Dear Diary,

           Lagos is a fast growing world  metropolis and it NEEDS certain improvements or changes to enable it cope with the rapid growth and not-so-corresponding development.
I shall be posting my views and opinions one by one, daily.

1. No more new churches.
Take note Redeemed Christian Church of God. I’m tired of seeing 6 of you in one street, and behind my house, with nothing tangible to show for your presence therein. I would have thought that the church is a congregation of light-bearers and salts-of-the-earth. Alas, in spite of the pervading presence of numerous churches in Lagos, crime abounds, healthcare still is above the reach of the needy, instead of education to be made available for the not-so-wealthy, the church creates schools with insane costs of tuition and not-as-high corresponding standards of education.

The only sign of the presence of the numerous church gatherings on our streets is the noise. The incessant ‘holy’ noise.

There is the Mountain of Fire gathering that screams death by fire every other morning on my street. They won’t pray for peace in our nation, they won’t  take out of the offerings and tithes they raise to fix the deplorable little road of our street, they won’t have a cook-out to feed hungry children, they won’t visit the hospital nearby with food and provision. No. They will only pray with fire from their tiny concave. Or is it conclave? There are more than 5 churches in my tiny street and there is no development therein.

I’m not blaming the church for the state of the areas in which it finds itself or accruing the entire responsibility of providing much needed infrastructure the Government has failed oh so graciously in providing for its citizens on the church, but then again, isn’t it only fitting that the church steps up to do what the society has failed to do in only so pragmatic ways, healthcare, love, accessible education? What does the church do with our money? God’s money? Other than clothing the Pastors and buying them more jets than billionaires all over the world of course.

Please no more preaching and praying until I see you show actual real original (Nollywood) love.

I believe it was St Ignatius who said “Preach the Gospel. If necessary, use words.”

Whatever happened to adding value to the community? No, the church only takes and takes and never gives back.
Don’t get me wrong, many churches are getting it right. Like the one I go to.

(No names called)

(The Waterbrook Church).

But for every 100, only 5 churches try to do the right thing.

So, the Lagos State Government should ban further formation of new churches. No one should be allowed to sell property or rent to any new church. Let the numerous ones already on ground learn to get the work of God done. Abeg, we need the space the extra useless churches are occupying to pray for wealth and  miraculous job opportunities to actually build offices and business spaces to help curb the unemployment rate that isn’t getting lower.
Lagos is not the only God-fearing city in the world. Of which, even that God-fearing status it claims, is highly disputable


Dear Diary,

       So here’s an interesting story. I got to South Africa to compete in a TV music game show…and failed spectacularly.


At this moment, I’m simply trying to feel something. I’m sure I will soon. Just not yet. And I am yearning to feel something; hurt, disappointment, gratitude, shame, tears, anything. Maybe I need to process this with time.

But before I start feeling any or all of those, here’s what I know firsthand

1. It is a learning experience. Granted, the song I sang wasn’t my strongest, definitely not the intended way I would have sang it. But I did. And I’m gonna learn from it. Maybe write an album. Be stronger. Bolder.

2. It is never the end. I am gonna be a singer. The fact that I got voted off a show doesn’t mean I have no talent or I’m less amazing. I know who I am, what I have and can do. And now I will fight uninhibitedly to do what I love to do and can do. Sing.

3. I think I needed this fail more than a win. I really do. I kinda almost expected to get this on a platter of gold, no matter how nervous I was about doing this. Now as I said before, I’m gonna think long and hard. And I’m gonna learn something from this. Not sure what yet. But I will. I will not make excuses. Destiny depends on me.

Now I have to go. I feel something welling up in my inside.

Maybe it’s the tears.

I don’t even know what to say at this point.


Dear Diary,

        It is no news that Nigeria is in a state of disrepair. Utter lawlessness abounds within the ranks of those who are to enforce the law; this morning, soldiers set 4 BRT buses ablaze because one of their comrades on his bike was knocked down by a BRT bus.


Please help me ask them what the man was doing on the BRT lane.

