BROTHERS, STRANGERS – Osowe Oluwagbenga (@gbengaosowe)

 

myke

 

They are brothers yet strangers,
Born of different mothers
One dark and stocky,
The other light and lithe

 
One lives for the rings
The world of punches and jabs
The more you throw, the more your belts
The other lives for the pitches,
In his world, goals and dribbles count
The more of that you have, the more your trophies
Strangers, yet brothers
Brotherhood not of blood
But of the soul, something stronger
They give their all, they hate to lose
Their teeth, a weapon on their opponents to use
Meet the soul brothers
One a Muslim, the other a Christian
Religion won’t set them apart,
For their souls bind them together
Meet stocky “Iron” Mike Tyson,
And lithe, wiry Luis Suarez
Meet the BITE brothers
Champion brothers, yet strangers
—-THE TYSON, SUAREZ STORY
Advertisements

LET’s TALK ABOUT SONGS – Osowe Oluwagbenga @gbengaosowe

 

song

 

Let’s talk about songs,

Lyrically waxed intelligent or not,

Life’s messages mapped unto beats and rhythms

Love’s sonnets arranged into soul-enriching tunes

Lullabies, sending little ones to the lands where no worries exist,

Loud, ear-assaulting, intelligence defying, peace- eroding cacophonies

Let’s talk about songs, meaningful or not

 

Let’s reminisce about Commander Obey, a philosopher, teacher

Lyrics from him taught me that seeking to please all is the key to failure,

Lessons from the father, son and donkey, I’d never forget while on earth’s soil I traverse

The Elegant stallion preaching unity and love with words so tender,

The importance of abstinence and faithfulness, Oh! What a masterpiece,

The sweetly sung duet with the Ondo-born king of World beats, a classic, never forgotten

If you love me, wait for me” a song for a lifetime

The sweet voice of the elegant stallion looking into the king of world beats

 

My emotions are taking over; maybe I should stop here, lest I cry

Why should Christy, the lady of songs die so young?

Which child of that generation did not want to do well and be the father’s pride?

What should I say of Funmi Adams, teaching me the importance of education?

 “Bata re a dun ko ko ka” plays in my brain at the sight of a female banker in high heeled shoes,

Thank God, they listened to Mike Okri, not spending their time in school on “dodo ati raisi”.
 Let’s talk about tongolo, whatever that means, only the kokomaster knows,

Who’s Tony Montana? An actor, singer, dancer, what? Never mind Naeto C is badder than him

Booty shaking videos, weed promoting songs are all I see on my TV, be it local or terrestrial

So I ask myself what becomes of the next generation,

If music be the food of the soul, so what are these young ones eating?

Junks or balanced diet, I leave you to be the judge

Let’s think about this and let’s talk about songs.

Hilarity — Isaacola AA

 

 

corruption

Its good to laugh to douse all these tension soaked country. Laugh they say does much good to the heart than any medicine.

I am a passionate Nigeria that believe in equity, justice and fairness but I took it on myself never to allow my going through affect my going to for the obvious reason of maintaining my sanity.

Let’s go! I was traveling to see my parents sometime in 1999 from school . I was at UNAD then, in case you are interested (winks). I boarded a bus as usual and was ready for the tumultuous four hours journey to Ilorin that entailed passing through numerous death traps and winding sharp bending bottle necked roads. Um, traveling to Ilorin from Ekiti land can sometimes require you to read Psalm 91 and 23 or if you are a muslim reading “Yaasin” and “Dabatiada”. The road then was quite hazardous for that matter.

The main side attraction that made the journey an unforgettable one was that, as usual, we were almost always confronted by road blocks at every bend by men in black.

The driver had already dished out twenty Naira notes at almost six places and then we were confronted by another. The driver just angrily picked the twenty Naira, rained all imaginable curses in the dictionary of Ijebu, Ijesha and Ekiti, rolled into one on the money. The police officer stretched his hand to collect the money on getting to the so called collection point when a lanky passenger spoke a police slang to the policeman and he allowed us to go.

All the passengers complaining and adding all manners of curses to the menace on the road called men in black became mute!

The moral of the story: all these monies collected through extortion and the rest!, Curses hang on them!

Think twice before you collect the next one. Don’t mortgage the future of your children !

 


We are unique, peculiar and totally mysterious to others. We cannot be bound by any known law, neither do we conform to all sets of rule and dogmas. We are just who we are, Nigerian!

Yes we are Nigerian and we are almost rule to ourselves.

Am not going to be barging you with the insurmountable political hubris we are confronted with. But I want to laugh heartily and forget your sorrows at least for now. Laughter is good for your health.

