GUYS! WHO STOPS WHERE?

 

 

Blood of Jesus!!! I jumped up and shouted, it was like the whole earth was vibrating, my heart pounded as I reached for the bedside lamp. I zipped my hand under my bed to get my golf stick & held my anointing oil with the other hand. My eyes beamed like Redhead lights as I tried to trace the shrilling sound, suddenly it came up again & I carefully followed the sound to m...

y pillow. I shivered as I raised the pillow with the club, gave a long hiss when I realized it was my phone that had been staging a drama. I wondered how it was switched to the vibrate sound but I thanked Heavens the thriller ended without any ado. So why would my phone ring at past 1am, I thought, but was agitated when I saw 39 missed calls & massive BBM pings from just one person…my cousin!

 

 

What sort of emergency could this be? I finally reached her after a couple of trials, she sounded unstable and said her friend, Linda, is between life and death, after being beaten for over 3hrs by her boyfriend(Linda’s) she said her boyfriend immediately they arrived from his friend’s party. The battering kicked off when Linda complained about her boyfriend’s friends’ attitude of excessive smoking, drinking & flirting with ladies even in her presence. She narrated that he lurched on her with thick copper wire, dragged her to his room, shut the door and descended heavily on her, Linda could barely gain strength to stop him. My cousin wanted me to help call the police or rather forward some security numbers to help salvage the situation as she claimed he was still beating her.

 

 I didn’t know what to say, words were missing, I asked if it was the boyfriend that threw a big party for Linda on her birthday, the same guy that showered her with loads of expensive gifts, the same guy Linda claimed was going to marry her even without knowing him too well. She muttered, “yes, the same guy!” I forwarded some numbers to her as I recapped the whole birthday and the merriment scene again.

It was a Saturday evening, looking like a small get-together party, I was invited by my cousin (an under- graduate), so I decided to go with a friend to keep me company. The atmosphere was cool, there was enough to munch and quaff, rhythm serenading the atmosphere and the cake at the center waiting to be cut. Then suddenly, the main guy breezed in with his clique carrying a very big cake carton & a gift bag. It was unnecessary to introduce who he was as Linda threw herself on him, the kisses were all over.

The ladies were struck when they saw the content of the goody bag – a jewelry box, iPhone 5, an Ox-Blood Christian Louboutin 6” Platforms, the cake wasn’t left out of the luxury as the sugar craft that bore Linda’s image could only have been made by the “Cakes by Tosan” of this world. The ladies didn’t stop screaming and adoring the lavish gifts, I bet most of them were green with envy. Even my friend couldn’t help but ask the guy’s job occupation as the gift package totaled to over 500k.

I thought the show off had ended; little did I know more was yet to come, Linda craved her guests’ indulgence to join the party in an hour & elegantly waltzed to a swanky car with the man of her dreams. I was still trying to find my feet when a petite lady announced that the party has been moved to a popular club in Ikeja (name withheld). Apparently, Linda’s boyfriend moved the party.

At this point, my friend really got cranky (probably because he’s an accountant with a medium size company & understands the figures incurred), but I begged him to come along to see all the drama. It was a long convoy, with so much buzz on the highway. Trust me, it was a night of fun, we all wished the party wouldn’t end. To be fair, I’m sure that guy would have spent at least 900k on Linda’s birthday party that day and she was in high spirits. It will only amaze you how guys spend money with no strains, different strokes for different folks, hard times don’t determine spending habits of some men.

My friend and I left that party with different opinions, he felt Linda boyfriend didn’t work for the money and was just a hoaxer or Yahoo boy (according to the Nigerian parlance) considering his age & disposition. I bet most ladies in attendance would have craved for such and put their lovers under so much pressure, but I feel indifferent in all.

Here is my worry; Linda eventually left that relationship with some permanent scars, just after a week we witnessed all the merriment that her peers envied. My question is: Why do some guys deceive ladies with gifts and money just to maltreat them? Are some ladies so incredulous that they get swayed by money and material things at the snap of a finger? How well do ladies know a guy before deciding to go on a date with him or walking down the aisle? These are questions screaming for attention on my mind……

Itz Bellz....

