Thursday, 31 December 2009

Peace and Love

I guess i've really done it this time - MIA for almost 2 months, that's gotta be record. But its the last freaking day of the year, so even such an extended AWOL like mine has got to have an end.

So i'm back...

But first, apologies:
I know it was really effed-up the way i just went missing - posting that Embarassing Moments story, and then puff! I'm sorry Blogsville, its just that my life took some crazy turns.

- my salary was delayed for 4months
- my rig allowance was delayed for 3months (since September!), so i was basically FLAT-ASS BROKE from October to mid-December (which is when it was finally paid)
- my Nokia 5200 phone (which doubles as my modem) suddenly developed problems 2weeks ago, and the PC suite no longer recognizes the phone.
- 8 days ago, Total Nigeria sent me an IV for a post-graduate scholarship test; i've been studyng like crazy ever since
- and the coup de grace, my laptop hard-drive crashed some 4 days ago. I've formatted the C-drive and re-installed my old programs and docs, so the laptop is pretty okay-dokay now.

So, here's to all of you who still checked me out even when i was as dormant as a hibernating mole: SugarK, MyneW, Fabulola, and Taatababe - THANK YOU!!
And especially to my own Ada-bekee: Nne, o teela, mana ugbua a lotala m.

Happy New Year everyone!

Monday, 16 November 2009

Embarrassing Moments

Sometime early this year (i forget when, or maybe I just don’t want to remember), my company organized some sorta "Customer Satisfaction" training program; it was a 2-day thing. Fat waste of time, i can tell you. Plus, the lady doing the training thingy for us - i think her name was Bimbo, but let's call her " the Trainer", has a nice sarcastic edge to it, :D - its my view shaa, but i think she was just there forming "whitey" for us, lol. Ok, i think (honestly thinking, this time) she sincerely meant to impart some "customer-satisfying" knowledge to us, but at that moment we were being owed 2 months’ salary, and that kinda distorted our view of the whole thing. Unpaid salaries can do that, i assure you.

Alright, i digress. Here's the jist: On Day2 of the training, the trainer asked each of us to tell his/her most embarrassing moment. It was really hilarious. Mehn, I laff sotey i come get headache for jaw. See as everybody - from Trainee Yard-hand to DGM - just dey swap stories of dem take up like say tomorrow no dey! Me sef, i talk my own join. I told of how my most embarrassing moment was in my J.S.S 1, first term of my first year in secondary school. I told of the day i came home looking like a pig.

It so happened that my secondary school - CKC, Onitsha - wears "white and white" (for those who don't know, that means white shirt upon white shorts (for juniors) or white trousers for seniors)). I was like 11 then, and i just loved to play - you name it: football, handball, chase, tag, tug-of-war, or just plain fooling around in the sand - kay9 will be there! My mum used to warn me then to watch how i play, that i was now in secondary school, that i now wear "white and white" and i can't afford to dirty it too much.... For where? Who-sai!! It all fell on deaf, playing ears. Then along comes the day that i played the Play to end all plays. I played and played and rolled all over the whole of CKC's football field. After a while i noticed that my white uniform was no longer white in color; in fact, it was totally brown. So i did the smartest thing that came to my head: Remove the shirt, turn it inside out, and put it back on - surely, the inside MUST still be white! And that's what i did. But then the playing field started to call me again, so i ran out to it and played some more - played a WHOLE LOT more. Maka chineke, my uniform hear'am that day.

And then at last, it was time to go home. My God, i looked worse than a pig! My uniform was dirty - stinking dirty! - both inside and out. Even my friends whom i'd been playing with were ashamed of me - and this is the part i never could understand - none of them looked half as dirty as i did! How manage?? Mehn, i don't know how come no teacher saw me like that, but I’m mighty glad none did – cos if they had, walahi, my otule for catch fire. The closing bell rang, and i skunked back home. I never played like that again, ever.

Oh well, that's what i told them at the training, and we all had a good laugh - laughed enough to keep High-Blood pressure away for at least another half-decade, i can tell'ya. But you know what? I bet every one of us there had "crazier" (is there such a word?) embarrassing moments than the ones we talked about. I know i do, lol! My oh my, this kay9 wey una dey see here done do some really really crazy tings o!!

(To be continued.)

Sunday, 15 November 2009

URL Change: may be, may be not...

Dear Blogsville,

I wish to announce to you that i'm may be switching URL's; i don't know why i want to do this, but its been on my mind for a long time now. I still may not carry through with it, but - but if ever you try to pay me a visit and get something like "The blog you are looking for was not found", don't fret, a'ight? Just go on to khay9yne.blogspot; you'll find me there.


Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Last Night...

Hi peeps, howz your new month going? Mine just dey crawl by nga ahu there.

Now, about my last post, almost everyone wanted to know what my replies to Z were like. Ok, i've dragged and dragged, but the honest to God truth is that i don't have them anymore... yes, i deleted them. Now, now, before you shout me down as a two-timing, cheat-ass muther-effing bastard, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT! I keep the SMS's i get from Z (every one of them, God and my nokia phone are my witnesses!), and Z keeps the ones i send to her - i don't like piling up text msgs in my Sent folder, and i suspect Z's like that, too. Ok, that's lame, "suspect"... but c'mon peeps, the thing is Z loves her freedom, and i respect that - that's why i don't go checking all the SMS in her phone and cross-referencing them with mine. Lol! But this much i can tell y'all: my texts to Z were EVERY inch as expressive as hers to me.

Here's a poem i wrote for Z some four years ago. I actually wrote this from memory - couldn't get the original, probably buried somewhere deep under my pile of graduate notes - i'm sure i missed a word or two in more'n three places, and the last verse wasn't properly saved on my biological hard-drive, i'm afraid :) Just tell me what you think.


Last night,
And the night before
I sat out, watching
A starless sky
While a shy baby-moon
Stayed away.
Wrapped up in my sweaters, and
Listening to my juke-box's
Midnight blues,
I thought of you
My baby-boo.

I thought
What wonderful, crazy lines
You and I loop.
What melody -
What symphony -
You and I do:
Me doing the bass,
You doing the treble,
While Mother Nature completes
The orchestra.

Later, going to bed
I hoped that you,
Dear Beautiful Brown Eyes,
Slept in a world
Full of smiles...

- kay9

Monday, 26 October 2009

SMS's from Z

From: Z
Time: Monday, July 27, 2009 2:23 PM
Hi,Kay. am cool but not bcos of d so sory,must'v bin vry hectic.not up 2notin jus ...damn dis strike!wud'v bin thru by sept.hey!dnt mind me.gud9t,

From: Z
Time: Saturday, August 08, 2009 5:09 PM
lif may luk touf wit daily strugls but in my hrt exists,u;not jus as a 1da;cos lik a star u fel in2 my lif.u mde me smil evn wen thns went wrng cos in ur eyes lies my sunrise.wish we cud sail away 4eva,jus u&me.we stil loop 1dafl wild lines.i now bliv dt lif is b-e-a-u-tiful.hpy bday,k9.hugs&kisses!!!ciao
(This was on the eve of my birthday.)

From: Z
Time: Monday, August 31, 2009 5:38 PM
Hi, in my room.yes,am @owerri.10x gld i hw did d query go?my rgrds 2ur frds.oh!&#2 wen he coms already missin u.luv u.tkia

From: Z
Time: Thursday, September 10, 2009 8:51 AM
Hi,u 2busy?jus thot i chck up on hwz work?any loadouts?dnt work yerslf out.mayb d 'no pay,no work' thngy'l do d trick.dnt mind me.jus tkia,ok?luv ya,baby

From: Z
Time: Wednesday, September 16, 2009 2:42 PM
nvr felt nor writn any truer wrds as dese:i luv u, made me a wish&prayd 2hv ur kids,4evr kiss ur lips&grow old bein loved by u.g9t,baby.luv u sooooooo much.

From: Z
Time: Friday, September 18, 2009 12:16 PM
Been tnkin abt wht wud mk my wkend wortwhl&al i cn imagn is bein held in ur arms&kissd al d way am tryin 2say is:i mis u lik crazy.lvly wkend,k

From: Z
Time: Thursday, October 22, 2009 4:19 AM
Baby,hw ye doin?@work,huh?bin tnkin of ye lik crzy.tot if smtng wre 2hapen 2u&it scard d crap outta me(knw i shudnt bt cnt help it).stay healthy,pleeeze. luv u.

From: Z
Time: Monday, October 26, 2009 11:20 AM
9ic day?had me 1.went 2d salon wt my sis&told her abt 'us'.tuk it rather calmly,she did.telltale!dtz me.luv u al d way 2kilimanjaro&bak.tkia

My dear blogsville, i think i've been blown. Goodbye to bachelorhood! (sob! sob!!)

