Hawaii or Alaska.....Where Are You Headed??

Heyy blogsville,

I read this article on Bella by Ekene Onu, the author of one of my fave books the Mrs Club, and I loved the analysis, and thought I should share it with you! Yes, I know I am too good to you. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

"The other day I was speaking to a dear friend who is waiting for her life partner. She is of age and has everything going for her and she is currently single. I understand her angst, I know people may think yeah, yeah, you are already married how can you relate? Well while I may not fully grasp the depth of her concern, rest assured I myself felt it at times.

We had an interesting conversation. She was telling me about a man who had come on the scene but he had a few hiccups or commas or red flags. She had asked me for advice about whether or not she should proceed with this man. He had many of the qualities that she wanted but he also had many of the flaws she desperately wanted to avoid. I listened to her, this brilliant, compassionate, solid woman, someone who I often turned to for counsel, tell me her reasons for considering this man. She kept talking and I kept asking questions and then she said something that I love her for. She broke it down honestly. “I am not getting any younger and it’s not like I have a lot of prospects, so maybe I should just take what is in front of me”. I was so glad when she put it plainly because here was something we could deal with.

I couldn’t tell her whether or not he would be a good man because only God knows a man’s heart…and even the bible tells us it can be desperately wicked.I couldn’t tell her if she would be happy with him, even couples who profess undying love at the wedding day sometimes hate each other later.

I could tell her though that the smoke one sees when dating, typically becomes a well stoked fire in marriage.I could tell her that those red flags usually become flashing sirens later on.I could tell her that I loved her enough not to want her to suffer unnecessarily.

I asked her to picture herself in an airport and her marriage a destination. Where would she like to go? Perhaps she thought of a picturesque place like Hawaii; a destination known for its beaches and tropical flavor. Perhaps she had packed a bikini and sunglasses for her trip.Now I wanted her to picture the departure board. All the flights to Hawaii were delayed until further notice. None of the airline staff had any information, except that they knew that corporate planned to send the planes. People seemed to be boarding planes all around her, but when she looked the only available flight she could get on was headed directly to Alaska and it was leaving soon.

What to do? She is not packed for Alaska. She doesn’t even like snow. But it’s the only available flight. Maybe she could learn to like snow, maybe she could buy a parka over there. Don’t they have like a month of summer?All these thoughts rush through her head.
I asked her, is there some apocalyptic event happening at the airport. If you don’t board the plane, is your life in danger?Because there was one other thing I knew for sure. The plane to Alaska will never go to Hawaii.As for her questions, well she could maybe buy a parka. I know many women (and men for that matter) who are in marriages that are difficult because the parties involved were prepared for different experiences and somehow found themselves on the wrong plane. She could learn to like snow, certainly probably after many cold nights, after all I also know marriages that seemed doomed from the start eventually after much heartache and God’s intervention become sweet and loving.

The point of all this is simply this. I love my friend and so I shared with her what I want to share with you. Marriage is not a simple, uncomplicated affair. Even when you are perfectly matched you may find challenges and when you are not if can be a Herculean task to make it work and it will not come without a great deal of heartache and pain. So I know the wait may seem endless and it seems like your partner isn’t out there. I want to encourage you to wait for what you know in your heart that you want and need, as long as those wants are not based on superficial nonsense but rooted in reality and come from true introspection, then wait.

I know the screen says delayed. I know you don’t have any information as to when it is coming. I know you have a wave of panic welling up inside of you.But please know this, if you get on the plane bound for the wrong destination, that’s it. You are on the plane. The pilot will not stop and let you get off. And you may be thinking well I’ll just get divorced. Not as easy as folks make it look, like two pieces of paper that are stuck together can rarely be separated without one or both of them ripping, most people do not get out of divorces completely intact and without some serious and possibly life changing pain and consequences.

Please wait for what you want. Yes, I’m on the other side. So I should have credibility, I know exactly what shade of green the grass is here and I know just how many weeds there are too.Wait, and while you are waiting, look around you…it’s a nice airport, state of the art, they have a lounge where you can get facials and massages, the best restaurants and the shopping is freaking awesome!

Love you. Be well.

Precautionary Love.....

Heyy bloggsville,

Have you missed me? So before I start the subject of this post, I have to tell you something me that has had me cracking up at work. This might be a breach of confidentiality or something, but I just have to share it. In our names database you come across the funniest names ever, my faves are:

-Mariah Hooker

-Dick Longbottom

-Mr Posey

-John Scruedis

-Mr Hood

and a company called Superwinch Ltd.......Lmaooo!

But back to this gist, I was trying to hook my friend up my cousins (yes i am a perpetual matchmaker), and she was asking the normal questions you would want to know when you are getting fixed up. Now she was all enthused about it, and willing to talk to him until she found out that he was muslim. Once this fact came out, she lost interest like a deflated baloon, and didnt even want to bother to get to know him anymore.

Now this is a something that I am noticing more and more with my friends, they are unwilling to get to even know a guy who doesnt have what they consider "social compatability". This is when you have a list of social factors that a person must have to even qualify for a relationship. It usually consists of age, race, religion, culture, education, nationality, beliefs, and even blood group. Some of these are more important than others, but the most common is religion.

It might be seem really hypocritical of me to comment on this as I have only ever dated muslim guys, BUT I have never intentionally chosen to only date people who are muslims, its just pure coincedence! I swear......but subconsciously a part of me thinks........is it?

Anyway this isnt about me, but one of my friends, Oye is all for this precautionary love. She believes that why should you bother falling for a guy where you can forsee so many problems in the future?

Two of my best friends have broken up with guys that they were absolutely in love with because of religion. And in both cases, the women were willing to sacrifice their religion to be with the man, but the guys were not willing to and broke it off. This is because women are always more willing to compromise in relationships when they fall, so the logic is why put yourself in such a difficult situation in the first place.

Oye believes that emotions are one of those things that we can actually control, in this world where so many things are out of our hands. Even in relationships where you are a 100% compatible, there are over a million problems that could crop up. So why add on top of your worries?

So her theory is if you are getting to know someone and you have some major divides in social/cultural values that you are not willing to compromise in, then stop, before too much gets involves.

The key here is "willing to compromise". For some people, religion is not such a big issue, maybe being conservatice or labour is something that you are not willing to compromise on.

But my question is, do you prevent yourself from getting to know someone just because this? What if that person you do not want to give a chance because of a social reason turns out to be the love of your life??

What if you never get to know what true love means because you are not willing to open your heart to someone who doesnt fit into your ideal? I have never said that I could not be with a person because of their race, religion, culture or beliefs. I am a free spirit and believe that we can find love in the most unexpected places if we open our eyes and hearts. One of my fave movies is Something New because it tells the story of a closed minded woman who finds love after she frees her closed mind, so that when she does find what she thought she wanted, it does not bring her the joy that she was so sure it would.

Now this type of love is always more difficult, more complicated, and will be socially frowned upon. Just last week, my dad was hinting that he would like all his children to marry yorubas. Me and my bro laughed our heads off cause we both knew that was never going to happen. Yes, it is alwayes harder, to try and understand others, accept each other's beliefs and priorities, but that extra difficultly just might be worth it.

I think that we, as Nigerian women especially, can be so closed minded sometimes. Naija guys are more willing to date any colour or type as girl as long as they like her, and I think that we need to give this a try. We definately need to try Something New........

Enjoy

xoxo

Miss B.

Food Without Meat??? Ridiculous!!!

Heyy blogsville,

I have been without internet for a while so blogging has become so difficult! But anyway I had to top-up my mobile broadband to ask you guys this question:

Can you guys voluntarily eat food without meat?? Ok firstly when I say meat, I mean beef, chicken, fish or any other form of protein. And secondly this does not refer to Nigerians, because the who topic started from two of my best friends, one from Sri Lanka and the other from Barbados, so you see this is an international topic! lol


Ok so it all started when my Caribbean friend came to visit me, and she had told me to make her Jollof Rice cause she loves it. So before she came, I had started making it but I had not defrosted any chicken, so I thought, nah, it doesnt matter we'll just have the jollof rice with some coleslaw.


MENN BIG MISTAKE! She was like WHAT?? How can you make food without any meat?? How can we eat it?? It wont work oh! Then my brother and b.f come in to eat as well while we were having the argument, and they were like Bukky are you making sense?? How could you make j.rice of all things without any meat??

So GET THIS- even though the jollof rice was ready and we are all starving, these carnivores make me defrost chicken, boil and roast it before we could eat!!


So I decided to look into this issue, and I did survey of about 15 of my friends from different backgrounds, and they all said the same thing........why would you want to eat food without meat by choice?
During my research my Sri Lankan friend happen to mention that she got pissed off cause she wanted to go for an Islamic dinner, but they were only serving vegetarian food, and she got so pissed saying: "how can you charge £20 for food without meat?? It just wrong based on principles!!"


OMG I fell off the bed with laughter, because she said it with so much anger! I could not even argue with her cause she looked like she would bitchslap me if I tried! When I told other people this as well, they were like Ofcourse shes right, even with £2 you can get food with meat, so why would you pay so much for just veggies?? Mchewww


I found this so hilarious because I would pay £20 for a salad sef, talkmore of a vegetarian meal! I am not a fussy eater at all, so I can eat anything at anytime. For example, my bajan friend always has to have a meal for dinner, i.e carbs, protein n veggies, while I could just have cereal and toast, or celery and humous, or a sandwhich and I am good. I dont know why I am like this, because at home we always have food with some sort of meat, even breakfast was always yam with fishstew, bread with egg, potato with cornedbeef and even cereal with chicken. There is no point where we do not have a dead animal in our freezer!

Even S.B said that if I want a quick divorce, I should serve my mother-in-law food without meat and rest assured the divorce is on its way! LOL!
I also discovered that alot of people find it quite insulting for you to offer food without any meat, and feel the need to apologize if there is none.


But the most general reason is that as children, we are brought up to look forward to the meat, almost like the reward for eating the meal. S.B still has to eat her fries before the chicken nuggets because she just cannot eat the meat first out of re-enforced upbringing. In most homes, you cannot eat the meat and not finish the food, if you are not hungry, then no meat for you!

Why do so many people have this mentality? I find it so intriguing because I can go a whole week without eating any meat. I think i have found the topic of my PHD thesis......,,LOL

Enjoy

Pictures Courtsey of Alhaji's Food Blog

xoxo

Miss B

Cash or Credit Finale.........

The wait is finally over........

Cash or credit 8 can be found HERE!


