week and was about to sleep, Callistus served him tea in his favorite saucer with a douse of rat powder.

Derisively, Callistus went in to lay on his mattress. When he was sure that two hours had passed, he went to Rev. Fr. Pepple’s room and called his name. After he heard no response, Callistus carried his well packed bag and headed to the sea. He had stolen Rev. Fr. Pepple’s torchlight, mirror, some kilo of rice, few quality spoons, a jar of biscuit, his cassock, four tins of whole milk, some packs of nuts, fruits and large quantity of meat. He was not ashamed at his doings, he had what he was going to show his people that he had brought from the white man’s land.

Dragging his foot on the cold England floor, he thought of how best to board the ship back to Bonny. He was not sure which ship to follow. He looked at the ships in the harbour, laying quietly without any passenger on board. Carefully, he perused each ship deciding which to enter. He finally came across one of the ships labeled ‘Bristol Queen’. Running his hands on the body of the ship, he decided that was the ship that was going to take him back to Bonny Island.

Deftly, Callistus walked around the ship, climbed the stairway provided and jumped into the ship’s cabin. Carefully, he roamed round the ship looking for a perfect hiding spot. Just then, he found a puller leading to the under cabin and moved in. Verifying that the spot he had chosen was safe till the morning, he tucked his bag under his head, pulled out the cassock and covered himself to sleep.

 

 

Featured post

The Sunshine Blogger Award

YAYYYYY!!! I am overly joyed…I doubt you will understand.

So I was looking through my site for anything new and inspiring and the Budget bella‘s post caught my eye. I clicked on it and alas my people, she nominated me. Someone explain to me how I can contain this joy? This really means a lot to me because it shows that there is someone out there who appreciates my work and sees me fit to be nominated for an award, even if I do not get it. I am so grateful to the Budget Bella for nominating me. If I see her in person, I am going to give her a really really warm embrace. Okay…enough of my excitement *sorry guys, it is really hard to contain*.

All right, so now that I have been nominated, I have been asked to do a certain number of things. I am not exactly sure what it takes to finally win and get the awards but I will follow the rules as stated and hope that I am considered or maybe re-nominated. [I really do not know how this goes, please if you know, kindly inform me, so I can vote for my favorite favorite blogger].

Okay guys, the ‘Sunshine Blogger Award’ is given by other bloggers, to bloggers who are seen as inspiring and creative. Once nominated, a blogger is required to:

  1. Thank the blogger for nominating them and link back to their blog.
  2. Answer the 11 questions asked by the blogger who nominated you.
  3. Nominate 11 other blogs and give them 11 questions to answer
  4. Notify your nominees; and
  5. List the rules and display the sunshine blogger award logo in your post.

The questions I was asked by Budget Bella and my answers to these questions:

  1. WHAT’S THE MEANING OF THE NAME OF YOUR BLOG?

My blog name doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It is actually my native name with ‘thinks-out’ saying that I actually have lots of thoughts and now I want to think them out to the general public to read and see.

2. WHAT ARE YOUR BLOGGING ACHIEVEMENT SO FAR?.

So far, I have achieved a lot!!! First, I have received so many offers telling me to make my works into a script, I have just been too lazy to re-draft into manuscripts. Secondly, I have really really committed readers and critics who call me weekly asking why I have not put up anything or why my stories do not continue or why I have to keep them waiting.  Finally, before I say too much, too many, I have been able to put smiles on people’s faces, been able to build a loyal audience and I have been able to communicate with people’s emotions and feelings.

3. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR BLOGGING STYLE?

I swear love, I have no style oo. I write as the spirit leads and hope really that my readers can relate and understand what I am trying to pass across. I think it is high time I garner a definable writing style. However, I make sure that in all I write, two or more persons out there are able to relate and nod in their mind saying ‘true that…very true, I agree with what she is saying’.

4. OUTDOOR OR INDOOR?

Lol, I think I am in between. I am a pure mixture of both. Some days, I can love to hang and play with friends, go to the beach and jump around, see a movie and eat two large pop-corns, or even go about traveling and networking with other amazing species of the earth. Other days, I can just want to lie on my bed all day, day-dream and think of what I will be like when I am 65, watch movies on my laptop, surf through the net, play need for speed, or even try to experiment cooking different foods.

5. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

If anyone knows me by now, it is the fact that I do not have a favorite food. It is like saying, ‘Porridge yam and Plantain…shift, it is only Jollof rice and Fresh Fish that I will eat because it is my fave.’ No way, that is doing a disservice to all other great food out there. I mean, how can I say my favorite food is ‘Spaghetti, boiled egg and meat-sauce’ when there is something like ‘pounded yam with Egusi and Fresh fish’ or something like ‘avocado pear, toast bread, bacon and coffee’ or something like ‘Starch and Banga’ or even something like ‘Pepper stew with crabs and boiled potatoes’? Kai, do not let me start going on a food spree, biko. I love food, that is all.

6. WHERE DO YOU SEE “YOUR BLOGGING SELF” IN THE NEXT FIVE YEARS?

OMG!!! In 5 years from now, I see my blogging self as a renowned travel and photography blogger, making great best-selling novels from my travel experience and possibly amazing cinematic films from my written works.

7. FRUITS  OR VEGETABLES??

So now I have to choose? Kai, oh well then, fruits it will be.

8. WHO OR WHAT  INSPIRES YOU ??

I am inspired by a lot of things but most importantly, I am inspired by my self-motivation to grow bigger and satisfy my waiting audience.

