Sunday, December 16, 2007

Kamikaze on a careful level

DISCLAIMER: This happened many years ago. I now consider it a shameful error in judgment. The writing style is deliberately awkward. I really do hope not everyone understands what transpired below.




Was listening to Olu maintain’s yahoozee. Besides the catchy tune, I did notice that just at the start he says ‘kamikaze on a careful level’. I’m hopelessly useless at accurately deciphering lyrics from songs so there is a good chance he said something entirely different. In addition, I have no idea if he uses the Japanese word in the regular sense or if it has been modified radically and remade as a 9ja slang. Whatever the case, the phrase tossed me down memory lane and I decided to blog some of them thoughts.





RRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!

My alarm slammed me into consciousness. Two breaths, vision back to focus. Was certainly awake, not dreaming. Dreaming to be awake never feels this real. My heart paced normally. Was not sweating. Most certainly not feeling that yawa-go-soon-gas type vibe you get when u sense imminent danger. Cannot explain the absence of shaky nerves.

Look at watch. Twas the D-day alright. 6am. 3 hour countdown. Made a mental plan; freshen up, head down school, locate the client…



*knock knock*

Chi-boy: OBOY How FAR!! You don wake? Na Chi-boy. Oboy, wakeup! wakeup!

*knock knock*

Lonely: I dey come.



Second glance at clock, compare with watch, it really is 6am. This dude must be working his nerves silly. Should the client be this jittery? Should I be so coma-calm? What are the implications for the likelihood of success? It was my first time. I know I can’t answer these questions, but the mind needs to stay active, needs to stay on top of things, considering every potential grain of sand in the garri.

I open up. The client is a panicky mess. Delivering a steady stream of incoherent yarns. Repeating, gesturing, racing and totally out of sync with his senses. The only thing I recall hearing was “it starts by nine oh! Lets go, lets go. It starts by nine”. I think to myself “dude, you’ve sanctified me with that fact every other day since I took up your offer about a fortnight ago”. I shut him off mentally. Routine preening. We head down school.

Light breakfast. Loads of caffeine. Anything to keep those neurons firing at top speed. Hung around ‘ground zero’. Being two sets ahead of the client, I didn’t know his classmates. However, a little reconnaissance revealed the venue was typical. Same rules, same patterns emerging. Different factions doing what they must. The intellectual-blondes being invitingly friendly to their antithesis hoping to hit the jackpot come 9am. The super-Effikos in groups regurgitating/validating hours of cram work. The quasi-desperate clogging up every Zerox machine in sight, replicating texts written with characters well within the nanoscale upper-limit yet fabricated by the human hand. And then the totally desperate, the clients. I can spot them even from a neighboring galaxy, perspiring and failing at their attempts to keep a straight face. Plagued with a total lack of confidence in their abilities, they outsource all brain-functions to the Machines.

The Machines, rogue Effikos, grandmasters in the art of stealth. Self proclaimed local polymaths. They don’t show up in the patterns. Radar unfriendly. Lease braintime for a nominal fee. Atypical to hang around the venue till it was just time. And even if they did, they were the ones buying groundnut, the dude walking by with purpose, they were the everyday guy, the background.

9am. It was time, I had the yam, I had the knife but the question was, would I make pounded yam or burn down the kitchen? The ball was rolling. I get into the exam hall. Papers get shared. At this point, the machines are shining beacons. At least to the legitimate students who either know you do not belong to the department or if you do, have tasted of your pedigree and know there is no way in blazes you can re-sit a course.

The goal; finish and exit immediately. If the client insists on an ‘A’, then things get a bit tricky cos you’ve got to make it believable that an amoeba like him can manage that feat. That was my lot. No second wasted, studied the questions weightings and got to work. Basic circuits, oh God of Moses, we are finished in this country, is this what this boy can’t do?

The students were spread across 3 classrooms, consequently, the lecturer only came in at intervals to speak with the invigilators and scan a bit. On his third trip, he looks at me with an expression like *something tastes funny*. I could see him from the corner of my eye. I did not break my composure. But then he starts to approach.

As a machine being approached by the lecturer, you have to understand that at this point, nothing other than being supremely critical in your decisions would suffice. At this point, the client does not exist. His interests are not secondary, they are not even remotely factored, hell, if giving him an ‘F’ can get you out unharmed that would be super!

