Bachelor’s Sojourn- Part 9


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.

 

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Madam flip it over! Come, let me tell you something in your ears’ were my hello to her as I walked up to her in the compound. Those lines had been my favorite tease in the last 4 months since she left Netherlands. And you know the funny part? She had no idea what was happening that night. She still thinks I cooked up the story. Once again, I say ‘alcohol is a binssh’. She walked up to me, and I was back to assessing her. Her high waist leopard pencil skirt and black shirt looked so good on her. She used hair extensions, which covered half of her face, and fell to her shoulders. Her heels made her seem almost my height.

‘oh gosh! Am I gonna hear the end of it? I still don’t believe you’ she said, as she slapped the back of my head(as Banky W does to Ikechukwu in the movie “wedding party) and pulled me to a squeezing hug.

My hands were exploring every corner of her body while hugging. Omo, I don miss this babe die.
Over the next few days, I settled back in Nigeria. My ex flings, Instagram DM sliders and hook ups kept setting P with me, and trust the brother not to dull. There’s something that comes with being an ‘I Just Got Back’. Seems everyone sees you as refined goal. I got my groove back and was giving it to anyone who wanted a doze. Confam Omo baba ee.

As typical with old age, Otunba had diabetes and high blood pressure, which reduced his frequency at work. Only important meetings were attended. This earned me the role ‘General Manager’ at his Company. I didn’t waste time in getting used to my new role. I just ensured I employed a corper from Unilag as my Personal Assistant/ Secretary, to attend to all my ‘personal’ needs. Cooling blood in the office was a necessity, and I planned to change them every year, replacing with a new corper.

Well, it wasn’t long before I started office romance with Juliet, my dear secretary. It was an easy arrangement for both parties. I mean, it was going well, until this fine day when JD came to see me at work. I met her at the entrance, and we went to my office together. I got busy with some files while she played Candy crush on my phone.

‘Who’s Juliet Jay’, she asks?
‘the Secretary’ I said.
‘ Deji? Is this your phone?’ said JD
‘yes, why not?’
She stands up, pick up her bag and heads out.
I was totally lost. I quickly grab my phone to see what’s going on. That’s when I realized fire had engulfed the mountain.

What happened? You know I’m a sharp guy, right? You can’t find incriminating messages on my phone, which is why I could leave it with JD. However, unfortunately for me, Juliet starts sending raunchy messages while JD was with the phone.
‘hmmmn, someone else is coming to give you soul food, right?’
‘she can’t do it like I do. I’m still your best’
‘let her not take it all o. Leave some for me’
‘should I come in to have a peep’
‘you aren’t replying me? You are cheating on me already ‘
‘I would deprive you the goodies and booty. You sure you wanna miss all that?’

The messages were all popping at the top of the phone, as notifications. I grew instantly weak. Sweat pangs formed, hands were shaking, eyes got red. I walked fast, and when outside the building, ran towards JD’s car. She was leaning on it, with her head on the car roof.

‘Babe, I’m sorry. We only flirt. We don’t do anything. She means nothing. I won’t trade what we have for something random’. I kept begging, and swearing and saying everything that came to mind.

‘Aargh, DJ. I’m burnt! I mean, I’d heard a lot but I chose not to believe. I chose to trust you. Would you have asked me for sex and I would refuse you? If you wanted it so bad, I would have allowed you. You just proved that men are really not worth it. And if men are worth it, you aren’t worth it. No wonder she looked at me in a down grading manner. I can stand anything, but I can’t stand physical violence and cheating. I’m out, boy!’

I tried to touch her, and prevent her from opening the door.
‘Don’t make this story something else. Just let me be, Deji’, she said.

I stand back and watch her drive away. My life paused. I didn’t know who to blame. My middle leg? My thirst for adventure? The trouble unilag ladies bring? Or is it because she’s ibo, and I’ve been warned they are dramatic? Or its iPhone notification method? Was it my fault to have allowed her access to my phone?

I don’t know what I’ll do, but JD can’t go. I would be a world class loser if she slips off my hands. I know begging and time works on ladies, right? But she doesn’t seem like she would give me that audience.

If she doesn’t accept, I’m probably never gonna marry. None can be compared to her.

 

THE END

 

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Guys, thanks for following. Please drop comments on how you found the story. I hope you truly enjoyed the series.

Major appreciation to my editor and reviewer: Felicia Akanmu

My next series would be called “Travails of a First Timer’ which talks about someone’s first time in the USA, and highlights the not too good side of living in the United States.

See you in the comment section below.

 

Featured post

Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 6


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.
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The “Oladeji” sounded like ‘Holla Day Gee’. Popo steps next to her, gives me a hug and introduces her as his wife. Hmmmmm,so this is the wife they always said he had: his second wife in this country, and third in his life.

She smelt of garlic. She’s not obese but she’s fatter than fat. Her tummy and her boobs were on the same level. She was a robust bundle of joy!

Her 5′ 10″ height makes her look huge, compared to my 5’7″ height. I still wonder whose height I have, as my mum and Popo are tall. ‎If she were slimmer, I’m not sure if she would have been pretty. Trust me, she had a very cute face nonetheless, with a very small, always pouting, red lips. Unfortunately for me, I don’t know where she’s from. I’m yet to get to the point where I see foreigners and can tell if they are American, Europeans or Hispanic. In my mind, all of them are oyinbo!

I’m not sure how long the hug was for because of all the plenty thoughts that had raced my mind. When she let me go, from that squeeze (because that ain’t no hug), I gave Popo a side hug. ‘Twas too awkward for him too, I guess. We headed to the parking lot and ‎got into a Pontiac Vibe cross over. Sophie (Popo’s wife) did the driving. I sat quietly in the back, answering her numerous questions and comments, on how much I would love my new life, although I struggled with her accent. Then she said her children were anxious to meet me.

Her children.

I never thought of that. ‎How dumb of me not to have thought they had children. I hated this awkward feeling that’s already swamping me. We got to the house and settled in. The house isn’t big. In short, all the houses I saw weren’t big. Many were terrace houses, with cars parked on the street, average of 3 rooms, and small carpet grass behind the house. I know modesty is good, but this felt like constriction to me. In Otunba’s compound, you would have a party of 300 guests comfortably, if the cars are parked outside. Sophie explained that she’d moved her things to Popo’s room, so that’s my new room. She showed me, and asked if I wanted anything.

‘For now, I just need a long sleep’ I replied. And I slept. And slept. And had all manner of weird dreams. When I woke up, 4 eyes were looking at me. I closed my eyes, telling myself the dream wasn’t over. Until I heard their voices, then I realized it was no dream.
‘Hey Urla, I’m Emma, and here’s my sister Julia. Do you mind if we hug you? Mum asked us to’ said one of them. I replied in affirmative as I stood up to hug the 2 girls, at the same time, like a family reunion hug and told them to call me DJ instead. They took me downstairs to have dinner (which according to me is lunch, because it was almost 6pm). And as usual, I didn’t know the names of the food I had. It all just looked familiar. Each swallow was hard, but I had to form. Later that evening, Popo came and had some talks with me. Told me I’d need to start some courses, so as to get into grad school and also work part time. He asked about my mum, and everything possible. The days rolled by. And they became weeks.