Wednesday, 21 October 2009


Hi peeps. Got me a joke collection - have had it for a while now, actually - just hope it isn't stale already. Biko, if you find it funny, do me a favor and laff well-well; otherwise, well, just keep a straight face - no need for unnecessary frowning.


I boarded a taxi going somewhere one fine day like that.
In the car with me are two ladies and one old aged man in the front.
We never even go far before the man says to the driver
"Please stop your car . . .stop the car..."

We were all thinking the man had forgotten something,
so the driver stopped the car for him.
The man opens the door, comes down and releases a very loud fart: "POOOOOOOOOHH!!!!!"

Then he comes back into the car and sits down as if nothing happened.
We all stared at him, dumbstruck . . .
The old man looks at us and says,
"Would you have preferred i did it in the car??"

The ladies reply "No, sir... No, sir."
And i add . . . "Thank you, sir."


Two guys are moving about in a Pick 'n' Pay supermarket when their carts collided.
The following conversation ensued:

1st guy: i'm sorry; i was looking for my wife.

2nd guy: what a coincidence, so am i, and i'm getting a little desperate.
well, maybe i can help you. what does your wife look like?

1st guy: she is tall, with a beautiful long hair, long slender legs, firm body and a very nice backside.
and what does your own wife look like? ask the first guy.

2nd guy: Never mind. Lets look for yours


Learn Chinese in 5 Minutes
1) That's not right . . . Sum Ting Wong

2) Are you harboring a fugitive? . . . Hu Yu Hai Ding

3) See me ASAP . . . Kum Hia Nao

4) Stupid Man . . .Dum Fuk

5) Small Horse . . . Tai Ni Po Ni

6) Did you go to the beach? . . Wai Yu So Tan

7) I bumped into a coffee table . . Ai Bang Mai Fa Kin Ni

8) I think you need a face lift . . . Chin Tu Fat

9) It's very dark in here . . . Wao So Dim

10) I thought you were on a diet . . .Wai Yu Mun Ching?

11) This is a tow away zone . . . No Pah King

12) Our meeting is scheduled for next week . . . Wai Yu Kum Nao?

13) Staying out of sight . . . Lei Ying Lo

14) He's cleaning his automobile . . .Wa Shing Ka

15) Your body odor is offensive . . . Yu Stin Ki Pu

And lastly...

16) Great . . . Fa Kin Su Pah!!!

Wednesday, 7 October 2009


Enkay's last post - "Pissy-pissy" - brought back some memories for me - memories of me and #2 struggling to stop weeing in bed. I was like seven or eight then, #2 was a year younger, and there we were - morning after morning after morning - dripping, stinking and soaked to our bones with our own intermingled and undiluted pee. Jehovah onye ebere, was it a blessed sight!! Its just so funny remembering all that now.

You know, i say "weeing in bed", like it was a bed we were weeing on; foam is more like it - in fact, that's what we called it. Foam. Every morning, Aunty Chinasa (and later Aunty Nkechi) would come in to wake us up for school, and the heavenly scent would hit her.
"Huummmmh!!!" she'd go, kicking us awake and screwing her face up in disgust, "onye nyuru mamiri na foam a?! (which of you peed on the foam?!) As usual, i'd just point at #2 and he'd point back at me.

Sometimes, when it was too bad, mum would come in too and yell at us some, threatening to send us to the hospital if we didn't stop weeing by next week (for reason, i was REALLY scared of going to hospital). And sometimes, when it was really really bad - as in, BAD - like the ENTIRE house was reeking of our nightly depositions - dad would be forced to get involved, bringing his Mr. Do-Good along with him....

One time, our Aunty Ijego came to visit; she was dad's sister. Aunty Ijego'd grown up in the villa and she had this really funny traditional way of talking about things. It was she who first referred to our nightly exercise as Iko-Cigar. Me and #2 had done our thing as usual, and then woke up early to clean it up before anyone found out - him cleaning his side and me cleaning mine. Unfortunately for us, Ijego walked in before we were done.
"Huuuuunnnhhhh!!!" she shrieked, speaking our concentrated igbo dialect, "ndi ole duhapuru iko cigar na??!!" (who dumped this iko-cigar of urine here?)

Boy, we had it bad that day! I was too stunned to reply, i barely understood what she was saying, but i knew it had something to do with the powerful stench of urine in the room. Then Aunty Nkechi came in, heard the words "iko-cigar" and instantly had an attack of Laughingitis; my third brother, #3, who'd stopped weeing in bed before he even learned to walk, saw Nkechi and Ijego laughing at us, and joined in. Stupid kid didn't even know what they were laughing about o, im jus' join in dey laff! Mshheewww.
Mum heard too, but couldn't decide whether to be amused or angry at us. Iko Cigar, i thought, what the hell wassat?. It wasn't until much, much later that i found out that iko-cigar was that metallic cup used to measure stuff in the market - like rice and beans and garri. In other words, Aunty Ijego was saying that me and #2 had let out enough urine to fill one iko-cigar! ("iko" means "cup" in Igbo, btw) Poor mum, no wonder she didn't find it very funny. What i never found out, though, is why that cup is called that; it certainly isn't used to sell cigarretes.

I finally stopped weeing some two or three months after the Iko-cigar incident shaa; #2, on the other hand, continued on till he was like ten. In our house now, if you wanna say someone pees in bed, just call him or her "iko-cigar"; everyone'll know what you mean.

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Google in Igbo!! now comes in Igbo language! Whooopeeeee!!!!

Ok, look, i just saw it, alright? Its prolly been around for quite a while for all i know but i dun care. Here, go see. There's been a yoruba and hausa version for some months now (i think); i'm just seeing the Igbo version. Haha, now even granny in the village can google. Teeeheeheee, imagine that:

Granny: kay9, i makwa na Iran a "bombuola" ulo Barack Obama na Washington D.C?" (kay9, do you know that Iran has bombed Barack Obama's home in Washington?)

kay9: Haa, nne-nnukwu, i bia kwala ozo... (Ha, granny, you've started again...)

Granny: Nwatakiri a kpuchie onu! Ngwa chere ka m "googuluoro" gi ya... (Little child, whaddya know? Ok, lemme google it for you...)

Looool! Mehn, see me inventing new words - googuluoro, bombuola, mmmh kinda rhymes with Fabulola. I think i should meet up with Sugababe 2.0, see how we can integrate these new words into the Igbo main stream. Cos, you see, there are gonna be some of complications with using this Google in Igbo; for example, what's the Igbo word for "click"? How do you say "refresh the page"?

Actually, Google did a good job on the Igbo version - such a good job that i had to go back to the english version to find out what "Owa Ozi" means. Everything was written in central igbo - no "pidgin-igbo" whatsoever - all the kpom-kpom's and rikom's in their right places. Now for y'all that played rookie during Mbido Igbo lessons in secondary school, now is the time to go back and re-learn your language. As for me, I had a B2 in WAEC Igbo Language, seriously!! (lol!)

Monday, 5 October 2009


I actually wrote this three days ago, but the wireless here's been more erratic than even our own good old PHCN


Right now, I'm on an offshore oil-rig, the Noble Percy Johns, off Rivers State. Been here six days now and counting. Its terribly boring, there's no drilling going on - we are actually here for a rig move to a new platform. Luckily, the internet conn came up last night, so I've been sitting in front of my system all day, just surfing, surfing...


There's this white South African dude here, he's the rig safety officer. Mehn, the guy na real chatter-box, as in chatter-box-with-an-attitude. And most of the time, all the fella chatters about is sex. Shuo! How he fcuked one Akwa Ibom chic... how he fcuked two Vietnamese chics... how he prefers 3-somes to 2-somes... how he told his South African gf to suck some dude's ****!! Damn! Triple-crazy-damn!!!
It was when he got to the part where he told his so-called gf to do the BJ that i told him that's pretty twisted. I mean, i'm a free guy, i don't mind how another dude wants to run his life, whatever floats your boat... But this guy wasn't just twisted; he's totally bent, and i sure as hell don't hang with bent guys (except if they're gonna pay me a million dollars - hold on, make that ten million). Got me wondering what South African white women are like...


Z's playing hide-and-seek with me... on Facebook! Loooool!

