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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