I started taking some college courses, and learning a little Dutch language. Damn, that stuff was hard and to make it worse, the teacher was one mean looking woman. I thought oyinbo teachers were always smoking hot? Why is this one so different? The city wasn’t so much fun, but night life was lit!

Netherlands is a sin city. A sexual sin city. Prostitution is legal. Red light districts were everywhere. And it’s cheap. But I can’t imagine myself, fully bred Lagos boy paying for sex. With the abundance of babes at home. No way!

However, that light that is always at the end of the tunnel showed up. ‎On a fine day, I was riding my bicycle (yes o, from a variety of cars in Nigeria to bicycle; it wasn’t a far distance though) from class to the house when I came across a branch of a Nigerian church! Yes, a popular Nigerian church. This became a lifesaver for me. Over the next few weeks, I became an ardent churchgoer and to make it better, I offered to join the choir. And I think that’s where I got it wrong.

You see, I can’t sing to save myself. Even someone offering to dash me money would hear my voice and change his mind. On the day of my mini audition, I listened to myself again in the bathroom and it did sound good. I mean, whose voice isn’t good when in the bathroom. Fast forward to my audition. I was asked to sing a song by Frank Edwards, but this choirmaster had no idea I had zero clues as to whom that was. Mo sorry gan, but I didn’t know who Frank Edwards was. So we switched to a popular song by Kirk Franklin (my case would be pathetic if I didn’t know him), and my embarrassment started. My voice kept hanging or going off key (even though I didn’t know what that even meant) and the conclusion was my voice had no class or category. So my voice didn’t match with alto, soprano, base or tenor. I had no clue on how to react to that, but the choirmaster concluded that I’d use my own microphone, stand-alone and sing nonetheless. I’d take it, I said!

Down the line, I saw there was this pretty girl in the church, who goes by the name Tishe. She was an usher‎, very dark, with the whitest, and best dentition ever. My crush on her started the first day I saw her. Pretty wouldn’t describe her, especially after considering these melanin gang on Instagram. But she was more than ‘just there’. Maybe the naive look and the easy demeanor did it for me. The real gist is that she had a twin, Temi, who was also in the choir, and Temi had a huge crush on me- it was very obvious too. Temi had a sexier body, but not sexy enough to choose her over Tishe. And more importantly, she was just there, facially.

I wasn’t ready to wash my dirty linens in church, so I didn’t chase Tishe, neither did I give Temi a chance. I would make her comments sound very plain and basic, and I guess that drove in the point, and led to the beginning of my trouble in the choir.

Questions like ‘who disconnected the microphone’, ‘who’s voice is going off-key’, ‘who should go and get the crew lunch’ would have Temi pointing at me. She pushed every blame, lapse or responsibility at me, and I got the message. So I buckled my shoes to leave the choir. Just then, I remembered I could play the talking drum that JD got for me during my last birthday. So I offered to play for the church at a fee, and they obliged. This was very rewarding, financially and also by leaving the choir and Aunty Temi’s shenanigans!

You see how much of a lifesaver JD can be? You then expect me to leave her for one twitter girl? Naah! I was talking to her the night I got my first €100 pay from the church, and subtly telling her how sweet she is. You know, as a strong man, we aren’t predisposed to reeling out feelings and emotions. The conversation was going smooth until I heard creaky sounds of a bed. It got louder, and it was hitting the thin wall of my room. I told JD to hold on, as I put my ears closer to the wall. Oh no! It’s not what I’m thinking! I’ve left the stage of thinking! It’s what I’m hearing. Popo and Sophie were having night action. It would have been easy to let it go, I mean, couples have sex. But no, I couldn’t. Sophie’s noise or ringtone wouldn’t let the thought slide by. Oh my! She’s quite noisy and controlling. I fear they would break the wall. I managed to move to the other side of the room, and mimicked everything I heard to JD. She laughed so hard and we kept catching up.

In the morning, it looked like I was seeing someone else other than Sophie. When she hugged me, I couldn’t but have my mind race again. However, she’s been the sweetest person ever. She either is a fabulous pretender or has a blissful soul. At some point, I wondered if she wanted something else from me, sef. There was nothing I ever wanted from Popo that she didn’t ensure I got, and her small gifts were unending: be it socks, headphones, customized pen, and paying my monthly phone bills. Having a long and decent conversation is quite hard, but we natter a lot on ‎different things.

Weeks in Netherlands grew into 7 months and JD said we had to have that talk! Man I was scared! Did she find someone else? Is she tired of waiting? Gosh! I knew it! It has to be that guy at her office!! JD is trying to leave me!!

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Edited by: Felicia Akanmu

Continue the story to part 7 here

 

Bachelor’s sojourn – Part 8


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.
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JD came to see me that night, straight from work. Baby girl couldn’t wait to take it. I don’t know why I use that ‘take it’ phrase, when you and I know she’s Virgin Mary’s sister and there’s nothing to take. Besides, it had only being just 4 months since we last saw. Yes, 4 months, because she came 3 months into my stay in Netherlands. How did I miss that part? But yes, my very own Jadesola came visiting. She told her parents it was office training, and at work, she asked for a leave of absence for 3 days, which coincided with Easter holidays, so she came to see me. 
 
I met her at the airport and she was a beauty to behold. JD hardly uses make up. She’s a basic lipstick, small brown powder, and brush eyebrows person. This time around, I guess she did some extra work in the airport toilet as regards the painting of her face. She wore a black leggings, brow timberland boots, with a round neck top with a picture which had a mirror in the middle, with inscription JD on one side, and the other side of the mirror was the reflection of JD, translated as DJ, and a red plaid/checkered shirt tied to her waist. She jumped on me, and locked her legs around my waist, and planted a long kiss. Dang, I maintained her position with my hands on her waist, and kept kissing. I had missed this babe, man. No one seemed to notice us, trust Europeans. I mean this reaction from JD was shocking. She was a typical conservative lady, who doesn’t fancy public display of affection, and doesn’t obvious pictures of me on the gram. I like the air blowing in this country o, if it would bring this type of behavior from her. She got off me, and her shirt fell off her. She bent to pick it and I could not but notice the extra fat in the right places. Ahn ahn!!! All my mind was telling me was that this one would go back home with twins. I must take it!
 
We headed to the hotel we would be staying at, as Sophie was able to convince Popo to allow us have our space. He didn’t see why we would not stay in the house, and I tried to explain that her company had made reservations and it would be an issue if she doesn’t stay there. I assured him we would both come once a while for lunch. We settled in the room, and I told her to try to rest but no, she wasn’t having it. She said ‘young man, I’m taking my time. I call all the shots in these 5 days’. Who was I to say no? And she did have her fill, to the extent of her boundaries, for the next 90 minutes or so. In my view, this was love making without sex. All my attempts to take it a step further hit a brick wall. But then, it was just okay by me. She eventually passed out and slept. 
 
