2015

If you feel you have shattered hopes, you aren't alone.
If you feel life is unfair, you aren't alone.
If you want to give up and run away from everything and start all over again,
You aren't alone.

If you can't help but wonder what the end to all of this is,
And why we have to  exist and fulfil purpose,
Don't assume only you have these thoughts,
Cos you aren't alone.

When the days turn to months and the months, years;
And black either seems white or grey,
Do realize that there is a Creator who turns lives around,
And changes certain stories and touched some lives.


In 2014, He changed mine and I know He changed yours too.
As the tides turn in 2015,
I hope you go against it, realizing,
You are not alone.

See you!

Hebrews 4:14-16

Merry Christmas

I hope the season brings peace
I hope you find solace knowing Someone truly cares
And that with Him, every problem you can share
And know at His feet, your burdens will be eased

I hope you learn to forget the joys and sorrows of your yesterdays
Only holding on to what God says
About what tomorrow will bring your way
I hope you get all you ask for when you pray

I wish you a merry Christmas
Filled with chicken, rice and dance
I hope it's all you've asked for and more
I hope you remember why indeed it's Christmas!

Jesus still CARES!!!
With love,

Feminny!

My Oyibo Boyfriend

I met him on a Tuesday and within some hours...butterflies kept dancing in my tummy! 

He's cute, nice and very funny. A bit witty, I'd add.

He looks at me with a kind of sparkle in his eyes. But it was just two weeks to behold this lovely view.

He once asked how Nigeria was, then I didn't know how to start.

Would I start with the fact that Nigerians never keep to time or the fact that their trams look as good as the Nigerian aircraft. Would I have been able to explain that "our people" from the east would have stolen the trackers on the trams and used them in their shops or that the guys who frequently checked if passengers had paid with their chip card would have been beaten more than once if they had tried it in naija.

How would I have explained that almost no social system works in Nigeria. Eventually I lied...through my teeth.

"Nigeria is so much fun! We are warm and very nice people. Nice weather, beautiful diverse cultural heritage"

Hopefully, he understands that by nice people I mean that he would be treated better than the average Nigerian will treat his neighbor, and that Mallams will exchange euros at a higher rate.

I taught him "pikin". I showed him where I was born on Google maps. 

"I'd come to Nigeria," he said. "Hope it won't be too much trouble"

"Ermm, I don't think so," I said.

Was he kidding? I wanted to jump and dance shoki! 

I hope he comes soon enough.

In case you see me on the road when I'm with him and ask "Babe, how far na? How market?"

Just know I would deny you with an accent that would make your head spin.

*sips Lipton*

You used to be dark.

You know how we only remember to buy generic stuff at the last minute? Anyway I was doing my chocolate and perfume shopping in one of the duty free shops when I saw her smiling and walking towards my direction I had to turn back to be sure she wasn't smiling at someone else. Hey Roman! So good to see you, wow it's been how long now? 10 years now right? How have u been? Did you come here on vacation? How long were you here for? I knew I had seen her face before, she looked so familiar but I couldn't quite figure from where. I smiled and responded to the few questions I could remember. At this point it was oblivious to her that I was struggling to remember her. 

Roman tell me you don't remember me? Then it clicked, Ashley! Are you kidding me? Ashley, Ashley from high school?! I blurted. Wow you look a lot different, you used to be chubby back in high school and.. and.. and you used to be dark (black) too. We did a lot of catching up and she talked a lot about how she had come here to school and was finally heading back home (Nigeria), interestingly she was open about the skin lightening program she had undergone here. We shuffled through Facebook looking for some of our old friends, I couldn't help but spot some other formerly dark people. Catching up brought back some old memories, soon our flight was announced, we exchanged contacts and said to keep in touch back in Nigeria. 

My flight was smooth but my brain was stuck on her drastic color change. While I agree she wasn't looking bad and I don't care to judge former-dark people, I need to say this, some of us still like our dark skinned, smooth chocolatey ladies. Imagine a world where Agbani Darego, Genevieve Nnaji or Tika Sumpter and their likes decide to go white?! I will simply become a priest!

P.s Don't forget to burn all the pictures from your past before you go light skinned.

To the rest of the world, save a little dark skin for me.

Roman.

A taste of Paris

After working hard through the year, I always reserve december as my month of other worldly pleasures. At least, that what I've done for the past 4 years with my returning friends looking for a december to remember.

1pm, Saturday 22nd of december, a call from my friend Loola, "Roman!!! I finally found your number, I got into lagos a few days ago and I finally succeeded in convincing some of my friends to do a week in nigeria this holiday. We are spending the week in orientals, boat cruise this evening by 6pm u don't wanna miss it and oh!, "I'm sure u still have cool friends, come with 2 or 3 of ur coolest Gs.. Ciao ciao" A quick call to Derrick, Wade and Kunle and I was good to go. 

Arrived at the hotel lobby and we were soon greeted by the best 6 packs ever, a pack of 'halle-berries' Loola screamed my name, a hug, two quick kisses, a flash of cherished memories and an introduction of both teams. 

In a moment, we were cruising on one of the most luxurious yatch  in lagos, belonged to Loola's billionaire dad. Played quick catch up with loola and right away I told her I was struck by one of her friends. Alexis was arguably the finest girl in the group but there was something about her that got my attention, she had an accent and didn't talk much she stood by the edge of the yatch taking pictures of lagos coastline at night. 

'Hi! I'm Roman, noticed you've been keeping to yourself, taking pictures and giggling, do u mind if I look through some of your snap shots?' 'Je ne parle pas tres bien anglais' she responded. A broad smile grew on my face, seems like the french classes I took last summer was about to pay off 'Je ne comprends qu'un peu le français'. This was perfect, a french girl that spoke little english and myself having spent a few hours learning to speak french.

Drinks sir? Yes please, two glasses of your finest french wine would be perfect. The rest of the evening was spent between incomplete sentences of both french and english, wild pictures, drunk games with the rest of the crew, dancing to silent tunes from the wind, loud chuckles and  a smooth ride back to the dock. She had dozed off on my chest for about 5 minutes. 

