On Being Caught in the Middle of a Mob Fight

Dear Diary,

        I was at Orile on Wednesday. As I got there, a young thug started beating a young lady up, and she was not having it. She kicked back, screaming and clawing at him. He kept pummelling her, in public. You know how public Orile is. Next thing you know, a bigger thug tore off his shirt and started beating the younger thug. He punched him, pushed him in front of cars, thankfully the traffic was tight so the cars weren’t moving any faster than freshly-fed anacondas. 

A crowd gathered to watch the spectacle, and before I knew what it, everyone started beating each other up. Punches were thrown without a care, spit flew in every direction, bags and shoes were hurled at people. It was a freak show.

And there I was caught in the middle of it.

How I managed to escape the mob action is a miracle.
When I managed to crawl out from the middle of the action without a scratch or being pulled back in, I saw a couple of Police Officers standing by, watching the action and laughing.

The Nerve!!!

THE END!!!

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Transvestite Child.

Dear Diary,

       Here’s a little throwback to the days of my childhood. I was a happy little child living with my parents and sister somewhere near the University of Calabar campus. At the point of this story I was roughly 6 or 7 years old…or younger. I dunno.

Ego, my sister, and I had childhood friends in the neighbourhood; Nana and Anthonia our Ghanaian friends, Umoh, Etete and Nko, our next door neighbours whose father was a tyrant and whose mother was passive aggressive, and Etekamba or Hassan, the light-skinned boy who the entire neighbourhood of parents and daughter doted on. We all used to play house, dress up and karate.

One day, Ego my evil sister dared me to be the bride.

And of course I, not one to shy away from an act of childish stupidity, said yes. So Ego brought out my mother’s favourite yellow and green lace wrapper, blouse and scarf and made a wedding gown and veil out of it. It was, now I think about it retrospectively, quite genius of an 8 or 9 year old.

The foolish game of DARE was not complete without the traditional bridal walk down the street. And I agreed. What the hell was I thinking??

So here I was, a little boy blithely unaware of the social consequence of being in a woman’s attire, walking rather nobly down the street. What day of the week was this? I don’t remember. Where were all the adults living in that street to stop me and give me a good spanking? I don’t know either. It was like a rapture of the adults.

When I was a good way down the street, maybe 60 metres, Ego shouted “NONSO, DADDY AND MOMMY ARE COMING BACK!!!”

I didn’t need any further warning or a prophet or interpreter to relay to me what kind of danger I was in.

Girl, I ran.

Turned back and started running as fast as I could to the house. Damn that evil girl Ego, she tied the wrapper too tight and I was practically hopping like a penguin. Of course when you’re in trouble, you immediately cease to think straight. All your energy goes into the basic human instinct of survival. “DO NOT LET YOUR PARENTS CATCH YOU IN YOUR MOTHER’S CLOTHES!!”

I ran.
I ran. As fast as I could with my wedding gown’s train following me regally on the dirty street.

I ran.
For my life.
For the lives of my generation yet unborn.

I ran. All of a sudden, my friends; Nana, Anthonia, Umoh, Etete, Hassan, all of them disappeared.
Such friends I had!!!

Thank God I got home before my parents caught sight of me. Ego deftly untied her creation from off me and placed them under the pile of clothes to be washed.
And the day was saved.

I am no transvestite. I have no such desires or inclinations. Thank God. Maybe the thought of my impending murder scared any traces of that out of my system. Cause Mr and Mrs Iwuchukwu would have killed the hell out of me!!!

Basically my weekend was…

Yesterday Vivienne dragged me to a wedding.
In Ikeja.
As her date.
Much younger date.
You know,
younger men…
older women…
All the rage now.

Anyway, the wedding, I don’t want to diss it, but I will summarise it all:
the rude caterers, the waiters that bluntly refused to serve us food or drinks, the rowdy guests; more than half of which of course are unknown to the bride and groom, the few polished people that looked so uncomfortable seated amongst the uncouth majority, the male and female M.Cs that were deeply not-funny and whose jokes grated on my nerves, the passersby who saw a wedding party and crashed it to eat free food, the people who went around with crisp N100 notes to sell for those archaic people who still spray money on newlyweds during their first dance despite CBN’s ban on that Naira-bastardizing act, the simply awful people who hid their plates of just-finished food under their tables and then said to the waiters “Since I came, I haven’t even seen water to drink.”,
I summarise it all with this picture of the plate of small chops I finally received.

Today, Service was great. My old friend I don’t get to see often, Kezi came to my church and since people seem to think we look alike, I took him round and paraded him off as my brother and everyone fell for it.

He so vain, ain’t he?

It’s raining profusely. It’s Segun’s birthday

and he (left) Gbenga. (right) and I(nowhere in sight) were supposed to go see X-Men together but alas, the rains would not let them even near Surulere. 😦 ߘȰߑ

Tomorrow is the day I shall summon the courage to inform my boss that I am off to South Africa to partake in a televised music talent competition show. I hope he takes it well, and says yes. If he doesn’t, well, I’m still going shaaa.

A classy WEDnesday WEDding

Dear Diary,

          I was invited to sing at a wedding on Wednesday. I thought it a little weird for a wedding to take place on a Wednesday evening, but then I figured…it’s a WEDnesday, so I guessed it made perfect sense.

It was in Ikoyi. The setup was simple, classy and smelled of OLD money. That’s the best kind. Subtle and not at all ostentatious. 

The wedding was out under the trees overlooking the wavy waters and the reception was on the other side of the fenced divide. I met the groom, thought he was very practical coming straight from work in his green shirt and tie until it dawned on me that green was the colour of the evening. I felt so out of place in the blue something I wore.

