Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. - Literature (8) - Nairaland
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| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Sugarbabekemi(f): 5:13pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Obidike jr.:oga obidike abeg, hanhan! abeg d tin neva reach lke dis now, jst statin my thoughts, it shldnt go 2 d extent of insults na  |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Obidikejr(m): 6:01pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Sugarbabe_kemi@: No I didn't insult you, look closely. I sounded stern yes but not insulting. Hope you're not offended? Ma'm. |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by skyp(m): 9:39pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
So what happen next? |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by majalisa(m): 11:22pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Obidike jr.:he had many options...he had a chance to study,he had a chance to run d legal busines of buying and distrubuting spare parts..he had both chances and options...ask him? 2 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 11:44pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Chapter 41: The Mistake again. I bent down for a while and when i got up, i looked straight at Joe and said: ”Did you bring them to beat me up or hear what i came to say”. Joe was angry that Clement slapped me. He had asked Clement to apologize which he refused to do. ”You think Ikenna has nobody in this Amsterdam, i am his senior brother. I will show you pepper in this Amsterdam. I went to the Prison to visit Ikenna. He said they have given him two years term in prison and would deport him after that. Do you know how much i spent to bring him up here?’ Clement was shouting. Since i was alone, i knew that it would be suicidal if i started to argue, therefore i just kept quiet. I would have come with Robin and Nduka but they had no documents. When Clement finished shouting, Oga Joe asked me to tell them what the lawyer said. ”I need some water to clean my face. I also need paracetamol. My head is hurting from the slap he just gave me” i said as i pointed at clement. ”You are not getting any paracetamol or water until you tell us what you called us here to tell us. Don’t waste my time because i am coming to slap you again” It was Clement again. At that moment, i wondered if Madam even saw my beeps. There were chances that she wasn’t with her phone. We had spent atleast 15 minutes in Joe’s house. The cops should have been there already. ”Well, i am not saying anything until i get the paracetamol” i said. My last statement angered Nando so much that he rose up and slapped me again, he also grabbed my shirt and tore the buttons. Oga Joe stood up and separated him from me. Everybody started shouting at the same time. Clement was barking like a dog on how he was going to make life miserable for me in Amsterdam. Fat Willie was being restricted from hitting me by Ezenwa. Oga Joe was standing between me and Nando. The entire apartment was filled with noise, exactly the way i wanted. ”I told you. This is just the beginning. By the time i fini….” Nando was saying. ”Towaa” the door just busted open. It was some Gorilla Police men with firearms. ”Everybody on the floor now” one of them shouted. I had started crying. Tears were running down my cheeks. They were fake tears which i had planned to use to buy more time since the police hadn’t come. All of us had fallen quickly to the ground except Willie who was kicked down by a Police. The police tied our hands behind our backs with a white rubber cuffs. They walked around the apartment searching for whatever they wanted. About ten minutes later, they marched all of us down to the police bus in front of the house. Some people had gathered across the road watching the incident. I bent down my face to avoid being caught with Cameras. We were driven to the Police station near Bulewijk metro station where we were questioned. We were asked to provide our documents. Oga Joe had Spanish resident permit, but he had no ticket indicating when he came to Amsterdam. His passport Was stamped a ‘no entry’ to Holland for four years. Clement had Dutch Resident permit. All the others had no papers whatsoever. I on my part gave them my Portuguese documents which contained a ticket that arrived to Amsterdam two days before with another ticket going back to Lisbon in three days time. I was asked what i came to do in Amsterdam. I told them that i came to smoke weed and look around Amsterdam’s red light district which i had heard so much about. I also told them that i had asked where i could meet with Nigerian people and were directed to Bijlmer where i met with these people. They had called me to their house and asked me to give them my money. I had refused and they had started beating me. I pointed at Nando and spoke in Igbo which he responded. He had just proven that he was a Nigerian. He was definitely going back to Nando. Wherever that town was located. After over three hours of interrogation, Clement and I were discharged to go. We were given our papers and phones and were told to leave the police station. Oga Joe was told that he would be driven to the train station where he would take a train to Spain and was also warned not to visit Holland again until after four years. He cried like a baby. As i walked outside the police gate with Clement, he said: ”So this was your plan. You gathered us together and called the police. You bought a ticket to Portugal when you are not going anywhere” ”You slapped me Clement. I don’t know you but you just escaped my net. If you don’t come to apologize for slapping me, the war between us will continue until i make sure that none of your Town member remains in Amsterdam. You understand i just packed all the people From Nando and sent them out of town. Your brother Ikenna stole my drugs, i didn’t see you. He impregnated my girl, i didn’t see you. I sent him to the police for those crimes and you showed up from nowhere. I am coming after