₦airaland Forum

How are you fellas doing? I didn’t post this earlier in the day ‘cos I didn’t want to get blamed when your boss catches you faffing around in the office when you are supposed to be slaving away and you’ll say, ‘its because of that stupid Chimezie and his stupid blog sef.’ Now that we have gotten that out of the way, here’s this weeks’ funny story,

Some years ago, I was having a tiff with my mom and being in the house was pretty unbearable. Momsi was the ultimate ‘peace enforcer’ back in the days (she still is sha, but age has somehow slowed her down.) Step out of line and she would flog the shit-Bleep out of you with one of her omnipresent canes or heavy slippers and THEN, she would give you the cold shoulder to make sure you really got the message. Those were trying times, especially as my younger brother and I couldn’t seem to stay the hell out of trouble!

While sulking around the house, I remembered that the youths organized a vigil scheduled to be held that evening in the church premises. Seeing as the atmosphere at home was kinda charged, I decided that I was gonna go for it and get some respite and maybe in the process I would find Jesus. When I told momsi I was leaving for the vigil, she looked at me funny; like how we would react if Goodluck Jonathan admitted that he is an incompetent leader. Up to that point I had never showed any active interest in religious matters and I’m sure she knew my motive for going was crooked, but she let me go without any questions.

The vigil was boring (God forgive me!) After approximately 19.5 seconds, I wished I was home playing Pro Evolution Soccer on my Playstation but it was too late to leave and go home so I hunkered down and began to curse myself very vehemently. Naturally I was in one of the back rows so I figured I would pretend to look interested in the proceedings for an hour or two, then doze off till dawn.

Around 2am, I woke up to some commotion. It appeared that the ‘man of God’ had taken it upon himself to ‘cast out demons’ from members of the congregation. People around me were ‘speaking in tongues’ and experiencing spiritual orgasms while I stood there with a bewildered look on my face. The man was going from person to person, laying his hands on their foreheads and causing them to ‘fall under the anointing’ (like my ‘guy’ Vanessa informs me.) Omo, this shit wasn’t funny o! I looked frantically towards the exit doors but they were all locked! Damnit! I began to have nightmares o! What if I didn’t fall down and roll on the floor in spasms like the others? Would they think I was evil? I began conjuring up images of church elders sitting with my parents and telling them solemnly, ‘your son is a motherfucking DEVIL!’ Omo, it wasn’t funny o!

Suddenly, my brain ‘touched’. I think we all share that trait in my family, Our brains dey touch bad bad. Omo, I swore I wasn’t gonna fall down ‘cos of no preacher man! I began mean-mugging the guy as he drew closer, firming up my resolve not to succumb. When he got to me, he took in the animosity on my face and saw a challenge. He apparently didn’t want no ‘small boy’ to intimidate him so he chanted some words (spoke in tongues, whatever) and lay his hand on my forehead. I half expected an electrifying sensation to ripple through me and toss me to the ground like a rag doll and I was half relieved and half disappointed when nothing happened. The guy stepped back and assessed me critically. This motherfucker wants to embarrass me abi, he must have thought. He laid his hand on me again, and this time he pushed my head backwards with some force, hoping to make me lose my balance and fall so he could chalk it up as another ‘victory’. I staggered backwards slightly, but regained my balance and fixed him with the most evil look I could possibly muster and believe me, it was as evil as hell! The fella was gonna try again but when he saw that look, he wisely moved on to the next person who fell down right on cue,

All through the remainder of the evening, the guy kept attacking demons who resided in people (read Chimezie here) and how God was stronger than any demon. I was bristling with anger but hey, shebi na me carry myself come. I sat there and endured another 3 hours of his blistering sermons and prayers until the vigil officially ended and I was the first person out of the door, making my way through it even before it had fully opened sef!

When I got home, momsi asked me how the vigil went and I responded, ‘fine’. What else could I have said?

Have a great weekend!

[color=Black]Ok, So back in Federal Government College Enugu, I was relatively anonymous up to JSS 2. I was kinda short and skinny, something like those Aki and Pawpaw boys/men. Everyone thought I was going to be a professional midget but my mom, God continue to bless her, was nearly the only one who believed in my ‘ability to grow’ and I’m more than glad (for her sake and mine) that I rewarded her faith in me.

But that’s not the story, jare! So I was telling you how I was a ‘jew man’ till I got to JS 2. Here’s the gist,

I used to be pretty good at drawing, which I believed stemmed from the countless cartoons and movies I watched as a kid which developed my sense of imagination, and my very pretty handwriting which I got from both my dad and mom. (My brothers and sisters share this trait too.) I used to draw comics for my amusement during those long, boring hours of night prep when you were in no mood to read anything and falling asleep would fetch you some sadistic punishment from the devilishly-juvenile prefects who abused their powers more often than PDP-appointed Government officials. After a while, friends began to sit next to me during prep, watching me draw all night and offering advice regarding the plots of my comics. I sold my first comic for N20, which I used to buy okpa and a bottle of 7up in the Students’ Center the next day! My eyes were suddenly open to a world (more like, a school) of possibilities! So I could monetize my hobby? Woohoo!!!

I dived into the project with gusto. I began to cannibalize my note books to draw comics for commercial distribution. I usually spent a maximum of 3 days on a 20 page comic, with lots of help from a posse of friends who ALL wanted their input incorporated into my comics. You can imagine that I developed superb man-management skills as a result of this!

But that’s not the main story either!