Those days were so good. From roller-coasters, to visiting the estate of the president, dairy farms, Popo’s house for lunch, my church for Easter Sunday service and a list of many other things. In my view, those days were bliss. On the night before she left, we went to a club. Before now, as I’ve explained, JD isn’t too much of your everyday girl. The few instances where she took Alcohol, it was either with her family or me, and it’s usually a little: maybe half a glass during a toast or just a taste. However on this night, I don’t know what entered me, or maybe her. She asked to drink and I got her a shot of tequila and lime. She asked for one more and then one more. So I decided to get her a glass of long island, with extra spirit in it. And then trouble started. JD kept grinding me so hard, pulling me so close to her and occasionally missing her steps and having to lean on me. I mean, it was fun, and she would tell me she’s tipsy but fine. The next 30 minutes went well, and we left and grabbed a cab. She was sleep talking to me, and I just kept laughing at her. 
 
We got go the hotel, I guided her through the elevator, till she got in bed. I took off my shirt, and laid next to her, set to sleep. 
“Come, I want to tell you something”, she said. 
In my mind, I asked if this one was okay. I’m right beside you and you say I should come. 
I replied ‘I’m here, listening’. She goes further to say ‘no, I wanna tell you in your ears’. That’s when I realized alcohol truly is a binsshhhh‎. I did as instructed and moved closer, and our lips met. This continued for a while, till JD got on top of me and flipped off her top. That was remarkable. Why?‎: Because in our years of being “intimate”, she had always been a typical Anastasia Steele, who is led. But this day was different. The alcohol had evidently given her the bravado to take the lead. I kept savoring every corner and curve of her body with all parts of my body. 
‘DJ, I want you now. Take my virginity’ she said. 
These words took me aback. My plan from the airport was about to materialize, on a platter of gold. I didn’t have to press buttons. It came on a least expected night, and it was special, since it was a night before she left. Also, she had always said that she wanted her first time to be in some fancy place, preferable outside Nigeria, so this also made it more perfect. I got up, went to turn on the lights, which made her use the duvet to cover up.  
‘Babyyyy, you are obviously under the influence, sweetie. This is the same as taking advantage of you’. I said. 
She replied ‘I know and I don’t care. I want you to have it now’. 
I moved on to kiss her, and continued the foreplay. Then I stopped and said ‘babe, we would do it when you are fully conscious and alert’. Having said that, I put her in my arms, and proceeded to sleep. In minutes, she was asleep. My mind wandered after laughing though, at the person who wanted action so bad and is sleeping less than 5 minutes later. I thought to myself ‘she escaped o’ because I would not decline a sexual offer or advance from someone I really want to hit. But I can’t afford to do that to JD. She’d held on to this so long, and told me how much it has to be on the wedding night. Not like I give a hoot about the wedding night matter but I knew I owed her that encouragement to hang on.
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Edited by: Felicia Akanmu
Click here to read part 9.
Featured post

Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 7


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.
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When your girl says: “We need to talk”, as a guy, it freaks you out! Therefore, for the hours I was waiting to get out of class and for JD to get out of work, I almost ran mad wondering what exactly it was.
Thankfully, it ended up being one of those talks that talk every guy hate: “What are we doing?” “Where is this relationship headed?” and the likes… I knew it was going to happen soon. I just wasn’t ready to face it. She was working and doing pretty good for herself. On the other hand is me, in Europe, making fairly okay, but if translated into the current exchange rate, is a good sum, in my country. I was totally okay with life here, although it’s way better in Nigeria, in some aspects. JD kept emphasizing that I would do well for myself if I come back to Nigeria and she was doing good enough, and so we could start a family. 
This conversation kept going for a while, and guess what? I gave in. I decided to return to Nigeria and I did this for JD. Why? I had a number of reasons.
But the few that top the list are:
1) I’ve come a long way with this girl. Why would I throw it all away?
2) She had been a real definition of a backbone / soul mate.
3) I can leave JD at home, and come back and meet her at the same spot, intact. No boy, 3rd party or unwarranted behavior. In this our generation, the watchword is: if you can leave her at home, and know nothing would go wrong, marry her!  
 
Telling my mum, Popo and Sophie this was quite devastating. I didn’t add JD to the reason. I just summarized and said I wanted to be back home, and do business and the likes, that although Netherlands was good, I assessed Nigeria to be better. You can be sure they cajoled, convinced, fought, begged and did all sorts, but I politely declined. At approximately 11 months after getting to Europe, I was on my way back to Nigeria, with my fresh skin and a few thousand Euros to make some noise and paint town red. As I got off the plane and walked into the airport, the hot air that hit me was so bad, I wanted to go back. I thought all those “I just got back” kids used to form oh but man that heat was like someone left hell’s door open at the entrance facing Nigeria.
“When would this country change?” I said to myself. I found my way out of immigration and switched to my Nigerian phone sim-card. Since I’d been using it for Whatsapp, it’s been functional. Behold, Otunba’s call came through. Jixox!
 
I’d been dreading conversation with him. I can count the number of times we spoke while I was away. According to mum, he’d been a little bit upset at my leaving but didn’t want to be a hindrance between my ‘father’ and me. The guilt didn’t allow me make communication frequent. Mum must have told him I was returning, and he was being the same old father I knew, who would call to find out if we’d arrived in school or airport or something. 
‘Hello sir’ I said. 
‘Oladeji, how are you. I see you have landed. I’m at Gate B. Where are you? Said Otunba. 
‘I’m walking out of immigration. I would see you in a minute or two, sir’. 
Wait Otunba is picking me up himself? This has to be important to him and the level of relief that washed over me was insane! The phone went dead. Otunba isn’t a man of long phone calls. I saw him. He hadn’t changed. Still huge, but he was looking a little bit tired. His kaftan looked neat, as usual, and his chain could still blind anybody! As I walked up to him, and bowed my head to greet him, he gave me a big hug! 
No! No!! No!!! Bring my father back. Otunba has never hugged anyone other than his wife, and that when it’s either’s birthday and they are posing for the camera or crowd. The hug seemed to last forever. I cried a bit. And all the emotions came pouring in my mind. 
How could I have been so selfish?
This is the man who brought me up since I was a child. 
I left without looking back because of the feeling of being in “obodo oyinbo”. 
Someone who gave or made me all I am today. 
The pangs of guilt ate me up while in that hug. 
 
When we broke the hug, he slapped my head in a funny way and said ‘Ah! You’ve started wearing chain too? omo babe e’ . We laughed and he called the driver up, loaded my luggage in his Mercedes SUV. Now that’s what I’m talking about!! Not the bicycle I was riding in Netherlands. 
 
