I woke up that very morning and greeted the people around me with the traditional 'good morning' and started the preparation for the much anticipated journey. With much enthusiasm, I dressed up like a youth corper who got posted to a choice primary post of assignment.
Within minutes I was already at the motor park to board a vehicle going to Onitsha en route Sabon-Geri Kano state. A lady that sat beside me has almost bleached off the better part of her skin as I could perceive the smell of her veins. As the driver negotiated with trailers on some sharp bending corners on the single lane Obollo Afor-9thmile road, a woman who sat at the back seat was heard yelling " Obara Jesus, driver jiri nwayo"
This lady that sat behind me is an another replica of Nkoli Nwa Nsukka as she bought Ijiriji, boiled groundnuts, Okpa and can Coke. Before we got to the 9th Mile areas, she has consumed everything and started sleeping. As if that wasn't enough, she added snoring to her ignominious list of 'atrocities' and capped it all by placing her head on my shoulder.

The journey to Onitsha lasted for 3 hours and some minutes and I alighted and headed straight to my house. As I got to the house, I was greeted with the sad fact that just like Aso Rock, rats have vandalised my apartment. I however managed to manoeuvre my way to the table and picked up my Bible, dusted it and checked for cockroaches before leaving the house for the motor park. My expertise as a flight reservation personnel came in to play as I demanded to be given a window side seat so I can feed my eyes with everything the road has to offer.
I was anxious to get to this state that has been in the news for so many reasons; notable among them is the government sponsored mass marriage.
I learnt that every male including the ones suffering from erectile dysfunction are qualified for this bumper promo. I was wondering what a man with a 'demilitarized zone' will be doing with a wife when he can not launch an attack in the other room.

As soon as we started the journey, commercial preachers took the centre stage. They took turns to pray and solicit for funds. Despite the fact that the greater number of the passengers were Northerners of Islamic faith, the preachers made it clear to the listening ears that unless they denounce their respective religion and embrace Christianity, that they will be going to hell fire.
While the preachings were going on, I could incoherently hear some Muslim guys saying "Kai magana Allah, walahi". We Christians are the one making caricature of Christianity. I wonder if they should use chisel to drill the fact that everyone must not be a Christian to make heaven in to our heads. From Onitsha bridge head, there was no police or military checkpoint till we got to Okene in Kogi state.
I was beaming my searchlight on both sides of the road looking for anything to set my eyes on.
This was how I landed my sight on two people standing in a compromised and questionable position before the Lokoja bridge. The guy was aiming his palms at the lady's chest with a palpable intent to squeeze it. I hurriedly removed my eyes and did the sign of the cross.

On getting to Zaria, I realized my battery strength will not be able to put a call across to the people I was visiting so I resolved to offer one of my sausage rolls to a guy seating beside and had a power bank with him. Fortunately the guy accepted without much hesitation and I was like " Ah hunger don finish this guy already"
I waited for him to finish eating the sausage roll before I asked him to lend me his power bank. He had no option than to give it to me else he will vomit a sealed sausage roll.
While we had a stop over at Zaria, I alighted to buy Suya meat. The suya was really delicious perhaps because the cow never trekked a thousand kilometers to Igbo land.
From Zaria to Kano is more than 400 kilometers yet there was no checkpoint and schools. As I got tired of seeing arable lands and farmers, I decided to sleep only to be tapped by the guy seating beside that said "good morning guy, we don reach Sabon-Geri"

Next will be my experience in the city .....but make I go hustle come back

Nice....

Following

You removed your eyes on seeing people kissing?
weydone Sir!!

SaiNigeria:
You removed your eyes on seeing people kissing?

weydone Sir!!

lol

Continuation....

When we got at the park, we disembarked and I put a call across to my receiver. While I was waiting for his arrival, I discovered I was the cynosure of all eyes. Virtually everyone was clad in a long caftan and the trademark Hausa cap.
"Could it be because I wasn't dressed in like manner" I wondered. I was putting on a black long sleeve shirt made in Instabul Turkey; tucked in to a thigh-revealing shorts made in Jakarta Indonesia and complemented with a black pair of ankle shoe made in Manilla Philippine. In my palms were a wide screen Tecno phone made in Gongzhou China and a black bag made in Osisioma(Aba) Abia state.