9. SNEAKERS OR HEELS??

Sneakers please.

10. IF YOU WERE GIVEN A PRIVATE JET TO FLY TO ONE COUNTRY,  WHERE WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

This is not fair oo, why one country? Well, I would fly to Russia because I hear it is the coldest place apart from the Atlantic and I would very much like to see where my parents schooled and where exactly my god-parents lived.

11. MOVIE DATE OR MEAL DATE??

*Tear-stricken-face…all these options that limits me, na wa oo. Meal date, please. Thank you.

NOW MY SUNSHINE BLOGGER AWARD NOMINEES ARE [GHEN GHEN]:

PS: If you haven’t heard about these blogs, you should check them out!

Natural Girl on a Budget

Cat Eguh’s Blog

Ekaete Hunter

The Kink and I

Aminu Habibat’s Fancy

A & A Nature’s Touch

Sheedart’s Space

Kofoworola Toriola

Budget Bella

The Rains Asylum

Miniscule Diary

NOW MY QUESTION GOES:

  1. Why did you start up your blog?
  2. What keeps you pushing and inspires you to publish a post?
  3. Do you blog as a hobby or because you intend to make it a vocation where you can earn?
  4. When did you realize that you needed to start blogging? And if you could write a book about yourself, what would the title be?
  5. What informed your decision to name your blog the way it is?
  6. Are there times you said you were going to stop blogging? If yes, why did you feel that way and how did you overcome the temptation?
  7. What is your biggest achievement since you started blogging?
  8. How do you feel when you put up a post and nobody drops a comment or two? Do you look out for comments or you just post?
  9. Are you happy with your blog? If yes, do you intend to publish some parts of your blog posts for sale, maybe?
  10. What do you intend to do with your blog in two years time?
  11. Finally, are you a foodie like me? If yes, do you even have a favorite food?

Thank you Budget Bella again for nominating me. I sincerely appreciate you maami. Kai. Okay, for my nominees, do well to answer your questions and nominate others you feel should get this award. It was fun answering the questions I was asked and I hope the people I have nominated will respond to my question. I cannot wait to read them!

Cheers.

 

 

 

 

Featured post

Lagos Hustle 5 – Rain and Traffic

The best thing one can do about the rain is to let it rain, because the nicest thing about the rain is that it stops…”

“You will never get to work on time sitting in traffic, so prepared to be annoyed. However, sitting in traffic is not bad as long as your lane moves faster than the lane beside you…”

This week has not been my best week in months so far and it is okay because of course, life goes on. So this is a rare situation of me catching a cold that I have hardly ever caught. I guess my red blood cells are asking for another nine [9] lives injection.

Anyways, this Monday, I woke up to the rain. As it is in Lagos, especially for all workers in companies, Firms and organizations, 4am is the normal time to wake up and get ready to set about the day’s activities. So when I woke up this particular Monday morning by exactly 4.04am to the rain pour, I thought ‘it would stop before 5.10am, it has been raining since about 2am‘.

I was wrong. It rained throughout that morning and into the afternoon. Myself and my friend who stayed with me had to find our way through the rain to get to our separate offices. Unfortunately for us both, we had no umbrella [Long story about how my umbrella got forgotten and later taken by the ‘Nigerian owner’ and so I have no umbrella].

I do not want to tell you the sordid detail of how we left home by 5.30am in spite of the rain after hoping that it would be mild, did not get a bus out of Badore to Ajah till about 6.35am, finally got to Ajah by 7.50am due to the heavy traffic and there was just no bus to our destination. How we waited on the BRT queue for another 30 minutes and then another 2 hours journey from Ajah to VI, before I finally got to work that Monday. I remember clearly getting to the office by 10.42am dripping wet and shaking like a 1 year old leaf!

My post is to tell you what happened to me this Wednesday and how the struggle in Nigeria and in fact Lagos, is very very real. So as usual, I woke up by 4am on the dot and prepared to leave the house before 4.40am. It was raining this particular morning as usual but I was getting used to it. My friend and I left home by 4.50am and walked under the rain to the estate gate, hoping to find a quick keke to Ajah/Ilaje to meet up with my other friend who was driving to work.

Now my other friend was coming from Thomas Estate, Ajah and we knew her chances of getting to Ajah/Ilaje before us was very high so I called and asked her to wait for 5 -7 minutes, if in any case she gets to the meeting point before us. My people, we waited at my junction for a keke to Ajah till 6.30am.

I was very scared. My heart beat was racing. I knew I was going to get late to work. It was raining on us, the roads were clogged with water, deep pot-holes and there were just too many cars coming out at the same time. I let out a deep sigh and crossed back to the other side of the road with my friend to enter a keke that was coming from the other side. That was the only means of getting a transport that was not already filled with people. By this time, my other friend had already left for work.

Admist the traffic, we got to Ajah by 7.45am and queued up to join the BRT since there was no fast hope of getting a bus by that time without having to fight with all the other frustrated Lagosians and getting dirty from muddy water. The BRT began to move by 7.55am and by 8.45am, the BRT broke down before Osapa London -Jakande. My chest began to dance the samba and tango at the same time. My head was speaking in so many tongues I couldn’t even hear. My hands began to speak gibberish to my body.

I did not know what to do. At this point, there was no bus that was half full or empty going my direction. All the buses kept screaming Ikate/Chisco. For the love of God, I begged in my heart for an Obalende or CMS buses or even a Lekki bus. None came. The BRT driver disappeared.

