₦airaland Forum

theunusualmoon:
Hope you have a girlfriend now and hope he has too.I am glad you guys have moved on.it pays to understand that like poles repel and unlike poles attract.#thisisafrica

Friend, the author isn't the owner of this account. Your question seems direct. That was not me. His name is written under the post.

slyfoxxjoe:
nice lie.. tell us another one

Believe whatever you like bro, while I move on.

Remember Clifford? The disappointed engineer. He forwarded this to my mail and with his permission, I am posting it here.


I wasn't gay but I loved him with all my heart and he loved me back. We shared intimate times together and he was the only repository I have ever trusted.

We were young then, but we didn't need anyone to remind us of religion or some rummy hodgepodge. We were much aware of ourselves and our developing love mixed with romance. He was the closest thing that ever happened to me, stories were told of us being the twins that came from different families during our days in school. Call my name any where and he responds. Wherever you find him, it was most likely that I would be there or around.

We were in secondary school and in our final year. My partner and I, as usual, would be the last to wake up and instruct subordinate students to go fetch us buckets of water for bathing. We never had soaps and would sometimes go to the johns, begging for soap. On some lucky days we got to use those of friends that were close to us like Akanch and Agyekum, but on other days we had to suffer the disconcertion that came from other colleagues.

Some days we found confidentiality in the bathroom to measure the size of our joysticks and make some few touches. We laughed at our infantile curiosity and  teased our amateurish behavior with a level of certainty that someday we shall perfect the art of being gay. We couldn't blame each other and gave ourselves reasons to err. We took succor in the fact that our school was an all boys one and so we had to help each other satisfy his sexual hunger.

We were also in the same science D class. One afternoon, when the sun was at its zenith and ennui had set in, we couldn't help ourselves from falling asleep. It was time for core maths and the teacher was more boring than the beans and rice we had for lunch. My friend was sitting in the desk right to the front of mine, so communication in class was much easier between us.

I gave him a jounce on his shoulder and he quickly veered his head in my direction, this hushed conversation begun: “Chale make we commot eeeh, I dey feel bed oo', I said and it appeared he had been waiting for this call for long, so he responded "Me sef, I no know what this man dey teach koraaa, make we go, Derick go fill us in". Stupid boy, he never said no to bad deeds, I thought to myself.

So I placed my books under my desk and prompted Derick, my seat-mate and the most brilliant in our class or need I say the entire school, to bring them to me in the dormitory when they were done with school for the day. It was apparent that education was not a thing for me and my friend, and we always took delectation in anything that didn't employ our noesis.

We went straight to the assistant house prefect's class for the keys to the dormitory. Though he resisted, we eventually cajoled him into letting us have them upon which he advised us not to leave the door ajar. We were also advised to be quiet and closed in there, and he said that he would give us preconcerted signals by  hooting if others needed to access the dormitory at close of school. To these we responded yes sir massa. Michael Tagoe was an austere prefect, we knew, but he softens when you make him feel important as a house prefect so we pried on his softness.

In the shut dormitory, where our privacy was fully assured, we didn't waste time in stealing some provisions from the innocent form one boys chopboxes. We treated ourselves to some drinks and biscuits, and gathered a beautiful booty, of which included some sardines, milk, biscuits, nido etc. After satisfying our stomach, we felt the need to feed our lust.

My friend lay in one bed and another next to him was occupied by me. We were both enjoying the tranquility of the atmosphere, listening to the sporadic tweeting of birds unseen,relishing the airy nature of the dorm and casting periodic glances at each other. Uncertain of who to start, we both had a quick laugh at our timidity. Then I finally mustered courage to join him on his bed.

We made funny comments about the last time we tried it,the childish propensities displayed and promised ourselves that we were going to do it better this time. I slapped the cheeks of his butts so hard that, it zest him to slap me back, which resulted in some doggish play of a sort.