Ultimately, the next few seconds could lead to the termination of my degree program and possibly jail time but if handled expertly will be nothing more than a harmless temporary disconnect in doing my deed. It was the ultimate judgment call. To run or not to run.

The approach ensued. What was the attraction? I blended in totally. Right? Still looking from the corner of my eye, I could see that he had a book in his arm. I assumed he can’t grab me properly but I had decided that if he drops it before getting to me, I don take off.

Couldn’t help it. I had to preempt. I got up, walked up to him and bombarded the dude with questions. Some revealing solutions, some revealing errors in the questions, just enough to grab his faculties from thoughts of suspicion and bury them in very relevant concerns. Immediately, he goes about correcting the class and leaves to correct the other classrooms. Sweet relief. Then the introspection began. Why the hell am I doing this? For how much? 3grand? I’m no king Midas heir but there aint no denying my makeshift silver spoon. I guess the appeal was the thrill. All my friends had done it and the rush was reputedly orgasmic. Being a sucker for a challenge I put my entire life in jeopardy to get paid for an overhyped rollercoaster ride. If that lecturer had grabbed me and things went sour, wetin I for tell myself? wetin I for tell popsi? This shit isn’t worth it. Pretty much like sniffing cyanide for a high. I’ve got to finish fast.

I had bagged about 60 points and deliberately sabotaged about 20. Needed a few more to make the ‘A’ and just disappear but then the lecturer stepped in. This time his cool was lost. Like something had just transpired in one of the classrooms. He was taking deep breaths and spoke to the lone invigilator in hush tones. “I’m going to get the photocards, make sure no one leaves”

“Ebami-oooo!” I thought to myself. University regulations make the photocards a requirement for course registration. The card contains the students name and photo. Every properly planned job should have a picture of the surrogate student and not the client on the photocard. In my case, the client submitted the thing without my consultations. Thinking it was of no consequence. That move was about to cost him an ‘F’ cos there was no way in hell or its immediate surroundings that I was going down. Not today.

Needed an exit strategy. Glad I opted for the chair closest to the exit. Waited for the invigilator to get to the far end of the room. Then I stood up walked up to the table in front of the class, wrote down the clients name on the attendance list and signed his signature. Dropped his script and began heading for the door.



Invigilator: I said you shouldn’t fill the attendance sheet until you’ve finished the exam.

Lonely: I have finished sir.

Invigilator: Oh OK. Sit down and wait for the lecturer.

Lonely: yes sir.

I’m still heading for the door.

Invigilator: I said that the lecturer asked everyone to wait!

Lonely: Of course sir.

Closer to the door.


Smart guy. He could tell I wasn’t about to do any sitting. He quickened his pace. I didn’t have to. I’m guessing he didn’t realize his being at the far end of the classroom was not by chance. Before he was anywhere close by I was out the door. Broke into a sprint for a bit to create some distance and then dropped back into a stroll before he was out and I made sure to keep a relaxed Sangfroid.

Invigilator: Hey you! Hey you!

The irony, he now had to make a judgment call. Chase this renegade student still very much bursting with youth and let the ‘un-invigilated’ class fall into organized chaos in a copying frenzy or mind his business. I guess he gave it some thought and somewhere between considering his 40 yr old bones giving way in a sprint and his less than stellar payslip decided that it was well out of his job description. He made the easier choice and took his place in the scheme of things.

I did some more sprinting for a complete change of scenery and then took a bike out of campus. For some reason, twas after paying the bike dude my nerves began to rattle.

Funny thing, despite my conviction that the client was in trouble, nothing became of the issue and he got a ‘B’ which ended up as an ‘A’ after the lecturer was pressured to improve the class average.

When I think about it, I’m convinced that taking up the offer to write an exam for some dude for the sake of the thrill and at the possible expense of my academic career is the most imbecilic decision I have ever made. I honestly hope it stays that way.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Mother Theresa

Kinda long post




Switched on the TV.

There was some news about the Turkish prime minister abi president being too Muslim in his beliefs and a threat to the secular lifestyle of the country (this post is not about the Turkish Prime minister abi President). Just then, subdued by the immense power of association latent in the human mind, I remembered Marisha. Cute Marisha. Petit Turkish girl. (this post is not about Marisha). The attraction was her small firm boobs, her portability and the way she loved to jump on me. I’ld say hop and she’ll leap. But it wasn’t all physical though. We used to talk. I remember one such occasion we were having a conversation on a sofa right in front of a TV and… Chinelo. OH bloody mind associations, now I’m thinking of Chinelo because we once had a convo on a Sofa right in front of a TV. (I’m not sure this post is about Chinelo).

