There is nothing as sweet as stolen meat. If you go to the same pot from which you were served three pieces of Yoruba-standard meat and steal the tiniest piece of meat in it, you’ll discover the taste is different. It is always juicier, more delicious, and even glints in the dark like the cow or chicken was wearing bling-bling before meeting death. Also, if you listen carefully, you can hear the alleluia chorus playing as you lift it out of the pot. Whether it is the excitement and fear of being caught, or just the knowledge that one is doing something wrong that spices it in a way that ONGA and MAGGI can never match, I don’t know. But one thing I know that is sweeter than ordinary stolen meat, (aside Kabiru don’t kill me for my mother Kind of sex) is stolen chicken that has jazz in it.
Can a man rob God?
Na the last thing wen comot for pastor mouth before we hear the sound kpraka kpraka followed by “Everybody lie down flat”. Real street no even need hear lie down flat before you begin enter ground like seed wen dem wan plant. Who go dey Ajegunle wen no go sabi the sound of wen dem cock gun. Before we know wetin dey sup, the men dem don begin rise up like ijebu garri from different corner of the church, with gun wen no be childs.
Pastor yemi wen-dey-drink-big-stout no even wait make dem shout the lie down flat finish him don lie down, wan even enter ground bury himsef alive. Haba! pastor! But last last, na Aj be this so I no too blame am. When gbege burst all man dey answer him papa name. Even though him be pastor, him sef sabi say jaguda get oga. As the men dem dey go round dey check to make sure say nobody try any nonsense, all of us dey do silent competition for who go lie down flat pass. Even papa Jamiu wen get kitchen-utensil belle, because if u call am pot belle, e no go reach to describe am, lie down dey even suck the belle inside sotay e come dey like say e wan flat for ground pass me.
Him papa mama!!!
Me sef suck my own inside come flat like Hausa mat. No be me dem go shoot because I no lie down flat. Only Deacon Etim na him wan form Jagaban. They speak many English as him dey always do when na time to give testimony. “This is wrong. This is preposterous, this is unjust, how can you rob in the house of God, on the eve of Christmas, how?” When the smallest inside dem the thief sound am, na him I even know say forget all the big big English, if deacon Etim pidgin English na rice wen dem put for fire, e don done tey tey.
Baba halla “ abasi mbok oh!!!! But e no rish to tear me this kain slap na. Na we we na. bros.”
Him eye come dey like the tap for our compound wen u no close am well- the tears just dey flow drop by drop. E come be like say the slap paralyze the deacon. Cos e still dey yarn, dey try make e no really cry, dey try wonder why bad things dey happen to good people, when dem ring am the second one. The call connect and e tell him body make e use him head, because d way e dive down ehn, if no be say I don tey for the church I for feel say swimming pool don dey inside the church.
E no even make sense to try shout. Kehinde street boys dey do street jamz that night and na DJ cure-my-craze dey play. The rumor wen be dey area na say e go smoke twelve jumbo of kwale igbo as bet, the thing come knock him engine. But las las sha e come normal after dem carry am go aro psychia, or e dey do like e don normal because once in a while the red and blue wire for him head dey touch. Na why sometimes him go see you for night still dey shout good morning sir. Kehinde boys specifically choose am because him sound dey like wetin dey mental hospital, e mad gaan. So with mad speaker and D.J cure-my- crase wen carry half dada, half gorimakpa for head, kehinde street boys sure say their music go dey blast even for moshalashi street wen also choose to do their own street jamz on that 24th too.
Thunder fire their mama. Nonsense Street.
The thief dem no wan hear say bird born 5pikin, 12 come die. So dem tell like two of the choir people to dey sing praise and worship as dem dey go round dey obtain all man for the church, make everything still dey like say normal service still dey happen.
Because I know as area dey be, I been no wan leave my entire bar for house so I carry am come church. When pastor dey shout sow a seed, a seed wen go provoke God to bless you, I hold my money tight for pocket. Him papa! Why I go wan provoke God? Who I be? Ordinary man like me? Money wen I don plan to use for hotel wen me and my babyrisky go dey tomorrow dey jolly our christmas. But as this men dem fall in, I come realize say that my plan just dey like who wan chop fish lap-impossicant.
I see some surprising things that night as I lie down for ground dey peep. As the men dem dey near you, dem dey tell you make you empty your pocket. Brother paul wen before dem do 1,2 buckle my shoe for prayers for church, e don begin dey speak in tongues, empty him pocket and aside the two die die hundred hundred naira wen fall out, I see three packet of Gold circle condom. Paulo Paulo, so u sef dey chop aka enwe? Na wa o.
As I dey for ground, I use style style dey find pastor wife, wen dey always like preach about protection, security, jump down from mountain and baba God go send angels to set mouka foam wen u go land untop so nothing go do you. But omo eh, be like as dem shout the lie down flat the woman move. She no even reason her husband. She be real street. Igboro woman. I know say for her mind she go don talk say instead two of them go die, make one person die make the other person bury am. After all if thief marry winsh born ashewo who go come dey stay house for night?.
Na still that night I understand why sister agnes dey always calm anytime she enter church. Because as dem tell am make she empty her bag, I see two full kpoli, and one wen dem don kiss half wen fall out. I talk am. All this her red eye no be say she be prayer warrior. All this talk wen she dey always follow herself talk, no be speaking in tongues. She and the SK dey get better tete a tete.
Even mama itoro wen dey my side, wen dey always beg style style begging for church, because she be widow, wen dem empty all her wrapper, the money wen fall out reach almost N10,000 or maybe e small pass like that I no know. Na peep I been dey peep wen I see am.
This men dem take their time. Even collect the three chicken wen Iya Samuel and her family been wan use give pastor do thanksgiving. Dj cure-my-craze still dey blast customer dada ni for outside, while brother martins the lead singer, dey try him best make e no cry inside the microphone e dey use sing, as dem dey collect him phone, him money, and even him belt cos one of the thief say na original leather. Him dey sing it is well for the microphone but if your spiritual ear dey open, the real song na, “holy ghost fire, fire fall on them”.
