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I thought to share this with you. Call it giving back to Nairaland after taking so much.

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Episode 1: Two Sons






Collins drew the maroon window blinds apart and peered through the transparent glass. He was of average height and a slim, athletic build. A sigh escaped him. The world outside was pitch black as though some god had emptied a limitless container of dark shoe polish over it. A tall blonde Dutch stewardess in a tight blue uniform that accentuated her curves strutted pass. She distracted Collins for a moment. He wondered how it would feel making love to her. He had always desired to bed a lady from Netherlands. It didn’t happen during his stay in the United Kingdom even though he had schooled and gathered work experience from places with an enormous amount of international identities. He sighed again before attention returned to the world outside the plane. Now he could sight scattered speckles of dim lights that ran the runway. Other than that everywhere was still pitch black.
‘Fucking electricity! And you call this a national airport?’ he mumbled wryly. Nevertheless, he was happy. Reuniting with his family after four long years in England lifted his spirits. The delightful career prospects of a returnee with a Master’s degree in Human Resources and two years of international work experience fueled him with positive adrenaline. Hello Nigeria, he thought, swelling internally with pride. Meet Collins Ibukunola.

***
‘I reckon he would be taller than you now,’ Mrs. Clara Ibukunola said looking over her shoulder at her dark-skinned son. In her early fifties, she still looked lovely. Her fair skin contrasted the blue satin lace that clad her physique. ‘Milk, Chicken, Ijekuje, hmm…. all that protein previously at his disposal. Certainly, he will be taller than you. Don’t you agree?’ Her delight was so palpable you could touch it.
Jaiyeola’s concentration was on the activity on his smart phone and did not look up when he responded in a stoic voice: ‘I don’t think there is a research out there that shows that high protein consumption translates to height.’
‘Yes there is. My research,’ she responded.
Jaiyeola’s head shook at his mother’s words. ‘And where is your proof, mum?’
‘You’ll find out in the next…hmm’ Her forehead creased in worry as she gazed at the traffic. ‘…as soon as we escape this traffic.’ She turned to the bald, thickset man behind the wheel. He was just as dark-skinned as Jaiye. Their personalities were freakishly similar too. ‘Johnny, how long will it take us to be rid of this traffic?’
‘Another twenty minutes, give or take.’ her husband said, calmly. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing strands of curly muscles.
‘Is there another route we can take?’ She asked her husband.
‘Silly woman,’ Mr. Johnson Ibukunola grinned. ‘Even if one existed, how are we supposed turn back? You are aware that only one road leads to the airport from here.’
‘Well it takes a silly man to know a silly woman,’ she poked her husband on the ribs.
‘I’m driving, woman.’
‘Sorry love,’ she apologized. ‘I’m sure the refurbishment of the airport is responsible for this mess. By the newspaper, it’s being over six month. Chai! This Nigeria sha.’ She closed her eyes in prayer. ‘Father my son shouldn’t be kept waiting at the airport. Not after the long trip he has endured. Use your divine help to clear this hold-up immediately….’
Jaiyeola could not hold back a silent chuckle at the irrational prayer his mother was uttering. How was God supposed to clear this traffic? In truth, his attention was divided. In fact only a meager amount was dedicated to tweeting on his twitter account. His was a jumble of emotions at the return of Collins, the eldest son in the Ibukunola family. There was excitement and joy. He had missed him dearly and was thrilled to have him back. There was so much to catch up on. He was certain he would bring along some janded stuff, perishable and durable alike. Collins was good like that. And Jaiyeola couldn’t wait to see the professional camera Collins had promised. It was an indispensable aspect of the dance-related project he planned on executing.
But on the other hand, Collins’ arrival meant comparison. This was less thrilling. It had always been constant comparison since they had been kids, up on till Collins left the country for his master’s degree. Mrs. Ibukunola would say: “Read your books, Jaiye. Why can’t you be like your elder brother?” Her husband would say: “You are so recalcitrant. You should be more like Collins.” He knew most of the altercations and fists shared with his elder sibling were rooted in this. Jaiyeola sighed. Now prim, patient, and proper Collins would be home soon. He dreaded the possibility that his parents would recommence their comparison. Parents could be so annoying, especially his. And as it stands, he may have just given his folks a reason for endless comparison, to say the least. He had just found out that Tomi, his girlfriend had missed her period by a week. She would be getting a pee-stick tomorrow morning. Jaiyeola’s nails tingled as they usually did when he was anxiety-ridden. No constant employment. He was living with his parents. And he may soon be a baby daddy. Bleep, he thought. His finger tapped on the update status field on his smartphone and typed: ‘Is he going to be taller than me?’



Unfamiliar slangs And Their Meanings


Chai! - A Nigerian slang used to denote surprise
Ijekuje - A word from the Yoruba tribe used to denote junk food

Sha - A Nigerian slang that could be used in various contexts but doesn't necessarily mean anything

Janded - An adjective used to depict anything from across the shores of Nigeria.