We rested ourselves side by side on the bed, still looking deep into each other's eyes, I could name a spirit of true love in there and never to be let down by those eyes. You see, he was the beginning of all that I have come to know about love. Though we both had girlfriends in the same girls school, we savored our intimacy more than the ones we had with our female friends.

We finally brought our heads closer enough such that our tongues would inter lock. We kissed lightly and briefly, and then relaxed for a while to ascertain from our faces whether we were loving it. And then continued kissing, making some touches of our butts and finally our joysticks. His was short but huge while mine was long and fat.

It was getting profound and the air in the room seemed to have vanished all of a sudden, at this moment, we were not sure of our feelings, it seemed to me as it did to him, that we stopped. But we were so hard already and needed to vomit that whitish fluid and be free.

He had a big butt, and was ready to swallow my dick in them. He pulled down my pants and I reared the straight and nodding cock, sweating yet confused whether I wanted to thrust those naked butts of a fellow man or not. He was also perplexed about his feelings but we loved each other so much that we were ready to do it for the other and not necessarily for ourselves. So just about the time of first penetration, I paused to ask my friend if he needed this. He also asked me if I wanted it and we both shouted a big No to ourselves!

Surprisingly,we wept bitterly that afternoon, we cried as if we had both lost our parents. We regretted our actions and teared up over the fact that we couldn't control our lust. We both felt deficient of our self esteem and avoided each other's eyes. In the guilty silence, I could hear the devil's laughter over our lecherousness.

The next day was a Saturday, I travelled back home and went straight to the parish priest to make a voluntary confession of all that had happened. We prayed and he told me to go and sin no more. But till now, we both have been fighting our hangdog conscience anytime the subject of gayness is raised. I abhor it, it disgusts me and I have strongly condemned gays in our society, but now law demands that we respect them in our midst and so I have no choice but to obey the law.

But I am glad I bought my freedom with this truth.

NOTE: Don't be too quick to judge me.

Author: Oppong Clifford Benjamin.

WARNING: Any content posted with this account are original works of the account holder or those of authors who either contacted him or were contacted and who duly consented that their works be used with due acknowledgement.

No part of it or its whole may be copied for use by anyone without the written permission of the owner of this account sought and granted.

cc; lalasticlala

He is just like that. Earlier this year, I wrote a piece and it was published by many media outfits. I did on Nairaland too. He got to read it and called me personally to commend me. Didn't know how he got the number, maybe through the name. He is down to earth.

Wait! Yes, you. I know you are here to see the band in preparation for Saturday's life time event. I know you have paid Bella Naija to make a picture noise of your event, but let me steal a minute of your time. Sorry for my audacity- I know it is none of my business, but just let me preach this sermon and discharge the moral burden on me. I can see the bride to-be staring at me- she just want me to make a statement that would indicate that the marriage should not be contracted and I'll smell as great as a roasted meat. Easy, lady, no sane man will do that and the last time I checked, I am still okay up there. I know a diamond encrusted ring is what the bride wants, the wedding gown was designed by Pnina Tornai and was bought at the exclusive Kleinfeld in New York. I also know that the groom will order for four pairs of classy Italian shoes- changing from one to another every four hours... It is all good, but may I ask this begging question? How did you get here? How was the decision to marry in seven days time reached?

The above question is the reason for this piece- to attempt correcting an anomaly that is parading itself as an acceptable social convention. In disguise, it has managed to cross the historic border from generations to generations- breaking homes more than building it. Making mothers with the mental disposition of toddlers and fathers whose level of responsibility is not beyond that of a class 5 class captain- fetching chalks and dusters. Then we cry foul- children lacking compass of good attitude are on the loose, born children of anger unleashing e-terror on the social media, youths are lacking in the intellectual credential to be leaders. We blame them all, but can a sick convention birth an outcome that is hale? So, I write.

There is a dangerous trend that is selling very fast- than 'galas' and 'lacasera' sell in a setting filled with job searching graduates. It leaves young men pushed and unfulfilled, ladies helpless and frustrated and the society at large wanton. Individuals make a family, family makes a home and homes make a community. Then, it is right to hold that the larger society or nation is sick not because of the government perse but because we are all sick. Yes, all of us- though for different purposes and varying degrees. Let me address one of these dangerous norms- the marriage for people.