When I got to the house, I had everyone looking at me with hype and excitement. I wasn’t sure if my skin had turned white because I couldn’t fathom all the royal treatment. They had bought bottled water as they assumed my system would be too “bougie” for normal dispenser water. My semo and ogbono soup was also served with fork and knife. Something must be doing these people. But I liked the sentiments attached to my return, so I didn’t try to make it look weird. I wanted it to continue.
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Edited by: Felicia Akanmu
Click here to read part 8.
Featured post

Bachelor’s Sojourn- Part 5


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.
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I started begging, I forgot all the shades of “swagger” I had put on…then he said ‘shake body’. Unfortunately for me, I only had €20 bills on me. And that’s how I gave this law enforcement officer a whooping 9,000 Naira! Yes, I used the €1/N450 exchange rate. I don’t know which hurt more, maybe the value or my naivety (as I later discovered it’s common for them to do it to those with Virgin passports. Ghana doesn’t count, I’m guessing). I had always seen myself as a sharp guy, in fact, too sharp and street credible, to fall for this, and so I gradually awaited my next foreign travel. 
 
As I pulled my box along the aisle of the aircraft, I saw adesuwa taking pictures of herself and her business class seat. ‎Our eyes met and since she was in the last row of business
class, it was obvious I was moving to economy. Her hello was filled with downgrade, as if it’s only luggage that gets put in the economy cabin. Our brief conversation informed that she’s headed to London, but having a stop in Netherlands. In previous conversations, I’d always told people that I don’t know why people, especially celebrities see the need to show off business class cabins. In the case of an emergency, no one gets special attention neither is first class cabin safer in the plane, than the economy cabin. But today, kai!! I felt so bad walking into economy. I realize I had just being a hater all along! That girl’s look just made me really wish I were in business class. 
I got into my seat and I was getting comfortable. Set my cotton stuffed pillow, fastened seat belts, plugged my phone cord to the available port and began calling those that mattered, that I was due to take off soon. Economy cabin was beginning to look okay, until I saw a hostess take glasses of champagne to those in business class. What humiliation!! I’m never flying economy again. I resolved to take a picture upon landing at the business class cabin. “I gats to belong”! 
 
Those around me seemed to be used to flying, as many plugged their ears, used their eye masks and just tried to sleep. Me? No way! I observed everything, especially take off. From the sky, the city looked well lit, but I can bet a majority was from generators. I got tired of looking out, and concentrated on the few things around me. The desire for more legroom made me remember business class cabin again, and I remembered Adesuwa.
 
You know how people say girls get more matured and exposed faster than guys? Adesuwa is the one person I can say that proved that to me. We used to attend the same teen’s church, where we developed feelings for each other (more like a mutual crush). I gained admission into the university, while she was still in secondary school. We lost touch for a while and reconnected when she was in a college of education, while I was in my 2nd year in University. I had a sense of superiority over her, in terms of age, financial background, academic standing and type of institution attended. I would brag about how girls in my school liked me, and the type of parties I attended and my CGPA not suffering too much, and she would listen to me. Somehow, our conversation led to sex and we agreed to do it. She wasn’t a Virgin (and that really broke my heart. Why? Because firstly, I wondered why a 17-year old girl has already had sex with 3 guys. Secondly, like I said, I really liked her. Lastly I was still a Virgin, but I posed to be a bad guy) so it wasn’t a lot of drama getting to that point. I mean I’d done many other things with girls, but not actual sex.
One thing led to another, and I was on top of her, struggling to find “the way home”. True to it, all the experiences I’d gathered from watching any form of erotic films failed me. The most basic part of sex, which is actual penetration, and maintaining it, was herculean. She was nice enough to help me, and I was done in seconds. She laughed so hard at me. I tried to explain that she was just so ‘sweet’ but she knew better. After a few minutes of ‘fooling myself’, we were done and she left. Her first text message to me, on my beloved Alcatel phone was: “Tell me the truth, you are a Virgin. I’m home sha oh.” I then launched into a long explanation about how I’d done many other things but not the real thing. 
The shame severed our relationship but the deal breaker came 2 weeks after that encounter. Adesuwa called on my way to get dinner, in school, and said she was pregnant. My life jumped out of me and came back. I was going to get food, but I suddenly became so full, and even wanted to poop so badly. Sweat pangs grew, as I was shivering at the same time. Who would kill me first? My mum? Otunba? Aduwa’s folks? I told her to give me some minutes to get back to her. I gathered myself and decided to be a man. I launched into a long conversation of how much she meant to me, and how I’ll do anything she wants. If she wants to keep the baby, I would take responsibility. And if she decides to abort it, I would foot the bills and also be with her during the process. 
Her response was “Ki la gbe, ki le ju”, meaning ‘what did we carry, what did you throw’ or more simplified ‘what am I saying, what are you saying’. 
One more time, Adesuwa made a fool of me. She said she was just joking, that the condom was intact and it’s too soon to tell if she was pregnant. That’s when I had it! No more humiliation from this girl, and so I stopped communicating with her. Except when we run into each other at the mall, or Facebook birthday wishes, and other random social media sites, we lived separate lives. 
 
I drifted asleep on the flight, till I was woken to eat a tray full of different foods that I had no idea what their names were or how they were pronounced. Don’t get me wrong, they all looked familiar, but I couldn’t tell the exact name. I know it’s salad, but why is it purple? It’s bread but why the white seeds on it? It’s beef but why does it taste like snail? Well, I decided to eat what I could, as the 6-hour flight had 3 more hours to go. I slept a bit more, till I was tapped to adjust my seat and landing was due. Upon disembarking from the plane, I didn’t find the chance to take my business class picture. A good time would surface some day.  
 
All the needed things were done and checked, and in no time, I was at the arrival terminal, looking for Popo. I really hope I don’t call him that. However, daddy was not an option. I can’t call him that. Then our eyes meet, but I wasn’t so sure he was the one. He waved at me, and I walked towards him. My mind was racing. Am I to hug him? Or shake him? Can I trust him? Did he bring a police car? As I got closer, a white woman moved forward and gives me a full fledged hug and says ‘Oladeji, hey!!!’- ‘Who on earth is that?’ was the thought racing through my mind? Abi Popo had “Bruce Jennered” us??
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Click here to read part 6.
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Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 4


The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.

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Aarrgh!!!! Everytime I’m with the love of my life or something, my girlfriend always shows up, ready to ruin the moment.
 
But wait! Did you think I didn’t have a girlfriend? I can’t remember never having one, since I had the first. Undull. 
Are you also shocked I wasn’t mad at Mimi or Bimbo? Come on!! You should know better! we are guys, we pass babes.
“Hey babe, what’s up? Seeing your friend off?” JD asked. 
I replied “No, it’s just hot inside for Karelle. So we are taking a walk”. 
She said she would be inside, waiting for me. So she left me with Karelle. 
Karelle just looked at me funny, while biting her nails. I didn’t know what to make out of her expression. But my senses told me not to continue that journey to the boys’ quarters. Karelle was obviously thinking same because she asked that we go back inside after some minutes. Jadesola (JD) just spoilt my little escapade one more time. 
 