I became terrified as I remembered the activities of Hisbah Sharia police for they could swoop on me for being too 'sexy' and thus their female Muslims may find me irresistible. I quietly left for a lonely corner at the park and again called my receiver. " if anything happen to me here, my blood will be on your head" I told him on phone. While waiting for him, I covered my exposed thighs with a handkerchief and sat like a lady that wore a short skirt to visit her prospective mother in-law.
Fortunately he arrived in a short while and I hopped into his car like it was headed to Russia. Inside the car I was panting heavily and sweating profusely like Judas Iscariot after the betrayal. Satisfied that I'm now safe after we got to his house, I ate, took my bathe and retired to bed.

When I woke up in the morning the next day, I rushed to the balcony to see what a morning atmosphere in the city looks like. Behold was a scene of pupils with long hijab, kids with bowls cashing in on the early morning rush and soliciting for alms and some sounds of "iron kwondem alumilo kwondem"
My friend has already left but I could remember he asked me to call a MAI RUWA downstairs to fill the container with water so I called one and made a sign indicating I need his service.
After filling the container, he knocked at the door for him to be paid. 'How much be your money? " I asked him. "galoM deri biu" he replied immediately.

I was still struggling to understand him before a neighbor named Rukhyatu came to my rescue. "My dear give him #300" she told me. I gave him #500 and waved at him indicating he should keep the balance. As he was thanking me in Hausa language, I was looking at his Gworo-ravaged teeth. Fresh and rotten particles of Gworo were all struggling to outshine each other.

I admire your writing skills

sabon gari

SaiNigeria:
I admire your writing skills

Daalu

cc Alcmene

cc sainigeria

Dope...you're the next big thing on NL

My third day in the city was a Saturday and I decided to visit my friend's shop in a bid of further exploring the city.
I quickly dressed up, went downstairs and flagged down a keke but the two occupants were young females clad in long hijab so I quickly waved at the rider to go.
The second one I flagged down had three male passengers with black spots on their forehead and I again waved at the rider to go.
Fortunately, the third was empty so I negotiated for a charter service.
Where I was dropped is just a five minutes walk to the plaza I was going but it took me over 30 minutes to get there.
While I walked, I was suspicious of any young female on hijab and I diverted or turned back on sighting any.

The next day was a Sunday and my friend asked me to prepare so we go to church. Immediately he said it, I remembered the Madalla church bomb blast and replied him "me go to church in Hausa land?, please I want to go home with my body parts intact"
He laughed and after much persuasion, I accepted and prepared.
On getting to the street leading to church, there was a barricade that barred vehicular movement in to the church premises. Upon inquiry, I was told it's to forestall the activities of suicide bombers and I immediately started fidgeting.
Was walking majestically but inside of me was a man dying of fear.

On getting to the church entrance, I looked up only to behold a machine gun pointed towards my direction like I was a suspect. I immediately dodged like I was dodging a bullet and made to run. I almost caused a scene as the fierce looking military man manning the Kalashnikov riffle ordered that I should be thoroughly searched.

On getting inside the church, I was panting like a lizard that fell from the tree and had my eyes fixed on the fence in case the bombers decide to scale the perimeter fence. In a short while, the mass started and I moved my sight and concentration from the perimeter fence to the alter.

As a former mass server in the Roman Catholic church, I was expecting the sight of the priest, MC, ist acolyte, 2nd acolyte, 3rd acolyte, Thurible bearer, bat bearer etc but I saw none.
On closer observation, some ladies were putting on trousers, little girls were among the mass servers, ladies and some men clad in vestments of the mass servers were seen dishing out holy communion to people and I asked my friend "are you sure this is a Catholic church?"
While I waited to hear the traditional Igbo 'nabanu na misa agwusigo' , I heard nothing. The mass was conducted in English language and I couldn't comprehend most of the proceedings.
TO BE CONTINUED

This guy you no go kill person

You have this special way of hooking your readers with the humorous aspect of your stories