Tuesday 13 September 2016

CHANGE

"Hold your change oh, if you no hold change I take God name beg you no enter oh" he shouted with his hoax voice more terrible than a croaking frog as his passengers entered the bus.
He has a rugged look, one that could easily point out that he is a motor park tout, there is a scar visibly marked on his neck probably from a bottle stab in a fight, his eyes were blood shot red, I doubt if they have ever been white.

I entered quietly and sat next to this fat woman with three children which she've decided to carry on her laps as well as inconvenience other passengers which happened to be me sitting next to her and immediately she gave me a warm smile and turned me into a baby sitter. Good thing I was wearing black so whatever stain may come from the child won't affect me. Then I thought about how people could trust a stranger with their child but won't with any other valuables they have on them.

On the course of the journey I found out that the child's name is Ozioma and he was rather weighty for his age, it was more like I was carrying a fat adult male than a five years old boy, I was just thinking if the boy feeds on stone that is making him that heavy.
Then the scary looking conductor brought me back to reality and asked for my bus fare there and then I realised I was having a thousand naira note on me.

Just to avoid being beaten up by this conductor who has already lost some teeth I presume was from a previous battle and is willing to loose more if anyone dares him. I decided to pay for my new madam and her stone of child who I gave space to sit on his own and one fine yellow sisi who I almost mistook as an albino, I wouldn't say she bleached to get to that condition she found herself.
Then I realised the power of change and how much power an ordinary bus conductor could possibly have if you disobeys his command.

Sugar Sugar

'Sugar sugar' that was a name I grew up to know everyone called me. I was just ten but my curiosity has taken a better part of me why I was called that in place of my real name moses.

Like every child being mischievous was just part of growing up but when you get naughty and do what grown ups do then it's way off.
I grew up from a rather terrible environment. Our house was located behind some brothels and seeing naked women from a very young age affected the way I think, it's normal for children to do what they see adults do around them and my case wasn't a different.

I decided to ask around to know what warranted that name sugar sugar, so they asked if I don't remember and I asked "remembered what", then came the story about my first sexual experience.
I was just 5 years old and like what I have been seeing those prostitutes (popularly called ashewo) do with their customers I decided to try it on this girl just same age too. On the heat of our sexcapade we were caught and punished for our sinful act at such a young age and then they asked me how it felt like and I was just being honest and said 'SUGAR SUGAR' and that was it, it became a nickname that stuck with me for a greater part of my life.

All grown now and remembering the event and it all sounded funny to me.

Tuesday 6 September 2016

Secondary Crush

I saw her today for the first time after a very long while, she was wearing a makeup louder than two yoruba women gisting, her lips red like those fresh tomatoes I pass by at the market, immediately I saw her my mind raced back to the girl I had a crush on while I was still in secondary school.

I just got into the senior secondary and it was an all boys school the famous Stella Maris College (nicknamed as suffer man college because of the acronym) which we did not have the luxury of having a female companion in class except maybe she is a teacher and the only time we have such opportunities is after school which we share the road with the famous Harbour Road Girls College, yes that was her school.
I first saw her one faithful afternoon after we have closed from school and she was standing just across the road with a few friends, our eyes locked on each other and she smiled at me but I couldn't hold her gaze so I shyly took my eyes away but I went home that day with her picture all up in my thought. She was just beautiful with a neat haircut that matched her face and her white uniform was neatly ironed along with her purple skirt, her sandals were polished as it adorns her feet with a pair of white socks, that was still shining like she bought them that afternoon and decided to try it on.
Just that few minutes i stood there I was able to picture her and how neat and smart she appeared, "maybe it's because it's monday" I said to myself, but I went home that evening hoping to see more of her and maybe talk her too someday.

Just like I wished but instead of just once it became almost a daily affair, our paths crossed almost everyday at the same spot where we first saw each other and every time she sees me she'll whisper something to her friends and they'll all laugh but I couldn't tell if she was laughing at me or not.
I knew I liked this girl but I couldn't summon up the courage to tell her all three years of my secondary school days and almost every day we meet at the same spot and i'll just admire her neat uniform and she will always put up that cute laughter with her friends and I will shyly walk away hoping I could talk to her. It became like a daily routine like we have a time machine that tells us when we will get to that, sometimes if I get there before she does i'll wait for her hoping she comes just to admire that purple and white uniform covering her innocence.

One day I summoned up courage and I was willing to make my big move but when I saw her I froze up like an ice fish and just watched her walk her away again without saying a word not even the simplest conversation starter 'Hi' was uttered from me.
The next time I saw her all I could do was to trace her to her house but yet I didn't actually pick out the compound she entered but I was sure if I do ask around with her description one or two persons can be able to point her to me and I actually did that was when I get to know her name was Iheoma and that was all that I could tell and that was the last I ever did see of her too until today when I saw her again.

The crush I once had was gone, that natural beauty with pale lips and bright eyes, was not what I saw again, to struggle to fit into the society lady has taken over, Mary kay knows her face better her lips has kissed more lipsticks than a reverend father has to Communion. She might still be beautiful to some but I was sure my secondary crush is far gone.
She looked at me, hopefully she recognised me but I wasn't interested anymore.

Friday 2 September 2016

Slap Sticks

I have been hearing of uniformed  men giving incessant slaps to civilians but I have never experienced it first hand. Today a friend of mine received one so hot you can be able make eba from it.

We were sitting together at the veranda when one rickety looking police van stopped by and it's occupants jumped out like they saw the leader of boko haram lying about and it is their life opportunity of capturing him, we both watched in amazement as they approached us, pointing their long guns at us and commanding us to stand up at the same time. I kept mute looking at them and hoping their impromptu charade will just wear off soon so we can continue our gist.

One of the police men looked at us sternly and asked why we were laughing at them and my friend amused by the question gave a little chuckle and there it comes, the very thunder sango commanded was on his face from the palm of this police man, even me, I felt the sting of the slap in my veins and immediately I had goosebumps like bathing cold water in hammartan.

He wasn't through though but I managed to explain to him that I was just sharing a joke to my friend about a girl I met in the bus though stuttering, I couldn't tell why he believed me but he became calm and told us to be careful next time before matching back to their van.
I knew it wasn't funny but inside of me I almost died of laughter infact he went straight to his room and fell asleep and by the time he woke up his face is swollen and I could still feel the tribal marks the police man gave him from his palm.

I learnt my lesson never to laugh at mopol or I will end up with a self inflicted tattoo on my face.