Seriously, she is. I don't know why she's pretending to be somebody else - at least, she's definitely not using her name. She's using some phony name that sounds like something out of a sci-fi flick. I found out about a week ago; it was the way she writes - you know what they say about a leopard and its colours - well, NOBODY else in the whole wide world uses abbreviated words like Z does; she has a shortened version of virtually EVERY word in the English vocabulary, plus she never EVER uses a full-stop unless she totally absolutely has to. And then the clincher: her FB profile info is just too familiar to be a coincidence.

I'd asked Z if she was on FB before, but she didn't give me a definite answer. I knew from experience that she doesn't like being pressed for details so i chilled. Then about a month ago i get this friendship request; i almost didn't accept, but then i checked out the profile and saw that the person had schooled in FUTO. I thought whadda hell, you'd have to around the world three times b4 you find the fella who can scope a home-grown naija-ninja like me. So i accepted. I didn't give another thought to it until last week when it suddenly clicked: this is Z!

I know it all sounds too thin to assume so much, but you know... the way you know somebody so well you're dead sure this is them. I just know it.
I'm still keeping mum shaa, its kinda fun, see - no need to disillusion her - unless she's reading this, of course!

Wednesday, 23 September 2009

All about Oluchi...

I've been thinking about Oluchi. Maybe its cos I've thinking about marriage and all the girls i've known.

Oluchi is the only other girl besides Z that i've ever really admitted to myself that i actually love - or should i say, loved. I met Oluchi during my matric ceremony in FUTO - we were both matriculating, actually. My dad knew her mum - turned out we were from the same villa - so, we were introduced. I didn't see Oluchi again until weeks later when i ran into her at a buka with one of my course-mates, Bola; they were room-mates. Problem was I'd forgotten who she was, so Bola had to re-introduce us again, lol. We chatted for a while about this and that, exchanged room numbers (phone numbers and handsets were still in the future) with Bola playing match-maker in the background.... and that was it.

Oluchi and I weren't exactly close, but we had this... i dunno, special crazy connection - i'd start a sentence and she'd finish it, using the very same words i had in mind - damn, it WAS crazy. My friends knew it, her friends knew; it was all over the two of us. And then....

And then, i asked her to be my girlfriend.

And she said "no".

And i asked "why?"

And she said cos she's engaged.

And i asked to whom.

And she started telling me this dog-bites-chicken story of some dude somewhere far far away.... She was lying - she knew it, i knew it and she knew i knew it - but i was too hurt to pursue the issue. I was too hurt... I'd prepared for days for this, i was so sure, the signs were all there... I was numb with hurt. But hey, life goes on right? So i went away, bearing away my rejected heart - i don't know how to put this, how to explain in words what it felt like. I couldn't think straight for days.

Oluchi was sorry - really, really sorry - giving me the "we-can-still-be-friends" line. Fcuk that, i said; 2nd place is for suckers. But Oluchi persisted - bless her heart - she kept on calling and checking on me until i relented, and we became more or less friends again. Whatever the fcuk that was.

We got close again in final year; that was 4 years later and i was now... well, i wasn't the good boy i used to be anymore. But Oluchi didn't seem to mind, guess she took me just the way i was. She'd just moved off-campus and her house was somehow close to mine - but it wasn't the same any more. Rejection isn't something one forgets easily, plus i now had a string of girlfriends. Ok, maybe not a whole string, but definitely a handful, yep. Oluchi invited me to her place one night. I went. But nothing happened - i liked Oluchi too much for just a one-night stand, but my pride wouldn't let me get back together with her. Plus there was now this girl i really liked a lot. So i went away, and....

And the next day, Oluchi got herself a new boyfriend. Hell's gat no fury as a woman scorned. But there's one question i still can't wrap my head around to this day: Why did Oluchi refuse me when i was her's to keep??

All that is history now shaa. Oluchi is married now; she gave birth late last year. We still call each other, and she still laughs at my jokes. But sometimes, i wonder...

Wednesday, 16 September 2009


More than a week ago, i posted that my life was going into a down-ward spiral; well, guess what? SALVATION!! Hahaha! I've been saved! Okay, i better calm down and talk like a grown-up... tehheeehee!

Ok, here's the jek: I'VE BEEN MOVED TO A NEW UNIT - HYDROSURVEY!! Yeah baby! No more load-outs in the middle of the night or on sunday morning; no more crazy asshole-of-a-trainee-manager hanging on my case (yes o, shebi i promised to tell y'all about him sometime? No worry, jist dey flenty-flenty); eh-ehe, no more 24hrs suit-up in smelly cover-alls and RedWing boots (i kinda miss that one shaa... in a funny sorta way - and i miss my pal Alex); well, no more of all that. Its a whole new unit for moi, and i'm loving it!

Okay, okay, msheeeeww, wasn't i supposed to calm down?

You must be wondering what's so exciting about Hydrosurvey, right? Well, its cos it's in line with my career path - i did geophysics, see - and the unit is into deep-sea bathymetric surveys and offshore rig-move jobs for major E&P's, big-time. So if i shine my eye well-well, this dude could be scooping in offshore out-of-station allowances in no time. Plus my career is back online again; i'm already teaching moiself AutoCAD; get the cert into the bag, move unto another prog, and the sky is the limit. Hahaa, its Salvation baby!!!

See, thing is, i should've been posted to the unit immediately after the Graduate Programme, but issues came up... you know, stupid intra-company naija-mentality ish, plus i don already collect reputation for being a stubborn mule before. But level don pure now.

But dem dey still owe me o!!! lol! Management promises before the week's over shaa; walahi, if dem renege on that, mehn some people so see pepper o.

And to all the bee-yotiful bee-yotiful naija-ninjas who took time to console during my period of agonizing distress (chai, supu oyibo ka mmadu nwuru! lol!) - chybabe, ManC, Ada bekee, Rep_1, Myne Whitman and Solomonsydelle - thanks a lot mehn, y'all are an Army of Angels.

Abeg my people, it's almost 8pm, i wan run go house before security lock me in, i go yarn una the full step-by-step tori as soon as i get my house online conn up again - which is unitl pay enter bank, lol! For now i dey peesh for company systems - who no like awoof? :D

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Swing Low...

First things first; thanks to all the nice folks who suggested ways to handle my August visitor and kid bros - miss.fab, fabulola, Ada-bekee, Dark Neo (mehn, that bribe idea really worked!), chybabe, duffie-gurl - thanks a lot. In fact, i should have updated you guys earlier, my bad, i'm really on a bad swing low now...

Well ina nutshell, Z came on friday evening as planned, i picked her up with a taxi-drop (i no get car naw, wetin home-boy go do?); she wanted to meet #2 (my bros), so the sharp guy was still around. We went home; she met #2, and they took to each other like bread and butter - of course my laser beams were on high alert in case bros over-dos it, lol. Ok, we hanged out wiv a coupla my friends; babe doesn't drink, hates the smell of cigarette - in fact i had to drag her out, almost spoiled the fun - #2 went home wiv one of my guys, i don already arrange im side, im go from there go exile.... See, hapu ogologo bekee; grown men don't kiss and tell (according to Robby Scribbles aka Mayor of Blogsterbridge aka "Let's Go There!!"), but mehn its good to have a good mamacita, mmmh, see congo! By sunday morning i was wondering if this is what it was like to be married.

Ahh... Z's gone shaa, she left monday morning - and i was like 3 hours late for work; #2 came back on tuesday, and evrything is back to its normal blah status. Damn.

See folks, i shoulda posted all this days ago, but i just couldn't summon the effort. Now before y'all start empathizing, let me state categorically: It Is Has Absolutely NOTHING To Do With The Mamacita Gone Home, okay?? Nothing! It just that my whole life is on this swing low parabola, and i'm getting sick and tired of trying to hitch it all up.

I've been owed salaries for two months.

I lent the bulk of my savings to a close family member; i'm yet to get my dough back.

My investment plans have been stalled.

I'm really, really unhappy. I think i'm gonna be away for a while, i think...

I never wanted to mention all this, but i didn't want my silence and absence to be misunderstood. See, i know i'm gonna pull through all these ish; its just the time, the TIME that's paining me - i'm never gonna get back yesterday again.

Oh shit, look at me whining all over blogsville, abeg don't be sad for me o, i'm a survivor!

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

August Visitor

I want to officially send out a big thank-you kiss to all the fine naija-ninjas who've joined my followers' club over the last four months. Yes, my followes' club - that little black corner wiv pitchers innit, just a little lower down and to the right. Honestly, you guys are a real boost to my already over-blown ego (lol!) and i really really appreciate it.

Ok umm, see eh, actually the kiss is only for the ladies o.... Danny, Scribbles, Jo Philip, Noty, and Sugar-K, abeg make una come this side collect hand-shake, no vex abeg... "Yo, wats'up my dawg... (does complicated hand-shake), thanks for hanging out wiv me, man, you're my homie f'life, f'real!!"

