HURT

All she asked.
Came along nicely.
Isoken's boxes ticked
Adesua's dream ending

Bae looked perfect
Fine stallion breed.
Denzel's tender appeal
Rock's sensual stimulant

Her smile returned.
The shine blazed
Pharrell's happy dance
Bey's beach drunk

Cracks appeared soon
Reticent after months
David's evening stroll
Bill's Lewinsky handle

A little farther.
Sharp pricked tongue
"Fat like Monique"
"'Unspicy' like Adele"

Girls night reached.
Chocolate boxes opened
Taylor Swift's breakdown.
Evil Malkin arising

"Gave him all"
"Shit hurts bad"
Bird's death minute
Phoenix rising hour.

Lessons infused up
Fake gold glitters
Abokis #500 chains
Avengers infinity war
#Isaiah50:4
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

ILORIN

The chasm seems deep;
Esin Islam at the far right dancing furiously in a hood,
Christianity at the left being prepped by its coach on the best way to sting like a bee.
Two touted to do battle till the streets are bodies strewn.
Peace thought to hang on to the ledge with provocation looming large.
'More like Kaduna", people quickly chip.

With a cocky smile,
She proves them wrong.
Both 'Esins' at the theme park enjoying a picnic under bright skies.
The older stopping midway through chewing to face Kaaba for a quick prayer.
The younger draping himself in the garb of faith as the evening wears away.

Ilorin
Afonja's divest.
Alimi's quest.
Love reverberating across Taiwo Oke as the visitor watches on from her metallic beast of burden.
Elegance unveiled as the Emir rides majestically at Durbar
Divinity discovered during a steamy amala and ewedu meal course.
Humanity united at the township stadium stands, boli and epa in hand, while watching underdogs Kwara United tear Eyimba apart.

Ilu ilorin.
Ilu Aminat omo Ajao
Ibusun Olushola baba Gbemi ati Bukola.
Ilu Sulu Gambari.
Ilu olola ni ilu Ilorin
#Isaiah50:4
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Esin- religion.

NA OWO AGBARA RE

Long are the hands of Edumare
Extending beyond the entire universe in length.
Saving all those who the eternal eye remains fixated upon.

Owo Jehovah gun gan ore.
Many constants exist but this trumps all
Many lords reign but one Soverign overrules all
Many currencies fail but faith never
Many gods fail, slain with the blade of time, but He owns time.
Many amulets fail, their potency robbed by crazy taboos, by His remains unadulterated as ever.
Many cutlasses become blunt when encountering harder surfaces but none can render my Father useless.

Come.
You that is afar off hiding under the bridge of pain.
You, biting off your nails due to the jittery fear of the future, come.

Continue at
http://www.okontas.com/2018/05/stretch-forth-your-hand.html?m=1http://www.okontas.com/2018/05/stretch-forth-your-hand.html?m=1

LET US

Let us try and describe the indescribable, perhaps the fallen would taste a bit and would be driven to hunger for me.

Let us try to paint the portrait of an invincible muse, perhaps our innocent looking strokes would draw a mini crowd and then the invincible one would reveal Himself.

Let us pass through the city where bullets fly and bodies drop on a minute basis.
Perhaps we could offer a free ride to a few terrified citizens and take them to that ancient city where there are no tears.

Let us try and give some scoops of chocolate to that child who keeps holding on firmly to our hands immediately we leave Wili Wonka's factory.
Perhaps he may run off and call more of his friends and they would be saved from the throes of the dark.

Let us try and sing some notes off the eternal hymnal even though our voices are not pitch perfect.
Perhaps we could get a few ribs cracking with innocent laughter with our performance and then stay back to tell them about the author of the hymnal.

Let us try to conduct a rescue mission for hostages held in the village of pain even though we are not SEALS.
Perhaps we would be able to shoot down the mean looking guards of tears and then ferry the hostage to the waiting helicopter of joy.

Let us try to invite the destitute to the banqueting halls where the choicest meals are served.
Perhaps they would be noticed by the chief banqueter and then adopted as sons that would someday rule over the grand castles.

Let us tell people about love through our actions.
Perhaps their broken hearts would be healed and the yams of laughter restored to the barn of their faces.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

JUST LIKE YESTERDAY (Part 3)
Inspired by Mama Victory


Just like yesterday, Iya Itunu was saving somebody from the jaws of hell.

Three JSS1 boys had walked into Itunu hostel.
Strutting and swaggering in gait as if their fathers were the ones who paid for every brick that built the hostel.
Walking so calmly that some seniors wondered if the rapid dogs of their hostel had lost their bite and now gave welcoming barks to strangers who they had not seen before.

The three boys were Kosi, Anwo and Tunde.
And they could walk so confidently because Kosi had assured them that 'nothing dey happen' in a 2face-like type of voice used in 'Keep on Rocking' jam.

Young Kosi feared no bite from any dog.
For his elder brother and his best friend, Tobi (God rest your soul bro), had graduated the previous year and still had some dogs who loved them.

On a certain visiting day, Chinedu, lovingly called 'Eedu' had come to school and given those dogs the cloth of his younger brother to sniff.
All to establish that the little one was to be untouchable and to be cared for at all costs.

Afterall his elder brother had been an 'efiwe' who had simply eaten the whole Ababio textbook like a sweet cake and had vomitted it successfully during the WASC exams.

An 'efiko' who had once served as the library prefect and knew by heart all the places where the most important books were in the library.
A vital set of information that he had passed to some of his friends and had helped them to avoid being colossal failures whenever the school examinations were knocking at the door like an impatient second wife who lays siege at her husband's door after being denied the pleasures and comfort that come from the spirit atilogwu dance.

Indeed, I thought the presence of pitbulls such as Energy and Tafa would help a poor lad walk through the valley of the shadow of bingos.

Alas!
The young lad was to be shocked like a young electrical engineer who thinks that he can do the work Baba Electrician with 20 years experience just because he has done two EMA.
Much worse, he was shocked to the very bone like a male student who had played the 'ibi lo ma ku si, boya lo ma dele' Mario tune in his head while he wass buying numerous orishirishi for a girl and was then turned down when the time to fight the battle of love in the theater of an Air conditioned room, came.

Indeed, the young Kosi was shocked because the two pitbulls had gone into town and the 'aja-bingos' chose that perfect time to bare their tiny teeth.

What can I say?
When an nkita (dog) is hell-bent on taking a chunk of your sweet juicy nyash (pardon the language), not even a big stone boulder would derail it from its course of action.

That was the case between myself and senior Wande that day.
As the short SS1 man had harbored ill will towards me on account of my senior brother who had used a belt to design the map of Europe, complete with border lines, across the canvas of his buttocks.

The senior had harbored that ill will and had, all through Ramadan period, prayed for a new student bearing the surname of Okonta.
One Okonta, any Okonta would answer the senior's fervent prayer to Allah, who the senior had forgotten, was also called the All Merciful.

Ki a ma fa oro gun.
Let me not be a member of the clan of orators who promise to say a short speech which would not waste anybody's time and then end up giving a sermon on the mount which leaves the bellies of people empty,
The senior had seen me and had been looking for every little opening to punish me.

That day seemed like the day of joy for him.
The igba ikore (harvest season) where he would reap the satisfaction and joy of drawing a map of South America on the fresh buttocks of 'Eedu's' little brother.

"Aburo Chinedu. Come here quick. Carry this chalk, draw a car on the ground and begin to push it to this destination"
He said.
Extending a white chalk which he had nicked from the Economics teacher's stash, to me while smiling mischievously.

Push a car ke!
Abi senior yi ti mu emu yoo ni?
Boya Igbo Osogbo lo ti fa ti oju re se n pon ba kan ba kan.

Had the good senior visited Iya Rukayat's palmwine store inside Ajase-ipo and finished her gourd of freshly tapped African wine.
Or had he sneaked out to join the boys from Oyun High School to smoke the famed Osogbo weed which brings heaven closer to the eyes of the smoker.

That kind of weed that Ogbeni Raufu smoked and decided he, a full grown gomina (governor) would put on a primary school uniform complete with kito sandals and white stockings while convincing his deputy, person mama o, to do the same.

That kind of Osogbo weed which the good Ogbeni takes before he goes to government functions and causes him to open his wide mouth to claim that Aregbe is working despite the fact that most of the civil servants have not been paid their rightful entitlements.

Surely, that was the kind of weed which the senior had smoked.
For he had on a wiry smiley face and his eyes were blazing with red sparks like that of Sango.
Just like the song which Jaywon had recorded for Internet gangstas and keyboard warriors, the eyes of the senior were 'shana-wole-ing'.
A term meaning that they were emitting red sparks just like those of yahoo boys who, not having pity for any of their victims, launch brand new red cars every new week.

"Senior. It is not possible sir. There is no way and no means in the world, either diabolical or natural, that would move that car"
I said after a while of sizing up the mental state of health of the senior.