Chinelo was not your average chic. She is pretty and pretty naive. Scratch that. Make it sublimely-out-of-this-world naive. Let me help you understand her level of naiveté.

Lonely: Chinelo

Chinelo: yes

Lonely: Where is your pussy?

Chinelo with a puzzled look points to ankle area.

That was a fictional conversation but is very representative of Chinelo’s ignorance in the way of the world.

She was so full of the bible and its teachings and I guess I was so into staying friends with her because she was absolutely intriguing to me. Hanging out with her was fun. You had to repress the urge to use swear words even when they’ll be sooooo apt. You can’t drink no alcohol. Half hugs always. Skip kissing scenes. No hands on her waist, not even to take a picture. And so on. I loved faking all these in her presence, I guess she was just too different from everyone I’ve ever known and that was somehow appealing.

Story story, stoooory. Once upon a time. Time time. A couple of years ago, on one fine weekend like this when NEPA was behaving and there was no traffic, I paid Chinelo a visit. I sat on the sofa right next to her. She switched on the TV, tuned in to TBN. Our conversation went something like this.

Lonely: Abeg can we watch something else?

Chinelo: This is Paula White (I’m pretty sure it was Paula but don’t blame me if the color is different).

Chinelo: Paula white is the blah blah blah

I blank out as I always do when she gets too spiritual

Chinelo: blah blah blah

Lonely: Good for her. I’m just exhausted and I don’t want to have to think right now so let’s watch something senselessly funny.

She gives me one of those why-are-you-not-acting-like-a-child-of-God looks then flips the channel and it’s a sitcom.

Everything went ok until some dude made a passing comment about a blowjob.




Chinelo: What is a blowjob?






My thought stream went like this: *wili-wili don die! Get the fuck outta here! Is that a trick question? Of course it is. No it isn’t. Yes it is. Blowjob? How can she not know what a blowjob is? She is testing me. She wants to taste me. OH SHUT UP! But she is 20. 2004 minus 1983 equals 21. Haba, even worse. Abeg everybody knows what a blowjob is. Not having administered a blowjob @21 is permissible but to not even know what it is is completely inexcusable. Maybe she knows I’m all charlatan? She does not. Then why is she asking me? I can’t tell her the truth! I need a good lie. And I need to say it with an easy confidence. A blowjob is how you refer to a blow-dryer’s job. IDIOT! Abeg make I silent, she go think say I no know. I don dey razz oh. I suppose stop to dey think …I ought to quit thinking in pidgin*

Chinelo: So?

Lonely: Sosoliso. (my little sis taught me that one)

Chinelo: Tell me nowwwww.

*Lord, take this cup away from me. Lord, in fact don’t worry, I’ll just ignore her.

Just then her dad is passing by, we say hi, he walks towards the stairs then she stands up.

Chionelo: hiss! Let me go and ask my Father jo.

I hold am for hand immediately.This girl wan go implicate me for him papa.

Lonely: Wait now, I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you.

Chinelo: Just tell me already!

Lonely: I think, I’m not sure about this, In fact I have no credibility in these matters. But I think there was one day that TJ, you remember TJ?

Chinelo: That your friend that drinks?

*haba, I booze pass am*

Lonely: Eheeen, that TJ. He said that a blowjob *light cough* is an Ungodly act involving a woman’s tongue and a Man’s private area...

Chinelo: STOP!

pause

Chinelo: STOP!

pause

Chinelo: STOP!

*haba, I don stop since naaa.

She sat down. Hands on her chin. Gazing nowhere in particular.

*She must be saying a short prayer. Or maybe she’s playing out a blowjob scene in her head. Can she be doing both? Is that a smile? No, it’s a straight face. No, it’s a smile. No, it’s a frown. No it’s a ..

Chinelo: why did you tell me that kind of nonsense?

Lonely: Emmm, But you asked me to.

Chinelo: But you know better.

Lonely: But you forced me, besides you wanted to ask your father.

Chinelo: *Hiss* My father does not know that kind of nonsense.

One eyebrow up.