That's done! Oya, all the sexy, sexy mamasitas wey dey my convoy - fabulola, Elusive-B, adaeze, naija shawty, Ms. Dufalicious (mehn, dont you just lurrvvv that name!) and chayoma - here's to y'all: MMMWWWAAAAAAAAHH!!!!

Mmmm.... that was one wet kiss. Sigh. Don't you just love kissing the ladies?

Alright, to the business of the day.

I've got a little problem. I'm gonna have an august visitor by weekend and my brother is still around. See, i live in a self-contained room - one big room, one short corridor, a kitchen at the end of it, and a bathroom-cum-toilet attached - the place is really tight and i like to pretend it's actually a "self-contained apartment", but wth am i fooling? Ok, then two weeks ago, my brother (a year younger than i am) came around; he just finished from university, and he's gonna be around for a looooooonnng time. I mean, the guy na correct nwa-guy, i dig his ish, he digs mine, its really fun having him around - plus he cooks!! (Aha, i know Blogville babes will start ask me for his phone #... hehehe)

Now, the wahala there be say my sweet-heart from way back in school, Z, is coming to spend the weekend with me - with my brother in the same room!! Now, i know this gurl; she's like the "straightest" chic i've ever met. This is something she's NEVER done with ANY guy, visiting for the weekend, i mean. Yeah, i can see NBB already smirking at the corner, but hey trust me, i know this gurl, she's THIS uptight. Plus it was her that called and told me she wants to come over. Mehn, i couldn't believe it. I've been waiting to hear her say that for years - i'm not kiding - years!! Of course, in the mean time i just dey collect away matches... bodi no be fire-wood naw.

I played it cool shaa, asked her to repeat what she’d just said… she giggled and repeated that she was thinking of coming down to my place for the wkend. Her voice had a quiver when she said it again, i could almost feel the nervousness tingling down her spine. And i really really REALLY lov..., no, love is too strong; I really REALLY like Z. Sometimes, i think its gonna be her that I will.... mmmmh!

Mehn, I don think am go forward, think am go backward; walahi, bros will have to go on exile o! Its just that he doesn’t have any real friend in P.H yet, and I know he’s not gonna like crashing in my friends’ place. But kai, I can’t have bros sleeping in with me and Z, no way! Abeg blogsville, any ideas?? Bcos me i wan shine the congo this weekend o!

UPDATE: My people, see me as i take miss out one correct mamasita for my chikito convoy: Miss Fab!! Chai, nne oya na you go get the longest and juiciest of... nay, the gentlest and loveliest of all kisses: Mmwwwaaaah!!!

Friday, 21 August 2009

10 Words of Wisdom - Waffi Brand

I got me a collection of Waffi proverbs i culled from NL; thought y'all might enjoy them. BTW, if you are naija-born and you no sabi wetin "waffi" mean, then je-je click Reload. You can continue your journey of discovery from there. :D


WORDS OF OUR POPSI - Waffi-Saffi Remix

1. Escort me, Escort me, naim slave trade take start.

2. He who laughs last.... na serious mumu. Na now he know wetin dey happen??

3. All work and no play, na banker be that!

4. Birds of the same feather, na the same mama born dem.

5. He who lives in a glass house, na him pepe rest!! :D

6. Na determination dey make okada-rider overtake trailer.

7. Like play like play, naim Ngozi take carry belle.

8. Rat wey dey pass snake-hole take reach him house, no be small work im do.

9. When monkey wear canvas enter town, una go know say im get plan.

10. Mosquito wey perch for brokos, na small-small dem dey carry kill am.

And lastly, my personal favorite: Over-skill na im dey kill Ninja! (lol, Chayoma take note!!)

Friday, 14 August 2009

The Asshole and The Mopol

Can't believe the month is almost half gone.... ah well, blame it on the ahh-ah-ah-ahh-aah-asshole of a job i'm employed at. All around, folks are "Tweeting" and "Facebooking", i'm wondering when the world left me behind. Sure i have a FB account but that was cos ALL my friends are on FB, nwa-guy was beginning to look like an oddity. I guess sooner or later i'm gonna start tweeting as well - Naughty says i should look for him there... if only he knew!

By the way Naughty, thanks for the free Commercial Advertisement! If it didn't sound so gay i'd said i love you man, but it does sound gay, so... teeheeehehe, i don't bend in that direction!

Ok, now for what i came here to say - 2 things actually:

Number 1: My boss must be related to Ebenezer Schrooge, cos he's an ASS-HOLE!!! A very, VERY BIIGGG ASS-HOLLEEEE!!!! Mmmh, that should do. I'll tell y'all what he did sometime soon. Promise.

Number 2: Nigerian policemen are the worst (or very near the worst) in the world. See, its my personal view, ok, i aint gat no data to back all this ish up, but maka Chineke kere umu-Israel those guys are horrible! Especially the mobile policemen - better known as Mopol (or if you prefer, mmofo... and no its not a typo error, it is actually pronounced "Mmofo" - you kinda drag the M).

I know Mopols intimidating ordinary citizens is no news to any home-grown Nigerian, but it never ceases to bring out the barbarian in me whenever i see those bastards violating people's rights. The other day i was coming home from work and one crazy mmofo tried to flog the driver of the bus i was in cos he jumped lanes. Now, get it straight, i am NOT in support of drivers who break traffic rules, aight. But nothing, NOTHING at all gives the traffic warden or cop or mmofo or wharreva they call themselves these days, the right to flog another human being. Nofin!! Meehn, i was freaking pissed! I railed at the crazy Mopol, near got my ass into trouble in the process (lol!), but hey we didn't get this far by backing away from gun-toting maniacs, did we? Sugarbabe 2.0 knows what i mean; dictators remain dictators only because the people don't mind being dictated to. (And yes, that one isn't a typo either - Sugarbabe sounds a huge lot better than Sugarbelly, abi Nice nne don't you think so?).

On a nicer note, i'm going swimming tomorrow. The whole gaddamn day - fcuk the job, about time i gave Mr. Schrooge a piece of me mind anyway.


P.S: I no know say Mopol dey Wikipedia o. Shoo! Mmofo don enter computer, lol! Check for yourself.

Saturday, 1 August 2009

Spotlight: The Dark Knight

I re-watched my Dark-Knight dvd three days ago, and mehn i still dey gbadu that film. Such a far cry from "the-young-shall-grow" Spiderman (Spidy fans, una sorry o!) and play-boy Ironman; Christopher Nolan's Batman is the truest representation (as far as i'm concerned) of the modern hero we deserve, and the kind of world he'd find himself saving. Not some dashing knight in shining armor who swoops in and saves the day and everyone cheers and the bad guys hang their heads in shame, no. We all know it never happens like that - at least, not in this crazy world we live.

Now, apart from the super-hero angle of things, The Dark Knight also nudges me to think about the good/evil within all of us. I came across a fine blog on the movie today, and i was really struck by what it had to say. Like the Bible says "all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory, the movie highlights the fact that we all have the in-built capacity to be both angelically good and diabolically evil; the dividing line between the good guy and the bad is simply the choice each one makes. Thus, it is this inherent ability to do both good and evil that the character of the Joker (superbly played by Heath Ledger, R.I.P) capitalizes on, his aim being to prove that EVERYONE is as crazy and homicidal as he is, and would kill - just like him - if placed in the right spot. And that spot being a world completely without rules, hence his favorite question: Why so serious?? :D

My friends and i watched Dark Knight when it first premiered last year, and all i kept hearing from 'em was how terrific Heath Ledger was with his potrayal of the Joker. Granted, the Joker was really tight, but what struck me most was the Batman's ultimate sacrifice - accepting to take the blame for Harvey Dent's actions, so that the past good deeds of Gotham's "White Knight" would not be marred by the later murders committed by his grief-deranged mind. And so, Gotham's avenging angel became its most wanted fugitive, cos he took the fall for another man's actions..... dunnit make you wanna weep?!

On a side note, I actually debated whether to call this post "Why So Serious?"; that's how tight the Joker's lines are. But hey, it aint him the spotlight is on. So scratch that.

P.S: This is NOT a diss post! I love Spidy and i think Ironman is the best thing ever since the Incredible Hulk! Just so you know it, teehehehe.