you sooner than you know” i said. He suddenly stopped after hearing me out and started walking back to the Police station. I didn’t know what he was going back to do but i wasn’t going to wait and see. I quickly crossed the road and ran up to the Bulewijk metro station where i took a train to Duivendrecht, then another train to Krainest where I changed cloths. ”They said the Police took you away with some people. The news is every where in Gazenhoef” Robin said” he had already called my brother back home and told him that i was arrested. After eating and taking my bath, i showed up in Gazenhoef. I wanted everybody to know that newspaper guy wasn’t arrested. It was a rumour. Some people said they never even believed the news. Some said they saw us. I denied that it wasn’t me. The day after the incident, my phone rang. It was an unknown number which i didn’t register in my phone. When i answered the call, the voice was a little Familiar. It was Clement from Nando, he wanted us to meet again. Could that be a trap? ” Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment” 3 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 11:48pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Chapter 42: ”Meet for what” i asked. He said he wanted to apologize for slapping me. ”I don’t need your apologies again Mr Clement. I am going to the Police station to make a statement. I am going to tell them that you threatened to kill me in Amsterdam. I am also going to tell all the Enugu people here in Amsterdam. They will know that you are after me. If anything happens to me, they know what to do” i said and hung up. His subsequent calls were ignored. He sent a text message, telling me that he wasn’t coming after me. He wrote that he was willing to forget what happened. I called Billy, our Enugu Chairman and met with him in his house. I told him what happened between me and the people of Nando. He was surprised at the actions i took. He never knew i was capable of doing such a thing. The following Saturday after the incident, i went to the football field in Kikenstein. All eyes were fixed on me. I had covered my face with dark sunglasses and held ‘Angels and Demons’ an interesting novel by Dan Brown. I watched as people played football. Nobody came to where i stood. I believed they were scared of me or they conspired to isolate me. Whichever one it was, i didn’t care. I had a mind of my own which eclipsed every other thing that ever happened to me. If i wanted to buy drugs from anybody, i would simply give money to Robin or Nduka to do that. The only time their isolation could work would be if i needed to buy the drugs on credit or if i needed to take the drugs to a customer before paying for it. It was true that we had a large Igbo community in Bijlmer but i was certain that i could cause a lot of problems for everybody. I didn’t need to be angered by anybody. Our people hated the truth, it hurts them. Ikenna stole my money and some stuff belonging to the Colombians, nobody did anything. To them, it was just one of those petty crimes. He impregnated a woman who lived with me, nobody did anything. The Nando squad were nowhere to be found. Nobody came forward to ask about the pregnancy. They saw me walking around town with a pregnant woman and all they did was to gossip about how it wasn’t mine and how i was servicing someone else’s pregnancy. According to the news i heard, the Nandos believed that they will come and claimed their son when he grew to a certain age. According to them, it was an Igbo culture that a son must go to the biological father later on in Life. The problem of black man lied with him. What exactly was the big deal in climbing a woman and getting her pregnant? Was that the real work in having a baby? No, that wasn’t the real work in having a baby. Anybody could think otherwise but i personally think that the real work wasn’t climbing a woman and enjoying yourself on the process. Pregnancy required maximum attention. I recalled what happened between me and Ify during the course of her pregnancy. She would suddenly get up in the middle of the night and start clutching her stomach. I would stay awake and Tease or console her. I would remind her that since it was her first pregnancy, those symptoms were bound to happen. Sometimes, she would wake up and cry over the sudden movements of the baby in the stomach. Sometimes she would send me out in the night to buy one thing or the other. I recalled the day i went out a little past midnight looking for milk. I eventually end up buying it in a petrol station where i also had to trek for over thirty minutes in the cold. I was controlled that night by the police. I remembered taking her to the hospital in the middle of the night the day she complained about not being able to breath properly. We eventually spent two days in the hospital and paid through my nose since we had no health insurance. I would prepare food for Ify, wash and spread her cloths too. Sometimes, Ify would ask me to cut her nails and even showed me how to paint them. I would clean the house and wash the dishes. I would rub her stomach and pamper her to sleep. She was just like a baby. I did all those things while hustling for money to pay for the rents of two apartments. I also had to deal with numerous requests of money from friends at home. All those times, i never confronted one person from Nando. I didn’t know them. They never stopped me on the road. All they knew was that their pregnancy was in my custody and care. They had hoped to come up someday and ask for how much money i spent on the pregnancy, then they would pay me off and take their illustrious son Samson. There were things we can’t just buy with money, the troubles i had while nurturing Ify’s pregnancy was one of them. Ikenna made the biggest mistake of his life by coming to my house after the birth of Samson. He paid with Prison and deportation. His Kinsmen made the same mistake of stopping me on the road and issuing a one week ultimatum. They paid en masse too. If the Igbo community thought it wise to isolate me