The Easter Chicken

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.

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Ghetto Christmas

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.

Deacon Etim.


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.

Check out!

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.





Your Favourite,
Uncle Stephen
@itsunclestephen (IG & Twitter)

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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.

(Enters Mugabe)

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”




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,


Hold it in or die trying bruh

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.

Una no dey Pity person?


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


Lord knows this is what will happen

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.




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.


Thanks for Reading.


We will be calling for submissions soon for our Humor book. watch @

NB: I found a picture of what the baba would probably have looked like, when he was younger.

Lord knows this is him. I don't care what you people say.

Lord knows this is him. I don’t care what you people say.

Your Favourite,
Uncle Stephen
@itsunclestephen (IG & Twitter)


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 is not one of those normal posts where I tell a story of my Life and make you Laugh.
Not today.
If you want a funny birthday story read happy birthday

Its my Birthday and i’ll try and sound very deep like aristotle.
There are so many reasons to be happy on your birthday.
You just succeeded in adding one more year to your Life despite your Haters wanting to bring you down, that is if you have haters o, or despite your village people always doing meeting for you in the village square. People keep asking me what is it with me and village people and I tell them that if it’s you that big mosquitoes and many other wicked creatures are lurking around in bushes to bite and somebody else is in another place not thinking about any of these things, living the life, taking selfies and turning up, it will just be natural for you to beef them.

Growing up makes you realise plenty things. As a child you know that mummy and daddy gave birth to you. What they did to give birth to you, you don’t know or why it is that mummy’s tommy is big again and she said is daddy that did it is also unknown to you. But when you grow up and realise how exactly to make a mummy’s stomach big, you can’t look at your daddy the same way and prefer not to even think the events that must have taken place.

Or is it how parents tell you that all the money visitors usually give you, that you gave to them, they used it to buy pants and socks for later grow up and realise that pants and socks dont cost that much. Please mum if you read this, I have calculated it you owe me about N50,000

Childhood innocence also makes you believe so many things which when you grow up, you can’t believe you fell for such. How many of you were told that when your biscuit falls on the ground, devil has eaten it. I know how many times in my mind I wondered why devil won’t just buy his own biscuits. And everytime my “okin” biscuit fell on the ground, my imagination just immediately brought a hand out of the ground and I saw it taking my biscuit and pulling it inwards.hence I concluded that such an entity that specialised in collecting little children’s biscuit must be wicked as they say in sunday school. Years Later,I refused to be fooled anymore, if the hand one dey comot for ground, I dey match the hand collect my biscuit for ground. Devil no know Iya Wasiu shop? He should go and buy his own joor.

Growing up, you also realise that you can no longer bath outside under the rain with sandra, Shola and Hafisat because their mummy told them that they should not allow boys to see or touch that boil growing on their chest.

You also wake up one morning and realise that your voice has broken and you now sound more like daddy but without the plenty hairs on his chin. (If as a guy your voice hasn’t broken till now, this is surely your village people. Find hammer and break it yourself. ). I Know how many times while growing up, I was forced to rub spirit under my chin so I can grow beards which until now that I write this, I have only about 26.63 strands of beards under my chin. I fully intend to find a church holding a crusade titled “you evil people, Let my beard Grow” because thankfully these churches these days are holding crusades targeted at a particular cause or enemy like this ones below.


Time passes very quickly. All of a sudden you wake up in the morning and realise that your Oga down below now stands at attention every morning, saluting the unseen NSCDC oga. I remember explaining this particular problem to my mother and all she told me is that “my son this is even easier to live with than what girls your age go through”. When I found out what girls my age go through at that stage, my brother, anyday I wake up and Jnr no wake up with me I go know say wahala don burst.