I could hear complaints from left, right and center. Some people did not even have the complete fare to continue their journey, so they started fighting to enter any other BRT that was coming even if it was extremely full. I was afraid to stand under the rain seeing that I was already shivering. My insides were rumbling from cold and I could not even keep warm. I decided with my friend to resort to street begging of private cars.

My people, it was not an easy something. No car owner/driver/passenger even looked our direction. They were either pressing their phones, making up, eating their breakfast, talking on the phones, jamming to their radios, talking to their next passenger, sleeping or reading papers or office documents or whatever those people reading, were reading.

I was inside the BRT trying to communicate like a lost puppy to any driver that cared to pay attention. I waved, I hissed out loud, I knocked on the BRT windows, for where!?

Not a single human being heard me or even paid attention. Not one. I began to fear for my safety. What if I was in a very bad situation that needed somebody’s attention. Just anybody. What if I was been assaulted, harassed or even in the process of being kidnapped? Nobody would have observed. I fear for what this country has done to us. We care no more about anything or anybody.

My friend sighed and came down under the rain hoping to maybe see a free bus with even one space. We were prepared to lap each other. Not a single bus.

I looked at my time, it was 9.45am. What was I going to say at the office? That there was traffic? That was nonsense! It is just like saying there is no light. Really? Who does not know that there is traffic in Lagos or that Nigeria generally does not have light? Is that an excuse to be late? Who cares? Get your self together, understand your area and come out by 2am if it means you have to, to avoid any unforeseen contingency. Just make sure you get to work at the appropriate resumption time. Some bosses may be nice during the rain and give you a 30 minutes or 1 hour grace but not all bosses would so do. In this Nigeria? When the economy is hard and everybody is trying to find a living, you now want to spoil someone else’s business with your lateness? Biko, stay your lane and they will stay on theirs…

Anyways, I had already informed my colleagues at the office that I would be late due to the happenings around me but I was still very scared. I was late on Monday and Tuesday, now I was adding Wednesday to the picture. Very hilarious. My throat was clogged with tears. I came down from the BRT into the rain and began to shiver and shake like a worm that had been poured salt. I ran back into the BRT and looked out again, this time hoping to find a good samaritan.

I noticed a black jeep and just somehow my eye caught the eye of the owner at the back making a phone call. The man just kept staring at me as I made several hand gestures in a pleading form and mouthing ‘anywhere you are going’. He just looked on, looked at his driver and then looked at me again. My friend mouthed ‘VI, Obalende‘ but the man was just looking confused as he was making his call. I was really hoping he would wind down his windows and say ‘I do not understand you’ or ‘Come in or ‘No, I am sorry’ but this man said nothing and the car zoomed off. I was highly disappointed.

I stared on and just then, my friend said “Oh look, another BRT is coming” and I said in reply “let’s go out and see if we can smuggle ourselves into it.”

So we came down, told the other lady with a baby that there was a BRT coming and that it would be nice to smuggle our way out of this terror plus her baby was getting wet under the rain and I felt bad. So the BRT came and miraculously, I saw our BRT driver who pleaded on our behalf to let us in.

I let the woman and her baby go in first, while I followed after my friend. There was no space to sit in the BRT bus so we had to stand. This was my first standing experience in a BRT so I was not sure how exactly to position myself. I kept hitting the lady in front of me and having to apologize so many times till I was finally able to figure it out. I felt so embarrassed. However, the lady was kind to me and later showed my friend and I, how to sit on the rail covering the engines close to the BRT driver, so that I did not have to stand

Phew! This post has become a rant.

Anyways, I got to my work place by 11.10am, said a quick prayer and ran up the stairs to my office room. When I got in, my colleagues were so nice to me and my boss just smiled me off and said “I heard your bus broke down, it’s okay. Just settle in and do your assigned work.”

I ran back to my desk, tried to dry myself even though the AC was on and pretend that everything was normal. Going back home that day was a night mare. Another friend of mine who I had followed on the way home had a car break down and he did not know just what to do. His mum who was in the car as well had to call in the dad to come to where we were parked to help out with the car. I got home that day by 12.17am.

I just swallowed spit and resolved that come what may, tomorrow was going to be better but Thursday and today being Friday, still turned out same. Even though I woke up by 3.50am to get out early, I still arrived work later than my 8.00am resumption time but I still believe that each day will be better than the last and I will not stop believing that.

NB: If you are living in Lagos and you understand the tactics and judgment here, you will agree with me that every individual needs to own at least if not two [2] but one [1] umbrella for this rainy season and a rubber slipper, you cannot afford to get your shoes wet and your socks for the guys. The ladies, it is not enough that you own an umbrella, add a rain shower cap to the list. The umbrella may just spoil, like mine did on Thursday. The rain blew it up and over. Thank God, I had something to cover my hair in.

As for the traffic, we all know that Lagos is no child’s play, so be an early riser and in situations like this, be prepared to rise by even 3am if it so means. If you get to work too early, catch a good amount of sleep by your corner before the time for resumption. Don’t worry, it will be better…maybe. I understand that you like your bed but hey guys, let’s make hay while the sun shines so that we can later lie on our bed as we have laid it. The evenings, I still have no prescription because I always get home late. I am even used to it, be it even by 1.20am. If you live by Badore, I am sure you will understand what I am saying.

Cheers to a good weekend guys.

PS: I have not had time to follow up on my previous post on Alpha series and I apologize for the delay. I have been busy and I promise to put up something soon.