"I say make you move something and you dey tell me say diabolical. Shey o ya were sha (there is no need interpreting this as most of you have stayed with yoruba people and can easily recognize an insult without knowing the English verrsion)?"
The senior asked, beckoning to two of his friends who belonged to the gang of those who specially hated senior Eedu and had been yearning to treat the Bleep-up of his beloved brother.

Seeing that the foes that assailed omo olope (praise child) were numerous and thinking that Olorun ti n so Israeli (God that watches over Israel) seemed to be taking an unusual nap, I began to look at the problem before me again.

Much like a university professor from Ekiti who momentarily pauses to smoke weed in order to get a fresh perspective of one of the universal mathematical problems he intends to solve.

Much like the garage 'chaman' (chairman) who takes a shot of Monkey tail in order to get a fresh perspective concerning a fight between two drivers which have been brought before him.

Beeni.
I stepped a little backwards and then re-analyzed the question.

"How could I push a car drawn with chalk on the floor"

Evidently I could not use my physical hands to perform the job.
As that would be tantamount to trying to dodge a bullet shot from the gun of dead shot or that old member of the league of Extraordinary Gentlemen who always put on a hat.

Evidently I did not possess any diabolical power to do the trick.
As God had blessed me with primary school classmates who were not little witches that try to initiate their school mates with puff puff or sweet.

Rara o.
If any of them had been witches, the annointing oil from Mumsi and Mrs Popoola along with the annointed bulala of Mr. Edetan would have binded and casted out that devil, Hallelujah?! Amemmm.

I went for the last option then.
Choosing to redraw the car to make it appear to be moving in slow motion.
An action which would have made those seniors pounce on me and beat me like the secondary school boarding house student tries to make eba using the 'fe she lu' method.
A method where you rain down blows on the poor eba to make it strong since it is being prepared with cold water.

Before the seniors could pounce however, Iya Itunu the matron passed by and rescued us immediately.
Ordering us to quickly rush out to help Iya Ajoke carry her loads to her office after the latter had visited the former for a chat.

Just like yesterday, that God is still saving us.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Consider two scenarios

First
______________________

Ifeanyi: Chijoke, take this two hundred naira. Go and buy me rice from mama Dami store.

Chijoke: Yes sir. (Takes the money from him and leaves)

Second
______________

Ifeanyi: (enters into the shop with a baco bag filled with screws for cars. He removes a satchel of cold pure water from the insides of the bag and drinks. He then starts to hum under his breadth while grabbing a plastic chair)
Onye ne nme mma, Onye ne nme mma me kwa la yi ozo.
Olisa binigwe Daalu o.
Thank you my God for everything wey you don do for me today. Chai. So na so that Onye nzuzu for carry my moni run for inside this Lagos wey we dey so. (Shakes head). Boys no dey fear again sha!

Ka zi Onye a (where is this person)
Chijoke!!!
Chijoke!!!
Kobu nwatakiri a je ga cho nwanyi na ebe Dumebi (did this child go to visit the girl that stays with Dumebi)
CHIJOKE!!

Chijoke: (comes in hurriedly. Wipes his lips, stain with palm oil, with his hands while getting his singlet in the way. He casts a furious mini gaze at the little stain and then looks back at his boss)
Oga m, welcome sah.
Biko ewe ni iwe (Please do not be angry). As NEPA take light after I don sell the last market (adding and stressing a vocal Eee at the end of the T), I quickly rush inside make I go eat my morning food for inside.

Ifeanyi: (looks disdainfully at the apprentice)
Ka oge e ge nwe uche eh, Chijoke? (When will you have sense Chijoke)
Ugbolo o ne ka n gwa gi now ki ne mechie uzo anytime e chori ri nri (How many times have I told you to always close the door everytime you intend to eat your food.)

Or do you wish to wreck my market like Solo nwa Aunty Rita (Solomon the child of Aunty Rita) spoilt the market of his oga?
It seems you just want me to quickly send you back to the village where your father is staying. Odi ka gi cho ri je ugbo (It seems you wish to return to the life of farming)

Chijoke: (gets on his knees immediately and extends his hands in a supplicatory pose)
Biko, oga m.
I nor go ever try am again nnam. Abeg nor carry me go village because my mama fit kill me if she see say you bring me back from the work wey I dey learn.

Ifeanyi: Na so you go dey do. Any person wey pass by go feel say you be better person but them nor go know say na me go use my hand take carry ajo nwa (evil child) come Lagos. Na so so chop you sabi to dey chop and when time to sell market come, na so your sleep go dey enter gear five and na that time you go remember say your third to the last rib dey pain you. Biko puo nebaa (please get out of here)

(As the apprentice leaves, Ifeanyi draws him back by the shoulder)

Bia, e get one thing wey happen today for Ikeja and the minute wey I see say you begin show that kain action, na me go run go gather all the boys for this whole Alaba make them neked you, flog your yansh well well, then send you back go your village.
(Chijoke's face immediately turns sour and he clenches his fists while his lips tighten)

Bia, nwoke a.
E cho e tigbu m ife (Come, this man. Do you want to beat me up)

Chijoke: (realizes that his hostile pose would not yield any positive end and then relaxes his fingers)
Nmba oga m (No sir)
I just remember wetin Ridwan, Onye yoruba, say about your pikin, Chioma and I remember say I never answer am well.

Ifeanyi: (looks concerned since the girl is his only child)
What did the boy say about my Ugo nwa?
Tell me this minute or else my ten fingers go do voters thumb print for your face now.

(The apprentice shifts a step backwards)

Come closer to me Chijoke so I can hear the thing you are saying.

Chijoke: Ridwan say him call your pikin yam leg because she get muscle for leg.

Ifeanyi: (his apprehension diffuses a bit since the news was not serious, yet he retains a little angry look)
So wetin you do am as him use him mouth talk that kain thing.

Chijoke: Haaaa oga m.
You know trust me again? Na 'Wozaarrrr' na im be the ringtone wey dey ring for him ear that minute and before him get anytime to process anything, I give am better redial wey make am begin dance "baby pana" for middle of street.
(Flexing his muscles)
All the gym wey I dey carry for morning nor waste oga m.

Ifeanyi: (smiles and clasps the apprentice on his shoulder)
Eeeh heen. Na the kain good news wey I wan dey hear about you be that. (Chijoke grins). Nor be by to dey throw punch with Kamoru wey dey always dey do as if say im fit fight the whole battalion of soldiers wey dey guard Aso rock.
Keep it up eh.
You go quickly run go help me buy rice and meat from Iya Dami sef. Better hunger dey hammer me for here and e go reach evening time before mama Chioma come with the akpu wey she cook.

See eh, Tell that mama Dami make she nor dey put that kain meat wey get oil wey dey turn people into Yokozuna suddenly. Na the one with better meat na im I want make she put.
And make sure say she put stew very well biko.

Chijoke: (runs to the corner of the shop where he carries an empty wrapped in black nylon. He begins to head towards the door and turns back)
Oga m.
Shey na two meat she go put Abi na three meat?

Ifeanyi: (Extends his five fingers towards the apprentice)
Thunder fire your papa dia!
Ewu (goat).
How many market I don sell today wey I go come buy two meat? Come on go an buy the food make you rush come back sharp sharp. You go go DSTV office make you recharge that Zee world channel wey madame dey like.
___________

#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Inside, the stranger and the boy laughed.
Passing and taking swigs at the bottles of chocolate which were on the shelves.

The duo had shared thoughts together.
Had both winced while tasting the gall of their bitter experiences.
Had high-fived each other's palms upon listening to the victories.
And their eyes had both lit up with hope as they shared their future aspirations;
The little boy of his plan to change the world through the medium of a paintbrush;
The older companion of his intent to redeem the sins of all men.

The little one begged for a chance to speak to the fuming crowd outside.
Perhaps they would listen to the voice of reason and twang the violin of peace.
For he had witnessed firsthand the unique touch of the older friend,
A touch which strengthened his lungs and stripped him of the asthmatic tag which the little one wore on his breast.

"Nothing would stop them, dear one"
The Older one said.
Rising to full heights and advancing to the bolted doors.
Ready to give himself to the ferocious crowd who were being fueled by inhuman energy emanating from the fallen Lucy.

They ran Him through with their knives when he opened the door.
Dragging his limp body through the streets and then tying his limbs to two horses which they whipped into a frenzied trot.

All the while, the man looked at his little friend,
Glad He had stripped him of the chains of death which he never knew of.
#Bashorunspeeddialmessage1

Okontas.com

The trailer which had a Ford insignia on it was coming to the city that day.
Carrying a cargo with a brand new Venza placed in it.

Like a seasoned Dangote official, the driver sped on.
Feet firmly placed on the acceleration pedal while he chewed the gworo (kolanut) with a chain bouncing on his chest as the trailer climbed over road breakers.