One more time, yes. That’s because it’s always happening. But she has never caught me pants down. It’s been so close but never in the act. And it’s not because I covered tracks well. “Na my mama prayer dey work”…Because I can’t leave JD oh! I don’t know why but I can’t. Not for all these Instagram babes. 1st class in engineering, daughter of a local government chairman, not skinny, not chubby, works with a generator company and earns pretty good money. We’ve been on this dating matter for about 4 years. And the most she allowed me is play with her boobs and she helps me out with her hands. Yes I said that. That’s the limit because my dear JD is a virgin. Virgin Mary. And I’m totally fine with it. But you need to understand that JD is my G. She’s my babe, my guy, my mini mother, and the one who can press my reset button.
 
You see, back in the university, I dabbled into a number of things. They included being the social prefect for my department’s association and also making clothes for students. The cloth making was quite profitable, at least for student, and also when Otunba decides to withhold my allowances. At a particular time, I got about the biggest job I ever had: to make 22 suits/blazers for some graduating students. This was a big deal for me, since it all came at once and they paid full amount. 
 
I had to dash to Lagos (specifically Lagos Island) to meet another tailor as I assessed that mine would not be able to do a perfect job. Our previous specialty had shirts and trousers. Discussion with Dennis was smooth, price, style and fabric was decided upon and I gave him the contract. I won’t take you into too many nitty-gritty details but lorokan, Dennis and many other tailors, mechanics, or artisans in general, are what we call “Alakoba!!!” So I gave him a 70% upfront because I wanted to motivate him. A week to go, Dennis had only cut 10 blazers. I screamed, threatened and did all sorts, but he said he got it covered. I went back 2 days later, only to discover only 8 out of that 10 had been sewn, 6 had been cut down while 8 hadn’t started at all. He kept saying it would be done but I knew better than listen to him.  
 
The real drama started when I asked for my money back, for the uncompleted ones. He said he had no money, except I decide to sell his machines. Man, I was furious. By the next day, only a total of 12 were ready, and then Dennis fell sick (well, according to his boy, he was sick at home, and that’s why he wasn’t picking my calls). It was Tuesday, and the final year dinner was on Saturday, and a whooping 10 suits were not available. I needed help from above and I called JD to explain my predicament. Her panic was even worse than mine. She advised that I quickly look for another tailor, and my response was ‘with which money’? But then, that’s the truth; I had to start the hunt. And I found one on that same Tuesday night but he was charging more than what Dennis would charge for a blazer since it’s ‘express’. JD offered to pay for whatever I was short of, as a loan. It had to be ready by Friday. I accepted, and work started. I called him every 3 hours, asking for progress report and he also said ‘it’s covered bro. They would be ready’. 
 
But guess what? On Friday morning, it wasn’t. I almost fainted. I considered not going back to school. Those guys would have skinned me alive! The new guy said first thing Saturday morning. I wondered how I would be able to make it to school, which was 3 hours away and deliver, especially considering that I knew (but hoped) that Saturday morning wouldn’t work. At 7am on Saturday, my phone was buzzing non-stop from 22 student customers, who were getting scared about the outcome of their ‘best dressed’ outfit. But what could I do? I had to leave for school that morning with the 12. For once, I was glad it was a private university, and so no one could come and mob me. At about 3pm, I got to school and settled the 12 who weren’t impressed at all. And that’s the sad reality of the service industry. If the delivery/ logistics process isn’t smooth, the value of the product just seems to reduce. 
 
The tailor called just as I was done settling these guys that that the clothes were ready and that he needs a method to deliver. I didn’t know if I should curse him out, or cry or go back to Lagos. But I serve a living God and he made a call come through. It was JD who asked on the update, and after explaining, offered to bring these clothes down with the then reigning Red cab. I couldn’t thank her enough. At 6pm, people were already tricking into the marquee for the event but the 10 men standing were red with anger. I kept begging that it would come. They knew better and took their minds off it. At 8pm, JD showed up. Oh!!! The relief was out of this world. I gave these guys their clothes, while she started her journey back to Lagos. 
 
If I ever doubted my love for this babe, this singular occurrence cleared the doubt. As fate would have it, best dressed was among those guys, Male face of the year was part of them and also best clique had someone wearing my outfit. My thanks to God knew no bounds but my dabbling into cloth making knew a bound as that was the last time I dared to do such commercially. Till today, I’ve not paid JD though, but that’s because whenever I say ‘you are getting the money of that time’ she would say ‘no, you’ve paid in many other ways’. That’s one of the reasons I can’t leave JD. She’s what we call a ride or ride (I can’t say ride or die because no one is dying and we are Africans, we don’t play with such words). 
 
Many days later, I was at immigration, at the airport, getting set to leave. Otunba didn’t come along but we had solo time so hours before I left. I’d miss this man so much: his drama, his sense of humor and his domineering demeanor. He really is my father!
“So this is your first time out of the country, asked the immigration officer. I just ignored him, as if Ghana isn’t “out of the country”. Then, his next demand was my invitation letter. Who needs an invitation letter to see his own dad? I tried to explain my dad was going to pick me up but he wasn’t having it. He said he would not allow me embarrass Nigeria in Netherlands, and get deported, so he would send me back here. 
I almost peeped my pants (boxers I mean). How could this be happening to me? 
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Click here to read part 5.
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Bachelor’s Sojourn- Part 3


This story started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.

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‘If only your grades are fine as the ladies who come to see you’ or ‘ if your GP is as spotless as your face’. Those were the usual lines Otunba would usually use when he sees me with a girl and it never bothered me.  
But this time is different!!! This man just came to spoil show.
Apart from the money that business owners have, every other thing about their lifestyle can be annoying. Otunba can leave for the office at 4pm or return from work at 11am after leaving the house at 9:30. Don’t get me wrong, he never complains about a lady in my room. Instead, he praises me, depending on the beauty of the lady but he never indulges me to be randy. However, when I do something wrong, such as my every semester wrong doing of a low CGPA, Otunba would finish my career. His tongue-lashing always resets my brain…even though the reset is always short-lived.
 
“Well, I need you to go to the bank to cash this cheque. The account manager is waiting for you. Your friend can go with you”, he said. 
As we walked out and Otunba saw Mimi’s backside, he tapped my shoulder with that ‘that’s my boy’ grin on his face. As I got into the compound, I ran into my mother who gave her usual disapproving. She called me to one side and asked where I was going. I explained that Otunba sent me to the bank and she said ‘iya baba e ni o npa iro fun’ meaning it’s your father’s mum you are lying to. Sometimes I wonder whom she’s referring to when she says this. Is it Otunba’s mum or Popo’s mum? She says something of that nature at least every week, dissing my dad’s mum or dad. She does know that my future wife would say the same to my kids, right? Oh well!
 