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Alpha Series – C’s Catastrophe

You can read my previous post here on Alpha Series – ‘A’s story  and Alpha Series – B’s Beast. You can also check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here , herehere, and here . Enjoy!

“To first control a people, you must first control what they think about themselves and how they regard their history and culture, and when your conqueror makes you ashamed of your history and culture, he no longer needs prison walls or chains to hold you – John Henrik Clarke”

“To colonize people’s minds, you must first demonize their cultures, then their traditions…”

Cold heartless stories always began here at my community under the mango tree by the moonlight with stacks of fire-woods built like an army raving mad, shinning red and yellow, providing warmth.

Crouching my old heavy weight towards the small mat on the wet floor, I settled before the youths lingering around, waiting for my weekly night tale especially the ones I told after today’s festival.

Carefully, I looked around them hoping to find Berema seated somewhere in the crowd, she always avoided my weekly tales. I could see Awusa sitting with the drums, waiting patiently for the time he would have to beat us a rhythm in between my tales. I smile at him. Such a handsome, promising young man.

Casting my mind back to when I was younger, I decided to tell a tale of myself. So I forged names and locations, obviously the youths will be too engrossed to even think it is real and so I began…

Callistus was his name…very odd! The white men had named him Callistus saying he would one day be a priest of his people; even though the white men spoke funny languages, people still looked up to them like some sort of gods.” I hear Awusa as he beats his drum in a thundering rhythm. I continued smiling…”his mother laughed after she was explained to, saying the white men gods have chosen her son as his beloved. She gladly handed him over to them to train him in the way of their most high god.”

Considering the path his son was chosen for, Callistus father hated the white men and their funny language the more. He revered the gods at Bonny island. He revered the gods of his people. His son would never bear Callistus. His son will never be a priest. His son will speak his native tongue. The white men tried to deceive him by buying him fancy items…but Callistus father never agreed. He fought to keep his son from the claws of the white men. He fought to keep their language.”

Callistus father was unfortunately killed in the dead of the night. No trace on who did, no clue. Callistus mother gave him up the very next day to the white men, saying Uba n’uwena…uba funie wulu puena. He hated his mother for that, and he swore never to become a priest.”

“Colonization became a fun game. The white men had taken over the shores of their island, teaching the people in Bonny island the language of the Queen; English language, threatening to shoot when the people antagonized. It became an arrogant form of patriotism. The Britain were seen as great people. Their god was the one true god irrespective of the people’s gods.”

Captain Hart was appointed a chief, right after Callistus father passed on and he agreed to send off some of his youths to the British consul for special training and empowerment. Of course, the community was greatly rewarded for the exchange and that was the day Callistus forgot what it meant to smile.” I stretch my tired back as I let Awusa sing a sad song, beating his drum at intervals.

Curiously, I look around again for Berema. This time I sight Finima and hope that Berema will be somewhere around. I continue. “Callistus was taken with some other youths out of the Bight of Bonny and straight to England. Somewhere along the line, they were divided and he was sent to live with an old priest…Reverend Father Pepple.”

Constantly, Callistus tried to find the greatness in the England that he found himself. Every day, he would attend the mass with the priest and constantly be reminded that Jesus loved him. Callistus did not know about this Jesus. He had heard that the Queen’s god was superior to all the gods at Bonny Island. He was trying to understand that…now Rev. Fr. Pepple was talking about Jesus.”

Clueless about Jesus and mass, Callistus approached Rev. Fr. Pepple one night and said…Father, I not a knowing your Jesus but if you are take me back to my people-ing, maybe your Jesus will be understand. Rev. Fr Pepple had replied saying, do you not know that Jesus loves you?”

Callistus responded saying…I not know this thing you have say all the time but maybe if I go back to my people-ing and I tell them about your Jesus, we and I can coming to love him too in our village?How dare you say you want to go back to that evil forest of yours? You will stay here and be my server and learn the way of the Lord, else I will hand you to the Queen.” I waited for Awusa to beat the drum, but boy was long lost in my tale waiting on my next line. I sighed as I continued…

Capable of being killed just like his father, Callistus stayed and endured. One night, he sat up, ran to Rev. Fr. Pepple and spoke of marriage and when he realized priests don’t get married, his resolve of running away from the prison became stronger. How would they choose him for a life of suffering without his people, without a wife, without children? All for who? Some Jesus that he did not know. He began to wonder, is Jesus a woman?”

Casually, Callistus would take a long stroll at the water port when Rev. Fr. Pepple went to say mass for the sailors at sea and hoped that someone would come to rescue him. He hated his life here in England. He missed the water crabs, the fishing games and the people. He wondered what his mates would be doing. Some would have married. He missed the Kalabari dish and spices. The British people ate too many rubbish, he could not understand. They fried their fish and baked their beans. Nonsense cooking style. He kicked a stone.” I stretched for ease…I was tired of my story.

Continue grand Perekule, the youths all murmured. Don’t cut the story short today please.” I look at the tale starving youths all looking like me back then…I wonder what they will do if the white men came now to gather them away. I stand to full height watching Tamuno as he clasped his hands in desperation “I will continue next week…my weak bones are tired and need some rest.”