While his colleagues slept peacefully on the seat behind and snored lightly, the driver licked his lips and smiled at the ease which the trip was going.

The two drivers had been commissioned to deliver the car to a company which intended to give it out as an employment incentive to a daughter of Zion.

One who had prayed and Edumare had answered speedingly.

The lady in question was a graduate.
One who had experienced much pain prior to her matriculation and graduation.

Yet, the good God had been her sole provider.
For He provided her with helpers who were always there at her beck and call.

Just like sister Agape, the 'omalicha nwanyi' who prepared wonderful egusi dishes and always invited her to eat.

Just like brother Damola who always furnished her with the famed garri Ijebu which never failed to lift her spirit to the divine places.

Just like Sister Rita who would always looked after her affectionately while increasing her cupboard with welfaric blessings.

Just like Saint Harrison the great who never ceased to pray for her during the times when the evil one attacked her family.

Edumare had provided her with these great people.
And she trusted Him to provide her with a good job after she had applied to numerous companies.

Then, the enemy came.
The ancient vile snake slithered towards the beloved.
The hedious farmer scaled the fence in order to plant a thorn among the bubbling plants.
The wicked official, donning a green coat, came in with a fumigation tank strapped to his back to spray acid on the young plant of faith.

Beeni.
That demon called Unbelief carried his mat on his head and laid it within the heart of the lady.

It started out as a thought.
One which was fueled by numerous negative voices which expressed themselves with careless abandon in the environment she stayed.

"This country is messed up o. Imagine, see the crowd that went to apply for jobs in the National stadium"
The first voice had said.
One belonging to a roommate who extended the screen of her phone to the daughter of Zion and caused her to behold a sight that made her Dj of Faith to turn down the beat a little.

"Jesu! Did you see those PhD holders and masters holders from London who came to apply for the same job as we did at that interview we went? What hope can a bloody graduate from a state university have in such a situation"
The second voice said.
One that belonged to her friend who had travelled down from Kaduna and was currently brushing her wig while preparing to leave for home the next day.

"You girls should stop complaining joor. Shebi you people were the ones that were forming holy holy while condemning my act of sleeping with the Head of the Human Resources Department of my company when I wanted to get a job there. Make una de dere na, when hunger mama una well, una go realize say even bible talk am say give to Ceasar wetin belong to Ceasar and to God wetin belong to God"
The last voice had said.
One that belonged to her third roommate who had given her accomodation, and whose rent was being paid for by her boss, a married man who still loved to hang on to the console of bachelorhood and play games as a single player.

These voices had worked like magic.
Had soured the heart of the daughter of Zion and forced her to rethink her confession.
A rethink that made her waver and caused the heavenly father to sigh deeply.

While unbelief charged into her heart like a raging soldier and dismantled the last bastion which the armies of faith had built up, the evil one went ahead to sabotage the journey of the blessings.

First, he caused the driver to lose focus,
Distracting the poor fellow with the sight of a massively endowed lady putting on bum shorts who caused the traffic officer to leave his post and also caused most bus drivers to whistle loud with lewd words accompanying the whistles.

The sight, which was rare back in the days and was now common, caused the driver to step on the gas without knowing that he was in a busy city.
An action that made his trailer collide with a small car, killing a family of four and forcing the angry residents to burn the trailer down along with its cargo.

The evil one did not only stop there.
Like a seasoned abortionist wielding the most dreadful set of forceps, he was hell bent on removing any trace of blessings coming towards the daughter of Zion.

He went to the company which had intended to employ the lady.
Sneaked in and implanted a thought into the head of one of the accountants.

A thought that compelled the accountant to divert more than three million dollars from the company into an untraceable account in the Cayman islands.
A place where he could easily transfer the money to other accounts without ever being caught.

The accountant ran away before the theft was noticed.
And the company was forced to shut down most of its operations while shutting down the employment process.

While the daughter of Zion wept, the evil stood afar off,
Laughed wildly while his hands rested on the neck of his beloved demon called Unbelief.

A demon which had done its job and had ensured that the faith baby of the daughter of Zion had been aborted successfully.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

ENGAGED BY GOD
(Inspired by Drama unit PGCF)

"Oluwa gbo adua mi. Eli shikenu. (Jehovah, pay heed to my prayers)
Oba aiyeraye the only being who holds the itinerary of life's journey. I believe in you oba mi Alagbara.
Je ki iyanu re shele ninu aye mi. (Let wonders happen in my life)"
So prayed the Woli trainee as he punctuated each prayer point with a ring from his bell.

That had been his tenth prayer point that afternoon, and he had more than thirty more to go before he could release the angeli to n pin ire (angel that shares blessings) to go and bring his own blessings.

He had been fasting for twenty days now,
Had not tasted any peppery substance for more than forty days.

And had not heard any other sounds apart from the early morning chirpping from brightly feathered birds and late evening croak from the frogs who were surely in mating season.
For the male frogs raised their voices so high and sang sonorous tunes to delight their female kinds who did not reply with the same vigor.

Much like the Nigerian female who replies "kk" to a lengthy composed message of a male admirer who has been struck with the lightning bolt of love.

Much like a Nigerian lady's weak "thank you" reply given to a guy who had expended all his energy, forming Michael Power, while pushing her car to start.

Much like a Hall 2 girl's incensing "thanks" reply given after a hall 3 boy, forming E money, expends all his finance on buying Fresh bite Ice cream and pop corn for the girl and her legion friends.

________________
The Woli trainee had not yet seen any human for three months,
For he was expecting the heavenly caudron to cook up an excellent meal of promotion for him.

Perhaps a dish of transfer to the church headquarters in Lekki Lagos.
Or a sumptuous meal of transfer to become a protocol officer in the church's branch at Manchester, England.

Those were the example of the dishes that the Woli had been waiting to get with his hungered stomach as his plate.
As he had been tried and found faithful in little things.

The eternal cook read the order from his son and smiled;
Transfering two cubes of maggi into the meal which He knew, would be beneficial to His other children;
Transfering a laddle of soup to His mouth to taste the delicious work of His hands.

Then he called the angeli to n pin ire closer.

Beckoned on him to bring a cooler from the heavenly storehouse;
Transfered two scoops of ewedu into the cooler with one tough looking pomo;
Added one wrap of Amala and then sent the angel on his way to deliver the order.

The angel took the cooler and raced down to the doorstep of the Woli trainee.

Choosing to quickly drop the meal and take off, for he knew that Edumare had a way of giving humans another meal apart from the one they ordered.

Just like the way He had given one child to the mother who had earnestly yearned for triplets.

Just like He had called home a set of twins even though their mother had bathed them in anointing oil that morning before they travelled.

Just like He had made a sack letter to come the way of a man who had been 'kabashing' for a promotion letter.

And just like He had stamped that the Woli trainee would be transferred to Aiyelara village in Iseyin local government Osun state.

Indeed, God was that kind of cook and He did things according to His will which was to favour most humans.

Too bad people did not see it that way.

The Woli trainee took one look at the transfer letter and fainted.
Awoke after he had been doused with cold water, took another look at the letter and laughed out loud.

A laughter that reverberated across the room and forced his thirteen year old daughter to wonder if her father had finally gone off the bend.

Just like that time that the Woli had declared that the family would celebrate Christmas with two cows even though they did not have two chicks in their home.
Just like the time when Woli declared that the church population would grow to three hundred even though the members at that time consisted of himself, his wife, his child and one sulking boy who had forced himself to attend the church because he had seen a flower which he intended to pluck.

The Woli trainee took another look at the letter, drew two long draughts of air and shouted "Iro o". (NO)

Standing up immediately as if being stung by a soldier ant which finds the softest portions of the 'yansh' and sinks its piercers inside.

Standing up immediately like an Ijebu man who just recieves an alert that he has been debited the sum of Three hundred thousand when he knows that he sent his son to only withdraw the sum of three thousand naira; half of which was to be used in buying pepper while the other two parts were to be spent on buying tomatoes and garri Ijebu, the human ambrosia which is prepared in local factories.

Immediately, the Woli trainee stood up and began to question if the God he was serving was the true one.
Was He indeed the Agbadagburu who wields the power over all things or was He lord over some things.

Or was it that the church administrator at the central church were jealous of the way which Edumare was using him and thus used this medium to get back at him.

Or had the village witch which he had successful binded up after a fourteen days isegun revival session, unwound herself and was using his destiny to play 'tete' (gamble) again.

Or had the wizards in his village went global, acquiring sophisticated mirrors and latest game consoles with which they were now forming CIA covert operations and now controlling his life.