Chinelo: Do you know how long I have to not think of that nonsense before it leaves my mindspace?

Couldn’t help it. I giggled.

Chinelo: You’re laughing? You’re laughing? *tears* Your’re laughing?

What had I done? Just then I realized I had just dropped a handful of whites into a bucket of palm oil. It was a game to me but as far as she was concerned, I had corrupted her big time. Abeg its not my fault. After all everybody knows what a blowjob is and I did not mean to fuck with her blissful ignorance. I mean, who cries because of knowledge?

Things were never the same between Chinelo and I. She would feel so uncomfortable around me and was sure to keep her curiosities hidden. Gradually we hung out less and then not at all. My experiment came to an end.

Chinelo, it’s been more than three years. I hope that if we run into each other, you’ll be sooo rotten and ask me questions like “Do you want me to swallow” :)

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Fela Kuti Feat. Lil Wayne

If you call am woman
African woman no go ‘gree o
She go say
She go say I be Lady o

If you call am woman
African woman no go ‘gree o
She go say
She go say I be Lady o


She go say I no be woman
She go say I be Lady o
She go say market woman na woman
She go say I be Lady o
She go say I be Lady

Yeah Let Me Upgrade U
U May Not Be A Model, But I Can Front Page Ya
U Know Im Nasty Excuse My Behavior
Let Me Just Taste Ya
We Can F**k Lata
Sittin In Da Coupe, Lookin Like A Racer
Top Peeled Back Like Da Skin Of A Potato
Seat Way Back Listen To Anita Baker
Ridin By Myself Smokin Weed By Da Acre
Hollygrove Gata Aint Nobody Greater
Leave U Wit Some Bullet Holes Da Size Of Craters


...

If wishes were horses

Saturday, July 14, 2007

You can't make me say it

Dad: hello

Lonely: Hello

Dad: Hello.

Lonely: Ah, Daddy, good afternoon Sir!

Dad: Sharap!! I've told you stop that Sir nonsense. How are you?

Lonely: I guess I’m doing great, Sir.

Dad: Olu kwanu (and your job)?

Lonely: Going well.

Lonely: How is everyone?

Dad: Everyone is ok. Your brother is still insisting on that girl. Your sisters are working hard to finish my money and your mother only gives me pawpaw and soaked garri.

*joke alert*

Lonely: ha ha ha ha

Dad: ehen. I've been meaning to talk to you.

Lonely: what’s the matter?

Dad: Lonely, you know that that-thing is everywhere now.

*oh meeeen, not again*

Lonely: Everywhere?

Dad: YES!! In fact the numbers keep rising every second.

Lonely: What thing?

*like i don't know*

Dad: The other day i put on the news and they said that it is spreading like wild fire.

Lonely: Wild Fire?

Dad: YES!! I know my son very well and I know he would not do anything silly but i just have to fulfill my duties and mention it.

*silence*

Dad: You know once you get it you are just FINISHED!

Lonely: Get what?

*silence*

Lonely: Hello

Dad: Hello

*so he hears me*

Dad: I spoke with Doctor O the other day and he said that the number of patients he gets with that thing is just unimaginable. It is as if everyone has it.

Lonely: Everyone?

Dad: Yes!! He even said that you can now get it from Kissing.

Lonely: Kissing?

*somebody save me*

Dad: YES!

Lonely: Get what?

Dad: So you have to be very very careful. Just stay focused and when the time is right you get someone and settle down.

Lonely: Hello

Dad: Hello

Lonely: Dad

Dad: Yes

*You MUST say it today*

Lonely: What are you talking about?

Dad: I told your mum that we would talk to you next time you're in d country on days off but i just decided to have a word with you now.

*no hope*

Lonely: ok.

Dad: You know our people are humble and we don’t show off. It is when you show off that you start attracting all manner of creatures.

Lonely: Yes, humility is very important.

Dad: Just focus on your job and when God's time comes you can settle down.

Lonely: Ok Sir.

Dad: Stop it!

Lonely: ok

Dad: so, when next are you coming ...~wurahell are u driving? U don't use your side mirrors? Slow down slow down. I have told you to always give some headroom before the car in front! If you scratch this car i'll skin u alive. Ike udele (ass of a vulture)~

Lonely: I have three weeks left, would be off for 3 too. Please greet the driver for me.

Dad: ok, Lonely i'll talk to you some other time.

