₦airaland Forum

It is raining and i am thinking about choices, the reason why people like what they like, and why some of us most times because we can’t understand it, feel the need to police those choices.
Before I continue, I know what you’ll say. ‘Profett is it every time that rain falls that you get revelation?’ The answer to that is simple. During this kind of weather for two that some people are enjoying, holding on to things, putting their hands in places, carrying out the spirit dance – kprokoto kpom kpom - and getting satisfied, in the spirit of Warri that doesn’t carry last, a profett in the absence of a Proffetess, is forced to put his hands on Olivia and finger her to achieve orgasm. (Ps: Olivia is his laptop. Just look at you already excited thinking it is another thing. I meant literary orgasm. Tueh! Give your life to our savior once and for all stop collecting it back mbok)
Memory Verse: People like what they like and love what they love, don’t spit on it because you cannot understand or identify with it. This variety is what makes us unique.
I remember the first time I and my cousin Joshua met up with a new friend who drinks,
Wait for it…
ONLY HOT BEER.
As if drinking hot beer is not enough reason to shout Okotie! and sing Aiye Le ibosi oh to, he only drinks hot BIG stout. I know how many times I've wanted to just hold him tight and say bro who hurt you? I just wanted to tell him ‘baba we are your guys. You can talk to us. Please don’t give up on life. Who did this to you? Is it Jennifer? (Because we all know how Jennifer’s can like to break heart eh) Be like Ijebu Garri bro and rise above this hurt.
I could, then, never bring myself to come to terms with why a human being on a good day that the lord has made will say he loves hot big stout which together with hot legend and hot turbo king is the beer of choice in funerals where the bereaved wants to give you a taste of their pain shrouded in alcohol.
But the more I observed him - The way his eyes lit up from inside and became effervescent; the way he allowed the molten magma, sorry, beer, linger in his mouth as he savored it like a lover’s taste; the way I could almost literally see it journey through his alimentary canal and on finding a resting place in his stomach sending up satisfaction which escaped his mouth as belches - I realised this nigga was having the time of his life with this hot beer something.
Not to be the type to miss out on anything in life, I have on several occasions screamed ‘bar man bring me your hottest big stout’ and It is with pain in my heart,for a life well spent, that I regret to announce that it has always tasted like all my life’s bad decisions, like that beer in proverbs 3:16 that they give to people who are perishing. But alas, my friend that has been drinking this thing for years, isn’t even perishing, he is bouncing in the Lord. Amen? Emem.
A female friend of mine is into ankles. Not Ankara, not anklet, not akuna matata, ankles are her thing. A guy or babe with nice ankles turns her on, tickles her to and fro guinea Bissau, and she can give you the entire world if you have nice ankles. I know the question you’re asking. Which one is nice ankle again? Please just ask who is the last person on this our queue of people who don’t know what a nice ankle is and join us. I must say though that her fascination with ankles led me to look at people’s ankles closely. She used to describe how the one of her then beau was shaped liked a pebble and how caressing it brought her immeasurable joy.
She even used to say I had nice ankles.
Brethren because of that, I’ll go to my house and put my leg in front of my mirror and be examining my ankles and even caressing it because no be my own go loss. An ankle connoisseur has said I have good ankles. But the more I caressed it seeking for the pleasure she claims it brings, the louder the voice in my head singing ‘oooooooo oh oh oh! Kolomental’ gets.
Memory Verse: People like what they like and love what they love. Don’t spit on it because you cannot understand or identify with it. This variety is what makes us unique. And don’t let people make you feel any less because you love what you love.
One of my Oga’s at work loves hairy woman. He adores them, exalts their name, gives them glory and praise and is the first person on the queue when it is time for hairy women testimony time.
‘Wetin I dey do with woman wen no get better hair for body?’ you would hear him say.
While demonstrating, you’ll hear ‘Better hair for body, when I go dey touch like this. Dey pinch like this. Dey caress am’. The way he spoke passionately about it, to the disgust of most people not into it, I was wondering, omo be like I dey miss something for this life o. Where the hairy ladies at biko come and zaga me with love biko.
I eventually met his wife and I realized this man was not about Hair theory or multiple choice questions; he had gone and registered for practicals straight. She was hairy and for someone like me who has refused to grow beards, she had a moustache and side burns that i was jealous of. I knew the look on my Oga’s face as he hugged and kissed her; it was Joy. He had made a choice, his choice, and he had even most probably, convinced the woman to be comfortable in her own skin.
Finally, it’s about to go down.
Sorry.
Finally, there was this friend of mine back in school. Tall, team dark skin guy with white teeth and a killer smile that seemed to sparkle whenever they flashed. He walked with an infective swagger that made you just want to walk behind him, imitating him, following him to wherever it was he was going to. Babes were all over him like craw craw but for some reason my friend preferred babes that weren’t exactly eye candy. And I know when people hear something like this, they say maybe he prefers not so fine babes because he has self-esteem issues or some of the other reasons people throw around but I assure you it wasn’t any of this. He genuinely and deeply loved babes that weren’t good looking.
You know the type of babe in movies, that the actor will bring home and show his mother, Patience Ozokwor and she’ll say ‘ehen! nnoo o, You’re welcome my daughter. Please make yourself at home. Emeka can I please see you inside?’ and on following her to the inner room, she’ll burst into tears, wailing ‘Emeka so in the whole Lagos, this is the one you saw. Why do you want to bring shame to the family name?’
Infact this my said friend, on breaking up with the babe who was playing him like ludo, went and got an even more let's just say wonderfully and most importantly, fearfully made babe, ignoring one sister that as our people say, the lord washed his hand and created.
Like that christian song, this fine babe was dying, she was crucified, laying behind a stone, she was like a rose trampled on the ground but she was taking the fall and thought of him above all, yet my man was saying she wasn't his spec.
In my mind i was like imbeside. Which kind of mumu pentium 1, abacus spec oshi leleyi? But in time, and as i did men of suit for him last year as he got married to his wonderfully created babe, i said omo na him know wetin him like because the joy she was bringing my friend, made him glow like up nepa.
Memory Verse: People like what they like and love what they love. Don’t spit on it because you cannot understand or identify with it. This variety is what makes us unique. And don’t let people make you feel any less because you love what you love.
We are all different. Unique even. Same way some like afang, some prefer oha. Some will die for lekpa, my friend Richard, slim as noodles, will never be caught with a babe that isn't ++++. Same way we eat meat after food, my friend baba tee eats his meat before eating his food. Same way some will say they love beardgang, some say they cannot stand such chuku chuku.
It kills me when tolerance takes a nose dive in our interactions and engagements. We are all different people. Live and let live. You don't have to understand why people want what they want, or call it stupid and useless, sometimes they themselves cannot help it and that's how they are
Same way I'll be on my own, sleeping, tired but a voice will speak to me to go on missionary profettic work and I can't control it.
Unless their choice personally affects you in a dire way or hampers the progress of a people, or sets out to hurt people, then you can try to want to influence it, even then, realising that change comes from the inside and sometimes it may just be best to let people be.
Let the hawk perch let the egret Perch
Allow people drink wobile jwice and drop cup.
With love,
Uncle Stephen[Profett]
**drinks up half full cup of wobe juice**
Yes I'm an optimistic guy.