Then a time comes when babes begin to cause reactions in your body you never imagined where possible. I remember in JSS3 when we went for an excursion and the bus spoilt. They crammed all of us into one bus and I was sitting down. I politely offered **name withdrawn for security reasons** my laps to sit on instead of her standing. When she sat down comfortably and was moving her behind comfortably on my leg like say she dey ontop water bed na him gbege wan burst. Everybody dey bus dey gist I just dey look bush to deviate my attention from the biological reaction that was occuring on my lap. If you see the way I concentrate dey look bush like say I be horticulturist eh, yet e no work. Becuase like they say, you cannot cheat nature. Till today I know she must have felt something like biro chooking her but I guess her motto was better a chooking biro, than a girl standing for five hours.

Then University comes and goes with tons of crazy experiences depending on the type of friends you kept. You call your parents and add ontop of the school fees. They laugh and still send you the money and you feel like you have scammed them. But it depends on the kind of parents oh! Some parents dey binu. Be like one of my guy don do the thing too much the papa go meet HOD straight ask am how much be school fees. This nigga had been adding almost 100k on it. Well safe to say the HOD became almost like his guardian and the father was sending both feeding money straight to HOD and my guy go go discuss in not more than five sentences with the HOD why he needed money to eat.

But all in all, Growing up means a lot of responsibilities, Life takes a whole new meaning. Now your father is asking “son, what do you want to do with your life” when aforehand no body cared what you did with your life. You realise that money is not an easy thing to get, and you hail your parents who took care of you from cradle to the point where you are at now. Especially when I and my friends during NYSC wanted to buy baby food as gift for our neighbor who just gave birth. When we enter the store come price baby food eh! .Blood of **insert the blood you like best here**. We were shocked. So as a young man when you remember how much it costs to buy baby food, and take care of a woman you’ll understand the inspiration behind 2face singing “Young man, be careful and think it twice. Before you choose to use(2x) to use your device” notice the emphasis on device usage by the 2baba. My man don buy cerelac and Huggies tire e gast warn others.

And to think that one day,time will also pass and I will become a very old man. Not be able to barb a hairstyle of my choice because I might have been saddled with bald hair, not being able to walk without assistance from someone else or a walking stick . Not be able to remember what day of the week it is, or which of my grand Children exactly is sitting on my Laps. Not be able to see all the beautiful women that the Good Lord has put on the earth because of my failing eyesight. Not be able to drink anymore because am sure the doctors will say its bad for my health. And most importantly not be able to perform because all the linings on my waist must have worn out, I choose to live a good life, put as much Laughter on the faces of people, as much as I can and ensure that like my Grandfather once told me, when I asked him why he always sat alone,staring into space and smiling “son I have made sure that in my Life I have created more good memories to balance the bad ones that life throws on me. Make sure you do the same”

So on this day that the Lord has added another year to my Life, I thank Him cos no be by my power. Also special thanks go to my village people, you guys give me reasons to continue pushing on and staying strong. To my family whose prayers have continually sustained me, una too much. To my boo, chai! I love you too much. And finally to all of you who continually read this blog and even without knowing me in person, have continually with your kind words, and continuous sharing of my stories, turned something which I started out of boredom into one of the biggest and best things to have happened to me, just kneel down let me pray for you.
“your village people, shall never catch you, in Jesus name” AMEN

Included below are some funny old pictures I found of myself online. Looking back at them now, I still dont understand what I was thinking when I posted them online. But you know this village people they will use their mirror log into your account on facebook and be posting embarassing pictures….

Thanks for the Birthday wishes, DP’s,Emails, sadly once again I didn’t get calls this year for reasons beyond my control.

Read other funny stories here all stories

Your Favourite,
Uncle Stephen
BBM: 7B749FD0

After a particularly bad exam back in school. i kept wondering which way nigeria.

After a particularly bad exam back in school. i kept wondering which way nigeria.

