₦airaland Forum

A PRAYER FOR YOU
Today is my twin brother's birthday (Olumide Bankole) and I wish to offer up prayers for everyone.

Ojo rere ni oni
(Today is a good day)

Today I offer a prayer to God most high for everyone.

That you will never fail nor falter in your life efforts.

Like Manchester United, even though your efforts may not be scintillating like the rest (Liverpool), you will end up with many excellent laurels in your cabinet.
Like Manchester United and Europe, even though three doors shuts in your face, one little door will always present itself for your usage in Jesus name.

Like Zlatan Ibrahimovic, you will always continue to shine brightly even though critics have written you off in Jesus name.
Like league glory and Antonio Conte, success shall follow you around like a rabid dog in Jesus name.
Like Zidane at Real Madrid, people shall be perplexed at your success even though you are not experienced.

Like Messi to Barcelona, you shall be invaluable at every season.
Like Kante's bus stop, God himself shall put a stop to every evil thing that comes your way.
Like Bonucci, Barzagli and Chiellini (Juventus defenders), God Himself shall defend you against any 'Messiless' devil that tries to plant seeds of death in your home.

Like Banky and Adesua, the news of your union shall shock the world and elicit prayers from everyone.
Like Efe the 'based on logistics' guy, that event that will change the course of your life, is coming.

Like Royco Maggi, your life will radiate so much 'Adun' (sweetness) that everyone would want to be near you.
Like 'gele' and its wearer, you shall be more elegant than all your peers in Jesus name.
Like an oasis in the desert, people shall come from all points to be nourished by you.
Like Santa Claus ('Fada' Christmas) to children on Christmas day, good things which you did not work for will come your way.
Like Bill Gates, I pray that success will not friendzone you like girls to Jerry Weajs.

Like one who is married to a baker, bread shall never cease to appear on your table
Like one who is married to a poultry farmer, chicken shall never be empty in your pots.
Like one who is married to an accountant, no loss shall be recorded in your life
Like a child born to a parent who is a principal, you shall pass every life exam because the questions will be shown to you beforehand.

Like Joseph to Jacob, your life shall continually bring much joy to your parents.
Like Esther, your life shall continually bring much joy to your people.
Like Abraham, God shall bless your generation because of your obedience.

Shine on today and everyday.
God has got your back always.
Bashorun loves you.

#OLUisONEtoday

VENT

I want to rant
Not necessarily at a government official who forgets that the people are meant to be served and not scorned
For those who rant have an habit of never being physically present to voice out their opinions.
Instead pulling out their guns and thumbs on twitter and firing rubber bullets through 140 worded tweets

Not necessarily at a billionaire who in his own way couped people into a house and let their lives play out on the TV sets of other people.
For majority of those who speak out, are often those who tune in during the shower hour.

Not necessarily at the slay queens who flood my timely with mind blowing nudes accompanied with thought provoking quotes.
God knows most people who criticize them end up 'sliding into their DMs (chat), offering them huge amounts to fully uncover that which is left to the imagination and unveil that which would bring untold pain later.

Not necessarily at the pastors whose private jets are longer than the bet slip of an ijebu man hoping to win 20 million naira with 10 naira.
For God has told me never to judge any of them, or even anybody. As He is the 'Ari-inu-ri-ode', the God who looks on the inside and the outside.

I have come to rant at myself.

At my inability to complete one item on the long list of 'do's' which I had joyously penned down at the beginning of 2017.

At my inability to love myself the more, always choosing to project what the world thinks is beautiful.
Choosing to rock a heel when my legs screamed for flat shoes.
Choosing to gulp down the mac Dowell alcohol, even though my insides screamed "NOO"
Choosing to stay and offer some words of gossip when my head told me that it was fruitless.
Choosing to rock designer brands even though my purse was as dry as the soil of Sahara.
Choosing to follow their ways even though God's way is right.

I have come torant at myself.

At my inability to be patient in building from the scratch.
Having this wonderful idea shoved to the corners.
Racing to work 8 to 5 jobs for others all to recieve a higher allowance.
All because I cannot wait to own a ride like others or get a girl like others.

At my inability to see the future.
Racing after every skirt and cash that flashed before my eyes.
Blurting out choice curses and damaging words at the 'spur of the moment'
Never fully comprehending the hurt my actions brought and the ripple effects my stone caused.

At my inability to stop the flow for once.
To shut down the phone for some hours and commune with the most high.

Yet I cry, for lack of real friends because a thousand likes on Facebook did not equate a thousand friends.
Hell! A thousand likes does not even equate ten true friends.

I have come to rant at myself today.
If I do not self examine my life, WHO WILL?
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

MADAME KOI KOI 2 ( A TRIP DOWN FGC IKIRUN LANE)

This piece is dedicated to Ajetomobi, Mrs Shittu and all others who have left our shores.

E sun re o, titi a ma pada ni Odi keji.
Sleep well until we meet at the other side.