without hearing my own side of the story, then i regard them as cowards. I wasn’t interested in confronting any individual who did nothing to me. What i hated most was physical assault like slaps. I believed that an individual was also a nation of its own. We set our own rules and laws which guide us. I had made my own laws long time before Amsterdam. Law Number one was; If you kill my dog, you better hide your cat. It was such a simple law. Number two was; Don’t ever slap me, it represented insult to me. You can kick me or push me but don’t slap me. Turning the other cheek was part of Jesus’ laws in the Bible. It was one of those laws i disagreed with Jesus on. There were other laws which you disagreed on too. Turning the other cheek wasn’t part of Ozoigbondu’s laws. I had mine. Mine was made out of the current circumstances. The world had changed a lot since the Bible was written. Bring it on Nandos and the entire haters of Jungle justice. I wrote my own rules. Obey them. Kwakoe was some hours away from the time i was at the field watching football. 2 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 11:50pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Chapter 43: Kwakoe. Kwakoe was a multicultural festival of the ethnic minorities from Africa, The Caribbean and the old Dutch colonies of Surinames and Antilles. It started in 1975. Kwakoe usually started in Summer month of Late July or Early August. The activities in Kwakoe included Cultural Musics, food, football and Dance. It was at the Kwakoe that i met hundreds of Nigerians that i never saw in Amsterdam. It turned out that there were people who never ventured outside for the fear of being deported. They would stay inside the house and call for drugs which would be brought to them. The set up at Kwakoe was usually for groups who paid up the amount asked for by the government. The Nigeria alone usually mounted many tents. Enugu state, Anambra, Yoruba and many more groups had their own tents. Foods and drinks were sold. Musics blasted from each tent while people danced. Football teams from Ghana, Nigeria, Suriname, Antillean and many more countries competed. On that Saturday after watching football in kikenstein field, i went home and prepared for Kwakoe. Kwakoe usually kicked of around 4pm on Weekends. It was a 6 weeks programme. I had found a plastic seat and sat behind the Enugu state stand. I was drinking a bottle of red wine with Pius Ikedia, a Nigerian footballer. The Ogene music was blaring from the speakers. It had attracted many people to the Enugu stand. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and when i looked back, it was a man of about 40. ”Are you The guy that writes the jokes” he asked. ”What if i am” i asked too trying to find out why he asked before commiting. ”Someone wants to see you” he said. ”Tell the person to come here, i am with people” i said. ”She is with people too. She said she is from Italy and has come for the festival” he said. A quick thinking reminded me that i didn’t invite anybody from Italy. The only lady i knew in Italy was Maria but since i changed my phone number, i haven’t talked to her. Since it was a lady, i excused myself from Ikedia and followed the man to the Yoruba stand. It was Maria. The African Bulletin Newspaper were being distributed in Kwakoe. Maria had gotten one and had seen my picture below my column. She had asked people if they knew me and someone had suggested that they go and check me in Enugu state stand. ”Surprise Surprise” Maria shouted as she got up and jumped on me. The guy sitting with him had changed his face from suspicion to anger; i didn’t care. I believed instantly that it was him who invited Maria to Kwakoe. People usually invited their friends and relatives to the festival. Peharps i would have invited people as well especially Audrey from France but the circumstances surrounding me wasn’t conducive for pleasure. Ify and Samson depended on me, not just financially but they also needed my presence which i believe gave them so much strength and hope. I recalled that before i embarked on ”operation Nando”, i had given some €2000 to Robin and told Him that it belonged to Ify and Samson. He had tried to find out why i had to give it to him to keep but i only gave him the excuse that i would spend it if i keep it myself. ”When did you come here Maria” i asked. She said she arrived from Napoli with Easy Jet the night before. She introduced her friend to me as Bola. Those Yoruba people never use other names except their tribal names, which was very good in my opinion. As i shook Bola’s hand, he said he knew me. It was from the African Bulletin Newspapers ofcourse. ”I am with some friends over there at the back, you can come there whenever you want” i said to Maria. She asked me to give her my phone number. She gave me a strange sign after taking the number. I didn’t know what it meant but i know that it must be related to the man sitting with her. Whatever it was, i would find out later. I walked back to the Enugu stand and joined Ikedia with some other guys. We continued our drink. News about what happened between me and the Nandos were being spread like wildfire. People were doubting the authenticity. Some said that i wasn’t capable of such thing since they never saw me quarreling with anybody. Some said that since i had the mind to write for a newspaper without Holland resident permit, i could as well do anything. Nobody was brave enough to approach me at kwakoe and ask about it. Everyone just peeped at me every now and then. I believed their usual Isolation would follow but i didn’t care. If things got difficult for me in Holland, i could easily move to another country. Secondly i could easily survive in Amsterdam, all that was required was just to calm down and plan something. At about 8pm, Maria called me. She asked where i was and said she wanted to come there. ”How about your boyfriend” i asked? ”He is not my boyfriend” she said. She went on to tell me that she was in Bijlmer for business. Since it was weekend, i told her where to find me. She took