Lonely: thanks for the call, my regards to everyone.

Dad: of course. Bye.

Lonely: bye.




My r/ship with my Dad is kindda stiff and sometimes funny. In as much as it makes him extremely uncomfortable, he has had countless talks with me on HIV, however, he never ever mentions it by name. Surely, he knows it can’t be contacted via pronunciation alone.

For stressing yourself to keep me safe pops, I appreciate the effort. Much luv.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Cosmopolitan Amosu

I hate it

Your grip on me

Stiff like African-handcuffs

But now I have my psyche set on escape




You have my "mugu button"

I recognize the symptoms

I don't know how you found it

Then you go pressing away

Making me do foolish things




Please leave me alone

I beg you

Take all your cuteness and go

Don't leave your Gabriel Union smile, take that too

Gimme back my "mugu-button"




The stain. Your smear.

Your couth-vibe tattooed on my mind

Astute manipulator

Ever poised in a state of almost kissed, almost caressed always an almost-urge

Grab that urbane-shit and leave

Take your craft elsewhere




Contrary to your beliefs, I'll fix myself

There'll b some kind of Amosu-disinfectant-rehab place somewhere

You are very hot, probably the hottest of the hot, SO WHAT!!?

You make the most attractive conversation, u r refined to a fault, AND THEN!!?

Abeg, take your lies, your shiver provoking beauty and all associated pluses elsewhere



Yes you have won, albeit marginally

It is a Small price to get me back, hell it’ll b the cheapest thing I’ve ever got you

May the next unfortunate soul that falls victim to your scheme escape with his life



Yours regretfully,

Ex-mugu.

PS: Next time don’t give it up

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

I want it back

I looked at your face I saw that all the love had died
I saw that we had forgotten to take the time
I, I saw that you couldn't care less about what you do
Couldn't care less about the lies
You couldn't find the time to cry

We forgot about love
We forgot about faith
We forgot about trust
We forgot about us

Now our love's floating out the window
Our love's floating out the back door
Our love's floating up in the sky in heaven
Where it began back in God's hands

You said that you had said all that you had to say
You said baby it's the end of the day
And we gave a lot but it wasnm't enough
We got so tired that we just gave up

We didn't respect it
We went and neglected it
We didn't deserve it
But I never expected this

Our love floated out the window
Our love floated out the back door
Our love floated up in the sky to heaven
It's part of a plan
It's back in God's hands
Back in God's hands

It didn't last
It's a thing of the past
Oh we didn't understand
Just what we had
Oh I want it back
Just what we had
Oh I want it back
Oh just what we had

_N. Furtado.

Saturday, February 3, 2007

L for Linda

ME: “Herro?” (in a deep Igbotic accent)

Okon: “Hello?, Oboy, na u?”

ME: “how far na?”

Okon: “Oboy, I don die!”

ME: “Wetin happen?”

Okon: “True true, this time I’m completely finished. You hear me? I’m finished!”

ME: “You drink bleach?”

Okon: “I wish!”

ME: “Kata-Kata don burst be that!”

Okon: “Shebi you remember my babe?”

ME: “Call me heartless but I just want to use this opportunity to say; ‘I got 99 problems but a b&*ch aint one.’”

Okon: “oboy, quit clowning, it’s a big issue.”

ME: “What is her name again? I know its one of those 'supermarket names'. AHA! Laura! Is she 2 months pregnant?”

Okon: “Laura is my ex. I’m talking of Linda. The one with the standoffish default demeanor”

ME: “Oh yeah, the general’s daughter, how could I forget, you got us acquainted at Shoprite. Nawa for you and your big English, you say na Standoffish wetin wetin? Because she snubbed you once or twice! So why are you finished? Is she a man?”

Okon: “Are you going to let me sulk or not?”

ME: “shoot”

Okon: “I swear the thing just dey like Nigerian movie”

ME: “ehen…”

Okon: “I don’t even understand what kind of ill luck has come upon me”

ME: “go on…”

Okon: “I feel like I should just shoot myself in the head”

ME: “okaaaay…”

Okon: “there is no reason why fate should choose me for…”

ME: “oboy, you want me to beg you or what?”

Okon: “Ok, Ok, Ok. You know how I always call my chic?”

ME: “like a million times a day? I have a rough idea.”