12.42pm
Friday afternoon elevator Holloway Grove Victoria Island

Tongue sucking and bottom lip biting, chests heaving with frantic breathing, moans and sighs exaggerated, expressed in ragged puffs. Jennifer Ovbiagele had a brief lapse in judgment and was currently enjoying the sweet punishment of her crime. Although she kissed Kabir, quickly he had taken control, and her lips were under his command. It felt so good not to think but feel her every sense heightened. All around the mirrored elevator Kabir’s image stared back at her; Jen watched him nibble her ear, kiss her neck and slide his hand up her thigh seeming to burn through her black trousers all the way down to warm skin. Kabir pushed her harder against the ridge and Jen saw her reaction to him. Watched as her pupils dilated, her nose flared, her back arched and her body shivered, fingers fluttered on his shoulder; she looked like a fiend, an addict to this drug. His hands bunched into fists in her hair and Jen stuck her tongue out to lick his scent into her, scent that she would kiss into his mouth and his skin would sweat out in turn, the circle of lust. Painfully hard nipples pushed against broad chest, and her nails dug into his neck, Jen was naked in both their minds. This was fervor, salacity, wantonness, craving, it was better than before. The forbidden fruit oh so sweeter the second time around, Kabir mumbled things Jen couldn’t hear because her heart was beating too loudly, and at the height of her delight Jen called the name her heart ached for
“Esosa”
“What?” Kabir gasped
Jen uttered gibberish and pulled him back towards her
“That’s not my name Jen” Kabir stood his ground
“No need to get so sensitive” Jen replied annoyed
“Jennifer” he said so sadly walking away
“Why has the kissing stopped?” Jen tried to sound lighthearted
Kabir glanced at her from the end of the carriage and slid to the floor, Jen attempted to walk to him but he put his hand up
“Stay there; I can’t think when you’re close”
“This is silly” Jen tried not to roll her eyes. Kabir looked up sharply
“I am not a booty call”
“I never said that” Jen extended her arm
“Oh drag me into an elevator, kiss me, and then call me by someone else’s name please tell me what else it could be”
Kabir looked on for an explanation that he knew wasn’t coming but still Jen’s ashamed silence hurt
“You know after Halima and I separated I had rare moments of optimism where I believed I would kiss you again, and always I thought it would be out of pity or because you felt responsible for the breakup”
“Kabir…”
“But this Jen is a low blow”
“Kabir…”
“Using me to get your rocks off”
“Hey that’s enough” Jen said loudly
“I am sorry” Jen continued
Kabir stared at her marveled she would even think that would be enough
“This is what you wanted in Abuja” Jen gesticulated wildly, her pitch rising “You said you ‘melt at my touch’, doesn’t it feel good anymore”
“It does not feel RIGHT” Kabir slapped his knee
“I said I was sorry about calling you someone else”
“It is not about him, it is about you. YA ALLAH” Kabir shouted
“Stop screaming at me” Jen warned
“My problem is with you” Kabir pointed aggressively, lowering his tone
Jen sniffed once and laid her palms flat against her face, this had all gone very badly.
“I was dealing with it all, I had made my peace with losing you and I was MOVING ON” Kabir’s voice uncontrollably rose again
“I am so sorry” Jennifer whispered from behind her fingers
“When did you become this person?” Kabir was gaining momentum “you are cold and conniving and …”
Jen’s head jerked up “You started this! From the beginning it has been lies and games on your part. ”
Kabir looked on in awe “So we’re back to poor unfortunate Jen that bad things always seem befall”
“Don’t you dare belittle what you put me through” Jennifer’s voice shook
“You have never been honest with me” Kabir retaliated
“That is not true…”
“I can never tell what mood you’re in; how you will act towards me…it is always a guessing game with you”
“I can’t deal with this” Jen turned her back to him but still his reflection haunted her
“No!” Kabir stood up “For the first time since we met, you will drop that pretentious attitude and give me a straight answer” Jen ignored him
“Do you want to be in a relationship with me?”
“No” Jen whispered
Kabir reeled from her sudden response, “Maybe you need some time to think it through” he tried to salvage his argument
“I just gave you my answer”
“You are indecisive Jen, always have been”
“I mean it this time” Jen turned around
“Then what is this?” Kabir grasped her wrist, waiting for the pulse jump that would surely come
“It does not mean anything” Jen yanked her hand back
“I am no longer your star asshole. I have changed and am willing to make more adjustments” Kabir masked the plea in his voice
“I am not the one you’re looking for” Jen looked into his eyes willing him to see the truth in hers
“So I am only good for one thing” Kabir walked away and slid down to his former position, he stared at the elevator numbers; all floors were lit up furiously. The STOP button had been engaged for too long
Jennifer’s lips were moving but Kabir drowned her out by crowding his head with architectural babble; bronze brake shoes were clamped down along vertical rails in the shaft and mechanical relays were being passed across. Kabir glanced over, Jen was still speaking, he did not need to tune in to know her words were sweetened, candy flossed words of apology. Finally he could take no more and rising quickly disengaged the STOP signal. The panel doors slid open laterally and he walked out.



13.00pm Monday morning Holloway Grove Victoria Island.
Esosa Oyakilhome marched into the lobby squinting against the glare of the glass sculpture as it shone out its rainbow colors across the marble floor, Sandra gave a hearty wave from her desk and for a brief moment Esosa imagined a combination of she and Imade would make for enthusiastic company, then he thought he better not mention this in front of Jen or risk awaking her inner Cupid.
“One day I’ll buy you sunglasses before that thing blinds you” Esosa said as Sandra handed him a visitor card to swipe at the elevator
“I have gist for you” Sandra said putting down her True Love and leaning on her desk, she saw the haste in his face then concluded “I’ll tell you later”
Esosa rode the lift to the fifth floor and strode purposefully towards Jen’s desk. Surprisingly she didn’t turn around as she usually did when he came in, so preoccupied with her work that she never realized he was here till he touched her shoulder. As soon as she turned around Esosa saw something was wrong, Jen was easy to read. She hugged him till he heard a distinctive crack in his chest and proceeded to hug him some more
“I missed you too but I can’t breathe” he suffocated to say
Jen released him and placed a hand on his face staring at him for a long time. Esosa saw the nervous shift of her co-workers and the gossip gleam in one in particular and decided it best they continue this reunion outside
“Have you had lunch?” not letting on he knew something bothered her. Jen shook her head and with that he grabbed her hand and led her to the stairwell.
“What do you want to eat?”
“I am not hungry” Jen said simultaneously
“It’s so good to see your face again” Esosa said “How have you been keeping?”
“I’m not good when you’re away” Jen picked at invisible lint on her check skirt, proceeded to pull down her sleeves then re-did her collar.
Esosa looked on not saying a word; he just held her hand letting her know he was here. This wasn’t the homecoming he envisioned; he hated to think what could be troubling her.
Jen faced him squarely, then her stare wavered, but she forced her neck upright. What was she forcing herself to be brave about?
“Jennife…”
“I am scared you will leave me”
“No” the sincere simplicity in his answer must have reassured her
“I was stupid when you left and I need you to know that I never want to hurt you be-because you-u make me feel. I-I mean w-w-with” her stammering got worse and she could barely make out words
Esosa saw what Jen was trying to tell him and for once in his life, didn’t want to know the truth. Esosa could not take what was coming out from her mouth; it felt like his forehead was being drilled in one side and his eyes burned. All his muscles contracted and his fingers dug into his palm from the tight fist it formed. Every joint ached and he felt if he did not sit down his balance would fail. Jen touched his forearm and at that spot he felt insulted, he told his feet to step away just as she entwined her fingers with his. His body did what it always did when Jen was near and it relaxed, Esosa looked at her bottom lip wobbling and saw the tears forming at the back of her eyes and knew he didn’t care for the completion of her confession. He forgave her, he had to, he needed her. Only around her did his world calm down. He was never afraid around Jen, did not have to pretend to have his affairs in order, emotions under control, he could make mistakes, stutter, she would smile and fix everything. How could he walk away?
“Is it over?”
Jen was still stumbling about the argument that followed; she hoped to finally explain Kabir’s existence in this part.
“Yes. I was just going to say…”
“Do you like me?” It was a difficult question to ask and Esosa felt the shame of it, unconsciously he pressed down on Jen’s hand in his palm
“I more than like you” Jen answered. Was it possible? Would he still have her?
“Then it doesn’t matter” he concluded. Jen’s cowardly conscience did a dance; she didn’t have to go through with it. They could start afresh
Esosa nodded at her and when Jen smiled brightly in response he thought to himself “that’s what put me in trouble in the first place”
“Always do that” he said aloud staring at her smile. Jen raised her lips to his and Esosa met them gently, like it was the first time. It was a light brush of his mouth on hers and then he dragged her close, squeezing tightly
“Jennifer Ovbiagele, will you be my girlfriend?”
Jen giggled at his neck as his arms gripped her like a vice, she felt so safe
“Maybe”
“That’s not good enough” he tickled her
“Yes” Jen screamed dying of laughter “Absolutely”

The following fortnights were the best days of Jennifer’s life. She was dating Esosa and it was what she dreamed it to be. She sang to every song, ate heartedly, glowed, laughed till her sides ached but most importantly she cherished his vulnerable moments. For they were still few and far between, he spoke more about his step mother and sisters, father and Ghana, his boss and his pastor. Jen had been to his house in Surulere thrice more and on each occasion she and Osaze played their courtesy game, all smiles in the living room but his gloves came off when they were alone. She didn’t mind, it was Osaze. Jen had spare keys to Esosa’s car and occasionally forgot to fill up the tank, had prepared his favorite dish on more than one occasion in both his kitchen and hers, met everyone in his office including Mr. Adebayo and had a pending invitation to his church. She was a girlfriend. Jen was enjoying the honeymoon period but also looking forward to the arguments and quarrels in the long run that would make them a stronger couple. Esosa wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she. It was easy. Jen could speak to him about anything and he was rapidly becoming her best friend.
It was a morning blessed with good thoughts that she met Jummai Dansabe and all was changed.
Jen ran in from the rain, rapidly getting soaked from the short distance of the taxi to Esosa’s office. He teased her that her body attracted water, though he never seemed to complain when she was wet Jen thought ruefully. The office was deserted, expected on a Saturday for everyone except her workaholic boyfriend.
“Playtime’s over” she called from the door
Esosa looked up from his desktop and smiled at her wet pink jersey dress as it dripped water to her wedges.
“Did you swim here?”
“Had to make room for your relatives on the boat, they want to make it to England before nightfall”
Esosa laughed his loud laugh good naturedly and opened his arms, Jen ran into them and soon his body heat was warming her up.
“What you working on?”
“Dansabe Textiles” he replied handing her the gross figures for last quarter
Jennifer’s body went cold as it always did when she heard that name, a feeling her conscience told her to expect for many years to come.
“Jen didn’t you hear me?” Esosa asked, loosening his hold so he could look down at her face
“No sorry” Jen apologized
“I asked if you thought spending 25% extra annually on insecticide is worth the profit generated with large scale irrigation”
“You’re the genius” she teased
“Jen” Esosa said seriously
“Ok. Just this one, then we are going out for meat pie like you promised.” Jen waited for Esosa to agree as he would never go back on his word. “How much do you currently spend on fertilizer?” she asked searching for a calculator, he must have one somewhere…
“Esosa do we pay you to enlist outside help?” a voice from the doorway; musical, soft and with a Hausa lilt
Jen and Esosa look up, nearly bumping heads; Jummai strolled in magically converting the linoleum floor into a walkway. The family resemblance was undeniable; the hair, the nose and the diamonds gleaming from her ears, wrists and neck screamed royalty. Jen felt her happiness fade.

