Monday, February 13, 2012


Just concluded two episodes of a drama series - The Forensics, so guzzling down few bottles of my favorite beer to smother the heat sifting from my smoldering mind seemed a perfect idea (not that I need any reason to drink, but this seemed justified) this calm evening, so I gladly obliged.
But it aint a celebration if you doing it all alone, so I decided to ring up an old buddy, light skinned Kenneth, great guy, early thirties, humble and shit. It’s been a while since we saw, so getting together is going to be fun.
Reminiscing about our terrific past will last 30mins max…of which we should be draining the dregs of the second bottle by then. The beginning of the third bottle opens up the very much awaited delicious discussion of our escapades with different girls, which we are allowed to exaggerate as much as we like, that’s the delicious part.
In this highlighted fashion the evening proceeded, by the fourth bottle I already excused myself twice to obey the first side effect of Lager consumption. A notification by my ever faithful bladder signifies I might be up for a third trip to the gutter across the road in the next…uh, 10mins?, as the girl-talk gradually got stale and boring (this happens when someone over-exaggerates, can‘t say who, but I’m sure one of us did).
Then the serious tipsy talk commenced as we opened the fifth bottle, eyes glazing in their sockets. Now the beer was going terribly slow, I tried a large gulp but ended up taking a sip, he wasn’t doing too good himself. We grazed over our past experiences with life and her ordeals, encouraging and advising each other the best way our drunk blunt minds can.
Suddenly, we found ourselves, side by side, battling with our zippers across the road. After a brief struggle, the juice splatters in the gutter, then l started giggling hard…he joined in. We were wondering how and when we got here, it was so hilarious that I spilled some on my jeans.
‘Ze last two dwops alwez end up in we boxaz anywez, no madda ‘ow mush you shake ze one-eyed shnake… ’ I slurred with a grin.
A slight trace of confusion passed briefly across his face but he just kept on giggling.
He didn’t understand, I frowned. I wanted to repeat it but, what did I say again?.
In a moment, we were back in our chairs, nursing the beer that refused to go down. I got a sweet mouth, but its pure sugar when aided with almost five bottles and when I got a drunk ear listening, so I did most of the talking. We were both enjoying our roles, but it got so sweet that I ended up giving him an itchy pile (he was on the receiving end).
‘…zon’t walk wif fvenzs you can nevva gain fwom…zose who call you to beer parlorrrs-’His cup halts inches from his lips as the weight of my slurred words slides home.
This awkward moment continues as my fuzzy brain struggles to register the shit that just shot out of my pie hole.
His cup returns to the table, then he nods.
‘Okeyy…buh if you zon’t wan be fvenzs wif me again, shay show, and shtop beating around ze bukket!’’He gets to his feet and storms off, knocking over his half-filled cup.
Which show do they beat buckets?!
He obviously doesn’t like the show, I thought as I raise my cup in salute to his receding frame.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

‘TAUREAU SUBTLE ‘-The Epitome of a Mirage


The text message came at around six in the evening, confirming my worst fears. It’s been a while coming(wouldn‘t want to admit I had been in denial), with this previous statement, you should get what I mean. I had hoped I could turn the disaster vehicle around but it took me straight to the Heartbreak Hotel and lodged me in its coolest suite, looking over a sad ocean. Swarmed in my pathetic state, though dry-eyed, my heart weeps both at the loss of a very short fantasy(I just realized) which I felt was the girl of my dreams(ha! yea, in my dreams).
In view of my bleary wet heart, the pages of Charles Ayo Dada's 'Ghosts of Zina' drifted in...guiding me on a painful poetic path which Zina, I presume, put Charles through(I hope I deserve to call him that). As I tread alongside his pen, the vividness of his pain alights like a crow through his words and I relate to his fate to mine that was just dished out on my plate.
He is in the same room I’m in now, I can feel him scribbling furiously the brilliant composition of poems that made up the above named book. Brown shutters drawn in tight, shutting all the bright sunlight out, foul musky smell drifting from what looked like maggot ridden dried blood mixed with urine and tears somewhere on the worn moldy rug that graced the floor of the suite.
I lay on the dirty stale bed sheet, inhaling deeply on the stench of sadness that refreshed the room. Joining the creak of my weight on the bed, a bitter laugh escapes my lungs as I remember as it all started, crystal as the text message that ended it.