I went for a course in the country of elder statesman Mandela some five years ago. On my way back at Jo’bourgh airport. We were waiting for our flight to be called around 2pm SA time. Suddenly without any announcement on the electronic board or from the public address system I saw fellow passengers running as if we are in Lagos trying to board “molue”. Even the non- Nigerians were not left behind. Everybody seems to be bitten by the rushing bug. Unconsciously I joined.

At the boarding section, after all the rush. We still had to wait. It beat my imagination how they were able to identify our plane without announcement and…

Anyway another thing was that, I saw a middle aged woman wheeled into the plane before we the so called abled bodied men and women were allowed to board. On getting to Lagos six hours later. I saw this wheeled in woman cursing up and down at the baggage carousel because there was some delay in releasing our bags. Wow! How come the wheeled in woman is stomping up and down for bag!

Naija, I hail thee!

I’m @newnaija on twitter

The Day the Sky went Dark in Mid Morning….

sky dark

It is a situation of the weevil and the beans.  I know that now. If you can’t get the weevils out you destroy the beans…

 

We are the beans my father, mother, my sisters, all of us the villagers- the ones who work hard tilling the land and fishing to earn our living. Those people- the bombers are the weevil amongst us, the people with long flowing robes which appear wider than anyone else’s perhaps to conceal all sorts of weapons. They are the weevils that live among us. The ones who have bore holes into us and shield themselves with us.

 

The other people; the ones the government gave authority to get rid of the weevils. They believe the Beans and the weevil have been so mixed that it is better for them to destroy the beans so that the weevils get destroyed with it.

After what happened the other day I would say they have succeeded only they failed in their success. They destroyed the beans but the weevils managed to wriggle out.

 

——

Things weren’t always like this. There was a time we had peace, when all we did was pray, eat, sleep and procreate. We would all gather in the evenings, the women on mats spread in the compound. The men under the large tree which almost every compound had, some smoking Rothmans, others chewing Kola nuts. Everything started changing or at least I started noticing the change the day Uncle came for a three day visit. 

 

Uncle was my father’s brother, he lived in Abuja; the place where Mama said they had houses that were as tall as mountains and lights with all the colours of a rainbow. She said it was a beautiful place that also had an ugly part. She told me uncle lived in the ugly part. I had asked why and she had said uncle was poor that the government didn’t pay him well enough so he had to live in the filthy part of Abuja. I had asked Mama why Uncle didn’t move to the village instead of living in a filthy place and she had told me to ask uncle myself when I see him.

 

 

—–

The day uncle came, it was in the morning. He brought a newspaper like he usually did and after he had greeted every one in the house. I went to meet him in Father’s sitting room. It was a ritual; anytime uncle came around he would bring a newspaper with him. I would sit and watch as he read waiting for him to say something about what he was reading. He would watch me come in but he won’t say a word until he was through with the paper.

 

“That’s a country” Uncle suddenly exclaimed in English.

That was something I admired about uncle that he could speak English fluently. He went to school; father said that is the problem. But I don’t think it’s a problem, I want to go to school too, I want to be like Ruqqayatu and be a minister of education. When I get there I will make sure every parent sends their children to school. Corper Kalu the village teacher said I was the most brilliant and that my future is bright. I believe him and I want to realize my dreams. Mama believes that too but papa thinks I should just marry Maliq and settle down to be a good wife.

 

“That’s a country” Uncle exclaimed again.

I wondered what it was that was so exciting in the paper but I couldn’t talk yet not until he put down the paper.

“Shettima, I know you are a bright girl, listen to what I read here.” He said removing his huge glasses and placing it on his laps.

“See America is a great country, you can hate them but they are still great.”

“They caught those bombers, Allah be praised.” He added raising both palms to the ceiling.

“Which bombers uncle? Did they bomb America?” I asked surprised

“Yes, Shettima.”

“Two boys bombed America but they caught them.”  “They have them.” he added his eyes twinkling in excitement.

“You know Shettima, these things happen here everyday but no one catches them.”

“We know these people but we can’t even report them. If we report them they kill us.”

“True, Uncle. We have them in the village. They wear wide flowing gowns, their eyes……

“America is great, Shettima. I want to live there someday.” he said his eyes taking on a dreamy look.

 

 

—–

Later that evening I told Maliq about what Uncle read in the paper and his comments on it but he said I should him pay no heed that America is the great Satan.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked suddenly suspicious.

“That’s what Akeem said.”

“Maliq, I thought you promised you will no longer listen to Akeem or even talk to him?”

“I don’t.” He replied fidgeting.

“Maliq don’t lie, you must have to have heard that.”

“I overheard it, Shettima. Let it go. You are a woman, you shouldn’t be questioning me”

“Maliq” I exclaimed lifting up the edge of my veil to wipe my face in case I wasn’t seeing well.