In recent time, I have observed the drastic growth in the penchant for marriage- mostly common among ladies. It started from my observation on my social media pages on free weekends- Facebook, BBM et al. Wait, I am not against marriage as an institution and I do not intend to do a review of who or who should not get married, but I want to address the purpose. On one occasion, a female friend updated the wedding picture of her friend. That was not her first time and it is not uncommon for people to do that. But there was an event this time- in less than 3 minutes, another mutual friend updated her pm with the dp of my good friend, the PM read 'this girl has felicitated with millions of her friends who became brides, abeg guys, pick her too now, she is aging.' It was a joke- an expensive and insensitive one. Such may not pull a strand of hair from some of us, we know some people's fingers are faster than their brains, but it did not go down well with my friend. She removed the picture she used immediately and an exchange of harsh remarks started on PMs. I would not step in, but I watched and observed.

I think that like my other friend that made that insensitive remark, most, if not all of us are misguided in orientations and philosophy about marriage, what it stands for and what it should achieve. It is beyond hooking up with someone at a certain age, sex, making babies or whatever. But here we are, at a cross road- confused and forcing that philosophy on others. So, when a lady is not married or engaged between 23 to 27, she is in trouble. Why? Forget whatever social basis or inclinations on the ground of religion. It is not about the right age, but the right time. I have observed that love, whatever meaning we give it does not solely sustain relationship. Same goes with money, look, friendship or whatever. The moral believe that a lady or a guy should be married at a certain age in itself expresses our moral decadence- that we lack the understanding and basic principle of living and letting live. Marriage is not just about love, sex, money, accomplishments or making babies- all those can be gotten outside marriage. Though, I am not saying sex or baby should come to play outside the institution but it is just an expression of the truth.

A lady or guy could say that she wants happiness in a man before she can marry him or that he wants fulfilment in a woman, who are we to define happiness or fulfilment for them? For God sake, marriage is about the two people involved, not even the in-laws or ever meddling friends. The danger in the argument of 'right' age for marriage is this- it mistakes age for exposure and maturity but that is a not well conceived one. For me, even at 19, if you are convinced that it is the right time to go into it and you have what it takes, I support it. But will you tell me that at 30 or even more, a person who is not mentally prepared or feels the right time has not come should get married? Majority of the marriages contracted today are done for the people- marriage for the people- people are talking, they are asking you why all your friends are married but you are not, they are asking why your two younger sisters are married and you don't even have a boyfriend, they whisper something each time you walk by because you are 31 and you don't have a fiancée. Then, to stop them from talking and kill the shame, you said that most important YES to the man or woman who is not even it. Congratulations, you just married for the people. I hope the people will bear the consequence with you and know how painful wearing that shoes can be? Youths, marry for your own purpose and conviction, not public opinion.

So, thanks for the time my dear brother and sister. May you not marry for people on Saturday. May I have a copy of the invitation card?

...True, your wife ought to be beautiful lest you tire of each other quickly; and a lack of brains is not recommended since you must hold converse with each other, but this is not the heart of the matter.

The important requisite is that your wife should not be prone to evil, for it is your wife who gives you meat and gives you drink and is admitted most to your secrets. God has created them such close creatures that there hardly exists any manner in which they cannot come at a man.

And to you my daughter, do not be easily deceived by the words of a man who says your beauty did not draw him to you- for how would he run after you at an appearance and claim your intelligence made him come? This is the truth, do not concern yourself with searching for the right man, make yourself the right woman because bees are attracted to sweet scent- if darkness gets attracted to light, it is sure of death.

And do not engage in that gamble- if he can't drop any habit you detest now, thinking he would in marriage is more dangerous than sipping a cup of acid. See, easy with your chase for success itself, it takes skill not strength, or would you say your father lied when he said success is one of the cheapest commodity one can get as long as he has the right negotiating skills?