…and it ended when we met.

The classroom is situated on the left side of the primary school just at the Ogba junction, up the Oba-Akran avenue, Ikeja. It was packed with a couple of policemen, several NYSC members and two middle-aged women(RACOs, they are called…I’m kinda short on the meaning now) who were trying their best to attend to impatient, excited 'just out of school' youths, most of who are kitted up in under- and over-sized NYSC regalia. I ponder on why they never get our sizes right for a while before remembering stuffs like this is normal in Nigeria, everybody complains but no one listens. A terrible trait that favored me ’cos I wore mine only once…maybe twice just for pictures to show folks and any other person who‘s interested.
I waltz into the room with my usual demeanor of nonchalance, keeping to myself as i find one of INEC’s metal suitcase to sit my tired ass on(we aren‘t meant to, but I deliberately wrote rebellion on it with my bony butt!). I’ll be through with this Youth Corp bullshit in a month, why am I even here with these fucking clowns?
‘The pay is fair…’ the nagging voice of my Mom rang in my ears from a few days back. ‘Moreover, you need every naira you can lay your long idle fingers on…‘, I agreed with her as I scanned the small crowd in the room.
More than few of the guys come over and we shake hands as I nodded and smiled through the wave of questions that accompanied the pleasantries....
'Guy, how far? from OSU right?'
‘Ha, wey your Afro?…’
‘Badt guy!…you sef dey here…’ and etcetera.
Yeah, my good ol’ demons follow me around.
Within the next hour, the small crowd totters off, bit by bit, Corp after Corp, all in doubles as we are required to. Due to the two chilled bottles of beer I took earlier(a little morning booze is a habit), combined with the fact I never wanted to be here, I was having a bad day until…
'You got an ARO II (Assistant Registration Officer II)?' Linda asked me. The only thing that made me reply her was that she has a beautiful smile, though one of her incisors is chipped in half. She's a pretty little thing, nice shape too, not too pronounced though.
'No, I'm one' I said, smiling back at her confused face, which told me she might not be as bright as her mirth. 'I mean I need an ARO I, u wanna be my ARO I?' She concurs my explanation with another flash of the broken tooth and the shake of her pretty head.
ARO I's job is a bit more tedious than ARO IIs‘, so lazy people like me and Linda wanted to be someone's ARO II.
'So why don‘t you have a seat?'
I decided to kill the boredom that was creeping up on my slightly tipsy mind by indulging in a little flirting with Linda, which she obliged willingly...she was bored too, I see.
After five minutes of me talking and Linda laughing, I realized she is available to any guy who has a sweet tongue and can at the same time talk dirty. I was already planning how to take her out before the end of the first day of our exercise, in my mind she already said yes, no doubt. Then an handsome slim dark guy comes along in search for an ARO II, Michael is from OSU too. We shook hands and then I let him stab my back by allowing him to drag sweet Linda off with him in the name of making her his ARO II, later in the coming weeks I helped solidify her interest in him.
Then I was alone again, but not for long.
For my seat I can see her back view, she was having a discussion with the slim one out of the two RACO women coordinating the locations which we were posted. That gown on her pointed out why I should give her Creator the glory on her behalf, she was a sight at that moment, for my sore bored eyes(she never ceases to be). Her very fair skin contrasted vividly with the black gown as I focused greatly on the not so gentle curve of her very fleshy behind. The beginning of an erection throbbed gently on my jeans, after a quick furtive glance around me, I crossed my legs.
I gotta get her, I thought as she turned and walked towards an empty seat. She is a beautiful piece, moderate soft breasts(I found out that later), sexy recommended glasses, no make-up and she seem reserved(I confirmed this later too) and that butt…Gawd!…that butt! With the maximum self control I could summon at that moment, blood receded slowly from restless Johnny, I got up and walked up to her.
She glanced at me through her frames, which looked perfect on her by the way, and mumbled a reply. I pride myself for being a conversation starter, so getting her attention wasn’t a biggie. She’s in search for an ARO II.
‘Cool. I’d do it for free.’
The comment drew a smile out of her. Progress, I thought. Her reply informed me that I was a wee bit late, ‘cos the slim RACO has already sent for an ARO II for her, while I was busy chatting dear sweet-faced Linda up. Damn!
Immediately assuming the role of a ruggedly smooth operator, my countenance expresses just a glimpse of my exaggerated disappointment and in what I hope didn’t sound too desperate, I asked for her number which she declined as soon as the request jumped outta my mouth.
‘I don’t have a stable phone….I change my number a lot.’
Okay, that was lame, maybe she wasn‘t all that. I threw her an exasperated stare and walked off. Nonsense!…I displayed, all for effect.
Her companion turned out to be another fair attractive girl, Susie. They both left a couple of minutes later. I did too, while wondering our my day‘s gonna turn out…with another OSU ‘brother’, who as others before him knew the once weird Afro guy….he’s Bakare, he’s cool.