“That’s not something you would say normally. Without doubt you have been spending a lot of time with Akeem.”

“Shettima, I would leave if you won’t give me peace”, he said standing up from the bench.

“Maliq you may leave if that’s how you would talk to me.”

“I thought we agreed that we would not act like villagers, that you would respect me. We agreed that I will be your only wife, we would never fight, you would be a senator, and I would be a minister. But you are changing now Maliq. It’s just one week that we didn’t see each other and you have changed this much.” I added giving him a disbelieving look.

 

“I know we said all that, I still want to be a senator but certain things have to change first in this country. Allah must reign supreme.”

“Maliq, when did you start talking like this? Akeem wears a big flowing gown. Have you joined those people and what’s that you have been hiding behind your back?”

 

“Nothing” he said still standing. “It’s just a letter Akeem asked me to write.”

I looked around to see if anyone was paying us attention. It was in the evening, a time when the women will bring out mats and sit while the men gathered under the tree in the compound.

Maliq and I are not allowed to touch but I needed to grab the paper in his hands. Checking carefully to make sure no one was watching us, I made to grab the letter in his hands but he walked away before I could.

I watched him leave wondering if the next time I see him he would be wearing a wide flowing robe too.

 

——

The government people came two days later, it was the morning Uncle was supposed to leave. Mama and I had woken up early to smoke the fish we would take to the market in the afternoon. She had just told me she was with child and I had jumped up in excitement.

“Mama this baby will be my child.”

“How, Shetti?” She asked smiling

“Mama, I’m fourteen now, I am old enough to be his mother.”

“That’s true Shetti but you would be busy with school, uncle wants to help you get into a secondary school in the state capital.”

That’s good news Mama. I replied referring to the baby she was carrying.

 

I looked at her dark face and wondered how excited she must be. She had been unable to conceive after she had me so I knew this must be great for her. Father’s other wives had numerous children; Mama was the only one with one child.

 

“Sit down Mama; let me turn the fish, from now on I won’t allow you to do any work.”

“No Shetti, I have to work to stay strong. You know……..”

Her last words were drowned by the sounds of sudden gun shots. We were used to hearing gun shots but there was something about this that was different.

I looked at Mama and drew her arm immediately.

“Mama let’s run for the house now” I screamed as the gun shots became louder

We ran towards the house, suddenly there were people everywhere all running in different directions, screaming on top of their voices. The gun shots kept sounding louder and louder. We ran inside Mama’s room and I lay down on the floor telling Mama to do the same. Corper Kalu had told us that lying flat on the floor was the right thing to do when there is a shooting going on. I didn’t want Mama to lie on her stomach because of the baby so I told her to lie on her back.

 

The sounds of the gun shots were so loud that we had to shout to hear each other.

“Allah protect us” Mama chanted non stop

I kept saying Amen even as a thought came to my mind that perhaps Nigeria wanted to be great like America and catch the bombers amongst us. Another thought followed it immediately telling me that that couldn’t be it.

 

We continued to hear wails, gun shots and cries outside. There were sounds of running feet and I could also hear the sound of people falling to the ground. I wished I could go to the window and see what was happening but I was too afraid to stand up.

“Allah, protect Shetti, protect me.” Mama was screaming now.

“Mama, there will be no problem. I’m sure they came for the men in wide robes. They won’t touch us Mama. We are innocent.”

“Are you sure Shetti?” she asked drawing me into her arms.

“Mama I’m sure.” I struggled to say.

 

___

Mama smelled it first.

“Shetti can you smell smoke. Houses are being burnt” she exclaimed. “We need to get out Shettima” she shouted above the thundering sounds of the guns. She tried standing up but I held her firmly.

“Mama if we go out, they will shoot us.”

“They will?” She asked, tears streaming down her face.

“Yes Mama, I think they will.”

“But who is burning our houses”? “Can it be the government people?”

“No Mama, they won’t do that to us. We are innocent citizens. They are here to protect us.”

“So do you think it’s the bombers?” “Do you think they will burn their own houses, their father’s compounds knowing their people are here?”

“No Mama, I don’t think they would do that.”

“So who is burning houses Shettima?” “It’s certainly not we the terrified villagers.”

“Mama I’m confused too” I said wrapping my arms tighter around her.

“Let’s just say AYATUL KURSI a prayer of protection.” I said clutching her palms in mine.

The sound was like nothing I had heard before. I had been in the state capital once during a fight between the government people and the wide robed people and the guns hadn’t been this loud. I suddenly wished it was all a dream and hoped someone would wake me up.

We started to say the prayers clenching each other’s hands.