 

WOO,  I TAYA!

So many times I wanna cry,

But my eyes, so dry

Nigeria leaders,

Whom we gave our feathers 

To keep us strong under any weather

Again, we were dropped in the cold weather

 Masses wailing

Politicians smiling

Boko Bombing

Victims’ families wailing

GEJ condemning

Guiltless dying

Burial ground smelling

Innocent killing too many

Campuses are closed

The roads are   damaged

Electricity keeps decreasing

Unemployment increasing

Youngsters want to leave Nigeria by  hook or crook

 13 years old Daniel Ihekina , you are off the hook

Am sure we are in trouble amidst the hook

Police bribing

Yet, politician politicking

For selfish intentions

Holding bare conventions

Putting us in tension 

Yet Government wanna die in power,

For reasons I wonder?

To Suntai, I just wanna say HI

 PDP, ACP PDF , I smile

The disaster I can view from a mile

Same recycle murderers back to play the game 

With no shame

Woo, I taya

But, I know God is our only messiah

From the evil hands of these cabals   

God bless Nigeria

I RAN 3

Hey Folks, so sorry about the hiatus, I have been super busy lately. My apologies.

Last time on my hilarious and memorable childhood story, I RAN, I stopped at the point when I dropped my run away letter and fled.  Oya relax. I know you’ve been waiting for this. Let me take you through the last leg of the story. It’s finally come to an end

I carefully looked left and right to ensure that no one sees me with my thread bare “Ghana Must Go’’ bag.  I got on a bus to Izu’s house almost immediately after hitting the road.  I sat tensely with different thoughts streaming my mind. I was blank to the point that I didn’t hear the deafening voice of the rat killer vendor, until I realized all passengers were alighting.

I walked down the busy road and approached a bike man. I proudly told him I was going to Chief Edet Street. He rolled his eyes and exclaimed “Boy! No street dey bear that name for here”! 

I left him immediately as I presumed he didn’t know the popular Chief Edet, because I remembered that Izu Edet told me his father was wealthy & popular, so I couldn’t have been mistaken. I angrily left the guy and stopped another bike man and told him where I was heading to. He looked up endlessly for a while and said he knew the place very well; I hopped on the bike and zoom we went… 

My eyes were scanning all the street names as we drove. I was looking forward to Edet street. After riding for about 30minutes and consulting all Lagosians, the bike man grumpily spoke up, “My friend, there is no Chief Edet street for this Orilowo Ejigbo. Abeg your money done increase o”. We argued for a while and he briskly dipped his hand in my pocket, took the last money and took off.  Where do I go from here?

I kept walking and asking people for the address but to no avail. My legs hurt and unfortunately, it wasn’t in the GSM era, when I could have called for a description. As the Sun retired for the day, I also retired inside a wrecked danfo (yellow & black stripped commercial bus) along a street. And like the Disciples, I had my last supper (the loaf of bread that was left of me) and hit the sacks. 

While I was still struggling to get a nap, with so many mosquitoes feeding on me, I got a sharp hit on my head, I looked up to see three terrible looking guys. My eyes screamed “horror” as they dragged me out like a strayed dog. Their hands were glued to my body so I won’t escape, they shouted “So nah you dey steal our car stereo abi. Today you go die”; I yelled, “I’m not a thief ooo”. I got the beating of my life that night but I managed to save some strength to slip out of their hands leaving my Ghana-must-go to stay.

 After a reasonable distance away from the scene, I thought about the Yoruba proverbial quote which says, “when moving on is difficult to achieve, then going back is the only option.”  I checked the time and it was some minutes before midnight and then began an unknown journey on foot.

I couldn’t even place where exactly I was I but guess it was Ijegun, which is about far away to my house.  The road was typical of the clichéd silent graveyard, it was just me, myself & I dilly-dallying home and I still wonder where I got that strength to move on.