That other side where we would eat jollof rice and egg everyday and have no fear of any senior forcefully taking our food.

That other side where the Tuck shop is filled with basins of all types of meat and delicacies.
One, which we would not have to pay a single naira to eat in because our creator would give us free pass through His love.

That other side where we would not have to jand into town to get the best goodies; carry expos under our singlets to pass any exams; and make deals to fully enjoy the meals placed before us to eat.

We will meet at that other side.
__________

So I continue where we left off.

While Rasak prepared to turn in for the night, I remembered that I had forgotten my wrapper at the tank area.

Which student could do without his 'aso ibora' (cover cloth)?

That twelve yards material that one wrapped around his body to protect himself from the wicked cold.

That pricessless jewel which prevented mosquitoes from settling down on our bodies with spoons and forks and reciting 'for this food we are about to eat, we thank thee o lord'

And that priceless gift which helped to protect our seniors as they took out their dirty magazines and read under the covers.

How did I know? You ask.

I had once caught senior Fola reading one.

That day had been a Thursday and I had ran into the red house hostel hoping to surprise my good friend Fatoki Osfeam Shola.

As I approached his bed, I saw a figure in a sitting position underneath a wrapper.
Like those rats that ate students toes and blew air to numb the pain, I took careful and silent steps towards the bed.

With a strong force, I pulled away the covers and Voila!
There was the good old senior,
Eyes red from gazing at the still pictures of half naked ladies.
Zippers open from doing 'God knows what' on the sheets of the bed of my good friend.

Ah!!
The good senior beat me black and blue that night.
Forced my frail body to hang on the wardrobes and turned me into a makeshift okada driver.
For he ordered me to go into a squatting position with my two hands outstretched and my back against the wall.

With hot slaps, was I rewarded everytime I tried to stand up.
And with the cracking of a leather belt on my back, was I rewarded anytime I tried to explain to other sympathetic seniors who did not know what the good ol' senior was always doing underneath the wrapper.

________

I needed to go back outside and so I called on my good friend to escort me.

"Rasaki o. Please come and follow me to carry my wrapper outside please." Gently tapping Rasak at his head and poking him at the ribs.
For he was very tired and already sleepy.

Poor guy who had done extra labour that day and had cut the whole grass behind SS1B class.
For he had 'stabbed' the Wednesday labor day due to the theft of his cutlass and hoe.

'Apa Ijoba (the long arm of the law)' had caught up with him on Thursday which is today.
As the labour prefect had chosen the exact time, when Rasak and other students were in class, to storm in and retrieve offending and 'staboo' students who had made themselves unavailable for the work of the previous day.

"Ohh ooo. Kosi go and get it na. Why are you disturbing me?" Rasak said as he shifted his sleeping position to lie on his left side which was directly opposite me.

"Oya. I will give you half of my jollof rice tomorrow and also half of my egg."

These, I begged Rasak with at that moment.
Ready to sacrifice part of my meal the next day so he would join me to face any 'ojuju calabar' which may emerge from the bushes at that period of the night.

At least the horror may see both of us and run away.
Or at worst, I could easily outrun Rasak in a race.
Using the poor fella as a bait which could safeguard me first,
So I could easily rally other students to come back and search for him, If only I reached home first.

Rasak took the bait; got up and jumped down from the upper bunk.
While he slipped on his slippers, he made me promise to redeem my pledge the next day.
For I was a serial cheat at fulfilling pledges.

Always choosing to enter the dinning hall very early to eat my food before the other student (who I had made deal with) came by.

A practice, I continued until I made a deal with Izuchukwu himself.
The big eight-pack chested man whose slap reconfigured my head and made me become faithful once again.
For I had eaten the Monday night eba and fish which I had pledged to him after eating his Saturday morning's Akara and ogi.

Ah! Akara ati ogi ma dun gan o.
(Beans cake and Pap are sweet o)

That wonderful meal that always tasted better because the fear and tension, which always came with saturday morning inspection, had died down.

That delicious meal which we loved because it marked the true beginning of a students weekend.
For you could not count Friday as the beginning of a weekend.

Rara o! (No o)
Not when your mind is thinking of how to fetch water and safeguard that water and your brooms till the next morning.

Not when you are thinking of a billion ways to avoid a visit of dongoyaro cane on your buttocks the next morning.
Because just about anything can make the senior, with the itchy palms, erupt in anger.

Not when you are thinking of the best way to 'dust' the cane which would surely come to your buttocks.
For if you had 'stabbed' (avoiding morning work) any work during the week, you should expect to be caned the next day.

Worse still, if you were like me, the legendary 'staboo of life'
Just begin to act like Michael Scofield, and map out escape routes to take the next morning and hiding places to stay till inspection is over.

Rara o!
Friday is NOT the beginning of the weekend for any boarder biko.