How this men take miss we no know. One minute dem dey collect phone, next minute dem dey threaten to kill anybody wen open eye, next minute voom dem don disappear. Na that time all man come begin shout, dey cry, na that time people for area come even know wetin been dey sup since for the church. Many of them dey laugh us say if to say we dey street jamz who for come rob us. With their long long face like lorry, and sorrow wen full their body, everybody just dey cry him personal cry, dey count their loss, they go house. Merry which christmas?
The next day, we hear say police dem from Ajeronmi police station come the church to do investigation. You go fear na. No be eke dem again? Dem go just come dey ask jamb question. Only thing wen dem sabi na to catch boys wen dey smoke weed for little heaven. If alarm don blow their papa like this, next thing dem go raid little heaven where boys no dey cause anybody problem o, just dey do their fire drill jeje.
Police dem wen be say wen dem rob UBA for boundary/Aiyetoro road, dem begin enter all the compound wen dey around the bank, dey arrest any boy wen get suspicious face. You carry dada, arrest. You draw tattoo? arrest. You get strong face, arrest. You dey use laptop, arrest. Na that period na him OritseKemi sleep almost two weeks for cell. Why? Him get strong face, carry dada, draw skull tattoo, den as dem jazz enter him room, see where him dey press laptop dey try mix him new song, the police dem shout “egbe! See the ring leader”. Na with almost 50k, man know man, and plenty brother abeg na him e use fallout for there. So all of us for area know say police no go fit find anything wen loss for church that day. But how pastor yemi-wen-dey-drink-big-stout go do na? him gast co-operate
At all at all na him be winsh. As I don loss phone, loss money, I no fit loss the lashing wen babyrisky say she wan gimme as my christmas gift. Something wen I don plan say she go know the difference between egbin and igbin. Na beg I beg my sister say make she borrow me ten thousand naira. Say I wan use am do something important.
Her papa! Even though na my papa too.
Lashing no be important thing? Na her phone I use send babyrisky the address of the hotel wen I go use my thunder fire am like sango. My blood dey hot. The hotel wen I pick no dey area at all because Babyrisky brothers na mental and if dem go hear say I dey mekwe their sister eh, ajegunle no go contain us. And we dey try form lowkey make we no cast for area because of all those people wen dey jamtalk. The hotel dey inside inside surulere and anybody wen u jam for there eh, just shake am tell am say bad man na bad man.
The receptionist for the hotel give me the room key. Direct me say na upstairs. Before I pay I sha borrow the receptionist phone use call babyrisky to make sure say she dey come. Because I know as devil dey work. E fit be today now na him she and all her family no go make am. The babe sef her head dey there. She tell me say make I just go the room naked dey wait for am. The electric shock start from my ear, shock my brain, shock my body, shock my thing- blade( no ask me why na d name I give am.), come shock my mouth wan kain special shocking sotay I no know when like flavor nabania I shout oyolima!
I been dey climb step go my room wen I hear voice dem wen familiar. Dem dey argue. I been wan continue to move but my leg no gree. I die! Wait no be this man voice I dey hear like this? I press my ear for the door wen the voice dey comot from. Omo na him. I die. No be mistake na him.
I been no fit recognize the other voice wen e dey argue with, but deacon Etim big big English no dey two for market so na him. “you should not have assaulted me. That was not the plan you nattering nitwits” e just dey vibrate dey go. Dey halla, dey shout, dey deposit. Next voice I hear na pastor Yemi wen-dey-drink-big-stout voice. Wait! Shey na say this men come church meeting or wetin? But abeg na lie no be for this hotel. Graziella hotel no be were dem dey stay dey do church meeting. I been wan bone am say make I free when I hear baba do good voice too. Church financial secretary. Their papa! I must know wetin dey happen here today. Omo I knock! As dem ask who be that? I say na room service, say we get small problem with their payment. As the door open, na so I push deacon etim fall.
See deacon Etim, pastor Yemi, the thief dem from yesterday, and all our money and phone as e spread for table.
See I tell them. “ I don already tell my babe wetin dey happen, so if anything do me, she go expose una. Me no wan expose una. My own na say Eye wen see get share. Make una just reason me something and if I talk anything, make thunder fire my papa brother.”
Dem reason am. Reason am. Then dem count like 50k give me. Give me like two of the phones wen I see for the table.
“Merry christmas eh!” na so I tell dem as I dey fall out. After all, na we we.
I waka go up, room 204, naked dey wait my mother christmas, babyrisky. As e dey hot. Na now the christmas merry. As I dey touch the 50k, I dey hear Baby Jesus cry. Ehen! Na now dem born am for my side.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL.
ENDEAVOUR TO SHARE.
THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT SO FAR
@itsunclestephen (IG & Twitter)
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This post was inspired by a harmless statement. I said something funny to a friend and the following words came out of her mouth.
“Steve you’re crazy. I swear you be mad man”
There and then it hit me.
Can I really be a mad man? Do I really have what it takes to be a mad man? What if your village people (cos mine aren’t interested in things like this) having purchased a new mirror, decide to step it up a notch.
After pondering and reflecting on those questions, I came to the conclusion that I don’t have what it takes to become a mad man. I won’t be a good and successful mad man. The following are my reasons.
- I can’t run to save my Life
See ehn, we all know that if the University of Madness (Unimad. No not university of Maiduguri. You guys should not put me in trouble o) were to be admitting people, they won’t be asking for 12 A’s or Credit in Technical Drawing. One of the major requirements will be Can you run? Why, you ask?
Mad man that cannot pursue people is that one even mad man?
Haven’t you seen mad man pursue someone before? Those niggas gat speed bruh. I have always been of the opinion that if we could somehow sneak a mad man into Team Nigeria and take him to the Olympics, then “fork” Usain bolt. We are coming back with that gold medal. The Only problem will be His celebration After Winning. Dude will probably run into the audience and give them celebratory bites.