One day, two twats commissioned me to draw a comic for them. They promised to pay me my going rate of N20 when I was done with the comic. After describing the characters and the plot, we shook hands and departed, with me promising to get it ready in 3 days or less. I drew the comic in two days, being the honest lad I was, Problem was, someone came along, read the masterpiece, and offered me N30 for the same comic! Who the hell was I to refuse this generous offer? An extra N10 meant two okpas! I sold it to the fella double damn quick and spent my booty. My customers came around when they felt the comic was due and they were appalled when I told them it was not ready! I promised to draw another one but the motherfuckers went and reported me to one teacher who, after interrogating me, reported me to the Principal! My sin was not the fact that I was a Capitalist genius, the two pricks snitched on me and told the lady that I ‘stole’ other students’ books to draw the comics (a fact they were aware of at the time they asked me to draw theirs o!)

I was kneeling down during Morning Assembly the following day, having been tagged by a dumbass prefect for making noise, when Mr Silas Nnamonu (the Principal at that time) began reading the announcements for the day. I was desperately nursing hope that the teacher forgot to report me and it seemed my luck was holding when Silas cleared his throat and launched into a diatribe on me! He rambled on and on, while I knelt behind the assembled students and tried not to weep. I was not looking forward to him calling me out in assembly and asking a teacher to punish me. I pictured myself being held up by four sturdy lads and being flogged by a male teacher, who would probably vent his frustrations on me and tear my skin with the cane, spilling my blood and most likely pee all over the front ranks of the assembly. I snapped out of my day-mare in time to hear him finish the announcement, ‘, and he calls himself, the rattlesnake!’

Pause there, Sir! I wasn’t the rattlesnake, my nickname was SNAKE! Not cobra, adder, python or anaconda, just snake! That was my trademark, which was quite ingenious if I may say so myself! The man went on, ‘And he will be escorted to my office after the Assembly by, , Mr Oweniwe.’

A loud, excited yell rent the air, as the student body smelt blood! Mr Oweniwe was a no nonsense teacher who was once in the Army and had a reputation as being the toughest and most skilled flogger in school! It didn’t hurt his rep that he was the commandant of the School Cadet either!

I wanted to lie down and just die! MR OWENIWE for Pete’s sakes! I wasn’t a repeat offender; neither was I a senior boy! It was sheer wickedness, overkill! It was akin to a Heavy Battle tank to evict a recalcitrant tenant! I repeat, in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I wanted to roll over and just die! Mr Oweniwe!!!!

After assembly, I slunk to my class to write my will. My classmates (the males sha) mobbed me, some jeering while others consoled me. I didn’t care either way, I was thinking about my family and if I was ever going to see them again. Some people told me to pad my arse so the cane wouldn’t bite so hard while others said if they caught me doing that, I was as good as dead as they would double or triple the punishment! Omo, see me see wahala!

At 9am, I presented myself for execution in the Principal’s office. I met Mr Oweniwe there and introduced myself as the ‘executionee’. He looked at me from head to toe in shock. I believe he got the impression that I was much bigger than the midget in front of him and I had a face as shifty and evil as Micheal Aadoonkaa’s. (remember him? Nigeria’s immediate past Attorney-General) Silas’ secretary ushered us into his expansive office and we met him in deep conversation with a female visitor. He looked up and bellowed, ‘Is this the snake? Bloody fool! Mr Oweniwe, give him 6 lashes with the koboko!’

Omo, I wasn’t even fucking around anymore! I peed in my pants as soon as I heard that! I think that saved my life, ‘cos when Mr Oweniwe turned to me with the koboko, he noticed that my shorts were wet and there was a puddle under me. I was shaking visibly in fear! He gave me a funny look which, looking back now, was out of pity. He made me turn around and gave me the first stroke of the koboko. Omo, I did a triple-backflip and rolled on the floor in agony! I was wailing like a castrated goat and begging God to take my life! During my performance, I noticed that my back wasn’t aflame as a result of the koboko. I also noticed that I wasn’t really in pain. I then figured Mr Oweniwe was going easy on me and I almost laughed in relief! I assumed the position for the next 4 strokes and gave a performance that Brad Pitt would have been proud of! Silas kept telling me to shut up while the woman looked at me in disgust. Well, Bleep you too madam! When the last stroke landed on my back, I went down like I was shot from behind! You know the pose most actors assume when they get shot from behind, nah? Face contorted in agony, head tilting upwards, hands clawed, knees bent, before they fall and slump face down! That’s exactly what I did, ‘cos that last stroke felt like Armageddon! I almost turned around and asked Mr Oweniwe what the Bleep he was doing and why he was deviating from the plot?

When I recovered from that last stroke, I got up and thanked the Principal and Mr Oweniwe and walked out of the office, head held high and with a spring to my step! The secretary looked shocked to see me walking out on my own. She must have expected me to be carried out on a stretcher!

When I got back to my class, ALL my classmates ignored the teacher in the class and mobbed me again, this time with awe and respect! They expected a sobbing, broken down lad and were surprised to see me confidently marching in, the marks of the koboko imprinted on my not-so-white shirt! From that moment onwards, my legendary status was assured!

I’m pleased to say I inspired a new trend of nicknames in school after that incident, A number of students, including my seniors, adopted animal-themed nicknames. Lion, Tiger, Scorpion, One fella even called himself ‘rat’ after all the good names had been taken! I had people stop me in school and ask, ‘are you snake’, and nod respectfully when I answered in the affirmative. Sigh, The good old days!

Have a great weekend, peeps!
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