Finally we were back at the hotel, Loola gave me the 'knowing look' and went off to meet with her doctor boyfriend who had just closed from work. Alexis was still a bit tipsy and glued to my arm, an elevator ride to the 7th floor, now standing in front of her room, I moved to give her a goodnight hug, she held on tight and whispered 'voulez vous couche avec moi c'est nuite', I flinched, 'fuck me tonight, like true african' she made an attempt in english. 

I picked her up, put up the 'do not disturb' sign, in a matter of seconds we were butt naked, I saw her gasp as she gazed upon my member. I paused and decided I was gonna give her a night that words alone wouldn't be able to describe. I reached to the bedside fridge, brought out a cold bottle of champagne and strawberries, the stars must be in alignment tonight. 

FOREPLAY: I laid her size 6 frame down as I caressed her firm D-cupped tits with one hand, no wonder she hadn't worn a bra earlier. I sipped champagne off her navel making sure to play with her belly piercing, she moaned slowly as I was everywhere at the same time, kissing off strawberries in her mouth, sucking on her nipples, kissing her neck, and nibbling on her ears, now making a trip down to her french paradise. She picked up a small case, trading places,  shhhhh with a finger across her lips, she emptied the white content onto my chest, like a scene from the movies, that was cocaine, one sniff and I saw her pupils dilate, I have never been this close to the white devil. She sucked my nipples making sure to wipe off what was left on my chest. I kissed her and immediately felt the buzz of coke now on my lips.

With coke, wine, berries and a beauty that could only understand half the things I was saying,  I decided I was going all in, to talk less and and fuck more, the sex was such that would humiliate the authors of the kama sutra, we were in different positions, positions I never even knew the body was capable of. She wasn't the loud type but in those few hours I'm sure I must have heard all the french exclamations of pain and pleasure. She said 'please, mercy me' as I pounded away. 

We both passed out for about 3 hours, The morning came quickly, a quickie in the shower, a couple of pictures, kisses and I was dressed to go home, still feeling stoned I stopped for coffee at the cafe in the hotel lobby. In a few minutes I heard familiar voices, Kunle  and Wade , they had spent the night with their company, and had done good discharging them after basking in base deeds. I called out to them, guessing they must have met in the elevator, buzzed Derrick, He was also just leaving the room he had spent the night, coffee and we were all ready to go, no questions asked but I was certain everyone must have had a memorable night, 5 ladies and 4 guys, definitely, someone must have gotten an extra wheel.        

After years of giving others a December to remember, I finally gave myself one, a taste of Paris. Memories linger as I read the postcard she sent me, obviously, her english had improved 'happy new year to my African champion, from Paris with love. Alexis xoxo'

*memories from last December*

Roman

Phune People

It's December again, and as you have seen on Instagram, the "Phune" boys will be here (in naija) soon. 

They speak with an intonation that leaves you wondering what particular country you would trace their accent to. With the "init"s and "aii"s and all that brouhaha they seek to confuse us with.

There's nothing supernormal about Yankee. It's civilized yea, but they have poor people too, and pick pockets and community issues and every other vice common to the human race. So I wonder why we try so hard to dissociate ourselves from Nigeria's own issues. Famzing another man's land isn't going to make you non-Nigerian. Awe, you still come from one of the most corrupt nations in the world!

 I dare not try to compare Naija with any other developed nation but I dare to say I love my ewedu and amala, I love the fact that I can evade tax when I start my business...not like it's evasion though, I won't just pay...and I also won't feel guilty because the road to my house is full of pot holes and there's hardly power supply and I pay for almost everything the government should provide freely.

So as I was saying, I love the lawlessness and freedom, the fact that nobody minds their business, and everybody wants to know what's going on with you...just for the sake of knowing and comparison (at times)...yea..I love that we don't speak through our nose and that we have some kind of weird strength and hope for a better tomorrow all the while knowing tomorrow may not be better if we do not change our today.

I love the fact that we have proved Karl Marx right on his theory about religion being the opium of the people. I love the weather and NTA. Yea, I love NTA because it has shown me that you can be completely obsolete and irrelevant despite having all the resources to put you at the top of your game. Beautiful people, I must say.

Speaking phune is supposed to make you appear wealthy cause you can afford a flight ticket... Deep I must say. Dangote doesn't speak phune, yet I believe the white man can hear him loud and clear. They can hear me too, you know. And that's cause I speak clear English with the proper pronunciations, not Phune.

But how dare I attack you, it's all for the market sales...and really, that's fine, I won't judge trust me. Just take it easy though when you have to pronounce polysyllabic words, cause na there water go pass garri!

I love the fact that people roam aimlessly at Shoprite all with phune accents, all trying to act tush, most buying nothing, most looking for "customers".

Please, next time you see any of these weird "phune" fellows, ask them:

"So, how market?"

Note: awe means friend in Yoruba.

It Wasn't Part of The Plan

Our lives are defined by opportunities; even the ones we miss.

Benjamin Button: [Voice over; letter to his daughter] 

For what it's worth: it's never too late or,

In my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. 

There's no time limit, stop whenever you want.

You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. 

We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it.

And I hope you see things that startle you. 

I hope you feel things you never felt before. 

I hope you meet people with a different point of view. 

I hope you live a life you're proud of.

If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes we're on a collision course, and we just don't know it.

Whether it's by accident or by design, there's not a thing we can do about it. 

A woman in Paris was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her coat - went back to get it. When she had gotten her coat, the phone had rung, so she'd stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. 

While the woman was on the phone, Daisy was rehearsing for a performance at the Paris Opera House. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a taxi. Now a taxi driver had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped to get a cup of coffee. And all the while, Daisy was rehearsing.

And this cab driver, who dropped off the earlier fare; who'd stopped to get the cup of coffee, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier cab. The taxi had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. 

While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Daisy had finished rehearsing, and was taking a shower. 

And while Daisy was showering, the taxi was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn't been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot.