…and it continued where we met.

Two, three or four days passed and we were all getting used to rigors of attending to the different people of Agege Local Govt. Getting down Names, Addresses, D.O.Bs and digital thumb prints was becoming fun for everyone, including me; though for me, it was the thrill of doing nothing and getting paid.
Bakare was doing all the work, because I’m always coming late and my attitude towards the whole process wasn’t working for him. I had my sweet side too…I handle the business of drinks, girls and extreme jokes so that in the next few days, Bakare never cared I show up late or not as long as I took care of ‘business ‘…and business I did take care of. In a short while we understood each other like a glove to a hand.
At the end of each day, we are required to return INEC’s property, so we all get to see each other at least twice a day, all the almost forty of us. This very evening, everyone was in a good mood. First names rang out of our mouths as if we’ve known each other for years, discussing how the day went. Laughter, gisting and holding hands entered our midst, we were one in a way, though we were already forming cliques. Writing this now, I realize how much I missed it and also how quickly time passes.
There she was again, looking all pretty this time in an also not too tight lemon-green gown which fits around the coke bottle shape which all men crave perfectly and ends its journey just above the flawless cream knees. She was in a good mood too, I can see she has bonded naturally with Susie, they were both sharing a joke with two guys not so far away from where I stood with Bakare as we share a bottle of Alomo. She has a clique now.
One of the two guys couldn’t keep his filthy hands off her, touching her shoulders and hands too often, cheap creepy bastard!, I thought as I started towards her.
Linda and Michael were now tight as peas in a pod, I noticed as I passed them, she said hi and he nodded. Intoxicated with the effect of the bitters, which was busy boosting my confidence as well as the smell of my breath, I managed a smile at the two and I continued on my way to express my grudge.
‘I remember you’
The reply to my interruption of their little group discussion helped my confidence a great deal more than the alcohol I’ve been consuming a while ago. Susie was indifferent as she turned to the other guy continuing the joke, the ‘creepy bastard’ wasn’t too happy about my appearance. In fact, he scowled to my satisfaction (Ah! Bite me!).
‘Yeah…you refused to give me your number ‘cos of a lame excuse’
Her confused look dissolved into a smile as I hit the nail on the head of my few days old grudge. She had been kidding and she mentioned how surprised she was when I walked off(ahhh….it worked, I brightened). Then very bluntly, I complimented her dress, then her number sorta typed itself in my contacts…Peaches, I saved it. She never mentioned my foul breath, I realized after saying we‘d talk more later.
As it came to be, Creepy and I weren’t the only one interested in Peaches, more than half of the guys were involved(and a D.P.O. too, I call him Scarhead, he’s always hanging around, we aren’t buddies. Y’all get to meet him later.), and the other half, her new friend, her royal hotness - sharp mouth Susie.
In an ironic way, Creepy somehow unknowingly assisted me in securing a place in the mind of my newly found ‘darling’. He and his somehow dumb friend had already promised the two girls an outing that included, beer, Ofada rice and pepper soup…but they backed out at the last minute, which is why I tagged them dumb. A disappointed Susie left, so I maximized a brilliant idea by two fools and invited Peaches to a very cool spot (that‘s what I told her), it is actually a low-key strip joint called ‘KNIGHTS‘(they should pay me for publicity) due to cops and shit, they shut down for a while. It’s just a stone throw, west of our primary school.
‘It‘s cozy.’ Her eyes ate up the dimly lit room. ’I have to be home by 7pm though.’
‘You got curfew?’
I was surprised at first, but when I learnt later as the evening progressed, over a bottle of Star Lager and a full grilled chicken courtesy of the amiable Bakare(told you he is cool), who was quietly slurping on a bottle of small stout, that she’s from a strong deeper life family, a covenant university graduate and the point that finally bit me in the ass- she’s a daddy’s pet…nah, more like daddy‘s little obsession, my surprise vanished with the exact same speed it came.
The first night was fun, she had it too, after rushing a bottle of Gordon Sparks. She went home minutes after seven, happy and tipsy, a little stink of my rebellion trailing faintly in her wake as her bike zoomed off, not before I had a glimpse of those ‘yallow’ thighs. To seal the day off, I sent her a poem an hour later, calling her a butterfly, a soft presence. Bet I saw the smile that spread out on her lips when the poem tickled her ovaries, as she stares her phone on her bed later that night. That was the text message that put the nail on the lid. The nicest thing someone ever wrote her, she texted back. My turn as my nuts tingle and shrink with pleasure. Thanks, Creepy!