Esosa greeted Jummai and introduced his girlfriend, before he could utter her name Jen stood up and shook hands with the devil. Proceeding to report what excellent progress was being made on the account. Jummai made herself at home, adjusting the batwing style sleeves of her turquoise silk-chiffon kaftan dress. Her Philippe Audibert diamond bracelet clinked as she traced her fingers along the multi-colored beaded trim at the neck of her dress. Jen could not stop staring, how did someone stand being so beautiful? The grace in her movements distinguished her upbringing from others and even with the rain outside she was dry as a bone, right down to her Stella McCartney sandals. Jummai was a walking couture magazine and Jen sank lower and tried to become invisible. Jen gave Esosa a look that screamed “you didn’t say she would be coming” and he responded with a brow lift that implied it was her company and she did whatever she damn well pleased. Esosa stood to retrieve more paper work from his boss’s office, leaving the two women alone.
“I like your shoes” Jen said, when at loss always compliment
“Interesting outfit” Jummai replied placing her Anya Hindmarch metallic bag on the table
“That’s a strange compliment” Jen replied smiling awkwardly
“It wasn’t a compliment” Jummai responded
Jen’s eyes narrowed, she mumbled a word under her breath
“What?” Esosa asked behind her
“GLITCH” Jennifer said louder pretending to fiddle with her blackberry, she and Jummai knew she said something else
Jen busied herself at Imade’s desk on the internet while Esosa discussed progress and planned future meetings, Jen wondered how long she could hold out before subtly hinting that he never take another job from that family again. Jummai’s arm lingered on the same page with Esosa’s far longer than was necessary and Jen grit her teeth. She never asked if it went further than business in Abuja, a show of faith for his forgiveness about what happened with Kabir. It was in the past, for now they had each other. Needless to say a substantial amount of “glitches” escaped her lips and she furiously typed out her anger on Word, which is probably why she did not hear her name the first time, her ears tuned in when she heard Esosa proudly declare to Jummai that she was Junior Auditor at Holloway Grove.
Jummai froze, and asked for her last name, Esosa gave it. Jen watched all this happen in slow motion, frozen to her seat.
Jummai spun her head 360 degrees then and stared at Jennifer. Her eyes took in the cheap harlot that ruined her sister’s happiness; the poorly attired, crude, damp mess that Kabir chose over Halima. Jummai rose to her feet pointing in disbelief. Was this it? Her sister cried over this? The girl could see it, and she knew she had been discovered.
“Shegiya” she screamed at her
The girl remained seated as if transfixed by what was going on
“You are the lowest of the low, a bottom feeder” Jummai spoke. The girl did not respond
“Jummai! What is the reason for this” Esosa stood and walked to her, he was upset.
Jummai glanced at him “I never want to see her again” she spoke in her authoritative tone
“You have solicited my PROFESSIONAL loyalty only” Esosa responded in his
“It was a misunderstanding” Jen whispered “I did not know…”
“Jennifer what is going on?” Esosa was confused
“Remember my sister that wouldn’t speak?” Jummai spoke to Esosa “This little wench had been sleeping with her fiancé” she spat the words out
“If you worked for me I would have you fired and thrown back into the hole you crawled out of” Jummai snarled
Esosa said something about there being a mistake and Jummai should take note to mind her language when speaking to his girlfriend. Jen’s head was boiling, she owed Halima an explanation not this uptight matron plus she got the facts wrong.
“Speak to me in that manner one more time” Jen warned praying the posh prat would take the bait, any excuse to scratch that uppity aristocratic bull out of her eyes.
“Ai ba ki san ne ba” Jummai clicked her tongue “you do not know me at all”
“Jennifer did not do that” Esosa felt tensions rising
“Jennifer will DO anything” Jummai clipped the words
Jen leapt towards her the same time Esosa clamped down on her shoulders, restraining her attack “I think you should leave now” Esosa said sternly. Jummai delayed so Esosa repeated “it wasn’t a request”
“Sai ke zama Kishia ne?” Jummai gave a pitiful laugh
Jen knew kishia was used to refer to the second wife, as it came from the root word ‘kishi’ meaning ‘envy’. “I do not intend to marry Kabir” she stated for clarity
“Duk abubuwa da yay faruwa” Jummai stared down at her before realizing she was speaking in Hausa “after everything that’s happened… ” she began again then couldn’t be bothered to finish her sentence
Jummai made a graceful exit spewing a couple more choice words in Jen’s direction
“Insha Allah, for your sake I never see you again. Kinajina?” before climbing into her waiting BMW.
Esosa stood back from Jennifer and waited till she stopped glaring out the window at the departing car
“Is it true?”
“It was a long time ago Esosa, before I met you. It’s over” Jennifer stood to be near him
“You must think I’m a fool” Esosa said bitterly
“What?” Jen looked confused
“Kabir!” Esosa exclaimed. “It is always Kabir, it will always be Kabir”
“Esosa please don’t say that” Jen pleaded
“In Abuja by the pool and even after it was obvious we would get together you made out with him in the elevator”
“You said we could start over and move past that” Jennifer saw her whole life crash before her. This can’t be going this way…
“When I thought you were acting out your insecurities and projecting your need to create drama onto a random stranger” Esosa started shaking “he was nameless, faceless…but now I see it”
“Esosa please, it wasn’t like that”
“You loved him”
“No…” Jen lied to preserve her relationship
“I was there Jennifer. When you would sit staring into space, when you weren’t eating, I was on a desk next to yours when you were breaking it off with Kabir. You had a relationship with a husband”
“I didn’t know he was engaged” Jennifer was choking now, how could a mistake she made months ago before she even met Esosa, ruin her relationship with him
“I feel like I don’t even know you” Esosa sneered at her like she had morphed into something else
“I made a mistake, I’ve paid for it. Please don’t judge me; I have given myself a hard enough time”
“You made the mistake again, when you knew the cards on the table yet you kissed him”
The tone in Esosa’s voice was so angry, Jen started sobbing
“You never really forgave me, did you?” Jen questioned and Esosa looked at her with such malice
“You spoke about being with a Dansabe and I freaked out I thought she would seduce you away from me, so I-I went to Kabir so he could make me feel better a-about mys-self”
“You kissed him, and then you kissed me.” Esosa was full of spite and such intense dislike he wanted to grab Jen and shake her till her teeth fell out. And then he didn’t want to touch her, it wasn’t the same person he cuddled 40mins ago
“You can’t play around with feelings like that. People have emotions, but you don’t care Jen”
“No no I do care” Jen tried to reach out, Esosa jumped back like she was a leper
“Nobody can ever make you happy”
“You make me happy, Esosa please don’t do this”
“You knew I would want to know and chose not to tell me”
“It is history now” Jen’s eyes begged him to understand her need to put it all behind her
“You knew I would need to know. Did you think I would never find out? I work for the in-laws now for heaven sake. Yet you said nothing, left me looking like a fool”
“I thought you wouldn’t give me a chance if you knew”
“You were right. Show yourself out” Esosa returned to his desk
“What?” Jen hiccupped
“I won’t say it again as politely” Esosa spoke with steel, his right fist gripped his pencil so hard it was on the verge of snapping in two. Jen opened her mouth to speak but saw the disgust in Esosa’s eyes as he looked at her. She never felt so dirty, so unworthy. Jen walked to the exit, she turned with her hand on the handle, Esosa was already working and she walked out into the rain. Jen walked till she felt numb and then she hailed a taxi, when she got home she handed him soggy naira notes. Jen ran into her bathroom to cry her heart out over a man, for the second time that year.


The next couple of weeks were a blur of secret cries in the bathroom and over application of waterproof mascara. Jen felt physically sick and so mentally drained that work could not console her, because work reminded her of Esosa. There were no secret calls during the day, no texts, and no hugs. She thought of all the times she took those arms for granted, assuming they would always be there. She needed to confide in someone but she could not disclose all information without involving Kabir. He seemed to be hunting her from far away, having the last laugh, making her unhappy when all she searched for contentedness. She tried to speak with her mom, capitalizing on the numerous times she asked of Esosa but Jen could not say why he never picked up her phone calls, or replied her emails, because she was ashamed that he had every right to be repulsed by her. So to everyone’s knowledge, they were going through a rough patch. Meanwhile the side-effects were manifesting, Jen was losing weight, fatigued, and her complexion was pale and ashy. After fielding off questions of ill health she had taken to lying she had a terrible bout of malaria, the fact that everyone easily believed her was a testament to how bad a state she was in. There was no one she could turn to that would understand the guilt that came with cheating and the humiliation that she ruined a good thing single handedly, even when she had a chance to make things right she buried her head in the sand. Believing it could just go away and she could pretend it never happened, move on with living and loving, but now it seemed that Jen would always define herself by these parameters-a liar and a cheat- because she really believed in her heart that she would do no better than Esosa. Who else would put up with her? Understand her almost telepathically? Who else would make being together so easy?
No one had been through what she went through, no one could tell her it gets easier or how much harder to beg, when to know to stop begging and let go. No one
“I hear the Architects are setting up in the Hilton” Mariya spoke on the phone
Jen’s head jerked up, she barely noticed when Mariya was offered an account to spearhead, that must be what made her listen. But it wasn’t…there was someone who would understand. It was a case of swallowing her pride and asking for an ear to confide in, she had no one else. Mariya finished her conversation and turned to her computer just as Jen pushed back from her desk, roughly announcing she would be taking her overdue lunch accidentally knocking over a row of red and black HB pencils in her haste which Mariya intercepted before they hit the floor; she ignored Jen and carried on working, minding her business as usual.

4.00pm Wednesday eight floor Holloway Grove.
Jen walked towards Kabir’s desk, giving a forced smile and a wave to the lady in the polka dot dress, whose name she still didn’t know. Jen waited behind Kabir’s head nervously, and finally reached out and tapped his shoulder
“How are you?” she almost pulled that off, her voice didn’t sound ragged from crying
“I hear you have malaria” Kabir responded semi-friendly “or you’re pregnant”
“What? I am not pregnant. Where did you hear that?”
“Downstairs. Apparently you run to the bathroom often during the day, people say its morning sickness”
Jen sighed, she was tired.
“I know you’re not pregnant” Kabir said “and I also know you don’t have malaria”
Jen decided this was a bad idea and thanked Kabir for his time, as she walked to the elevator he came beside her silently “you wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important”
“I just need someone to talk to” Jen whispered
10minutes later in the cafeteria Jen sucked on a Ribena while Kabir studied her features like a doctor of tropical diseases. He used his thumb and forefinger to create a circumference around her skinny wrist and stared at her jutting clavicle, sunken cheekbones and limp hair.
“It’s not good Jen” he said delivering his prognosis
“I have a mirror” was her answer
“Great positive attitude” he congratulated her
“What can I say to improve morale?” Kabir asked
“Tell me how to get Esosa back” Kabir nearly laughed till he saw Jen was serious
“I can’t do that”
“Why not?” Jen’s voice rose causing her to choke on her drink. She coughed causing red liquid to splatter on the table and Kabir saw that unless Jen took better care of herself soon she would be coughing up blood not juice. He handed her his handkerchief and used a serviette to mop up the spill
“Why not?” Jen repeated “you could come with me and explain to him that it happened just once and its over”
“Because it was so horrible?” Kabir said with acid
Jen said nothing
“Esosa would bash my face in”
“That is the first time you’ve called his name” Jen smiled
Kabir rolled his eyes, “Jen you need to stop this”
“I want to. Tell me how”
“Accept that you’ve punished yourself enough. The longer you mourn does not necessarily equate the importance of the relationship”
Jen shook her head, “you mourned Halima and I mourned you”
“But all that was positive energy. It made me re-think my priorities and it made you a better auditor.” Kabir took Jen’s hand “this right now is self-destructive, it’s affecting your work, your friendships and your health”
Jen started to sob quietly, she cried so often she no longer knew how to control the tears.
“Deep down you never forgave yourself for what happened, but you need to understand that the chain of events have run their course” Kabir looked at her till she raised her head and pointed at himself “some of us are better people for it”
“I hurt Esosa”
“You need to respect his decision”
“Did you respect Halima’s?”
“I didn’t have a chance to contest, she skipped town on me” Jen laughed
“Because I loved her I gave her what she needed to move on and learnt from my mistake”
“Do you still love her?”
“I think I always will in some way but for now I have a little crush on you”
“Kabir…” Jen started…
“I know. Just let it run its course” Kabir replied a little sadly patting her hand
Jen shifted uncomfortably in her seat
“This isn’t easy for me Jen” Kabir confessed “but I am going to try to be there for you. Like you were for me”
“Ok” Jen smiled
“Just don’t try to kiss me again” Kabir warned
“Scouts honor” she laughed, up till then her throat had forgotten the sound
As Jen goaded herself into ordering boiled plantain from the lunch lady, she turned to Kabir “I will always be attracted to you”
He rose his gaze from the serving trays and met hers
“It’s because you’re gorgeous. No deeper meaning other than that. Even now, I’m thinking you should always leave your hair this way, and if your lips got any pinker you’d be modeling lipstick”
Kabir leaned on the serving tray and laughed, he laughed for a full minute, his body doubled over from the force of it. After gathering his composure he placed a hand on her bony shoulder “that is the Jennifer I know and love. Welcome back”
“You just like the compliments”
“I never denied that” he chuckled

Returning to her office to pack up her things, Jen sat down to compose a goodbye email to Esosa, she apologized once more, said she was through punishing herself but respected his decision if he couldn’t get past what occurred between her and Kabir and wished him the best, she shed her last tear and closed that chapter.
The next day Jen fully utilized the mirror she boasted about before getting dressed for work, she bought enough fruits to start a Caribbean Island and two bottles of Ragolis spring water, promising to devour it all before lunch. She stopped to chat with Musa and told him she was feeling better, admired the glass sculpture in the lobby and bid Shaw good morning. By midday it was clear Jen was back and everyone flocked to her table to chat, she visited the HR ladies “Una dey say I get belle abi?” she laughed with Temi and Tolu, lifting up her shirt so they could count her ribs, as they piled her with sweets and miniature Mars bars, Sandra bore no malice and filled her in on the debut of her play, she and Kabir tried to rebuild a friendship. Things were slowly normalizing. Most importantly, her heart stopped skipping when she heard Dansabe.