When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the cab, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Daisy was getting dressed. 

The delivery truck pulled away and the taxi was able to move, while Daisy, the last to be dressed, waited for one of her friends, who had broken a shoelace. 

While the taxi was stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Daisy and her friend came out the back of the theater. 

And if only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn't broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn't broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn't stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would've crossed the street, and the taxi would've driven by. But life being what it is - a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control - that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed.

It's None of My Business II

"Hi Remi, bawo ni? Its been long o. What are you doing here? What happened to your face?" I asked, half pretending not to know that her bobo worked in the same company as I.

"Nothing happened to my face. I fell down. Has Timi come to work this morning?" she asked as she held back tears.

"Not yet. Is everything..."

As Timi walked in, half heartedly answering the receptionist when Remi charged at him.

"Timi, so you knew you were HIV positive and still you made love to me without protection! So Mama B is actually your sugar mummy, I thought you said she was your Aunt. Hmmm, God will judge you o....God will...."

Remi broke down in tears, weeping uncontrollably. I didn't know whether to console her or whether to keep standing with my mouth agape.

I thought the worst had happened until Remi rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

__________

This gist would be whispered from office to office, from buka to buka and from state to state.

So, for the sake of it, be sure to tell whoever repeats this story to you that you've heard it before.

But more importantly, be sure to show that you have learnt, almost everything within your line of
sight is sort of your business.


Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Albert Camus

It's None of My Business I

Part I


Things had changed between Remi and me. We used to be great friends until recently.

---------

You see, I'm one to always mind my business.

As a guy, Mama taught me early enough to always speak less and observe more. It was this advice I was following when I landed in trouble. What happened? Chill, I would give you the gist. 

Remi and I were in the same class in school. In fact, everyone thought we were dating at some point. However, she told me I was a "great" friend when I asked her out. Two weeks after my proposal, she started dating some cool guy like that who drove a Range Rover sport. To say I was pained is to underestimate what I went through. People said I should face my work and find a babe on my level. I wanted to tell them God will punish them but I held back, choosing to allow God sort me out.

Somehow, during youth service, I got to serve in this her bobo's company, an insurance firm in Abuja.  

----------

"Tony see, wahala dey o," I said

"What is it??"  replied Tony,

" Remi's bobo is a gigolo o! There is this married lady whom he is...you know..."

"Wow, you need to tell Remi...abi?"

"I would have, but you see, it's none of my business" 

-----

Maybe I should have made it my business, because when Remi found out, it was too late. Too late to ...

Danfo Drama

That night, the trip was from Obalende to Yaba. The bus had no conductor, only an angry driver. I had boarded the bus after leaving the endless queue awaiting the arrival of the BRT bus.

The rickety bus moved with so much noise, I feared it would pack up unexpectedly. With tongue in cheek, I browsed BellaNaija, admiring the latest fashion collection from one WeizDhurm Franklyn. Talented guy, I mused.

Luckily for us, on that day, the traffic on the third mainland bridge was not so bad.

"Ejo, e funmi  lowo, two hundred per seat. E se kia kia!!!" hissed the driver.

As expected, everyone shouted in outright disapproval.

"For what?"

"Ole Gambia!!!"

"Two hundred naira ko, two million ni!"

"Mi o ri aye oshi"

I wondered how the drama was going to end.

When we got to the middle of the bridge, the driver whistled as he stopped the bus. He came down, opened the door and asked everyone to come down.

Whether it was fear that gripped us or sheer tiredness from our day's hardwork, everyone grudgingly begged him to collect N150.

He finally succumbed and took the money from each passenger before starting the engine again.

Less than 1km after, the engine grinded to a halt.

"Oga, kilode?" we asked

"Kosi fuel. Emabinu!"

Whether it was anger or sheer frustration that filled my eyes with tears, I couldn't place my hands on it.

In other news, if you see any driver named Bashiru at Obalende, please slap him for me.

Lessons From Some Series

So if you are a girl, there would be a pang to be a mother, a wife and both at the same time even though you might just want a breath of fresh air, you won't have that liberty! (House of Cards, Desperate Housewives)

Of all the needs common to animals - food, sex, love, family, shelter - humans cap it all up with the need to betray. (Game of Thrones)

There can never really be peace on the outside. You've either just won a battle, or you are preparing for one (Game of Thrones)

Never trust him whom you so much trust. Behind every smile is an untold story, and behind every family is a dark secret. (Game of Thrones, House of Cards)

If there is any gross, malignant or sick thing you have imagined, there's a 80% chance, someone has done it. (Criminal Minds)

Doctors are often SICK people! Whether emotionally or psychologically, most have a nut screwed weirdly in their heads. (Greys Anatomy)

No one has "it" together. If Harvey Specter can punch someone in the face, then you, my dear can fight in public. The right person hasn't yanked your tail yet, hold on, it's coming! (Suits)

Have any more ideas? Please share.

Xoxo

Author: Stacia

Airport Palava

The day would come when things would be done properly.

When the air conditioners at the airport will work 

When the operations manager would inform me before changing my flight schedule

And Barotoma would not deafen my ears

And fear will not seize my heart for the one hour I share with the clouds

That day will come

The day would come when plane crashes due to human error will not be a normal news headline

And the minister of aviation would not blame God

And the people will not blame the government

And the government will not blame the people

That day will come

The day will come when Nigerians will treat each other with respect

And the attendant on the booking desk will not attend to the white man,

(Who interrupts our discussion), in a locally acquired foreign accent,

With a smile which quickly becomes a frown when she turns back to me

The day will come when with love, things will be done properly

We live...To Die Empty

So I went to the market to buy a live chicken, which was of course, killed by the seller. Apart from the bitter woman who parked directly in front of me and insulted the life out of me when I asked her to move her "keke", there was something intriguing I observed.

"Madam, which one you wan buy?" asked the butcher as he held out two squeaking chickens on both hands.

"Give me the one on the left hand," I said

And with that instruction, he dropped the other back in the cage.