Saturday, 25 July 2009

Evidence of Stress

Hi Blogsville! Howz the week been? Mine was quite eventful, yup, eventful. Let's see: i went to work, then ummm, i went to work some more, and then i went to . . . . work again! Ok, i'm not so good at being sarcastic so i better can it. At least i'm at home today - told my supervisor i had anus-ache (i've complained of all the other aches before - head, stomach, shoulder, waist, feet, eyes, nose, mouth, you name it). Of course there's still one more ache to complain of (teeheehee!); the day i complain of that one, they'll give me 3 months leave with double pay!!

See, there's this thing i always come across in novels, mostly ones with a bit of romance (i don't read plain romance; too simple and unrealistic for me); its about this thing were a guy sees a girl (or vice versa) and he/she somehow forgets what he/she was doing or talking about. I never really agreed with it - at least, not with the way it's usually descibed. Well, it happened to me this morning - i couldn't believe it!

I was out to buy bread for me humble breakfast. Now, there's this place i always buy from, i'm used the little scamp of a kid whose always selling. But this morning there was another chic as well. I actually thought she was buying something - like me - but then she asked what i wanted. I don't know how to explain this, cos i have absolutely no intention of "chyking" her (una know wetin be chyking, abi?), but I was quite intrigued by her brisk efficiency (frankly, that other kid was the personification of sluggish). Ok, so i tell her what i want, and she gets the loaf of bread, packages it in a black polythene and places it in front of me. Meanwhile, my mind is somewhere else wondering if she's related to the owner of the shop, maybe the younger sister or eldest daughter, but she ain't so pretty, well her smartness more than compensates for that, plus she wouldn't be so bad if she smiled more - and for that matter why isn't she smiling? Mmmh, well, guess she's the serious type, way too serious if you ask me ....

I suddenly realize that i'm the only customer left, and the girl is now giving me odd looks. I smile at myself, pay and go away. Now, what da hell was i thinking going off on that crazy mental tangent?

Maybe its stress shaa. I'll probably complain of that critical ache next monday after all.

Sunday, 12 July 2009

Arrogant Little Puppy

Maybe it's writer's block, i don't know but i've been meaning to put up something for ages now. Each time i start out, i take this long look at my barren blogpage, and then i go: "Aww meehn, i'll do it later." Well, right now, i'm stuck in the hospital - bad case of malaria - with nothing better to do. So, i'm finally doing it; problem is, it doesn't have much substance.

I think i hate hospitals. I know i never really liked them, but right now i think my dislike has gone up an extra notch. But what i hate most is being ill - being weak and frail and having to bear all those pitying looks from people - like yesterday when i was puking like . . . like, well, i don't know. See, please don't misunderstand me, i know those looks are outward evidence of the compassion that they feel for me... but still, i really detest those looks; it makes me feel like a rain-beaten puppy. Sounds arrogant, yes, but i really don't appreciate feeling like a rain-beaten puppy.

Anyway, the good news is i'll probably be discharged today - right after i collect the blood-test results from whoever it is that is handling it. I was pretty winded when they collected the blood sample yesterday, but i distinctly remember telling the male nurse that i'd like to see the results as soon as possible. Since then, each time i inquire about it, i get something in the line of "oh, that test! Ok, i'll get it as soon as it's out", or "relax, get well first..." and so on. Well, i intend to get that result before i leave. Maybe they're hiding something, a HIV+ result perhaps....

I'm ok now shaa, but i have a bone to pick with my friend M; called him and asked if he could help get me a change of clothes from my house, and this scalawag of a dude said he was in church and can't help. Church my hairy behind!! Your friend is in the hospital, and your excuse for not helping is that you are in church? What do you think God will say when he sees you, pat you on the back and give you a villa in Paradise? God damn.

That's about it, blogsville. Now lemme go and see about that blood-test....

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Na Who Born D Magga??

Walahi,this one was too mush! I just couldn't stomach it, i had to break my "blog-fast" to post this.

Abeg, how many of y'all read the Guardian Newspaper last sunday? Renown columnist and intrepid journalist, Reuben Abati, woke up in the morning and decided he needed to widen his scope of journalistic activity. Guess were he decided to re-test his writing skills? The Nigerian music industry (can you imagine it?!). Well, little did he know he was officially on a long ting. I mean, i respect Mr. Abati's blunt and smart analysis of our nation political/socio-economic terrain (i no go lie, d guy na one smart journalist), but mehnn, Oga Reuben really blew it this time. Wtf was he thinking writing that - excuse my french - bullshit?? Anyway shaa, i won't start repeating the 95% crap he wrote now (you can read it here if you want), but basically - summarily - inna nutshell, the magga just has an issue with naija hip-hop. Talk about a GENERATION gap.

Ok, so i thought i was the only dude pissed off, hahahahaa, little did i know what storm was brewing. First thing monday morning, Banky W (a.k.a Mr Capable) replied with a well-thought out rejoinder. God, it was su-weeeet! And the best thing was my man Banky just stayed respectful and diplomatic (no brother-hating and dissing and all that shit). Me love you, Bankii!

Not so with "Big-Boy" el Dee; nna-eh, the nwa-guy use Baba Abati wipe floor o! I read his response to Abati on, and LWKMD! Chineke, elDee vex no be small.

But the final funeral ceremony to Mr. Abati's piece, however, happened on (yep, you guessed right!) (for the record, nairalanders are crazy; you just don't f**k with'em) My people for Blogsville, unu hu ihe NLers mere dis guy, they finish the man eh, nothing remain again! I laffed so hard, my stomach began to hurt. One poster put it very quaintly: E don be for Abati! Seriously, i started feeling sorry for the old fella; Abati isn't a kid in the world of journalism, why in God's name did he have to go and write such shit? Any idiot would've known crap like that was gonna hit naija youths on the crazy nerve.

Well, one last thing before i sign off: Shit like this is the reason lizards shouldn't try to fly. Damn it, nyagga, stick to whachu know best!

Thursday, 18 June 2009

School 1977 vs. School 2007

Hello blogsville! Long time no see. I'm here now shaa...
Saw something on Nairaland, was quite funny. Here, read for yoself:


School 1977 vs. School 2007

Scenario 1: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.

1977 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up mates.

2007 - Police are called, Armed Response Unit arrives and arrests Johnny and Mark. Mobiles phones with evidence of fight are confiscated. Both are charged with assault, ASBOs are taken out and suspended even though Johnny started it. Diversionary conferences and parent meetings conducted. Mobile phone video shown on 6 internet sites.

Scenario 2: Jeffrey won't sit still in class, disrupts other students.

1977 - Jeffrey is sent to the principal's office and given 6 of the best. Returns to class, sits still and never disrupts the class again.

2007 - Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. Counselled to death. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADHD. School gets extra funding because Jeffrey has a disability. Jeffrey drops out of school.

Scenario 3: Billy breaks a window in his neighbour's car and his Dad gives him the slipper.

1977 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normally, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.

2007 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. Psychologist convinces Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mum has an affair with the psychologist. Psychologist gets a promotion.

Scenario: Mark brings cigarettes to school .

1977 - Mark shares a smoke with the school principal out on the smoking area. (Not in Naija)

2007 - Police are called and Mark is expelled from School for drug possession. His car is searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario: Mohammed fails GCSE English.

1977 - Mohammed retakes his exam, passes and goes to college.

2007 - Mohammed's cause is taken up by local human rights group. Newspaper articles appear nationally, insisting that making English a requirement in school is racist. Civil Liberties Association files class action lawsuit against state school system and his English teacher. English is banned from core curriculum. Mohammed is given his qualification anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers, puts them in a model plane paint bottle and blows up an anthill.

1977 - Ants die.

2007 - MI5 and police are called and Johnny is charged with perpetrating acts of terrorism. Teams investigate parents, siblings are removed from the home, computers are confiscated, and Johnny's dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly with American airlines ever again.

Scenario: Johnny falls during playtime and scrapes his knee. His teacher, Mary, finds him crying, and gives him a hug to comfort him.

1977 - Johnny soon feels better and goes back to playing.

2007 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces three years in prison. Johnny undergoes five years of therapy; becomes gay.

------------ --------- --------- --------

And Nigeria.

1977 - Someone plans a coup and takes over the government. Steals all the money. Nothing Happens

2007 - We get to elect government into office. They steal all the money. Nothing happens.

Well at least, things stay the same in Nigeria!

Wednesday, 10 June 2009

Constant Tin Soldier

Nnaa mehhhn, i can't remember when last my life was this busy; fact is, i'm not even sure i've ever been this busy. Shooo! Come see work o. From 8am to 5pm, i dey inside cover-alls dey sling drill-pipes, run from one inspection company to another to check status of our tools. And when it's not that, na so-so run up and down, photocopy this, laminate that, update this file, update that one, type up that report, arrange tool-list for this load-out, prepare delivery note...