This was me, slimming down so i can act as a somalian terrorist in Captain Phillips

This was me, slimming down so i can act as a somalian terrorist in Captain Phillips

Forget the dressing. There i was in the middle like the ladies man i was way back in secondary school

Forget the dressing. There i was in the middle like the ladies man i was way back in secondary school

cant remember if i was High or not.... but i had to snap too biko

cant remember if i was High or not…. but i had to snap too biko

one show i went for and they refused to pay me. i couln't smile abeg

one show i went for and they refused to pay me. i couln’t smile abeg

The Toasting II


Once again,We made the Shortlist for the 2013 Nigerian Blog awards in the “Best Humor Blog” Category because so many of you took your time to vote for us. Now na Leen down I leen down. I take God beg una…. Voting has started and we need to win. If not for anything, do it and let us shame my Village people. Biko, Ejoor just click here,VOTE FOR US or on the nominee Badge. Fill your e-mail and name and go to our category (Best Humor Blog) and check for our name “Home Of Humor Stories”. If you get any e-mail, please click the link to confirm your vote. I love you all (no homo guys, its 14years).
To Fully Enjoy/Gbadun dis story,READ PART ONE HERE The Toasting




I couldn’t continue like this….
I knew I needed external help and I knew where to get it.

The term was almost ending. We were done with our examinations and were at that period where you just come to school and play for about 2 weeks whilst teachers compiled results to determine who had carried first and who had carried kpo!

I had two weeks to get the girl I had always dreamed about…Shade in SS1b.
From my private investigations, she was still single and she liked me. But she was a girl na, so I had to muster up the courage to tell her ‘the koko’.

When Monday morning came, I walked up to Joel. The man with the Plan. The man who had 3 babes inside one school and it was all going smoothly. He was the last of 7 boys, so he had learnt the ropes perfectly from his elder ones. He knew what to say, what to do to make you laugh. I had even seen him cry for a babe when things got tough and he had for eternity always convinced me that there was nothing hard there. “Just go, look the babe deep inside her eyes”, he would say “and the words go just dey come outside”

LASTma like me, if I followed the same process, the only words that would come out of my mouth would be “My friend, park here!”.

“Na you dey dull yourself. I dey see dat girl eye, she love you die but you need to say something. See, women are like that”, He started with his pep talk again. “You need to make her feel wanted”, (he said whilst imitating a hug). “You need to go close to her” (he stepped close to me).
“You need to look into her eyes (He looked into my own eye) and just say it slowly with all the emotions you can (his face quickly compressed to reveal that what he was about to say was from deep within). Shade, I can’t stop thinking about you.” The words came so slowly, so from somewhere that could easily be described as the bottom of his heart, that I could understand why girls loved this boy.

“Now pretend I’m the girl” he said “tell me how you feel about me”. I agreed and stepped up to him. “Good afternoon Shade” I said. “Cut!” he screamed “which one is good afternoon? And why are you boning your face like you are drinking iya kamoru’s agbo? What you should say is something like ‘hello pretty’ and smile, my friend, smile. See Stevo, the words have to flow. Just let it flow…in short, I know what to do!”

He ran out of the class…
Minutes later, he returned with the adage that if Mohammed wouldn’t go to the mountain, the mountain would come to Mohammed. Instantly, I understood what he meant. He had gone to tell the babe that I wanted to see her after school.

Time wore on painfully…
My mind was a mash of emotions.
What would I say, how would I begin.
I painted different scenarios in my head as to how to go about it, and all of them seemed to end in me turning Jet Li and speaking Chinese again.

Gbagaun! Gbagaun!

The sound I did not want to hear came.
I tried to get up but something was holding my butt to the seats. Joel forcefully dragged me up. As I was walking out of the class, I kept repeating to myself “Let it flow, Just Let it flow.”
Then, I saw her waiting for me alone in front of her class. I fainted within, even though I was conscious in reality. Joel kept pushing me on. Encouraging me to let it flow. That this is nothing. Each step that took me closer to her was arduous.
Joel quickly walked in front of me, went to her said something that made her laugh, while he waved goodbye. Just less than 10 seconds with her and she was laughing. How come every one these days is ‘basketmouth’, except me?
5 steps and I would be face to face with her. All that was in my head was the constant reminder to let it flow.






“Hello cutie” I heard myself say, “how are you doing today?”
“Very fine, Stephen” she replied with a very wonderful smile.
“And you?” she asked.
“Awesome and even more, now that I have seen you.”