Okon: “That’s how it started. I was doing my standard ‘missing you’ routine, the one where I say I just want to cuddle you right now, even a half cuddle would do…’”

ME: “Too much detail”

Okon: “Anyway, I just dey form ‘crazy in love’, asking her if there was no way she could skip classes and come around, after all her UNI isn’t too far from Lag. All of a sudden I could hear that beep that hints of an incoming call. She hangs up.”

ME: “Linda hung up on you and that’s why you are making noise. Oboy this is an international call oh. Stop whining over completely superficial issu… ”

Okon: “E never finish. So I try to call back but only got connected like half an hour later. I switch to ‘bad cop’ mode.”

Okon: “Linda, Did u just hang up on me?”

Linda: “Don’t be silly. I’m totally out of batteries and NEPA is at it again. This call will prolly get cut off soon”

Okon: “I thought I heard an incoming call?”

Linda: “Yes oh mumsi was calling”

Okon: “So you hung up?”

Linda: “Mr. Paranoia. My battery ran out and I don’t appreciate you calling me a liar.”

Okon: “Baby sweets, don’t mind me jo. You know sometimes I just care too much”

ME: “Baby sweets? Whatever happened to ‘Baby spice’?

Okon: “Baby spice was for Laura. I don’t recycle.”

ME: “Oh ok. So you asked her to come to Lagos?”

Okon: “She declined, her reason being that she’s got a bunch of tests lined up for the week. Last time I checked Education outranked fornication, hence, I could live with that.”

ME: “Do I need a torchlight to see the punch line?”

Okon: “Oboy, stop interrupting me now. If you don’t want to hear the story just let me know. Na by force? Where was I now? See what you’ve caused.”

ME: “Ode! You were saying tests no gree am come Lagos.”

Okon: “Whatever. Anyway, I got to work around 8pm cos I was setup for night shift. After a couple of hours I was too damn tired to complete my shift, besides nothing much was happening. You know how my work be now? If anything goes wrong I’ll get an sms, so I just decided to go home and sleep jo. On my way out of the office I run into a colleague. The guy works in Benin branch but was in for some sort of training. He was being lodged in one of my company’s designated hotels. He asks for a lift. It was on my route. Why not?”

ME: “I think I’m joining the dots”

Okon: “Don’t intuit, just listen. So I drop him off and start heading home. 15km from the hotel, my phone rings. The guy forgot a folder in my car. I was a bit piqued that the dude even had the audacity to ask me to bring it up to his room. I had the urge to return it the following day but trust me, regular Santa, I headed back.”

ME: “Abeg no dey form posh, who introduced you to santa? I think say na only father Christmas you sabi.”

Okon: “U dey craze. Anyway, just check this out. I got to the hotel. I park my car. I walk to the entrance. I reach for the door but It swings open from the inside. You know that kind of soundtrack that plays out in a Nigerian movie when some spiritualist is disappearing and appearing?”

ME: “Like trying to form a tune with zapping Lasers?”

Okon: “Exactly! The thing just dey blast for my head.”

Okon: “Can you imagine?”

Okon: “1:00 am.”

Okon: “In this Lagos! And certainly not preparing for any tests!”

Okon: “In a nondescript hotel!”

Okon: “Linda!”

Okon: “Alleged-virgin Linda!”

Okon: “Daddy’s-driver-chauffeured-everywhere Linda!”

Okon: “My own Linda!”

Okon: “Hand in hand with another man!”

ME: “Bullshit!”

Okon: “I shit you not!”

ME: “NA Lie!!”

Okon: “I swear on everything dear to me!!”

ME: “OOOOOOHHH MEEEEEEEEN!”

Okon: “My sentiments exactly!”

ME: “Oboy, I’m nonplussed. Whenever I see stuff like that in a movie I always dismiss it as exaggeration.”

Okon: “well, my life just got exaggerated.”

ME: “It sounds so unbelievable, I mean, look at the sequence of events”

Okon: “O boy na that one tire me. I made a bunch of choices that led to that climax. If I had decided differently along the line at any one time, I no for catch am!”

ME: “Tell me. Wetin you do? Or better still, what did she do?”

Okon: “Nothing”

ME: “Nothing? What type of nothing?”

Okon: “The regular type. Absolutely nothing. I stood there like a privileged scarecrow and watched them leave”

ME: “You did what??? Wait, wait, wait. She didn’t see you?”