a Snoder and came to my place in Kikenstein. ”Why did you change your number and refused to send the new one to me” Maria asked as soon as she settled down in my sitting room. ”I got involved with a pregnant girl and i had to concentrate on her” i said. She asked if i was responsible for the pregnancy. ”It is a long story” i said. I explained everything that happened with Ify and Ikenna. She almost pitied me when i finished. ”I want to see them” she said. We had planned to go to the Sinners Nightclub in Amsterdam central, therefore, we took a cab first to Bulewijk. Samson was still awake when we arrived. I had introduced Maria to Ify. They greeted and talked while i carried the baby. Ify was definitely jealous and scared because when we were ready to go out to the club, she called me back into the room and complained. She said she wasn’t comfortable seeing me with the girl. ”You don’t have to worry, if i intended to sleep with her, you won’t see her here” i said. I didn’t mean what i said. 2 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 11:59pm On Nov 28, 2013 |
Chapter 44. Maria and I took a cab and went to Sinners Nightclub. It was situated in the middle of the city. It was mostly attended by white people which was the new style of life i had started. The black community believed that i was strange because i acted first against the Nandos. There was one problem with we blacks. We were never prudent. We, in this case, meant majority of blacks. Someone had threatened to chase me out of Amsterdam. I didn’t know if he meant it or not but i wasn’t interested in finding out. What i did was the best i could do in that circumstances. He may not have meant it but how was i supposed to know. I wasn’t ready to leave Amsterdam, therefore, anybody who said he would chase me out should go first. As a soldier, we were not required to talk about what we would do, we were required to act first and talk about it later. In Amsterdam, i found myself in a society where all the blacks cared about was their own pockets. They could buy you beer worth of €20 but they can’t give you €10. As a matter of fact, most of the black people in Amsterdam already believed that it was the norm. There was a day Dozie called me in his sitting room. He made me sit down and told me that people don’t keep people in their houses in Amsterdam. I had barely spent a week in his house. I guessed he reminded me of that so that i would know that he was my god for allowing me to stay in his house. That was also part of our people’s mindset. I came to Amsterdam hoping to meet a large organized group of blackmen that can unite and move up together. Rather, i found a divided units that feared and suspected each other. The Enugu people were on their own, the Anambra, Delta, Edo were also on their own. It was only the Yoruba people that looked a little bit united. Inside the Anambra, they also divided themselves into units. The Nanka people were the largest in Numbers, they had their own clandestine organisation. So was the Onitsha, the Nnewi and the Obosi people. The other towns were not big enough to hold their own meetings, therefore, they just scattered all over the place like sheeps without a shepherd. The Enugu people had one organisation but the unity ended there in the meeting. Anything outside that and you were on your own. One of the richest among us was a Man from Ituku in the same local government with my town. That was supposed to be a blessing for me. I had approached this man more than twice, to give me small connection or even put small thing for me so that i could Make small money, he gave me one silly excuse after another. At the end of the day, he would drive me to KFC or McDonald and buy me burger and chicken as if i was in Amsterdam for food or fun. There were numerous others who behaved that way. Each time they needed to do something on the internet or to fix their computer, they would call Milla. I was not really angry with them but they should have been angry with themselves. All the girls were beautiful but non was brilliant. At a time, i began to think that such hustlings like the ones obtained in Bijlmer, were meant for non brilliant people. If not so, i wouldn’t have been seeing them the way i did; or peharps i was the person who got it all wrong. I didn’t develop my academic capabilities. I should have opted to continue my studies right after my secondary school but somehow, i had gotten involved with trading business. Surprisingly, i had always felt that i was grossly different from my business partners. For instance, when i joined the used spare parts business in Onitsha Nigeria, i had always went to the market with one book or the other. I would do some businesses in the morning and start reading one novel or the other. During that period, i had gone through so many books from James Hardly Chase to Sydney Sheldon. I had also read many hints and hearts romance magazines. My friends and business partners had always insulted me over the issue of the books; some said that i wasn’t serious with my business, some said i was useless, some said i should have not joined the business while some stopped dealing with me as a result of what they termed ”my non commitment with the business’. Most of them believed they were better than me in everything. The reality was that i loved reading. It was a hobby. I was a brilliant guy who went through the entire primary and secondary school systems with first positions in the classes. Yes, nobody ever toppled me in any class. I had this special memory that enabled me to remember everything that passed through my mind. I knew every story in the Bible before i entered secondary school. I read many literature books including Animal Farm, The Concubine, African Child, Things fall apart etc, right before i entered secondary school. I started reading things from my elementary one. There was a time people believed that it was my parents who had always influenced my results by telling the teachers to give me the first positions, but the truth was that i was a special brilliant kid. I