All these he wondered as he folded the letter and pushed it back into the brown envelope;
Swearing that he would never step his foot on any ground apart from the land filled with milk and honey.
"Iseyin ko, Ise waju ni"
He muttered in finality

Then, like the donkey which a grey haired Balaam rode upon on his way to curse thd beloved apples of Edumare's eyes,
Like the little maid servant whom Edumare used to complete the healing process of the headstrong Military general whose name was Neman,
Edumare opened the mouth of the thirteen year old daughter and filled it up with wisdom that was beyond her age.

"Baami oo.
Ewo ni mu ki inu yin baje? (My father, what makes your mind so sad).
Is it not the same Edumare who called you out of that bush we were, that is now telling you to trust Him once again.
Is it not the same Alagbara nla (powerful being) that caused the rain to fall in a sunny day when the Ogboni priestess dared you to 'pi tu owo re' (showcase your craft).
Is it not the same Olowogbogboro that saved mummy Agba when she said that two thousand witches gathered at the crossroad to take her life after she had successful converted one of their own.

That same Edumare oba Oke is sending you on a task and you are saying that you won't go.

Abi e ti gbagbe ni wipe okuta a dide lati se ise re bi omo araye ko lati gbe ga (have you forgotten that stones would rise to do His bidding if human beings state that they are bigger than Him)

Eni kan kan ko ni gba ise yin se o baami. E suure tete gbera ki a bere si n lo si Iseyin.
(No one would replace you my father. Be quick and pack your loads so that we can began out journey to Iseyin)"

The Woli trainee looked at his daughter that moment and realized the voice which was speaking.

It was that same voice that had told him to rise and dust himself up while he was passed out drunk on the village refuse dump.

It was that same voice that had told him to move without being afraid of any human born of woman and every spirit born of the devil.

It was that same voice that had strengthened him when he confronted the Ogboni priestess on that particular day.
For even though other people thought that he was as bold as a lion, he knew that a tiny drop of shit had escaped from his rectum in fear.

Beeni o.
Koju ija si iya Ogboni!
(Confront the Ogboni priestess!)

The same priestess who had hit a grown man on his head with a tiny leaf and transformed into an ewure jesu jesu (goat that eats yam)

The same priestess who had brazenly walked into the palace, slapped the king's wife for assaulting her page boy and had still being demanded an apology from the king.

The same priestess who knew the coordinates to the house of death, drank agbo with the chief priest of Sango and sometimes ate dinner in the house of the chief priest of Esu.

That was the eyan abami (inhuman human) which the Woli had dared and lived to tell the tale.

And it was all due to oba Oke's help.

"Mo ti gbo oo Olorun mi. Emi o je ipe re ni Igba gbogbo o"
(I have heard your call my God. I will answer your call at all times.)

What did he meet at Iseyin village?
How did God transform this seeming dull dish to a delightful one?

Await the other parts in PGCF drama presentation at Engaged by God.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

#ATTITUDE
(Monday Prompt by mama Victory)

They say attitude is king.
Drum the need to curstey when greeting into the heads of little girls.
Make use of the cane in forcing the little boys to say 'thank you'
And goad all into believing that saying 'sorry' would automatically heal all wounds even though its utterance is ingenuine.

Ore mi, je kin wi otito fun e.

Let my pen serve as the hammer that drives the bitter nail of truth into that flat board of your heart.

Let my words furnish your home with choice luxuries like those from the Orient.

Adorn the doorstep of your mouth with the finest spices.

Spices which serve to propel everyone around you to greater heights.
Spices which, when added to the puddings (character) of other people, would make them the most delicious dishes.
Spices which lights up every dour arena and turns them up positively.
Spices which always points to the ultimate spice that reinvigorates and rejuvenate every other spice.

Spray the perfume of love within your home.
One which causes everyone to put on a smile every time they catch a whiff of it.
One that expels every sad odor from every visitor and firmly remains on their coats when they leave.
One, so strong in smell, that it finds its way into the homes of neighbors around and causes them to steal longing looks from their window blinds.

Hang the various jewelries (talents/riches) of humility within your home.
Jewelries which show forth your riches but does not cause others to feel intimidated.
Golden trinkets to be used in beautifying the lives of every visitor that comes into your home.
Red diamonds to be used in brilliantly reflecting the light of the eternal one.
Beautiful corals to be used in winning arguments with knowledge and humility.

Place a silk carpet of hope within your home.

One which transmits blissful feelings everytime visitors come.
One which causes the visitors to stoop down, feel its texture with their thumbs, and then wish to acquire theirs from the manufacturer (Jesus)
One which absorbs every angry thumping and still rises slowly to its former height.

Let the inspired words be the market guide book which directs you to purchase these goods.

For at the 31st street of Proverbs, there is a shop that sells the best materials for women.
At the store of the John 3:16, you will get the best compass that would help you avoid the deep pits of dispair.
At the autoshop of James 1, you can purchase the most rugged car that helps you navigate through the treacherous roads of life towards that eternal city.
Only then will your picture be put in a frame and displayed for the whole universe in the museum of Hebrews 11.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

HANNAH'S TALE (EPISODE 2)

"Asake mi owan.
Were were bi eji ale.
Meek and lovely as the roe that seeks her morning bread.

What ails your heart this morning Aya mi?
From which direction comes the poisoned darts which have been shot at your heart.

Emi Ige ni o.
Eyan bi Ajayi ogidi olu omo oni konga aji pon
Eyan ti o fe e nisu loka.
Pelu ori mi ni mo fi ru gbogbo emu si odo awon eyan re.

Pelu owo mi yi ni mo fi fa ogede mefa ati garawa epo merin si odo baba re
Pelu owo mi gangan si ni mo fi nu gbogbo ekun iyawo ti o sun.

(I am Ige. The one who got married to you fully. With my head I carried palmwine to your people. With my hands, I dragged the heads of plantain and palm oil to your father. With my hands I wiped away the tears on your face on the day during pre-wedding rites)

Tell me what you desire and it shall be done.
Is it the left thigh of the agbonrin (antelope) that you long to taste,
Tell me and my gun shall immediately cry in the jungle.

Is it the cool water of the Osun river that you seek to drink,
Tell me and I will rush down to the groove where iya Osun stays to collect it for you.

Is it the Ade isembaye of Oyo (ancient crown) that you desire to wear as gele,
Tell me and I will go and lie down, hands upheld high, begging Iku baba yeye (alaafin) to please grant the wishes of my beloved.

Do you desire to fly to the skies, gliding gleefully as the air slaps your face and makes your heart tingle,
Tell me and I will rush down to the house of Abija ogun,
Perhaps the aging man would give me an 'ado' (charm) that transforms a human being into a giant bird.

So fun mi ni nkan ti o fe aya mi, your Ige is eager to fulfill the bidding of his damsel"

These words were uttered by Ige immediately he came out from the bathroom.
For the cry, which Asake uttered, greatly distressed him and broke his flow of thoughts while bathing.

He had been thinking of running for ipo consellor (councillor position) in the local Government he was.
And he was thinking of the best way to broach the matter to the women leader of the market who was also a member of his church.

While he mentally rehearsed every word he would say to her, Asake's cry had interrupted.

Asake looked at her husband and sighed.

How could she put forward the matter that troubled her for Ajani to understand.
How could he fully understand the pang of pain that gripped her everytime she saw children in church.
How could she explain that Iya Risi's taunts were nothing compared to the silent looks which were directed at her in the church were she previously served as a children teacher.

Those looks that were like guns that propped bullets of pain into her heart.
Those looks that clearly stated the fear of the mother's;
A fear that Asake may just steal one of the children and escape with the little one to another country.

She could not think of the best way to present her fears to Ige,
And so she chose to voice out the desire which had tugged at her heart all morning.

"Ige mi. Oko mi ti n gbe mi ni ja. O wu mi kin ri irin ajo lo si ori Oke Orimolade ni ilu Ogbomosho."
(My Ige. The one who readily fights for me, I desire to go on a trip to the Orimolade mountain in Ogbomosho)

Ige looked perturbed upon hearing the request.

Not because he did not know the mountain,
For his family embarked on a yearly pilgrimage to refresh themselves for every new year.

Not because he had not experienced the power of the God who created Mose Orimolade,
For Ige himself had prayed so much one day and had felt a minor tremor beneath his knees.
A tremor that signified that the earth had opened up to swallow his enemies just like it had done to the critics of Moses.

He was perturbed because any trip undertaken with Asake at that time would disrupt every plans he had set in motion for becoming a council.

He had planned on going on a publicity rally with his party into the interior villages of his area;
Organized the relief materials to be distributed to the villagers whose homes had been uprooted by a raging storm the previous week;
Finished adding last minute touches to the speech he was going to present at every village hall, while also perfecting every gesture he would make towards the odo ilu (youths) and elderly ones.

He had also planned on staying at some of the villages for a duration of three days each, waking up to the task of helping them to till their farms and also engaging in other community development programs.
Not like other 'oloshelu' (politicians) who were content with shooting two hour cameos with the villagers and then retreating into their fancy jeeps to zoom off.