Composing myself regardless of the burning sensation I felt in my chest, I strode calmly towards my hut. The night was cold and almost over. Today was a busy day. The children needed sleep. I hear footsteps running after me, I know it is Awusa. “Grand Perekule, should we come to your hut? We could give you a massage as well while you tell us the remaining story…”

Craving the need to succumb to his request, I swallow a nudging smile. I turn back to see him surrounded by the other youths, all with pleading eyes. I know I need the massage but I do not want to continue the story tonight. Taking a deep sigh I respond “Grand Perekule will continue the story tomorrow…we all have had a long day, let us take a good rest, dreaming of our fore-fathers while we return afresh in the sunrise for the first time, to complete Callistus story…Aba nu’punella lolo.”

Catching my stick which was about to fall, I continue to my hut “Nu’punella Grand Perekule…Sleep well” the youths shouted after me. I reach my hut. It is dark. I reach out for the side lamp. Where is Berema?

Featured post

007: The Man with The Golden Gun…

“My name is James…James Bond! – Roger Moore [1974]”

So yesterday while on twitter, I read that my favorite ‘James Bond’ character died of cancer. At first, I thought it was some sort of new movie in the Bond series, so I went straight to Sahara Reporters site and lo and behold, the man with the golden gun had truly died. I was devastated! When I told my mum about it, she screamed! I can imagine why, we loved the guy.

Roger Moore was my dad’s favorite James Bond character and my siblings and I grew to love him the same. We had a stack full of James Bond movies when I was younger. I remember my dad would buy us toy guns and nice suits and say, ‘now you can look like 007 – James Bond!’ It was such a thrill in my little days when my dad would drive in a sudden way during our travels making us yelp and he would suddenly shout ‘get ready…James Bond 007 is on the move!’ I remember how my dad would race cars on the road whilst we were travelling and my siblings and I would keep count of all the cars my dad drove faster than. We would even encourage him with constant shout of ‘daddy, go faster…the blue Benz is catching up with you! We cannot disappoint James Bond.’

My siblings and I would grab our seat belts and glasses and get ready for the worst kind of action from my dad, all in the name of playing like Roger Moore. I remember my siblings and I would dress up in suits, pour water into our guns and act like James Bond and M. We would create secret codes and behave like foolish spies, all in the name of acting as James Bond, lol.

It’s a pity I did not get to see the real Roger Moore as I claimed I would have. May God rest his soul.

So in his honor, I will tell you all the James Bond movies I watched as a kid featuring Roger Moore and maybe you could try to see them too. Though the movies were acted a long long time before I was born, my dad kept a box of these movies, so we got to enjoy them as well, when we came alive. My dad made sure we saw all the movies…well, I haven’t seen ‘SPECTRE’, the last James Bond movie by Daniel Craig, acted in 2015.

The first I saw of Roger Moore as James Bond was… ‘THE SPY WHO LOVED ME‘. I remember I used to refer to it as Russian spy because the lady spy was Russian who later fell in love with James and one of her lines that made James Bond like her after he realized that she knew him well was… “Waiter, give James some Martini, shaken not stirred.” I also remember when he drove his car underwater and came out on an Island beach and stuck out a baby fish to the onlookers. Ah!

the spy

The second one I saw was ‘THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN’. I can still remember the song from the movie and the horrible looking man with metal teeth named ‘Jaw‘. He was so tall I thought it was a joke! My dad later told me he was made like that.

the man

The third one I saw was ‘OCTOPUS‘. I browsed it out today and found out that the real name of the movie was ‘Octopussy‘. All I knew it as then was Octopus and I remember it was a lady who was very deceitful and wanted to obtain information about M16 and thought that James would get confused by her body to reveal the sensitive information which he almost did. Jamie sha ended up loving the octopussy. #smh. I wish I could do a review on each movie though but I will have to re-watch.

DI-Octopussy-9

The fourth one I saw was ‘FOR YOUR EYES ONLY‘. I remember the video CD had legs of a girl and James Bond standing in between with his gun, the legs looked so high I wondered what was happening. Most days I’d study the Video paper to understand the illustrations and how exactly legs were taller than Jamie. I am not exactly sure the plot of this movie before I mistake it with ‘THE LIVING DAYLIGHT’ or ‘DIE ANOTHER DAY‘. They all seem to have mostly the same girls so I am a bit confused. I think I need to re-watch these movies but the problem is where to buy the CD from.

for your eyes only

The fifth one I saw was ‘A VIEW TO KILL’. I loved the cars he rode in this movie and his suave attitude. I remember the ski scene and the incessant shootings. Nobody dies, yeah…I don’t even know if the song is for this movie, lol.

a view to kill

The last one I saw featuring Roger Moore as James Bond was ‘MOONRAKER’. I remember I kept on telling my dad I was going to be an astronaut after this movie. I even said I was going to be a Russian spy so that I could travel anywhere and be anybody just so I can get information for the government. The job of a spy seemed so cool, I just wanted to be a spy already but fast forward to some sixteen years later and here I am, a tiny blogger, no spy, no astronaut, no nada!

moon raker

I realized yesterday that I missed out from watching one of his James Bond series titled ‘LIVE AND LET DIE‘. I kept seeing the hashtag #LALD on twitter following his name and I was wondering what that meant. Only to browse it out and saw the movie. I was heartbroken. Yes, this is how much I feel about him.

By the way when I was much younger, I always thought Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton and Pierce Brosnan were the same people. I just felt that James Bond grew from Timothy, to Roger and then Pierce. I later realized sometime in life [I think I was in Junior High], that they were different people.