____________
"Don't worry Rasak. I won't fail you tomorrow. I promise" I replied.

Truly intent on keeping my promise and making a mental reminder to be the first person to arrive at the dinning hall the next day.
For this would mean that I would serve the food and have the opportunity to heap my plates with big food and transform my plate into a mini kilmanjaro.

Perhaps, I may even get lucky and get to eat the food of an absentee student.
Stolen waters which always tasted very sweet in the mouth of the drinker.

Like Saraki (the Senate president) being escorted by many senators to the Code of Tribunal court, I walked boldly to towards the tank with my friend tagging along.

Like a rat who just saved a tiger from a trap and has become best friends with the tiger, I dared any cat looking demon or 'ojuju' to come outside.

Like Nnamdi Kanu after being granted bail by the court, I picked up my wrapper from the pump and STAYED back for some minutes to drink water to my satisfaction and wash my mud stained feet.

Afterwards, myself and Rasak went back to the hostel.
I, in front, strutting while devising the best way to make Mr Ojurongbe's pocket cough out some money for me even though my pocket money had finished and the visiting day was in a week.

Rasak, at the back, wobbling and dragging his feet lazily while thinking of the heap of jollof rice and egg which would fill his plate the next day.
For he had already made a deal with Bode the previous week, sacrificing his Friday 2 fufu and meat to Bodsman for Wednesday's jollof rice and egg.

Immediately we reached the hostel, Rasak slumped on the bed and fell asleep.

On the other hand, I kept on perfecting and memorizing the lines which I would say to Mr Ojurongbe the next day ; and rehearsing my manner of approach which had to possess the dual nature of being dramatic and pitying to the eyes.

While I was rehearsing, the hostel doors creaked and a gentle wind blew in.

Like a sharp police officer counting the daily collected twenty naira notes, my eyes immediately bulged and darted from side to side.

My ears straining to listen to any little sound that may indicate the presence of an extra terrestrial spiritual being in the room.

Nollywood films had taught me that the doors normally swung hard when spirits entered.
So I took extra notice of the actions of the door for next few seconds.

Hollywood films had taught me that ghosts hated salt,
So I drew the salt I had stolen from senior Fola's locker closer to me.

The wind grew stronger by the minute and its whirling sound was very audible in the silent night.

In unison, the doors began to fling wildly and my nollywood sense told me that 'they' had arrived.

What did I do next?
Stay tuned for the next episode.
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

NYSC CAMP EXPERIENCES (EPISODE 2)

"Really! I received my call up letter too and I am going to serve in Imo state" she said.
Ecstatic with the knowledge that her journey would not be boring since a kindred spirit was in the same bus with her.

A gala seller interrupted our conversation that moment.

Offering us Nigerians unofficial fuel of gala and casera for the price of 160 naira.

Telling me to get one for myself and this 'fine nwanyi oma' who I was talking to.

"No thank you" I replied her.
Choosing to face the road ahead and continue my fantasy about camp life.

The journey towards the camp was very uncomfortable.

One which the roads were filled with potholes and orchestrated a very bumpy ride.

The chief culprit of these potholes was Abia state.
God's own state which bore semblance to a state very close to hell.

The only state where billboards with the slogan 'Ochedo is working' were much more than the physical evidence of development itself.
For the roads were in a state of 'dismal-bismal' and 'incomprehedably-terrible' as the good Honorable Patrick Obayiagbon would put it.

The road to the camp was very uncomfortable my friends.
For my newly met 'mammy water' friend kept on releasing missiles in the bus.
Choosing to fart every five minutes as if she wanted us to appreciate and applaud the pugnant (terrible smell) of the last one.

Apparently she had visted mama Onyinye stall before the commencement of the journey.
'Fine and Behind' slay queen who had ordered for 300 naira beans, 50 naira plantain and two eggs.

Apparently she had chosen not to put on the Jean she intially planned to wear on the journey.
Choosing instead to put on a mini skirt which could easily 'wound' any guy and guarantee a free ride to her orientation camp.

A bad decision it turned out, because there was no thick clothes to restrict and reduce the strong smell coming from her beans and egg induced farts.

The road to the camp was very uncomfortable my friends.

For a heavy rain forced the occupants of the car to come down and push the car out of the muddy place it had stopped in.
A heavy downpour that brought down a tree in the middle of the highway and warranted the car to divert into the jungle.

A detour that elicited 'die by fire' prayers from all the occupants of the car.

For we are in Nigeria my friends.

A country where a detour into the jungle most times means a visit and imprisonment in a herbalist shrine.

One which the escapees always gave loud sounding 'Praiseee da lord' testimonies in church the next Sunday.

We all prayed that day.

Calling on the God of Elijah to send down fire and burn every kidnapper on the road.
Calling on the God of the Israelites to first kill and then dismantle the carcasses of every blood sucking demon which was waiting for us on our paths.

________

At long last, we reached our destination and I came down and boarded a smooth ride to Nsit-Atai itself.

The okada man dropped me at the gate of the camp.