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Episode 2 – The Other Sons








Tree leaves rustled in the cool breeze. A dog howled from a barely audible distance. Students’ mumblings traded among connecting parties. The environ that led to Brick Dormitory of Queensland University, Ogun State was ripe with Saturday’s moonlit activity. It was about two hours before curfew. For undergraduates, these were hours of leisure and pleasure, hours that were thoroughly exploited. They were moving here and going there, causing the intermittent sounding of flapping flip-flops to fill the air. Some held hands. Some flew solo. Others fronted to preserve a certain identity. And others made out under inconspicuous trees scattered around, expelling giggles, grunts and moans. Wisps of tobacco and weed wafted from secluded spots, permeating olfactory senses with their trademark scents. For a university run by one of the largest churches in Nigeria, the atmosphere of the school wasn’t very holy.
Dinner is important to man, so it was only natural that MamaPut’s Cafeteria was bubbling with activity, especially when it was prohibited for students to cook. A huge canopy, and no more, sheltered MamaPut’s customers. The chairs were never clean. Pesky mosquitoes from nearby, funky smelling refuse buzzed over to get a piece of the action. Like most nights, MamaPut’s generator was in a foul mood. Fifteen minutes ago, it had coughed and spluttered, and gone comatose. Illumination came from the street lamp that was just outside the cafeteria and lit candles with wax bases stood erect on each table. Still, MamaPut barely had empty seats. Food was affordable and delectable. Sikira, the owner of the joint, and her female-only crew were amiable. So irrespective of its sanitary shortcomings and terrible electricity, it was the place to be for most students of Queensland University.
Two of the Ibukunola boys, seated at a table for two, were conversing while dismantling Eba and leafy Egusi soup.
‘When exactly did Brother Collins say he would transfer the money?’ Dayo asked. He was clad in a plain t-shirt and a pair of denim three-quarter shorts. Of the Ibukunola boys he had the fairest complexion, the deepest voice, and the shortest height of 5 feet and 8 inches.
Before answering, Philip swallowed a bulb of Eba dunked in the stew. ‘It’s definitely tomorrow. But he didn’t give a specific time.’ Towering six feet, he was easily the tallest and youngest among the Ibukunola boys. He shared the same skin tone as Collins. He wore a grey tunic that reached his ankles. Unlike Dayo’s cropped haircut, Philip carried a Mohawk. ‘Bleep,’ he said after remembering something. ‘He didn’t ask for our bank account numbers and I forgot to provide them.’
Dayo smiled, as he rinsed off the food residue off his hands in a bowl of water. ‘That’s why Western Union, Money gram and other international funds transfer companies exist.’
‘Oh right. I forgot about that,’ Philip replied, feeling a tad silly. ‘Anyways, I hope it’s in the early hours of the morning. Or else you’ll have to treat me to breakfast.’
Dayo raised a brow. ‘Like I have been doing for weeks. Your extravagance is legendary, aburo.’
‘That’s what big brothers do. They cater for the needs of their extravagant siblings.’ Philip smiled, revealing a white set of teeth.
‘And how did you come upon this discovery?’
‘From the league of extravagant siblings, of course,’ Philip replied with a feigned straight face.
‘You are nuts, I tell you,’ Dayo laughed. ‘Sorry to break this to you brother; But this very meal that has delightfully found its way to the pits of your belly is the last representation of my financial reserve.’
Philip shrugged. ‘Then we are screwed if Brother Collins doesn’t send the money.’
‘He will. You and I know that he follows through on promises. The only challenge, on this occasion, would be the timing.’
‘I suppose we could go on fasting till he sends the money.’
Dayo shook his head in disbelief. ‘You fast? Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be running off to your girlfriend at the slightest nudge from hunger.’
‘True,’ he grinned. He sighted one of the attendants and beckoned to her. ‘It’s what girlfriends are for.’
The busty lady obeyed promptly. As she cleared their table, Philip flirted with her and she blushed shamelessly. When she left, Dayo asked, ‘Do you care for her?’
Philip knew he was referring to the girlfriend. ‘I enjoy her company when she isn’t too needy. And that’s most of the time, lately. She’s begun asking dumb questions revolving around the number of kids we should have, where we should get married, and the perfect honeymoon location.’
Dayo laughed. ‘Is she?’
Philip frowned. ‘It’s not even funny bro. That shit freaks me out. I will have to break up with her before it gets out of hand. Wonder what I saw in her in the first place?’
‘It couldn’t possibly be her face, boobs, and ass?’ Dayo asked, clearly amused.
Philip held his jaw, his face shrouded in thought. ‘hmm…yeah that. But they lose their allure after a while.’ Suddenly, he rose to his feet.
‘And where are you off to now?’
‘To break things off with my soon-to-be-ex.’ Philip’s voice sounded as indifferent as a man who informed the next man that he was going to take a piss. Like his soon-to-be action was natural.
‘See you later,’ Dayo said, shaking his head.
‘It’s for the best. I’ll give you the gist. Bye bro.’ With that, Philip sauntered off.
Dayo smiled. He knew his brother too well to argue with him. During Philip’s three and a half years in the university, he had done the same to seven other ladies. Still a sizable amount of ladies were nuts about him for his charisma, good looks, don’t-give-a-Bleep attitude, sense of humor, and of course the social director title he held. He was their perfect bad boy. Dayo was positive that the mere reality of Philip breaking up with his girlfriend had just made another lady’s dream come true. Poor girls, Dayo sighed. He looked at his wrist watch. It was 9:20pm. The Chelsea versus Barcelona soccer match should be over now, he thought. It was time to head to his dorm and find out if his online bet had paid off.


Traditional words And Their Meanings
Eba - A popular Nigerian porridge made out of cassava.
Egusi - A popular Nigerian stew.
Aburo - Younger sibling.