Whilst he killed the chicken, the others in the cage continued as though nothing had happened, as though the chicken, whom I'd like to call Ngozi, had not just died.

And then it hit me. So many people die everyday, a few make the news, a few leave their world a better place.

As the year runs to an end(...yea...runs cause it's as though the clock is in some kind of competition with Usain Bolts)... I reminisce on the deaths of quite a  number of celebrities this year: Robin Williams, Joan Rivers,  Paul Walker,  Kefee, Myles Munroe, Chaz B,  Nelson Mandela, Justus Esiri etc

I don't  think I've covered  half the list of people whose life works touched you and me one way or the other. But then try to think about how life has continued, with their memories serving only as embers from the past.

Morale of my story: enjoy life, worship your Creator  and always remember that the day of your death ought to be better than the day of your birth. (Ecclesiastes 7:1)

A bachelors thanksgiving

As a young man growing up, I had basic comfort at every point in time. I had a decent 'cortina by Bata' shoe like everyone else, I even had my kito and cross-trekkers sandals unlike our president who 'had no shoes growing up'. Fast forward a few years  and here I am, living thousands of miles away from home, working a decent job, living a rather decent life too. It was thanksgiving day for a few people on the 27th of this month and my old boys association decided to send me a mail extending warm greetings and the usual banter. The mail had a funny paragraph though, they told me not to bother returning the award I won earlier this year 'most eligible bachelor' because the foresee I will still be the one next year.

Sitting alone in my house I decided to write this to express my gratitude, while I'm thankful for life, family and the good people all around me, I decided to extend that gratitude to the inanimate things that have made my life much enjoyable this past few years.

My Car.

My 3.0L V6 baby, you have made commuting very easy, you have protected me from the harsh sun and the constant rainfall in this city. The numerous potholes and flooded routes were no match for you. Through my early morning drive to work and my late night movements you have not for once broken down and left me stranded. Between the sounds from your speakers, the climate control and the heated leather seats you have served me comfortably and for that I'm thankful.

My refrigerator, microwave, juicer and dishwasher.

You have kept me properly nourished and taken care of my need to stay healthy. You all have worked together to achieve this. Special thanks to the microwave, many people try to paint you in a bad light, saying the healthy meals you give me can cause cancer and I ask them, what in the world does not cause cancer these days? I hear no reply.

My washing machine, drier and pressing iron.

You all have kept me good looking. You have saved me from the horror I lived through in boarding school where I had to bend my back washing clothes endlessly only to spread them in the hot sun and have rain ruin everything again. Once again, special thanks to the drier, Ignorant people will talk endlessly of how you shrink and damage clothes. I have used you for nearly 4 years now and all my clothes are still intact. It all boils down to getting the right settings.

My Tv, game console and sound system.

Though the years, you have kept me and my friends entertained. Never a dull moment with all of you. Oh and thanks for helping me disturb the neighbors whenever they piss me off.

My workout equipment.

You all give me a tough time, you have kept my organs fit and my body sculpted like a true roman. Thank you for not making me look like a baggage handler in the process.

My bed.

Thanks for being there to sooth my aching body every single night when I get back home, the comfort of those sheets make me feel like pharaoh sometimes. With your big size I am constantly reminded of the need to get a permanent resident in here 'I'm working on that'.

Now to all of you reading this, we all have more than a billion reasons to be thankful. 

Happy thanksgiving!

Roman.

P.s to the doormat, thanks for keeping out the dirt.

Friday Frills

Whatever your mind can conceive and believe it will achieve.
Dream great dreams and make them come true. Do it now.
Never affirm self-limitations.
What you believe yourself to be, you are.

To accomplish great things, you must not only act, but also
dream, not only plan but also believe.
If you have built castles in the air your work need not be lost -
Put foundations under them.


You can always better your best.
You do not know what you can do until you try.
Nothing will come of nothing. if you don't go out
on a limb, you're never going to get the fruit.
There is no failure except in no longer trying.


Defeat may test you, but it need not stop you.
If at first you don't succeed, try another way.
For every obstacle there is a solution.
Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.
The greatest mistake is giving up.


Wishing will not bring success but planning, persistence and a burning desire will.
There is a goldmine within you from which you can extract all of the necessary ingredients.
Success is an attitude. Get yours right...
Now go out and show off the colours of your rainbow.

Kermit Friday!!!

Have a fun  weekend ahead. New series starts tomorrow! 

I Choose To Move On!

1. Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, lets go of negative emotions such as vengefulness, with an increased ability to wish the offender well.

   
   

   

   
   

Normally, I'd say I really don't care about issues like forgiveness. But then, I've come to realize that the fact that you will die one day is enough reason to forgive your neighbor.

That's because when you are gone, it wouldn't matter whether the person apologized or not, or whether you were able to pay the person back in his own coin. What will matter is whether your heart died, wounded.

Wounded with the words of others, words that bordered on issues that you would rather not talk about, words that pinched on where it hurt the most.

Wounded with betrayal on the day you least expected from the one you least expected. The one you would have taken a bullet for, happened to be the one holding the gun.

Wounded by life, itself. By the times opportunities slipped to an "unworthy" neighbor or the times death snatched those you thought you would never be able to do without. By the painful realization that life would go on no matter what.

But whether good or bad, everyone has a fair share of reasons why they would never remain the same again.

And whether you realize this or not, life is programmed to bring offenses your way. Whether you are sitting in a cave, picking your tooth with your leg crossed minding your own business or you are at Ojuelegba struggling for a bus, offenses will come. What matters is how quickly you let go and MOVE ON!

In summary, dear visitor, as you go on your journey, remember to travel light.

To All Those Who Refuse To Be Mediocre....

It's almost midnight on my almost favourite day of the week: Saturday! It's the day I can waste the most. I can wake up late (after sleeping late on Friday night) and sleep late as well (Sunday morning will suffer it). No other day like that...early morning wake up on weekdays demands early night retirement...although I think the concept of rest is more psychological than consequential.

Digression.