I also thought Sean Connery was Roger Moore’s brother because they had the same nose and they had the same poise as Bond men. So when I saw Sean Connery in ‘FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE‘ and then saw Roger Moore in ‘THE SPY WHO LOVED ME [Russian spy]’, I thought “ah why are these two brothers acting the same character in different movies? Why not just pick one and stop confusing people?”

Well, now I know better.

the man with the golden gun

ROGER MOORE

from russia

SEAN CONNERY.

At that point…they looked the same. Now they don’t. Oh well! Rest in peace Roger Moore. I will miss you.

PS: I had always thought Ian Fleming was also one of the James Bond actors. Later found out that he is actually the character creator/Novel writer of the Bond series.

Featured post

Bloody Savages: Our Father

If you oh Lord should mark our iniquities, Lord who could stand? – Psalm 130 : 3″

PS: So we had been given a task about Domestic Violence on the TLC [The-Literary-Cafe] whatsapp platform and I had drawn up several ideas. I tried to reduce it in bits to make a poem but the  more I tried, the longer it got. So I gave up and decided to do a story instead. Fortunately, my story coincides with the Lenten celebration and season of Easter. Maybe I can finally use my Talent in a way that praises God. Enjoy!

Preye darts her eyes across the end of the room as daddy’s belt swifts the air landing on her back for the seventeenth time. She gnashes her teeth, recoiling in pain as another stroke hit her. Jero, Uye and I stand still at the naughty corner as we watch Preye shrink in pain from daddy’s constant beating. We know too well than to interfere, after all we had just received our share of the spanking. Mummy stands at the kitchen door shouting and crying at the same time.

“Don’t kill her for me oo, leave her, I beg of you. You have beaten her enough. Preye, can’t you run?”

“You will tell me if I was the one that gave birth to you...” Daddy states in anger as he hit her another lashing round “Ask your mother who your father is!” He finishes as he instructs her to join us at the naughty corner and walks into his room.

Uye wipes the tears from her eyes as Preye joins us with a stiff face. She never cries when daddy beat her. Mummy says she has a heart of stone and I seem to agree as well.

Everyday daddy will be beating us as if we are sticks because of a common mistake. Is it our fault that Uye broke the glass painting of Jesus on the wall?” He hisses as he finishes, sniffing back catarrh from his nostrils and examining the welts on his arms.

I look away not wanting to be dragged into any side murmuring because daddy could just spring out from nowhere and hit someone based on incessant murmuring. I pout my lips as I begin to scan my arms and legs for any bruises or red marks. There is none. I am lucky today.

I look up at Preye, my elder sister. She keeps tapping her foot on the floor. I wonder what she is thinking at the moment. Her face holds no emotions, no remorse. I want to sleep, my body is tired from all the beating and standing. My stomach growls of hunger pangs. I look at Uye who is still crying like drops of rain.

Mummy comes out with a big tray and looks at us…”next time, you all will be careful in this house. Don’t you kids know that that painting was very expensive? You people keep annoying your father all the time. Do you like the way he spanks you constantly?

She looks at Preye and I as she continues “You two, why do you keep standing in one place when your father is beating you? Do you want to injure yourselves? Can’t you run or beg? Standing like a statute! I don’t know what is wrong with the both of you.”

She hisses as she set out daddy’s food on the dining. I silently prayed the food to choke him and hand him a share of our pain. A while later, daddy comes out smelling fresh from Extract soap and water. Jero who is squatting for ease quickly rise up to full standing height. Daddy looks at us before he proceeds to sit on the dining chair.

He sits mute for a while before he beckons on us all to come over. I move grudgingly as I watch Uye scamper to him. He asks us to sit, which we did and then he carries Uye on his laps. He looks at us individually and asks, “Do you know why I spanked you today?”

Nobody makes a move to reply the rhetorical question. He looks on at Jero and continues “Jero, you are the first son and I expect everything to be right when you are around. I cannot have you around and still come home to little mistakes here and there. Preye is a girl and will always move away to another man. You on the other hand, will continue this family when I am gone. Forget the fact that she is your elder sister. I will continue to beat you and Preye for any mistake more than the others, till things get steady in this house. Don’t expect me to overlook anything…do you hear me?”

Yes daddy.” Jero replies looking up

Daddy looks at Preye and continues “Preye?”

“Sir…” She murmurs without totally opening her mouth

I don’t expect you to notice some mistakes but I believe that there are some that should not be overlooked. Example is today’s mistake. Where were you when your little brother was playing with that painting that he had to finally break it? Are you not supposed to take care of your junior ones? One day, you will have children, is this how you intend to supervise them? Do not let this repeat itself again. Do you hear me?”

Yes daddy.”

He looks at me with a warm smile and asks “Do you have a headache?”

Yes sir…” I reply still pouting

Come let me touch your head.”

I rush over to where daddy is sitting and bend my head. Daddy touches my forehead and Yelps. “Ouch, your head is hot. Go to my drawer and bring the pack of Alabukun.”

I slide away as I head to daddy’s room and bring out the pack of Alabukun. I start to smile because I know that daddy will offer me food after I take the Alabukun. I come back to the dining and hand over the pack of Alabukun to daddy. He looks at Uye on his lap and queries “Small man, why did you break the glass Painting?”

Uye starts to cry without saying anything. Daddy looks at him “I will beat you again if you do not tell me how you managed to break the glass painting. Will you stop crying and behave like a man.”

