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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Aboard the Air Force One


I natter around alot. In conversations, on the internet and in my mind. So I wondered what it is like to fly aboard the Air Force One ( the official carrier of the President of The United States of America). Guess what? Some people who had worked with him, who were not staff of the Presidency or cabin crew did have some things to say. Intriguing, I must say.

Air Force One Mini Series:  On Board Air Force One
NGCUS  - Ep Code: 4206

Here’s an excerpt from my reading:

Peter Marquez, Space policy geek.

It’s awesome. I only got to fly on her once. I really wish some other former White House staff would answer some of these questions- I know A LOT of other people flew on AF1 and have much better information than I have.

The staff is amazing and after flying on AF1 you will NEVER want to fly commercial again. The experience starts before you even get on the plane.  You are transported from the White House to Andrews and you get to drive right up to the airplane and leave the vehicle and walk up into the plane.  (Only the president and his close staff get the Marine 1 transport to Andrews)

It’s very comfortable- huge seats, desks and tables for working. A full conference room with flat screens and video teleconferencing capability. There’s a computer room with Internet access.

One of the greatest things about AF1 has nothing to do with the aircraft itself– it’s the people that make AF1 run.  All of the AF1 staff appear to really enjoy their jobs and they take great pride in their work.  It definitely appeared that none of them took this great opportunity for granted.  They are also well versed in the history of AF1 and can tell you stories about all the previous AF1s.

The trip I was on was very short.  We were flying from DC to Kennedy Space Center for a speech President Obama was giving.   During the flight I had been helping to work and rework a speech the President was about to give. He kept coming out of his cabin with more edits and changes.  After another round of edits from the boss an attendant looked at me and asked if I needed anything. I jokingly said, “Yes, a nice strong drink. Preferably a single malt” (it was about 9 or 10AM). Without pausing the attendant asks, “what brand and what year?” I had to tell him I was joking.

In addition to my colleagues and a few members of Congress we also had Buzz Aldrin on the flight.  Dr. Aldrin was seated next to me at our table and he starts to get a bit fidgety, he looks around, and he says, “You wanna go take a look around?”

So I stop working for a minute and Dr. Aldrin and I start checking out AF1.  We make it over to the stairs that lead to the upper deck and cockpit and one of the staff members asks if we want to head upstairs and check out the cockpit.  Dr. Aldrin got a big smile on his face and looked at me- we were both smiling like little kids.  Did we want to see the cockpit of AF1? Seriously? You have to ask?

So Dr. Aldrin and I make it up to the flight deck and all of the Air Force officers are in awe of this moon walker and here’s Buzz Aldrin happy as a little kid because he’s hanging out in the cockpit of AF1.  Dr. Aldrin goes into the cockpit and I stand outside of it with my head sticking through the doorway.  So here I am- essentially a nobody and I’m hanging out in the cockpit of AF1, with the pilots, while AF1 is in flight, and I’m with Buzz Aldrin.  Somewhere back in time the 10 year old version of me was saying, “You have got to be kidding me…”

It was way too short of a flight. But just a couple of more interesting bits.

First, as we started to descend I instinctively went back to my seat and buckled up.  But I noticed a lot of the other “frequent flyers” were still up and walking around.  So I asked one of them, “When are we supposed to sit down?”  They just kind of laughed at my “noob question” and said something to the effect of– “You don’t really have to sit down at all just watch how the pilot lands this thing.”  So people were still up and walking around as the plane landed. For someone who had only flown commercial it was a fascinating to me for some reason.  Sure enough- the pilot put her down like a feather and came to a gentle stop. Second, we landed on the space shuttle runway.

Another thing that blew my mind.  Of course we were going to an event at Kennedy Space Center so the closest runway is the space shuttle runway- but landing in AF1 on the space shuttle runway was more mind blowing then not having to sit down during landing.

