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And murder, she wrote

August 1, 2011

SHE KNEW THEY WERE IN THERE, in his bedroom. They could be doing a number of things that are unrelated to what you feel in your gut. What you think you know, a voice reasoned. Yeah right, ‘Pamela Anderson tits are natural’. She knew what she would find if she crossed the hallway and entered the right across it. She supposed she had known (though not for certainty), for a few weeks what had been going on behind her back. She had heard the whispers, had heard the rumours. At first she had dismissed those suspicions as utterly preposterous. Then she’d dismissed the rumours  ‘cos she desperately didn’t want them to be true; remotely. The pain had been unbearable, just entertaining the thoughts of him cheating on her with ‘her!’.

Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly towards the door of the room where her female essence had been given willingly and lovingly to the man she loved. As something she could only label dread registered in the pit of her stomach, she knew. Certainly

It had been easy and hard for her to set this trap. They thought she was in Abuja for the weekend when she had never left Lagos

Opening the door as casually as one who had that thrilling-but-almost-fatal-race for the loo does after he had successfully dumped the shet, she stepped slowly into the room. The vision of what was going on the bed slammed into her with the force of a charging-bull

She thought she had been prepared, for what she would see in here. But she hadn’t, not for the searing pain that sliced through her, not for the spurt of hatred that flowed through her.

And ‘how nice of them to be so engrossed in their throes to not have noticed her entrance’, she thought bitterly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you guys” she said, and was somewhat surprised at the lack of emotion in her voice. That is, if you discounted coldness

They sprung apart. Like the way the hand of a ten year old boy awkwardly disappears from the pot when someone suddenly walks into the kitchen. She would forever remember the look of horror that immediately appeared on their face when they saw her standing in the doorway.

“guess it’s a party for two” she commented, noticing the opened bottle of champagne and two glasses standing on the stool beside the couch at the far corner of the room.

“Ese……” he started weakly

“Yes?”

“You are supposed to be in Abuja” he mumbled dumbly

“I see you were counting on that….”

“Ahhh…..”

“How could you?” because ‘she’ hadn’t spoken a word since their tryst had been interrupted, she angled her head to face ‘her’ and whispered “how could “you’?!”

Slowly, she dipped her hand into her purse and removed the pistol. She saw the sheer fear and terror on their faces as she directed the gun towards them.

“Now now, Ese….. easy.. easy. Let’s resolve this matter reasona-”

“Shut up! Just shut the hell up!! Were you gonna say reasonably? I’m shocked! Did you treat me reasonably? Respectfylly?? I knew you guys were going at it behind my back you know, at first…….

*******

It’s alright to play around…. Just remember that the feelings of others are involved…

Better Dayz

July 30, 2011

Ethiopia (1984). Sudan (1998). Niger (2006). Now, Somalia….

And its not just these places. Its everywhere

People dying of something as basic as food. A lack of it, that is.

When the U.S of A can afford to spend a reported $450bil on a senseless war? When SA nd FIFA can afford to spend billions on a ‘footie showpiece’?? when the likes of Exxon, Microsoft and Apple make billions of dollars each year??

Its not that simple, u say?? It IS that simple.

A reported 1billion people go hungry. Every day. It IS this simple

But like the complicated, often over-thinking-and-analyzing but ultimately-senseless race we are, we make things difficult. The poor is not my business, It’s yours. The homeless isn’t my business, it’s hers. The hungry aint my business, it’s theirs. That’s what makes us human, I guess. But it is unacceptable.

“We are the world. We are the children. We are the ones to make a better day so let’s start giving…”

Some quarter of a decade ago some of the finest musical minds and greats sang a song that became some sort of a legacy to the world. A song that, for me, is the ultimate purpose as to why we were created; To make this world a better place.

Nobody wants to hear about giving to the poor because everybody, to an extent got money problems.

An Estimated $3.5mil people may die of hunger. HUNGER. That’s not acceptable by any stretch.

For far too long the questions have been, whats the UN and the US going to do about the never-ending poverty in Africa? Whats the UN going to do about the choking state of illiteracy in the world? What’s the Nigerian gonna to do about the hunger and illiteracy among its populace?? What’s Bill gates, Dangote et al doing about all this? We are all too willing to ask these useful questions without another question of equal importance: What am I gonna do? What can I do??