In the end, my little stint Mimi didn’t click o. After leaving the bank, we split. After some weeks, I saw her proposal video on Instagram, which was followed by introduction. My heart sank. Not because I was in love with her or anything, but I always secretly hoped I’d get another opportunity to play our little dice games. Again, don’t blame me till you meet Mimi. But low key, luck was about to smile on me, without my knowledge!!!
Some 2 months after Mimi’s introduction, all those pictures disappeared from her Instagram page. Therefore, I buzzed her on BBM. She wouldn’t tell me the full details, but summarized their relationship as over. As I would later find out, the fiancée discovered her “sexcapades” and escapades and left her. So I urged her to have a getaway, to cool off (not like she needed one). She asked where, and I said Ghana. Guess what? Mimi said okay. See why I said luck was about to smile on me.
 
We drew up a plan, agreed to split the bills (I like this type of babe, no money palavers) go to Ghana by road, and return by air. Before we knew it, our plan materialized! Few days later, we landed Ghana at about 11pm; it was a 14-hour journey. We’d booked a hotel online, so the moment the ABC bus dropped us close to Accra Mall, we took a cab to our hotel. After about 40 minutes, we were well settled, and I set off to sleep. I was between dosing and sleeping when I felt a very warm sensation in my “nether region”. Lorokan, Mimi gave me one mouth action that night. I was close to passing out. Sorry, I lie, I meant I passed out, because that was the end for the night, but also the beginning of a 4 day long sexual adventure. See why I say “Almighty Mimi” Choi!
 
Mimi is a porn star. No, I give it to her. My original plan was to do EVERYTHING to this girl but boy!! I was a learner? Mimi took me to Antarctica, then Sahara desert and then the deep ends of the Atlantic Ocean. This babe was dominating as hell!!
Wait, did I tell you she was a little over 2 years older than me? So her domination came from every angle! If she says it’s time to stop, it’s time to stop. You can’t seduce Mimi. She has a mind of her own, and would do only what she wants to. In 4 days, we went out only twice, to take a walk on the street. All we did was watch TV, have sex, sleep, have more sex, eat, drink, have crazy sex, sleep, eat, have some type of sex, watch TV, take a walk, drink, try out some weird sex position, bath together and sleep. 
 
So you see why Ghana was a waste of money? Not a total waste but we could have done this in a random hotel in our beloved country. Well, I got my passport dis-virgin, so it counts, right? Yes, thank you! And you know the best part of all these? There were no emotions, no complications. Mimi never asked me “what are we doing, where is this headed to” and the likes. Mimi, I duff my hat for you from here oh!!
 
 
My mind raced all day at the idea of moving to Netherlands. Mum said she would tell Popo to discuss with me, while she would handle Otunba. I got on the Internet to see what it had to offer about Netherlands. I was able to discover the following: it’s another place that can be termed ‘sin city’, red light district and prostitution is legal, farming is very prominent and it’s a relatively peaceful city, ranking high in the world. It didn’t sound bad.
 
Over the weeks, plans for my relocation went in full gear. Obtaining visa was smooth since Popo is a citizen, who worked with law enforcement. Apparently, it’s easier for them to file for children and get good benefits. I wonder what mum told Otunba that made him buy this idea. Parents can be funny at times. The thing you expect them to raise the roof for, would go smoothly while the trivial matters would bring an earthquake. I ensured I was at my best during this period. 
 
When it was a few days to go, I told some friends I was going to Netherlands for a while, to chill. You know, in this part of the world, you never let people in on your plans. There is this fear that they would jeopardize or jinx it. So there was a small send off party for me.
A number of friends including Mimi attended. And my intern, Karelle attended also. You forgot about her? Please don’t. Over the weeks, we have been cool. After work, we would head to different places to hang out. Cactus at Ozumba Mbadiwe to have ice cream, Shaun’s bar for karaoke or a totally random lounge and have shots. Also, like almost everyone who schooled in the states, she drinks a lot, and knows how to drink. Karelle is a foodie. And it annoys me. Why? She’s in the league of people who eat everything they see but nothing shows on their body. She can eat at anytime also, and the more she eats, the flatter her tummy. Unlike me: If I eat at 9pm for 3 consecutive days, I start looking like soaked puff-puff. Well, Otunba is big, so it’s a reflection of his I’m displaying. Thank you, I know he’s not my “birth father”.
On one of those happy-hour days, Karelle and I went to a live band and we were having shots of tequila. When I felt I was getting close to my alcohol elastic limit, I told her I was done. She said ‘take one more, and I’ll kiss you’. To be honest, I’d taken away any other thoughts apart from platonic friendship off my mind, as relating to Karelle. But since it’s an invitation, why not. As I took the shot, she pouted for me to get my kiss. As a sharp guy, I longed forward and just few inches away, this babe used her palm to push my lips away saying “Ashewo kobo kobo’. Arghhhhh! This thing entered my body, deep into my marrows. Na me babe do like this? I laughed it off and more strongly, zeroed my mind and forgot about having anything with her. 
 
On the day of my send forth, she came in a pair of these denim looking leggings, a plaid shirt with some top buttons flying loose, Nike air max and a hat. She wasn’t necessarily looking the hottest but her accent when she spoke got everyone’s attention. All these IJGBs (I just got back) people coming to show themselves. So I was seated on a chair when she walks up to me, and sits on my laps, and starts talking about how she would miss me and wish I would stay longer and the likes. I just hugged her as she was in my laps, and some of my guys went hailing me ‘DJ! Bad guy! Sure boy’. I tried to explain that she was just a colleague and it’s nothing per se and you know the usual response: “Oga, who ask you question?” Karelle then says ‘everyone calls you bad guy and all that. Why didn’t you make a pass at me since’. I deemed that as a question which needed a physical response, not verbal. So I stood her up, and ask that she followed me, so I would explain why. 
I had to SHOW her that I only let my slide pass, not that I couldn’t. I found a good spot and tried to be spontaneous by giving her a swift, unexpected kiss. But this babe just turned face away, so my lips landed on her cheeks. ‘This one is not well oh’, I thought. So I put on my seduction skills, and start talking about how fond I am of her, while I stroked her hair, both my hands were on her waist, trying to hug her and kiss her nape. I moved slowly from nape, to cheeks, and then lips. She stayed put. Ehen!!!!! Correct!  I was kissing more of lip-gloss though, but I didn’t mind. I planned to really get her in the mood before leaving this corridor for a room. 
She’s an excellent kisser. I pulled her so close, enjoying the scent of her perfumes, while she held my head. I stopped abruptly and said ‘follow me’. She obliged. I took her to my room, and as I opened the door, Mimi was on her knees, doing justice to Bimbo. This boy is just mad. The fact that he has access to almost every part of my house doesn’t give him the right to dull my shine. I cussed out on him, closed the door and thought of where to go to. I decided to take her to the boy’s quarters, a building separate from the main house. As we were walking out of the house, guess what?
My girlfriend is in the compound, walking into the main building.
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Click here to read part 4
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Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 2


This story started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.