Hian??? Na me be dis?
So far so good oh, no chinese! ( e fun oluwa l’ogo!!!!)
Can I walk you home? I asked.
“Yeah no problem, I’d love that”

Una hear am?, she says she’ll love that o….. omo e be like the something don sha dey flow o

10minutes into the walking home, I had not said a word. We were just walking side by side like a quarreling old couple. The amount of calculation going on in my head at that point eh! No super computer in the world could carry out that much calculation in a minute. When we got to the Junction from which she would walk to her house, she said, “Joel said you wanted to tell me something and you haven’t said anything really”

From nowhere, I heard myself saying;
“The thing is, Shade, what I wanted to tell you is that…” I stepped closer to her,

Looked her eyeball to eyeball,

I held her gaze for all of about 10seconds.
And said……

Chai ! I said…

azzin if you imagine what I said…

“Just wanted to tell you that if you had any problem in chemistry, I’m always here to help”
Ababio quickly appeared on my shoulder and also said “Charlie! Dex ten you are talk be ah nonsense”

Honestly, in my head I thought I said I liked her and she was beautiful and all the other things I was supposed to say. How the words “problem” and “chemistry” escaped my lips beats me till today.

The disappointment was just too obvious. I heard her say a half-hearted “Okay” and “I’ll see you tomorrow” as she walked on without even looking back like they do in all those romance movies. (Play sorrowful soundtrack here)

I cursed my Village people as I walked home, and all night before I fell asleep. The morning sun rays coming into my room only helped to remind me of how much of a chemistry teacher wanna-be I was the previous day. But my God had not forgotten me.
Pastors Voice: Somebody say amen!, Halleluyah Somebody. Charlie! The lad is Ged. Charlie me ah be tell u say, dis is ah day dat de led has med

I was recounting my ordeal the previous day, to my head coach Joel. He was already rambling on and on about how this was easy, and I was a dulling guy. “Even if you no get anything to talk, just dey ask am questions. She go do the talking, errr dis boy where you come from?”
He was rambling on, when something caught his attention and he stopped talking. Turning around to see what had taken his interest, I saw Shade and I fainted again.

“Hi Joel”, “Hello preeeeety” he replied. I Immediately crammed the way he said it, the cadence of his voice and the babe-magnetic pace at which those two words came out of his mouth. Genius, absolutely genius, I tell you.
“Hi stephen, can I please see you for some minutes”

Like Black Magic, Joel disappeared and I was left alone with the only advise I could remember that morning.
“just dey ask am questions”

“So what’s up” I heard myself say with hot piss building up in my bladder. (abeg u guys should free me joor. “Whats up” no be question?)
“I wanted you to explain something in chemistry for me, that I don’t understand”

For real??????

I knew what this meant. This girl liked me but I just had to be the one to make the move. She had done the best she could as a girl to form, “explain chemistry for me”.

For the next 50 minutes, I was as fluent as President Obama during his campaign, explaining all sorts of things to her. Lord knows what I really wanted to explain was body chemistry. *wink*

Make her understand that I might be looking calm on the outside but inside me I have ya werey

For the next 7 days, I kept teaching her chemistry and walking her home in silence, while she did most of the talking. Things were just different with her. Even when she offered me iya biliki’s babadudu it tasted sweeter to me. I always sent her text messages at night, from those 200 Love sms books. But talk wetin dey der for real life. No way.

My Coach, Joel kept pushing me to tell her my mind. “See, make I tell you. As far say you never tell her anything, that girl na your guy just like me. Na your person, your nigga. Your friend. And if another guy come chook head now, she don go be that and u no go fit vex.”

Whenever I finished talking to Joel
I charged ‘argh!!!!!!!!!!!’ like the incredible hulk. But whenever she came around, I became ‘meow’ like a frightened kitten.

3 days to the end of the term, and I had still not told her my mind. Joel even gave me a note to practice what I was going to tell her.

