On the Journey to Self-preservation👉 The First Calling

Today, i have found what has made me boyfriendless over the years. It itches me as walk, spreads through my body like wild fire in harmatan. It has made me become more cautious, careful and prude.


Prude is the word. I cannot look into the eyes of a man and feel at ease anymore. The heaving of my chest at the smell of masculinity lets something in me spark that i try feverishly to restrain. If i become one of those who faces stare in cold walls of dark castles; then, maybe my fight would not be in vain.
At 12, I remember running an errand for ma. She held out a note and thrust under my armpit, the already-finished customer’s cloth. I rushed off, as children were wont to do then and got to the house, few metres down the street. The young man who opened the gate, was to my eyes, an uncle as we were asked to call every older man, not old enough to be one’s father. Thus, when i saw him, i said,’Uncle, i am looking for Mrs. Eniade.’ He looked at me in a queer manner, one that gave me shivers and even as i pen this down, still does.
I was walked into the big parlour, gave the cloth to the gigantic woman slowly munching on some green apples and then, i turned my back to leave. I was almost at the gate when i hear a call from behind. Turning, it was the biggest mistake of my life as i hit my newly-grown breast-chest on the wall to which the gate was attached. ‘Kaii!’ I almost spat out. I checked myself quickly as the queer-faced young man moved towards me and i became composed. I was a lady, he was the man.
He came towards me, smiled winked and said,’ why don’t i walk you to your house?’

(“The second coming” is the next episode)



At a point we began to realise that life was not it seemed. Those who stretched their hands to help were doing it for ulterior reasons. I could share in the laughter of so many people, smile at jokes that would make me massage my aching cheeks and hug a long-seen friend when i didn’t actually mean it.
We became bored of relationships that were only in place because of one thing or the other; of future gains, networking and connections. We were stranded; unable to understand true friendship as life had become,’ Move with people who positively affect your life.’
That could be boring.
Sometimes, we just want to observe. We want to say ‘hi’ to that secondary school mate and leave without exchanging contact. We want to travel round the world without taking pictures and just immerse ourselves in the beautiful landscape without having to show the world proof that we were actually there.
We want to get married, have a baby and build houses without the world knowing.


This is because sometimes, we are not just interested in this world or how today affects tomorrow.
Sometimes, we just want to live our lives.

I want to take a picture without caring how it looks or whether it is instagram-worthy.

The Year of Great Beginings

429646_362122953798428_1442610155_n_jpg_oh=1ee2c01df35d1aab553eccbba0337d93_oe=54F02F53___gda__=1424656770_6cdc78efad4870a0c662f23a7a4952e1We know people make up new year resolutions at the end of each year, hoping to have accomplished most if not all by the end of the next year. Ironically, while some struggle to achieve the first three out of about 20 to-dos, the others remember not a word from wherever the list is.

i am one of them, well, at least i got more than half of my resolutions in 2014 achieved. But, the sad thing is, number one on my priority list was to finish the book i started writing in 2013. Well, i am stuck. So, i turn to myself, my inner self and ask what happened in 2014? Why did i get stuck while everyone was moving on?

Snapshot_20140712_2The answer is not far-fetched. i guess i refused to understand the way i work, and how my life functions when i make resolutions for myself. i remember not writing a resolution to start a book. i realise that i am more of a spontaneous person.

some of us are this way. that moment when we decide to make resolutions is when we deter from accomplishing them. so, if you are one of the live-as-it-comes people, then do so. I hope to continue with my book soon. And, by the way, i made no new year resolutions because it’s all gonna come as it was meant to.

Peace…Another story on the way. Just had to do this.

Mr. Johnson: Episode One

Mr. Johnson

Episode one

Mr. Johnson the school teacher left Madam Folorunsho, the paraga seller and walked towards the alley preceding the street he lived in. At the other end, he sighted Ajanaku and Ori ejo struggling for wraps of marijuana in a ‘poly bag’. They saw him and, fooled by the darkness, ran off, almost out of the alley until Johnson whistled a tune they were familiar with, did they turn and grin in the dark. A smile replaced their previous expression as Mr. Johnson strode towards them.

‘What are you doing here this late sir? ‘ Ajanaku asked, feigning ignorance as they shook hands.

‘ A little thing came underway. I had some student-teacher issue to discuss.’ Mr. Johnson replied. He was about to tell them of his escapade when the praises of the boys cut him off. The boys pretended to be oblivious of tired workers and school children struggling to sleep in the intense heat and ‘swarm’ of mosquitoes pervading their rooms. Rather, they shouted in the dark night. Mr. Johnson silenced them with a wave of his hand and asked, ‘I see you boys have been busy. Any luck?’ they shook their heads. ‘The bus gave us problems. So we had to spend…’ Mr. Johnson nodded quickly to show he understood.

The #5000 Naira they had placed in his hand as proceeds from routing Agege to Oshodi and finally to Bariga for at least 8 times was a lie. He would try to see if they had made more. So he asked cynically,’ you must have made more money right?’

‘Actually, we were thinking of something else.’ The reply came from behind; it was Ori ejo who had then placed a knife on Mr. Johnson’s back, ready to plunge it in. The recipient gasped silently and hurriedly placed the keys to the bus and the money into Ajanaku’s hand. Then, with a signal from Ajanaku, Ori thrust into the man’s back, the steel knife.

Another figure appeared from a corner not too far from where the deed had been done. His inquisitive and bloodshot eyes reflected the disastrous self he was made of. To Ori he said, ‘Leave him there . Just make sure you wash your hands. We don’t want blood on our hands do we?’

‘Of course not.’

‘The police will have something to keep them busy. Let us go.’ They had walked ten steps when he turned sharply and let out two silent shots from a previously unseen gun. Two thuds followed. He smiled then walked off. That was how three adults were killed on the night of October 31 without their consent. That was the beginning of terror and haunts on the alley and its environs. His mountains leveled, Omogori walked off with the keys to a bus and the sum of #15,000 Naira in his hand.

In the bus, he turned the ignition, nothing budged. Omogori cursed the dead men under his breath,’Irresponsible idiots!’. He tried once, twice and countless times until the bus wheezed, coughed and jerked before releasing a strenuous sound that probably meant,’I Do!’ then the driver steered off the side onto the street towards Agege. However, the bus swerved on its own accord, ramming its headlights into a parked lorry on the roadside. Omogori’s head hit the steering which out of prolonged use was battered. The force sent his head jamming into a gap between the steering wheel and dashboard.

No sound came from the battered bus. Only the occasional drop of blood trailing from the victim’s head down his body making a pool on the ground could be seen. In the dark night the man died. FaceGoo14-03-27 1727