would have continued studying but i had grown in a small rural village where anything hardly got out. There was a time i used to be angered by how dumb people were but at a stage, i began to understand that it wasn’t even my doing that i was brilliant. Yes, it wasn’t my doing. It just occurred. A lot of coincidence determined what we would ever become. We lived in a society where good people died young while bad people lived long. The blame was not entirely on my people. But i foolishly blamed some of them because they should have acknowledged the fact that some people were different from them. But according to them, the only thing that mattered was money. Just make the money and the most brilliant people would fall on their knees in front of them. Nobody was a god to me. We were all humans. Steal from me and i will find you. And when i find you, you better give me a good reason. If you dont, then i will. 2 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 12:02am On Nov 29, 2013 |
Our data expires today. Like i said last month, i will no longer sponsor the updates with my own money since i put in the time to write. The message from MTN was that our updating phone will no longer be able to browse the internet as soon as it clocks 6pm today. It won’t stop me from writing but it will stop you from reading. Some readers did great by sending MTN recharge cards to purchase data plan last month. Global Runs expect to also receive recharge cards for new Data purchase today. The MTN phone number is 08162894984. Thanks in advance. For those who promised to do Christmas for me, just get me a good whisky. I can take care of every other thing. - Ozoigbondu 1 of Berlin. 1 Like |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 6:23pm On Nov 29, 2013 |
. 5 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 6:27pm On Nov 29, 2013 |
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| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by skyp(m): 8:05pm On Nov 29, 2013 |
[quote author=ZUBY77]Our data expires today. Like i said last month, i will no longer sponsor the updates with my own money since i put in the time to write. The message from MTN was that our updating phone will no longer be able to browse the internet as soon as it clocks 6pm today. It won’t stop me from writing but it will stop you from reading. Some readers did great by sending MTN recharge cards to purchase data plan last month. Global Runs expect to also receive recharge cards for new Data purchase today. The MTN phone number is 08162894984. Thanks in advance. For those who promised to do Christmas for me, just get me a good whisky. I can take care of every other thing. - Ozoigbondu Berlin.[/quojtwwhe] where are u at the moment naija or abroad and what is your present condition? |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 9:20pm On Nov 29, 2013 |
I m in Nigeria. I m fine. I hope you are. |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Bulcqlay(m): 10:46pm On Nov 29, 2013 |
What a wonderful story indeed. |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by majalisa(m): 12:50am On Nov 30, 2013 |
Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen: please before anyone starts to judge me here,am not a critic,am a very big fan of this page,but i just stumbled on the thougth and i felt i had t warn fellow nigerians...dont part wit your money for any reasons...be smart...we go all make am for this naijaI get ur drift sir...but wasn't dat too blunt and impulsive? |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ibrahim55(m): 4:18am On Nov 30, 2013 |
Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen: |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Emilo(m): 10:58am On Nov 30, 2013 |
If d guy says send recharge card n u ve, why nt, afterall we ve been enjoying d write up. He spends time coming up wit this....n u know "time is money", moreover he has told u he can take care of other stuffs. Now back to zuby77, if dis story is true, then it shows u re nt as wise as u think u re.....what were ur long term plan with Ify n Samson, to marry her n change d boy's DNA or what? Ow hopeless......u seem to have forgotten what u came to Europe to do. Now u v d entire community against u, no sooner, u would end up losing a limb or two, n dats what exactly i would do if i were Ikenna. Two years in jail is but a short time. U explained d stress during Ify pregnacy period......"Abeg who send u message, u feel like u get moni na"....if i were u i would ve received Ikenna, call a meeting n present all d money i ve spent (that is multipled by 3), collect it n send Ify away to her baby's father. But no, d puss.y won't allow u think properly....Do u think Ikenna raped Ify to get her pregnant?, no, he didn't, she opened her legs, do u think Ikenna disappeared 4 no reason?, no he didn't, he did so cos he had no moni. My guy u don jones, ur likes are those who think they re smart, but by d time dey get to age fifty, they realise they ve nothing to show. I just hope am wrong sha.......wish u well... Nevertheless, wonderful story 4 all to learn dat real life is different from novel life, i.e fictions. So peeps should stop acting James Hardley Chase in real world........lol 6 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by sextail(m): 12:10pm On Nov 30, 2013 |
This is really a nice piece of work, I really enjoy this fron the beginning right to the latest end. A big thumb for you because I know you are going places. I will like to call your attention to something that I think is not right. Yes! It's my opinion. Talking about people loading for internet connection for you, I first thought it is a voluntary donation, as it shows on the blog but being adamant about it, is what I think it's not right. Have not seen blogs from lindaikeji even umari ayim (www.umariayim.com) do that, and she is a prolific writer like you also. Pls do find in your marvelous time to think about my own opinion also and above all I trust you judgement. Thanks once again and nice job. 1 Like |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Nobody: 10:32pm On Nov 30, 2013 |