I have come of age my son, and these legs have walked miles... For the era of age equalling experience is dead and long buried, now experience equals exposure and that can be bought with the cheap currency of open mindedness.

My unborn children, listen... For it is in my letters that the map is drawn.

Acknowledgement: Forest of a thousand daemons and D. Omoni.

Benjamin is a Ghanian friend of mine, he is a skilled poet. He studied Engineering and was graduated by one of the top higher institutions in Ghana, this is the text he shared with me and I decided to publish subject to his permission. I think we can all learn something.

For years past,I have now found a reason to celebrate my graduation.
I had pledged not to ever mention that I was an engineer and the best in my department. (Civil Engineering). You see, very strangely of me, while others
were all joyous that day about been successful graduands, I wasn't any happy. I had regretted wasting so many years. I was pronounced best graduating student of the civil engineering department and as I
walked through the mammoth crowd to receive my award,one question was in my troubled mind, am I an engineer?

Like any other African student, I had spent years learning how to pass an examination, I memorized all formulas,principles and even complex structural calculations, and I was so good at it that I could sing out to you my highway engineering handout. I was the student who could write a whole levelling,Traversing and
Coordinates calculations in the sky. I just stargazed and there they were with the stars;the advanced calculus,engineering mathematics and advanced fluid mechanics scary formulae.

I didn't know anything on the field. Though our program was suppose to be practical enough, unfortunately it
had no such impact on us. Yet there I was as an engineering student.
Fast forward, the reason am posting these pictures now,is that I have seen in myself a future so clear. I have discovered that I will be a civil engineering lecturer and continue the tradition of breeding theory engineers.
I am happy now because I know that I will finally end up in the class endangering the built society. Am glad
because we will finally keep tradition and wait on some Chinese to construct our roads, build our complex structures, design our transportation network. While we
brag that we are engineers.

Congrats. Oppong Clifford Benjamin.

Pathetic

A cry for insanity- freedom misunderstood!

I'm not trying to speak in his support, but don't you think he did it on purpose? Like to make the answer confidential considering the sensitive nature of the issue?

InvertedHammer:
/
So you expect Nigerians to congratulate Abati?

You are the one that is sick.

\

Your fingers work faster than your brain.

saudatu:
! May God bless you.. Thank you

God bless you too

VickyRotex:
God Bless you. Most sensible comment on the 1st page.

You too friend

There is one thing about reacting in the heat of passion- you realize that you are not any better after the whole show.

Yes, Mr. Abati was a disappointment if one would be objective. He acted not to be in the know that what goes around comes around. However, those remarks are way too harsh and not necessary.

Some people will do worse if given a chance but the best player has been known to be among the spectators, so we can all cast our stones. Even student union presidents embezzling funds, youths in the places of worship engaging in shady deals, liars, pretenders etc.

The problem of Nigeria is not actually about the leaders of today, but the immemorial leaders of tomorrow. We keep lamenting that those there are bad, but how do you explain to any unprejudiced man that youths who can't make a simple intelligent remark online on an issue without insult should be given a chance in the bigger society? Even here on Nairaland, for every civil and gentleman or lady, you have 9 parodies of youths. How do you expect a gentleman, diplomat or ambassador from a youth who would jump in your thread to ignore the issue and insult your person?

Just start from space-bookers who won't even use the page for needed comments afterwards, to words violent individual and then those destined to make tribal remarks. Even Nairaland is a country, Moderators being leaders here- some of them are nothing to sing and dance home about in how they handle issues here. Truth is I've never had anything with any of them but I have read a lot of comments on their autocratic dispositions.

May God save us from us.

Yet they wrote TEENAGERS! Where on earth are girls of 4, 6 & 7 called teenagers?

Those girls are core infants. Children! There must be hell- just for the sake of some Nigerians and it must be blazing hot.