6.00pm Saturday evening Off Fatai Arobieke Street Lekki Phase I.
Accountant Olusola Adebayo strode out of his brownstone exquisite detached duplex. There was to be a meeting in the Flamingo restaurant and he knew if he got there late, he’d have to buy the first round of drinks. Everyone goes heavy on their first drink; he was no fool. He walked towards his Range Rover Sport 5.0 V8 and in the fading light of dusk, admired the gleam of the chrome exhaust. Once he got in Adebayo followed protocol and stroked the contrast stitching on the cream leather seats. He loved this car; if it turned into a person he would leave his three daughters and wife of 13years for it. They all knew not to touch Daddy’s car, the wife could get him to run any errand if she suggested driving the car herself. Nobody touches his baby and he told anyone who would listen how much she cost, he earned every dime of the £62,000 he lavished on her, more if you count the trimmings he included. Adebayo was not born into abject poverty but his family struggled to get by when he was younger, and the presence of Jam or Peak milk heavily depended on what fares his dad, a long haul truck driver brought home. Adebayo was always obsessed with money, and told anyone of the boys in his family’s cramped apartment building that he would succeed. Everyone dubbed him accountant and from then the profession was born; the only one who laughed at him was Bisi, the young, voluptuous server at the Mama Put next to the local tax collectors’ office where he had his first job. She would hiss and sneer at his big dreams as he boasted over Gulder with his workmates; she laughed at his monkey suits and made fun of his English. Naturally he fell in love with her, and still equates courting her to being the hardest, most exhausting negotiation he has ever been involved in. It still makes her blush; as he pulled out of the driveway she rushed to his side
“Boo” she frightened him, knowing he scared easy
“Bisi I’ve warned you about this your behaviour. What if I crashed the car?”
She shrugged at his remarks; his tone never worried her, right from the first day they met
“What time will you and your girlfriend be coming back?” she nodded to his car
“Possibly midnight”
“I want ice cream from Elmo’s” she pouted the way she did whenever she wanted her way
“Of course” he replied, hasty to get a move on
His wife thought about stalling in order to get what she wanted. She knew he was in a hurry and this made him very malleable. He would agree to anything so he could be on his way. She watched him stare at the speedometer and frown, she giggled and decided to let her big baby go for now.
“Oya drive safely” she pulled his nose
“Eh before you go, what flavour do you want?”
“Ah ah my favourite now” and she skipped back to the house, knowing he would forget and have to call their eldest to remind him.
Adebayo drove away and thought about how he always made well on his promises, even if it took forever and a day. An example would be his assistant Esosa, he was a hard worker and had the leadership skills, it was time he was given a role with more responsibility. It did not matter the bonuses he was paid, his title still read “Junior Account Manager”. The only problem was Adebayo was spoilt, and had gotten used to having his work done for him. He could decide not to show up to work for a week and not have to worry about mismanagement. It was time to make things right. Adebayo stopped at a red light and remembered the first big account Esosa closed, he had promised Esosa that if he kept it up he would be manager in a year. Well, it had been considerably longer than that and Adebayo was surprised Esosa didn’t hit him or quit, but he was loyal to the company, another commendable quality. Adebayo took the express and decided to branch at Elmo’s first, and tip the head waiter in Flamingo to store the ice cream in their freezer, that way he won’t have to double back on his way home. At the store, his daughter teased over the phone and reminded him the flavour was strawberry, promising to keep mute about it if she got one as well, he agreed to the bribe and at the last minute decided to get some for his two youngest as well. Women! They learn to sulk from a young age.
Adebayo could not know as he turned his car out of Adeslo Odeku Street, he would be rammed in from the left side by a long haul timber truck driver asleep at the wheel. The force would send the Range Rover speeding forward till it smashed into a light pole propelling the ice cream in the backseat onto the headrest, smearing the windscreen. Before Adebayo lost consciousness he saw his wife’s pout and slid quietly into blackness.

5.00am Sunday morning Esosa Oyakilhome dialled the only digits his numb fingers could, for minutes after the ring is answered he would breathe heavily on the line, trying to find the words, finally
“Mr. Adebayo died this evening”
“I’m so sorry” Jennifer responded
“Please stay on the line”
“Of course”

10.00am Monday morning Ebony Funeral Services 7 Igbosere road Lagos.
Jennifer scouted the sea of black in the room for Esosa and saw him hovering over the stout Mrs. Adebayo as she sat staring into space clutching her three year old. He placed a gentle arm on her back and whispered in her ear, she turned to face him, the only person she had made eye contact with all morning. She angled her face to show her watery smile and buried her head in the neck of her baby, sobbing silently. Kabir stood in a huddle of his colleagues, they had all built a home for the deceased and they dragged up fond memories and outrageous demands he made during the sketch phases. Toasting to his good name, and saying a prayer for his spirit. Mrs. Shaw looked around lost, trying in vain to put up a brave face, she was very close to Adebayo and over the years they had thrown each other business, her husband held her hand tight. Imade, Sandra, Meg and all others were sitting on plastic chairs outside, as the caterers served food under dusty party tents, in colours too bright for this solemn occasion. The music was loud and distant relatives celebrated his life and mourned his memory in equal measure with outbursts of tears and dancing. Although he died young, he achieved greatness they recited over and over again. It was a mellow affair, and Jennifer felt angry at herself for ever thinking horrible thoughts towards this man, seeing blown up pictures of his portraits adorned with plastic flowers hung on every wall. Jen did not like funerals and had been fortunate to have been to very few that held emotional value, but she came today because Esosa asked her to, because in between bouts of sobbing she could not refuse him. So now she hung back and watched him make the rounds, a little girl squealed as Esosa threw her in the air, she had spent countless after school hours in the office and the two had developed a rapport. “Funky baby” he teased, “My name is Funke” she replied adamantly with her hands akimbo, he lifted her in the air again and on it went. Jennifer strolled to Kabir’s elbow, he stepped back to allow her into the fold, Jen thought of how accepting his friends had been of her recent friendship with him, giving how much they all adored Halima. Guys have shorter memories than girls, Femi and the rest nodded in her direction and she smiled back. Esosa came to her “Can I borrow you?”
“How are you holding up?” Jen stroked his forearm
“Well. Thank you for coming, I know you hate funerals”
“I didn’t say that”
Esosa gave her a look and for a moment they were together again.
“I want to apologise for my cold front these past weeks. I was just blowing off steam, you know that right?”
“Well it’s all in the past” Jen responded waving it off
“Is it?” Esosa asked. Jen went silent
“Jennifer...”
“Is this the time or place?” Jen hardened her tone
“But I don’t want you thinking I called because I wanted a date to the wake keeping” Esosa angled her so she would see he was being sincere.
“It doesn’t matter either way” Jen answered people watching
“Jennifer don’t shut me down. I sent you an email on Saturday, midday when I knew you would be busy, too busy to reply right away. I didn’t know what your reply would be and I wanted to stall it”
“Coward”
“A very big one. Please just check the timeline, you’ll see”
“I’ll do that when I get home”
Esosa stared at her “You didn’t receive it and yet you picked up my call at 5 in the morning. After the way I left things with you”
“You needed me” Jen answered like he was stupid if he did not know by now that she would always come running. Always. Esosa stroked her hair from root to tip in one slow motion, that gesture spoke millions. He held her hand in his car on the drive back to her house, squeezing tight.

A month later Esosa was promoted to Senior Management, the promotion coupled with the glowing recommendations garnered from previous assignments fast tracked him to a position that required his expertise.
“Dubai?” Jen couldn’t believe her ears
“Yes I know” Esosa replied solemnly
“Why you?” Jen hadn’t blinked in 20seconds
“Because I have the most experience with the Etisalat Easy Starter Pack and four months ago I found a way to save them money”
“But that means you’ll be in Dubai” Jen repeated
“I know” Esosa sighed “look we don’t have to discuss it now, it’s Date Night” he poured more wine into her glass
“There’s nothing to discuss” Jen stated “You’re going”
“What? I don’t want to go” Esosa said convincingly
“It’s an amazing opportunity Esosa. You will be doing what you love and implementing changes at the start. Your name will be on the credits, achievement for your work” Jen was serious
“I can’t leave you. I won’t” Esosa said with finality
“It’s bigger than me” Jen spoke quietly
“Nothing is.”
Jen held his hand, stroked the calluses “you are allowed to bring your family, four dependents, it is the condition of your contract”
Esosa pulled his arm away and pushed his chair back
“Your mom, Osaze, your two younger sisters” Jen’s voice imprinted the image
“Why are you doing this?” Esosa asked painfully “you want me to go?”
“How can you even say that...?” Jen held back tears “I want you to succeed and take care of your family the way you dreamed. I couldn’t live with myself if I held you back”
Esosa looked at Jen like she was poisoning him, why was she saying this?
“It is your destiny”
“Come with me” Esosa begged
“You know I can’t do that” Jen answered softly
Esosa knelt by her side and kissed her, like it was the last time. Although he had three weeks left to pack up his life into labelled cardboard boxes, three weeks to put up his house and car for sale; he kissed her hard and soft, sweet and slow. On that night, with the starry sky above them, Esosa made love to Jennifer in his bed etching her scent into his memory, caressing her curves into his conscious, massaging her into make belief and when they were spent he held her in his arms so tight she bruised the next day. In the light of morning as the sun peeked through the gaps in his wooden shutters Esosa sat up and stared at the girl that was letting him go. He traced the hollow in the small of her back where he loved to rest his hand when they slow danced. He traced the dimples at the base of her shoulder blades where he planted his thumbs whenever he lifted her into his arms. He traced the back of her knees remembering how they could wrap around him and grip...Jen stirred in her sleep turning her head in his direction and Esosa bent to kiss her lashes, and then rested his cheek upon hers, a single tear escaped and slid down.

The afternoon of Esosa’s departure Jennifer couldn’t bring herself to the airport, she stayed at home watching the thunderstorm. With each crack of thunder and flash of lightning Jen startled and brought her knees closer to her chest. The rain pounded against her window, the wind gusted past her curtains and the ginger tea at her side cooled. In one breathe she was praying for the destruction of the airplane so it be deemed unfit for travel for the next twenty years and in the next breath telling God she always knew Esosa was destined for greater things and asking that He bless his journey. Esosa did not send a goodbye text, she had instructed him as much. What else was there to be said? Words on a screen could not say what his touch had, console the way his arms could, it did not smell like him. And at the precise moment the plane took off Jen felt her heart break distinctly in half.



