Let us begin by committing ourselves to the truth—to see it as it is, and tell it like it is—to find the truth, to speak the truth, and to live the truth
Richard Nixon U.S. president (1913 - 1994)
Seriously, like the fact that my jeans no longer fit and I have to resort to jumping up and down continuously while my two cousins from the obodo giggle on in the dimly-lit corridor. Or should I count the number of times I placed Daniel (my younger cousin form the famous obodo) on my tummy so I could zip up and button my shorts? And I cannot forget the black on black that I have to wear when I am going somewhere with skinny chicks. Oh! Of course there is the way I pack my hair that makes my face look longer and takes focus away from the so-called cute chubby cheeks!
Then, there is the fact that he doesn’t call you as much as you call him, and you even have to endure his famous “I’m busy response” a couple of times before you get to have a little conversation. But in your naïve mind, he is simply hustling money to take you out for that weekend he promised you twenty million years ago!
There is also the fact that your school fees are really #kobo but you say it is #naira. Or the fact that there is no course called #blablabla, but you collect money for its registration, its handout, and its examination. Let’s not forget that you are really not carrying over that #somethingsomething course, but you collect money for summer.
But those are even the big lies. It’s just the natural human instinct, to do away with the truth!
No one wants the truth if it is inconvenient, even me! So what do we do o my peoples?
So often, that we don’t even know, we are held in captivity by the truth we have refused to listen to, admit, or say—and it kills us inside, gradually, till after a while we are no longer even conscious of the fact that we are dead. Some people died so long ago that they have skipped right through this article.
We have lied so much that we don’t even know what a lie is anyone. Let me help you:
• When you are taking a dump and a boy calls you and asks what you are doing, and you say “just chilling”, na lie.
• When you see your phone ringing and you mute it, and then send a message saying “sorry I missed your call”, na lie.
• When you tell the interviewer that you have experience in the field, and you are fresh outta college, na lie.
• When your mom/dad/anyone calls you, and you shout I’m in the toilet, when you are lying down on your bed, facebooking, na lie.
• When your mum asks you if you need an advance on your allowance and your wallet is still heavy, na lie.
Seriously, I recently got nabbed on a simple “small” lie that I could have avoided. Why can’t we all just tell the truth? That is my late-in-the-year resolution o peoples, starting from now, so here is some of the truth that I love to hate…..feel free to add yours, or write it on your own article:
• I like boys! Yes, I can’t help it because I’m an emotionally alive young lady. I like to scope them, insult them, love them, and be loved by them, be chyked by them, talk to them, and ignore them.
• I am on the plus side! Yes, but in a good way though. I am not slim, chubby, or even fat; I just fill out in the right places.
• Sometimes I don’t wanna be with my friends. Sorry, but totally true. I need my alone time sometimes.
• I have terrible mood swings, and it’s not just PMS, it’s sometimes you. True story!
• I might bring you down sometimes just to make myself feel good. I am only human.
• I actually love my brother a lot and would be terrible hurt if something were to happen to him.
• I am conceited (yes! I know you have told me over and over, well this is me admitting it), and I want things to be about me, but you really cannot blame me, after all, it is my life.
There is so much more, but this piece would never end, and frankly, I have a poem to write*cheeky smile*
To end this, in the words of Virginia Woolf, British novelist and critic (1882 - 1941) if you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
Ciao!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
EXCLUSIVE ARTICLE!! Story of my 5naira boy’s rebellion…
Once upon a time in a far far away land called reality lived two young children/teenagers/adolescents/young adults who were deceived by cupid into thinking they were madly in love with each other—and they were.
From break-up’s to make up’s, from jealousy to insecurity, but they survived.
However, this is not a story about the couple who wouldn’t give up on each other, no; it is a story about the 5 naira boy who decided to revolt. For the purpose of privacy, and anonymity, the subject in this context shall ONLY be referred to as the 5 naira boy (are YOU satisfied?).
What is a 5 naira boy, you ask? I’ll tell you the history/genesis of the soon-to-be-world-wide accepted title, before embarking of the journey.
As we all know, MTN-to-MTN on Xtracool (now known as funlink) is 5 naira, only.
My 5 naira boy isn’t only my 5 naira boy, he is also my “please call me back” twenty times a day boy. Always sends that please call me back ish, so annoying, and nasty habit. It even got to a point where his messages remained unopened because the content was already known by me (e no pass *133*number#), after all, na free text.
He is also my “20-second-rule” boy. It’s like some kind of disease that even when he calls he briefs it so much that soon after I forget what the point was.