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“Are you Deji? The GM said I should call you”. Kai, who has this fine voice? It definitely does not belong to a staff. I look up and it’s the fine lady that was in the Corolla. She brought me back to reality. My sweat pangs were out. We both walked to GM’s office.

“Deji, Good morning. Meet Karelle, our new intern. She would help more in administrative works but please teach her as much as you know on everything. She also went to a private university, so I guess you both would get along easily. Karelle,you would meet the MD when he gets back during the week”.

 

I replied the GM, left his office with Karelle and told her to feel free to ask me anything. In my mind, I meant ‘ask me everything’.

 

“I attended Bowen University. Which did you attend?” I asked. She replied “North Western University”. In my mind, I wondered where that was. I’d sized her up and thought it would be Covenant University or maybe ABTIL.

“Eeerrr where is that? Niger Delta?” I asked.

“No, it’s in Chicago. It’s a private university in Chicago “, she quipped. Aye mi ooohh!!! GM just made a fool of me sha. I should have known o. Her accent had some Yankee twist to it but my yeye Bowen pride and accent took over. How private University in Naija and Chicago take relate na? Well, I must level up. The spirit of “I must belong no go kill me”!

‘I see. You even look like one of them’ I said.

‘Oh please, come on! I’m a full blown Nigerian, Nnewi to be precise ‘ she replied with a push-tap on my shoulder. Yass!! She’s already touching me. DJ for the win!! Bimbo and I have been counting scores with babes, but with this American goal I’m about to score, I’m about to lead with a wide margin. Office romance loading….

 

When I got home later that day, my mum explained to me that Otunba was still very upset. Well, that’s not news. His anger usually takes a week or two: In fact, a semester. Otunba has showed me pepper. He has never hit me before, funny enough. But he knows how to deal with you financially and emotionally. ‎But the funny thing is, I like him a lot! You’re thinking: “Before! Isn’t he your father?”. I’d explain:

Remember Bruce Jenner? One of those Kardashians? Remember he used to be the father, until he changed gender, and became a woman. Someone said he expected his daughters and sons to disown him as their father, since he’s no more a man. ‎But I wonder why that should matter. Does changing sex erode all the things he has done for you as a father? I bet not. And that’s why I like Otunba. Making sense now? NO, Otunba did not change gender!!

Otunba isn’t my real dad. He’s my mum’s husband.

I’ve never met Popo before. Popo is my real dad, whose name is Mr. Popoola. But we communicate, exchange mails and have video called twice. In my view, my father is who was there for me, not who poured semen inside my mother. So I have extremely minimal sentiments and attachment to him. I only remember him when I’ve offended Otunba and he tells me not to touch his TV or refuse to pay my school fees on time.

That school part is bad. When Otunba’s driver drops me in school, it’s usually a Mercedes Benz or a Lexus jeep or something of that nature. So I look like the regular bad guy,in a private university. But if I mistakenly offend him, I would look like someone who a cooperative of farmers are paying his school fees. And it’s really a tough time. That makes me remember my police father (you see why we call him Popo? Popo as in police, Popoola as his real name). Popo works and lives in the Netherlands. He once threatened Otunba, that the day he touches me, is the day he would regret his existence. Well, not like Otunba is scared of such, because if they were both in this country, he would be Otunba’s chief security officer.

 

Anyway, after mum explained Otunba’s grievances, she told me she and my dad had been having conversations in recent times about me moving to the Netherlands. Eyyyy!!!!!! This is scary!! Otunba won’t accept. I don’t know what to expect out there, in another country. I’ve only been abroad only once. Well, if Ghana would pass as abroad.

 

Ghana. I wasted money on that trip. ‎I went with Mimi. Mimi of life! Almighty Mimi!! One Mimi, one Nation!!! One of my guys had Mimi on his BBM display picture, so I asked what’s up with her and he said she was a one-time fling and that he knows a few guys who had smashed her, so she wasn’t a big deal. I said ‘guy, give me this babe, make I build mansion there. I no dey do one time’. He gave me, and after two days conversation, Mimi was in a cab to my house. As she had her own business, she had the luxury of time.

 

I like babes who would take a cab to come see you, and not even think it’s expected of you to pay for the fare. I told the gateman to open the gate for her, while I stalled a little to open the front door. I wanted her to gawk a little at Otunba’s beautiful compound. I opened the kitchen door; so she would know that we also use Air conditioning in the kitchen, and had a TV in it- don’t judge me till you meet Mimi…except she didn’t look like she gave a hoot about all that. That’s her business ooo. Me, I must smash today.

 

As we walked to my room, my mind kept racing. She’s as pretty as she looked in pictures but that voluptuous body was curvier than the picture. She wore this body-con dress made of a very light material, so all her contours were screaming!! Choi! Her body kept saying ‘come and do’, looking like those girls who danced in the music video for ‘pass the agbara’ by the Skuki brothers. Her make up was top notch (however, I later discovered the excessive make up was to cover a not too smooth face).

 

I asked if Baileys was a good drink, she said yes. I wanted her to be under the influence, but not too drunk to be unaware or unconscious of our “business”. Before going to the bathroom to have a quick shower, I had a glass with her, and played ‘wa fe ku lale yi’ by Reminisce. She needed to realize we aren’t here to play, but to get to business. When I got out of the shower, Mimi was done with the Baileys! Chale!!! This one had better not pass out b4 we start anything oh! Without looking at me, she asked for something stronger. Something like Jack Daniels. I went to the bar to get Remy Martin’s and by the time I was back, this babe was smoking in my room. Ehn ehn!!

 

Now, let me say this. Based on comments from my friends, and also voices from my inner man, I’m a sure guy. I don’t drink too much, I can smash almost any babe I put my mind to, and I’m readily available for major fun. There’s a way I would track a babe, and know that it’s s sure deal. Even if she’s fronting, I can work around it and hit the target. So scoring with Mimi was something I’d assessed as possible. But I needed a plan. I mean, in our chats, I’d only said things like ‘choi, this your body is hot, If I catch you ehn! The things I’m doing to you in my head ehn!” and such nuances. She would just say things like ‘lol’ or ‘ yimu’ or ‘leave it like that’. So you see, she’s not necessarily saying yes, neither is she saying no. I decided that we should play truth or dare; she said it’s too boring. Lobatan! She then offered a game from her phone.

 

It’s a game that has two dices. One dice has the following sides: Kiss, Suck, Caress, Bite, Nibble and “your choice” ‘ while the other dice had Ears, Lips, Nether Regions, Boobs, Thighs, Nape’. Then we started playing. Of course, Mimi went first.