Finally, you get a bill for the food you eat on AF1 (this may be the only thing AF1 has in common with United).  Since you are eating a meal on AF1 you are doing so at taxpayer expense.  This means you have to reimburse the government for whatever you ate.  That’s completely fair and the right thing to do but it’s something you wouldn’t immediately consider when flying on AF1.  So about a week after my AF1 flight I got a bill sent to me for the lunch I ate on AF1.  That bill made for a great souvenir.

One more thing- if you make a phone call from AF1 it’s routed through a couple of operators who sit up on the flight deck.  They make the outgoing call for you and then they connect you to the person once they make the call.  The cool part is that when they call person for you they say something to the effect of (my memory is a bit fuzzy here), “This is Air Force One, we have a call from <whatever your name is> can you hold while I connect you?” I think just receiving a call from AF1 would be amazing.

 

Jim Long , veteran, Washington, DC based, network news cameraman.

I occasionally fly on Air Force One as part of my job covering the White House as a network news cameraman for NBC.  The best part of traveling on Air Force One is walking on and walking off the plane.  That’s where the adventure is.  You’ve landed and you have to run to your motorcade vehicle – for us it’s “Camera 1” – or you’re boarding the plane, about to embark on a global journey, sometimes a very secret one.

 

I’ve had some memorable flights on the plane.  I’ve done interviews with Presidents on the plane, one while in-flight, with Tom Brokaw and Brian Williams. On a trip to Rome for the funeral of Pope John Paul II, we had 41, 42, and 43 on board. I was on the aircraft when Katrina hit New Orleans.  I remember them calling AP photographer Susan Walsh up to the front cabin to take the picture of Bush peering down at the disaster below. The staff is wonderful.  The even treat the press well! We are relegated to the aft of the aircraft and occasionally the President will come back to speak with the us.  The flying part is just flying, but on AF1 you’re always part of history in the making.  That’s pretty cool.

katrina

 

Joe Lockhart, Former White House Press Secretary

Without a doubt, the best plane in the world to fly on.  First and most importantly, you feel absolutely safe.  No matter how bad the weather conditions or turbulence you always have the feeling that, because the President of the United States in onboard, nothing bad can happen.  It’s the best pilots, the best maintained and crewed airplane in the world.  And, there are no delays or lost luggage. It’s also quite comfortable. A commercial 747 normally seats several hundred people.  The normal Air Force One flight generally has about 50-60 people on board.  While it’s not outfitted like some billionaires private jet, there is plenty of room and plenty of room to work — which is what most people are doing most of the time on the plane. There are a variety of other perks, great movies(although i don’t recommend Air Force One while on Air Force One), getting to watch yourself land on live TV and lots of things with the Air Force One branding that magically disappear each flight. But without a doubt, the best part is who you are traveling with.  My favorite scene was the senior staff cabin one trip with Presidents Bush and President Ford asleep in their seats and President Carter asleep stretched out on the floor.

Rakesh Agrawal, 4 MM frequent flier miles and counting

It depends on who you are: the President and family, invited dignitaries, White House staff, Secret Service or press. All have different experiences. The big advantages of flying on Air Force One:

  • Hobnobbing with power players. By definition, Air Force One is a plane with the President on it. There are many aircraft that have been used as Air Force One. Currently, there are two VC-25s (essentially heavily modified 747s) that serve as Air Force One. There are usually other top aides and members of the press.
  • Don’t have to deal with the TSA (the Nigerian version is NAHCO), though you do have to deal with the Secret Service.
  • Priority landing.
  • The big downside is that if you’re on the plane, you’re probably working.
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7 countries in 7 days


“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover’’

– H. Jackson Brown Jr.

 

I never for once considered myself as a well-travelled individual. I’ve been to a few cities albeit common and not so exciting; London, Paris, New York, Dubai, Dublin and the list goes on. I developed a soft spot for all afore mentioned cities, but if you told me you were going to any of these for vacation I would literally squint at you till you get the message (Yo, im not saying I won’t go if offered o).

 

Summer 2015 I decided to do something different, I got an idea to visit more than 7 countries in the space of 7 nights. Crazy Crazy Crazy!! What was I thinking, how could I afford such? How much do I even have as savings? Before I go on, my uncle always said a knowledgeable man is a powerful man, if you don’t ask questions you will never know.