Mariojane:
that small boy does not look like us. Buhari let's probe him

Lolz. This got me laughing! How do we look now?

It was around the third week of January, I was on the queue for almost 30 minutes at the ATM point. It was my turn, so I inserted my card and proceeded to request for a withdrawal. The machine replied in its usual courteous manner: please wait while your transaction is processing. 'No problem my friend,' I replied with a smile as i turned back to face those behind me with a smile. It shouldn't take more than 10 to 20 seconds before my wait should be over and I was determined to maximise my blue day. Blue day? Yes.

Each mindset with its colour: blue, orange, gold, lemon, maroon, indigo and grey. While some of this colours come to showcase their characteristics in my general attitude on different occasions, as ubiquitous as colour blue is, it is one that rarely comes to play. Orange and Indigo are common- each coming to play at least once in every 9 days, but blue? It rarely comes. What is Blue here? Indescribable, the mood that reveals that like amoeba is in shape, men have no definite form of attitude- how he can be anything subject to the dictate of nature, wealth, position, beauty, intelligence or experience. On blue days, I could be an old man- dishing out words of encouragement to lads in a manner that could leave listeners feeling like Methuselah was my childhood friend. I could be a bossy boss- very aggressive and inconsiderate- making a satire of how the highs treat the societal dregs and the less fortunate. On blue days, all I do is act. So, that day was a blue day, it was more so because I came across another character who didn't need to rehearse with me to make us garner a considerable audience.

So, I was smiling at those behind me on the queue while I await the outcome of granting the machine's courteous request. The woman next to me on the queue reciprocated the smile, then I started in Yoruba 'oko yin ati awon omo yin nko?' 'Won wa'. She responded. I was about letting out another personal question when I heard that sound the ATM makes anytime it deems one's card worthy of throwing away. On a normal day, I would have lamented the bad system and proceeded to another point, but blue days are different. 'Madam, e ma binu, e je ki n ba machine yin soro.' 'Madam, don't be crossed with me, let me talk to this machine.' Some of those on the queue smiled while some who already saw what was written on the screen hissed and dispersed- temporarily out of service.

I removed my card and made to enter the bank. At the entrance, I met Perpetual, a colleague at the university. Perpetual's sense of humour is incredible and I could figure out that he has not rescinded from that habit when he saw me and retorted 'the first lawyer from his village, thank God you graduated from the university after 8 years. I am happy for you.' I smiled and interjected 'Is your hometown still topping the chart for the highest number of lunatics in Africa?' 'Yes o, do you want me to make you one? The juju na just #30.' After a moment of chat, we both deemed it fit that we go in for my transaction and leave together. Meeting Perpetual was a recipe for the full manifestation of what a blue day is.

I was on suit, he was not. I think that he was casual sort of. He held a brief case and was on a fedora hat. We were behind each other at the entrance. I entered the bank- UBA at challenge in Ilorin and waited. He entered a couple of seconds later and sat down. After about 2 minutes, Perpetual whispered to me, 'that lady is looking at you'. I adjusted my tie and walked towards the queue. A minute later, I retorted in a bossy and aggressive tone 'Hammed, don't you think it is rather rude and a reflection of your dwindling professional ethics that you leave me here standing?' 'Sir, I'm very sorry sir. I no know say you wan sit oga'. He said and rushed towards me with his briefcase held close to his chest. With that, some of the customers and staffers of the bank were already looking at us. It was a blue day- to act my script without giving a damn was my business, so I didn't care if anyone thought I was too young to be his boss. Perpetual made it perfect, he held the suit case close to his chest and was almost prostrating. I noticed that the girl Perpetual hinted was staring was not looking at us then, she was with the staff in charge of customer's complaints. Hha, she must look.