A lot can happen in six years and although the asphalt streets in front of Holloway Grove remain the same, the people who live within its walls altered and matured. Many no longer worked there, most had bigger offices, and others had even bigger families. It was all shades of laughter and wine and music as all good memories are: there was laughter at Sandra’s first play in the National Theatre and wine at her first Nollywood feature length premiere as Jen and her fellow co workers were treated to executive seats watching their friend play a recovering alcoholic. There was dance at Meg’s wedding in Muson Centre; Mrs. Shaw and her employees grooved till the early hours of the morning when they bid the newlyweds safe trip to Hawaii for their honeymoon. There was more dancing at Musa’s retirement party; he returned to his native state of Nasarawa still without a wrinkle visible to the naked eye. Blushed at all the attention he received, the presents that crowded the bus the company rented for his journey and still did not seem to grasp what an impact he had on the people working in Holloway. There was wine at Mariya’s promotion party; she was elected head of the newest branch of Prada & Co auditing firm situated in Accra, Ghana. There was wine and shisha at the Moroccan restaurant; Kabir bashfully whispered to Jen he had fallen in love with Sa’ada; the beautiful, dimpled humanitarian that worked for Amnesty International, the headquarters which Kabir’s team helped build. There was laughter on the eighth floor; Alaye had begun dating Rita, Femi swore to remain an eternal bachelor.
The HR ladies remained unchanging like the sculpture in the lobby, the air conditioners continuously kept the offices very chilled, coffee machines remained the first thing switched on each morning and the new receptionist preferred Genevieve magazines to True Love. Everything had changed and nothing had changed.



Jennifer Ovbiagele was Mrs. Shaw’s right hand and learnt eagerly from her mentor aware she was being groomed to take the reins sometime in the future. The date was uncertain and Jen was in no hurry, for she was enjoying her life. She had loved and lost, healed two broken hearts, become a Godmother and made peace with the fact that she could never love as much as she once loved another; grateful only that she had a chance to experience the joy of a soul mate. There was no rush to fast-forward, for now she was appreciating the present.Jennifer Ovbiagele however did not know that next week Friday, on a dusty Harmattan afternoon as she sits on her desk swinging her legs and organising Meg’s baby shower. Esosa Oyakilhome clad in a charcoal grey double breasted suit, dark red silk tie, and shiny cufflinks, would march up to her desk, inform her he had returned to Lagos and ask her once again to be his girlfriend.

Enjoy

By S.B

Our Parents Lied to Us......

Heyy blogsville,

I know I have been m.i.a but I have been busy because I recently started a job in a market research company. It is easy, I'm quite good at it and my supervisor seems to like me, but it is not a graduate postion, monotonous and is completely unfufilling. I am still searching for a better position, but I know the stress I went through before I got this one, so I am not planning on leaving until I get a better role.

But everyday as I watch the clock at work, hoping 5 comes faster and scribbling on my note-pad, its really got me thinking......damn our parents lied to us!

They told us that all you have to do work hard, and everything will work out as you hope. NA LIE OH! Hardwork seldom leads to success, infact they are usually unrelated. We all know loads of people that work thier ass off or are mega-talented but are stuck in a dead-end job, or are going no where fast, just look at the typical hardworking driver, carpenter, labourer or etc stuck in thier dead end job just to eat and to pay the bills. Infact in reality, i would estimate that 70% people are unhappy with thier job. Does anyone really dream as a child of working in Mcdonalds, Greggs, KFC or Primark frying chips or stacking clothes all day? I think not.

You see, as a child, I was made to believe that hardwork in school was somehow related to success in real life, so my parents encouraging me to work hard in school was supposed to be grooming me for success in real life. As I was going through university as well, I never once thought about my career or where I wanted to work. If I had, in retrospect, I would have applied for summer placements and internships in big law firms as they tend to retain trainees for graduate applications. Although I did several internships in uni, they were with small and medium sized law firms who are too poor to retain graduates. I would encourage anyone who is still in uni to do as many internships in large law firms as possible. I also wish they were more readily available like in the U.S but that is another story for another day.

Anyway, the workload at university is so much that you are just trying to get from one year to another and pass the million one assesments and essays that you are given, that career planning only starts to cross you mind in final year, by which time you are stressing about final exams and trying to decide which direction you are going, or for us international students, whether you are relocating back home.

By the tine you have sorted all this out, its wayyyy too late to be getting into any career as most big companies usually recruit a year in advance, and usually recruit their interns. This may also not be as easy as it looks, as I have two friends who interned and did not get one retained, one at Deutshe Bank in New York but unfortunately for him he was there at the start of the recession and they were "downsizing"-whatever that means, hence the role of LUCK again.

I wish my parents had been more realistic with me about the reality of working life, as it has hit me like cold water on a winter day. Damn it is hard. The older I get, the younger I want to be, as no one can prepare you for the reality of leaving school!

In Nigeria, you hear of people graduating for years without jobs, but I never imagined it could be the case here as well. Maybe because in Nig, you know that alot of jobs are not based on merits so maybe you can take consolation in the fact that everything is based on connection. This is another example of something whose importance is not stressed. A number of my friends have moved back home and they keep re-enforcing the need to make connections and network with people that will take you places.

So my rationale is that if you are unemployed back home, it could be purely due to the fact that you dont know the right people, not that you unqualifies. In contrast, here, if you are unemployed, it is usually due to the fact that you are not good enough, full stop. And damn it hurts! Everytime you open that rejection e-mail, it makes it so much harder to do another application. After a while, it really starts to knock you down, but you just have to get right back up and apply again, and again, and again.

You see, alot of us leave uni, completely clueless as to what direction we want to go in life, at least most of my friends did. As Nigerians, our parents are so caught up instilling the importance and value of education in us, that we loose sight of the possiblilty of exploring any other options. I know so many people that studied degrees that they have absolutely no interest in, and thereby stifile any interests or talents they have in other fields, and end up being stuck in dead-end jobs they hate. Looking at some of the most successful people in the world, Bill Gates, Mark Zukerberg, Richard Branson, Donald Trump, and even Dangote, it is clear that success does not necessarily need education.

I guess the point of this very long post is that I , like most of the young people around me feel very disillusioned with life after uni. I just wish our parents hadn't made us believe that success in life after university was dependent on hardwork.............

xoxo

Miss B

The Danger of the Single Story.....

OK so this post is another ode to the greatness that is Adichie. Chimamanda, if you ever come across this blog, please know that I am not a crazy obsessed fan. I have not read your books over and over and do not argue about which minute little detail shows you ingenuity with S.B, and I have not watched this talk 5 times......no really, I am not a stalker!

The delivary of this speech is so gracious and she articulates herself with such poise that her message comes across perfectly. I love the way she does not try any kind of phone sturvs which is so easy to do when you are confronted by foreigners, she speaks effortlessly like a true Nigerian.

The danger of a single story she says, is not that it is inacurate but that it is incomplete. She starts with the story of her houseboy Fide, who as a child she had labelled as being poor and nothing else. Upon discovering that his family were talented weavemakers, she seems shocked that they could be something so much more than the tag "poverty". This is a single story. And this is something that we all do in someway or the other. Stereotypes are usually formed for a reason, but they represent just a part of that people and when we forget this, then we have a problem.

Although she focuses on the danger of a single story globally, I think it is just as relevant in Nigeria because of our diversity. In Nigeria for example, we say that Yorubas are loud and party-lovers, Igbos are greedy and traders and hausa people are lazy and uneducated. Now this may be true to some extent but it is incomplete. .

I live in the North, and I am usually shocked by the ignorance of Southerners and Lagosians about life in the North. People have asked me the strangest questions like isnt there sharia there? are there any clubs or bars? how can you live there if you cannot speak hausa? so you guys have dstv in the north? i didnt know kaduna had an international airport? isnt everyone there a muslim? i didnt know hausa people were rich too? They are surprised to find that Northerners have more distinct tribes than any other reigion of Nigeria, and the Fulanis, Gwari, Boko, Ataka and Barke tribes to name a few are not hausa.

This is the single story of the north. It is only when you come abroad that we all claim to be Nigerians. Once you are in Nigeria, we all identify with sub-cultural and religious groups and reigions and have a single story of all the other reigions. I have been blessed to know both the North and the South-western parts of Nigeria well, but upon coming to the U.K I have had the chance to meet alot of people from the South-south and Eastern part of Nigeria. I then realised that I also had a single story for them as well. I thought it was just divided into Igbos and non Igbos, who were insignificant tribes, but I was soo mistaken. I now have friends who are Urobos, Delta-Igbos, Calabar, Edo, Andoni, Ibibio, Ijaw, Igbira to name a few and are just as proud as any majority tribe. My single story was that everyone from that reigion was igbo, and therefore a trader, loves money, loved rituals, were catholic and usually uneducated.(I must add that Nollywood playes a BIG part in forming these steryotypes).

It sounds terrible now, but alot of Nigerians still think like this. You see as much as Nigerians travel all over the world, we do not explore our own country. I am ashamed to say I have only been to 6 states out of a possible 36(kaduna, Lagos, Jos, Kano, Ibadan, Kwara). But the majority of city Nigerians have only been to 2, their village and Lagos/Abuja/Port-Harcourt. I must say that Lagosians are paticularly terrible with this, as they feel like life begins and ends in Lagos.

But a number of my northern classmates had also never left the north and had a single story of Lagos/the south of being a crime ridden, immoral, traffic jammed jungle (which is not far from the truth lol). They also see the south-south as a place over-flowing with oil, oil-money, kidnappers, and shell workers.

You see Chimamanda brings to light the fact that you cannot engage properly with a person or a place without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person. The single story robbs people of their dignity because it focuses on how we are different as opposed to how we are similar. According to Achebe we need a "balance of stories".

A typical example is to think of the first 3 words you think of when you think of Iraq. For most people in the western world, and average Nigerians, it is War, Oil and Islam. But have we ever stopped to think about the millions of Iraqis that are just living their lives, waking up in the morning to go to work, or the market or kids going to school. We have a single story of Iraq gotten from CNN. The first time I went to America when I was 13, I was schocked to find that not all the black people were wearing chains, rapping or playing basketball with 5 baby mamas. I had a single story of black america gotten from MTV.

I have a friend who studied in Russia, and I was shocked to hear the stories he had about the everyday Russians. Yes they are some racists and nazis but mostly they are nice and respectful people. I had a single story of Russia gotten from their History.

She concludes that when we reject the single story and realise that there is never one, we regain a kind of paradise. Think about it!

Enjoy

Miss B

Book Review:The thing around your neck

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen of the blog world, and welcome to my second book review for naija daydreamer. Please keep the applause down its making me blush. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin:

The Thing Around Your Neck
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

“Our men like to keep us here. She had told Nkem. They visit for business and vacations, they leave us and the children with big houses and cars, they get us housegirls from Nigeria who we don’t have to pay any outrageous American wages, and they say business is better in Nigeria and all that. But you know why they won’t move here, even if business were better here? Because America does not recognize Big Men. Nobody says ‘Sir! Sir!’ to them in America. Nobody rushes to dust their seats before they sit down.”- Excerpt from the story, Imitation in “The Thing Around Your Neck”

Allow me to introduce a writer who needs no introduction, corny but true. Adichie burst onto the literary scene with her debut novel Purple Hibiscus (the coming-of-age story of a young girl who lives under the shadow of her fanatically religious father) winner of the Commonwealth Writers Prize was hailed by the Baltimore Sun as “one of the best novels to come out of Africa in years” by the Boston Globe “prose as lush as the Nigerian landscape it powerfully evokes”…yes it is THAT good.
Chimamanda certainly did not disappoint as she responded three years later with her second novel the widely acclaimed, instant classic, Orange Prize-winning and may-I-write-like-that-someday Half of a Yellow Sun. With two novels in the bag she was crowned “the twenty-first-century daughter of Chinua Achebe” by the Washington Post. We do not need to explain what a crowning glory that is as Things Fall Apart is on the BBC list of books to read before you die. This 32 year old author has been described by HER favorite author as “having the gift of ancient storytellers”

With all this praise heaped upon her, her third novel was always going to be tricky. The critics have fallen in love with her graceful storytelling and character insight. The Thing Around Your Neck is a volume of twelve short stories which explore the collision of the Nigerian and American cultures and the lead characters as they try to reconcile them. Majority of her narrators are young and female.

The title story exemplifies her prevailing theme of homesickness. Turning it almost into a physical illness, “At night, something would wrap itself around your neck, something that very nearly choked you before you fell asleep.” it is here that the Thing Around Your Neck is shown as choking loneliness that renders you silent and invisible, not jewellery for your throat…like I originally thought.