U might not be able to feed the whole of Somalia, or cater for an ‘homeless shelter’ but trust me, u surely can do something to help. That bag of rice u make a habit of buying for that orphanage home every three months IS something. While we sit at the galleria watching that new movie, sit in front of our Macs and iPads tweeting and fooling around to unwind in d evenings, ping with our BBs while slugging down that Vodka to TGIF, a child somewhere very close to you goes to bed hungry. It is unacceptable. Either Nature was somewhat kind to you to allow you to be born to a better family than most or it was kind on you to allow you come out of the less than perfect living conditions you were born into. Its time you do something to, I don’t know, balance the equation? Yeah, something like that. Past time…

Its not just Somalia that people go hungry. Its everywhere. Yes, your neighbourhood too

Sooooooooooooooooooooooo, whatchu gon do about it?

This post is for everyone who takes the time to read it AND myself

I have no illusions that what I wrote above will suddenly cause people to become mother Theresa. I just hope this inspires you to do SOMETHING. A child’s life could very well depend on that something

All HE Wrote

July 28, 2011

Of late there has been a lot of blog-posts about the side-chick and cheating. I’ve read a lot of posts and noticed a trend is being set, STEREOTYPING. Testosterone is getting confused as a cheating hormone. Shagging on the side, double dating, ‘break-up manoeuvres’  are been associated with Bros, no one is talking about the cheating chicks.

‘P’ is the one thinking for some bros, but it still does for some chicks. Money, gifts and booze are accidentally added incentive. The spotlight should be shared, someone needs to talk about them.

*********

DISCLAIMER: I might veer off  (appear to) my proposed topic, but the underlying  theme is still the same.

“So?” I ask

“So that’s all, the truth” She says.

Does she think I’m a Rev. Fr?  I don’t care if she’s a slut or whore or both or neither. I don’t want to hear a confession. She invited me here, presumably to (re)discuss the (new) terms and conditions of our relationship. God, let it not be for her to justify her acitons.

No one, man or woman has to justify him/herself to me. Lord knows I have trouble enough justifying myself to myself.

You cheated, that’s now in the past. You don’t have to justify your actions or reasons to me. I don’t care what your excuses are; be it to ‘save the world’ or ‘with an ex’ or ‘acting our your fantasies’… (It’s of no point;  I’ve done my fair share of them).

Although, I thought our relationship will be different from my previous ones, that you will be the 1.

For the first time, I could actually picture my future with a particular girl in it. I had it all planned out. Karma is a bitch. One who has caught up with me.

I’m acting civilized about it, keeping my cool. Not going to get all teary eyed, sulk or dorn that hurtful look they always wear. I’ve had this conversation before, only the roles were reversed.

If it’s what you want, I’m going to continue seeing you, in an open, ‘closed’ or no relationship (whichever you agree to). But those ‘moving in together’ plans will be put on hold.

I’m going to dust out my “black book” when I get back home, make some calls, check who’s in town and still in the game. I’m back in the side-chick business!

The boys are going to have a good laugh when I tell them ‘I’m back’, but they will also whip out the Prodigal Son welcome me for me.

You will get no argument from me when you say we should go back to what we had (as we were), cos it was something special.

What we had was one of us fighting temptations to remain faithful and the other shagging on the side at every possible opportunity, of course.  I’m with you on going back to that, just the roles will be reversed this time.

I think play the lying cheating scumbag better. I’ve done it a lot of times in the past. Not just since I’ve been with you.

The trick is not to be caught.!!!

HandOUT

July 20, 2011

I’M NOT SURE YOU act the same; maybe you are a better person than I am. I ignore them on the street, side-step at corners and consider them an unattractive site –they dirty up the street-, but all this changed when this happened…    

I saw her as I stepped out of the office building. She was settling at the veranda of a closed shop next building. From the look of things, she was settling down for the night, maybe the weekend. I made a mental note to bring her up during my next chat with Mama Tejiri.

She looked up and saw me walking by, the firm has a special car parking arrangement for it staffs with the owner of a building nearby. My car was parked there.

Seeing me, she (seemingly) musterered strength, and walked down wearily to me with outstretched bone thin hands. She’s asking for a hand-out. I shake my head and walk on.

My hand pressed against the 25k in my right pocket, I felt a prick of guilt; I’d love to give her a little, but it’s in 1k bills. I can’t afford to give her one of those as I’m on a very tight budget. Sophia is visiting tomorrow.

10k is for her hotel bill (I’ve been dreaming about the nights she’s spending here). After setting aside the 6k for her ticket back toAbuja, the rest is not going to be enough to feed, party and show her around town.