'Be sorry for your indolent disposition towards tasks,' I continued. 'Abeg Sir'. He further pleaded. He came to the queue and pleaded with me to go and have a seat while he stood on the queue. I reluctantly obliged after looking at him in a disdainful manner for a few seconds. I walked to the seat with one hand in my pocket. At intervals, I was dishing out insults on Perpetual even as he stood on the queue, I accused him of stealing an expensive wrist watch from my collection when I was not in Nigeria. The only thing he could do was to say sorry and bow. By then, the lady had joined the list of those paying attention to us. I was conscious of my pitch, it must not be too high, else they would suspect that I was an aspiring rich man and that my driver was in fact, my colleague. I did not stop calling him names at intervals. The woman who was behind me on the queue earlier was now confused because I didn't even act as if we've met before.

Eventually, it was almost my turn, so Perpetual rushed down to where I was sitting and bowed 'Sir, you can now withdraw that token for me sir.' With that statement, it dawned on me that whatever I withdraw at the counter would go a long way in revealing my actual financial status. The cashier, those behind me would get to know what this aggressive rich man came to queue for almost 20 minutes for. An idea came to my mind, I should raise the tempo of my anger for my driver, Hammed and dash out of the bank in anger. But what about the lady? So, I stood up with an assurance of deft management of the situation and my co-actor's dexterity, I walked up to the cashier and when I was almost passing the 'looking' lady, I turned back and asked Perpetual 'Hamid, did ju park ma car right?' Straining my nerves to conjure some cool accent. 'Yes sir, it is outside.' I got to the cashier, placed my slip on the counter, and picked the pen from his desk. I was having mine in my pocket, but such attitude won't be new to anyone who has come across a mad rich man. He looked at me like someone who wanted to object but I gave him a scornful look. He then said 'please, can you just move to a side, so that I would attend to the next customer pending the time you would fill the slip?' I scoffed and reluctantly moved to a side. Chai, #7,000 on top all the noise. Then I called out to Perpetual 'Hammed, how much did you tell me would take you to Offa?' I knew Offa was one of the closest town to Ilorin and the transportation fare should not be more than #1,000. 'Oga, #800 will be okay. Shebi you don give me money yesterday.' Whao, I felt like hugging Perpetual, but rule No 7 of the inconsiderate rich man's principles provides: on no condition shall you hug your driver, except you two are attacked my robbers and you want to use him as a cover for bullet.

'Okay, let me double that up and then add a sum of #5000 to it for you to have a decent meal while travelling.' 'Hha, God will bless you sir.' I withdrew a sum of #7,000 and handed the cash to him right there. By then, the lady already left the banking hall. I told Perpetual to make sure he delivers the money and the provisions I gave him last night to his people at Offa and he delightfully agreed.

'Sir, you have a message,' Perpetual said as he handed me his phone. On the screen, he carefully typed 'Legal lunatic, enjoy your boss position, but forget your money.' I looked up with a pretentious smile and said audibly 'tell him to take it for free, I know he can't afford it. I'll get another one when I go on a trip.' 'Okay sir,' he replied and rushed back to sit.

We both went out leaving eyes on us as we walked out. We got out and went to the other side of the road to board a cab. We entered a cab heading for Broad way and while the driver was awaiting other passengers, Perpetual tapped me and pointed to his side- the lady at the bank was buying fruits. We both felt like the ground should swallow us. The devil eventually attended our bouffe when she turned back and entered right beside Perpetual in the cab. We were short of words, looking like overhyped footballers who lost penalty shootouts. She sat quietly too, with her gaze fixed to the front. Soon, the cab moved. We got to Broad way and Perpetual faced me, 'Sir, I parked your car inside here.' 'Then let us go and get it.' We both alighted and headed for the entrance. We looked back at once and saw her looking at us in a spiteful manner...

Yes, purpose achieved-that is how pretenders and people without regard for the feelings of another should be looked at, but people won't do that, they are rather celebrated. Blue days are not days of pretence, they are days of identifying the societal vices through impromptu acting and making a satire of them.

Sile12, you are one of the very few brains that can be trusted and followed on this forum. For this, you made the shortlist of the brains I can boast of here.

Impressive. That is how it should be, after all these are the people who were responsible for the votes cast and they are not less human.