For the last two weeks i've been at my work-place EVERYDAY - saturdays and sundays included! The last time i complained to HR (that was like four months ago, while i was still on their stupid training), my boss heard of it and read me the Riot Act. Kay9, please explain to me in very simple terms what you meant by "being over-worked". In fact, i want it in writing, in black-and-white! Put it in writing what exactly you meant by "being over-worked", because i really don't understand that phrase. And i want it on my desk within 10 minutes! I was stunned. Chineke lekwa! Is this what happens when people complain around here?? Nnaa, jee-jeely, i typed up the letter with "i'm very sorry" and "i sincerely and humbly apologize" all over the place, and submitted to him. Thankfully, it ended there. I learnt my lesson shaa; if you don't like the system, kindly hand in your resignation letter. What with economic crunch and all, the resignation letter will be gladly accepted.

But my wahala no end for office o, PH itself come be another ye-ye useless town join. Come see hold-up! Morning, afternoon, night - twenty-fcking-four hours of the day! By the time i get home, it's already like 6.30 - 7pm. I'm already gassed-out; the only thing in my head is to go to bed. I close my eyes, next thing it's 5.30am and my nokia phone alarm is screeching its head off. Grudgingly - grudgingly, see, coz if i waste time, my colleague's car will leave without me, and then o kara m njo. (lol) So grudgingly, i get up, brush, bathe, dress up, wait for the car, then on to the waiting traffic jam. The life of the Constant Tin Soldier; even eke-uke never had it this bad. I no even get time for my precious blogsville. O dikwa somehow!

Monday, 8 June 2009

Dear God

Dear God,

I believe in you. I don't care what new theory scientists have cooked up; I believe that you exist, God, and that the entire universe is a product of your hands. The rising sun, the twinkling stars at night, the cry of the new-born babe, the smile in the eyes of a beloved one - all these tell me that you exist.

And so, my dear father, I have come to talk to you. I want to tell you that I am grateful for all you have given me: my parents, my brothers, my life, my swift education, my job...

God, I admit I get carried away every now and then, success getting into my head, but I always try to remind myself that I’m not that exceptionally smart, or intelligent, or anything… And what if I am? Heck, so are half a million other people. It’s just plain luck – plain, dumb luck. And why all this luck? Simple, my Father in heaven loves me.

Dear God, I regret to say that I’ve never really been a role-model child of yours. I try to convince myself that the 10 Commandments is more or less out of sync with today’s world, but… but I know I’m just looking for excuses to justify my actions. I get angry easily. I’m as stubborn as a mule. I have a terrible temper. Sometimes, I say things out of turn, mean things. I am fly and flip about the most serious issues in the bible, like sex and being born-again. I like to think that I’m generous, but deep down, I think I am the most stingy and calculative person in my father’s house.

And I don’t pray enough.

The list goes on and on….

Dear God, I am sorry. A part of me wants to think that I haven’t really offended anybody, I know – I know that I have offended you. My dear Father, I am very sorry.
In all honesty and truth, I can’t swear never to do the things I have mentioned here. But I promise that I will try. I will try as hard as I can to be a better man. A better man for You; a better man for my family; a better man for my friends; a better man for my country. Through Your grace, I will succeed.

In Jesus’ name I pray.


Tuesday, 26 May 2009

It lasts and lasts and lasts!

This post was prompted by NiceAnon's post, Curiosity Killed The Cat. But it is not about curiosity, no, NiceAnon has done justice to that. Rather, it is about something much simpler: Imperial Leather. Cusson's Imperial Leather..... the soap that lasts, and lasts, and lasts. Boy oh boy, did i hate that soap!

Between 1994 and 2001 when I finally escaped into the university - yes, I actually escaped! Home had literally become Hell - things weren't exactly smooth for my family. Area General's biz was going south, and no matter how hard he tried the darn thing just refused to change course. So a new decree was promulgated: the "Decree of Conservation". No more wastage. No unnecessary sweets and biscuits. No more watching the telly unless it was NTA Network News. No more using toilet paper unless you really REALLY needed to. Mehhn, no be small ting-o. Long before I encountered the Law of Conservation of Energy in physics and chemistry, I knew what it was all about.

Next came the "Decree of Scarce Resources and Opportunity Costs". This decree became the 10 Commandments that determined what was bought in our house. No article which had a cheaper and/or last-longing variety was ever purchased again. And so, my brothers and I - five of us then, no girl, thank God - were introduced to the wonderful world of Cusson's Imperial Leather, the soap that lasts and lasts and lasts!

Nna-eh, that soap refused to finish! We will use it and use it and use it, and yet it would still remain. Long after all the scent and goodies in it had evaporated or gone wherever they go to - usually in less than two days after the soap was bought - the soap itself would still remain. Mind you, it was all of us using it-o: dad(Area General), mum, myself, #2, #3, #4 (who was always demanding for biscuits), and little #5 (whom i swear was heavier than Yokozuna), plus the occasional aunt or uncle. All of us would attack this soap, yet it ALWAYS lasted for at least two weeks. One bar of toilet soap! Chineke e kwela ihe ojo! (God forbid bad ting!)

Around 1999/2000 shaa, Area General's affairs improved somewhat, and we slowly - sloooooowwwwwwllyy eased off to Premier soap (the family size brand), then Lux, and much later Dettol and Delta. I used to worry that mum was using the same soap with us until I found out she'd been buying her own special toilet soaps all along. Good for her. And good thing too I didn't have a sister; if it'd been hard for me, I wonder what it would have been for her, using the same soap with everyone else in the family - and Imperial Leather at that!

Area General still buys the darned soap up till now, but he uses it alone - for weeks on end, cos the frigging thing still lasts and lasts and lasts.... :D

Sunday, 24 May 2009

Cry for Justice

I did not plan this post; it just happened. Horrible things are happening all over this country and little or nothing is being done about it. Civilians are being murdered in the current military offensive in the Niger Delta in the name of fighting militants.

But I agree with Danny: Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows - Gal 6:7.

Friday, 22 May 2009

Opinion Poll - I bind and curse!

Shooo, my opinion poll has been up for like a week now, and only THREE people have voted. Haba!

See, I refuse to accept that only three people have visited my blog in the past one week, mmmh-mmh, I refuse. It is not my portion,
mba-nu. In fact, right here and now, I come against any spirit of non-readership, non-followership, and non-poll-clickingship. I curse and bind them and render them totally and absolutely powerless in Jesus' name!! AMMEEEEEEENN!!! OHHHH, Somebody give da Lord a big hand! Clap-clap-clap-clap!

Oya, abeg, make una begin cast una vote, and I promise what to happened to Ekiti State won't happen here. Check out the title:
WHO IN YOUR OPINION IS USUALLY THE UNFAITHFUL ONE IN RELATIONSHIPS? You see am, very juicy and tantalizing. Oya, run and buy your copy - eh, sorry, run click on your choice NOW!!
Na only one week remain-o!

UPDATE: Ok, the polls don increase to six. Good. Nice..... But e still neva do me-ooh!

LOL! Much love, peeps.

Monday, 18 May 2009

Best Laid Plans

Just a short story I wrote months ago while I was waiting for invitations to job interviews. I'd posted it at Nairaland before, but I felt folks in blogsville wouldn't mind a copy of their own. Basically a robbery gone awry seen from the robber's point of view. Enjoy!

The large pendulum clock inside the bank manager’s office struck 11:00am – eleven ominous strokes of doom. Standing in front of the huge reinforced-metal bank safe was the bank manager himself, his brows beaded with perspiration, and his fingers trembling as he tried to open the safe’s combination lock system. The manager’s fingers were trembling because the muzzle of a black evil-looking Beretta Desert Eagle was leveled right behind him at the base of his precious medulla oblongata. And standing behind the Beretta, with a finger resting gently on the trigger, was me.

Long story cut short: I was robbing a bank.

Long story cut shorter: I didn’t get away with it.

You see, robbing a bank is never an easy task. It almost always flops – the point man might fail to spot a potential danger; the escape route might be poorly constructed; the bank manager might delay too much and jeopardize the venture; one of your men might get trigger-happy and set-off an ugly chain-reaction; or some dude might decide to play hero – anything, just about anything could happen. And only one of such unforeseen incidents is enough to send the entire mission to hell in a hand-basket.

But I didn't reckon such a thing happening in this operation. I was in-charge this time, you see, and that meant that the mission would go exactly as planned – or so I had thought. Like clockwork, that’s how I described it to my men last night while I was detailing the plan to them. Zeke, at my side, had listened and nodded. There were five others: Osumo, who looked like a boxer, Atanda, Uchman, and the Alaye twins. And myself, of course, the C-in-C.