Confab had a protracted meeting and all they could come up with was to add 18 new states to the 36 on ground that the Federation is bursting at the seams trying to keep from breaking into pieces from the whole nation. And one of the delegates said the name ‘Nigeria’ should be changed to ‘Airegin’.


What is this? Game of Thrones?

Why on earth do we need new States? New parastatals? Why does everyone want to be Oga? Why do we abuse power, right from the lowest security guard to the Presidency? Isn’t that the reason why I work in the Aviation Industry where all the Government agencies are separated for no concrete sensible reason; NAMA, FAAN, NCAA, AIB? Why can’t they all just be one controlling-regulating body like it’s done in other countries of the world?

Twitter is abuzz with criticisms, the Government remains forever an information hoarder. Nigerians want to know really what the deal is with the kidnapped girls, the terrorist attacks, because now we know it isn’t a religious crisis. Muslims suffer as well in the onslaught.

Many people I know are ‘checking out’. Nigerians are cutting off limbs, heads and genitals to secure UK, Canadian and American visas.  There is no real sense of safety here. You may wake one morning with hopes and plans and just get blown up to eternity while running an errand before the day runs out.
Is that a way to live?

They say we should be the change we want to see. How in practical terms do we do that? Is it hard? We know it’s hard, but how hard is it really, cause I don’t wanna have to die for Nigeria my country?! Nigerians are nothing like ants. We aren’t bound together by a common aim. We are more like cockroaches; everyone seeking their own personal better. If one dies, we climb over the unfortunate fallen one and continue trying to get our own better.

Is this really a way to live?

Lagos Beggars.

Dear Diary,

There is this little boy who begs on the Ikeja road to the airport. He twists his right hand to look deformed. Not a very good attempt, if you ask me.

It cracks me up really.
Maybe I should take a photo.

I have looked at him closely, there is no burn or deformity there. I have even seen him at unguarded moments when his ‘deformed’ hand isn’t so deformed anymore.
Then I pity him. He couldn’t possibly have decided to stand on the road begging, could he?


Begging in Lagos….and the rest of Nigeria has become a lucrative business. In Calabar, they used to bring them in vans to beg early in the morning and at night they’d be whisked away to submit the proceeds of the day to whoever their pimp is. I hope the State Government has been able to do something about it.

There’s the lady with the pepertual scowl on her face still here in Ikeja under the bridge. Since I started working here at the airport in 2012 till now, I see her everyday quoting the same not-so-sad-anymore story “please help me, my mother is dying. She’s at the General Hospital.” I used to give her money but now I’ve grown weary of her. One time I actually asked her “Your mama never die yet?”

Then there are the others who beg and take phone calls with rather fancy phones that I don’t even use.


There’s this man I met at Oshodi who was begging every and anyone for N20 to add to his money to pay his fare to Obalende. He’d been begging everyone and still begging me. So I told him “oya come let me pay the bus fare for you. Enter the bus!” He shouted at me o. He told me to not spoil his market if I do not want to give him money.
Girl, I ran away o. Before I will just see a Nigerian movie play out in front of me where his fellow beggars will surround me and beat me.

Let’s not forget the “corporate beggars.”


Makes me feel bad for those genuine beggars who have nothing. Cause I hardly want to give to any of them.


Dear Diary,

     Still in the Throwback spirit, let’s talk old movies.



You know how when you’re a child all movies are either superbly amazing or just plain boring…and when you grow up to see those movies again they are either still amazing or more terrible, sometimes they switch from being boring to pretty amazing because now you understand what exactly is going on there.

Well, Desperado moved from amazing to CRAPPY AS HELL!!!!

So, I was at Ego’s place…again.

At this point, let me state for the record that I am not attached to her apron strings. I don’t go there a lot as you may be inclined to think actually. But whenever I do, there always seems to be a story to tell afterwards.