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| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by sigba(f): 11:46am On Dec 02, 2013 |
Hi Zubby! Just stumbled on this thread, i went to the blog to register but couldnt find any link for registration. Has the registration ended? 1 Like |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 12:44pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
sigba: Hi Zubby! Just stumbled on this thread, i went to the blog to register but couldnt find any link for registration. Has the registration ended? We are working on it |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by sambrozini: 2:05pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
I talk am b4, this guy na really criminal, so all the drug money never du you, na my chicken Change go du you, Bros honestly speaking, you deserves to be banned from NL, abi which kind rubbish be this, so because seun is making money from NL, you also want to try your own stunt abi, I just pity anybody that will send his hard earned to you, if care aren't taking, these dude will start collecting money from innocent nairalanders in the pretense of getting visa for them or something like that ..........nwanne sorry to disappoint you, cox your plans won't work, look for another means to dupe people....... MY2CENT. |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 5:04pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
ibrahim55: [/quote][quote author=sambrozini]I talk am b4, this guy na really criminal, so all the drug money never du you, na my chicken Change go du you, Bros honestly speaking, you deserves to be banned from NL, abi which kind rubbish be this, so because seun is making money from NL, you also want to try your own stunt abi, I just pity anybody that will send his hard earned to you, if care aren't taking, these dude will start collecting money from innocent nairalanders in the pretense of getting visa for them or something like that ..........nwanne sorry to disappoint you, cox your plans won't work, look for another means to dupe people....... sambrozini: I talk am b4, this guy na really criminal, so all the drug money never du you, na my chicken Change go du you, Bros honestly speaking, you deserves to be banned from NL, abi which kind rubbish be this, so because seun is making money from NL, you also want to try your own stunt abi, I just pity anybody that will send his hard earned to you, if care aren't taking, these dude will start collecting money from innocent nairalanders in the pretense of getting visa for them or something like that ..........nwanne sorry to disappoint you, cox your plans won't work, look for another means to dupe people....... please oh i didnt say he is a scammer...i was just saying in case...i stumbled on some of his previous posts and found out that his story has some elements of truth...at least his pictures stand as alibi for him...am starting to belive now. www.nairaland.com/1269303/nairalander-poses-tuface-ifeanyi-udeze/2 thats a link to a page containing pictures of ozoigbondu 1 of berlin...my guy |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 5:14pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
@ZUBBY my only qustion from your pictures on the post is that picture with One Bishop Bernie something at a concert in Amsterdam, the Neds if you look a little to the left of the bishop head,on a table behind you guys,i think i spotted a bottle of fanta and likely a bottle of small stout beside it... shey dem dey sell fanta for amsterdam...how much abeg...i like fanta pieces...na wetin i wan dey drink be dat |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by majalisa(m): 7:57pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen: @ZUBBY my only qustion from your pictures on the post is that picture with One Bishop Bernie something at a concert in Amsterdam,someone is indirectly apologizing |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 8:30pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
This Chapter is dedicated to little Master David Chibuikem Nwabuisi who is celebrating the second anniversary of his dedication today. My shout out also goes to Miss Cute Bliss who celebrates her Birthday today. Chapter 45: Friend of fishes. As i walked out of the waters of the Gasperdam, i was soaked from hair to toe. I had floated and swam slowly up about 100 meters to where some Dutch people were having a small beach party. A small shrub had separated the Dutch people from me, they didn’t see what happened. Someone had pushed me into the Dam. I had gone to the Dam to sit and think. It had become a a continuous habit for me since i decided to avoid the general meeting points of the Igbo people. That evening at around 7pm, the sun was still in the sky. I had quietly walked down to a point on the bank of the dam where i usually sat and looked down the waters. I didn’t hear the footsteps since i was playing a song with my earphone which i had also connected to my mobile phone. They were two of them. One had pushed me strongly from my back and i had fallen down into the waters. They had started running away before i could see their faces. But i was able to see the jacket of one of them. ‘Harley Davidson’ was boldly written at the back of the jacket, a large strange motorcycle was also drawn at the back of the jacket. Those where the only things i could see before they disappeared. Since i couldn’t come out of the waters from the point where i was pushed down, i had swam slowly up to the point where the Dutch young people were having fun. That was the only point where i could come out from the waters. They had stopped their party for some moments and looked at me strangely. It was a strange moment for all of us. The waters were very cold. I had emerged from the water, smiled at the partying group and walked up back to the point where i had been pushed into the water. My phone had fallen into the water and so was the earphone. A quick look around turned up a small Nokia phone which belonged