Showing posts with label Nigerian blogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nigerian blogs. Show all posts

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Through The Looking Bowl


I decided that rather than gush, fuss and ‘meow’ over how my silly brain turns to mush at the sight of a youngish man in gray hair, I’d talk about the solar eclipse (or lack of it).

I refuse to ponder over what in particular makes these men strike me as drop dead gorgeous and incredibly sexy.
I could see a lowly midget with gray hair and boom!
He’d turn into a 6’4 inch man with a mickey blue gaze and great potentials.
Sha, thank G*d for 2nd, 3rd and 4th impressions.
The annoying thing about this fetish is that once the distraction of the gray hair has been eliminated, these mortals loose their awesomeness and make me go “hiss! Total waste of drool.”
I have been known to leave the company I am with, walk up to a complete stranger and go “hi my name is…” because I noticed a sprinkle of sugar on his head.

Oh my!!

That could be it, sugar!!

Gray hair is somewhat white, sugar is somewhat white and I have a sweet tooth so…

Oh my.

Now I have figured out the connection. I’m counting on the good news reaching my brain and disabling the hormone/sensor/nerve or whatever blah that sparks and jiggles on sight of it.

I received a broadcast message that the eclipse will ‘arrive’ by 13:03 in Port Harcourt be at the highest point by 14:43 and eventually depart around 16:00hrs.
Somewhere along the wait, I dozed off.
When I woke up, outside from my window was gray and windy like that point in a romantic flick when the guy runs after the girl and goes “I choose you Violetta! You are my sun, my moon my heartbeat. I want to be with you, I love you!
Ok maybe not so dramatic but you get the picture.
Remembering what I was waiting for I scrambled off the bed, ran down the stairs and bolted out the door only to run back in almost immediately because of the heavy downpour that started abruptly.
Determined to see the ‘thing’ (thanks to bbm updates and whatsapp broadcast messages) but not wanting to get wet, I charged into my fathers room and hopped from one foot to the other pleading until he agreed to give me his precious umbrella with its seal unbroken.

Armed with an oversized umbrella, sunglasses and rubber shoes, I went outside threw my neck backwards and began to search for the sun...

I am much too distracted to go further.
It has been serious ages past since I licked a cube sugar but as I write, I can see this lump of sugar complete with droopy eyes, nose and a lopsided smile in my minds eye singing “lick me-lick me, lick meee” in a shrill tra-la-la scratchy voice.

Erm…

Bye?

Monday, September 23, 2013

Cheers to the ‘embers!



For a long time in my house and since I can remember, Christmas and New year (first week of January) holidays are spent in the village.
The only year we the Fanta-chapman drinking children of my folks rebelled against this unwritten commandment and decided to stay in the city, my mother dearest was involved in a freak accident.
She broke her hand.
Mother dear had to go around with her arm in a sling for close to two months.
Considering both hands are usually needed to whip, chop, roll, grate, stir and cut all the mouthwatering delicacies that accompany the season, you can imagine how devastated we the now compliant children were.

During one of such Christmases, being the ever-obliging niece that I am, without being asked, I offered to escort my uncle around the village as he ran his errands.
The trip was uneventful.
My uncle finished his errands in record time and soon, we were headed home.
Halfway through our homeward journey, he started humming a tune and urged me to sing along.
As I struggled to follow his lead (the song was in my native dialect which by some wicked trick of fate, I have failed to grasp) he began to tell a story.
He told three stories.
By the time he was through with the 3rd story, I had covered the exposed parts of my body, rolled up the glass of the car and checked to make sure my door was locked for the 50th time.

To my uncle, I was this enthralled little girl enjoying his scary stories while in reality, I was a scared teen on the verge of twenties very close to pissing my panties afraid to tell him to stop because the first story he told was about a child who did not listen to elders and do as she was told – by gorilla’s in the forest.
He was driving on a road bordered by thick forests with things some might claim to be birds randomly flying by.

Christmas is coming!

But before Christmas comes, we would witness September’s passing, celebrate Nigeria’s Independence Day and fall prey to the Christmas sales that will go on for most of November.

This year, Independence Day falls on Tuesday October 1st.

Independence Day is an annual celebration commemorating the anniversary of a nation's assumption of independent statehood.

This year, God willing, this great nation Nigeria will be 53 years old.