Hours passed, thank God for His safety. I tiredly crept into my zone some minutes past 2am and then silently climbed the stairs.  I peeped through the broken door knob, and the first person I saw in sight was my dearest mum, seated on the floor, hair ruffled & puffed eyes accompanied by an unknown neighbour, my heart was heavy. I'd never seen my mum in that shape before. I felt bad that I made her go through so much pain. 

Suddenly, I heard some steps behind me. As I thought to run through the next flight of stairs, someone grabbed me and shouted, “Hey boy. Where are you running to? Will you come in now?” He grabbed me and took me in.  Immediately my mum saw me, she shouted “Oluwaseun ooo, Olamitide ooo”.  She jumped at me and gave me a tight hug, with tears rolling down her face. 

I couldn’t help but join her in her tears. I held onto her chest & uttered, “Mum I suffered and I'm sorry.”

Everyone kept asking where I went, and every time I struggled to give a response, tears kept flowing uncontrollably.

The doorbell rang and it was Pop with some of his friends who had been out all night in search of me. I thought he was going to roar, but he cuddled me in my tears. 

Mum still made an effort to prepare my favorite Amala. She sat with me as I shoved every hot ball down my throat like I have never eaten before.  All eyes quietly watched me as I ate.

The next morning was quiet. Pop called me for a short meeting. He said it wasn’t necessary for me to run away. That we could have managed it no matter the situation and he begged that I should tell the whole story, which I did. He promised that I wasn’t going to repeat the class and would rather change my school and save myself all the shame (Pop suddenly became a changed man).

But, I declined.I told him that I would go back to my school, repeat the class and not mind the shame. But I would let people know that I'm not a FAILURE. They were all stunned with my response. I re-assured them that I was going to be the best student at the end of the term.

  

Mum was impressed by my courage and promised to buy me the latest shoe (trekkers) that I had been longing to have and I was excited that I would be getting the shoes, because trekkers were the best shoes for students at that time. Going back to school wasn’t easy especially when you are one of the most popular people in school. But, I overlooked it all and faced the challenge both in the hostel and at home.

Now the story is finally getting to an end innit?

Well I turned out to be the best student of the session (three terms). It’s not a lie. People who knew me well could attest to this, and my parents were really proud of me. That experience changed my life and the memory is still very vivid like the goals of Sunday Mba at the last African Confederations Cup

More stories to come.

Its Bellz

                    

 

I RAN 2

Last time on I RAN, I stopped at the point when my pop insisted we go to my school together to pick my report sheet and I composed a runaway letter…now seat back as I unfold the rest of the story

.

I couldn’t sleep that night; my eyes were wide opened, and my heart beating to every second that ticked.  My mind was flooded with different thoughts.   I looked at the naive sleeping faces of my siblings who had no inkling of what I was up to.  This room is our haven where we initiated our bond hence it’s sacred.

For a moment, I thought about confiding in my elder sister whom I felt should have a better understanding and advise me accordingly, but then I remembered how edgy she could be, she’s an alarmist, and would publicize the news like a native town crier even at the dead of the night.  I heaved a heavy sigh, God was the last option, I prayed fervently and recited all the verses I knew for a miracle but I guess my faith wasn’t strong enough as I assumed my prayers would prove abortive and eventually the worst thoughts came.

When the day broke, pop came to our room to wake me up and reminded me of our outing, I heard him but pretended to be asleep. I dawdled to the bathroom, the sponge was rather heavy and the water suddenly felt like melting ice, it was so sad on me that I wasn’t just deceiving my folks but also myself. I wish the drama could end with just a smash of my head on the walls…nah, I wasn’t considering suicide.  Ola!! Jade ooooo!!! (Ola come out of the bathroom) pop screamed, apparently I had spent longer time in there, I picked up my towel and hopped out within the split of a second.

The dinning was set, I joined dad for a fast breakfast, I wasn’t hungry, it took a lot of shout from mum for me to put some slices of bread through my throat, I wasn’t just in for this. Then the bell struck, my brother reached for the door and it was Mrs. Kasunmu crying uncontrollably with blood dripping from her forehead and ankle.  I wasn’t really surprised though, she has always suffered battering from her irresponsible husband, the drunken husband bonces on his wife each time she complained about his negligence. Her experience prompted me to shun alcohol but trust me, that’s a herculean task in this time. 