"Aya mi. Nitoripe ohun gbogbo ti o n ta e na ni o n ta mi, Emi a se nkan ti o fe"
(My dear, because everything that peppers you also ails me, I will grant your wish)

Upon hearing these words coming from Ige, Asake leaped from her sitting posture to hug him.
Tears streaming down her cheeks as she immediately began to think of clothes to carry on the trip.

While the couple were all lovely dovely with hands clasped around each other's waists and forehead clinking forehead like wine glasses at a cocktail, Iya Risi came in.

While the hearts of the lovers were kindled once more by the fire of sacrifice, the olori jagunda made her entrance.

Battle ready with iro tied and knotted around her waist.
Battle ready with a dam of curse words ready to break loose upon the lovers.
Battle ready with fingers itching to sink deep into any skin, hands ready to pull at the hair of her rival and ready to clasp the belt of her lover.

"Pekele Pekele, Arugbo je gbese, Tani o san? So Ige, you have turned yourself into olori agbe (head of farmers) who can just uproot anything and plant them somewhere else. So you think that you can just tell me to leave my shop and follow you just because this haggard, childless thing (pointing to Asake who immediately breaks down in a fresh pool of tears) has a whim that wants to be fulfilled? So you will just stop Taye Kehin, from attending school for a few days just because your iya ile (senior wife) does not have any child to send to school. Oti o. Mi o ni gba (No, I won't accept)
So said Iya Risi as she stood akimbo, fuming like a creditor who saw her debtor drop 1000 naira into the offering basket, and has now come to collect her money.

Truly, Iya Risi had her own shop which had been set up by Ige and was constantly financed by the man,
For she had a very irresponsible habit of spending every profit she had on whimsical desires.

Just like the time she had bought two bicycles for Taye and Kehinde after their father had refused to buy for them due to the financial commitments he had at the office.

Just like the ever constant Amala and eran ogunfe (Amala and goat meat) she buys for the twins everytime they arrive from school at one o clock.

Just like she buys the ever pricey aso ebi's which are being brought to her shop by excited iya iyawos (bride mothers) who know that Iya Risi was a socialite even though she sold only provisions.

Even though she knew that she would not go to the shop that week because of the weddings she would attend, she had decided that she would frustrate Asake's proposed trip.

"Iya Taye, dakun. Please remember that Asake also consents to most of your desires too.
Ige pleaded.
Knowing it was a futile venture yet still trying his luck.

"Nigbana nko? Se ohun wa je Esu odara ti o tapo si aso funfun mi ni, Abi o je omode ti o ju okuta si inu garri ti mo fe je. Rara mi ni rara o"
(So what? Is she the devil that would throw palm oil on the white cloth I am putting on or the child that would throw sand into the garri I am eating? My no remains a no)
Iya Risi replied, momentarily bit her index finger and then snapped her fingers at Asake.

"O da na. Stay at home then so that I will go with Asake to the mountain"
Ige said, frustrated with begging his second wife.

As he turned his back to leave, Iya Risi extended her hands and dragged him back by the back pocket.
Flames of fire flickering in her eyes like the dragon who was en-route to destroying a city that had destroyed her egg.

"Nibo ohun nlo iwo Arakunrin yi? Who will throw fire to warm my cold hearth when you are gone and who will share my bed when the biting hammattan visits? Surely you did not think of that before did you? Did you!!"

To douse the raging fire and placate the angry goddess, Asake spoke up.

Informing her husband that she would go alone in order to please her junior.
Informing Iya Risi to please take good care of her chickens for the duration of her stay at the ori oke.
Reminding Ige that he was running late for the political meeting which he was to attend that day.
And then settling back to continuing her chore of picking the beans.

To be continued in later posts
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

SE EYAN NI AWON ELEYI SHA

We all may heard of 'awon seniyan seranko'.
Those spirits that put on the form of humans and walk freely among us.
You may have a witness to a scene where a fair skinned lady transforms into a snake.
Or seen a grown man jump over fences effortlessly like a monkey, just because he calls himself a politician and is not ready to stop eating the national cake.

We all may have heard of 'awon ti o laye'
Those ones who hold the scales of nations in their hands and tip it towards a place they like.

Perhaps we may have even seen them already.

Maybe witnessed a young man throw up a white handkerchief which transforms into a knife so sharp that it cuts through the thought of the watcher and thus made you wince even though it did not come in contact with your skin

Maybe you watched as one of the sons of Sango made a rare public appearance, decked in a fully red regalia and spewing forth fire from his mouth like you do whenever the dew falls in the morning and you blow smoke-like air.
An experience that makes you twist your mouth a little and behave as though you were puffing hard on a stick of cigarette.

Maybe you may have even seen Oluweri dance in a bikini themed video shoot;
Shaking her fins vigorously at the cameras while the watchers thought she was a first class product from the University of twerking.

You may have even been a part of the crowd that may have waited to see if a man's kini would return after he complains that a certain man, now fully baptised in slaps, touched him.

You may have seen all the above.
But have you seen those people who are literally going mad for Christ?

Those 'eleran ara' (people) like us who prayed for a ten thousand crowd to fill a venue where forty people hardly converged.
Those men who brought more than one million souls to God within one night.
Those dogged women whose ministries have ministered life to more than 80 million people on earth.
Those sets of men like Idahosa who could conveniently shake a city within a short while and still be remembered everywhere.

My heart shudders when my ears listen to such testimonies.

"E gbe Olorun tobi" is the only sentence which I can muster at such points in time when the most sophisticated diction fails me.

"God is great!" is the silent response which everything around whispers when their ears mistakenly pick up the exclamation I just uttered.

Just like that 'alangba' (lizard) whose head keeps going in a up and down motion while saying, "beeni, beeni"
Just like that soldier ant that momentarily paused in his stride, breaking up the formation for a while just to affirm that God is great.
Just like that mosquito that momentarily stops in her feeding, answers "Yes, God is great" and sinks in her piercers to keep sucking the blood from my sleeping neighbor.

Indeed, God made those same men and women.
And eagerly awaits for me to break free of my limiting thoughts and actions.
A breaking free to embrace the purpose He has called me to achieve.

Aye (Yes)
There are men and there are MEN.

Which one are you?
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Come, dear friend.
Come let us trudge up the high mountains to drink from Hippocrene.
Lace up your boots quick and draw your hiking stick close.
Up we go to the place where muses refresh themselves.

Be ready for the bitter cold that the journey brings.
Fingers stiffened, teeth clattering from the frost that bites.
Cover your head with the warmer of humility.
For knowledge can sometimes be a cold that brings the ailment of pride.
One that keeps the fellow bedridden in the ward of stagnation.

Hold on!
We have reached the vault where the treasures of wisdom are stored.
Bring out your flashlight and read the inscription out loud,
"He who puts away his earthly bride will jump over the eternal broom"

Mystery indeed.
A sacrifice to gain entrance into the joyous presence of the eternal.
A sword to sever the gnarly ropes that holds one captive.
The password to unlock the vault where wreaths of gold await.

Come dear friend.
Come and let us beam our searchlight into the inspired sea of words.
Perhaps we would discover a treasure chest lying on the bed of papyrus.
A chest which contains the vial that gives everlasting life.
#Bashorunspeedialmessage1
Okontas.com

The hot air balloon shot into the bright skies that morning.
Manned by a smartly dressed young fellow who looked in total control.

On his eyes were safety glasses to protect him from direct exposure to the flame.
For the flame was an eternal one which no naked eye could see.

With deft touch, he kept the valve open and heat rushed into the balloon;
An action that propelled the balloon to shoot faster into the air.
For the valve was the holy word that propelled his ship forward on the right course.

As the balloon ascended, he opened the propane tank frequently,
An occurrence that caused the flying object to stabilize at the altitude which would be stable.
For the tank was the moderation which was constantly preached in Philippians 4:5.

Indeed he possessed the
complete tools needed for a safe flight

The Fire extinguisher of humility.
The first aid kit of prayer which he could make use of whenever disasters struck
The topographic map of wisdom to enable him understand the times.
The newly acquired aviation map of thd scriptures to help him understand the nature of the terrain he was flying in.
The Holy spirit who served as his friend and altimeter that helped him focus in the high altitudes.
And a log book which he used to record every beautiful experience which were etched in his memory.
For he held every intention to spread the good news of the person who had given him the balloon to sail away from the barren lands.

The atmosphere was calm for a while.
The young man communed with his friend with much enthusiasm.
The spirit driven fellow feasted on the manna which the owner of the balloon kept for him in a basket.
And the balloon sailed without any hitch.

Then, disaster struck.
From below, the ruler of the city set forward his plans to capturing the escaping renegade.
He armed his archers with the best bows and ordered them to keep up with the volley fire;
A rain of arrows which tried unsuccessfully to puncture the balloon.
Frustrated with the failed tactic, the ruler ordered the troops to bring out the roaring cannons;
Ones that roared and spat projectile balls of fire towards the balloon.
A tactic that also failed for the young man surrendered the piloting role to his friend; holy spirit.