Okon: “I said I was right in front of the door. Of course she saw me”

ME: “You didn’t even call out her name?”

Okon: “In retrospect, maybe I should have but what would it profit me? It was already embarrassing enough. She was mouth agape and all that. If she could disappear, she would have done so. I don’t even know why the guy did not notice anything”

ME: “What was the guy like?”

Okon: “I know him.”

ME: “You sabi am? From where?”

Okon: “He’s her ex, a manager in my office. But we don’t talk. The last time I had a fight with her was because of some suspicious text messages from the guy but she insisted it was over between them.”

ME: “Maybe they were coming from fellowship. You know, siblings in Christ.”

Okon: “I go nod you from here oh”

ME: “Okay lets get progressive. What would you do?”

Okon: “I duno, I’m still strategizing.”

ME: “Oboy, I have to blog about this”

Okon: “No try am oh!”

ME: “Why not? It’ll be okay. I’ll call you Okoro or Okon and the slut can be Violet”

Okon: “Use Linda. You know Linda means snake! What am I talking about? Abeg don’t blog about it, I don’t need my dirty linen in public”

ME: “Don’t be a dumbass. No one would know it’s your crap.”

Okon: “I said I don’t want!”

*beepbeep, beepbeep*

ME: “Is that an incoming call?”

Okon: “yup, it’s the serpent. Make I see wetin she wan talk. I’ll give you feedback. Remember, if you blog, I’ll sever your jugular”

ME: “One”

Okon: “One”

Thursday, January 18, 2007

The essential guide to mortgaging your life: #1 The arrival. (First written: Jan06)


For want of anonymity, I choose to keep certain details of this ‘tory’ un-divulged. This includes the name of the country in question amongst other sure giveaways. As this blog progresses, if it progresses, my reasons for anonymity would gradually become evident and just maybe appreciated. (Question to self: Why does this sound like a roundabout definition of cowardice?)




Naija is the only place where airport employees consistently ask for pepe. Right? WRONG!! The country I reside in at the moment is even much worse because they can’t speak English but they’ll somehow get the message across that you’re being taxed. You can either try to convince a non English speaking, quasi-hungry, military dressed dude, with a permanent smirk on his face indicative of a 100% success rate at taxing foreigners that he does not deserve your hard earned $10. This would easily take you at least half an hour oooooor, you can just get in line, shut up, pay up and save your self the trouble/time. Personally, I make up for the financial loss by dropping the money with an accompanying “olodo, ode, anu-ohia”, serving it up with a soft smile.



Naturally, I had done my research about the country and all so I was particularly interested in the president and his obscure idea of leadership. The first evidence of dictatorship I witnessed hit me like a double backhand slap.



Right out of the airport, I was hungry as hell and asked the driver to take me to the nearest restaurant, so that I could loadup anything that had a remote semblance to pounded yam. After munching up, I was glad when I realized that the waiter was pretty fluent in English. Receiving my bill, I paid in dollars and requested that he spread out my change in the local currency. I’m always in a hurry to build up my forex collection.




When the guy handed me the kishi and started to walk away, I took an exciting look at the latest addition to my piggy bank and I remember thinking to myself “I think sey this oyibo mugu dey understand english” So I call out, he comes back and I explain again; “Like I said before, I need you to give me as many de-nom-in-a-tions, diff-e-rent notes, as possible”. Counting my words to make sure they sink in. The guy gives me a look like “this black dude must be a completely retarded dolt” His grimace (a bit like someone dancing Awilo on the toilet seat cos he’s having a hard time taking a dump) made me take a closer look at the cash and I realized I was in error. I apologized and waved him off while I stared at the notes in utter amazement. Every single denomination, -as in- all the notes, small and big, even the coins had the same picture, that of the incumbent presido. I’m like “wetin be this?”



Still trying to work out how an entire country can let one man, still alive, breathing the same air as everyone else stamp his face allover their doe, it became apparent that that was only the
beginning. My fellow country people, you wont believe what happened next. The presido himself, begin stalk me oh! Yeah, you read right, the president started trailing me. I walk out of the restaurant and BAM, the guy dey there dey look me, right in the eye. I’m walking to the car and he’s still got his eyes on me. All the way back to my hotel I could see him stealing glances from every corner. Almost every other building had a huge picture of the bobo; you know that type of a portrait that stares at you from every angle. The type you see on CNN articles chronicling Saddam’s tyranny, exactly that type of dope shit. It’s very unnerving to see the huge photographs right in front of every building. I guess he was trying to achieve an omnipresent-effect, trust me, it was working!



Thought to self: “Omo, which kine zone be this? Na so I like money reach? I should have rejected this transfer!


I conjure up a mental image of my expected 12month remuneration and it hit like a shot of morphine. Calmed me up completely, infact there was a slight tinge of a residual high. My train of thought brazened up. I be naija man, nothing dey happen.

Misguided confidence??????



Next: The essential guide to mortgaging your life: #2 The desert.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Don Agustus Del Pedro Hugo

I've always been amused by latinos with their compulsory four names and the fondness they've got for every one of them down to the very last phoneme. Don Agustus del pedro hugo is no one I know, its just one of them latino names unconnected to anything but I’ve grown to like, cant even remember where I heard it, nevertheless it really does sound nice to say. Don Agustus del pedro hugo.


My boss is “latino”, he’s from Ecuador, workaholic/party animal (aren’t we all? lets just say he takes it to another level but that’s a different story). Anyway, he summons me into his office to discuss some upcoming jobs and I’m seated, chilling, watching him work on his laptop. He has got this huge external monitor newly hooked up to his laptop, its always left blank but by pushing a couple of buttons on his computer, it doubles as a larger laptop screen, he only uses it when he needs to show someone some stuff, apparently for the convenience of not having you walk behind his desk just to take a peek at his laptop screen.



So as I dey siddon for there directly facing him, dey revise all the job related issues for my head, the IT guy (Russian, half competent with English) walks in and the following conversation ensues.

IT guy: Can I look into the SPAM problem now?

Boss: Just a minute let me round up some important issues.

Misunderstanding my boss, the IT guy starts to get behind the desk, my Boss cuddles his laptop like a mother would do a baby, making sure to tilt the screen away.

Boss: I said wait a bit, “padasdee”(Russian for wait). I need to finish this.

I’m thinking this must be some pretty confidential shit. IT guy grabs a seat next to mine.

Boss seemed to be pushing one of them arrow keys, and staring dreamingly into his laptop with a half smile. The IT guy gives me this “are you pondering what I’m pondering” look, important issues my ass.



After some 10 minutes of waiting while he rounds up some important issues, he turns to the IT dude and says “Let me describe my problem to you”. Just then he closes his laptop in an attempt to give himself room to gesticulate; he uses body language to a fault. However, it seems that no one ever told my boss that when you’ve got an external monitor connected to your laptop, the act of closing the laptop shut would switch your laptop display to the external monitor. No one mentioned to him that this would always happen even if while pretending to be rounding up “some important issues”, you were indeed secretly looking at porn. Hardcore porn or not, the display would still switch to the external monitor.

It put a whole new twist to the definition of “unsolicited porn”.

What do you do in a situation like that? How do you tell your boss that he has unwittingly got some serious explicit shit out in the open? So there I was frozen, looking at the most unheralded blast of lesbian cunnilingus. Picture this, a 40 inch screen, half covered with pu_ _y and there is some tongue and some fingers and… I think u get the picture.



To think that this Latino dude should know that something was off with our faces white with surprise and our pupils dilated like one Naira coins (its not like we’ve never seen a "hairy octupus" but the scale, the venue, the circumstances), my boss, completely clueless went on ranting about how he receives emails he does not request for, and how they keep asking him to buy Viagra he does not need, the guy just went on and on and on dey yarn excess without an audience, we were there in the flesh but our minds were long gone.

He must have felt like talking to a brick wall when he traced our line of sight and went into a frenzy like he’s just seen the queen of the coast. “OH SHIT”, “GADEMN”, “WHAT THE FUCK”, “FUCK”. Stumbling over himself he quickly opens up his laptop, the external monitor goes off. We (IT guy and I) come back to earth and then he looks at us probably in the same fashion Judas must have looked at the crucifixion.

Well, after an uncomfortable stretch of silence he had the guts to say “now that’s the SPAM I’ve been talking about

Somehow, I managed to put the lid on a mushroom cloud of laughter.

IT GUY says to my boss “Yeah, right!”

The lid came off slightly; I morphed it into a cough, bottled it up again.



Ever been part of someone’s very embarrassing moment?