to one of the people who pushed me down. It must have fallen out while they where running back. I picked up the phone and started walking back to the bus station where i was to take a bus back to my place. They were not so many people inside the bus when it arrived. The driver had looked at me strangely and asked what happened. I told him that i mistakenly fell into the water. I got to my house and changed clothes, then i started going through the phone i picked up beside the lake. Sure enough, the phone belonged to a Nigerian, it belonged to an Igbo man. Among the names listed on it were Igbo names; Ugochukwu, Ifeanyi, Nnamdi, Adaeze, My Baby, My Mother etc. I opened up ”My Mother” and checked it, it was a Nigerian phone number that started with +234, i dialed it. ”Chukwuemeka my son, how are you” The woman said in Igbo. I hung the call and dialed ”My Baby’. ”Emmy good evening” a female voice said. I hung it again and put the phone off. After some quick thoughts, i went outside and drove to Bulewijk. Ify was eating when i came. I joined her and we ate together. After the food, i told Ify what happened at the Lake. She started crying before i Finished my story but when she calmed down, i told her what i wanted her to do. ”I am going to switch on the phone again now. Someone will definitely call the number. I want you to put the phone on speakout. I will be telling you what to tell whoever the caller will be” i said as i switched on the phone. As expected, a call came instantly. It was from ‘My Baby’. ”Hello” Ify had said. ”Who is this” the caller said on realising that it was a female voice. ”I picked up this phone along the road and i don’t know the owner. Please if you know the owner, tell him or her to call the line so that i can return it” Ify said. After a few hesitation, The caller excused herself and stopped the call. We waited. When the second call came, it was from a number which was not registered on the phone. It was a male voice, probably from the coward who had pushed me into the Lake. ”Hello” Ify said. ”Who are you, this phone belongs to me” the arrogant coward said. ”Uhm, i picked this phone along the road in Gein and i don’t know who the owner is. I want to……” Ify was saying as i motioned her not to talk too much. He asked where Ify was and she told him that she lived in Bijlmer but had gone to Weesp for an errand. ”I will return to Bijlmer later and give you the phone” Ify had said and hung up. ”Good Job” i said to Ify and took the phone from her. I would have checked my phone to see if i had any number in common with the coward who pushed me to the water but unfortunately, my phone had fallen into the water which i didn’t know how deep it was. I was lucky because i could swim. I learnt to swim back in the village when i was a kid. It had saved me from drowning which i believed was the original motive of the cowards. Peharps they even came to shoot me but saw an opportunity not to attract attention with a gunshot since some Dutch people were having a party up the bank of the Lake. Swimming up to the Dutch people’s point was one of the most difficult tasks i had taken on. I was swimming against the current. I was lucky because the movement of the water was very slow. It would have been difficult if it was a river. I had managed to maneuver my way up to the point where i exited the lake. Although it was cold but my anger had shielded me from feeling anything. I was just numb from the effects. The reason why i even walked back to the point where i was attacked was to check if my phone had fallen before i was pushed down. It could have been obvious to me that i was pushed into the water with everything on me but i was confused. The Photocopy of my Portuguese resident permit which i carried around each time i was around Bijlmer had soaked. It could have easily been my International passport and the original resident permit. My wallet and its contents had been soaked as well. The cowards had done their part. It was my turn to track them down. I was sure that i will track them down. I already had a linking phone number from Nigeria. “IT is ridiculous and strange to be surprised at anything which happens in life” 2 Likes |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by majalisa(m): 11:55pm On Dec 02, 2013 |
λλλ u had it coming bro |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 7:05am On Dec 03, 2013 |
av been reading the part on and its confusing me,because i have to read the part two along...buh your story is da bomb...humans naturally love a bit of adventure and risk in their lives,buh our upbringing would never give us enough courage to leave our comfort zone...imagine a life where it is just to wake up,drive,work,eat and sleep daily...its simply boring to me...i love the thought of being on the run,and using my brains. reading your story is a good way to do it,without actually doing it...you have so far been one lucky #sonofabitch... am loving eveery bit of this 1 Like |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by uboma(m): 10:08am On Dec 03, 2013 |
^^^ there is no need for the insult. If you can't comment without insulting the op, pls just read and pass. |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen(m): 11:07am On Dec 03, 2013 |
uboma: ^^^ there is no need for the insult. If you can't comment without insulting the op, pls just read and pass. it wasn't an insult,it was a kind of greeting...like saying he is a sharp guy...i dont insult people,talk less of people i dont know personally. am feeling the guy massively. i just got to the part where he outsmarted jose and his friends who thought they were smarter than him...i was forced to coe back here and give him a big UP...he deserves it |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by weazley(m): 3:48pm On Dec 03, 2013 |
Ayokunleayoolashakirudeen:Yea, thats under "there and back on time". And that was how he met jennifer. BTW, ozoigbondu I saw jeny's pix on that ur picture frenzy thread, dat babe make sense oh, u F. up sha... #Justsayin |