We were still praying when we heard shouts in the third room to ours; the one where father’s second wife lived. We heard screams and gunshots and I felt a wetness run between my legs. I opened my mouth to continue praying but I couldn’t. I was shivering all over from fear, my throat was dry and no word could come out.      It dawned on me, we were going to die. Everyone in my father’s household.

Mama stopped praying and wiping her eyes, she said “Shetti stand up, we are leaving. I would rather die trying to escape than wait to be burnt inside the house. The whole village is on fire, it would soon get to us. That was Bisiriyu’s voice I heard just now, I fear she is no more.”

I had no wish to argue with her any longer. It seemed certain that we will die and it might be good to die trying to escape. We both stood up, walked quietly to the back door that led to the bush behind the house and started running towards the bush. I couldn’t look around as we ran but I could see smoke and bodies everywhere. The village is gone I thought. Mama and I ran blindly without a care in the world, our goal was the bush, safety.

I didn’t hear Mama scream, it was the sound of her fall that I heard; I made the scream that was supposed to come from her throat turning around to see her unmoving body.

“Oh no,” I screamed kneeling down beside her.

I didn’t see the gun man or the raised gun before I fell and the world went black.

 

——

Some people came yesterday to help us. They brought drugs but they didn’t bring food. We have drugs but we are hungry. The drugs can only help a few as most of us need more than drugs. They said the government will bring help for us soon. I don’t believe that, I have no faith in them. Was it not the government that brought us into this situation I asked Hajia Turai who lay beside me. She didn’t reply me, she merely nodded.

 

The people who came had turned the village school into a clinic and had brought flat beds which the wounded were placed on. There is no one I know here, Mama is gone; I haven’t seen Maliq, my father, uncle or any of my father’s wives or children. They are probably dead or even somewhere around but I can’t walk around to find them.

 

The people say they have no relationship with the government, that they are just a society who likes to help. We are grateful.

The doctor came to the bed where Hajia Turai and I lay and looked at my bad leg. I asked her if they will cut it, she says I should not think about that yet. But I am thinking about everything, how just yesterday I had a mother and an unborn sister or brother. I’m still crying.

“Will I still be a minister?” I asked Hajia Turai after the doctor left

“You can still be Shettima.”

“Not with one leg Hajia, not with one leg. I replied sobbing.”

“Shettima, please don’t cry, you will just probably have to use a wheel chair because of that shattered leg.”

“Hajia, if I was in America and they cut my leg, will I have to be a beggar?”

“No you won’t have to. They will give you another leg, a man made one that will work like the one God gave you.”

“Okay.” I replied turning away from her. “Now it’s clear why uncle wanted to go to America.” I thought my vision clouded with tears.

“It was a curse to have been born here.”

 

©Toyin Fabunmi April 2013

photo credit: google images

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

National Anthem Annotated – Osowe Oluwagbenga

compat

 

 

Arise! O Compatriots,

For 12 years or more of our lives we’ve said those words,

Like robots and parrots, chanting and reciting,

But to the meaning of the words we give no thoughts,

So we refuse to arise, rather we chill and relax

While our nation continually rots,

 Yet we say we’re compatriots just because

We have our green passports,

Lies! Deception and Fallacy, I tell you

 

Why can’t we, Nigeria’s call obey?

So we can have our say, not standing aside

Our fathers ignored the call in their Days, and now we their children Pay,

 As unemployment, insecurity and deaths increase,

Day by day, our nation, a symbol of moral and infrastructural Decay,

Our progress Delayed,

So we walk around with our nerves Frayed,

And all over the nation people are  afraid knowing not if they would survive another Day,

Yet our leaders, looters still collect their fat Pay whilst many go hungry every day,

 But then they ask us to pray and ask God for grace

 

 

To serve our Fatherland,

I dare say that this is not the land of my fathers,

Yes, my fathers like Awolowo, Azikiwe, Balewa, Enahoro  Ahmadu Bello

Macaulay, who dreamt of a land of opportunities and equality for all;

And not this land where things have gotten out of hand,

Criminals getting contracts to secure the wealth of our lands,

And Justice goes to the higher bidder,

So poor thieves get jailed, rich thieves get bailed,

Amidst celebrations and congratulations,

Chieftaincy titles and national honours,

Women dressed in their finest attires, loud congratulatory music

From live bands, singing and drumming,

Presidential pardons, appointments and decorations for thieves

And those their necks- fit for the guillotine- we adorn with garlands

With no reckon for the damages they have done to our lands

 

Where then is our love and strength

And faith, Love is gone with the winds cause all I see is hate,

so men hunt and kill their brothers in the name religion and love for their Maker,

Oh, the irony of the madness that brings such sadness!