With a loud shout from pent up frustration, the ruler uttered a string of bizzare words that caused his armies to shudder vigorously.
A string of commands that roused the northern lord of the wind from his deep sleep.
A string of commands that roused the kraken and caused it to disrupt the spa session of the southern lord of the winds which he was enjoying at the Atlantic.
A string of commands which injected the western and eastern wind Lords with a hate serum that saw them lock arms in a fight of fury, with the balloon standing in the midst of the hurricane.

The companion of the young man smiled and extended his arms towards the young man;
Beckoning for the rudder which controlled the balloon.
For he was a veteran who had helped most escapees overcome the same scourge of the mad king.

The young man, however, temporarily forgot about his friend.
Terror was clearly written on his face.
Sweat creased on his palms and He found it hard to swallow.
He had momentarily forgotten the banter which he had shared with his companion during the peaceful period.
A talk in which the companion shared, with the young man, the numerous times which He had seen the evil king fail in the attempts to hold escapees.

The young man tried to steady the balloon from losing altitude.
An attempt that was hugely unsuccessful as he had forgotten all about the instruments which were at his disposal.
The winds raged and the mad king was delighted that his plans were working;
The lords of the air were fully performing their roles;
The balloon was descending at an astonishing rate;
The young man was panicking and clinging desperately to a dying pillar of hope.

All appeared bleak.
The king mocked the young one with a tongue in cheek.
An end was coming to the young man's winning streak.
His tank, full of faith, was fast draining with a gaping leak.

Until that moment he let go.
Until that minute he surrendered the control to the other companion.
Until that second that he realized that nothing meaningful could come out of his efforts.

That was the moment, the balloon stopped it's downward spiral.
That was the time the king panicked and the lords of the wind dispersed.
That was the time the leaks sealed up and normalcy returned.
That was the time ascension began once more.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

NIGHT LULLABY

Let me sing you a sweet song while your eyes dilate.
Let me coo into your ears, a quick rhyme before you slip into the fantasy realm.
Let my words be a glider that transports you across the conscious waters and lands you on the banks of the subconscious.

Aye
I will sing you a lullaby tonight.
I will gift you with a song emanating from the vocals of a nightingale.

"Twinkle twinkle little star.
How I wonder what you are:
Up above a world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky..."

Why are you dull dear one?

Oh.

Is it because I sang you a poem from a children's book.
One that lies side by side with the falling London Bridge which no one has made an effort to repair.
One that lies close to the merry fellow who keeps rowing his boat gently down the stream.
One that lies close to those two brothers, sorry, birds that have flown away with the wind.
Or is it because you expected so much and got so little?

Do not be dismayed,
For I have come prepared.

Sleep, sleep dear one.
The vast horizons of heaven beckon on you quick.
To have a little wash in its aphrodisiac waters.
For your soul needs a soothing touch.
To have a little taste of its sweet pomegranates.
For your strength needs to be refuelled for another day.

Sleep sleep dear one
The realm of visions await;
Projectors ready to relay messages from the great seer.
Crystal balls ready to unravel the warped gift of the future.
Bloodied entrails ready to show the hideous faces that lie behind the smiling masks.

Sleep sleep dear one.
Edumare beckons you to another wonderful rest after a stressful day.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Here am I.
Awake around 3:30 in the early morning when the cock's head is still nestled under the hen's feathers.
Abi you think that humans are the only ones that play love?

Awake at a time when Lasgidi is still trying to catch a quick 30 minutes extra nap after being woken by an alarm.

Eyes open like a Lagos conductor looking at the driver counting the monies gathered for the day.

Consciousness alert like a six years old child whose mother sent him to run to retrieve her phone from a pitch dark room.
Worse, alert like a stunch IPOB supporter that walks around a crocodile infested pool.

Countenance angry like an office manager whose advances has just been turned down by one of his workers.
Much worse, angry like a varsity lecturer who has just been told that no student bought the handout which he gave more than two weeks ago.

Woooss wobi.
I am very angry I kid you not.
And the source of my vexing is surprisingly a baby.
A baby's cry to be precise is the cause of my predicament.

The chloroquine-like kind of itch which has been peppering my body since.

The Messi-like kind of foe which has blocked my Neymar-like self from lifting the Sleep Ballon D or.

The little imp which has blocked my way with a cudgel; threatening to break my head if I dare move an inch forward towards reaching the paradise of sleep.

The Nigeria-like soldier whose slap keeps restricting my Agbero self from reaching the high plane after smoking three wraps of marijuana

Ma binu wipe mo nsoro bayi ore, Sugbon bi o n se ta mi ni mo se n soro.
I mean, I am speaking this way because I am pained massively my friend.

Just when the prospective father of Atinuke closes his eyes to sleep, 'Nyaaaaa nyaaa'

Just when bashorun's eyes dilate a little and an image of his smiling muse materializes before his eyes, 'Nyaaa Nyaaaaa'

Just when he lays his head on the pillow designed with the African map drawn by the artist saliver, Nyaaaaa nyaaaa'.

Just as he is about to kiss the bride on the wedding day in full glare of his wife's father with a facial expression that says 'I am the big daddy now', "Nyaaaaa Nyaaaaa"

Kaiiiiii.
Immediately, I jumped up again.

Eyes darting from side to side and envying the heavy sleepers around me.
For they were like Jesus: sleeping peacefully in the boat while the disciples battled an hurricane that threatened to upturn the boat

"Give am breast milk na"
I mutter under my breath.
Praying that the mother is not like that slay queen who is busy shouting on the social media that her husband owns the goods.

Praying that she is not like the mother that keeps giving cerelac to the child and made him dependent on 'omo butter' diet.

Praying that the child would realize my predicament and at least smile and sleep for poor Bashorun.

Iro o.
Nse ni omo yi yari bi oko ti ko ni breaki.
(Na so this pikin nor send like car wey nor get break)

Nse ni omo yi yari bi arewa ti okunrin kankan ko le te lorun.
(Na so this pikin nor send like babe wey we dey chyke wey no wan even reason our mata)

Nse ni omo yi yari bi gende okunrin ti ko gba wipe oyun ni ti re
(Na so this pikin remain headstrong like that boy wey dey insist say nor be im get the belle even though na im be the only mechanic wey dey service the generator wey the girl dey bring come)

Nse ni omo yi yari bi orisa ogun ti o ko lati gba ebo mi afi ori aja.
(Na so dis pikin nor gree like ogun wey dey insist say im priest must sacrifice dog head to am)

In plain lingua my friends, this baby refused all placations and kept raising the tempo of his voice.

I will not lie, I cringe at the prospect of marriage now at this point.

Now I realize that such kind of sounds removes the veil of innocence and cuteness off the child.
A veil which is at the strongest whenever that child's pictures appears on the social media.

Now I realize that these kind of sounds are sure to kill any butterfly which may be remaining in your stomach.
Causing one to wake up grumpy in the morning like that LATSMA official that wakes up daily to the realization that he has to deal with road rage drivers and drivers who go naked trying to resist arrest.

Now I realize that I would have to cut short my sweet sleep whenever that ring tone 'Nyyaaaaa' comes up;
Standing up to quickly go and rock the baby to sleep again, change a wet diaper, or perhaps place a bottle in his open mouth while my eyes rove around sleepy.
Even though the morning weather is raining cat and dogs and the body is doing 'yori yori' one kain, I would still have to race to go and answer that sound when it beckons suddenly like the rapture sound.

Anyways, eni ti o ba je oyin, ko ni beru ija agbon.
Whoever must eat honey must not fear the sting of the honey.

Beeni o.
No one said marriage was going to be an easy ride.
And even though the butterflies of love have all eaten the sense of both lovers on their wedding day, the preacher still shouts himself hoarse into the microphone.

Reminding them that the marriage bed is not always filled with roses.
Neither will 'olowo ori mi' (husband) serve the iyawo with breakfast in bed all the time to compensate for a night well spent.

Sometimes,
Just sometimes.
The alaye would just tumble off without offering the littlest appreciative gesture, but that does not mean that the love has waned.

Sometimes,
Just sometimes.
No certificates of outstanding service may be issued out to you in marriage. But that does not mean it is not a beautiful thing.
#Bashorun

Okontas.com

Note to mothers.
Una dey try sha o.
I shake yansh for una oo.
To dey so patient dey rock pikin to sleep no be easy somtin o.
God know say if na me be that woman at the time, I for don carry cellotape take cover the mouth of the pikin and him hands and leg.
To our mothers, UNA BE THE BEST.

At last, sleep has returned at exactly 5:31am. Baby don sleep las las.

The whole village waited outside the hut that night.
The Shammahs with their jingling cowries attached to their brown tunics, hummed a tune that rose and fell.

The little children craned their heads forward, straining their eyes in order to get the first look at the miracle: each one hopefully become the first to raise her voice and break the good news to the anxious.

Baba Agba chewed his kola in an agitating way even as his hands involuntarily raised his cane and tapped in on the floor incessantly until a touch from his daughter doused his raging thoughts.

Mama Agba fared no better.
Her wiry fingers shook with so much fervor that the alligator pepper which she intend to chew fell down more than thrice.
She squinted her eyes at the sky, vaguely searching for the constellation of the stars that predicted goodluck or badluck,
As she had been an excellent student in the astrology classes which 'iyawo eebo' had taken the villagers in the hut situated close to the Village square.
Though she was a veteran who had witnessed numerous events, this one was special.


The entire village square was as silent as a graveyard that night.
Much more than a graveyard I must say,
For one's ears could still pick up nimbling sounds that came from the ten acre patch of land which had been designated 'ile-iku'.

Sounds which some would say, originates from the ghosts, clad in white overalls, who had come out of their graves to set up their market stalls in preparation for the midnight market.
A market in which the 'ase-ibi seka' (evil) living beings came to buy from.
A market which Asake saw in session, while returning from the stream after a love rendezvous with Alade, and ran mad immediately.
A market which the stall owners shouted, "E wa ra oja Iku o, e wa ra oja lati awon eni ti won ti de odi keji"

Some other people said that the graveyard sounds originated from mice and bats who had gone to eat the raffia covered occupants of the graves as there was a terrible famine in the land.
One which had driven most of the vibrant men and women away from the village in droves; sacks filled with little belongings slung across their backs, forlorn looks at their homes, and hopeful promises to their parents uttered from parched throats and stomachs filled with dry shrubs.

A famine which had turned the one fertile farmlands into wastelands which no animal dared to live or scurry into.

A famine which had immediately caused the cows and other flock to die quickly in large numbers; their decaying flesh filling the air with a foul stench that eventually corrupted the water sources and caused the fishes to die from bloating.

The whole village had performed every action in order to make right their misdeed and appease the heavens.

Wailed for seven straight days at the tomb of the last king.

Walked around the village village stark naked in broad daylight with ashes smeared on their bodies and their voices raised in high pitched cries.

Clasped their hands together and implored the ancestors to forgive any oversight which arose as a result of their carelessness.

Knelt down and jointly chanted incantations as the priests slaughtered the last seven chickens in the village which had been forcefully collected from Adunke, a market woman who had come from the neighboring village to sell her goods.

They had done all these, yet, things remained the same.

Eku ko ke bi eku, beeni eiye ko ke bi eiye.
Their sacrifice, like a little sickly child refusing to digest the pap which her mother forces into her mouth, refused to yield positive response.

Their cries, like a school child who tries to dubiously get money for 'che' 'mis' and 'try' textbooks from a parent who has ascertained the non-existence of the books, yielded no response from the heavenly hosts.

Their gnashing of teeth was ignored by those in the skies like a determined mother ignores the high pitched cry of a sickly child who does not wish to go to the hospital due to the belief of the head strong doctor that injections would drive away every sickness.

Then, on a bright afternoon as the aged men gathered around tables in the raffia thatched tarven where palm wine followed like Belaire and Crystal liquids are sprayed around on wristwatches, and on the floor in the birthday celebration of a young hustler whose format just yielded a positive response in form of a bank alert through Western union.

On that bright afternoon as the old women in the village sat on higher stools and the female children sat on small stools, heads tilted backwards and hair being fashioned into 'Suku' 'pineapple' and other styles that were popular among the 'sisi oge's' from the other villages.
All with the intent of making the children look beautiful in the pose of death and in their first meeting with their makers.
For the little fire of hope, which burned in their hearts, had been extinguished by the failure of the latest sacrifice to woo the goodwill of the gods.

On that bright afternoon, a young maiden, whose beauty was concealed under a bag of bones, received an unusual visitor on her trip to the stream.

She had been walking with friends; gourds in hand, 'osuka' slung on shoulders (cloth used for placing heavy load on the head); conversation centered on the latest friend who had kissed the cold lips of death, the declining throng of suitors and the unavailability of any candidate to ascend the throne due to the unspoken fear that the gods would demand the head of the head of the king.

While they spoke in hushed tones in apparent fear that the wind would scurry to the ancestors with the details of their gossip like a child who catches his elder brother secretly frolicking with a girl and runs to tell their mother with the hope of receiving commendation and possibly getting to watch the thrashing which would be dished out hot, an apparition suddenly appeared and walked towards the maiden.

Her friend, Bisi, who could conveniently throw down any hefty male on any given day, immediately took off like a wind; flinging away her gourd and iro in the process.

Taye and Dehinde, the other two members of the party, screamed out loud and fainted on the spot; Dehinde feigning hers due to the fact that it had worked out for her in more than one occasion.

Just like the time she was walking towards the village square one evening and seeing Yemoja’s child coming out from the river.

Just like the time when opposing warriors had come into the village, cutlass brandishing, at a time when the village engaged their neighbors in a war which spanned for four days.

Just like the time she faced Bisi in a fight and had realized that feigning a faint would be the only option that would enable her retreat without losing face in the community.

The maiden did not run like her friends.
Her heart infused with inhuman courage, she kept standing, watching the celestial being walk towards her and wondering what manner of creature it was.

Was it part of the 'ebora-inu-igbo' (spirit of the jungle) who loved to show up and frighten humans.
Was it an offspring of 'Agbako' who loved to carry around a thousand cudgels with an overbearing hunger to drink human blood and use the skull of its enemies to prepare eba.
Was the creature that 'ebora sunkun-sunkun' who carried mat on its head and wail incessantly; a gnome which people sometimes chose to call 'bush baby'.

The maiden hoped that it was the last,
For she would be able to hijack it's mat and run away:
An action which would definately bring good fortunes to herself for the rest of her life until the gnome came calling for its property.

"Arabirin"
The creature, which was neither a gnome nor Agbako, yelled out.
His voice sounding like the bass emanating from twenty thousand bass guitars being blasted through hundred thousand speakers.

A voice that sent immediate shrills down the spine of the maiden who immediately fell on her knees and bowed her head.

"Arabirin. Edumare n ki e oo" (Woman. God sends His greetings to you)
He said again.
To be continued in later posts
#Bashorun

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OLUWA OBA

Maalu ti ko ni iru, Oluwa oba ni n ba le esin.
(The cow with no tails, the Almighty helps to drive away the flies)
Agbe ti oko re baje, Oluwa oba ni n ba wu ege re.
(The farmer whose cutlass bends, the Almighty helps to uproot his cassava)
Arabirin ti ile omo re baje, Oluwa oba ni n ba tunse.
(The lady whose womb has ruptured, the Almighty helps to repair it)
Aja ti imu re gbe lati aisan, Oluwa oba ni n mu ki o tutu lekan si.
The dog shoe nose is not wet due to illness, the Almighty enables it to be wet once more)
Odo nla ti o gbe lojiji, Oluwa oba ni mu ki omi san lekan si.
(The river which dries up suddenly, the Almighty enables it to flow once more)
Oko ti breaki re ba baje lori ona, Oluwa oba ni n mu ki awon ero de ile ni alaafia
The car whose break fails suddenly on the highway, the Almighty helps it's passengers reach home in safety)
Ajeji ti wo ja ni ole ni ilu ti o tedo si, Oluwa oba ni n pese ogun mi.
The stranger who is robbed in the town he visits, the Almighty helps to provide wealth)
Omo ti opolo re te breaki laarin adanwo, Oluwa oba ni gbe laruge.
(The child whose brain steps on break during the course of examination, the Almighty is the one that uplifts him)
Eja ti o ba sesi be wo ori ile, Oluwa oba ni ti pada sinu okun.
(The fish that mistakenly finds itself on land, the Almighty helps to push it back into the sea)
Arakunrin tin jade ni owuro lati se ise owo, Oluwa oba ni ba toju ile re.
(The young man that steps out in the early morning to look for morning bread, the Almighty helps to protect his wealth)

Mama Agba ti n segi lodo lojojumo, Oluwa oba ni so agbara dotun.
(Old mother who breaks wood into small bits for sale, the Almighty gives her strength)
Baba Agba ti n se awa oko fun awon oga nla, Oluwa oba ni mu ki oju tana bi halogen.
(The old man who drives for a living, the Almighty helps his eyes to shine bright like the Halogen lamp)
Aunty wa ti n se ise agbejoro, Oluwa oba ni gbeja re ni asale.
(Our sister who is a jolly good lawyer, the Almighty helps to fight her battles)
Omo ti agbako de ba baba re ati iya re ni ojo kana, Oluwa oba ni se olutoju re.
(The child who loses his father and mother on the same day the Almighty takes care of him).