Speaking of practicality, there were no bridesmaids or groomsmen. I heaved a heavy sigh of relief. I am so over the bridesmaid/maid of honour-Groosmen/best man tradition.

Champagne was in abundance. The venue overlooked the water dividing Ikoyi and Victoria Island. The couple said their vows under a mango tree and a palm tree both whistling and dancing in the ocean wind.
The guests were few, thank God, and everyone spoke proper English and said ‘please’, ‘excuse me’ and ‘thank you’.
Other than the waves splashing salt water on my face every now and then, I’d say the event went on without a hitch.

So here I was at this fabulous wedding and the food menu promised so much artistic and culinary wonder and all I just wanted to eat right now is Agege bread. Someone stab me in the foot already. You can take the man out of the bush, but….you know…

The DJ started playing a Psquare song and the groom freaked. “NO NIGERIAN SONGS PLEASE!!!”

LoL. I wasn’t surprised, both bride and groom, most of they family and friends came in from abroad. I ain’t judging.

I ate Herbed Basmati rice, beef roulade with salsa, a peculiar kind of salad I haven’t seen before, plantain slices and chicken in groundnut sauce. Hmmmm.
I missed the chocolate cake but was consoled with a healthy helping of red velvet cake with ice cream and wafers.
Hmmm. I will stop at this point. The bushman in me is coming up and out of control thinking about this.

Island weddings rock!!!

Stayed Up All Night Watching Scandal

Dear Diary,

       I slept at Ego’s house last night. (Ego is my big sister. Not so big though. Just 2 years bigger)
I went there because she cooked Afang soup. And I had to eat that.

Although it’d be more apt to say I STAYED at Ego’s last night considering that I didn’t sleep one wink. Ego, her friend Precious and I were up all night watching Scandal season 3 reruns. 

That show is amazing!!!

Shonda Rhimes is AMAZING!!!

Ego wasn’t up for watching the show with us but at some point she had to wake up because Precious and I couldn’t ‘HMMM’ loud enough. Between us both we downed 4 bottles of Pepsi, Coke, Fanta and Mirinda and actually clinking our bottles and saying cheers to every one of Olivia Pope’s victories.
God that show is amazing!!!

LoL don’t they look just terrible? LoL

We finished Scandal season 3 at 4:52am and then I tried to sleep. I dreamed that I was also amazing, like Olivia and Papa and Mama Pope. But just as soon as I was about to crack a case and have a major victory, Ego kicked me awake. It was time to get up for work.

She ruined my victory!!
My Olivia Pope moment. Ruined!!

I Hate her.!!!!!!!!

In other unrelated news. It’s Africa Fashion Week Nigeria.
How do I know? Well, it pays to have friends in fashion…and also the thing held in the hall next to the one my church meets at at the Eko Hotel.

I was around to see the preps for the show, all the models on full display; long legs, diva attitudes and all. And of course no fashion show would be complete without The Gays of our Lives, strutting their…stuff across the hallways, selling their market, helping designers and other preparations for the show or pretending they actually have any single shred of talent for designing clothes or putting clothes together.
Just because you wear ‘different’ clothes don’t make you a designer or stylist. I’m just done with this.

So, in honour of the current fashion week, I chose to do something I would not normally do. Be fashionable.

OK I just lied.

But I did put on white trousers though.

Yes. And I don’t look like a mafia gang member or a secondary school boy.

No pictures please.

So I urge everyone this week to just do it. Throw caution to the wind and live vicariously, dress-wise of course.

Now I’m at work, sleep-depraved. Turns out The Star audition I went for and got in showed up in the Vanguard on Friday. Now my colleagues are all over me. Could today be anymore embarrassing?

Seriously guys, I’m wearing white pants here.
And I look juvenile in that newspaper article photo.

*covers face*

Beach Day

Dear Diary,

           

Today I went to the beach with my friends in the choir.

I, as you can see, wore a rebellious tee shirt that had “I WILL NOT WORK HARD” boldly inscribed on it. And people avoided me like a plague.

It was fun. And now I am tired as hell.

I want to talk about Elegushi. Sorry, please who said that that place is a beach? That person should go to the Gambia, or South of France…or even Badagry here.
I was under the impression that the beach is where you go to connect with nature, God and yourself. You know.

Anyone with me here?

Anyone?

No one?

OK, I guess it’s just me then.

Anyway, I witnessed a clash of expensive sitting areas, touts threatening to deflate your car tires if you don’t patronise them, loud music everywhere and people, lots and lots of people.

No serenity.

I wasn’t pleased.

We wanted to be by ourselves…and of course a few other people around, not the entire Nigeria.
But of course we had to work with all this to enjoy ourselves. There’s no way we could just walk out after having paid so much money to get in.

Let’s not forget how much construction work is going on there and there is less and less sand for people to walk on, since the business people have overtaken the remaining free areas with their huts and bamboo clubs and bars. And of course the horse riders who will not leave me alone despite how many times I tell them I don’t want to ride their horses.
Can’t I just be by myself in peace?

Anyway, despite all the challenges that beset us, we had fun. Since we couldn’t get the serenity we hoped for, we worked the chaos to our advantage and had a blast playing football, board games, eating cake, food and having drinks, taking photographs, dancing and watching a young man masturbate somewhere he thought we wouldn’t see him.

*shaking my head*

It was a fun day all in all. And I had my feet exfoliated for free by the beach sand. So it wasn’t all bad.

More photos to come after I find a computer to copy them to from my camera. I still don’t have a laptop. Oh God of Israel.