“I’m going to try to borrow some money from my brother” I thought to myself as I stepped into the car.  By the time I drive away, I’ve forgotten all about ‘her’ (d  ‘beggar’). It’s going to be a great weekend (I’m going to teach Sophia that there’s more to frakking than being a ‘missionary’).

**fast-forwarding –> to Monday. We are not here to talk about my weekend with Sophia, it’s not suitable for public reading…. Move along people.**

………I returned to work after a very satisfying and satiating weekend (‘P” was properly set) to meet a sombre crowd packed in front of Mama Tejiri’s as I walk from the ‘parking lot’.  It’s Mourning Monday’.

I squeeze my way through the crowd to see what was happening (or had happened). My gut clench as I elbow and shove my way through, I’ve got an eerie feeling; A premonition.

There she was, lying where I first saw her, DEAD.! I choke at the sight of her lifeless body.

“Hunger must have taken her” a voice from the crowd says. I ask myself, “Was I spending on condoms and lubricants while she was starving to death?”

Thoughts and questions come in torrents, I struggle to keep up with them, one of them stands out, “Will she still be alive if I had helped?”

A Mama Tejiri led group goes for the body. As usual, those underpaid “korofos” are a ‘no show’.  But the store needs to be opened today; There’s money to be made.

I step away from the crowd (I needed to leave there as I was beginning to feel weak-kneed) and entered the office building. It was a miserable monday.

I (later) learn her story from a co-worker. Although pregnant and gravely ill, she was thrown out of the hospital for inability to pay her bills; She was pregNANT.!! The thought of the unborn child did it for me.

I closed my eyes and said a short prayer, one of mercy and forgiveness. Don’t let it happen again the Lord said to me.

********

 I’m not going to launch into a long winded moral lecture at this point. Our friend above was told not to let it happen again. I’m saying “Don’t let it happen to you”

“When we read about horrendous wickedness and inhumanity inflicted by someone. We shrug and say ‘that can’t be us’ and how we’d act different if it were up to us. But it’s little drops of water that makes an ocean, It starts with something like this, a little act of unkindness, -it’s how villians are created-.  How he (our friend) became the ‘beast’ of our story. .”

The Street Kid

July 16, 2011

My thoughts are not a happy place

I try not to be in them too often but sometimes they are all I have

My only companion

Growing up where I did made me what I am today. Its not an excuse. Its fact

My hood was the slums; places which make razz look like British royalty.

Places where survival is the watchword.

As a little boy, a part of me wanted to go to school and try to make something out of my life.

I wanted to get out of the slums.

Another part of me always asked why should I want to go to school? Everything around me was against schooling. The people around me didn’t give a toss about schools.

My mates were running around chasing rabbits, stealing fowls and rolling tires around in carefree bliss. Why be burdened with school and its nags?

It was always a losing battle. Conditions around me answered those questions.

No sandals (slippers), books, tuition fee –no matter how small it was-, how could I go to school?

It was that easy an answer. I joined my mates

Whenever I passed by your school to buy cigarettes n stuff for my ‘area bros’, I always felt a little pang of envy and regret, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I’d seen and done things which would’ve sent you into shock. I was a man. You were a boy.

As a young man, I was too set in my ways to think of a future that didn’t involve violence and/or ‘lawlessness’. I certainly wasn’t wise enough to see the path I was headed.

I was my own man and loving every moment of it.

While you were sneaking the latest Playboy and hiding it like a sin, Going in ‘deep cover’ to watch the latest Jesse Jane movie I was busy filling up her breasts and pumping my shaft into her centre of excellence.

My formative years on the street was over,

I was who I am now already at 15

It was time to polish the edges.

Teenage cultism? Fuck that. It’s child’s play! I was helping my Don of my hood clean his ‘tools’. I was the lookout boy to warn them in case the police showed up to bust them.

Home? For all intents and purposes, I lived at the ‘cartel’ (igbo-house)

I was the errand boy and always in possession of the weedy stuff.

My head (mind) was almost always filled with it.

By 17, I’d raped my first victim. She was a sweet little wench. The remorse was there, but it passed away. The others I raped only gave me pleasure.

By 19, I’d taken my 1st life. The fear was there too, but that also passed away

By 22, I was a moderately successful armed robber. Had a Golf 4 and a litany of hood bitches to choose from. Life was good

Two weeks after my 24th birthday, I went for a job. Just another job. I killed. Just another victim. I was caught

Now I’m awaiting a trial that will almost never come. Rotting at the bottom of this Police Station.

I know my fate, Death. The system while it protects white collar murderers like our leaders has got no love, for US.