To be fair though, on a good day, my 5 naira boy could chat with me for a bit, say maybe 10 messages, or he could be as gallant as to grace us with a phone call of 3-to-5 minutes. On a good day.
Na so I vex o. money na small thing abi? Decided to show myself!
Hence begins the battle of the 5 naira boy and, well, me.
Flashed him a couple of days ago for some 20-sum minutes.
My 5 naira boy vexed back.
In his words, “You want to test me abi?”
LIKE DUH!
Please O! 5 naira boy, awake from your slumber—and he did.
Next thing I know, my 5 naira boy calls for 19minutes and says, with of the pride he can muster, “By the way, this is me flashing you back.”
Chai! Omo na die o.
Next thing I know, its 26 minutes, and longer, and longer, till I concede victory to my former 5 naira boy.
I cannot compete with this; I refuse to compete with this.
My 5 naira boy has been gingered to swagger the ginger.
Let’s go noni—except I’m not going anywhere but sitting patiently here to receive his long long phone calls.
I have been schooled in the art of MTN.
I have learnt.
Finally—he has learnt.
My 5 naira boy, the student, has become the master.
Sidenote:
*To girls, this is how you ginger your 5 naira boy!
**To my 5 naira boy, I alone know the truth, but I still love you (this makes the world know you too ^_^)
From break-up’s to make up’s, from jealousy to insecurity, but they survived.
However, this is not a story about the couple who wouldn’t give up on each other, no; it is a story about the 5 naira boy who decided to revolt. For the purpose of privacy, and anonymity, the subject in this context shall ONLY be referred to as the 5 naira boy (are YOU satisfied?).
What is a 5 naira boy, you ask? I’ll tell you the history/genesis of the soon-to-be-world-wide accepted title, before embarking of the journey.
As we all know, MTN-to-MTN on Xtracool (now known as funlink) is 5 naira, only.
My 5 naira boy isn’t only my 5 naira boy, he is also my “please call me back” twenty times a day boy. Always sends that please call me back ish, so annoying, and nasty habit. It even got to a point where his messages remained unopened because the content was already known by me (e no pass *133*number#), after all, na free text.
He is also my “20-second-rule” boy. It’s like some kind of disease that even when he calls he briefs it so much that soon after I forget what the point was.
To be fair though, on a good day, my 5 naira boy could chat with me for a bit, say maybe 10 messages, or he could be as gallant as to grace us with a phone call of 3-to-5 minutes. On a good day.
Na so I vex o. money na small thing abi? Decided to show myself!
Hence begins the battle of the 5 naira boy and, well, me.
Flashed him a couple of days ago for some 20-sum minutes.
My 5 naira boy vexed back.
In his words, “You want to test me abi?”
LIKE DUH!
Please O! 5 naira boy, awake from your slumber—and he did.
Next thing I know, my 5 naira boy calls for 19minutes and says, with of the pride he can muster, “By the way, this is me flashing you back.”
Chai! Omo na die o.
Next thing I know, its 26 minutes, and longer, and longer, till I concede victory to my former 5 naira boy.
I cannot compete with this; I refuse to compete with this.
My 5 naira boy has been gingered to swagger the ginger.
Let’s go noni—except I’m not going anywhere but sitting patiently here to receive his long long phone calls.
I have been schooled in the art of MTN.
I have learnt.
Finally—he has learnt.
My 5 naira boy, the student, has become the master.
Sidenote:
*To girls, this is how you ginger your 5 naira boy!
**To my 5 naira boy, I alone know the truth, but I still love you (this makes the world know you too ^_^)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Dear Reader!
Dear Reader,
Can Nigeria be any more sadistic than it already is?
I really doubt it; with all this carnage that is fast booming into a rampage (really didn’t mean to rhyme).
Its August 2010, couple of days before September. Place of location is Akure town, the capital of Ondo State.
Problem?
Well the problem is that jejely on my own o, I was driving to work, so I get to a round-a-bout, and what do I see but Ębǫ.
What is Ębǫ?
Now, for those who have no idea what Ębǫ is, and for those who aren’t Yoruba movie fanatics, (not saying I am one o, truth is I make it my personal business to crucify most Nollywood movies, but that is another article entirely) Ębǫ is a Yoruba word used to define a sacrifice by people to gods (notice the small g?).
Anyway, most times the sacrifice consists of a black ceramic bowl with food like yam or eba, mixed with palm oil—or something of that sort. I don’t really know because I have never gotten too close to the bowl (yes, me sef fear am).
The deal is, the sacrifice is made to appease these gods, because, I’m guessing, some ignorant herbalist somewhere has said, “E lo se Étutu”.