The plan was watertight. We had the complete building plans of the bank, with the three egresses marked out in red. The positions and number of security personnel in each part of the building was also indicated. We even had a man inside, one of the security guys named Okoro; his job was to disable the metal-detector entrance doors. Besides this, we also had a hand-drawn map of the network of roads and streets surrounding the bank, with the best escape route marked out. When I finished explaining the plan to them, Zeke nodded again and smiled. “Exquisite,” he said. The others were also impressed by the brilliance of it all.

And now, as I stood inside the bank manager’s office, gun-in-hand, watching him empty the bank’s safe into the large plastic bag I’d given him, I couldn’t help thinking, exquisite indeed. Outwardly, though, I was frowning enough for two. “Hurry up,” I urged, neither too harshly nor too gently, just with the right inflection to remind him of who was boss. Downstairs, I knew Osumo and Uchman would be doing the same thing with the cashiers, while Okoro and the Alaye twins would be minding the exits and monitoring the hostages, lest someone decides to play Jackie Chan. It was simply going like clockwork. It was too good to be true.

Well, hindsight never did anybody any good. After all, if Achilles had known about his heel, he’d have bought an iron shoe before going off to war. My Achilles’ heel turned out to be Osumo; who could have imagined that that gorilla of a human being had a soft spot for babies? Our undoing came in the form of a bawling seven-month-old baby.

The manager had almost cleared the safe of its contents when the loud report of a .38 Magnum pistol blasted away the tensed quietness of our mission. Only Zeke and Osumo had pistols, I thought rapidly, the rest had shotguns. Instinctively, I knew it was Osumo who’d released the shot, and as much as I hate to admit it, I actually prayed that he hadn’t hurt someone. Pushing the manager ahead of me along with the naira-filled bag, we hurried downstairs. The first sight that greeted my eyes on reaching the bank floor was a male cashier slumped backwards over his seat with a bullet-hole in between his eyes and the back of his head missing. The manager promptly keeled over and puked his half-digested breakfast into my bag of money.

A terrible racket was going on. My men were loudly ordering everyone to the ground and threatening to shoot anyone that as much as moved a micro-millimeter. The women were keening and screaming their lives’ worth. Some of the men were cowering with their heads down; those who had the courage to look up had murder in their eyes. Amidst this organized confusion, I managed to piece together from Zeke what had happened. Osumo was supposed to be watching the male cashier, but he got distracted when a little baby in the crowd of hostages started to cry. The tearful mother tried to hush the baby, but it only intensified its shrill protests. Completely engrossed in the baby’s pitiful bawling, Osumo forgot the cashier. Then Uchman suddenly shouted, jolting Osumo out of his trance. He looked back to see the cashier furtively slipping his cell-phone into his pocket. In a fit of shame and anger, Osumo pointed his gun at the cashier and pulled the trigger.

The ear-splitting din raged on.

I looked at Osumo; there was a manic glint in his eyes. I looked away, raised my gun and squeezed the trigger twice into the air. A tensed stillness fell immediately. I walked over to the dead cashier, bent over him and took the phone out of his pocket. Its screen read MTN NG. I hit the redial button with the butt of my handgun, and a normal, harmless-looking mobile phone number showed up. Could belong to anybody, I thought, probably a sweetheart or friend. I checked the time of call; it was more than three hours ago – long before we’d even arrived at the bank. I shook my head, looking up. Everyone had their eyes on me, Osumo most of all, expectantly awaiting my verdict on his action. Then I had another idea. I hit the “Menu” button on the phone, selected the “Messages” icon, and scrolled down to the “Sent Items” option. I soon found what I was looking for; the time of the last sent message was sixteen minutes ago. The destination number was a contact listed as “SARS”.

“Red line!” I screamed, dropping the phone. That was our prearranged signal for a fast get-away. The hostages started screaming and making noise again, but we ignored them this time, hauling our bulging bags of naira notes. We had to get away, fast.

Well, by now you’d have probably guessed that we didn’t make any fast get-away. We didn’t even make it out of the bank; the police were waiting for us at the gates. Those few minutes we’d wasted trying to calm the hostages had been a few minutes too many, and the SARS cops had, for once, responded rapidly to the dead cashier’s message. Talk about going to hell in hand-basket.

A shoot-out started out between us and the cops, and Uchman, Atanda and the Alaye twins went down. Zeke, Osumo and I made it back into the bank building where the hostages were still screaming their heads off. We thought of using them to bargain our way out, but at that moment dozens of tear-gas canisters burst in through the windows. Holding my breath – a painful business, I might add – I turned and dashed up the stairs to the manager’s office. Slamming the door shut and quickly bolting it, I ran to the end of the office and looked around, my breath coming in gasps. There was no other exit from the spacious room, no windows, nothing. Slowly, I realized the inevitable fact: this was the end.

Already, I could hear gunshots echoing downstairs. Exquisite, I thought, smiling and shaking my head grimly. The large pendulum clock overhead struck 12:00 noon. Exquisite indeed. A couple of gunshots echoed of the door of the office, cops yelling in the background. I let my handgun clattered to the floor, and turned to face the wall, legs apart, arms raised up in surrender. What the hell, a living dog is better than a dead lion.

The door suddenly tore away from its hinges, and the cops poured in.

The best laid plans of mice and men go aft a-gley…

Saturday, 16 May 2009

Job Seeking 101

Hi peeps!
I copied this (the post, not the pic) from a post by Ariblaze (a.k.a Blaze a.k.a Rantalot a.k.a Sir Rantster). I hope he doesn't mind.
Well, even if he does, whadda heck? He can take a flying dive in the Atlantic. Or better still, I can copy it back to nairaland for him! :D Enjoy.


Next time your application for a job is rejected, just type this up and send to them:

Dear [Interviewer' s Name]:
Thank you for your letter of [Date of Interview]. After
careful consideration I regret to inform you that I am unable to
accept your refusal to offer me employment with your firm.
This year I have had been particularly fortunate in receiving
an unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied
and promising field of candidates it is impossible for me to accept
all refusals.

Despite [Firm's Name]'s outstanding qualifications and previous
experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does
not meet with my needs at this time. Therefore, I will initiate
employment with your firm immediately following graduation. I look
forward to seeing you then.

Best of luck in rejecting future candidates.
[Your Name]

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

The Farafina Book Tour: 2nd Stop - IBADAN

9 WRITERS, 4 CITIES: The Book Tour hits Ibadan Cambridge House, Onireke, Ibadan, Saturday May 9, 2009
Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

The event which held at the now memorable Cambridge House in the Onireke area of Jericho, had in attendance the distinguished Professor Ayo Banjo (two-time Vice Chancellor of the University of Ibadan and a world-famous grammarian) as the guest of honour. The host, Joop Berkhout, is the former publisher of Spectrum Books, and a delightful host of the evening of readings, signings and literary interaction.

The programme began at 3.00pm with a journey down memory lane, as the host narrated the history of the Cambridge House and its first and most famous occupant, Christopher Okigbo. The poet and then representative of the Cambridge University Press had lived there before he left in 1967 at the beginning of the Civil War. Professor Banjo took over from Joop Berkhout with a reading from the text of the speech delivered at occasion of the dedication of Cambridge House to the memory of the seminal poet by his brother Pius Okigbo. In fact, most of the activities of the day centred on the Cambridge House and its most famous occupant. The poet polemicist, Odia Ofeimun, later read a poem from his first collection, dedicated to the memory of Christopher Okigbo, while veteran broadcaster Lindsay Barrett also did the same. A plaque at the entrance to Cambridge House is dedicated to Christopher Okigbo.

The first author to read from his work was Tade Ipadeola, poet and lawyer, author of A Time of Signs and The Rain Fardel, who read from his two works of poetry. One of his poems is a dedication to Odia Ofeimun. According to the poet, his motivation to write came mainly from his upbringing which had books littering every room in his house. A second motivation came at adulthood with his introduction to the works of Odia Ofeimun.

Then there was Jumoke Verissimo who read from her debut collection, I Am Memory. Jumoke – it goes without saying – was a captivating performer whose pregnant pauses and smooth reading cadences took the audience on an enchanting ride on the curves of love poetry. First she read “Ajani”, then “I am Memory”, and the audience broke into loud applause. For Jumoke, writing was all she had always wanted to do since childhood, and as a confessed shy personality, writing was to her a most comforting medium of expression.