I gave up all hopes of being good at running when in secondary school; I disappointed the Love of my Life. Ordinary Practice run for Inter-House Sports madam went to go and gather all her friend to watch me. The practice was to take place at FHA field in festac. “eez” not even her I blame its the yeye PHE teacher Mr. Kunle Amudara. (if you’re not ibo you definitely want to know the meaning of this as it was a source of eternal laughter for us)
Probably after drinking too much peak milk, he felt it was in all of us to become great athletes. If only, he would have realized I was no PAPILO and didn’t have any plans to make anybody proud.
On your Marks, he bellowed and I looked over to the side. The boo dey there they give me eye like show them baby. Show them. My Usain. Give it to them.
SET!!! I Heard Mr Amudara scream with all his might. In my mind, I was like my friend don’t shout at me please.
Off we went. Wait! Who am I deceiving? Off they went because as I heard that go, the spirit of Last descended on me. I felt it deeply. In my soul, in my spirit, in my inner man, as in the day of Pentecost, it came upon me. Lord knows I tried. I put in my best effort. I stretched my leg, swung my hands, but the distance between me and the others widened. If I had a spirit animal, it would be a snail. The field wasn’t really the best and as I lagged behind, I was treated to a feast of dust. I don’t know who put the thought in my head to look at my girlfriend and draw inspiration. I was hoping it would help me pick up my speed, “gap” the others, carry first, then go and kiss her as they are wont to do in movies.
It was a Bad choice. Bad what? Bad Choice my good people.
I lost my footing and tumbled like a stuntman that Jet Li just kicked. See dust everywhere looking like the cloud you pass through when you want to enter heaven. Disoriented as I was, when I opened my eyes I saw a face, amidst the cloud of dust. Azzin wait fess, I have died? What a shameless way to die. When the dust cleared up, it was my girlfriend and her friends. They had run to me, and were dusting me up. Kuku kill me. She tried her best to pretend it was ok, that love conquers all, but I knew it. I knew I had embarrassed her existence. The yeye Mr. Amudara even came to tell me
“steve you did your best ehn” – na your papa best go be this I said in my mind
“you’ll try again later ok ?” – Make the thunder of Later fire you dia yeye man
Just look at this bombastic element o.
This happened when I was way younger. Talk more of now. So tell me who will take me serious if as a mad man I cannot pursue and catch people. When the time to run run run pass terry G because i have run mad comes then its me that will now be falling down instead of the person i am pursuing. Tueh!
I have carefully studied the psychology of mad men. What makes them tick? What makes them what they are? How did they get here? I have tried to fathom their outlook and general approach to things, and I have discovered NOTHING.
You people are funny. So you think I go around and study mad men abi? Anyways my second point is the food they eat. Can you select food as a mad man? I select the life out of food. I don’t eat red meat except it is in egusi or ogbono soup. I won’t eat chicken or turkey except its fried. I used to detest eating salad, until one time in school.
The son of man had not eaten for almost two days. I was beginning to see my dead ancestors. I go dey waka for road, I go dey hear voice dey call me “stephen, Stephen”, only for me to turn around to complete emptiness like I was experiencing in my stomach. To make things worse, I was always entering people’s rooms when they had just finished eating. In my sleep, hunger was pressing my neck like an evil spirit making me wake up screaming “Jesus Jesus”.
Eventually, the lord hearkened to my cry and led me to Sister Nneoma’s room. As I entered, there she was eating just salads. He who never fails, my rock and my salvation, the I am that I am, the lord my provider, made her ask me the magic question “steve care to join me?
Care ke? My dear, I have never cared for anything in my life like this before. I care for the food. I care for you. I care about the world, actually caring is one of my biggest problems. Just bring anything for me and before you know it, I start caring. Sister please pass me spoon or can I use hand?
Hunger does things to you. Salad which I detested that day tasted like the biblical bread of life, which after eating, you hunger no more. I ate Nneoma’s salad like I lacked home training. I didn’t give a “fork”. She had a look in her eyes, which reminded me of something Onos my good friend usually said whenever you were taking advantage of him. “Lean on me, no mean say u go press me die”
So my point here is that mad men eat any and everything. So if I was one, Na hunger go kill me last last.
That wasn’t a typo. Have you seen the size of gadgets on those mad men? Their Samsung s8 Curved. Blood of Nigeria. No! I don’t go around looking at mad men’s whatever. But if you could just abandon being a prude for a moment, you’ll realize that what I am saying is true. If you do a census (not physically oh. You pervert) you’ll realize that there is hardly any mad man running naked that isn’t endowed. Take that d’banj
I know that because I am saying this, some of you will start saying “hei so you’re small” wee you sherrup your mouth. I don’t have Pestle, shakabula, 12 inches or my further math teacher’s cane (that shit was fat and long as fuck. And the mad man could lash ontop. Wait that did not sound right. Ignore this please. I veered off a tangent). Neither am I endowed with index finger, toothpick or as I have heard some girls say “e just dey like pikin wen dem born today thing” (in sega mega mortal kombat, this is back back back forward back x…..fatality!!!). And honestly, we all know it’s not about size as you can see from the comments on this my post size matters.
I can hear you in the congregation saying, but Uncle Stephen why are you defending yourself and explaining. Honestly, I am only doing so because of my political ambitions. I intend to be governor of my state one day and it is things like this that kills people’s political careers. When its time to contest now someone will go and print big poster with
How can a SMALL man…. Make Imo bigger and better?
They recruit Pete Edochie to say
Our people say when you want to eat a frog? Eat a BIG frog. Uncle Stephen is a tadpole.
IMO people do you want tadpole?
And there and then, poof! My political career goes up in flames. Because even me myself, I don’t want tadpole.
so yes! That’s another reason I cannot be a mad man. I am ok but I can’t really measure up.
So let’s say theoretically, I somehow against all odds, go insane (notice how that’s sounds sexier than going mad. Sounds like a place you’ll want to go to. Like hey everybody lets all go insane. **funky music plays** **people dancing** wait I need to stop. I’m running mad already).