She rolled ‎’bite ears’ on the dices. E jo, what is this? I blurted! She laughed, moved closer, bit my ears, n proceeded to lick for some extra seconds. Then she smacked her tongue, exhaled and just did some magic, while on my ears. O boy! I knew I was in for it. Then she stopped. It was my turn next. I rolled ‘nibble thighs’. Please, what’s all this? How does one nibble on thighs? A phone call came in on her phone, and as she picked it, I went to do the mumu task. She didn’t even flinch one bit! Her call lasted for about a minute more, and we continued. She played a ‘suck boobs’ and that‎ caused us to both laugh. “This flat chest of mine? Kuku kill me” I chuckled. She used her fingers to tell me to raise my net T-shirt up, which I did. With a very seductive look, she pushed me on the bed, closed my legs together and sat on me and started this task…She pulled her dress up higher, and I saw that as an invitation, as I grabbed her, but she removed my hands, and pinned them to the end of the bed. After some seconds on this play that brings me no sensation, she holds my two wrists with a hand, and used the other hand to loosen the band of my joggers. All that was on my mind at this point was how to tell Bimbo this gist. One more time, I’m gonna smash a babe at the first meeting…She finally gets my joggers down and she begins to slide her body down, to start what I suppose was an insane oral sensation. Man, I was on fire!! I just hit a jackpot!!!

 

Just before her mouth gets to work, I hear Otunba’s voice calling my name, just outside my room. Holy crap!! I bundled her off me, and we quickly package and then I open the door for Otunba. Remember my last encounter with Otunba? By the Mikano generator?

 

“Deji, I need you to meet my account manager to……haaa, you have a visitor. Omo baba ee! Hello, young woman”.

 

‘Good afternoon, sir ‘, Mimi said.

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Featured post

Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 1


Why are these passengers looking at me weird?” Well maybe they are not even looking at me; I’m probably the one being weird. You can’t blame me though; I’ve not gotten into a “Danfo”(local public bus, usually very rickety) in at least 6 years.

The last time I got into one was during JAMB lessons. That was a major highlight for any secondary school (high school) graduate in Nigeria. On my last occasion of dealing with a “danfo”, we had finished classes, and my crew and I were headed to a game house (where you pay to play Play Station and Xbox games). We were almost at the game house, when we saw people running all over the place! Sheesh! Lagos city and its madness!! I could have sworn that someone just saw something funny and screamed, started running and others followed suit, without knowing the cause. But no! This time was different: there was a reason- Masquerades! They were dressed in their regalia holding and lashing out their canes and whips (or “Koboko”). Apparently, they were asking for money and harassing people. We came to quickly learn that if we didn’t want to be harassed, we had to settle them. “Awon werey” (Mad people)- one of my friends hissed. Let’s just say he’s still traumatized from the aftermath of that comment, as one of the masquerades heard him. Ha! As the chaos was going on, some soldiers were passing by. Trust Naija soldiers with their hardened-always-angry-unfriendly faces-but-always-ready-to-exercise-power personalities; they jumped on the chaos that was going on! They accosted the masquerades, collected their whips and commanded them all to lie flat on the scorching hot rocky road. “Shebi you think you are mad”, the fair skinned military man barked out at the now sweaty bunch of “masquerades”. After some time, they told them to do frog jump. That was the funniest thing ever. A crowd gathered, laughing at them. Nigerian law enforcement officers are made in China, however: they don’t last. So they told the masquerades to continue frog jump and go their way. The moment the soldiers got into their trucks, masquerades took over. Trust us to scramble once again.

 

My crew scattered. Trust my Kito sandals to be there for me. But it looked like the masquerades were gaining momentum. Luckily for me, a danfo was picking up passengers so I hopped into one and I was safe. The area still had them around, so my only bet was to follow the danfo. Choi! That’s how I was taken from Ikeja “under the bridge” to Egbeda. I used my game money to pay the fare. Thank God I knew my mother’s phone number, as she was the one who came to pick me at Egbeda.

 

‘Alaye, owo e da’. The conductor jerked me back to reality as he requested for his fare. I took out the 150 Naira I’d kept in my breast pocket and gave him- you must not carry last in this town. The remaining money was safely stored in my deep holed trouser pocket. Every 30 seconds, I would check my pocket and if the person beside me touches me, I would touch my zipper region stylishly. We’ve heard too many tales of disappearing penises and boobs and the likes by an ordinary touch, especially during Christmas period. The desperation for money had no end. And God knew I was not about to become a victim.

 

I got off at my bus stop and took a bike as my colleague had told me. Okada riders know everywhere, so that was my best bet to the office. I kept wondering how the gateman would look at me as I arrived the office, getting off an Okada- a whole omo Otunba, taking okada. I’m sure that Danfo had drained all my Calvin Klein Euphoria perfume. I had some sweat patch at my armpit region.

 

Of all days for this gateman called Ochuko to be outside, he chose today. Buying bread and akara on a Monday morning. Why couldn’t he be inside, so he would not see me get off an Okada. Abeg, I would tell him the car had a fault down the street.

 

‘DJ of life! How na? Which one be Okada today na?

I knew it!! He had to greet me with the Okada line. Bad belle! World people!!

As I was paying the okada rider, one Toyota Corolla pulled up at the gate.

‘Is this T n T Global Services’, asked the make up on fleek-nerdy glasses-no-cleavage-showing-lady.

Ochuko spoke to her for some seconds and opened the gate for her. I clutched my laptop bag to my back, went in and sat directly under the Air conditioner near my desk. While cooling off, I reminisced on the events of the weekend.

 

Grill at the Pent (GATP) is a Sunday all night clubbing event on the island in Lagos. You only find a set of people there – Children of all these politicians who have stolen all our money for their kids, Some Malaysian ‘I just got back’ crew, Or children of oil barons. If a banker attends GATP, he would go with about 5 friends, and they must be ready to spend half-month salary, each. The cars parked there are enough to make you reconsider going in.

 

So my guy, Bimbo, who is a Prince, said we should go to GATP. His sister had gotten married two weeks back, so his share from the money from various governors and senators must be plenty in his hand. He came over, parked his car, and we took mine. I must not dull. The night went well. We popped two bottles of Moet and bought one bottle of Ciroc. That’s good enough for 4 guys at a table. If you think otherwise, come and beat me!

We paid the bills. All went well.

We drove home, even though tipsy. All went well.

It was time to park my car. All didn’t go well!!!

How I managed to think D was R on the gear amazes me. I crashed into the Mikano generator. And it went off. Now, it’s not like the car was badly damaged but the impact was enough to make the generator go off. And Otunba came down. Picture me now, tipsy, my hands interlocked on my head! “Gbese”!!

 

Otunba is my dad. Otunba looks like Idi Amin. Huge, big tummy, and always frowning! Even his laughter still has frowns in it. I try to explain what happened but he won’t hear it. I don’t know why I bothered. He never listens to you when you do wrong. All I remember is him saying ‘don’t touch any of my cars again’ and after some 10 minutes, he drove out to sleep in a guesthouse nearby, which he owns. I guess his judgment comes tomorrow.

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