Next was Eghosa Imasuen, author of To Saint Patrick, who had travelled all the way from Warri to be present at the reading. Speaking at a get-together after the event, Eghosa, who was born in Ibadan but who had never been to the city since birth, claimed to have gone into writing with a healthy dose of inferiority complex which he claimed helps the writer maintain a cool head that constantly seeks improvement. His book is an alternate history of Nigeria, written with a bold look at the “What Ifs” of our recent history. Responding to Anwuli Ojogwu’s attempt to tag him permanently into that category of writers-of-alternative-history, the medical doctor/writer immediately objected, saying that he didn’t write alternative history but wrote it. One would imagine that his next book would not have to be the alternative history of the United States Election 2008 like someone had cheekily suggested.

Toni Kan, Lagos-based poet and story writer, read a story from his book of short stories, Nights of the Creaking Bed, to rounds of applause. He had first read from his latest poetry collection, Songs of Absence and Despair, which in his words, was inspired by his observation of helpless women in a long line of Western Union collection point in the bank, and his own overwhelming feeling of loneliness while on a writing grant in Germany. His collection is published by Cassava Republic.

The next writer to read was Abimbola Adunni Adelakun, who read an excerpt from her book, Under the Brown Rusted Roofs, a novel that was longlisted for the NLNG’s Nigerian Prize for Literature 2008 and the ANA Prize. Her book tells a tale of many things in the city of brown rusted roofs, and the excerpt which the author read got the audience roaring with laughter. If there was something that Bimbo succeeded brilliantly at in this work, it was dialogue. The author, in portraying a notorious godfather of Ibadan politics, captured the crude politicking of the Molete palace that has come to define Ibadan and its way of life. Speaking before her reading, Bimbo stated that her motivation to write came primarily from a challenge by another writer Professor, Femi Osofisan, who had said at a public lecture at the University of Ibadan that writers from the city had a responsibility to tell its many stories to the world.

The famous poet of The Poet Lied fame, Odia Ofeimun, read next from his three new books, (the republished) The Poet Lied, Under African Skies and Dreams at Work. First was “All my vision vexed”, which he wrote while fleeing to Ghana from the newly created republic of Biafra in 1969. With an angry tone but lucid beautiful writing, the poem expressed the frustration of a citizen with a once functional system that had crumbled before his eyes. He next read a poem to the memory of Christopher Okigbo, before his final rendition of a poem written totally in Nigerian Pidgin English. Entitled “Pidgin Soup”, the poem took on a life of its own in the mouth of Odia like “palm oil on a dish of hot boiled yam”. “Pidgin Soup” was a wholly pidgin poem that sought to celebrate the language as an alternative to the “big grammar” of English language. Odia’s lively performance and the musical effect of his deep baritone voice left the crowd exhilarated at the end of his reading.

Igoni Barett took the floor next to read from his collection of short stories entitled From Caves of Rotten Teeth. His first reading was “A Loss” which tells the story of a young man who had lost his wallet and discovered the fact only after he was in a bus with a scary conductor. Then the poet and editor, Amatoritsero Ede, took the floor to read a second story from the collection, this one entitled “Letters”, which was a moving story of a mother, her child and a runaway father.

The final reading for the day was by Lindsay Barrett who, interestingly, is also the father of Igoni. He prefaced his reading with a long, moving story about his relationship with his writer son Igoni, whom he said he reconnected with only after about 17 years of contact. Lindsay Barrett was a veteran broadcaster in the sixties who had come to Nigeria from the Caribbean and decided to stay. He also told stories of his encounters with Wole Soyinka, Christopher Okigbo and the famous writers of the time. In a tribute to his son, Lindsay Barrett confessed to having been very impressed so far with the progress of his son’s literary career. Lindsay Barrett then read “Rivers”, a poem about the NigerDelta (where he is now based), before finally reading his tribute to the late academic, Femi Fatoba, who was his friend.

Overall, it was a well-attended programme, which had in the audience Professor Dan Izevbaye of the University of Ibadan, the musician Beautiful Nubia, poet and editor Amatoritsero Ede from Canada, and publisher Ayodele Arigbabu, among many others. There were informal autograph sessions for the signature seekers, and there were books to buy, as well as the latest issue of Farafina magazine. The train of the reading writers now heads back to Lagos for another reading on Sunday, May 17th at The Palms, before moving to Warri and Benin. There was an informal after-event on Saturday night which brought together the teacher and author Sola Olorunyomi, poet Benson Eluma, Amatoritsero Ede and poet Remi Raji. Also present were Toni Kan and Eghosa Imasuen. At the Staff Club of the University of Ibadan, over soft music and refreshments, the day ended amidst discussions of literature, music and politics.

Report by Kola Tubosun

Culled from

Monday, 11 May 2009

Extended Vacation

I made my last post to this most beloved blog of mine approximately 2 months ago. Between then and now, there’s been ZERO posts. And the reason: Yours sincerely had taken an extended vacation. Yep, an extended vacation – from blogsites, from forums, from Facebook – in fact, from the entire bligging internet. I was just so tired of it all.

Okay, by now you are probably thinking that there’s more to this “vacationing” issue than I’m letting on. Well, you’re right. With my right hand on my chest, I humbly and sorrowfully hereby confess to the following sins:
1. I confess that the reason I joined Facebook was to make contacts and pull a sizeable (Nigerian) audience;
2. I confess that the reason I joined and many other forums was to publicize my novel and other write-ups;
3. And lastly, I confess that (oh, so sad) the reason I created Kay’s Corner was to make some dough off Google adsense.

See, it was all an entrepreneurial idea from the start. And after running Kay’s Corner for more than eight months without making even a lousy fifty cent (my apologies, Mr. 50cent!), I decided it wasn’t worth the stress, hence the vacation.

But now, I’m happy to announce that I’ve come to a realization. A realization that money is not everything; that dough is not all there is to life. I have an eight-to-five job, so I’m not exactly so bad off. Plus I do love blogging – so why not just do it for the love of doing it and blog my heart away?

Well, all that said, I have come up with a brand new “me” – fun and happiness first; sales and millions of 50cents (heeheehee!) from adsense can come later. Yes, fun first, money later. Just do me a favor: don’t repeat it to anyone that’s read Rich Dad, Poor Dad, or loves Warren Buffet! in the mean time, though, my adsense advert is still running (lol!).


Thursday, 19 March 2009


It burns like fire
In the pits of consciousness
Setting the blood ablaze.
It’s a primal force,
A fireball of red thunder
That strikes and rolls across
All in its way.

In its grip,
Angels become demons
Peacemakers see blood red
And reality turns scarlet fuzzy.
Like the legendary salamander
It consumes and consumes
Till it consumes itself.

It’s a demon that possesses
One and devours all;
It’s a screaming dragon
Called fury

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

Bad Work Day

I spent a horrible day at work today. I made the erroneous decision of spending the night at the office to clear up the back-log of paper work that'd been accumulating on me for almost a week now, and then I spent the whole of today behaving like a fish out of water. Highly embarassing, I tell you. Problem was, the idea didn't seem so erroneous when I was thinking it - and why should it? There was internet access and steady power (something I never have in my house), plus there was a shower in the tool yard, so I could clean up early in the morning.

Everthing went easy peasy, and I cleared my table. Even did some extra work online on my blogsites and FX account. And then morning came and another - today - came. I just wasn't prepared for it. I was stressed out with staying awake all night (I did grab some winks that night, but it just couldn't substitute a warm, cozy bed). My head felt two sizes bigger; my boss' voice sounded louder than usual - to me anyway; and my colleagues seemed to have decided that today would be World Screaming Day. Coffee was no good, in fact it made everything worse. Then around 2p.m, I acted out the grande finale: I nodded off while standing and taking notes on a job. Luckily, my supervisor saw me just after I jerked awake. After that, I quietly went to HR and complained of "general debility". They let me off - thank God!

Sunday, 25 January 2009

Funny Pain - a poem

He came from the west
Blue-eyed and bright-eyed,
Like the others before him
Quite grown-up, yet so young.
He was by our indifference mystified
And our levity stumped;
We only ‘amened’ his libations
– What could it hurt?

Confounded at last
And befuddled, he asks:
“Why do ye suffer so, and still
“Smile so?”
But our grins just stretch wider
Belying our bleeding souls
For having aged in our cribs
We are young, yet oh so old.

“Look-ee here,” we say,
“Look, behold the slums and cities
This here land you see
Is the land of Funny Pain.
Our first-borns eat their shares
And ours, too, then speak glib
Refined tongue-in-cheek
While we, the children of lesser gods
Swallow bitter spittle, and
Guffaw in misery.”