Mindless murders of God’s creatures in honour of their Creator,

Human beings whom the same God they worship did Create,

 because they are not of the same faith,

Yet my Bible says “God is love” and

Therefore I marvel, when one says he belongs to the Christian faith,

And the other to the Islamic faith,

But they brim with hate, killing and maiming

Precious creatures that the Almighty in His image did create

Just because they’d rather not relate

 

You tell me, why do we say that the

Labours of our heroes past shall never be in vain,

When I see our old men and women pensioners in pain,

Dying in their numbers while waiting for their labours’ gain

Men and women on whose back the nation was built,

My mother, your father, his uncle, her aunt,

Real heroes, stories of whom you’ll not see in history books

And tabloids that glorify the number of zeroes you’re worth

The fruit of their labours are in hands of criminals, expensive criminals

Like Yusuf who paid a fine of N750 000 for N23 billion loot in this land,

And you want me to serve with heart and might?

 

 

 

 

 

I laugh at your desperate expectations

And I believe you don’t mean when you sing

One nation bound in freedom, Peace and Unity

Know ye not that there can be no unity

When we have been stripped of our dignity,

Leaders raping the land with impunity,

In corruption showing their brilliance and dexterity,

Protected by the criminal ingenuity called immunity

So my people live in helpless anxiety,

Waiting for that Messiah that will restore sanity,

 

This situation of the nation takes me to the deepest heights of depression

But then I remember the words of the second stanza of the anthem

So with faith in my heart, I say this prayer,

To the One who can save this nation

And I urge you all to raise your voices in loud and melodious AMEN

 

O God of Creation, you are the very definition of perfection,

And not the aberration our leaders thank

When they dedicate their edifices of corruption,

In your wisdom, you brought this world into completion,

Then you gave man the power of production,

When you said we should multiply and be fruitful

So we can bring our earnest desires into fruition,

Please save our leaders from their delusions, (AMEN)

That makes them think that money is the only solution

Pumping money without innovation- libations to the gods of greed and corruption

 

Father! Direct our noble cause, (AMEN)

Rid the land of those leaders that have become to us a curse, (AMEN)

Guide our leaders right, (AMEN)

Let crime take flight as young men see the light, (AMEN)

That they might indeed work hard and bring to pass that future so bright,

Help our youths the truth to know (AMEN)

Let them cease from meaningless killings of their fellows (AMEN)

Let the blood of the innocent on our streets cease to flow (AMEN)

Help them in love and honesty to grow (AMEN)

And give them a desire for Living just and true, (AMEN)

From this present darkness, see us through (AMEN)

Grant our priests the desire to speak truth (AMEN)

Till we can truly those great lofty heights attain

Give us brilliant minds and help us focus

And we will build a nation where peace and justice reign.  AMEN

 

I am @gbengaosowe

Boarding Tales (Episode X)

To read all the previous episodes, from Episode I to X, please click here

bosola 2

“Take them to the bathroom and search them” Mr Adisa ordered after searching Yewande’s stuff for over thirty minutes and not finding any of the missing items.

“Slappy must be pissing in her pants from ecstatic joy”. I thought looking at the wide grin on her face.

*****

There was no way I was going to allow Slappy and her friends humiliate me in the smelly bathroom. I may be down but I still felt the need to hold my head high.

In a split second that was too short for anyone to react, I slipped my dress off and stood naked except for my pant and bra. I looked at Mr Adisa’s face and almost chuckled at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he stared unabashedly at my body.

I made as if to remove my panties but a junior girl rushed down from her bunk and hugged me, shielding my body with hers.

“Bosola, please don’t do that, there is enough damage done already, please don’t.”

I felt a tug on my heart as I looked into her face; Feyisayo my first friend in the school, the one who had abandoned me after my escapade at the stream.

Her action released Mr Adisa from his transfixed state and clearing his throat he finally found his voice.

“Dress up, young lady.” he said averting his eyes.

Yeye, I thought, after he has already memorised every contour of my body, why bother to avert his eyes now.

I pulled the dress back on and bringing it down, I caught Yewande’s eyes, there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes and she winked at me. I shrugged inwardly wondering what that was for.

“Seeke, pat the other girl down.” Mr Adisa instructed.

A sulky Slappy went to Yewande and patted her down.

“She is clean.” Seeke said.

“Ladies, do you want this done the easy way or do I have to beat the truth out of you both?”

I smirked, the efficient Mr Adisa was back, he had been able to tuck the lecher back into the corner where he hid and brought it out whenever it was necessary.

“Sir, it is true that we spent the night with those guys but we didn’t take anything from them.” I replied

The room buzzed in excitement at my words, I looked around and saw that almost all the girls in the school had somehow found their way into my dormitory. I couldn’t blame them, it wasn’t everyday that you get to watch a real life drama free of charge.