Mum rushed to Mrs. Kasunmu and consoled her, while she narrated the events that led to the lashing; Mrs.  Shobowale  finally resolved to leave the marriage within 24hrs. My mum was infuriated and couldn’t help hurling insults at the absent husband. Pop being the wise man he is reassured Mrs. Shobowale  he would take charge of the situation. My Dad isn’t just the estate chairman but also the peace maker, we’ve always advised him to extend his selfless services to political quarters.

Pop asked me to wait for him as they all went (mum inclusive) while my brothers and sister were ready for their summer classes, I gladly shut the door as the last feet stepped out.

Now it’s Ola’s world, then I needed to plan my move well.  Yes! Izu Edet came to mind, he was a friend in school who always boasted about his wealthy father. He was one of those who claimed to have a street in London, lived in a Nigerian-Buckingham palace & could feed an entire community. Despite his father’s acclaimed riches, Izu would go on to bring the most admired game, Game Boy, to school for rentals. He charged N5 per 30minutes, and he gained the respect he wanted.  So I decided to leave for Izu’s house (which I have never been to before) but not until I had written my runaway letter:

 “Dad and Mum, I’m sorry that I failed my promotional exams and I was advised to repeat, which I will never do. I have decided to run away and you might be lucky to meet me alive”….. Bye  – Olamide

I wrote this with tears in my eyes, I carefully pasted it with some rolls of eba on the entrance to the children’s room. I ran again to the kitchen to take some raw plantain and butter for survival and I fled. I looked back at my house after a few distance and l wandered the drama that would be staged later. I imagined how mum tearing apart when she receives the news, the furiousness and shock on dad’s face, and how the neighbors’ reaction to the news. I was bold enough to take my mind off the implications and hit the road, but then I meet the shocker of my life….. Watch out

Its  Bellz

I RAN

Yea! Yea!  It’s been a while really, but trust me, I have been busy and each time the inspiration comes, the environment is usually not conducive enough to write.  It was children’s day, and since we were once kids, I've decided to share some remarkable memories of my childhood. This isn’t fiction; it’s real just like true-life stories…. Enjoy

Immediately I spotted Mrs. Okonkwo, my class teacher, walking in with some files, I knew my fate was around the corner. We need not be told to take a pew and comport ourselves because we apparently knew something was about to happen, not even her cane was enough to make us put our bums together.

She carefully dropped the heavy files which were followed by a moment of decorum in class. Mrs. Okonkwo warned us to listen carefully as she began the tradition of calling our names alphabetically from the attendance list and as soon as a name is mentioned, she will direct the student to check his/her name among the files.

It took almost forever for my name to be uttered, apparently there were quiet a number of students whose surnames began with the letter “A”, this aggravated my fears. I suddenly fell into a deep thought of what might happen If it was positive, I imagined how my mum would buy me the new trekkers in vogue, how I was going to flaunt the shoe on the first day of resumption to everyone especially Bolatito, who has never given me the slightest attention because of Seyi, the rich kid that has everything working for him. I snapped out of my reverie and thought about the negative; the shame of failing in class, the sore beatings from pop, the disappointment on mum’s face and all.

Bello Olamide!!! The name echoed and I got a harsh tap from Giwa, he was a violent and naughty boy, I never liked him, he formed a clique I detested and we fought each time he tried to bully me.                 Yes Ma!  I shouted, my heart pounded uncontrollably, I reached for the files and sieved through them but I couldn’t find my name. I was taking longer than every other pupil to check, Mrs. Okonkwo’s eyeballs stared at me like that of an owl, “I smell trouble,” I muttered under my breath.  She insisted I went through it again and I mustn’t dare her to check herself otherwise I would be a guinea pig for newly acquired whip. Mrs Okonkwo was a fat and very mean woman, she could be described as a despicable Nanny McPhil. I once believed she was a witch because of how she treated students without concern or sympathy.   I vouched to hit her with the car my father promised to buy for me after university but the car never came.