Back to what I was saying, if it somehow happens, I know my friends. They will go to any length to make sure I get better. They will take me to Pastors who will probably make me drink 5 bottles of olive oil and spray me so much holy water, that I’ll start feeling like that biblical tree in psalms 1 vs. 3, planted by the rivers of water bringing forth fruit in season. If that doesn’t work, you know where they take people whose madness have passed be careful. Yes you got it right- Cele church and we all know how much those guys love their canes.
I am not a “Chester “of cane (if you don’t know what it means to chest cane. I do not forgive you. Be gone from this blog). There are people out there, like Kehinde from back in the day, who could get lashed two thousand strokes without flinching. Her strategy was to close her eyes, and detach herself from her body. Trust me baba. I tried. My physical eyes might be closed, but my spiritual eyes will take full cognizance of the cane I was about to receive. I might try to separate myself from my body, but the pain will grab my wanting to detach spirit, and impress itself on it. I think the only time I did not scream when I was flogged, was here bar-Jesus and of course no be ordinary eye. It was that my babe again.
Pls pls pls pls pls.Excuse me biko.
I’m no sissy. How about one boy in my class rattus rattus ( I swear I don’t remember his real name now) who when our further math teacher flogged him with his cane whose characteristics I have already described above ( I won’t describe again. You pavatz). He ran out of the school. I don’t kid you. Man ran out of the class, ran downstairs, ran past baba gateman and kept running till he got to his house. Sad thing was his father brought him to school the next day and on finding out why his son came home, collected one of the canes from the further math teacher, locked him up in a classroom and did collabo flogging on Him. Tomorrow now if the boy becomes a serial killer they will say they don’t know how it happened.
So if my friends decide to take me for deliverance, and those cele people give me three strokes, best believe that madness and I are going our separate ways. But then that will be a problem because if I get easily delivered, I know how Nigerians are. They will either think I was pretending to be mad and continue flogging me, or think that I am pretending to be healed, and continue flogging me. Till most likely, like rattus rattus ,I run away from them to the ends of the earth.
- 5.Beardless Gang
This for me, is the one that hits close to home. What serious mad man out there does not grow beards? I mean its not like mad men enter barbing salon to carve their beards, or read up articles on how to join beard gang. It just grows. Who will take a baby faced mad man serious. It’s that rough full beards and spiky bushy hair, that prevents market women from chasing them, when they steal bread and run away. I need no one to tell me that they will chase me to the ends of the earth, if I try stealing bread with this my stubble. It’s not like I haven’t tried. What haven’t I rubbed? Methylated spirit, Early morning urine (don’t blame me somebody said it works and I was desperate) I have tried everything, but this beards have refused to grow. I even remember one barber that wanted to allow the devil use him. Beer beer when I don dey train for almost 5 months and was looking like it was about to defy the odds, man was carrying clipper close to it. It goes without saying, that I put my hand in my pocket, brought out my palm frond, cowries and chalk. I Drew circles on the ground with the chalk, drew lines on my face, threw the cowries into the circle i had drawn on the ground, put the palm frond on my ear, summoned my inner chinwetalu agu and cursed Him.
Please ehn, I appeal to you guys. I beg of you in the name of the lord.If you know how to help me in this aspect, please leave a comment abeg. I need my beards to connect. Not because I want to be a good mad man. I just want to tension women. That’s all. Help please.
I hope from these few points of mine, you can see that I cannot run mad. So for those of you who read stuff on this blog and comment “guy u mad gaan” or “oh steve! You’re so crazy”, and those other comments that incline towards madness, that your village people make you type, you can see it will never work.
Because If somehow against all odds, I manage to grow beards, become able to run fast, stop selecting food, gain the ability to chop cane and have mad-standard thing, my biggest consolation that I won’t run mad is this.
If amidst the hardship, the exchange rate, the skyrocketing unemployment figures, the darkness, the arrest due to naming dog something, the inability to pay athletes their money, I have somehow still not run mad in this country, then I may never ever run mad. Because like they say in Game of thrones, what is dead may never die. Valar morghulis.
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@itsunclestephen (IG & Twitter)
“Oga come down Na! come down!” The molue conductor screamed at Him, angrily.“I no fit! I no fit!” he replied painfully as he struggled without success to stand up from his seat . Unlike a scene from a Nollywood movie, this was not the brainchild of a good script writer and a special effects guy.
My guy nyash don gum for the seat.
“Hei….. I don die….temi ti tan” he said in between sobs and the sudden perspiration that poured unrestrained from his sweat pores. When situations like this arise, Nigerians are very skeptical about being their brother’s keeper. His outstretched hands seeking assistance in pulling him out, was met by an unspoken agreement by the other commuters to give him space and observe from afar. My village people are good at three things: Going to the stream to fetch water, ‘Doing’ new yam festival, and knowing how to manipulate situations like this to ensure that I end up in the worst seat available. With the myriad of sitting and standing options available in this bus, I had somehow become posited beside this sit-tight “Mr. Mugabe”. I wasn’t just beside Mugabe but at the window seat while he was on the aisle meaning I could go nowhere and was a firm fixture of his government.Being the closest to Him as others had either fled the bus or were beyond reach, he kept dragging my hand crying that I help him. However, all I could see any time a part of his body touched mine, was osmosis of the jazz molecules making him and the power holding him to the seat inseparable.
Most times, the signs are there. Various unseen pointers, whispering to you as still small occurrences try to give you foresight about how the day is going to pan out but we never notice. It’s like Pastor Yemi -who-drinks-Big-stout says, “u shidren ov the world u don’t have a dizanin spirit. If only u can leen down and pray you wee ear from d lord” .