Being narrated in the second person makes the story poignant, heart-wrenching in its sorrow and longing, the use of “You” instead of “she” makes the story personal. The unnamed 22-year-old narrator gains a longed-for American visa and goes to live with her uncle’s family in Maine. “They spoke Igbo and ate garri for lunch and it was like home,” recalls the girl, “until your uncle came into the cramped basement where you slept and pulled you forcefully to him, squeezing your buttocks, moaning… And you remembered what he said, that America was give-and-take.” As a result she has a hard time believing in the sincerity of a young white man's affection for her, looking for any signs of a condescending or patronizing attitude.

In “Cell One” the first story in the book, Adichie will refer to the coming-of-age story telling that she adopted for Kambili in Purple Hibiscus and you feel the exasperation of the young girl towards her older charming brother, as he is spoilt by his mother until he experiences a life changing situation.
“It was as if he had been suddenly been to see that the Incredible Hulk was really just green paint”

In “Imitation” a young mother finds her comfortable life threatened when she learns that her husband back at in Lagos has moved his mistress into their home. She can only confide in her housegirl “the madam/housegirl line has blurred in the years that she has had Amaechi. It is what America does to you, she thinks. It forces egalitarianism on you. You have nobody to talk to, really except for your toddlers, so you turn to your housegirl. And before you know it, she is your friend. Your equal. ”

In “A Private Experience” a medical student hides from a violent riot with a poor Muslim woman whose dignity and faith force her to confront the realities and fears she’s been pushing away. There is an instance when the older Muslim woman prays for Chika the protagonist of the story, “Allah keep your sister and Halima in a safe place,” Chika will nod in response because even with her foreign influence and exposure she was unsure of what Muslims say to show agreement, certain only that it wasn’t “Amen”.

In "Jumping Monkey Hill," a Nigerian novelist attends a writer's workshop given by an eminent, white, British scholar, where they each are to write and present a story. The scholar turns out to be the type who knows more about Africa than Africans- or he would like to think. He criticizes one person's work because stories about homosexuals coming out to their families aren't representative of "the real" Africa. This has been reported as being the most autobiographical of all the author’s stories.

The last story “Headstrong Historian” is my absolute favorite. A masterpiece, the greatest short story ever told. Infact my major compliant is that it was not drawn out to blossom into a full novel, it certainly has the potential. It is pure genius, for the entire duration you are left just in awe of how the author zips between timelines and locations all the while never compromising on dialogue or scenery. It is a melting pot of colonialism, Western education and Christianity in a tiny Igbo village as narrated by Nwamgba. This lady has to be amongst my top 5 heroines of ALL time.
Her wit, self-belief, survival instinct, stubbornness, and fierce protection of her family are traits to pray for. She fell in love with her husband at first sight and never stopped loving him. She pushes her son to learn to read so when the time came he could defend his inheritance from his leech uncles. As Anikwenwa drifts further away condemning her nakedness and refusal to eat her food, she wonders if “she meddled with his destiny” A love story in reverse, Nwamgba passes on her knowledge of her world to her granddaughter, the only family member eager to learn clay pottery and poetry that involved the traditional call and response.


Adichie’s gift is her ability to manipulate language almost invisibly and with deceptively effortless grace she moves between Igbo and English. Her stories are also immediately intimate, absorbing you into their imagined world because she inspires the readers’ confidence with only a few sentences.
Although some of these stories, feature women in circumstances that cry "victim", none of the women are drawn as such. They might have to do things they don't like, or compromise about certain things, but so does everybody else. Not once do you ever get the feeling that any of Adichie's characters have been created as deliberate objects of sympathy. What's even more refreshing is that her characters are neither victims nor super heroes. They are humans dealing with situations that come up in their lives just like we all have to. In circumstances we can identify with and emotions we can experience.
If there are flaws in the collection they are minor faults of structure – a couple of stories simply stop, rather than reaching a conclusion, while the compression of the final narrative, “The Headstrong Historian”, is so intense that it feels as though it should have been allowed to blossom into something longer.

Purple Hibiscus was about freedom, and the blurred line between childhood and adulthood; Half of a Yellow Sun was about moral responsibility, love and betrayal during the Biafran war; The Thing Around Your Neck is all these and more. Chimamanda Adichie produced a melting pot of stories and a work of genius. The sort of book that I am positive will make more sense and increase in depth the more times I read it. That is timeless art.
Available at the one and only Amazon,




Enjoy

By S.B

Questions.....

Heyy blogsville,
Thanks so much for your love on the car situation. I am still trying to sort it all out and will keep you posted. Anyway I have a question for you that I spent hours and hours debating with various people and I would really like to get your opinion on it!
This is an imaginary scenario but could so easily be real.

A guy is in love with a girl and declares genuine love for her, but she rejects him over and over. For some reason she is then unable to to pay her fees and begs him to give her the money because there is NO ONE else she can go to that can afford it. He then tells her that he will only give her the money if she agrees to sleep with him. After she exhausts all other means, she agrees to do this as the last resort. So she sleeps with him, and he gives her the money.

Does he have the right to call her a whore/gold-digger/slag???

In my survey, 70% said yes because irrespective of the difficult situation, the bottomline is that she slept with him for money. While I respect this view, I think every situation always determines the tag you put on it.

Personally, I think he doesnt have the right because he has manipulated her into getting a part of her because he would not otherwise have gotten. This, to me, means he no longer has the right to call her names. For the fact that he was willing to offer her the money only under this condition, he looses the right to look down on her as a gold-digger.

This scenario goes back to my previous post. Although this is more complicated because feelings are involved, I believe that once you are doing something immoral, you do not have the right to call the other participant names, unless you are willing to admit your flaws too.
Majority of people seem to believe that since he has declared feelings for her and she has refused, the fact that she could accept money from him means she is a gold-digger/shallams.

Do you guys agree with me or go with the majority view??


xoxo
Miss B

The Car Incident

I AM IN DEEP SHIT! I bashed my friend's car into a wall last night while trying to park. Its a peugot 206 convertable and so the damage to the front was quite bad! I am so pissed off at myself because I knew I should NOTA have been driving a manual car as I have not driven one in over a year. Plus, I am terrible with tight spaces, and this has happened before. In Nigeria while trying to park my mum's car, I scratched it against iron rims, and had to get it resprayed out of my own pocket, but things in Nigeria are cheap so I could afford it without anyone finding out.

Here in the wonderful U.K on the other hand, I have to cough up £450!!!!!! Just to fix the front bumper and re-shape the dent!!! If it was in Naija I know it would not have been more than 10k.

Now the twist in the gist is that the guy does not have insurance!!! If you are not living in jand, let me tell you all that driving without insurance is a SERIOUS offence! To top it up, I do not have a full license, the guy was not qualified to be in the car with me, and we did not have a learner sign so if the accident had happened on the road or God forbid with someone else's car, my life would have been over!! That is bye-bye to me practising law because I would have a criminal record. GOD FORBID! I am just grateful that it was not the worst case scenario.

But at the same time, where or how will i cough up that kind of money??? Even strip clubs are not recruiting at the moment because their main clients(bankers and finance people) have been affected by the recession!! I am unemployed, broke, and can never tell my parents.

The most painful part is that I am pissed off at myself. Why the hell did I drive that car???Who sent me??

I am screwed!!

xoxo

Miss B

Cash or Credit 8.........

Cash or Credit 7 can be found HERE!

4.00pm Monday afternoon

Holloway Grove Victoria Island.

Kabir Tijani sat at his work desk on the eighth floor eating left over Sallah meat from a large plastic bowl that held braided intestines, shaki, roundabout and cubed pieces of yam floating on a broth of hot pepper soup. A smaller bowl held fried peppered meat and kilishi on a bed of lettuce that Kabir would ignore. Kabir unearthed the plastic spoon from its tissue wrapping, lifted the pieces in large chunks and chewed loudly completely enjoying the silence that came from having the office all to himself. The Eid celebration had mandated a public holiday leaving the entire office complex devoid of noise; the numbers on the elevator did not light up, the air conditioners were switched off and the coffee machine lay empty. Kabir had come here on a whim, his house held too many memories of Halima kneeling before him, of uncles enquiring and aunties scolding. So this morning when he woke up in the loud silence of his house in Ikoyi he grabbed the car keys, left-over bowls of meat in his fridge dropped off by well-wishers during Sallah visits the day before and sped on the empty motor ways till he got here. He sat reclined in the executive chair with his feet on his desk, in his blue kaftan and for once Kabir’s head was empty, his mind was quiet like it too was exhausted with the mere thought of what a horrible person he was. It appeared his brain had re-learnt had to switch off.

Kabir had come to a nasty conclusion; he wasn’t a nice person. He either showered those he loved with attention or paid none at all. He was also painfully aware that this was a major deciding factor in Jen’s dislike of him. It should come as no surprise; he expected this, she told him severally to smile at the gateman, say “Thank You” when Sandra wheeled a lunch trolley up, but he didn’t listen, so wrapped up in everything she said he was ‘Gorgeous, Brilliant and Charming.’ Bah! Well beauty really is in the eye of the beholder isn’t it? She didn’t think he was any of these things anymore did she? He deserved it, this lack of acknowledgement Jen dished out. Maybe he was destined to mess it all up from the beginning. Kabir didn’t believe in destiny- Halima did- she always said they were meant to be together, always read out their horoscopes pretending not to care what it said but he knew she loved all that- the charmed existence she wanted them to live. Halima was born into privilege but Kabir knew she would have shacked up in a garage with him if he told her their love would convert it to a cozy cottage. She believed love was magic. That naivety was to be protected, but what did he do? Turn her into another “Men are Dogs” campaigner – like the world needed anymore men haters. Kabir felt sorry for the next man that would attempt to love Halima, he would surely pay for crimes he did not commit.

No matter his current melancholic state the point remained that Allah had provided him with two wonderful women and he managed to screw it up. There were people who prayed for the devotion Halima showed him and the passion Jen ignited in him. He was stupid in thinking his love was prize enough for these women. The wings of the Dark Angel have been clipped off and Kabir tasted humility, it wasn’t a taste he was accustomed to. You don’t have to believe in much to realize you have made a mess of things, when meekness stops you from asking for a second chance because you know you don’t deserve it. Kabir however knew that Allah was Beneficent and he believed that if he proved himself, took what he had learnt and implemented it in his daily life, he will once again be blessed with an encounter with someone he could love. For all his bravado, Kabir didn’t do well on his own and only shone bright on the arm of someone loving him. Mutual love is what made his eyes sparkle, his mojo has been taken away.

So that was his new-year resolution in advance, but for now on this hot afternoon, he would just enjoy not hating himself. Kabir turned on the plastic fan Femi bought on his first day at the office thinking he would need it. Kabir switched it on and angled the blades towards him, the fan whirred nosily and leaning forward Kabir cupped the plastic bowl in his palms, raised to his lips and drank the soup, the hot peppers burnt the back of his throat and he immediately cooled off with large chilled gulps of Maltina from the miniature ice cooler he had packed last minute as he heated up the pepper soup in his microwave. The old Kabir would have marveled at his sheer brilliance in effectively executing this impromptu meal by remembering to pack drinks; the new Kabir was just glad he had his appetite back.