Hopefully, by the D-day, I’d have come up with something very enthusiastic to say about Nigeria’s independence from oppression, exploitation and predation.

Christmas is coming!!

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

What's Myne (Part 2)



Baba Igho was an unhappy man. His crops were failing and his livestock dying.
With the land refusing to yield sustenance, one by one his tenants moved away.
Left with no source of income, His riches dwindled and in time he fell very ill. Spending what was left of his money on nurses and medicine, he could scant afford to live.
Seeing the state of his affairs, his only remaining and faithful servant Akpos (a young man he had rescued from a life of debauchery and decay) packed up what was left of his belongings (they fit into a medium sized Ghana-must-go bag) and said to him. “Sir, you have suffered enough. If you recall, you once told me of your beautiful daughters. Kiki owns a quarter of your land, you wed her off to a politician who held promise. You must not stay here and die like a brigand. Come, let us go to Kiki. She is your daughter who loves you to the moon and back, she will care for you.” Without hesitation, they setout and made their way to the other side of the land.
They travelled for a few days and finally got to the boarders of the estate.
Getting closer, they were shocked at the sight before them.
The place was in ruins; there was poverty and sickness in the land.
When they arrived at Kiki’s abode, she was in tears bargaining with tax collectors.
Her children were holding unto themselves in the background emaciated and crying from hunger.
She was aware of their arrival but paid them no heed. After she had begged for a little more to no avail, she turned to her father and pointed at him accusingly. “This is all your fault father. You never taught me to share or care for others. Look! My land lies in ruins. After I sold all my tenant’s crops and took control of their meager means of livelihood to feed my family, my neighbors abandoned me. Now, having no one to take care of my bills, I am in debt.” Looking at the children with pity, Akpos asked. “Where is their father, your husband?” Kiki laughed hysterically. “Husband? Which husband? I got married to a shadow! No wait, a honey tongued serpent!! That man made so many promises, promises he never intended to keep. He led the people on and gave them hope. Feeding them with lies, lies and more lies. When the people got tired of his deceit and empty promises, they smothered the light of hope and took matters into their hands. After he had gotten fat on the wealth of the land, the land turned on him, tore him to shreds and ate him.” she sighed and added under her breathe. “ I could not find even his bones to bury and it is your entire fault father.” Waving her fingers dismissively, she turned to Akpos. “Get this wretched man out of my sight. I barely have enough to feed my children and myself and you want me to care for him? Can you not see I have guest?” The tax collectors got up in shock and retorted. “This man is your father! In a way, he is also our father for he gave us the means to start our trade. As you have no pity for an old man in his time of need, what you have, we shall take from you. We shall give it to your needy tenants and then cast you out from your home.”
Akpos picked their bags, reached for Baba Igho and led him away. “Come” he said. “We shall go to Zizi.”

Baba Igho and Akpos embarked on another long journey to Zizi’s estate.
On nearing the land, they were awed by the beauty before them.
There was a huge wall which ran around the boundaries of estate and came to stop at intimidating gates in front. When approached, they were halted by trollish looking guards. “Who are you?” they demanded. “This is Zizi’s father!” Akpos cautioned. Eyeing them with uncertainty, the guards deliberated quietly for a while before turning to them. “Wait here.” They ordered. “ We shall fetch the mistress of the estate and bring her to you.” Baba Igho and Akpos stood at the gates and waited for the guards to return.
Towards evening, decked in dazzling attire and doused in sweet smelling perfume, Zizi came to them. She stood at the other side of the gate and spoke. “Oh my father, can you see how beautiful I am? I wish you could come over here and admire my beautiful land but my husband loves me for my beauty and hates anything that is ugly.” A look of yearning and sadness crossed her face, she added softly. “He spends so much time away and comes home only when he is able.” She dispelled the emotion with a shake of her head, brightened up and continued. “ He says he makes me beautiful and I am grateful for that. He is all I have you see and I work very hard to keep him. I cannot dare to let him return and behold your unsightly forms. Please leave the premises now. You can come back when you are presentable.” She turned her back to them and hurried out of sight.