…and then, there was drama.

The evenings that followed were all memorable for me, we got to know the basics about each other over chicken and beer, of course and deeper into the hypnotizing abyss of love I sank. She got to know every foul thing I did and how sour I can be, she never for once judged me, not yet though. I’m home at last, I thought.
Susie among others, wasn’t a fan of the recent developments, lesser time with her friend but Peaches couldn’t care less. Susie doesn’t have what you’d call a good character, she offered when I asked how her friend felt.
I had her all to myself.
It was new, it was fresh and it was real, well, that was how it felt for me then, I can debate it now. Flaunting our fast maturing affection in front of everyone made our colleagues, especially male ones, grow some balls and chase after the good females, they were fast dwindling out.
Gentle Bakare surprised all of us by winning the heart of the loveliest girl among us, Mercy. She was friends with everyone, not because she aint bad looking and jovial, my guess is because she has this massive ass you just wanna keep looking at. Though they had private issues and sharing them with y’all means it aint private no more, right? But she’s still a catch, Bakare…you lucky devil.
We succeeded in attracting more customers for KNIGHTS strip club as it became where all of us spent our evenings as well as the shitty payment plan of the Lagos State government. The hand and the glove blew money fast during this weeks, we were on a roll with our ladies in tow, no care, no worries. Euphoria engulfed us when the exercise was postponed for another week, full gratitude to fellow Lagosians who refused to show up on time for the registration, it seemed like a year more to me in particular.
The love was drowning me, I couldn’t do a day without her…it’s still a wonder how I faired them long weekends. Calls, texts messages and more calls refuse to suffice the searing need to have her in my sight. It worsened when she told me she had to go for an interview one dark Wednesday, raw dread settled on my mind.
It isn’t a day I’d like to relive, not because Peaches wasn’t around but because that day I got arrested.
‘Wey the boy wey beat woman?’
Within a couple of minutes, I sit tightly sandwiched in between two policemen, their AK-47s pointing menacingly out the windows of the white ragged Toyota Hilux truck which busts into the Ogba-Agege roundabout at full throttle, leaving civilians in their vehicles hissing and cursing as they slammed on their brakes. The girl I allegedly beat up occupies the front seat crying her eyes out and Bakare, who’s the potential witness sits calmly at the open back with two more policemen. Scarhead(remember him? He turned out to be good friends with the girl‘s husband) stayed back at the crime scene, to gather evidence I suppose. I remember thinking a very angry someone must have ran a hot iron through his head, ah!
‘Ah!…Eh!…I have suffered o!…’ she wailed loudly.
The two slices of bread to my ham sandwich threw me disgusted, hateful glances. Their stares became more hateful when they saw I was wearing a silly smirk, it widens with each new wail the girl coughs out. What a drama queen!
Almost an hour ago, my colleague and I came in a bit earlier than usual to drop the equipments and fill the reports like we do every evening. We had plans of getting drunk today and stick some naira notes up some lucky stripper‘s panties, Boys Night, we tagged it. We tagged it wrong, that‘s just something about plans.
Okay, she is a bitch…a freaking married hot-tempered beee-aaach!(sorry folks, that‘s just what she was), I couldn‘t believe when I heard she just gave birth. As early as we thought we arrived, few people were already there, my accuser included.
An argument about chairs erupted between Bakare and the girl, which I never had intention of joining if she hadn’t grabbed Bakare roughly by his lapels and to top it, she made some extreme remarks about my Mom when I tried to step in between them, you don’t wanna do that to anybody, except maybe Jesus Christ. Them RACOs and the few cops present tried to interfere but she ain’t letting go, she‘s a nut case.
Then she did it. She fucking grabbed me and shook me hard…uh-uh, you not gonna get away with that, not in this life.
‘Then he hit me…’ sobs,’…he grabbed me by the hair and punched me in the face…then he kicked me in the stomach….my head ooo!’
Four people are present in this small room, the D.C.O.’s office. The D.P.O aka Scarhead ordered us to explain the incident to the D.C.O., who fortunately is a woman, immediately we reached the police station at Isokoko, Agege. She saw right through her crocodile tears(those tears went on for over two hours…what! I only threw her into those metal cases twice!) and lies after hearing the other sides of the story which came from me and ice-cool Bakare.
‘So what do you want?…are you injured?’
She kept sobbing, even after the policewoman included if she wanted to do a check-up at a nearby hospital. Threats like, ‘I’ll show you the kind of person I am!…you’ll lose your certificate!’ and so on, during our little tussle was becoming a bluff, and she knew it. Still wearing my smirk, it ripened into a more silly grin as I offered to hug her(it seemed more like a mock and we all knew it). After the ‘hug’ and phrases of warnings to me, we proceed to leave the police premises. Then we met Scarhead at the mouth of the entrance, Fuck!
Scarhead recognized me immediately, ‘I wonder what Peaches saw in this…this guy‘, or something like that, was what went through his mind and what pooped up his facial expression. I read shit well, if you’re wondering how I knew. Now we’re back inside the station, his office. He brought the slim RACO with him.
Then the ass blew up everything. He started saying something about, TV, newspapers, Commissioner of Police and shit. How he can decide to report our rift to higher powers, that we were disturbing the peace and progress of the Voters Registration exercise. We might end up in jail.
‘We? There‘s no we…‘why was he staring at me with those scary cross-eyes shifting restlessly under his glasses, ’you mean me, you asshole’ I thought.
Then the warnings came again, both from him and the programmed RACO. Then we left.
After purchasing a fresh pair of black fake BYC round necks(my white top looked like shit, thanks to the bitch), we went back to the school with the bounce of ex-convicts. Our Boy’s Night was ruined. After a few beers, I called Peaches for an update, but Scarhead already did, bragging about how he saved the day by arresting a thug who beat up a girl. Agbaya! competing with a younger fella. It wasn’t a surprise someone wanted to scalp the man, much thanks, whoever you are.