First, it was NEPA playing the game of ‘Change your style’ with the light. I can’t fathom how you take and restore power 5 times in 10minutes. Azzin don’t you have the fear of God? Times like this, I always imagine people’s fathers, grown men going to the panel singing “change your style” Light goes OFF “Another style” ON. I often wonder. Don’t they care about the plethora of curses being heaped on them by Nigerians? Some say these curses don’t work. Then how do you explain the misadventures of my friend Progress Onwubiko for whom probably to spite his name, things always seemed never to work out for. Who always blanked out in the exam hall when only the night before he was surfeited with knowledge on whatever course it was he was to take. Who if he was in front of you in a Long ATM queue, you could be sure that the machine will write on its screen “FOREVER UNABLE TO DISPENSE CASH” once it got to his turn(I kid you not I have seen it happen innumerable times). Friends and foes alike were in agreement that there was only one explanation. Mr. Onwubiko was a Transmission Station Operator which translates to the guy who switches your light off or on. He was the guy who all our pained vitriol are indirectly directed at. Consequently, this was a classic case, of the sins work of the father was being visited on Progress.
When Mr. Onwubiko Nepa managed to stop changing styles and keep the light Long enough for me to Iron my trouser, the electric iron like a scorned lover gave my trouser the kiss of death. It Ensured that this particular pair which I wore only for important occasions was no longer fit for purpose forever. (Sign Number One). When I managed to come up with a denouement to my what-do-I-wear situation that didn’t break the “what not to wear for an interview rule”, I didn’t feel as confident as I would have if I was wearing what I had ab initio planned to. The fact that I was wearing my good luck boxers did nothing to assuage my somber demeanor.
Ehn eh! Excuse me. Don’t even give me that look. I have good luck boxers what now happen? Let me not give you an anthology of my good luck boxers. Ok maybe some laconic ones. It was what I was wearing the day Ngozi with-big-nyash, who said she would never Love a guy like me, kissed me and revealed that she had been besotted with me for a long time. It was what I was wearing the day a stranger gave me 20k on the road saying that her pastor revealed she should do good to a stranger if she wanted the fruit of the womb. I collected the money and did not change to Yam. You think its ordinary eye? Good luck boxers noni.
I stepped out of the house feeling like a million bucks rumpled N50 note given to a police man at an illegal check point,locked the burglary proof,and turned around to see her. Sitting, looking at me like “Ehen so you finally came out eh?”. It was my neighbor’s cat Jennifer. You can call me Fetish, jejune, callow, whatever you want. In retrospect, this was Sign Number Two. Why? See this is not the abroad. The Widely accepted pet here is dog not busu! as my grandmother calls cats. Any type of Dog- Ekwuke, bingo, sparky, Buhari and we are okay with it. (Ok! Any name except buhari. I mean someone got arrested for naming their dog Buhari). Even in the highly educative nollywood, when witches and wizard want to change to something. What do they change to? Is it not Cat? Not lion, not tiger, not elephant. They change to Black cat. Even more reason why i was convinced that this was a sign of a bad foreboding, was that I have never had good experiences with Jenifer’s, talk more of black ones. From the one, who copied my work in exams and got an A while I got E, to the one who arrested me and my friend because my friend, not me, broke her heart. To the Jennifer who was infatuated with me and her boyfriend, a capon of a deadly cult in another school, showed me that after the reggae, comes the black and blue beating. (remind me to tell you this gist on another day)
So also, I should have known this Jennifer, slowly walking behind me as I headed to the gate and letting out a sinister “meow” as I faded from view, wasn’t going to be any better. If like Pastor Yemi-who-drinks-big-stout would say, I had the eyes of my unastanin open, I would have realized that “meow” translated to “your own don finish today”.
“hayssss bike, bustop” I flagged down a bike man who in trying to stop for me, nearly “jammed” me. As I spread my Legs to mount the bike, I heard it-the slow quiet hiss of my trouser like a dissenting wife who didn’t agree with her husband’s view on a matter but couldn’t express it loudly. Sign number what? Number Three. On Later examination of the tear, I realized that I could manage it if I spent the day pretending I was wearing skirt and sitting with my legs not too open. On alighting from the bike, the “okada” guy gave me one of the most wretched N100 note I had ever seen in my life. The N100 note and Chief Obafemi Awolowo on it were weary from their journey through various squeezing-happy hands. If you looked closely at the money, you could see it crying for help. Like “baba abeg free me. Use your church mind, your fear of God mind, no spend me again abeg. Just plant me.I don waka tire”
There was a ruckus at the bustop. I was trying my best to ignore it and walk on seeing time was a luxury i could not afford. Undeterred like those pastors in commercial buses in Lagos, the message invaded my ears nevertheless.
Someone’s Penis had been stolen.
Sign Number “Capital Letter” Four.
Tell me. How many times do you actually come across a situation where someone’s penis was actually stolen? This is the kind of news you read of in PM news Newspaper alongside a story that someone gave birth to Yam in a hospital in Sango-ota or ikorodu. That kind of thing never happens at Reddington hospital in Lekki or those hospitals where they pay huge money to deliver children (not pikin). After you pay big money for that kind atmosphere, even Yam go change begin cry sexy cry like human being. This is why i say unreservedly, may thunder fire poverty. Commingling the piecemeal stories from different sources at the bustop, someone had asked a man for directions, touched the man, and made away with his penis. (Ok! LOL maybe made away isn’t the proper word but I couldn’t resist. I know it paints a picture in your head that the guy just took it, started running and had the other guy shouting thief! Thief as he tried to “RECOVER” it).
I have never understood the workings of this penis disappearing business. Some say it disappears and the region becomes completely flat. Others say that it only shrinks.Some say it just doesn’t rise again while some believe that what actually happens is that it’s just some “balls” that get missing. Personally, I Don’t care for how it happens just make my thing no Loss.
No doubt sent by my village people, as I alighted from the bus at Ikeja Under bridge to take a keke to Allen, after escaping the hands of those boys steady asking you to do “pink lips”or draw “tantuuu”, Someone tapped me on my shoulder and asked “bros please where do i get a bus going to maryland”. “In hell fire if I don’t find my penis” I replied in My head while spinning around immediately to see this person who wanted to take the Joy of manhood away from me.
I sized him up.
He was well dressed and didn’t look like someone who was into that kind of business. In any case, you can never be too sure. It could be that the black “Jehovah’s witness” bag he was carrying wasn’t filled with documents like he wanted us to believe and was rather filled with presidents, inventors and world changers who would never see the light of day.
I answered Him pointing out where he should go. He thanked me and i was then faced with an arduous task. How do I in a public,rowdy place like Ikeja carry out like the Rotracts have, the 4 way test to ensure intactness of my Something. How do i confirm the following without looking like a pervert- Is it still there? Has it shrunk? Are the balls still complete? and the hardest of them all, like the biblical Dry bones can it rise again?. I managed to carry out three of the 4 way test, while my eyes were following the movement of the suspect religiously. Peradventure, like the Israelite in the bible, i had to pursue and recover all. I left the last test to my Lord who never fails because there was no real way of establishing its veracity.
I implore you, never for a moment think those unemployment percentages they read out in the News are mere numbers until you go for a test or an interview. Every so often,it becomes a kind of reunion. People who you haven’t seen for years are there. Senior’s who left secondary school when you were in JSS1 and you thought must have gotten grandchildren are also there. Ex-girlfriends who swore that e no go ever better for you are there, and of course, as i got to the venue for the interview, settled in and scanned my eyes around the room, Progress Onwubiko was also here.
I tried my best to believe, that today would be different. That maybe all the other times it had happened were just coincidental. That as one of the HR person called Progress to come for his interview and someone else whispered into her ear as she was about to lead him to face the panel, they would say something different but no. It happened again.
“sorry candidates we will continue the interviews tomorrow. we apologize for whatever inconvenience we might have caused.” That terse statement and that was the end. Nna eh! tufiakwa this progress of a boy.
Over five hours of waiting, a torn trouser and probably a penis that may never rise up to a challenge again, i asked myself Can it get any worse? In time i was answered.
Like a snake swallowing a prey greater than its body size, Molue buses are known for carrying more passengers than should naturally fit into them. Inside it, some passengers are seating while some are standing. Sweaty bodies are rubbing against each. Concurrent conversations from commuters are merging together to form noise which competes with the tired,earsplitting sound produced by the engines, to raise the decibel levels to within the margin required to become deaf. Unavoidably most times, you find a troublemaker who just wants to pick a fight with any and everybody in the bus.
Barely 15 minutes from when he boarded the bus, he had quarreled with the conductor, threatened to Slap someone else, Asked another “you know who I be?” and was currently giving it hot to another woman with the words.
“your mama left nyash”.
“stupid man”the object of his vitriol replied.
“oga. e don do na. why you dey exchange words up and down like woman” another passenger said trying to calm him down.
“ehen. Lawyer without certificate. who bring you inside this matter” he replied the peace maker.
The melee the man was causing was so much that an old man told him in the most reasonable way possible, to keep shut and please allow peace reign in the bus. To which he replied “na your children, your mama, your papa and even your igwe and village people go sherrup”
GHEN GHEN GHEN GHEN
Some people don’t know when to stop. “dem say the last piss na im dey stain nicker”. He had gotten away with insulting everybody but him no look face well before he talk this last one. He had just insulted the wrong person. How often do you see an old man who looked as fetish as this one did. Albino, completely white hair kept in an afro, sporting a red shirt, a cowrie looking bead on his wrist and deep set darting eyes. He looked like those Baba’s that ask Kanayo O. Kanayo “can you do what it takes?” when he comes to do money ritual in Nollywood movies. Like the god himself not even the native doctor, that gives Patience Ozokwor the Charm she uses to poison her husband’s first wife. To make matters worse, the seat beside my opened up right at the time Mugabe insulted the baba and even though the baba was closer, he somehow muscled his way to the seat before old age let the man do so. When others tried to reason with him, he hurled more invective words at them.
Baba looked at Him, and smiled. Looked at me also as if to say won’t you say something to help my case? but as Lagos will teach you, it is better most times to keep quiet and that choice, became my undoing. He face was smiling, but his deep-set eyes were seething with rage. In my mind’s eye, his head was burning with the thought of what evil thing he was going to do to Mugabe making his white afro seem like the resulting smoke from the furnace going on within his head. As if on cue, my mind replaced the noise in the bus with the soundtrack from that old nigerian movie Igodo that comes on, whenever something bad was about to happen to them in the evil forest “hmmmmmmm ebelebe iya!(repeat until chorus fades)”. I expected the old man to bring out a chicken draped with red cloth to curse Mugabe. Instead, with his pseudo-smile, he touched him on his shoulder, touched the seat, and said “keep sitting down eh! my son”
“mile two?” The conductor Inquired. “owa” several voices responded. Mugabe’s voice the loudest of the bunch. “better no even try pass the bustop o…. or thunder go fire your mama boyfriend”. Two minutes Later, the bus arrived at Mile 2, and there was chaos because Mugabe had become an item with his seat. He tried severally to get up and each time he tried and failed, I died inside because i was sitting on the same seat. I tried to get up, but something held my shirt back.I refrained from trying again, because if i did and i was unable to get up, i will just die.
I mean how does this JAZZ thing work. For example, say you were frolicking with someone and another person sent all this “bouncer” thunder that use to have chest and do Press up before coming, to fire the person you were with. Will it be able to separate and just fire only that person, or fire the both of you. So how was i to know that the jazz on the seat knew were to draw the line. shey jazz dey dey logical?
We all knew that baba was responsible for this but no one wanted to confront him and beg. Especially not on behalf of Mugabe who had made enemies of lots of people in the bus. With each try to get up, his faith waned while mine was long dead and in the tomb.Mugabe cried, pleaded with the baba, begged in English ,Yoruba and Ibo while i did the same, but in my heart. Eventually,people mustered up courage to join in his pleading. After what seemed like ages, the baba stood up, and declared that Mugabe would only be free if he brought the tail of a tortoise, the teeth of a snake, the Liver of an elephant, and most importantly, the eye of a spider. LOL. He really didn’t say that but that was what i was expecting based on what you see in movies.
Instead, he plucked out a strand of hair from his head, asked Mugabe to swallow it. Brought out a ring from His pocket, hit it on his head, and then declared that for him to be free finally, he had to be slapped by Seven Women, whom he pointed out(4 of them had even been insulted by Mugabe).
There was also a catch. He could not scream.
According to the baba, if he screamed, the gods would cancel that slap. See ehn, me too i didn’t really think the gods said that but as my friend ONOS will say, “when mad man don pursue your mama before. If she see mechanic na she go first run”. The women were reluctant to comply, but one of the women who Mugabe had told that Her head looked like bicycle seat, stepped forward and Landed one.
It resonated deeply within my soul. Hell hath no fury like when an angry woman slaps you. Mugabe wanted to Shout. He wanted to call on His ancestors, but last minute he held it back like,
Tozaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Taiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. The slaps kept coming. It started becoming funny, and people on the bus were even Laughing. Other women were even wishing they too could slap. I could even see a wry smile forming on the Baba’s face. When it was time for the last two women to slap, he insisted that the slaps must be backhand slap. Mugabe was in pains. He needed to call 911. He was sweating and looking like.
Women can slap abeg. Me i was just praying that the slap was going to be enough to release the two of us. Because if these women slap me my own eh
After slap number 7, the baba told him to apologize, to everybody he had insulted which he did amidst his tears and sniffs. He looked like what we were like in secondary school after our further maths teacher thrashes your soul and tells you to tell him Thank you. Your mouth is saying thanks but in your heart is an unspoken God punish you. He then held his hand, and lifted him up. The baba also promised him, that any day in His life he was ever rude to an old person, something worse would happen. Mugabe laid on the ground, thanking the baba profusely, swearing on his Life that he would never be unruly again. He came down at his bustop and the Journey Continued. I was to alight at the next bustop. Others said “owa” when the conductor called “Maza-Maza” but I was quiet. Deep in Prayers. I tried to stand up but something held me back. I tried and tried gently, careful not to draw attention to myself. I did not want to look back lest i see the hand holding me back.I tried one more time, heard a rip, and i was set free. My shirt had hooked on to one end of the rickety seat and that was why i was being held back.
PrAY PRAAAAAAISEEEEEE MASTER JESUS
I alighted from the bus and it sped off. I crossed over to the other side, bought pure water, before thirst kills me. I found a bike home, who do I see also alighting from another bike as i was trying to pay my own bike man?.The baba. He was also walking into my compound. I look in front of me, there she is again. The cat Jennifer. So baba behind me, Cat in front of me. I tried not to walk too fast so the man does not suspect i am trying to get away from him. I had almost made the staircase, when he called me, asked to confirm if i was actually the one beside Mugabe in the bus, and if i lived here. As i was about to respond, my neighbor, the owner of Jennifer screamed “Daddy”.
I said it….
Is not ordinary hand they used to use and have cat as pet. Her father was a baba. I knew it.
They hugged, and as they were about going upstairs, he turned, winked at me and put his hand across his lips to indicate i don’t say anything. Look at this man. Say what? Do i even know you? Have i ever met you before? Am i fool who-says-there-is-no-God that i will say anything? So that I’ll talk and my lips will gum together. Thank You sir. I say nothing.
I had my bath, relaxed into the sitting room couch, switched on the t.v to see if i could see something that would take my mind off the crazy day. Showing on the Television, was a Documentary on Mugabe.I knew enough already. He talks anyhow, holds on to power, and it will take something supernatural to pry him away from his seat of power. I switched channel to a church program where the pastor’s topic was “dry bones shall rise again” I remembered the last of the 4-way test, which i had not completed, and promptly placed my hand at that part, when the television pastor requested us to put our hands on any place in our bodies we had an ailment. At that same time, my phone rang “progress Onwubiko“and i heard Jennifer Meow loudly outside.
I shook my head. na wa! These village People never relent.
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NB: I found a picture of what the baba would probably have looked like, when he was younger.
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For those who continually comment here, mail me, reach out on BBM and all other platforms whenever i disappear see eh! thank you very much. Combining humor writing and this administration is not easy but your kind words keep me coming back. I pray for you today, that Your children will not look like your landlord.
“Baby Boy, I am Pregnant”. The SMS was succinct, surreal and well timed to without doubt, deliver the shock the sender wanted me to have.
After three straight days of drinking Garri in school, my parents finally decided to send me something instead of their customary “Manage eh! Nna” which I always got whenever I requested for money. On receiving the Alert I proceeded to MAMA G restaurant to chop Life. Continue reading
This should be the first time I am officially ranting on this blog or rather writing something that isn’t a story. But like the Holy Book says, there is a time for everything. It is not news that sex, or anything that involves sex, sells. Even if you don’t believe it, one strong proof is that you are here reading this blog post. I don’t know how it is you received the Link for this post. Whether your village people ministered it to you in your dreams, or you saw it on someone’s PM or on twitter or even Facebook and decided to click it, we all know that if this post was titled, “LOOK HERE AND SEE AN IMPORTANT GOSPEL MESSAGE” 90% of you would not have opened it. That said, you are already here so no need to close the link in penance for your actions. After all Francis Duru said in Rattlesnake part 2 that whatever is worth doing is worth doing well.
I would like to thank Dr. Azoh a.k.a Bro. UG who is the primary inspiration behind today’s rant. I must make it clear, that he isn’t a friend whom I have met; neither can I confirm what kind of Dr. he is, whether medical, traditional, spiritual or even metaphysical. But this kind Dr. as I would want to believe he is, never fails to send the below e-mail to me twice everyday. Morning and Evening.
I put up this picture on my BBM DP this morning, to complain about this new method my Village people were using to pursue me and bam! Come and see gist from my wonderful contacts. I shall share with you the varying reactions I got from them but let us just spare a minute to analyze the above E-mail from my point of view.