“Those guys will be in this school on Monday morning, if by then you girls haven’t confessed as to the whereabouts of those items, I would hand you both over to the policemen that will come with them.”

“In the mean time, I’m calling your parents as soon as I get back to the office; they have to be here on Monday morning.”

I felt a pain go through my heart, I thought of how my mum would wail, how she would ask the seven elders of heaven why they allowed her to be saddled with a Jezebel re-incarnate. I thought of how she would remind Jesus how she had served him all the days of her life and how she wishes he would take me away. I could see her writhing on the floor in my mind’s eye.

“Take her away lord, take her or change her. Elohim, don’t make me kill this child by myself.”

I thought of my dad’s reaction too and decided he would be disappointed. However, he will recover faster than my mum would and start the process of getting me into another school that had “disciplined” teachers and students.

Ishhh, I sighed watching Mr Adisa as he stormed away.

I climbed my bunk to sleep but woke immediately the breakfast bell rang. Nothing will stop me from eating not even the thought of possible expulsion. Yewande joined me midway to the dining room and held my hand. I thought of snatching it away conscious of the several eyes that trailed us but decided it was better we stuck together, partners in crime that we were.

*****

The rest of the day went on uneventfully until another shrill bell went off midway into our siesta. My heart rippled in alarm and I wondered if the guys had decided to show up before Monday. The bell ringer announced that all students were to report at the assembly ground immediately.

“Here comes the shaming of a thief” I thought.

I walked to Yewande’s bunk and once again we linked hands and walked together to the assembly hall.

Since it was an informal assembly, there was no need to line up according to our classes, so I stayed behind Yewande.

We all kept quiet at Mr Adisa’s signal, he announced that the principal was on his way and there should be absolute silence.

My heart lurched in trepidation, the principal yet again; I took deep breaths trying to brace myself for what was to come.

The principal entered the assembly hall few minutes later flanked by some old men and women.

This can’t have anything to do with our crime I thought.

He climbed the hall platform and after greeting the students, he announced that the Iyalode and Olu Awo of the town would like to speak to us all.

“Iya Pupa”, someone in the next line whispered. “It has to be Iya Pupa.” The girl added

The Olu Awo addressed us and after greeting and commending us for being well behaved he announced that the masquerade festival had been slated for the coming week.

“Iya Pupa is coming out this coming week. As most of you will know, there are certain regulations that govern her outing. No woman in this town must have the same hairstyle with her. We do not know what her hairstyle will be so we will advise that you all leave your hair undone.”

Everyone started talking at the same time, I looked at Yewande confused but she simply shrugged and smiled.

“Take this” she said handing me a lollipop.

“Thanks.” I replied unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth immediately.

Quiet everyone, Mr Adisa bellowed. The hall went silent at his command and once again I wondered how he does it. It was always a mystery to me how he could be firm and irresponsible whenever it suited him.

“Also, there will be no movement in and out of the town in the coming week. The Olu Awo added.”

I looked at Yewande again, a smile curving my lips, she looked back and winked.

“No man or animal must enter or leave the village for the next one week. Thank you my dear students, I will like to assure you once again that you are all safe here.” The Olu Awo said concluding his address.

One week of grace I thought. It occurred to me that the guys might not see a reason to still come to the school after one week and I felt my heart lurch with hope.

The principal addressed us and we all dispersed afterwards. Everyone including me started undoing their hair while still on the way to the hostel, all except Yewande.

****

We were still on our way back when a junior boy told us that Mr Adisa wanted to see us both in the assembly hall.

We went back and saw him sitting on one of the chairs placed on the raised platform. Toluse was standing beside him and I felt my feet drag in shame.

There were two seats in front of him and he asked us to sit. I tried to meet Toluse’s eyes but he was determined not to meet mine. His expression was unreadable.

Okay, there goes my first relationship here, I decided shrugging.

“Listen both of you”, Mr Adisa started clearing his throat

“The principal had directed that I should still call your parents and tell them to come on the next Monday after the Masquerade festival.”

“I’m going to the office to prepare your letters once I leave here.”

“Yewande, you will be expelled because yours has been a repeat offence. Bosola you would be suspended for three weeks because you are a first time offender.”

“Are you girls okay with that?” He asked.

Yewande shrugged like she couldn’t be bothered but I kept mute,

“Anyway, it’s okay. You can both leave now.”

“I’m so sorry” I said as we walked back to the hostel.

“It’s no problem; there will always be another school. I won’t miss this school though. So many twisted things happened to me here. But I have handed over to you; I’ve given you my mandate so I’m happy”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry you would understand when I’m gone.”