Insisting to be paid the sum of 600 naira for a short journey of 5 minutes.

"Moku. Mogbe. Modaran"
I shouted upon hearing his fee.

I had left home with about 15 thousand naira.
The trip down from Onitsha had cost me 3 thousand naira and a carload of 'die by fire' hoarse prayers.
Now this man wanted to collect 600 naira more.

What would be my fate for the twenty days which was remaining?

With which money would I use to do 'baba for the girls' with at the popular mami market which I had so much heard about.

Those corper girls who, I heard, never ate the kitchen meals and close to cling to boys who could be coaxed with alluring smiles and rewarded with thirty-second hugs.

Those corper girls who were so Behind that 'mama Dasola's' kitchen delights would never suite their taste.

With which money would I sustain myself during camp?

For Leke had told me that I would need a lot of money to slim fit the baggy green khaki which the authorities would give.
A slim fitting that would increase your 'cuteness' and drastically reduce the content of your wallet.

"Walahi dem go cut your head for dia" had been Leke's final assessment of the mami market babes and slim fitting tailors.

Having no other choice, I paid the already agitated bike man and began to drag my luggage towards the gate.

Ayaya Akwa ibom had welcomed me with closed hands and a face that was not smiling.

As a dragged my little belongings to the gate, the police officer's voice rang out in a scolding tone.

"Bloody Otondo. You nor go run come clear abi you want make soja come ginger your swagger small for dia?"

I did not understand a word he said.

How was a soldier going to ginger my swagger?

Would he help me carry my bags in the spirt of 'Espiri d corp'?
Or would he buy me a round of beer over which we would laugh and share banter like fellow men in khaki.

Then it hit me.
Leke's warnings resounded in my consciousness and elicited a mad dash towards the gate.

To ginger my swagger meant I would be told to frog jump.
Being forced to carry my belongings on my head and serve some corporal punishment which my frail body could not take.

While running towards the police officers who were to check me in, the hour hand clocked six and a trumpet sound rang throughout the length of the whole camp.

Jesuuu!!

The last day trumpet, which my Sunday school children teacher told me about, had sounded.

Jesus had come at last to take His own and put to shame the critics of two thousand years.

Tears almost dropped from my eyes then.
Because I knew I would not make it to heaven.

Not with the kind of wicked thoughts which was firmly implanted in my head at the moment.
For I had planned to 'do and undo' within the space of this twenty one days in no man's land.

For my backpack contained two packs of condoms which I had planned to protect myself from some slay queens who, Leke told me, had come to camp and service to get a husband.

"Them wan carry pikin and certificate go house as evidence of service" had been Leke's assessment of those set of slay queens.

I did not know then.

That condoms could stop sexually transmitted diseases and NOT sexually transmitted demons.

While still walking and mopping at the thought that rapture had taken place and left me behind, I noticed the police officer's stand up straight.

All activities seemed to cease as the trumpet continued to blow and I wondered if the bible had added a new twist to the rapture description.

"You bloody baga, stand for dia right now"
So ordered a big burly man who wore white shirt on camouflage trousers.

An order I respected immediately because I immediately recognized the uniform.

To be continued in later episodes.
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

THE MIDNIGHT DUEL.
(Inspired by PGCF drama unit)

Chief Priest: (chanting incantations) Laalu ogiri oko o. Abaniworan ba rida, olokiki orun.

Elekun n sukun, laroye n seje. (The one who weeps, crys out water, Esu cries out blood)

Esu ma se mi, lo se awon eni ti o fe ba o du ipo re (don't jinx me devil, go and jinx those who wish to contend with you)
(He pours palm oil on the black Esu statue and proceeds)

Beeni.

These people have no idea who they are dealing with.
So they wish to come and displace Esu.
So their legs are itching them so bad and death is sweeting them so much that they wish to come and displace ogun (he laughs in a wicked melancholic way and runs to the iron statue at the left corner of the shrine.

Ogun Lakaye ni awon omo yi fe fi sere (It is Ogun these children wish to play with).

(Brings out Dane gun and feeds it with gun powder 'etu' while chanting eulogies to the god of iron)

Ogun Lakaye osin mole. Olomi ni le, ti o fi eje we (He has water at home yet chooses to bathe with blood). Ogun da mi lohun ni loni o.

As I shoot at this mirror, odi orun gbere (it means heaven forever) because no one born of any woman can remove the load from a hunchback. And there is no one, born under the heaven, who can fight with water.

Lakaye oooo (shoots the dane gun and a scream erupts from the mirror; blood flows from the cracked space and the oluwo laughs out loud).

He he he.
Ose o ogun lakaye ti o je ipe mi (thank you Ogun that you answered my call).

These children will now know that it is only a foolish person that decides to pull the penis of a mad man without expecting the fight and bite of that same mad man. They will know that there is different between igbá (calabash) and igba (two hundred).

(Curtains are drawn and the scene changes to a church)

(A man lies on bare concrete, choking and spewing blood out at intervals. There is a visible gun shot wound at his abdomen and he writhes in obvious pain. He is surrounded by a group of four- made up of two sisters and two brothers)

Brother Niyi : (singing while visibly sweating)

Agbara Esu da? ni ibi ti Jesu gbe n joba, agbada esu da? Ko si o, o ti wo (where lies devil's power where Jesus is, it is nowhere because it has fallen).

Brethren gather together and let us begin to call on His name.

(Laughs out). Eledumare oba nla (The big God), baba mi owo kembe re ibi ija. Baba mi Arugbo ojo, Aja ma yin ibon, Aja bi iji (Fights without shooting a gun and fights like a whirlwind).

Sister Agape: Chukwu ka gi bu. Ebube dike wey dey pepper devil at every battlefield.
Onye oma onye oru ebube. Onye nwe Ike. Odogwu naya.
Na ni gi bu Chukwu, na ni gi nwe ndu, uche na udo.
Oshimiri ataata the giver of life who no one dares measure up to.

Sister 2: (clearly raised in warri) Baba God I hail. Egberi papa of the whole universe. The Agbada-gburu wey no dey fail im pikin hand but dey fall devil hand every second.

The area Fada wey nothing fit move am because Him be immovable-mover. One Yankee call you unshakable shaker wey be like small pin wey no strong man fit swallow.

Baba o, na bottle this devil wan break for our head so o, but him nor remember say you don give us iron helmet to take cover our head.

Epa. Na better charm this herbalist wan knack us with but him nor know say na the odi-eshi creator be our paale.

Brother Godwin: Yes you are the God most high. The immutable, infallible, impregnable wall which no weapons can penetrate.

You remain the first cause before whom, all other creatures squirm and bow down their knees while waving their white flags in surrender.

There is none who can compare to you. The colloquial celestial being whose words tell us never to be afraid.

(Getting excited) Your mercies have been irrefutable and even the corals of the ocean deep bear testament to the irresistible beauty which your hands make.
Here lies our brother (moving forward and touching the writhing man), battered and shattered by the piercing of a single bullet that emerged from the chambers of the enemies glock.

To this fight, we bring no weapons, to this boxing ring, we bring no shin guard and to this pitch, we bring no boots. But we have you our father. Immortal invincible, the benevolent father of light.

To fight, we have You, the seven star King whose cannons destroys the walls of the enemy and gives the beloved the leeway to plunder the enemy goods.

We command that at the name of Jesus, every bullet hole be closed up NOW!

(A mist surrounds the room and the wailing man stands up with ease and stitched up bullet wounds. The group all shout Hallelujah's)

(Curtains drawn and the scene switches to the first)

Herbalist: (eyes transfixed on the mirror crack which has mysteriously repaired itself)
ah ah, ee mo re o (this one is a wonder).

Aigbo iru eleyi ri, a fin da eru bo oloro (we have never heard this before and it sends shivers down the spine of the talkertive)

Laye mi! (Laughs wickedly).
Ko baje laye olufon ati aresa (it did not spoil during Olufon and Aresa's time).

Ko ba je ni igba baba mi alaakija oogun (it did not spoil during the time of my father the hoarder of spells).

Ko baje ni igba iya mi eleye. Adunni tamotiye ti n mu eje bi eni mu garri ijebu.
(It did not spoil during the time of my witch mother, the bee who stings children and drinks blood like garri ijebu)

Beeni. Eleyi o ni bo mo mi lowo. (Brings out Dane gun again and shoots the mirror again)

Hahahahahhah.....

(A bullet hits him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards and causing him to fall upon his figurines)

Yeeeeeee.
Ye... yeee. Mo ku ooo. Mo daran oo.

(He chants incantations as he tries to rise)

Iro. Opapa parada. Ki ota ibon parada ki o di omi, Opapa parada (let there be a transformation and the bullet should transform into water)

Opapa... (his head slumps and he gives up the ghost)
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

NYSC CAMP EXPERIENCES (Episode 1)

Oocho bay
Eeh!

Oocho bay
Eeh!

Moh ral
High!

Moh ral
High!

This was not the cry of some sweaty soldiers in the barracks folks.
This was not some weed inspired song being sung in a dimly lit studio by a artiste.
This was not a war cry raised by camouflage masked militants on their mission to blow up a pipeline in furtherance of their cause.

Nooo.

This was a song being sung by a group of young and vibrant university graduates.

Though all are not young and vibrant sha o.
For apparently some men chose to carry over the NYSC camp experience due to the monies paid at the end of the twenty one days.

Poor fellas who had unsuccessfully tried to get jobs after the service year and had decided to come back.
At least camp food was free and the 19800 collected at its end, was the same minimum wage for workers outside.

This is a trip down the NYSC camp lane.
One I invite you to go down with me.

___________

That day was a Saturday.

One which I would never forget for the rest of my transient life on earth.
For it was filled countless twist and turns.

It all began with the journey from Onitsha to Akwa-ibom.

"Corper corper come to my bus na. Shebi na orientation camp you dey go?"
So said the bus driver standing close to a rickety looking car
.
Looking at the sides of the car, you would know that it had undergone many accidents and recovery surgeries.
For its sides were bent in a thousand ways and the rough paint job revealed the mastery of a quack.

"Yes sir. I am going to Nsit.. Nsi..."
I said.
Forgetting the name of the camp due to the euphoria of going to NYSC.

As in.
I was going to be a corper.

Going to put on my white shirt on green khaki with a jungle boot and a green cap to match.

Going to go into villages and the village head would roll out the red carpet in welcome ceremony.
(At least that was what some nollywood films had taught me)

I was going to pass soldiers, policemen and other force men and shout 'Espiri d corps'
For I was now a federal government 'pikin' who could not be touched anyhow like other bloody civilians.

As in!
That NYSC, where local village girls would flock around me and I would make my choice.

At least, that was what Leke had told me.
That yoruba agbada wearing demon who had gotten almost half of the village girls pregnant and ran away.

That NYSC camp that I would join others in wild bonfire celebrations and festivals.
Staying with soldiers and living a regimented life for twenty-one full days.

These thoughts filled my mind at that moment.
Evoking exciting feelings that caused me to temporarily forget the name of the camp I was traveling to.


"Nsit-Atai" he quickly chipped.
Smiling while collecting the load from my hands and placing it in a boot that was already filled up.

While I took my place inside the car, a hand reached forward and tapped me.

Instinctively, my hands raced towards my shorts.

Omo boy had to check if his 'kini' was still intact.

Ah!
We live in that country abeg.

That country where a touch could make a man's manhood disappear without a trace and reappear when the culprit has been well fed with slaps and threats of fuel and tyre.

That country where the people were hungry to the bone and would use any part of their neighbors body for money rituals.
Choosing the quickest route to making wealth without considering the doom that was to come later.

Upon recognizing that my 'kini' was safe, I turned towards the one that interrupted my thoughts.

My interrupter was a 'She' and she was a Hawwt Baby Oku Diva.

One who the local peoples would call 'mammy water'.
For she was a fair goddess and had neither spot nor pimple.

Seeing her, I double checked to confirm that my 'kini' was there again.

God knows I had heard a who lot of mammy water stories to warrant a follow up check on my body parts and destiny.

Aunty Shola had once told me to avoid them like a plague.
For they were always agents sent from the marine kingdom to collect body parts and 'aisiki (glory)' from human beings especially the males.

"Hello. I just heard you mention that you are going to NYSC camp." The diva said.
Flashing a set of perfect teeth yet unleashing a monster in the form of a repulsive mouth odor.

Kaii.
'Ise ti baje sha' (work/parole don spoil)
So my mind said as the nausea of her mouth odor hit me.
For I had planned to collect her number; advance the cause of the 'guy-men'; and pass the test of 'being a man' which the society had placed on me.

Oga Leke had also told me that the fun always started at the camp.
And I had planned to catch this 'mammy water' with the hook and bait of 'I am a corper' line.

"Yes. I have been called upon to serve my nation and my camp location is in Akwa-ibom"

To be continued in later episodes.
#BASHORUN

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BACK TO BACK

Oh men. Oh men
Not again. Not again.

I have come with the flow that you never heard on a regular basis.
Come to let you know of my father who watched me through all the phases.
Who loves the black, the blue and all races.
Whose power illuminates the skies and the dead; He raises.
A seal of excellence and a stamp of favour; His presence places.
In church, at school will I praise His name and in all military bases.
Your message I will spread to illuminate all faces.
Sin; will I purge from my heart, removing all the traces.
Going through pain, we will remain firm like treasured vases.

Huh! Huh!
This is a rap beat.
It's time to tell sin to a backseat.
Racing to my king to listen to His heartbeat.
Marching by His side to avoid any defeat.
Scrolling down my phone; every wrong contact I have got to delete.
Walking by Him every day because in Him I am conplete.
Reading every day; His words I put on repeat.
Preaching day by day, His truth I cannot keep in discreet.
His words on my lips, yeah they are my beautiful feet.

Yeah!
Yeah!
Am going back in.
See, I told you He came down to earth just to save ya.
Walked on broken paths to Golgotha to redeem ya.
Braced thirty nine stripes on His back to heal ya.
Drank bitter gall in His tommy showing He loves ya.
Bore the 6 inch nails just to tell that He loves ya.
And rose on the third day just to prove that He saved ya.

Yeah. He loves ya my friend.
Back to back, He loves ya.
Day by day, He loves ya.
#BASHORUN

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MADAME KOI KOI (A TRIP DOWN FGC IKIRUN LANE)

"Last boyyyy!"
Senior Seyi yelled from his down bunk situated at the right corner of the hostel.

A call which elicited a mad dash from the junior students in the room.

From the east, they raced.
Leaving their washing and knocking down their buckets in a bid to come first.

From the west, they ran.
Leaving their lockers wide open for they could not afford to let it hinder them from escaping the seniors handpicking.

From the south, they ran.
Leaving their half eaten garri flakes which some of them had soaked down for hours prior to eating.
At least the time spent running to answer the senior's call would grant the garri ample time to rise again and make it more filling to the body.

From the north, they ran.
Leaving their bathing water, sponge and soap behind.
Struggling to keep their towels from falling off from their waists.
Lord knows if the towel fell, they would become the butt of jokes for the whole hostel for the next week.

As usual, I took first position.
Elbowing Austa in the ribs to dislodge him to the position of safety
For the first was always safe while the last undertook the task, which the senior had in mind.

Actually, Damilola Owolabi amd Ijoba were unwell that day and were ineligible for the race.
God knows those two were very insightful.
Brilliant Messi's who could easily spot incoming 'last boys' from Iniesta-like seniors and easily positioned themselves to be first position.

That day was not my day.
For Sixtus was the last person on the queue,

A student who loved to do father Christmas for senior Seyi at most times.
Always preparing Oxford buscuit and milk plus sugar just to buy his trust and show his loyalty.

Always furnishing senior Seyi's pockets with money so that the good senior never lacked and his plate never emptied.

"Sixtus and the rest go and sleep. You kosi, Abi kini oruko re. Come and go and fetch water for me".

"Ohh Ohh" I muttered in protest.
Greatly pissed at the hatred shown to me by this senior.

Wondering what I had done to deserve his negative attention.

Apparently I had forgotten.

That I had unknowingly spoilt his planned enjoyment with a girl the previous session.
As a strong sh*t had forced me to walk into the bush where he and the girl were.
Leaving him fuming at this 'little enemy of progress' who had the balls to wreck his plans.

Apparently I did not know,
That he had marked my face down as a wicked boy.
For I had refused to help him ferry his pot of beans away from the dinning hall one evening.

God knows I was fearful for my life.
As Mr Esan, the teacher on duty. had warned students not to take anything out of the hall.

Who would dare defy Mr Esan?
The oju igo dudu (black shade glasses wearing man) who graduated with a First class from the University of beating.

Who once gave a tough looking senior, two strokes and the senior burst into tears

Who gave Uji Igbakula, three strokes of pankere and the big burly guy almost cried.
______

Grudgingly, I picked up the iron bucket.
Made my way down the steps of Osun house towards the tap.

The hair on my neck rising at every second because it was night and I was the only one.

"God please don't let any bush baby come my way." I prayed.
Looking to the left and right; ready to dash at the sight of a small baby carrying mat on its forehead.

I had no intention of being rich.
So I entertained no thought of staying back to steal the baby's mat.

God knows I had watched enough films to discourage me from blood money.

Watched enough Zach Orgi films to know that the wife used for sacrifice would keep chasing you till eternity.

Watched enough Mr Latin 'Omo ode de' to know that 'egbere' (spirits) could deceive one to acting like a big fool while still rich.

Watched enough Kanayo O Kanayo to know that he who tries blood money would go mad after two years.

Watched enough Fadeyi Oloro films to know that the ritual chickens only ate about 3 pieces of corn which meant three continue at Facebook

TAKUN LA: BERU OLORUN (FEAR GOD)

Alhaji beeru Olorun.

Everyday na fight for una house.

So tey na slap don become the ring tone wey una dey use wake me.

'Alhaja nor put enough salt for soup'
'Alhaja nor come home early from work yesterday'
'Alhaja nor gree me to perform my man duties yesterday'
So so complain wey u dey render in defense of your callousness.

Abeg do examine yasef first.

Old agbaya wey dey raise im hand to beat im wife.
Fake alfa wey go dey preach peace outside but im house dey boil.
Wicked man wey don 'koju-ife (professed love)' to younger alfa wives while im get wife for house.

Takun La Alhaja.
Na Alhaji private life you don dey circulate all around the mosque.

So tey every pikin for 'ile keu (school of koranic studies)' don know say Alhaji na two minute man for bed.
So tey all the other Hajias don know say na only 300 naira im dey provide for soup every two days.
So tey other men don begin disrespect Alhaji because gist dey go round say im mama get drinking problems.

Beeru Olorun dakun
Fear the creator and stop it all.
Stop wrecking your home with your own hands biko.
Desist from acts of wickedness for they lay precedent for the little ones around.

Abi you nor know?
Say Segun, una son, don begin think say na normal tin to beat woman.
Unto say Alhaji vs Alhaji don turn everyday thing like NTA news.

Say Teniola, una daughter, don begin think say na excellent thing to bad mouth her future husband for public.
Unto say na every Alhaja visitor dey hear the latest gist of Alhaji incompetence.

Make una fear God o.
Else na terrible pikin go bury una for future.
Pikin wey go corrupt the world because una don corrupt them from small.

Takun La le kan si.
Beeru Olorun le kan si (fear God once more)
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

PRAISE FATHER, SON AND HOL AM DERE!

(Runs towards a sitting brother)

Abeg who you dey praise wey you dey siddon for dia.
Because I nor sure say you know who you dey praise.

The Agbada-gburu wey 'Buratai-ze' your enemies.

The Alagbada Ina wey make NEPA to on light ontop your mata.

You sef remember na!
How that exam and lecturer wan use u do suya for mallam shop.
How that poverty take you shine for front of everybody
So tey people wey poor sef dey use you take thank God say their own case different.
So tey no rat gree show face inside ya room unto say na shine your pot dey shine every time.
So tey the local dog for neighborhood dey go hustle bone, come drop for your doormot say make una two share am because say your condition critical.

Abi you nor remember?

How those nurses don begin call you chief tenant for the hospital.
How the 100 level students don begin call you Grandfather for class.
How the buka people don begin call you 'chief-plate washer'
How everyone for church don see you as commander in chief of prayer warriors
Unto say your case get as e be, and you fight better battle to break loose.

So now you don become big man na.
Dey swing; one step right, one step left; when better praise dey go one.
Dey raise hand mid-way when them say make you wave for God.

"Thunder fi..."
Bia, nor let make I mistalk for hia o.

Just stand and begin to do the needful.
Dey komole when better Alujo Jesu (dance for Jesu) hit the floor.
Dey speak everything wey Baba God do for you wen time reach.

Unto say..
Unto say....
Na person wey praise na im God dey raise.
Church don close.
#BASHORUN

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ALL WITHIN (THE PRAISE OF A FOODIE)

With all within, I praise you.
Giving you the thanks for the egg and oil you provided to 'meshai' up my dull bread-looking life.

Giving you the glory for this beautifully damsel called banga which you provided for a poor starchy bachelor like me.
And for her wonderful friends; floater, liver, stock fish and meat, who helped park her things into the marriage.
Poor ladies who I also had to grant accommodation to since they did not have a home to go.

Giving you all the gratitude for my divorce with my former lover, rice, this morning.
Lord knows I just had to sign those divorce papers at the court called 'toilet'

Oluwa
You are good o.
Against the armies of ulcer, my belly withstood.
Against a horde of kwashiokor, the beans, which you provided, repelled

Through the valley of the shadow of "empty", you led me.
Upon the lush fields of plenty, you placed me.
A table filled with the choicest delights, you set before me.

Pounded yam plus egusi which pounded those worms that gnawed my intestines.

Pears, pineapples and apples which slowly revived the fraying skin of mine.
Causing it to shine like a new born babes'.

Simmering plates of Ekpankuko, Edikaikong and Ewedu with wraps of akpu and amala, began to smile at me.
Beckoning on me to partake in the goodness of this great maker of mine.

Daddi m.
I am 'belle-filled' with these goodies you give me.
Indeed I am constipated from your mercies which cling onto me like bread and ewa agoin.
Indeed my fears have lost their form like a cube sugar that enters a bowl of water and garri.
Indeed you made my life so much attractive like a piece of cake crafted by the unique hands of CeeCakes.

Indeed.
Yes Indeed.
You have done me well.
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

EARLY MO MO

Early mo mo, mumsi don wake us to come pray.
Time to cast and bind every bad demon wey dey wait us for road.
Time to pray make God sugar our morning tea and banga our afternoon starch

Early mo mo, neighborhood cock don begin im morning crow.
Poor guy wey no know say na im wife we use cook rice yesterday.
Poor guy wey no know say we don plan im death for evening.

Early mo mo, pounding sound don dey ring for our ear.
Evidence say Ramadan season don show.
A season of fasting and piety.
Time wey I fit tear Lateef slap without fear of revenge.
Time wey Iya Tade house dey scent well for evening time.

Early mo mo, aunty Ramota prayer don start.
Prayer make God inject her boyfriend with the spirit of proposal.
Prayer make God burn every devil of bachelorhood wey dey follow uncle for back.
Unto say uncle don slack too much and her body sef get clock.

Early mo mo, papa Edafe don begin swear.
Say make e no better for all the police officers.
Unto say them no gree come at the time wey 'chairmen' dey rob for im compound.
Say make e no beta for govament pipu.
Unto say e don reach 3 years wey im pension allawi show last
Say make thunder fire Onome yansh anywhere she dey.
Unto say she carry Edafe, im pikin, moni run and break im heart join.

Early mo mo, Bashorun don begin fire prayer down.
Say every eye wey dey read the words no go blind.
Say make God continue to bless mama Atinuke at all seasons.
Say make Jesus nor forget to carry us anytime wey im show.
Unto say na wetin we dey wait for since.
Because this world and everitin inside na vanity.

Wetin you dey do with your early mo mo o?
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com