First of all (do not go down low), just notice how both messages start with “Hello Dear”.(e pained me aswearigod, who is his dear eh bikonu). This, I want to assume is a way of saying “My guy” “Fam” “My personal person” azzin it is meant to show that he, Dr. Azoh, is nothing but a friend concerned about the size of your penis and has come to help you.
The Second line, abides by a standard rule of letter writing-Greeting. The part that touched me deeply is “hope you are doing good, JUST LIKE ME.” GHEN GHEN. This is just a master stroke. I mean, how can you market a product when you are not doing good. How can you sell cough medicine if you are having cough, hence I’m sure DR. Azoh, my good friend, wherever he is, implies that this good news he has brought,has ensured that he is always doing good and if you want to be like him, you need to listen carefully.
After greeting, what is the next thing in a well written letter? If you guessed “The Body”, then you parents did not waste their school fees money. See let me tell you. The subject of a letter, (which in this case is aptly titled “how to make your penis bigger, thicker and stronger with OPEN NOW put in bracket, to ensure you do not shove it aside,) might give a hint of what you want to talk about, but you see the body eh, is where you pour out the deep things in your heart and he goes on to do just this. He says “if you are a strong man and don’t have big penis to satisfy your woman”. My brothers and sisters, Let us stop here for a moment and understand this Line. Just close your eyes, take a minute and just reflect on these words. Even if it means turning off the lights in your room and adopting yoga position, my brother or sister do it.Because man hath not revealed this thing to the Doc. In essence, what he is trying to say if i understand well, is that you can be a strong man, you can have big chest and 20 packs. You can break okada into two with just breeze from your mouth. You can bend iron with your bare hands like SuperMike in ajegunle, but if you do not have a BIG penis to satisfy your woman, you need to be afraid, perturbed, unhappy because you will soon notice something.
I honestly do not know whether if you are weak man without big penis you will notice the same thing. But it is safe to deduce that if a strong man without big kini will notice something then my friend who art thou not to notice the same thing. In fact I want to suggest, that if you are a weak man and you are not noticing what he says will happen, then your village people are at it again and you need to attend one of our topic-specific Nigerian crusades with the title “LORD DO NOT ALLOW MY ENEMIES MAKE ME NOT TO NOTICE SOMETHING” (somebody scream halleluyah!, ummmm the spirit is moving)
The next part is the revelation. This is where you need to play a slow titanic music in your head. This is the part where the babe the actor has suffered for all through the film has been shot and he is watching the life leave her eyes. This is the part where the breeze blew and the fowl’s annal cavity was revealed to the sons of men.
The Doc. says that you will NOTICE that the woman you ADORE, the woman you magnify, the woman you praise, the woman you glorify, the woman you lift her name up high not just a little oh! But VERY MUCH will be cheating on you. LOBATAN!.To round it off he says to you “Don’t let this happen to you, get your own BIG,STRONG AND THICK PENIS. QED.
The funny thing is that this e-mail summarizes why girls cheat on their man. It boils it down, narrows it down, simplifies it to two words BIG PENIS. Pere!. The simple question now is: How true is this? Is this the point where we shout EUREKA for Doc’s amazing discovery?. I put this up as my DP obviously to complain about why I was getting such an email and to verify if this was the truth and my people eh! No kind response wey I no see this morning.
First there were the people who were happy they were not the only ones receiving this email. They had been feeling bad and were wondering how the doc knew they didn’t have big kini and were happy to have kindred spirit. Somebody pinged me like “Uncle Stephen, u too? You receive this email? Have you called their number. I have ordered my own o and I hope it works. I thought it was only me they were sending this message”. Honestly I didn’t know if to start convincing the young man that I wasn’t FAM, once it came to this matter or to go naked and swear for him for thinking I would order the product. Then there were the guys who came with their own story of how babes left them because their whatever wasn’t touching their medulla Oblongata. I was thinking the thing was story and that size doesn’t matter until voom the female pings started entering. Somebody say Blood of Goodluck Jonathan. My people, I can now see why DR. Azoh is in business because the things this girls want eh! If na the way dem dey describe then you will notice them cheating like the Doc said. One said “ah! He must be very big and very thick and very long (only one person o!) I need to feel as if I am flying and suspended in outer space” In my mind I was like is superman that this one wants azzin Clark Kent. You want to be suspended mid-air weyrey!
Somebody even sent me a link to an article online talking about this same penis size topic and my people I just kept pleading the blood of GEJ as I read through. The prior article to that has just 10 comments but as e enter kini matter come and see 130 comments almost 100 of them female. You’ll see things like “who needs somebody with cigar to come and be touching me. God forbid. My man has to be very big azzin I need to feel like izz a sword that is piercing through me entire being” or “doing it with my current boyfriend is just there because it isn’t big and it makes me remember my ex. With his soldier. I always felt it was snake in the monkey shadow and whenever we were done I couldn’t even remember my name or surname or even where I was. I couldn’t stop going back for more. I miss him and wish I could take it one more time”
I was like
Obviously women take these things seriously and that is why there are thousands like my Doc. friend out there trying to make sure that you don’t lose the one you adore. I been think so no be about size but say na HOW well. But the kind of things am reading and these women of nowadays eh! Only God can help us. But on the other hand is good for all you men out there. shebi na una dey make dem wear butt pad and padded bra because una want oganigwe. Its only fair that they demand for sword-like penis that can pierce their being, suspend them in mid-air, do them like snake in the monkey shadow whilst causing amnesia and making them want to take transport to wherever you are because like they said in that song, “charlie she wants more”.
So for my guys out there please contact DR. Azoh so she doesn’t leave you like he has prophesied. And for my women out there how big is big exactly bikonu I want to hear una voice before somebody no go fit wear trouser again because e dey try satisfy una.
And as for DR. Azoh please I beg you in the name of whoever you serve. I have spread your message to a wider audience please stop sending me the e-mails please because I am strong and I can satisfy my woman because I have a Big …… nevermind…..
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