****

The time was 1.00am; I woke up with a start and wondered what it was that woke me. I rubbed at my eyes and saw the light of the room was on; it was as if everyone was chanting in their sleep. I tried to listen to what they were saying;

“Blood of Jesus, Blood of Jesus”

Why are they all mumbling blood of Jesus? I asked myself even as the answer rang loudly in the night.  A wail, a growl and then an unnatural and non human cry, it seemed like that of a dog but I was shocked that a dog could make such a sound. A great fear enveloped me and I immediately murmured “Chukwu biko zoba’m”. God please protect me.

The murmurs had turned to a scream by then and they would go down as soon as the wailing went down only to come up as soon as the wailing starts again. I joined the chants too and glanced at Yewande’s bed. She was still and wrapped from head to toe in white. It wasn’t the first time I would notice her pure white blanket but something about it scared me that night.

The wailing finally stopped about half an hour later and everyone relaxed with some going back to sleep. I couldn’t sleep and lay there with the dread still in me. I started wondering if it would have been better to have been expelled after all.

“She is the one” I heard suddenly, the voice belonged to my bunk mate

“Haa, it might be Iya Pupa oo” the second voice said. They were both on my bunk mate’s bed whispering.

“No it’s not Iya pupa, it’s her. Iya Pupa’s stuff does not reach the school and besides you know this wailing thing happens even when Iya Pupa’s masquerade is not coming out.”

“You may be right though because this wailing does not happen when that girl is on suspension or out of the school.”

“Ehn ehn, you see now”

“I heard she is being expelled though, I can’t wait. Aje Oshi.” Useless witch.

I pulled my wrapper tighter wondering if it could be true that Yewande was a witch and was responsible for the wailings. I looked back at her bunk, her blanket was still over her head and it was as if she hadn’t moved at all since the last time I glanced at her. Everyone in the room had woken up except her; every one’s hair had been undone except hers.

“Hmm”, I sighed my mind racing wildly. Winks, shrugs, that unruffled stance, the I don’t give a damn attitude, the hair that wasn’t loosened. Hmm, I sighed yet again

 Two sentences jumped into my head, bringing a massive head ache with them.

“Take this”

…….”But I have handed over to you; I’ve given you my mandate so I’m happy”

“Lollipop, mandate” I whispered aloud suddenly remembering the stories of witchcraft being transferred through sweets and biscuits.

I am already a prostitute and a thief I thought remembering the books and the =N= 2,000 I had hidden under my bunk mate’s mattress. “Why had I even done that?” I asked myself for the umpteenth time since we left the guys’ apartment.

Bosola the Prostitute, Thief and perhaps Witch I thought a shiver going through me. I would gladly prefer to remain just prostitute and thief but the witchcraft part scared me.

Perhaps I’m scared for no reason I thought. She said I would understand when she leaves; perhaps I really will I concluded allowing sleep to take the reins.

 

Thanks for bearing with me, reading and sharing these series ever since the first episode.  This will be the end of  Bosola’s boarding tales. Yewande’s story will start soon. Thank you so much, I appreciate you. Chukwu Gozie gi. God bless you.

 photo credit: google images

Some Men Make You Want to Hurt Them…..

Kosi

 

 

Some men make you want to hurt them; men like my husband….

To him, he is first Tomide’s dad before he is my husband.

 

His twitter profile reads……… Thinker, Lawyer, Tomide’s dad”

 

His Facebook profile name was Tomide’s dad. Going through his albums on Facebook, you would never guess he is married. The pictures were either of him or of Tomide. You wouldn’t find a single picture of me anywhere.

 

****

His life and our marriage revolves around Tomide. He is the one that he spends seventy percent of his income on. My husband only bought me a car because I gave him a son. During the pregnancy; he believed BRT and Danfo were good enough for me. It was because of Tomide that I got the first opportunity to travel out of the country,

“My son is too precious to be born in this stupid country, let’s arrange for you to have the child in America”. 

It was because of Tomide that I had to be a stay at home mom. “I don’t want my son in a day care.” “No one can take care of him like his mother”

 

I had insisted I couldn’t be a housewife and he had promised to give me money to start a business of my choice. Five million naira later and a promise of more I agreed to quit my job. I kept the money in a fixed deposit account and chose to sit at home taking care of Tomide. My husband never asked why I didn’t start a business, he was happy to see his son have a full time nanny.

 

*****

I have no illusions; Tomide was the reason he married me. I am a baby factory, nothing more.

I still remember how my journey into baby mamahood started.

I had been spending a weekend with him like I usually did; I hadn’t been myself that particular weekend and he had noticed.

 

Baby, what’s wrong with you?

You’ve been quite sluggish of late, abi I don score goal?

“Which goal?” I had asked raising an eyebrow

“Do you want to score a goal? Did you not say you are not interested in getting married for the next five years?”