…and we met farewell.

Everyone is a bit moody today, It’s the last day. Goodbyes aint cool, they become start-overs when you say them, and it’s heartless when you don’t. In a short while, we’ve shared so much, time flies when you’re having fun, more fun when you‘re getting paid for it, uh? Peaches sits silently on my lap, browsing through pictures in a digital camera which Emmanuel(one of my favorite buddies) had been taking through the past three weeks. Michael is taking his own with a Blackberry Storm(he took one of me and Peaches that I really love).
The light at the end of this sad gloomy tunnel is that we’re getting paid today…the big check. Couple of guys were trying to lighten up the mood, throwing jokes in the air…no one was really catching them. I hugged Peaches from the back, million things running through my mind.
‘Are you ok?’
Obviously, I’m not, but I nodded. It’s gonna be a long dark night, and I‘m not talking about that time of the day. Corp after Corp, we got paid and we headed to the Mr. Biggs, right beside our favorite joint(beer, strippers and chicken don‘t fit this mood, sorry KNIGHTS). Michael’s photo shoot continued in there, Linda wasn’t present…she had to rush off to somewhere, I learnt later.
Bakare and Mercy left the fast food joint after he told me they had private plans that included a hotel. It occurred to me I had none. Peaches read my glum face and suggested we take a walk, which we did, a long one. In fact, we walked to her house, talking my heart out(I had so much to say). I realized she did too, when we proceeded towards her home.
‘You drink too much…and I don’t like the smoking too’
She began, saying stuffs I never thought she’d remember, taking me back through several instances where my school demons re-surfaced, some heavy drinking and crazy dancing.
‘So what’s going to happen to us?’
A question she answered with a long tight hug and a kiss right on the express of Wempco Road(I even cupped her fleshy rump…delicious like I know it would be)…ah, the junction near LASCOFIS- the Ofada joint Creepy and his pal wanted to take her a while back.
‘Ahn-ah!…for road?!’ A bike man hollered as he zoomed past.
‘Mind your business, nigga!’ the perfect moment silently screamed.
It was almost fifteen minutes after eight, I reluctantly let her go. Getting into trouble with her folks was nothing compared to not seeing me regularly anymore, I guess.
‘Call me when you get home, will you?…and no bikes, uh?’
I crossed my heart and skipped off like a kid brandishing a large Ice-cream. Finally I had myself a girl!, a fine good girl for that matter, they don’t come this good.