So I was there, and I turned on the TV, Desperado was about to begin. I was excited. I remember when I first saw it as a street urchin hanging outside one of our rich neighbours ‘ door. This was sometime around Aaliyah’s death, big screen TVs were becoming a thing of status. Mr Cordelia’s father Smart just bought a big screen TV and we the neighbourhood children were in awe of him and our parents were naturally green with envy.
Mr and Mrs Cordelia’s parents knew the street children loved to hang around to watch TV and they generously left their door open for all of us scruffy urchins to watch from outside. Desperado was showing, I just had to stand outside the open door to watch it.

It was everything a young boy with hopes of being a badass swashbuckling badass could be.
Gunslinging skill, check.


Pretty woman by his side, check.
Mexico, check.


Explosions, check.


Blood, check.

It was the Latino “The Good, The Bad & The Ugly”

I mean!!!!

Antonio Banderas was the Latin Chuck Norris, Bruce Willis, Van Damme and Jet Li all in one. Desperado was the movie of the century as far as I was concerned.

Fast forward 13 years after, Desperado is about to show again. I want to relive those childhood moments of adrenaline and nostalgia and everything. So I wait. The movie starts. I wait. The movie is half an hour in. I wait. The movie is halfway through to the end. I’m rolling my eyes vigorously. Still waiting. The movie’s idea of a climax has approached. I wait. The climax has happened. I am painfully disappointed. Still, I wait. Maybe there’s hope in the end. I wait. The movie ends. I feel like I solicited the services of an old prostitute with herpes. All my waiting.

For nothing.

Desperado has come and gone and all I could see was Telemundo, Telemundo, Telemundo. Overdramatic, Latin music, terrible acting, poor plot play, Salma Hayek in all her début hotness with the 2 different coloured shoes she wore, Antonio Banderas is actually quite a terrible actor when you really think about it, Telemundo, more Telemundo.

Now I’m afraid to see Mask of Zorro again because I don’t want to hate it as much as I now hate Desperado. Let my childhood memories be left intact.

Don’t Mess With Anyone Named Tchina!!!

Dear Diary,

I bet you will have the same response as I did when I first read this. 

Here goes.

So a certain rapper best known for dating Khloe Kardashian, French Montana posted a rather unflattering photo of Everybody Hates Chris actress, Tchina Arnold and joked thus:
“I wish Martin could see this right now. He would tear her ass up.”


Tchina responded thus:



So here is my carefully outlined take on this.

1. Who the hell is French Montana?
2. Really, who is French Montana?
3. Never EVER mouth off on anyone named Tchina!!!
4. Tchina is a GHETTO AS HELL name.
5. You don’t need to be foul-mouthed to finish someone. For further education, please watch a few episodes of Downton Abbey and take a cue from the Aristocratic post-Edwardian English folks.

My House Got Flooded. Again.

Dear Diary,

       Yesterday it rained not so heavily for about 3-4 hours. It started about 1am. And by 4:30am water came streaming into my house. 


Good thing I was awake.

Next thing I was running around like a headless specter trying to carry all of my few beloved possessions and stack them up and away from watery demolition. In less than 10 minutes my entire house was thigh deep in murky water.


There was light the entire time.

It was funny to see my bathroom wall colonised by cockroaches trying to escape death by drowning. LoL. Suckers!!!!


But I am done with all this. Got to get the hell outta here. Rats. Cockroaches. Flood. Constant power supply. I’m sick of it all. 


Flooded House

Dear Diary,


My house is flooded.


It rained sometime during the wee hours of the morning and then I woke up to see water coming into the confines of my dwelling place.


Cool, huh?
I now feel like a total Third Worlder!!


You know what’s the most surprising part of all this?

PHCN…or NEPA, the power holding and withholding people haven’t switched off the power since yesterday till now. Light still dey. Dem no take am.

I know right?!

Oh well. I count my blessings in every storm…or flood. I’ve called in flooded to work. Once the water stops coming in I will summon a mallam or two to bail it all out and then I have a whole day to sleep. Or read. Or eat. Or do nothing.

I shall read. And then read some more. Knowledge is key.

But on the flip side, I’m moving out of this Waterhole. I’m done with this!!!