Uye wipes off his face with his left palm and starts “I was playing with the computer in the study and then I heard Jero shout my name downstairs. I was now afraid that he will beat me if I don’t come out fast fast, so as I was rushing out, I use my back to hit the Altar table. The painting now fell, after I looked at it a little, I now wanted to carry it and put it back up on the Altar table but it was very heavy so It fell again and broke.”

Daddy shakes his head “So why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Because Preye and Jero will spank  me if I did and Preye will lock me inside the fridge and Uncle Amos and Auntie Glory will not give me food.” He shouts. Daddy shoots a glance at Preye who looks away.

How come you ran close to the Altar table, Uye? Did I not tell you people not to touch the Altar when I am not around? Next time you make such a mistake, make sure to tell people around you. Whether your brother or sisters or house-helps or mummy. Do you hear me?”

Yes daddy…” he replies sniffing back a tear “but Preye will lock me in the fridge.”

“Preye why do you lock Uye in the fridge? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry daddy. I will not do it again. He just keeps misbehaving all the time.” Preye responds.

“Uye the next time I hear that you misbehaved or acted funny, I will not take it lightly with you.”

Uye nods in affirmation after which daddy gives us all Alabukun to drink and thereafter, asks us to join him in his dinner. Mummy had been so gracious to add extra meat and soup in daddy’s meal. Preye declines daddy’s offer and goes off to bed.

I, Uye and Jero join daddy in his meal. Preye only agrees before going away, to take a chunk of daddy’s meat after daddy asks her to smile.

NB: Somehow, I am tempted to liken the ‘daddy’ in this story to God. When we do something wrong, He punishes us as well as those around us who were aware of our mistakes. Later, He forgives us and uses His right arm to gather us back to Himself by showing us His mercy and love. Most times, we act like ‘Preye‘ and refuse to acknowledge His mercy because to us, we have suffered unjustly and at that moment of His mercy, we just want to be angry at God. Other times, we act like ‘mummy‘ and blame people around us. We even go ahead to suggest easier illegitimate ways to avoid any sufferings that we feel are “Devil-inclined’. Some of us act like ‘Uye‘ and hide all our bad habit, thinking that God will not know or find out and when He eventually does, we blame the Devil.

How many times have we remained angry at God because of our sufferings?

How many times did we neglect to acknowledge by praise, a blessing because we feel that our sufferings are not commensurate?

How many times did we blame others for sins we ourselves committed?

Do we not feel it the right time to kneel before ‘Our Father’ and ask for his Divine mercy? At this season of lent, we should come before God in reverence and repentance. Remember, the Lord Listens and forgive those who are willing to submit.

Have a great day!

Featured post

ONE DAY…

BAD ABG...Cockroach comedy

One day, you shall be an old person. An ancient human being with a back bent from severe arthritis. You will be hard of both hearing and sight, as most ninety year olds normally are. Anything more than three feet away from you will appear as a shadowy haze. Anything more than two metres away will be invisible, the scales in your eyes having rendered it so. Your eighteen year old grandson will have to shout a statement several times into your ear for you to get what he is saying (that’s if you are lucky enough to have gotten married early). Even then, it will be shouted only into the right ear, for the left would have completely died by then.

You will have only your incisors left in your mouth, the joys of eating “Goat meat or Isi ewu” as it’s called, will be gone, having been extinguished by your losing your canines roughly say like ten years earlier. You will only have the pleasures of still been able to take fresh fish pepper soup and whatever they make with it at that time.

You will be living alone in your house, save for your eleven year old dog(That’s around a million in dog years), if you even decided to have one earlier, you know Nigerians can be a bit funny about pets and your man/Woman-servant (I’ve always wanted to use that word), who will be completing his/her thirty-second year of service to you (That is if you have money to pay for the services or if your grown up kids are extremely nice to afford you one).

He/she will be called Itseme, not because an angel revealed that name to his/her mother, but because the mother’s first boyfriend was called Itseme, though she had lied to her husband that she had gotten the name from the Bible. Your dog will simply be called “Captain”, as your mind will be too tired to name it properly and also because it refused to respond when you called it “Malcolm”. Arrogant dog that.

You will be living in a duplex or maybe a mansion (if you had a lot of money back in your days to build one) somewhere on the Island. Somewhere far enough from town as to provide a delusion of peace and tranquillity, but at the same time close enough that you do not feel out of the loop. You are an urbane, old person, so there is no way you are going to punish yourself to the boring rigidness of rural life. Most of your friends will have been long dead by then. The few that remain will either be comatose in an ICU somewhere or too loopy for you to have a decent conversation with.

Your sole companion, apart from your dog, Captain, shall be your man/woman-servant (That word again) Itseme. Sometimes you will forget the story of his/her mother’s first boyfriend and call him/her “Ogbeni” instead. This is because, in your head, you will deem it unfair that you have never known anybody called OGBENI but have an uncle, a son, a grandson and a great-grandson all called Itseme. 4 Itseme’s’ in your direct line; 3 sired from your loins. Now, your man/woman-servant.

Haha! No, the bastard shall be called “Ogbeni”. Maybe the dog should be called Itseme…

Ogbeni (the one formerly known as Itseme) will cook all your meals for you. Your diet shall consist of mashed foods, Wheetabix, Cerelac and Golden Morn (that’s if they still exist by then); because that is the only thing the mouths of toothless bastards can muster.