| Re: Life On The Run: Season 5. Life In Amsterdam. by ZUBY77(m): 4:32pm On Dec 03, 2013 |
Chapter 46: The game is on. I left Bulewijk and went back to Krainest where most of my things were. When i got to Krainest, i found an old simcard where i had stored all my phone contacts. It was already night which meant that i couldn’t get a new phone immediately, therefore i switched off the phone i picked at the lake and slept. As soon as it was 8am, the following morning, i took a cab to Amsterdamse Poort and bought a new Samsung Phone, inserted the old simcard and copied all the contacts from it to the phone memory. I bought a new Lebara simcard and sent the number to a few people. Then i called Patricia. Patricia was a Calabar lady i met a few months before at the snooker house near the redlight district in Amsterdam Central. Patricia was also a stubborn lady who smoked Weeds. When Pat came to my place, i told her what happened to me the day before. She was angry after hearing my story. The job i wanted Pat to do was what Ify could have easily done but i didn’t want to involve the young mother in what i was planning. I felt that i could get one or two moves wrong which could result in implicating Ify. ”This is what we are going to do Pat. I am going to put the phone on again. If he calls, tell him to meet you at the Kempring building by 8pm. If he asks why you put the phone off, tell him that his battery died” i said to Pat as i switched the phone back on. The coward called again. As expected, he wanted to know why his phone was switched off. Pat told him to come to the Kempering and pick his phone in the evening, he agreed. Ricardo was a Suriname guy who owned a small warehouse at the back of Kempering. The area where the warehouse was located, was an isolated place which was built mostly as private car parks. The warehouse was a concrete enclave which had one metal door. Ricardo used the place to store used items such as fridges, TVs and other second-hand items which people bought from him and ship to Africa. I had met Ricardo when i bought a bus and needed to load it up with used items before sending it to Africa. We had managed to become close. After the call from the coward who pushed me into the water, i called Ricardo. He said he was at the warehouse. I drove there and met him. When i settled down, i told him everything that happened to me and the things i wanted done. He said that he will call his cousin to help us carry out my plans. His cousin’s name was Dennis. Abou was a Pakistani Snoda driver whom i used each time i moved drugs around Bijlmer. He was a good guy who knew what i did but never sold me out. He made good money from me too because each time i moved drugs with him, i would pay him more than triple of the journey’s worth. When i left Ricardo, i called Abou. He met me at the front of the Kempering building. Inside his Mercedes C Class car, i told him everything that happened. He was very disappointed that the Nigerians had started behaving like the Surinames. After Assembling my small army, i went Home and rested. It was going to be a long night. At about 6:30 pm, The coward called his phone again. When Pat answered, he reminded her that he was coming to Kempering to pick up his phone. Pat had remained in my apartment ever since i first called her that morning. She was a girl who loved weeds and alcohol. Due to the operation which i wanted her to play a role in, i had bought her a large quantity of Marijuana and whisky to wash it down. She had relaxed in my room since that morning and smoked. Robin had asked me who she was and if she could be trusted to stay in the apartment in our absence. I had told Robin that she was a good girl who wouldn’t attempt to steal anything from us. The truth however was that i didn’t know Pat that much. At about 7pm, i called Ricardo and told him to stay at the entrance of the garage where his warehouse was located. I also reminded him to tell Dennis to be at the Kempering Bus Station at exactly 8pm; that was where i intended to drag the coward to pick up his missing cheap Nokia phone. Then i called Abou to come to my house. Abou Arrived some minutes before 8pm. After reminding him that he came late, i told him that he would be driving Pat to the bus station where she will hand over the phone to the coward who pushed me. When i made sure that everybody knew what to do, i took another snoda and went to the front of the Kempering house. I was on a black overall Jeans and a black face cap. It was already dark and difficult for anyone who didn’t previously know me to be able to know that it was me. I walked behind the building and went up to the warehouse where Ricardo was sitting. He was there. We sat inside the warehouse and talked until around 8:12pm, when we heard an approaching vehicle. We had kept quiet and waited until the vehicle stopped five meters from the warehouse. It was clearly Abou’s Mercedes. Pat was the first to Jump out, followed by a strange figure who was blindfolded, then another strange face with a gun in his hand. The man with the gun, presumably Dennis, dragged the blindfolded man up and into the warehouse. I motioned Abou to leave the place with Pat and say nothing to anybody. Inside the warehouse, we pushed the blindfolded man down to an old chair and removed the piece of black cloth that covered his face. ”Emeka, Nwannaa do you remember me”? I asked. He looked up at my face and got startled. ”Sit down before i tell this man to shoot you” i said. He slumped back on the chair immediately. ”I am going to start asking you some questions. Each time you lie, i will inflict one pain on you, do you understand”? I said. He kept quiet and nodded. A small light bulb hung above our heads. We had closed the warehouse metal door and caged ourselves inside. Luckily for us, Ricardo had a small standing fan which we plugged on the wall to ventilate the place. ”Do you know me”? I asked. ”Yes, i see you on the newspaper” he said. I hit his toe with a large metal rod. ” It’s always better to attack than to defend” 1 Like 1 Share |
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