It's past midnight now. Had to feed Buffy. And clean up her mess. Sigh. Nothing good comes easy. Nothing comes easy.

I've been watching an interesting series recently (I'm sure I'm one of the last people to, unless you are behind me. :o tsk tsk tsk). 

'Gidi Up'.

The effort put into this Nigerian series is amazing, Everything has been done to make sense. From lighting, sound, picture, acting, script, location, etc. Even the extras in the cast do  great job!

I've sort of given up on Nollywood. It's been too insulting for my intelligence to bear. That notwithstanding, I know a good thing when I see one. And 'Gidi Up' is great!

The bigger significance? 'Cos surely all this can't be, just for a TV show? Well, no. 

The point here is that in our everyday lives or endeavours, challenges exist (piracy, hard economy, cost optimisation for instance in Nollywood). And it is okay to accept these challenges and deliver like the rest of the crowd. But certain people (Gidi up) step out of the comfort zone to deliver something extraordinary! And they prove to the rest of the world that it is possible to do just that despite the challenges.

Trying not to sound paid for all this "torch-lighting" on 'Gidi Up', a few others in this same industry I know have beat the odds are Kunle Afolayan (at least 3 times), the 'Spider' series, 'Bachelors' started quite well as well.

I know not if these outliers made money out of their outstanding delivery, nor if it was as much as the average shoot-this-movie-in-3-days Nollywood flick would have made but I must say that their effort to break mediocre has been worth it for me.

So, this is my toast to all those who try to make it past basic. All those who make an extra effort to be better, above the average. Kudos. This post may not add to your ledger entries, but I promise to famz you all once I find an opportunity  :D

Dear Reader, it's okay if you are comfortable with your everyday now. But my 2 cents? Break mediocre! Gidi Up!!!

Rays From An Eclipsed Sun IV

While she was still trying to get over the shock of the new revelation, when Tony's best friend called for her. The doctor had news for them.

Tabade had died, Tinu had survived. But she may never be able to use her legs again, the doctor said.

------

Tinu explained how she had felt uncomfortable with the lies Sam had fed Tabade. And how she had had feelings for him for a while.

Rays From An Eclipsed Sun. III

On the evening when Tabade's bestie brought the news, Sam joined him to LUTH.

Tony's ping came in just as she sat in the waiting room outside the ICU. She told him what had happened
and he said he would be on his way.

The air was thick with a mix of various odours. The accident and emergency section
was chaotic with both accident victims and fatally sick people being wheeled in. The ambulance alarm refused to stop.
Apparently, Tabade had collided with a "God is Good" bus, 22 people were involved.

An unknown number survived.

-----------


"Madam, will you stop shouting! Do you think you are in your backyard or what?"
Please contain yourself!" screamed a nurse. The woman's bones were shooting out of a joint in her leg.
Sam could not understand why the nurse had to be so cruel.

Apparently, all the nurses were cut from the same fabric. And life in itself  had dealt an unfair deal to too
many.

The screams from the sickle cell patients undergoing their crisis  made Sam shudder. She wept. She wasn't sure whether it was the
sympathy she felt for the patients or the deplorable state
of the Nigerian health care system, whatever it was, she knew it weighed heavy on her.

It was as she strolled outside the hospital to recieve some fresh air that Tony arrived. He hugged her and then sat down with her.

"Sam, I need you to be strong, okay?"

"Yea, I am. I'm trying to, I mean its hard you know. They won't even let us see them", she said as she forced a smile.

"This may not be the perfect time but there's something I need to show you"

He handed her his phone, the browser had a blog opened.

-----------

"Sam! Samantha!", Tony shook her out of the shock.

Tony went on to explain how he had gotten the link on his bbm
group. The gist accompanying the link was about how Lagos babes lie
and try to trap men. Sam's journal was scanned and used as a case study.
Sam's full name was mentioned, along with Tabade's.

The blog post was written by one UNIT.

Rays From An Eclipsed Sun II

Tinu worked in Ikoyi too. She had soon become used to greeting Sam in the traffic jams on third mainland bridge every other morning after their chance meeting at a wedding.

Soon, they became close friends and even started pooling each other's cars.

------

Tabade had truly been a breath of fresh air. In fact, he became the only reason why Sam had a smile on her face these days.

Weeks after their meeting, Tinu joined them more frequently for dinner and movies.

"Babes, why must Tinu join us this evening again?" asked Tabade.

"Ahan, you know she would be very lonely now. I'd work around this next time, ok?" replied Sam.

Tinu soon became a part of the fold.

------

Tony had wanted to talk to her for a while now. He knew Tabade had come across her journal and wanted to tell her.

Tabade had found out that not only was she 4 years older than she admitted, she also could not bear children.

Tinu had given Tabade the journal.

Rays From an Eclipsed Sun. I

Part 1

The sun rays made her half dyed hair glow. Soon, she would be at the car park and then on her way home.

Life would continue as it always did. Confusing. The headline news on most blogs that morning carried news of one Dr Myles Munroe. Sad event, she mused. But then as always, life must go on.

She reminisced on her early days in the university. On how Tekena had left her for her best friend after making her undergo three abortions. She no longer appealed to him, she heard. He did not have the guts to say this to her face.

As she approached the car park, Tony honked at her.

"Sam, I've been trying to reach you all week"

"Good night Tony, I'd call you this eve, inugo?"

Driving home, she listened to MI ft Waje's One Naira, If only Tekena had understood that it wasn't ever about money, but about her sincere love for him.

But then what made her wet her pillows that night wasn't the loss of Tekena, but the betrayal of Voke, her then bestie.

She remembered the sharp pain she felt, years after university, when she saw a bbm contact update his profile with "Happy Married Life Tekena"...he had married Voke.

....

Tabade's call came in some minutes before 11pm.

"Am I on to Sam?"
"Yea, who is this?"
"It's Tabade, the guy who tried to toast you last Wednesday at Shoprite, remember me?"
"Ohhh, yea I do? Bawoni?"
"Haha, so you speak yoruba?


They connected. She blushed at the thought of the breath of fresh air Tabade would bring into her life.

She would watch her weight now and put on more makeup. She would dye her hair back to normal, again.

Women, Wives and Mothers...

Growing up, I had always wondered why we had different days dedicated to the celebration of Mothers. Fast forward 20th of February 2012 my first real job at a big company, I had picked out 3 shirts the night before not knowing which I will eventually settle for. 5am, the alarm rings through the mornings peace, I have heard too much about rush hour traffic so I decided to set out of the house by 6am for resumption at 8. "Hope you have everything you need for your first day!" that was my mum, yes mother I'm sorted! I replied. "I made a sandwich for you, you may be hungry before lunchtime" mum I'm alright!, I whispered to myself "I don't want to be the new guy with a food flask at the office"a quick hug and I went out the door. 9:30 and the hunger was real. I could hardly concentrate anymore, I wish I had taken the sandwich, it was then I realized that almost everyone else had some form of meal arrangement or the other. The rest of the day after lunch was fine and before I could say FASHOLA it was 5pm official closing time. Like everyone else I lingered till about 5:30pm before leaving the office. Ikoyi-3rd mainland axis was a nightmare and I was right at the center of it. Is this not the road I cover in less than 20 minutes every weekend. The crawl through traffic was excruciating, I had been over my playlist twice I had to turn it off. I finally got home around 8:30pm absolutely knackered, straight to my room, took a shower, packed my bag for the next day, I heard her come come in some minutes after I did. All I could remember was waking up Tuesday morning for the same routine, but this time around I happily took my breakfast pack to work. Saturday morning at the gym was when it occurred to me how strong this woman was, with 4 grown up children and a husband, she caters to us all, makes breakfast for those who want, resumes at her office like everyone else with daily tasks and targets, comes back home and prepares dinner for everyone. I was too lazy to eat dinner all through the week how much more the person that had to cook every evening. Shout out to all the good women all around the world. I 'Roman' hereby declares today, the day after and the next day as Mother's Day.

Roman Payne...

Rays from an Eclipsed Sun. Prologue

Prologue.

Tabade never came to pick her up later than planned. He never did. The time read 9:05 pm and still, he was nowhere to be found. Samantha paced around the room, trying his number over and over again; still she could not reach him.

She pinged her best friend Tinu, to nag again about how Tabade had recently changed towards her but the pings did not deliver.

She pulled her off shoes and earrings. Sitting by the vanity mirror, she stared into an almost perfect reflection of beauty. Beauty which perfectly masked the hurt she felt on the inside.

She remembered the poems by one @scarville on twitter and a certain deep sadness swelled on the inside. She quickly wiped the tears off her eyes as she heard the knock on the door. It was Tabade’s best friend, really strange she thought.

As she ushered him in, he suddenly held her tight as he delivered the news;

“Tabade and Tinu were involved in a ghastly accident!”

Blackness!

All the masks in my world

All the darkness in me

In search of one star

To make me breathe again

To make me see again

                                                                twitter: @scarville 

November 2014

So every day, I'm thinking of how to turn this blog into what I want it to be. And I'm slowly but surely getting  there.

I came across a certain writer whose works I am going to focus on when writing this next story. A deep, deep writer.

The world is full of so many stories and I really hope to be able to perfectly combine some pretty interesting chronicles into this one story all in honour of this writer.

The next story is titled, "Rays From an Eclipsed Sun". As usual, I am going to write the story in bits and pieces.

To the writer whom I owe this honour, I hope you find the pieces worthy of your ingenious works of art.

Let the story begin...

All my goodbyes didn't know how to leave you behind...

Proverbs 7: You were WARNED!!!

To all my guy-men out there (including myself)...

I really could't have put it better myself. And i really couldn't edit the bible, so please pay attention especially to the emboldened verses.

'Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,”
    and to insight, “You are my relative.”
They will keep you from the adulterous woman,
    from the wayward woman with her seductive words.

At the window of my house
    I looked down through the lattice.
⁷ I saw among the simple,
    I noticed among the young men,
    a youth who had no sense.
⁸ He was going down the street near her corner,
    walking along in the direction of her house
⁹ at twilight, as the day was fading,
    as the dark of night set in.

¹⁰ Then out came a woman to meet him,
    dressed like a prostitute and with crafty intent.
¹¹ (She is unruly and defiant,
    her feet never stay at home

…
¹³ She took hold of him and kissed him
    and with a brazen face she said:

…
¹⁵ So I came out to meet you;
    I looked for you and have found you!
¹⁶ I have covered my bed
    with colored linens from Egypt.
¹⁷ I have perfumed my bed
    with myrrh, aloes and cinnamon.
¹⁸ Come, let’s drink deeply of love till morning;
    let’s enjoy ourselves with love!
¹⁹ My husband is not at home;
    he has gone on a long journey.
²⁰ He took his purse filled with money
    and will not be home till full moon.”

²¹ With persuasive words she led him astray;
    she seduced him with her smooth talk.
²² All at once he followed her
    like an ox going to the slaughter,
like a deer stepping into a noose
²³     till an arrow pierces his liver,
like a bird darting into a snare,
    little knowing it will cost him his life.

²⁴ Now then, my sons, listen to me;
    pay attention to what I say.
²⁵ Do not let your heart turn to her ways
    or stray into her paths.
²⁶ Many are the victims she has brought down;
    her slain are a mighty throng.
²⁷ Her house is a highway to the grave,
    leading down to the chambers of death!'

I know. You already know this. Lol. It is a reminder. 

It's Friday evening. I have an appointment tonight. She did not explicitly tell me verse 18... but you know how this thing goes.

Am I an Ox heading to my slaughter? #Sigh.

Strange Faces. Epilogue

"Nosaaaaa...oh no...Nosa who did this to you?" I asked. As long as I remember, this has been the question on my mind.

As the nurse injected me once more, I had the same dream I had been having for some nights now.
Mama had died from shock. My lawyer had pleaded mental insanity hence I was admitted to a psychiatric home. I had murdered four cultists.

"Take me to Ugbowo campus!" I shouted just as I woke up from the nightmare.

There was no cab guy to answer me this time, only stares from strange faces
.
If you go to Okada Mental home in Benin, you will hear the story of a girl named Rose. She was a cultist, now she's a prisoner.

Strange faces.III

Part 3.

I explained everything to Tony. I also told him I had nowhere to run to since my mother will never accept me back. I was so sure she would say I was a bag of trouble. Afterall, Nosa was in her final year in the same school without any issues.

"Ah Rose, this one na serious one o. The only way to protect yourself right now is to join a cult," said Tony.

The initiation ceremony was horrifying. They flogged me till I passed out. But then I was safe with these new friends though they were strange faces.

"14 missed calls?! Why does Nosa want to kill my battery," I asked myself. I called back but her line was switched off. "If only I was still staying on campus, I'd have dashed down to her room, later sha."
I'm in a cab to Ugbowo campus. I'm going to see if truly Tony was seeing well when he said he saw Nosa's corpse lying at the faculty.

If only this cab guy would stop me. I'm about to start a war.

‪

Strange Faces. II

Part 2.

All of us had agreed there would be neither squatters nor male visitors. We also agreed that our female visitors should not sit on the bed of other room mates. Nonye passed the motion and I seconded it.

"Nonye what's the meaning of this? I mean did I ask you to choose the upper bed? I thought we agreed to not allowing male visitors? So what's this ratchety fellow doing in the room? On top of my bed for that matter?!" I was furious.

Why is she trying to signal to me? I mean does she now think I'm deaf and dumb??
I went on and on about how I had suffered to get a hostel space and how I did not want anyone to inconvenience me.

Nonye and I did not go to the reading room together that night. She was still angry with me though she seemed bothered about something bigger than our fight.

Just as Nonye was walking out of the hostel, NEPA restored power.

"Nonye I think say you and Rose dey fight? Why you com wear her cloth?" Shouted Titi as she chewed her last biscuit while looking through the window to the main road. We all laughed and said Nonye was too peaceful to hold a grudge.

"They've killed Rose ooo. Those cult guys ehhhh. There's a crowd at Ekenwan road right now. I recognized her cloth. Her face looked disfigured! I hear say she dey rude to the Capone wey com visit her roommate. Dat girl no dey hear word..." narrated the girl from the other wing.

As I heard her from the bathroom, I knew it was time to pack my things.

Strange Faces. I

Part 1.

"Mama, I just gained admission to study in Uniben!" I exclaimed. After seven years of writing JAMB I finally made it.

My mother is a widow. My father died in the civil war. She often says that Nosa and I are all she's got. She often says that only the tough get going in life.

"Better be careful o Rose. You know you are a jambite. I mean did you hear of what cult boys did to that medical student last week? They raped her and threw her body into that bush path. The one in Ekenwan road naa...didn't you hear??? "asked Tony.

I heard. He could not understand why I seemed so cold. You see, the girl in question was my bunk mate.

Strange Faces. Prologue

"Ugbowo! Ugbowo Campus! Sisi u no dey go? " Shouted the cab man. My thoughts were far gone. "I dey go Oga, no vex," I said.

If only he had a moment to listen. I'd have told him I was not a sisi. I'd have told him to stop me ; to shoot me if possible.

If you've not met me, my name is Rose and I'm a cultist.

What a Week!

“**#!#%&@*!” A string of expletives comes out of my mouth as the alarm shatters my sleep. Monday morning! Again!

“Aaargh!” Sigh. I drag myself into the bathroom, groping in the dark. Somehow, my brain refuses to send the commands for my eyes to open fully. It’s probably still trying to enjoy the last lingering sweetness of sleep.

“**#!#%&@*!” Another string explodes as the cold water hits my face. My brain is awake now. I rushed my shower and was back in the room in no time. My brain starts to think of what to wear. An intelligent brain I have, but a lazier body. I know, from the bottom of my heart, that figuring out what you’ll wear in the morning the previous night can save you 30 minutes of dressing time. But I refuse to! Am I cursed? I say my prayers.

Sigh. I drag out clothes though. And a pair of shoes. Check. It looks neat. No need to shine them. Clean socks (don’t mess with athlete’s foot I remind myself). Dress up. Overdose myself with perfume. Why bother? I don’t even perceive them by the time I get to my car. Sigh. I pray other people do even up till close of work.

Rev my lovely mercedes’ engine. She’s old but she’s an awesome piece of engineering. Sally. She has taken me places. So when people ask “who drives this museum artefact?” I just wink at her. They’ll never understand.
Get to work. Pray to find parking space that is close enough to the office but won’t damage my career (parking in your bosses’ spot would do exactly that!). I’m 30 minutes early and I manage to occupy the last spot in the “nearest” space for people like me. Yea, that red camry behind me can’t park here…I took the last slot.

In the office now. What do I do? That’s story for another day. Most of my work is supposed to be on the field though so if it looks like I don’t have anything to do in the office, please don’t tell HR.
Looking up some office babes on the company network. Office babes. Hmm. Sounds tempting. Like the fantasies we had back in our broke school days. Dating a working class chic. Hmm. My friend recently got threatened by his banker chic – now ex. She was going to acidize his face if he tried to collect the expensive phone he had bought for her just before she dumped him. He had been totally played. She’d monitored his accounts and then flirted her way into his life. Sigh. What is the world turning into?

Fantasies don’t ever cover the minor details… for instance that a working class chic would still ask for N10,000 monthly maintenance fee from her boyfriend. Nor that that fair maiden you were breaking your head for would rather hang out with your boss. Hush. Don’t think about it too much. Just shake your head and keep fantasizing. Hmm. Mary is online. Should I…. Oh. There’s an email. Excel sheets! Lawd NOooooooooo!!!

Tuesday. Wednesday. Same. Thursday. Is today Friday? No. Sigh. Same. Friday!!! Yaaay! No night events this weekend. Sleep! Real chilling is when you have no alarm to wake up to. Watching tv. My phone rings. Gurl from Uniport. The rest of the evening is story for another day. Respect the school, that’s the point here.

Saturday. Sports club. 10am. A few good friends. That’s really all we need here on earth. A few good friends. We play lawn tennis. Maybe I should call it tennes because it’s nothing like what is seen on tv with the Nadals and Williams. Professional amateurs we are! But we have fun. And then table tennis. More fun. 4 pm. Everyone heads home. Some of us would have body pains for days.

Sunday. My birthday. I’m really shy about things like these. So I hardly tell people just before. Special apologies to Ify. I get loads of calls and messages. I’m sure I won’t read the ones on facebook for instance. Gave up trying to reply them all years ago. But it does make you appreciate yourself and people around you. A few of my friends come to the house too. I laugh even more pains into my body. Lord I thank You for my life and the life of the people I know. A toast to how far we’ve come!
“**#!#%&@*!” Monday morning! Again!



Written by Kenzo.

The Thread That Connects Us All.

She would never see me that way. She recently just said she sees me as a brother, I honestly wonder where that came from. Not that I'm angry, no I'm not. Ok, maybe a little pissed. Not at her but at the circle of life.

Rosemary just called me to her office, she said she had something to say. As I watched her fiddle with her hair, I imagined what could possibly make her so nervous. "There's something I've always wanted to tell you Osita..."

I went blank. I honestly thought we were really cool as friends because she had often teased me about Rolake and the other chics that easily caught my attention. I mean... It was just weird sha. So I told her I didn't know what to say because I did not see her that way. But that we would always be friends so there was no need for any "awkwardness".

So as you may have guessed, that was the last time she spoke to me. I tried to keep in touch but all I got were monosyllabic responses bathed with sublime hatred. I finally heard from a friend of hers that I led her on. See wahala o!

When Rolake told me she sees me as a brother, I remembered the look on Rosemary otherwise perfectly rounded face. It was one of confusion. One of despair.

I would never be hers, Rolake would never be mine. And if I do not find "THE ONE", I would settle for whatever the puppet master strings.

It's Monday and November. November is usually better than September, so have a great new month ahead!

A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. V

Part 5. The End.

As Sister Nela ushered Senior Obiora and me into the convent's meeting room, I heaved a sigh of relief. At least now I would have a chance to explain myself. Now I would get justice, I said to myself.

"Anita, you have broken the school rules o. How dare you call the head boy by name? I mean, who gave you the right to walk into the senior's block at this time of the day? Shouldn't you be at prep? You know these things are not allowed. We clearly stated that such blatant disobedience leads to expulsion. I have no choice but to do so. I mean, it's unheard of," said Sister Nela.
I could not believe my ears. As tears freely rolled down my cheeks, I mustered words amidst broken chords.

"Senior Obiora abused me physically, Sister. I am pregnant for him. He wrote those letters that were found in my box, I just found out today because Dumebi knows his writing; he tutors science students in Physics. She is a science student Sister..." I choked; the pain was too much to bear.

"He knew I had reported him to Father Henry hence the conspiracy to get me expelled. I believe Father Henry told you this that day at the assembly. I don't know why I am the only one getting expelled, I don't understand. Where is Father Henry, he would vouch for me
I received a letter from my House Mistress the following morning. I had been expelled. "This is unusual o Anita, why dem no announce your offence for assembly as dem dey do before na. Wetin happen sef? Wetin you do?" she probed.

"I called the Head boy by name. He gave me a child. The school will rather part with the gifted than with the rich. I would survive Ma."

My aunt sent me back to the village to give birth to stay with my grandma. Three months later, I lost the pregnancy. I was however determined to continue my education and become the lawyer I had always wanted to be.

How I graduated from law school is all history now. As a high court judge, I need to be objective in this case of manslaughter, it's The State against one Obiora Omelora.
My clock tells me it's five minutes before I change my scarf to a wig. I just penned down my judgement on a pad and pulled off my glasses.
I know God will forgive me.

The End.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

(JRR Tolkien)

A pen. A pad. A scarf. My glasses. The clock. IV

Part 4

I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the prefects' lounge. There he was.

"How could you.. do this Obiora, how dare you?! I'm carrying your baby!", I screamed just as my palm landed on his face.
The room was dead silent. It was common knowledge that my aunt worked as a janitor in Senior Obiora's house. I usually assisted her during the holidays. You see, his father was a diplomat ; he belonged to the untouchables. On the other hand, I am an orphan with no one in this world except my aunt.

She couldn't quit her job at the diplomat's house just because Obiora raped me. She just could not. "How will I survive Anita? Please abort the baby, " she explained. "The rich always win my dear. Soon you will realise that. It's just how life is".

I had told Father Henry of my predicament during my last confession two months before. He promised to help and support me. He said he loved me and did not mind going against the tides to prove it. He lied.
When blackmail and politics shook his castle, it appeared it hung solely on the air.

P.S.: Watch out for the next one. It's the last part!

The Lady in Red Shoes...

It wasn't a regular Monday, I didn't have to snooze the alarm clock over and over, matter of fact I woke up before it rang. I kicked off with 150 push-ups and a 30 minutes burn session on the thread mill, in and out of the shower, dressed and sanctified with a few shots of creed. The drive to the office was however very typical, everyone was in a rush this morning with kekenapes and taxis stopping square in the middle of the road to drop off and pick up passengers.

My Yanni album has always helped me maintain my cool in traffic, within minutes I was heading to my car park and that was when it happened, the earth stopped for a moment and everything faded away, every single thing except her, everything except the lady in red shoes. Her steps were so graceful, she looked lost and was without a care in the world, it felt like a scene from your favorite Spanish soap opera. The moment lingered and by reflex my foot was already on the brake pedal, I have seen beauty in it's purest form in time past but this was different, before I could arrange my thought train, I was brought back to reality with the honking of the murano behind me. I caught a glimpse of a smile on her face as she walked away..

Will I ever see her again?
Will I ever see you again?

The lady in red shoes...