Bullshit.
And I say that with all respect to human rights of religion, bla bla bla. This one though is blind stupidity and ignorance.
Do these gods come down to eat of this so-called delicacy? No. the sacrifice just gets eaten by some totally random mad man who has been starving for days.
These sacrifices that are placed in front of schools, market areas, hospitals, homes, shops, are fast gaining popularity among Yoruba people.
I used to think this was just some kind of thing that you’d see in a movie but never witness in reality, but here I am, a 19-year-old simple student, being made to eat my words. I feel like an atheist who is coming face to face with God.
Are people really still this way?
I can’t even get the sight out of my head.
It is sad, that Nigerians still believe in these doctrines?
When are we going to let go of barbaric acts?
And just so you know, this isn’t the first one I am seeing, so it is not like I am just making noise.
Plus this is just the tip of the iceberg that would eventually sink the ship called Nigeria.
I mean, as if we don’t have enough on our plate with our leaders being corrupt, strikes, and lack of proper education, we now also have to worry about blood sacrifices, rituals, and kidnappings by stupid ignorant people looking for a quick buck or looking to get even with someone.
I am tired.
I am tired of being inside my house when some Deji is being crowned and the whole town is on lockdown because they are looking for heads to sacrifice.
I am tired of rushing into my house at 6 o’clock in the evening because some people are hungry to kidnap.
I am tired.
I am concerned.
I am concerned for my cute baby brother who is only 3 months old and would have to grow up in this sadistic country.
I am concerned for my unborn children who would/might grow up in this country that lacks discipline.
I am concerned.
And I just want it all to end, because enough really is enough.
I might be just one voice out of 150million, but I have given you something to think about, so please think.
For us, for our future.
Signed,
A concerned citizen!
Can Nigeria be any more sadistic than it already is?
I really doubt it; with all this carnage that is fast booming into a rampage (really didn’t mean to rhyme).
Its August 2010, couple of days before September. Place of location is Akure town, the capital of Ondo State.
Problem?
Well the problem is that jejely on my own o, I was driving to work, so I get to a round-a-bout, and what do I see but Ębǫ.
What is Ębǫ?
Now, for those who have no idea what Ębǫ is, and for those who aren’t Yoruba movie fanatics, (not saying I am one o, truth is I make it my personal business to crucify most Nollywood movies, but that is another article entirely) Ębǫ is a Yoruba word used to define a sacrifice by people to gods (notice the small g?).
Anyway, most times the sacrifice consists of a black ceramic bowl with food like yam or eba, mixed with palm oil—or something of that sort. I don’t really know because I have never gotten too close to the bowl (yes, me sef fear am).
The deal is, the sacrifice is made to appease these gods, because, I’m guessing, some ignorant herbalist somewhere has said, “E lo se Étutu”.
Bullshit.
And I say that with all respect to human rights of religion, bla bla bla. This one though is blind stupidity and ignorance.
Do these gods come down to eat of this so-called delicacy? No. the sacrifice just gets eaten by some totally random mad man who has been starving for days.
These sacrifices that are placed in front of schools, market areas, hospitals, homes, shops, are fast gaining popularity among Yoruba people.
I used to think this was just some kind of thing that you’d see in a movie but never witness in reality, but here I am, a 19-year-old simple student, being made to eat my words. I feel like an atheist who is coming face to face with God.
Are people really still this way?
I can’t even get the sight out of my head.
It is sad, that Nigerians still believe in these doctrines?
When are we going to let go of barbaric acts?
And just so you know, this isn’t the first one I am seeing, so it is not like I am just making noise.
Plus this is just the tip of the iceberg that would eventually sink the ship called Nigeria.
I mean, as if we don’t have enough on our plate with our leaders being corrupt, strikes, and lack of proper education, we now also have to worry about blood sacrifices, rituals, and kidnappings by stupid ignorant people looking for a quick buck or looking to get even with someone.
I am tired.
I am tired of being inside my house when some Deji is being crowned and the whole town is on lockdown because they are looking for heads to sacrifice.
I am tired of rushing into my house at 6 o’clock in the evening because some people are hungry to kidnap.
I am tired.
I am concerned.
I am concerned for my cute baby brother who is only 3 months old and would have to grow up in this sadistic country.
I am concerned for my unborn children who would/might grow up in this country that lacks discipline.
I am concerned.
And I just want it all to end, because enough really is enough.
I might be just one voice out of 150million, but I have given you something to think about, so please think.
For us, for our future.
Signed,
A concerned citizen!
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