Do I deserve to die? Yes. I certainly do

If I relived my life under the same conditions, without knowing my end, will I be a better person? A different person? Probably not.

The stronger ME would have made it out of the street. Maybe become a carpenter, a mechanic, or on the one-off, a university graduate.

The ME who stands in the middle would be an Agbero or Truckpusher.

The ‘ME’ is a robber. A thug. A brutish assassin. I was weak.

The Society/environment conditioned me for failure. I failed

The only thing that might have changed this outcome? Parent(s) who cared.

Yeah, I wish I had that….

***************

Thanks for readng. Many may feel that the parent shouldn’t shoulder the blame of ‘my’ outcome, my editor (self-proclaimed) @kblewin also feels so. Pls use the comment box to to air your view on what would have changed my outcome.

Lest I forget, Congratulations to @KevinwithanL on winning the Most Humourous Blog award. Heard he’s organising a ‘Celebration Party’ next weekend. Do check on him for real time update about it.

Oshee.!!

VAMPIRE DIARIES

July 6, 2011

“see all eyes on me, I’m feeling like 2pac sef.

I don’t know why you people like to mind my business for me o.

So what, I was dropped by Alhaji on a Monday morning

So what, I called him Kamiru as he drove off

So what if he is older than my father?

So what if you call me a prostitute?

I’m a RUNS babe, and baby, I no dey shame

Why I go shame sef?

It’s survival. Yep, for me, it is

You, Aisha wey dey look me like say I be lice, I steal your boyfriend?

Abi na me send you say make you be ashawo wey dem no dey pay.

Every single boy for that ur Department don chop ur beans; chop, clean mouth and tell your bye bye.

You say it’s for fun; at least you are not selling your body for money?

I say toto wey dem fuck na toto wey dem fuck. At least mine is bringing in revenue, and I’m taking care of her wella. I wax her; you use shaving stick on yours.

Ahn Ese, you get mouth to talk? You went down with every guy on the management crew of that Beauty pageant gig. Even their driver suck your Bobbie sef. And still you get mouth to talk? Abeg \__

Mary? You?! Anytime you want something from your bobo, na then you dey go spend the night, then return the next day with what you want. That Brazilian hair take you the whole weekend off…. You dey do runs with style cos that nor be relationship. #NewsFlash: that one na indirect prostitution.

And you Agatha wey go fuck boy, come give am money to clothe and shine him girlfriend, na you worst pass. You and your pussy lack sense. No wonder Uche say your pussy dey squeeze (frown); She no dey happy

As for you Bose; every Musa, Chinedu and Efe don hit jackpot on the first date with you. Your own na just osho-free pussy, Correck cheapatiko!!!

And yet y’all judge me? Abeg abeg make una ride on

Una dey use una P as una see fit, I think. me dey also use my own as I want.

And my own dey pay.

In six figures. No time

Phone rings- Ringtone plays *when the money goes, will the honey stay?*

“No”

*Picks call*

“Hey my Kamiru”

“You did? I miss you tew, big boy”…..

*Walks off and voice fades……

 **********************************************************

Prostitution is as wrong as it gets. Hypocrisy isn’t any better….

I’ve got no intention to sound like a Pastor, but the bible condemns all forms of sexual utterance outside marriage; fornication, adultery and harlotry. There’s no higher value placed on harlotry. So what’s with this prejudice against these girls? Holier than thou?

DARK AGES – d seQuel

June 21, 2011

NAIJA SAGA 

Okay, before you say it or entertain thoughts about it, this is not, I repeat it’s not another so-called epic nollywood movie starring Chioma Chukwuka and you know who, with three parts lasting 4ever. This is an inspired monologue; a sequel, of things past, present and to be.

Now I believe we all must have heard a thing or two about the dark ages, but for the sake of the unenlightened few (still changing fb profile picture) who went to book but know school (*clears throat* Yes? I know what I wrote. No gbagaun here, move along); Let’s take a few moments to revise the basics.

Historically, the dark ages is a period in Western Europe between the fall of The Roman Empire and blah blah blah…, where there was a loss in the art of reading and writing, no technological development, with cultural and economic deterioration. This description sounds familiar right? Yeah! It depicts d Nigerian society today.

Wait up! –Hold on player-, before you self-proclaimed nationalist start screaming and commenting on how erroneous this notion is, Let’s take a moment to look at the label “dark ages” which connotes a period of darkness. Ever heard of NEPA cum PHCN? Huh?? You get where I’m driving at?