…and it ended when it began.

After the longest week of my life, I started to miss her less as the reality of time took its slow terrible cause, but the calls increased. I told her about everything I was  involved in, she tried returning the gesture but her life is somewhat more boring; the sleep-eat routine(I didn‘t mind, but she did). She talked less about herself and asked more about mine, I noticed but all I wanted was us to stay together, so I didn‘t care. If I did, I didn‘t show.
‘You gon’ kill me when you hear this…’
It turned out she lost my 120GB third edition classic Ipod which I gave her in my part to crumble the boredom villa which she is currently residing. She got it right, I indeed wanted to strangle her after I confirmed she was serious about that impossible joke. I didn’t show my murderous intent visibly, outwardly I was smiling like an idiot, at least I got the girl, the thought doused my burning rage.
We were in her parent’s house, snacks and juice spread on a stool in my front as she expected my outburst that refused to come.
‘You’ll find it’…I never believed she will ‘cos part of me thinks maybe her brother pilfered it and got her to lie to a delusional fool which I had no idea I was then, but now, it was a small price to pay for such a perfect good girl(perfect?).
She came to my house a couple of times, since I don’t cook, brought lunch once alongside a large polythene bag that contained a black suit and a portfolio.
‘I had to tell my dad I had an interview’
Now this revelation made me pause a sec on the chicken wing I was gnawing on, she actually did that? For me? I found a soul mate, no one can tell me nothing. I pushed the food aside and we made up in the booth of my cousin‘s homemade studio.
She was finding it harder to get out of their house to come to mine, so I had to go to hers, risking the fury of what her dad might do if he met me. I almost got caught once by her mom, who came home from her place of work unexpectedly, I had to duck into a toilet(childish uh?…I know but I’ll call it a thrill since we were still together).
Then the first text message came, a day after democracy day. I was at Elegushi beach, with my cousin and brother, enjoying a bottle of McDowells Whisky, loud music and the terrific view of pretty endowed girls in colorful skimpy outfits with the waves of the ocean in the background.
‘We couldn’t continue whatever we were doing, I had to find someone good for me’ was the short form of the very long wicked message. Whatever we were doing!? Okay, the first thing that came to my mind was my Ipod, you can go but get me back my toy! Cold uh? She started it and moreover, I love that gadget so I felt cheated, raped, fooled, etc.
After leaving a million missed calls on her cell…
‘You can’t break up with me with a text message after loosing my Ipod!’ I roared back at her via a very loud text message which she didn‘t reply.
I didn’t take it easy, I needed a reason and I‘m going to get it, there should be one or two. I kept calling her and she kept ignoring me and my frustration grew fatter. Her indifference and lack of respect for my feelings prompted me to take some stupid steps like calling her dad, not that it made any difference ‘cos the man warned me never to call his number no more. On second thought, maybe it did, I heard from her later on…her dad went off on her, I guess.
‘Relax, we’ll be fine’
Hearing her voice again after such a long while put a great deal of ease on my troubled mind. We’ll work it out, I had over-reacted, I apologized.
‘I want to see you.’
Not now, and I said I’ll wait.
While waiting, I recovered from my shock and I had time to re-evaluate to situation. The sweet Nollywood story of a pretty deeper life girl and a rugged nonchalant writer/aspiring film maker is just that- a movie, make-believe, if you will. The realization made everything easier, she ain’t coming back and I was gonna wait forever without knowing what changed her mind or rather what I did wrong, if there is.
She was never mine, I had to conclude. It was the only reason that made sense to my bleeding heart.