I checked more carefully and I found my fate within seconds, I opened it and my eyes went straight to the bottom of the page where the final comment was written, “Olamide is a very quiet boy and well behaved but advised to REPEAT SS 1.”

Even at that tender or rather immature age, I wondered why such good comment should be accompanied by a “repeat”.  I disliked Mrs. Okonkwo more… I felt like crying but I said “NO, why should I”, I knew it wasn’t over , well  I  predicted it considering my flippancy that term. I closed my judgment book, gave an impression that “all iz well”, and left the class. 

Home was a no-go area, though my folks were expecting me since the school was closing for the term and the hostel would automatically be under lock and keys.  I consulted my thinking cap and decided to visit a close friend & class/dorm mate who lived some meters away from my house.  I could tag Okon my bestie as he was a big influence on me, we spent most of the time together shooting pool and missing classes a lot of times.   My friend was also a fighter and very few people could contend with him, he was a bully but a very nice one. 

I wasn’t surprised to see Okon playing his habitual football in his compound, I knew he had failed but he never saw it as a big deal, but for me, it was beyond a deal, it was a REAL DEAL.  He bragged that he wasn’t going to repeat, he boasted he will rather change school instead… After playing football with some few friends and Okon, it was getting dark and my folks were definitely waiting to have me after some months in school, so, I begged Okon to help me keep my bad result and I went home.  On getting home, everyone had been awaiting my arrival; my mum carried me and sang some special lullabies even though it wasn’t bedtime as she did when I was a baby. She never stopped praising me in my pet name, ‘Omo-Ola’ (Child of wealth).  My mum would stop at nothing to make me happy which often got my siblings jealous. 

 

The welcome party was cut short by my dad. Pop called and asked for my position not even if I passed, it was funny no one ever imagined I could fail (I was like the efiko of the house), I lied the results haven’t been issued and would probably be ready on resumption. Apparently, my father was not comfortable with my story and insisted to visit my school (over sabi dey always worri am), I convinced him and he budged.

Shortly after a week, he said he intended getting a GCE form for me that week (he so believed in me), and he would like to sound my teacher out on this, he decided we would both go to the school to see her. Alas! At that moment I knew the bubble would be burst soon.  Then I dropped a specially composed runaway letter…

To be continued…

Its-Bellz

IT WAS SO FREE!

My glass fell as I felt a warm hand on my chest from behind, it swiftly aroused goose pimples all over me, looking up, all I could see was an epitome of what you can describe as BEAUTY.  Her cleavage was screaming for dare attention, the teats were conspicuously looking for an escape route beneath her see-through gown, perfectly built with an enchanting figure was this lady in this new club a friend invited me to...

When the snares on me were getting out of hand and my heart beating uncontrollably, I welcomed her for a seat and then she started the conversation, apparently I wasn’t used to such experience, she asked: "you care for a night?” (I guessed she was referring to a Night Train, which unfortunately I don't drink). I carefully said “NOPE”, I don't do Night Train... She reiterated, "you will like it, it’s cool and the experience will be remarkable." (I wondered, what is the ish in ogogoro 'hisssssss')

I suppose there was no one to give me a clue of what I was in for just because I sat alone (and obviously waiting for my guy). Before I could digest her slangs & jargons, I had felt a touch around my thigh, oh dear…the rest I could remember was she being in my arms and then in the car she claimed to own.

Before you could say Jack Robinson, the romance was getting hot and on the verge of climax, I was interrupted by two hefty men, which I bet were the cocotte’s allies, they dragged me out with some heavy punches, claiming she’s their girlfriend and I was trespassing.

After a long struggle with the crooks, the "Street in boy" in me as usual played a great role, I eventually fought my way through and took to my heels but that was after they parted with my 14 carat gold chain & my Hublot classic chronograph wristwatch.

Was I charmed? How did I enter that car? Was I carried? When did I take alcohol, all I had was a Malt (as usual).

Here is the lesson folks, it was so free that I got engrossed and lost guard. Whatever is FREE underneath is danger. When it’s so FREE you’ve got to FLEE!

Another lesson nature has thought me this weekend!