Ogbeni will also be in charge of your hygiene (Read that he/she will bathe you.) You will be vexed that a fellow (wo)man has to wash you, and will once in a while stubbornly insist on showering by yourself. Only when you are slumped on the clod bathroom tiles after your legs have given up on you, will you then call Ogbeni for help. Ogbeni will refuse to come saying that that is not his/her name. You will be forced to call the bastard Itseme, and instead of the man/woman-servant coming, your grandson called Itseme will come running, see you on the floor and then run back to tell his father, also called Itseme, that he has seen Granny’s Pee Pee Thing.

Once in your while, your grand-kids will ask you to tell them how life was like in the early part of the 21st century. You will regale them with stories of your early years; you’ll tell them all about whatsapp, bbm, Instagram and Facebook. You will tell them how everybody with a phone/tab and an internet access had a blog. They will look at you with shock, wonder and ask you what a phone/tab is. You will shake your head and pray to God to take you away because you would have been tired of everything new.

By that time, you will be an old respected citizen of Nigeria and you will feel like “Ken Saro-Wiwa” felt in his days. You will be one of those rare people who existed when Justin Bieber & Wole Soyinka was still alive. By that time, Bieber will have been dead for 50 years, having died of a drug overdose, as every other person in his type of business does and Wole Soyinka will have died even before you became 50 out of a severe heart attack. Fortunately, he will have a statue to himself placed somewhere at the outskirts of Lagos and a plaque of him in every theatrical house in Nigeria.

There will be a new type of music people will be dancing to, a music genre which you cannot fathom, with artistes bearing names such as Abu the Cockroach and Ekuns the pregnant Butterfly. Some sort of translating device will have been invented, and people will stick mini versions of it in their ears at night, so as to have those pristine night-time conversations with mosquitoes and all sorts of squirming, frillings insects.

You will stay in your house all day long, because the environment outside would be too harsh for you to bear. There will be flying cars all over, which at the press of a button, turn into easily portable briefcases. People will communicate with their minds, because some sort of thought transmitter will have been created. You will be an old fogey, or as is called in our times, an analog bastard.

You will reminisce about your earlier life when you could eat Goat meat/Isi ewu, because all of your teeth were still intact. You will remember the drinking binges of “Alomo bitters & Origin”(which will no longer exist at this time) when you were in the University campus, when you got hang-over for days on end. You will remember Walter, Ama, Nnamdi and Tuoyo, your drinking buddy, those people who could drink a whole bar by themselves. You will start to take out your phone to call them, but then remember that phones no longer exist, and that they are already dead anyway. Walter died of liver cirrhosis in his late fifties, Ama had Alzheimer and got hit by a moving car, Nnamdi had died on a plane coming back from Tokyo and Tuoyo, you remember the last time had Cancer and was supposed to die a while back but because you couldn’t keep in touch, you don’t know much about her life anymore.

You will remember Anita or maybe Michael (if you are female), hot Anita/sexy Michael; the one who made your blood boil like mad in your youth. The first girl/boy you ever truly loved. The girl in the yellow umbrella, the boy in the gorgeous three-piece suit. Yes, that one. You will start crying because his/her funeral was five years ago and also because your eldest grand-kid looks so much like that person.

Captain will come into your room and find you crying. She will climb up onto your shoulders and start licking you. You will be comforted, but only for a bit, because you will realize that dog is very old in dog years, and will die very soon. Your great-granddaughter will come suddenly into the room to show you a ladybug she caught outside.

“Look at it, it’s so pretty.” she’ll say

You will see her lips moving and smile sheepishly at her. She will flash a pretty smile at you, oblivious of the fact that her great granny is ninety years old and cannot hear what she has said.

By this time the sun will be setting. The sun’s rays will cast their shine over the hills in the horizon, lingering, almost daring you to believe that it will stay. The whole place will be a pale red, as the sun casts its last gaze over the land. Captain will still be perched on your shoulder. Your great-granddaughter will still be showcasing the wonders of the ladybird to you. You will think that now the time is ripe for you to pen your memoirs, write about your childhood, your friends, your life. You will lie grossly about events as the people who would have called out your falsehoods are all dead. You will start crying again at this thought. Captain will lick you as she wag her tail.

One day you will write about this place and time.

Featured post

NEW MUSIC ALERT!!!

The Gangstar property announces to you the release of a new joint – #Walking away, a new release by Dina, produced by Blazer.

Walking Away her 3rd (third) single drops tomorrow, Friday. This is another ultimate jam for the season. Stay positive to the hype. Be woke!

 

Get this new beat by Dina on data file host. Follow the link below…

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Download Walking Away

The artiste, Obasi Blandina, popularly known by her stage name – Dina, is a native of Imo state. She however, grew up in Benin city. Dina studied Mass communication at the Institute of Management and Technology (IMT), Enugu State getting an OND degree. She is a song writer, rapper and an upcoming R n B artiste.

Before #Walking Away, Dina released her first ever studio recording titled ‘Loving it’ in December 2016 which featured another young upcoming rapper, Pay J. The song produced by ‘No Limits’ became a success. She went on  to record more songs to include hits like ‘Bad Belle’,  ‘Me & You’ and ‘Turn Up’.

 

If you have not heard her recent single ‘Bad Belle’ which dropped two weeks ago, then you better check it out. Who says Dina does not have the talent to deliver well written lyrics?

Listen up!

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Download Bad Belle

Dina is an Artiste to look out for as she is raving strong and willing herself to keep on producing more hit singles. Turn Up, her 4th (fourth) single is set to drop very soon.

This is another crazy windy tune from the Artiste who is a bag of talents.

Anticipate Turn-up guys.

 

 

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