‘We can’t be together, I tried making it work during those days but let’s not deceive ourselves, we aren’t compatible…I don’t wanna say this, but since you want to hear it - I’m in love with another person. You will eventually find someone who will love you for who you are…’
That was the text message that lodged me in one of the suites of the Heartbreak Hotel which I’m in now. It has been months since I heard from her, so I thought she has had some time to herself so I tried for the last time to win back the girl that kissed me on one of the public streets of Lagos, well, the result of my effort lies as the upper paragraph.
‘You can’t stay another night here, you can’t afford it.’
The voice of Charles Ayo Dada nudges my weary mind awake from its tale, I totally agree with him, I’m not that rich emotionally anymore, my spending spree has come to a dry end. I feel so light and free as I got up from the bed and it showed on my face. I bent to smoothen the dirty brown sheets…
‘Uh-uh, don’t disappoint the next occupant, the rooms stay the same.’ Charles cautioned.
The sun has reduced to a dull red ball in the horizon, dark clouds gathering as if to threaten its already fading existence. Somewhere not too far I hear the steady cool sigh of a river(maybe it‘s all in my head, maybe not), I inhale as the hot choky air turned into a fresh chilly breeze, thunder rumbled off a deep growl at a distance.
‘It is going to rain…’
A reply didn’t come, I realized I was expecting one as I gaze into emptiness. Charles had left, I see. Was he ever here? I wondered as I began my journey home, wherever that is.
It shimmered seductively at a not too far distance, beckoning, calling…a puddle of clear crystal water a mile away on the highway, but as I neared it for a sip for my parched throat, it vanished. And that, my friends, is what they call a mirage…and this is its story.


Wednesday, August 17, 2011


Everything in life is a thing line,
It's like the pop of a bottle of red wine,
Ain't a Frank Edoho show where u get three lifelines,
Ain't a bar where u get ur martini with a slice of lime.

A thin line between freedom and getting caged,
A thin line between being a virgin and getting laid,
Being broke and getting paid,
Winning a hand with the ace of spades.

Life's a black and white picture,
whether urs is a gloomy or a bright future,
it suprises u like an epileptic seizure,
every depends on God , like a surgeon performing sutures.

Some say it's fate, others say have faith,
fate is what is dished to you ona a plate,
like when Leo met Kate on the titanic,
wouldn't have mattered if one was black or hispanic,
whether the ship was small or gigantic,
being from opposite sides made it more romantic.

Same goes for Romeo and Juliet
what a combination, the duet,
what a sad end, they met,
a thin line between life and death.

A thin line between love and hate,
betrayal of being used as bait,
a blind man putting on stevie wonder's shades,
viewing the world in a different perpective,
unborn babies avoided using contraceptives,
i wonder if we're in any way sensitive.

A thin line between the first snort and addiction,
the difference between a true story and a fiction,
'Why do fools fall in love' was an instance,
spotted Amy Winehouse from a far distance,
Singing she didn't wanna go to rehab,
but the will not to, she didn't have.

A thin line between penetration and ejaculation,
after an orgasm comes a moan of satisfaction,
folks at home told me about protection,
paid the price when i didn't heed to correction,
ended up stepping into Magic Johnson's shoes,
got to hustle hard to pay ma dues,
always be faithful and speak the truth,
'remember the Lord in the days of thy youth'.

It's a thin line between heaven and hell,
where we end up only time will tell,
here I sign out wishing everybody well,
remember the slogan 'saved by the bell'.


Walls of my mind are caving in
nightmares where dreams have been
plans unwinds so fast in the head
but it slowly plays out instead
the inevitable race to success
through the swamps, forests and the wilderness
survival; the focus of the brain
what a task it is to make a name
the picture has to fit in the frame
pain is gain
pain is slow
gain should grow
gain is a slow painful growth
patience is everyone's friendly foe
oppression makes you pout
depression frees your doubt
pressure from folks
fierce heat from the stove
answers is their question
not certain enough, never mention
the door opens up to hopelessness
bubbling to the surface is restlessness
but there's never a shortcut to happiness. eji owuro...

the stillness of a lake,
the ripples of a wave,
eerie silence of a grave,
Oh! what a love He gave.
His only begotten son, Jesus Christ,
to redeem us, death was the price,
suffering on the cross, it wasn't nice,
shame to the devil, He don arise.