It read :

“Shade I really don’t know how to say this (pause for 4 seconds), but I can’t help it anymore. (while saying this, squint your eyes and shake your head to the left and right). The way you make me feel is like nothing I have ever felt before. (just keep looking at her for 10 seconds). When I’m around you I feel (repeat twice) really(pause) really (pause) special. Nothing else just matters to me in school, other than hearing your voice (look at her lips) and seeing your beautiful face (look around her face). You make me happy and I…… I just want a chance (break and take a deep breath)… a chance to make you happy too. I care aboutchu….i needchu and I wantchu to be my girl. I want to be there for you at anytime. Please just give me a chance (hold her hand and look into her eyes). You can say no, but a yes would be giving your heart a chance to overwhelming happiness, Shade this might be too early, but I love you. Please dont say No”

*Years Later, I found out that the above note was from a movie that starred Emeka Ike and Genevieve and the nigga just copied and gave to me.*

For the next two days, I practiced without restraint. I planned to tell her the words on the final day of school, just incase she dull me omo I would have about two months to recover before I saw her again.
Joel my Coach was very helpful to remind me of where to pause and where to squint my eyes and where to hold her hand.

Of particular concern to me was the part where I said nothing else matters in school except her. Whenever I got to that line, either ababio appeared and asked “charlie! Even me dant matter?”
Or I imagined my father hearing me say that the only thing that mattered to me was a babe. (na die get me be that)

The Deal Day arrived.


I was a nervous wreck that day.
I held my love note very well and glanced at it periodically as the time approached. Teachers went into each class and distributed results. I couldn’t care less what I made, I had a greater calling to answer.


As I opened my desk to look once more at my note, before proceeding to action, I couldn’t find it. I panicked. This couldn’t be happening. I know I had practiced over and over but the words just disappeared from my head.

Oh no!

Joel came to inform me that my Bellé was waiting to be dazzled by my sweet words. I wanted to retreat but I had told her yesterday that I would tell her that thing I always wanted to tell her today.

I walked out…not knowing what to say as I approached her at our designated meeting point. Each step and my brain got even more empty. I was face to face with her at this point. “Hi Shade” I said. At least I no forget that one.
“Hey Stephen” she replied rather dully,
“Before you say anything stephen, I have something to tell you”“Shhhh” I said while placing my hand on her lips (I learnt it from one movie I saw the previous night o) “I have been postponing this for too long, and its time I let it out”
and then the words came…..
“Shade,I don’t know how else to say this, but I really like you. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now but for some reasons the words have refused to come. I care alot aboutchu. Spending time with you just makes me the happiest boy on earth. I wish I had done this earlier and I hope it is not too late now. You have a wonderful heart and i want to be a part of your life not just as a friend. Please Shade, be my girlfriend and I will make you a very happy girl”

**dances skelewu**
Omo see flow!!!
I Believed myself.

I looked at her face.
She had waited so long to hear me say those words, obviously.
The unexpected suddenly happened. A tear drop ran down her face.

Either this meant… Omo I bad pass Tony Montana or the rubbish I had said was so bad that it pushed her to tears.

Then she said the words no guy in this world wants to hear….”I’m sorry Stephen, I can’t” (in my mind, I held my chest and shouted JESUS!)
“Why?” I asked almost in tears (Please Lord don’t let her say “its not you its me” I prayed)
“That’s what I wanted to tell you before you started. I really really like you and I have been waiting for the day you would eventually ask me out. But the thing is that, my dad got a job in Abuja and he is relocating the entire family there. I won’t see you again after today. We leave tomorrow.” and she broke into real tears.

Nna! I wanted to cry too but I had to console her, kinda.
See what being a Lastma Official had caused me. Once more I walked her home in silence. When we got to her junction, I gave her a big teddy bear hug and assured her that we will keep communicating somehow. And even if things did not work out for the dating thing, we could still be friends (pathetic! I must say).

I watched her walk the entire length of her street, get to her gate, look at me one last time and go in. Something told me I would never see her again and as if to reinforce that thought, Ababio appeared on my shoulder to remind me “Charlie! She be really gone”

I got home that day, and I wailed.
I learnt from this, that time waits for no one and the best time to plant was ten years ago, and the next best time to plant, is now.

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Your Favourite,
Uncle Stephen