Please flag-waver, a question:  How many Nigerians do you know who haven’t chanted those exasperating syllables “NEPA!” for once in his/her lifetime (Sorry, meant 4 more than a million times in his/her lifetime)? Even children given birth to 5 years after the name change (Name changes but Darkness remains), still know that name; that chAnt.

The importer, exporter and general manufacturer of I-beta-pass-my-neighbor (which has become a very bOOming business) has found himself rolling in money as only a privileged few (“Us”  for example) can afford Mikano plant. The price of candle has skyrocketed to N50 (The junk my mind gathers. How did I come by this information sef? *shrugs with silver spoon in hand*).

Naijarians considers it d blessing and favour of God, and fight the urge to run to church and testify of the goodness of NEPA wheneva they get uninterrupted power (LIGHT) supply for three days.

My personal favorite is the losing battle fought by CONDOMS against SPARE BATTERIES for dominance in tweeps’ wallets. Though, the most annoying, aggravating and infuriating (add any phrase showing anger you know) issue of this dark ages is the problem of pressing clothes. I mean how am I supposed to iron this sleeve which I wanna wear to shyke this chick tonight? –Mehn, I hATE NEPA!!

Should I talk about the decline in writing and reading skills next? No. I berra save the best for the end.

JEHOVAH OUR GOD IS VERY MERCIFUL. That’s the only logical explanation for eMpTyheN –MTN- still being in existence, I mean after those curses (which should be enuff to overflow the River Niger) they receive daily. But come oh, How do they explain why a Nokia 2700 can browse faster than a STORM on EDGE? They should simply have invented a name –LANDLINE- for their internet speed.

Should I also mention the stunted growth in Nigeria banking? I mean haven’t they heard of PayPal? Why it is that none of them wants to follow the technological advancement of the outside world and enable funding of PayPal in 9ja? What on earth are we still expected to do with d 2000late Visacard?

INEC and JAMB are not left out oh! With their 19hrs accreditation, certification, validation and verification of eligibility (*thinking aloud* was any other fancy word still used) process. I mean JAMB conducted the actual examination for less than an hour but carried out verification for more than 5hrs.

INEC nkor? Their own na worst pass. *reminiscizing the unending hours I spent in line for accreditation* and to think of d fact that our neighbours are adopting electronic voting which lasts for less than a minute.  Aww! *grabs handkerchief, -there’s dirt in my eyes-*.

*scans list for next item*                                                                                        

Moving on to economic and cultural deterioration, *clears throat* which is a controversial subject as it involves money, morality, modesty, increasing promiscuousness and (my parent’s favorite which they call -donning of loose fitting clothes-) the fashion sense of present day Naija males –low riding and tight fitting jeans (we boys are conservative in our dressing nau)- and  females -tube top, g-strings, bum shorts, brazilian etc-.

 Being a diplomat I’m gonna stay out of troubled waters (I can see that the ghels are already boiling, some bois sef don dey pout). Feel free to fill in the missing spaces on this topic …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… .

*crack neck, knuckes and ankles*

Finally, I know you’ve been very busy and have stayed away from facebook.com for some time, but pls let’s just perform a simple experiment: Log-on to your abandoned fb account, confirm one of the scores of friend request you’ve accumulated since you left and check out the profile of the peep whose request you confirmed. I’m sure you are gonna see updates and comments like the one found in the excerpt below:

Still ROFLMAOing? It’s something abi?

#Statistics: Did you know that 70% of Nigeria’s internet savvy youth are actively using facebook (it was discovered after a population survey conducted by LeonMacedon International Poll Organization, LIPO). These 70% constitute the ones writing such grammatical abominations.

 Let’s perform another experiment: Send the link of this post to your newly added friend and ask him/her what he/she thinks after reading it. The reply you get will be as these examples “too long”, “I couldn’t finish it” (these are d honest ones talking sha, most will reply with mono-syllabes like “lovely”, “nice”, “sweet”  -as if he/she could read further than the first paragraph-).

 Imagine, trying to explain grammatical concord to these surprisingly literate peeps, they gonna mistake it for that “Antique Mercedes Benz Concord” my Grandpops used to drive around town. You see Naija’s future leaders -These are the future leaders, pastors, teachers, waiters and 419’s of tomorrow.-

 I’ve gotta end this monologue now (laptop battery is at 12% #DarkAges). But I’m gonna leave this picture before I do.

 TEN YEARS AFTER….

The boy shyking a girl in the excerpt above is assigned to teach English Language to your daughter

*shudders*

 

 

 

* Backgroud Music (Styl-Plus -Imagine that) starts playing*

 

CURTAIN FALLS.

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