Love, a four-letter word,
experienced by everything in this world,
a parent's love for a child,
a groom's love for his bride,
a blind man's cane as his guide,
check out the animals of the wild,
secret lovers when they hide,
mating couples when they bind,
love is not cruel, it is kind.
Comes in different shapes and sizes,
associated with huge sacrifices,
also with great prizes.

From Naija with love,
yhemie says 'No glove, no love',
to every lady recieving a hug,
to every sex-starved thug,
say no to drugs,
stay 'snug like a bug in a rug'.
Never dismiss words of wisdom with a shrug.
Hold them tight and never let go,
cos when u'll need them u never know.
Every morning the cock crows,
every month-end the moon glows,
may luck take us to where we wanna go.
A hater's grudge,
a lover's nudge,
the strong won't budge,
till he reaches the top.
Love one another,
whatever the weather,
cos tommorow is not promised today, my brother.
Everybody's aging,
it's high time I did my bading,
the ink in my pen is fading....,
gotta go see a girl i'm dating,
go get yours, no hating.


poverty has a look....ugly frowns, is sarcastic.
it has charisma, a's contented
it's defensive...offensive and superstitous
poverty is loud
loves tha crowd
it feeds on the mind
trying to clone everyone to its kind
it's pathetic...spread from the mind to the appearance
it is religious..a re-orentation
a rebel...the devil...
a chronic disease..mind cancer
it has complex....very inferior
it looks through you....
stop it and say boo!!!!!


A baby butterfly breaking out of its cocoon and it's steadily growing bigger. A constant feed of talents coming its way enlarging its abdomen. Different splashes of colours appearing on the wings, making it appear more beautiful against the glaring sun of the World Music Industry in general. Desperately trying on many things just to find what i'd term 'our stlye', we have flown in many directions...wrong ones, right ones, all with the one aim of getting worldwide recognition and respect.
The industry had managed to stay feebly active through our own local music; the likes of Fuji, Juju, Afrobeat e.t.c. the public was hungry for change, we were bored. I must not forget to point out that the brands went far, they got the recognition and respect worldwide, the kind that our newly found 'adapted' type of music desperately crave for,snatching nominations during grand awards. They passed the test of time, they are vintage classics getting new meanings, translations and appreciation as decades rolled by.
Styles emerged like football players charging into the pitch, fresh, new and raw, fueling the wobbly legs with strength and hope. The dance and groovy style emerged first in the race with the others tolling in its wake. The acceptance of the leading style by the public was enormous, it contained more of rhythm, rhythm sells more here in Nigeria at the moment. Most of the songs are lyrically dead, rhythm falls victim to time, chips away at it until it is extinct. Production called attention ( let me mention that it's getting better and bigger), without it the industry would stand at ease. this part of music plays a huge role in shaping up styles. It teaches you to listen to the rhythm and appreciate the creativity, unfortunately here in Nigeria, it had made both the top and upcoming artists weak lyrically. The trend now is; get good production, throw in some slangs and back it up by shooting a tight video abroad and you have arrived.
A good combination of both lyrics and rhythm create classics, classics gets recognized, classics wins awards, classics make legends. We have a few new classics to our name, you will know a classic album when you hear one... take the dreadlock princess for your example.... Kudos to our International stars repping us outside the continent, though not all are lyrical enough (moi opinion, folks). They got what it takes, they could be better, but most of the top nigerian musicians make music from the head not from the heart, the head puts the quid first, while the heart puts the music first.
The commercial acceptance of the style brought the conclusion that maybe we've eventually arrived at our destination...we got a style! We don't officially have a name for it, but for now it is termed 'naija dancehall', i think.
Can these hit songs stand time? Okay, we now have former hit songs we call 'old school', but to be frank when you listen now, it's more of comedy than's so empty. We are at a junction where junks are starting to be recognized, though the song may be groovy at the moment, meaning eludes quickly.
For the love and the growth of 'naija music'...... put the music first, then the quid follows. Whatever we call our style, we shouldn't have boundaries......every part of the industry should grow, not some. We'll be huge on the World Music Map, joining the likes of the Latinos, Jamaicans and even surpassing them. Let's tell the world that 'we are here!' If we shout loudly enough, we'll be heard.