Gbogbo enia ti n be ni gbogbo aye, ati ikawo oluwa ni gbogbo wa ti wa.
(For all who are resident on earth, the Almighty created us all.
#Bashorun

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Ore mi ana su mo ibi (Come close my friend)
O ni gbolohun oro ti a fe so (there is a word I wish to tell you)
Ma je kin tan e o adanwo nla mbo ore.
Do not be deceived by the journey of my style which often begins with a step into the valley of dispair and ends in the castle of delight
Neither think that the roses would blossom at the end while the sky opens up to rain down blue and red Popsicles that are finger licking good.

Ore mi ana sun mo mi mo wi.
I can see you receding.
Gently stepping back in a hasty retreat from this 'nyama-looking' jello which I have brought.
For it is not your usual type of poem,
Or article, or letter that you have always expected from the bleeding pen of Bashorun.

Nevertheless, emi a so fun e o (I will tell you)
Tell you to brace yourself for the next phase which you are about to step into.
For the adanwo (challenge) is meant to unsettle you and drag you into a pit of dispair.
Tell you to clench your fists and take it in like an akonni.
For the adanwo is meant to test your resolve and your profession of the creed of Integrity.
Tell you to listen to the unspoken words which raise their voices in gestures.
For within them will you see the tiny light which would lead you straight to the lighthouse.
Tell you to expect disappointment from those you love.
For they would dispair like Sisphus; having the heart to help but unable to due to lack of resources.

Agbala ojo ma ro ore mi.
Sugbon ma foya nitoripe Edumare n be ni tosi.

Though the hearth may grow cold and no wood nor match may be in sight,
Fear not because His presence would give the heat.
Though the most luxuriant leaf withers and falls to the ground in a final farewell,
The Vine of life would cause a more fruitful stem to burst forth.
Though the huge Iroko may fall and cause a blockade on the path to the stream,
He would create a path within the thorns and thickets and lead you to draw from the ocean of life.

Beeni ore mi.
Bi ale ba pe titi, owuro n mbo.
Even though the night may bring with her unspoken horrors, like a uniben girl who is invited to a date at Mat-ice, something good is coming.
#Bashorun

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SMILE

Smile for me.
Part the doors of your mouth and let those 32 inmates rejoice.
Daily you keep them shut up in their dark damp cell.
Periodically letting them show when you ferry food chunks to their cells.
Periodically letting them see the light whenever they are called to perform the manual labors such as opening of cans and trips to the doctors.

Smile for yourself egbon.
For you have turned into living corpse already.
Douring the atmosphere of everywhere you step into.
Waltzing into an opera and turning the whole place into a graveyard.
Hatred has transformed your heart into tar.
A dark and oily matter which causes anger to spark up at the slightest provocation.
Pick up the broken shells of your exterior oga anyi.
Those shells broken with the club of grief and disappointments.
Gather them and take them to the house of the master potter at No. 2 heavenly street, near the bank of Grace and very close to the bustop of brokenness.

Smile for your family nwanyi.
No one likes this mascara that you put on every morning.
Everyone now fears you.
The Lord of the house now turned into the God of war.
A permanent scowl lying on your face like a dreadful Rotwiler watching over its master as she withdraws from the automated machine.
Just because a trashy male broke up with you.
You are angry simply because Edumare oba Oke hauled away a hiccupping car from your driveway.
You curse the very earth because Edumare tried to show you how to value yourself more.

Smile for Edumare ore mi.
Gaze upon the works of the Grand designer and marvel.
Marvel at the inner beauty of them all and be joyous.
Be joyous because He created you with the purpose of dominating over all.
Over all stumbling block He has given the strength to jump over.
Over every knockout punch, He has instilled the strength to rise.
To scale through every fiery hoop and emerge victorious like Himself.

Smile nwanne: All is not lost.
#Bashorun

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I could tell you to trust in me.
Tell you, in my baritone voice, that I would take care of your fees.
Tell you to confidently take the jamb form without any fear of tomorrow.
Tell you to forgo any thoughts of going to stay under a master with the purpose of learning a skill.
Tell you that you are precious to me like my children because you are my brother's child.

I could tell you to wait for me.

Tell you to bring down the lever and shut the gates of your heart.
To keep loving a fragment of me embedded in still pictures and in short memories embedded in your mind.
To keep remembering the taste of our first kiss at Elegushi beach while the waters washed on our bare feet.
To keep remembering the sound of my infectious laughter whenever you ticked my ribs.
To never forget the sight of me bending on one knee, placing a diamond studded ring in your fingers and hoisting your waist high while our friends laughed hysterical.
To never forget that I swore on everything to make you my queen for all ages and to make your home, my lair till I die.

I could tell you to wait for me.
But I will fail you at most times.

Fail you because of the fact that I am a human being.
One that may not be able to control every circumstances that occurs to me.
One who can easily be swayed by the changing social and economic tides that rock the nations.
One who can easily replace the good memories with new ones.
One that can easily fall into the snare of other people's even though I have taken the best precautions.

I could tell you to walk with me.
But I am afraid that I will run away when you need me the most.
For a mortal man cannot carry another man's load on his head and drag his by the hands.
For a mortal man cannot open his eyes wide and watch as another man brings a needle close to it.
For a mortal man cannot in good faith cook a pot of pounded yam for you while he sets a bowl of garri in front of his children.
For a mortal man cannot in good faith leave his wife and kids in crocodile-infested waters while he ferries you across to safety.
For a mortal man cannot in good faith pray that you take first position in class while his child languishes in second position.
For a mortal man cannot raise his fists to fight a military man for your sake if you are not related to him or have anything to offer.
For a mortal man will be content with feeding you but will cringe at the thought of loosing his job just so you can be employed in his firm.

Wait on Jesus instead ore mi.
Him, who can never leave or forget you at anytime.
Him, who has loved you and will continue to love you for eternity.
#Bashorun

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The little titan ran into Zeus's home and stole the eternal light.

Then he ran.
Madly zigzag-ing through the maze set up by the deformed god of all inventors, Hephaestus.

Looking back periodically to observe the pace of Apollo and Artemis who were both hot in pursuit.

He heard the growl of the three headed hound from Hades and quickened his steps towards the palace of the earthlings.

The sirens, the half sleeping Hypnos and Aphrodite raised their voices to the highest pitch and sang a tune composed by the wielder of the thunderbolt.
All with the intent of lulling the thief into a deep sleep.
Yet, the runner stuffed his ears with reeds from the Nile and kept on his course.

The earthshaker, Poseidon extended his trident and sent a huge wave to drown him.
Quickly marshaling all the Cyclops and the guardians of Atlantis to run and capture the runner.
Still, the runner evaded all darts shot at him and glided on the wave like an experienced surfer.
All in a bid to reach the land of men and give to them a priceless gift.

He arrived Greece in time.
Stepped on the shores of the ancient city and thanked the fates for weaving a very durable fate for him.
One which could not be easily snipped in two by the scissors of the gods.

The soldiers saw him and marveled.
For he was a sight to behold and his gift was priceless.

The king threw a feast for three days straight.
One in which wine kept flowing in excess and the hunters kept supplying the lamb roasts.
On in which the damsels kept dancing and the pipers kept crafting new eulogies.
A feast which ended on the third day.

Then, amnesia came upon the humans.
The fragrance of forgetfulness warfed through the air and was inhaled by every citizen.

The wells of thanks dried up.
The king remembered the lessons on the politics of the court and immediately threw out their saviour.
For the people had started whispering during the feast and the walls had picked up the gossip and promptly relayed it to the king.

The citizens forgot that they lived in darkness once upon a time.
Forgot that the saviour had brought the light which they had craved for all their lives.
Forgot that one who has done good deserves all the thanks at all periods in time.

Their saviour was forgotten.
Left to die in the streets and not welcome into their homes nor given a drink in the tarvens.
Left to fend for himself and not given any leftovers at the bakeries nor given entrails at the butcher's.

They had simply exhibited their humanly flaw.
And the titan was left frustrated and angry.
Had he known, he would have pleased his makers and not depended on the goodwill of humans.

His last song rang thus as the large crows circled overhead; awaiting his final sigh.

Man o man
Most miserable of all creatures
Cursed to strive for all masteries.
Yet, he comes to a bleak realization that all fails him.
Cursed to ride on treacherous waters in search for hope.
Driven by a luckless tide.
Only to land on the shores of Ogyia and be heartbroken like the famed Odysseus.

Man o man.
Content to forget the ephemeral nature of the brain, he follows a dreadful path.
Striving to please his mates with all manner of speech and trickery.
Only to be stung by the dart of loneliness after the whole parade.
For life is a circus.
One in which spectators keep moving around; content at one moment with the elaborate display of an actor and discarding that actor at the next minute.
Life is lonely,
One which only makes sense when a human spends time with the supernatural who values him.
#Bashorun

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