Jennifer Ovbiagele walked past the glass sculpture in the lobby, swiping her card at the elevator. Her reflection in the mirror looked almost confused at her state. ‘Is this well-dressed corporate Jen?’ It seemed to ask and Jen scowled at her casual look today. Black sandals, skinny jeans and a white tank top, her hair was in a rough ponytail, her nails without varnish and she wore no jewelry. She could be forgiven, she knew the office would be empty and she wanted to get some work done. The week gone had been her most unproductive till date, including the Friday she strolled in late after spending the night at Esosa’s- luckily for her barely anyone made it in due to the heavy rainfall and no one was the wiser. This week however she just hadn’t been on form so she wanted to lay some figures down before the hustle of the rat race began again tomorrow. Jen walked out as the doors opened into her office and for the first time surveyed it empty. Hard to believe this room contained so many characters, as the plain office space looked almost starved of personality with no fax noises, bubbling coffee machine and Shaw. Pulling her chair out Jen got down to business; hooking up her USB, opening relevant software, laying out her calculator and the sheets of numbers begging to be made sense of. A while later, happy with the progress made Jen decided to take a walk around and stretch her legs, she took the stairs to the eight floor lingering on the stairwell, she remembered her last outburst here; the recollection didn’t make her cringe but it didn’t leave her smiling either. She cracked the door open and heard the whirr of machinery; she wanted to leave the hard worker be but Jen wanted company for a little while so she peeked her head around the corner and spied a figure in blue reclined with his feet up. Well so much for hard work Jen thought. She knew then that she should leave, anyone would love a break from work but no one- her included- would appreciate their down time been trespassed upon. Jen let the door swing back and walked down to her floor hoping she knew how to turn the coffee machine on.

10.00am Tuesday morning Holloway Grove Victoria Island.

Jen tapped her heels against the side of her desk as she struggled through a difficult column of figures; Mariya was immersed as well, they both had their heads bent. The office was unusually quiet as everyone worked hard; seeming to make up for the indulgence over the holiday. It was in this atmosphere that Jen’s Blackberry rang loudly disturbing the diligent atmosphere of her co-workers. With an apologetic smile and two fingers still posed over her calculator Jen answered the blocked number.

“Hey” a voice said

“Hey you” Jen smiled into her reply

“How’s your day so far?” Esosa asked

“I’m only an hour into it but its set to be a long one”

“Oh, wish I could help”

“You could join me for lunch” Jen suggested

“That’s what I’m calling you about” Esosa started

“Ok” Jen crossed her fingers

“I have to go to Abuja” he heard Jen sigh “I know its impromptu but it’s urgent”

“This evening?”

“In an hour”

“Crap” Jen swore. Esosa laughed

“I know, and I was really looking forward to tonight”

“What’s happening tonight?” Jen asked

“Guess you’ll never know” Esosa said cheekily

Jen forced a laugh.

“Hey” Esosa said softly “I’ll miss you. Alot”

“Good. That’s your punishment”

“Call you when I get there” Esosa said amidst static

“Ok” then the line went dead

Jen glanced at the end screen on her phone, and felt like an idiot. She just acted like a petty child, she should have said “I’ll miss you too, probably even more because I just realized I’ve fallen for you” she sighed. This was supposed to be simple, he liked her- she liked him. Why couldn’t she just say it? Why was she was so scared? Now she understood how frightening it was to put yourself out there- wear your heart on your sleeve. Esosa and Jen had gotten into a dance where the only person that expressed interest was him; Jen never had to reciprocate but now she was in that dangerous territory of emotion where she wanted it to be ‘official’, her heart was getting involved and she wanted or rather needed to be his girl. It would be so much easier if Esosa would just formally ask her out then she could say yes and be done with it. Instead she played this game acting like her feelings for him hadn’t changed; the thought that admitting she now felt the same might damage everything. There was a certain frailty to her crush on Esosa, built over time without her even knowing it was growing made it feeble. Not a powerful force that would conquer everything in its path, but a persistent glow that felt like it could be snuffed out if she wasn’t careful. Jen believed if anything was to ever go wrong with this it would be her fault. It was a humbling experience to discover you had that power; to break someone’s heart, with just the wrong word, a rough gesture, a misplaced kiss.

It is so much simpler to play the victim, leave the decision making to someone else but at the ready to condemn if it didn’t go your way. Jen now understood the full scope of what Kabir had to deal with. She slept with him and then never spoke to him again. Yes, she had her reasons; self preservation being the foremost. She hated messy situations and ran as fast as her stiletto feet would carry her. But she never verbally told Kabir never to bother her again, all along she gave mixed signals, not speaking to him but never fully indicating she was over him as well. Jen didn’t think she knew what she wanted then either. Pushing away from the computer screen Jen got up and walked towards the elevator. She needed a break, something to lift her spirits; Jen pressed the button to the ground floor before remembering that Sandra was off today. As the doors slid open to the lobby Jen saw Kabir walking in, he looked different. She studied him, really looked through the expensive dark purple shirt and bulging arm muscles. There was something about the way he hunched his shoulders like he had been beaten at something, but he didn’t look upset. Stop it Jen, why do you always have to over examine him every time you bump into him? You are almost someone else’s girl now abi? Eyes front. She stepped back to let him in

“Thank you” he said. Jen nodded back a response

“How’ve you been?” Kabir asked

“Good. You?”

Kabir looked at Jen for a minute before he replied “I’m well. Everything is falling into place.”

Jen thought that was a weird answer but she smiled anyway. She stepped out on the second floor and Kabir waved goodbye. Jen mused as the elevator doors slid shut; it appeared they had reached some sort of homeostasis. That encounter wasn’t awkward at all.

Jen greeted Temi and stole a lollipop from the glass bowl on her counter. She had barely gotten two licks before

“Have you heard?” Temi whispered with a glint in her eye.

Ehen this is what she wanted to hear. Jen raised an eyebrow and Temi divulged details of Halima’s resignation. It only recently came to light that she quit, everyone assumed she was fired as attendance is taken very seriously in Holloway and Halima had been absent for two weeks prior.

Jen asked questions at the speed of light; boring generic stuff about state of health and family emergencies except the one she really wanted an answer to. Temi was oblivious, completely engrossed in how weird Halima’s behavior was, how she had stepped in showing no signs of distress and with no explanation for her whereabouts for the past couple of days either.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Do you know how much money her father has?” Temi continued puckering her lips in a hiss

Jen shook her head no

“Enough dough” Temi rubbed her index finger and thumb to indicate cash “She probably worked here just for fun”

Jen said something in agreement that started Temi on a tirade of how she works because she has to and not because she’s bored. Jen zoned out and recalled Kabir’s defeated stance in the lobby before he saw her and forced his shoulders upright. She saw him looking like he pulls overtime…she had no proof of that but she knew how she immersed herself in work to heal a broken heart. After a couple more minutes spent with the HR ladies as they debated Halima’s state of origin “Kaduna, Kano or Kastina?” Jen walked back to her office and once again faced figures fighting back pity for Kabir that she knew would surely put her in trouble.

It was a long week punctuated only by brief phone calls from Esosa whenever he got the chance. Esosa did tell her the trip was for 10 days but he was working his hardest to get it done sooner so he could get back quickly, possibly by Monday. Jen appreciated that and called to say it was for such reasons that she fell for him and that she missed him but always seemed to call at the wrong time; Esosa was sleeping or working. In meetings, conferences and seminars, sigh. Jen responded comically to all his text messages, trying to keep his spirits up because she didn’t feel she had the official right to nag. She wasn’t his girlfriend. Besides it was just till he returned on Monday, it wasn’t forever. That didn’t mean it didn’t suck, this not having him. She finally made up her mind, she knew who she wanted to be with and now she had to wait. It should be funny but it wasn’t. Jen read yet another “so sorry I missed your phone call last night” text from Esosa. Jen could be patient till Monday, what’s the worse that could happen?

Everyday Jen bumped into Kabir, and like magnets the pull dragged them back to spend more time talking, they began having longer face time; in the elevator, in the stairwell, in her office, in his, but mostly in the cafeteria. They had lunch together most days and just talked, she learnt a lot more about Kabir. Not the Architect or Rich Boy but Kabir the person. He told her about finally believing in destiny, allowing himself to make mistakes; he thanked her, without saying what for. She knew his favorite book, she knew his parents didn’t speak to him for two months after he moved to Lagos, he still owned his old Lego play-set. He made her laugh. Jen exhibited a rare frank quality by bringing up Halima. She asked if it was something she implied by not making their relationship a finality. He said no, he took full responsibility for what occurred with Halima and left it at that. He didn’t want to talk about it and Jen respected his decision. Now she also understood it differently; his demeanor was not that of a man who lost a girlfriend, Kabir was divorced. Maybe the naughty boy was still there, he just needed a little teasing out. A challenge that seemed to call to Jen but she shrugged of the temptation. Jen had heard of epiphanies but this personality change was too drastic for one person so she initially took it all as an act.

Jen tried not to notice how Kabir had changed. She pretended not to see him offer Temi a ride when it dark clouds began gathering, she also feigned ignorance when Sandra excitedly waived help with her script blushing as she hinted someone who would run lines with her during her lunch hour, she also made a u-turn as she heard Musa speaking in rapid Hausa to an unidentifiable dark male. The reformed bad boy appealed to Jen; especially one eager to stock up on karma points. Jen knew this harmless fantasy ‘of the good person she had created’ became dangerous when she bumped into Kabir in the elevator and she noticed for the first time in weeks how pink his lips were, how good he smelt when he stood close, how she liked his hair this rough, how dark his skin was against his white Egyptian cotton shirt.

“Are you okay?” Kabir asked raising an eyebrow

“Of course. What’s the matter with you?” Jen replied harshly

“Nothing” he looked confused “I was just wondering because you look…”

“Kabir I’m very busy” Jen said annoyed as the elevator opened to her floor. She stepped out and immediately dialed Esosa’s number; it didn’t go through the first time. “Devil get behind me” she whispered and tried again, he answered on the first ring.

“Hi”

“Hey” Jen chirped a little too loudly. Damn all this ‘wait till he gets back’ nonsense, she had to tell him now because she was projecting on Kabir.

“You sound flustered” Esosa said concerned

“Jen” he called when there was no answer

“I have to tell you something” Jen forced herself to say

“Sure”

“No time like the present right”

“That’s what I always say” Esosa laughed. Jen smiled

“If you ever decide you still want me….”

“Hey Esosa how long are you going to be?” came a male voice over the phone interrupting Jen

“Imade I’m on the phone” Esosa replied

“Well Dansabe will take the account elsewhere unless they get you to head the merger and we are late for the brunch meeting”

“Dansabe?” Jen croaked. It can’t be possible

“Yes” Esosa replied “his daughter just took over the textile division, getting the account is the whole point of this trip”

Jen’s head was spinning and she felt faint

“Jen are you okay?” Esosa asked sensing something was wrong, he heard a mumble and then the phone line went dead.

‘Karma is a bitch’ Jen mouthed as she sank to her seat gripping the table

11.00am Friday morning Central Business District Abuja.

Esosa Oyakilhome stared at his phone wondering at Jen’s abrupt hang up. Did she say something about wanting her? He didn’t get it, Esosa rubbed his head. This trip was playing havoc with his alertness. He was working his hardest to get all the wheels in motion so he could return to Lagos; it had gotten so bad Esosa fell asleep last night spooning the gross figures of Dansabe Textile and Clothing. He dreamt Jen said all these wonderful things to him. Sentiments he hoped he would hear but never this soon; she told him he was kind, a great kisser, her knight in a Cayman blue AYGO. Esosa smiled in his sleep and dropped the idea of getting sleeping pills in the morning if it meant missing out on these kinds of fantasies. When he awoke he saw the missed call on his phone, Jen never called him more than twice in a row because she hated being clingy, he sent her an apologetic text as he got dressed but the whole day he wondered about the dream, it seemed so real. It was possible he answered the phone in his sleepy state; he would always pick up Jen’s phone call no matter what he was doing, his head obviously made up the rest. Imade glanced at him impatiently, Esosa grabbed the file from his desk and they both climbed into the waiting silver Jaguar XJ the Dansabe liaison sent to take them to the hotel where the meeting would take place.