“I know I said that but I didn’t really mean it oo, pregnancy changes a lot of things you know. If you get belle now, the story go change. In fact I will marry you before the end of this month.”

“Ehn ehn, really? congrats nigbayen ooo, because I’m pregnant.”

I kicked myself inwardly the moment the words left my lips. No one was supposed to know I was pregnant. It was a pregnancy destined for termination. I had no wish to have a child for the world’s greatest loafer. The action that led to the pregnancy itself had been a mistake, a madness induced by excess alcohol intake.

“Are you kidding me?”

 Say you are joking, I told myself but I found myself confirming it instead.

“I’m not kidding.”

“You mean you are pregnant for me?” He asked pointing a finger towards his chest.

“Yes”, I replied almost choking on the lie.

That confirmation changed our relationship, I got an engagement ring the next day and two months after we were married.

Perhaps, I would have summoned the courage to tell him he wasn’t my baby’s father if everything hadn’t happened so quickly. I never had a chance to take a breath.

 

****

Being a baby factory or feeling like one is no fun. Tomide is Kosi’s world. I have a tiny corner there just because Tomide existed. Some days I feel so tempted to tell him that Tomide isn’t his son especially on days when he makes me feel like Tomide’s nanny instead of his mother.

“Why is my son’s feeding bottle on the dining table?”

“Why hasn’t his cloth been changed all day?”

“Did you buy the toy I asked you to buy?”

“How many times have you changed his diapers today?”

He would go on and on irritating me to no end.

I would want to scream, “relax oga, he is not even your son”. But I never did perhaps out of pity for him or just out of plain fear of what he will do to me.

 

Sometimes I would laugh inwardly when he bragged about how much he and his son had in common.

He would tell a friend;

“Na my forehead, nose, mouth and eyes my boy carry. He resembles me in everything. I won this one oo totally. Maybe I would give this Iya the next one, she can decide to have a girl if she likes; this one is mine.”

 

Sometimes he would turn to me and say;

“Did you see how my boy kicked that ball? He will be a good football player like his dad.”

“Did you see how he turned up his lips just now?”

“Mum said I used to do that as a kid.” He would add grinning happily.

I would nod and summon a fake smile. I would later wonder why nature decided to play such a huge joke on men, a woman would always be sure that a child was hers but men on the other hand accept whatever we present to them as theirs.

 

Tomide shared absolutely no resemblance to Kosi, their nose and forehead might be of the same shape but I was sure there were millions of other people who had the same type of forehead and nose.  I knew for certain that Kosi’s blindness would be cured if he saw Tomide and his biological father together. My son is the split image of Setan. I don’t like it but there was no doubt about it. I could only hope that they would have different behavioral patterns.

 

*****

It is not my wish to tell Kosi he has been wasting his time and money for the last three years but Kosi tempts me so much. Each time he treats me like a machine that produces children and takes care of the house, I feel like screaming the truth just to hurt him. I have tried to keep myself from saying it for three long years but I feel one day I won’t be able to restrain myself.

I fear that a day would come when I would scream it out; he would go pale in shock and would ask me if I was saying it just to hurt him or if it was true, he would point at Tomide and say, “he is not my son?” I would nod, grab my son and run. Five million naira plus the more that will come should go a long way in taking care of a woman and her child or would it not? One can’t be too sure these days.

 

photo credit: google images

Previous Older Entries

Moskeda Lounge

Relax, Read, Chat and Maybe even Toast

One Word More

one word at a time

theinkheartblog

letting the ink tell the tales conceived in my mind.........

HaroldWrites

The Pen Whisperer

Malcolm's Blog

My vantage point laced with acerbic muse of experiences, events and people. I am responsible for what i write; not for what you understand. Welcome to my world...

Farafina Books

Telling Our Own Stories...

Kayode Faniyi

literature. life. guff.

Newnaija's Place

...dancing to a distant drumbeat...

Seun Odukoya

Your Stories. My Stories. Our Stories. Please forward all enquiries to seunodukoyaofficial@gmail.com.

Word_smith

Illusionist

Tobi Olowookere's blog

...that I may know Him

Untold Stories

'There Is No Greater Agony Than Bearing an Untold Story Inside You' ~ Maya Angelou

Pa Ikhide

Father, Fighter, Lover, Troublemaker

Nzesylva's Corner

A repository of my thoughts

Chris BAMIDELE

Scattered Thoughts, Opinions and African Stories.

soulcaste

...from Soul to Ink

OSCARPOEMS

Welcome to Oscarpoems blog, a combo of my musings and poetry

Deniz blog!

An imagined perfect place...

naijawriter

Read Laugh Love

tlsplace

A Beautiful Mind

%d bloggers like this: