Head. On a silver platter

I doubt I can burst into spontaneous tears like the beautiful Oge Okoye (I was lucky to be in same venue with her and a group of them “Nollynians” when a colleague asked her to “cry for the camera”. Just like that, the dams of her tear ducts went “pop!” and out poured the torrent. I was awestruck and was like; how did she do that?!)
I am very confident however that, when it comes to displaying vengeful and earth scorching anger, I am a pro.
All that is needed to trigger this emotion is to picture any or all of the present lower denominations of the Nigerian currency.
Talking of 5, 10, 20 and 50 naira notes!
I mean whose bright idea was it to replace the trusty paper money with “waterproof” and nylon?

Did the clerics at the “Aso court” foresee a flood?

It is bad enough that I wasted precious time in school during my formative years learning about the characteristics of the Nigerian currency (...legal tender, store of value, etc) which does not apply to the Naira now I have to deal with money melting in my pocket, getting broken, becoming suddenly shy and transparent.
I can just picture the teenage airheaded girlfriend of the person in charge of “currency design” rubbing his head and saying “honey, if you really love me, for my 18th birthday, I would like money that can be used to make boyfriend slippers” and him belting out “Yes my darling! Yes my lady!! Yes my love!!” like a randy he-goat.
See me happy today thinking I had managed to avoid the embarrassment and insults that ensue when you give a “red-eyed” bus conductor a thousand Naira note for a 30 Naira trip only to be pulled out from my state of bliss by my brand new 20 Naira note which became a living thing before my eyes, underwent mitosis and lost its twin to the wind.
My poor keyboard is taking a beating for my annoyance.

Keyboard I am sorry.

So, days back, a lady friend of mine wrote in bewilderment “do these people think youth corps members are goats?” when I asked her why she was lamenting, she spoke of how they usually took away the good chairs and left the broken and useless one’s for the corps members.
They could either seat on said chairs at the risk of loosing/harming body parts or…
I sent my condolences and proceeded to speak about the weather.
Today I went to the southwest secretariat and saw a herd of corps members.
They were clustered together, trying to force themselves through a tiny doorway while begging for attention.
Some were lying on top of the other, sweating, looking tormented and forlorn. While others turned savage, forgot why they were there in the first place and took to exchanging words and occasional blows.
The image of a Fulani herdsman gently guiding his cattle to greener pastures came to mind but unlike these people, the cattle’s are usually clam, well spaced and taken care of.
For someone like me that experiences claustrophobia on occasion, playing hooky became my light at the end of the tunnel herd.
Thinking back, that lady was wrong in asking if they thought the Nigerian Corps Members were goats I believe the idea is somewhere between intelligent monkey’s and cows.

In other news:
Nawti by Olu Maintain still gets me swaying my pseudo hips to his flute beckons. While the burst of color in the Fotojenik (remix) and Sisi Eko (Remix) videos by Wizboy ft Ikechukwu and Dare ft. Flavour makes me happy, I still have giggling fits when the image of Kate Henshaw dancing “Etighi” in the video of African Skank by JJC comes to mind.
I’ve seen the videos over and over and still it is not enough, something in the lyrics, symphony and fluid movement makes me proud these artists are who they are as well as Nigerians.

And then prince charming threw Oseyi over his shoulder, straddled his kpekpeye and rode off into the sunset.
*PS: they lived happily ever after (minus the fowl)