Baba Igho slumped to the floor and lamented. “Leave me now to die like a brigand Akpos, I can take it no longer. My daughters break my heart.” Akpos pulled him up and shouldered him to the side of the road. “Come now, all hope is not lost yet. Your last daughter Mimi will never turn you away. We shall pass the night in that shade down the road and at dawn, we will go to Mimi.” Baba Igho did as Akpos suggested and soon he was fast asleep.
They were awoken at dawn by screams in a distance.
It was coming from Zizi’s estate.
It was Zizi.
A fire broke out about midnight and burned half the land to the ground. In Zizi’s bid to escape the inferno, she slipped on a tube of skin moisturizing jelly and fell to the ground scarring her now delicate beautiful skin. Her husband returned shortly afterwards, He took one look at her minor injuries and decided he could not live with such ugliness.
Faced with the reality of loosing her beauty and husband in the same day, she ran mad with grief.

Akpos packed their belongs and roused Baba Igho. “Come.” He coaxed. “ It is time to leave.”
The road to Mimi’s estate was littered with debris and decay.
They sidestepped refuse and carefully made their way to her abode.
A man who bore a striking resemblance to Mimi’s husband opened the door.
“Where is Mimi?” Akpos asked. The man laughed and threw the door wide open. “Come on in!” They entered the place and saw Mimi.
She was huddled in a corner of the living room.
Her hands and feet were bound and her eyes tied shut.
“Who are you?” Akpos demanded. The man laughed menacingly, sat down on a thread bear sofa and signaled to a scantily dressed female (there were a handful of them drifting about the house). She disappeared momentarily and returned with a tray bearing glasses of liquor, pills and suspicious looking powders. She dropped the tray beside him, disappeared for a while again and came back with another tray.
Squatting in front of Mimi, she cut up pieces of bread, coated it with some of the powdery substance and forced her to eat it. Some of the females came forward and picked a glass or tablet from the tray while the rest continued their confused roaming about the house. “Join me!” the man offered, they shook their heads declining. The man shrugged, helped himself to a glass and spoke between sips. “I am what is left of that woman’s husband. She terrorized me, pushed me and eventually broke me. Even after the music left my soul, she wouldn’t let me be. She turned me into a lapdog to do her every bidding. When my fans saw what I had become, they came to my rescue. They gave me a way out and took care of her for me. Now all she does is seat in that corner and cry, she tells me the drinks and drugs will be the ruin of me and begs to be set free but I will not be enslaved again.”
Akpos ran to her side and made to release her but people who seemed to materialize from thin air held him back. The man held a gun to the back of his head and whispered. “Touch her and you die. She is mine and mine alone. You are not welcome here, leave now and never return.”
Akpos went to Baba Igho’s side, held his hand and led him out of Mimi’s estate.
“Where are we going?” Baba Igho asked. “Back to your miserable life.” Akpos replied. “Your daughters have turned away from you in your old age and you have no where else to go. You shall return to the ruins you call home and die there like a brigand.” Baba Igho stopped walking. “That is not true,” he said hesitantly. “ I have not three but four daughters.” Akpos turned to him a flicker of hope crossing his face. “You do? In my years of serving you, you never mentioned a fourth child. Where is she?” Baba Igho bowed his head in shame. “I do not know. I stripped her of her inheritance and cast her out when she was a young child.” He reached for a broken branch lying on the road, picked it up and used it as a staff. “ Come Akpos, let us return to my miserable life, I deserve to die like a brigand.” He dropped the staff...




.... to be continued

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Bugs to taste


You can not begin to imagine the disappointment I felt after having successfully devised a way of keeping "bole" hot for longer, I set the table before me armed with a chilled sachet of pure water and my trusty blackberry phone (to snap my food before eating it; this seems to have taken the place of prayers before meals) only to pop open a "brand new" bottle of ketchup and jump back in surprise as winged insects scuttled out.

The seriously "9jan" part of me wanted to use a spoon to remove the insects and continue eating but the health wary me who couldn't figure out how live insects got into a sealed bottle of ketchup decided to close the bottle back, insects and all and eat my bole "without" t'was a sad evening for me me and my bole I tell you.

I promised to wow all and sundry with my next post but due to cases that involve casting out demons, shining my eye's and stalking men, me and my pc have been having an estranged relationship.

All this will change ( hopefully -gulp)

The idea of Salt, Lime and Stranger things is to (aside from that which the name implies) try out different flavors, mix to match, say whats on my mind and on the minds of those who dare to think it.

I am 1st an African, among other things so do not expect me to shun where I am from.
On occasion, I could decide to be a boy or a girl depending on my mood, nothing do me, na me get my mouth.





- Oseyi