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So here we go, I got an idea to go on a boat cruise with friends touring the eastern Caribbean countries. My itinerary looked something like this:

Lagos – Houston – Fort Lauderdale-Bahamas- St.Thomas -St.Marteen – Eleuthera – Barbados – Jamaica – Fort Lauderdale – Houston – Maryland – Lagos.

 

  1. Lagos – Houston: I was all too familiar with this route, standard 12 hour flight to George W Bush Airport Houston. At the time, United Airline was the only carrier that offered this direct flight to Houston, pretty long flight but relatively stress free.
  2. Houston – Fort Lauderdale: The fun actually began here, 2 hour airport wait went by so fast. Flew united to Florida, upon landing the pilot couldn’t ‘’taxi’’ because there was a thunderstorm and appaz it’s a health & safety hazard because someone got hit by lightening the previous week. Well, this was no problem till I realized I had just 45 mins left to catch the ship.
  3. Fort Lauderdale: America is really beautiful. It trips me knowing that all states are almost as equal in development, unlike most African countries where civilization and development is centered in the capital. We need CHANGE!

Major key 1: To embark on the cruise, all you need is an American Visa, that covers all countries visited.

Take a deep breathe now, and gush at the ‘canoe’ I used in visiting 7 countries:

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  1. Port le Fort Lauderdale: The first thing that catches you is the size of the ship. The Oasis beats the Titanic in every dimension. The titanic was around 46,000gt, carrying about 3547 passengers and crew (credits to google) while the oasis measures 225,000gt (5 times bigger than Titanic!!) and can carry a maximum of 8,471 passengers on 17 deck. Yes 17 story building on water.

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Major key 2 : Tickets for the cruise are booked months in advance for best rates and do NOT FORGET YOUR PASSPORT AT HOME.

Check in: the check-in process is very straightforward, there are literally no queues and once you board the ship, it’s literally an entirely different world. You are given a smart card that serves as your ATM card on the ship, access card to your room and has all other personal details. Minority report kinda stuff.Forgot to mention.

IMG-20160816-WA027IMG-20160816-WA026Fort Lauderdale – Bahamas: Nassau was the first stop, it took us about 10-15 hours from the port and you wake up to scenes of the sun rising over the great city of Atlantis.

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Nassau, Bahamas: I’ve heard so many great things of this city, unfortunately as a tourist entering via the port. You aren’t allowed to go beyond the tourist areas, sort of like a high street where tourists are entertained. There are no physical restrictions against going beyond this high street, but you are sternly advised not to, to prevent harassment from the locals.Nassau has semblances to Lagos Airport, upon arrival at the port you are greeted with a host of locals who are trying to hustle you to patronize them. Tourism is their major source of revenue. And weed of course.

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I have a long list of countries I would want to visit next. I’ve learnt not to bother spending a lot for cliché trips……….

if you want to see more of travel related posts, click here.

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Selfies. 


Have you noticed that some friends, when using their folks’ pictures, use the same thing. Be it mother’s day, birthday, burial anniversary, or when they want to show appreciation to them.
Apparently,many of us do not deem it fit to take Selfies with siblings any  parents. I’ve met folks who would go through so much trouble trying to locate a family member’s picture. And then I wonder why.
Il tell you this: taking Selfies or pictures with them make them feel so loved. Remember, they come from a generation where cameras and pictures were a big deal, and that mindset hasn’t really cleared off completely. I remember a while ago,at d advent of the camera phone,my mum would complain of taking too much pictures,as if I’m wasting film( as seen in d cameras of old). Take pictures of, and with them, and let them have so many pictures,as it keeps memories. Like i’ll always say, they need next to nothing from us. Just some attention,care, love and grandchildren, I guess.
Secondly, remember they are attaining their prime. And as such, Heaven might be calling soon. Other than the memories of experiences, pictures are the next best bet. I could spend 2 hours going through my parent’s hard copy pictures .
For a refresher on how to make folks feel great again, click here.
Have fun,guys!!!

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