“People get money sha” Imade said whistling as he admired the Soft-grain leather seats

“Ugly boy like you no get chance now” Esosa teased

“Dey there. I get sugar mommy o. My level don change” Imade laughed

Esosa laughed with him, he enjoyed Imade’s company which made choosing an assistant on this trip easy. It still surprised Esosa how young he was because he worked so hard, such an eager learner. Imade could easily give 100% for a straight fortnight, working tirelessly without complaint, and he was only a year older than his brother. Imade was intensely enjoying his first trip to Abuja as well, his first out of Lagos by air he confessed to Esosa on the flight here and he handled being in the air very well for a first time flyer. He had a problem with showing weakness and Esosa admired that, in this business it was essential. They had pulled a 12hr shift last night yet Imade could barely sit still he was so excited and his enthusiasm wore of on Esosa. As the driver turned 19" toba alloy wheels into Aguiyi Ironsi Street bringing the Hilton into view, Esosa felt like he had just been chewing on coffee beans, he was so hyped. Having Imade around was like a shot of adrenaline to your system.

The very tall liaison led them to the hotel lobby and Imade tried not to look impressed. The Piano Lounge had an avant garde design and the laminated reflective ceilings stretched above flooding the room in light, the black Steinway grand piano flanked the leather chairs, it was the perfect venue for an informal business meeting. Already seated at a round table were four men in sharp black suits and two strikingly beautiful women who Imade whispered to be the infamous Dansabe sisters. They were seated by the liaison and finally caught his name as the smaller of the two sisters referred to him as Sadiq. Besides such business acumen Esosa and Imade looked under prepared; the Dansabe male negotiators visibly relaxed not feeling threatened at all. Esosa liked that, it was always a fatal mistake to underestimate your opponent.

The tall sister in the long green traditional dress spoke first

“Welcome. I understand that this was impromptu and I appreciate being able to make it down for the preliminary acquisition discussion”

“It was an honor to be invited” Imade responded quickly. Esosa placed a restraining arm on Imade’s shoulder. He opened his folder to a blank page and wrote “they brought us here. THEY want us”

The sister watched the exchange with serious eyes, it was obvious nothing got by her.

“We’ll get right down to it. We request your services primarily because we were impressed with the work executed on the Etisalat re-launch” Esosa was impressed, she really got right down to it and by placing all cards on the table she had regained control of the situation.

The suit to her far left glanced across for permission, and with a subtle nod that Esosa would have missed if he were any less observant, the dark man spoke

“Miss Jummai is right. We were even more intrigued to discover that Etisalat was merely a parent company and your services could be ‘rented’. We will however like to discuss your fees prior to opening negotiations on the textile merger.”

Esosa spoke then and he directed his comment to Jummai because she was obviously running the show

“Our fees are non-negotiable but on the basis of how much insight you feel is given towards your perceived goals for the company the bonus awards can be discussed”

“We have already explored the possibility of expanding our factory to increase productivity” Jummai interjected with a look Esosa associated with top CEOs. She did not take bull, Esosa liked her, and he smiled.

“We would actually desist evolving from a domestic small-scale status” Esosa replied calmly “Your cotton stage presently accounts for over 14% of total exports…” and as if rehearsed Imade passed copies of their sales record to everyone at the table. “Expanding in this present economic climate would halt profit at the rag stage”

“So what do you advice?” the dark suit man asked

“That Sir is why you should hire us” Imade smirked. Esosa looked at Jummai; Jummai looked at her sister who had remained silent throughout.

“Inform the maître to bring the brunch menus out” Jummai said smiling at Esosa “It appears we are in business”

After a hefty feast of Olympic salmon rings, roast tomato, egg and rocket bagels blueberry cheesecake muffins and a Tuscan picnic loaf; Dansabe Textiles had officially hired the services of Esosa’s auditing team. As the coffee was poured into little porcelain mugs shortly after conclusion, Jummai spied Esosa mid sip and said good naturedly “At least I know where half your bill will go towards”

Imade blushed as he had tried to impress her, Esosa smiled again. Imade glanced from one to the other and raised a not-too-subtle eyebrow. The whole team departed then but not before Jummai scribbled her number down in case of emergency with a straight face; Esosa couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. If he wasn’t madly in love with someone else he might have been intrigued to find out. As Sadiq reluctantly chauffeured them back to Etisalat offices, Imade looked at Esosa and said

“I underestimated you.”

“That’s how it’s done” Esosa replied hoping Imade was referring to the meeting and not the client.

12.20pm cafeteria Holloway Grove Victoria Island

Jen walked in sluggishly, she hadn’t been able to get her mind off what Esosa said. Dansabe? What the hell were the odds of that happening? She thought they were a royal family in Kano, not a business in Abuja. This is bad, very bad. Karma had come to collect her penance and it was going to be hefty payment. Jen had only met one sister; she didn’t want to know what a collective group of them could do to two men. Jen and Kabir locked eyes just then as he was seated at his usual place next to the window. The lunch lady was serving jollof rice but Jen had no appetite, she contemplated turning around but then Kabir kicked out a chair with his foot as an invitation. Jen walked over and sat down

“Karma is a bitch”

“I agree” Kabir said staring at his plate

“I deserve it”

“I doubt that” Kabir looked at her

“Yeah because I’m virtuous woman personified” Jen rolled her eyes and stole dodo from a side dish

“More virtuous than me”

“You are not that bad, well the new you anyway. Change suits you”

“I am tolerably sick of vice which I have tried in agreeable quantity” Kabir said smiling

Jen smiled back. They shared a look for a moment.

“Why is this getting awkward?” Kabir asked, normally he would move on but he promised to always be honest with himself

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Jeb lied as she coached herself to look at his face and think straight.

They spoke some more as Kabir finished his meal and afterwards headed for the elevator. Waiting for the lift, Jen stopped thinking and said

“Do you miss me?”

“Is that a safe topic?” Kabir asked back

“Yes or no?”

“What will it matter?” Kabir watched as Jen broke the personal space barrier they had. What was she doing?

The elevator opened then and Jen walked in first, as Kabir followed after and pressed his floor then hers, Jen decided to let it go as Kabir said

“All the time. I think about you all the time Jen but I understand that I can’t have you because I blew it and….”

Jen grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, Kabir swallowed his last words and before drowning in the ecstasy that Jen could illicit from him with just one look he punched the stop button on the elevator.

Stay Tuned for the finale of Cash or Credit

By S.B

Naija babes are easy.....

Disclaimer-This is male bashing rant, and makes unwarranted generalisations. All opinons expressed are strictly those of the writer and are not endorsed by Blogger!

Naija babes are EASY. I am so so tired of hearing this from guys that come back from Nigeria. It really gets me down that the reputation of young ladies at home could not be any worst. Naija babes are sluts, cheap, easy, hoes, gold-diggas, desperate and would sleep with an 80year old for a recharge card. They will have orgies with thier sisters for a bag from Paris. I am tired.

My uncle just got back from Naija a couple of weeks ago, and he was gisting me of all the escapades. He went out to different bars in Lagos with some friends who are supposed Lagos big boys(one of whom is d head of a popular bank and is currently being investigated by EFCC), and they were asking him what sort of babe he would like for the night. he's like nah, I am married, and they laugh at him like arent we all! This friend tells him that any type of babe he wants is just one call away because he knows this GIRL in Unilag that organies babes for nights out. (Biko why is it always Unilag sef??lol)
When my uncle insists that he's not interested, he's like don't worry, lets go to the club, they will come to us. All we have to do is order loads of expensive drinks, and they will flock like bees to a hive. Going out in London with the Nigerian crowd, I have been unfortunate enough to notice this disturbing trend, but my uncle in retelling the story seems shocked that upon ordering the drinks, babes magically drift to their table. "Moet is a hoe's energy drink" is thier motto!LOL. The fact that he is a pot bellied middle aged man did not seem to dissuade them, if anything this was their target market as young boys cannot afford their lifestyles!! My uncle said this trip confirmed his suspicion that he can NEVER live in Nigeria again because"the moral fibre of our society is corrupt, both men and women have no sense of decency, and people are morally degenerated" his words not mine.

My brother also just got back from Naija with stories about girls constantly bugging him. Now I normally take his stories with a pinch of salt cause he seems to think every girl is into him. One time we were at Boots and this pretty attendant asks him if he would like anything, and he replies no, flashing his million dollar smile, and as the babe leaves, he nudges me excitedly, saying, meeeennnnn b, did you see how dat babe was gbaduing me??
Am like dude, relax, she was being nice,
he's like did she come to you to ask if you are allright?? mennn she was all over me like butter on toast......at which point I start walking away and shaking head for him!!lol.
But his stories this time were not filled with pride, but with sadness, like menn dese babes have no respect for themselves, they are filled with no self-worth, and have been taught to believe that they are worth nothing more than their youthful bodies, and milking it is the only way to escape the trap of persistent poverty. I was impressed by his thought process, as not many Nigerian guys think like this.

This is where my problem lies,(and thus my rant begins!). I do not mean to bash the guys but I am TIRED of y'all hating the hoes(lol). Can we show these hoes some lovee?? Like my friend says hoes need love too!!LOL

O.K seriously, me and my mum always debate who the morality of the society rests on, and I always used to agree with my dad. Our argument was that if women are morally upright, they bring up their male and female children in that light and influence a generation. But I was naive to think like this because this is a purely western approach.
In Africa, the men sing the tune of society that women have to dance to. This is not only because of the symbolic value of the man, but because men control the FINANCES. It all boils down to money in Nigeria. Men are the providers, and no matter how women try, they cannot be as financially bouyant as men. In the western world, although they also face considerable difficulty, it is very possible to be wealthy without selling your body.

Now what is messed up in Nigeria, and Africa in general is that the men exploit this, and then have the audacity to call them names. Are you freakingg kidding me?? Are you confused?? You cannot be on both sides of the fence. If you say a woman is a golddigging slut, yet you take a girl shopping just so you can screw her, then you are a hypocrite. These middle aged men drive through unilag etc with thier big cars, big money, big egos and big stomachs to seduce these girls with money theyknow they could never have access to if they read all the books in Unilag library, and then complain that they are whores!! What the fuck??
This is a scenario I read in Baba Alaye's blog:

"When we scream about "moral decay" in the society, i don't think its's that cut and dried.We should look at the whole picture.Are we that morally Bankrupt as a people. No i don't think so. It's Poverty. When you go to bed hungry because you don't have food to eat, and you're not sure where Breakfast is coming from. Your outlook to life changes.It stops being about what the flashy Pastor says you can't do, it becomes a race of Survival. And the odds are daunting.You don't beleive me? Step into any face me i face you house in Lagos for 10 minutes and see how people live, how 15 people squeeze themselves into a room just a little bigger than a Toyota Corolla. How 100+ people shove and fight to use a Maggot infested bathroom in the morning.Then get dressed and jump on a Molue to go to work. All their hopes and dreams dashed, their future mortgaged by Corrupt Politicians and Millitary Despots.. No Medicare, no Electric Power, no food, nothing. Even Dogs at the other more affluent part of town feed better.Poverty amidst plenty

.A lot of these girls want to chart a better future for themselves they see education as a ticket out of abject povert. (role models are all over the place). So they give it their all. They throw everything in it. They use the only thing they've got. They sleep with Lecturers to get admission into school, sleep with lecturers to pass exams, sleep with Aristos to feed, buy handouts, clothe themselves, and they have absolutely no time for broke undergraduate boys trying to run game. (Oloshi olori buruku i'm running away from poverty you wan make i come add your own join? Na Flowers i go chop? you dey craze. Abeg carry your Basketball shirt, and tontirin jeans comot for here before i open my eyes .lol) Baby gurl needs to send money home to feed her siblings and take care of her ailing mother or wharrever.

They finally graduate from school and keep in touch with the numerous Aristos.Her Networking is on point,she's a *cough* "graduate" now, so she gets a job in xyz Bank. Now she's an official Lagos Big Girl. She buys a Honda, moves from Okokomaiko to a Flat at Opebi, She comes to jand for Summer, attends all the Ovation type parrys in Naija, get's herself an Ajebutter Ikoyi boy, The Boy has no idea where she's coming from. All he knows is she cooks well, cleans up his crib, has no qualms washing his clothes, she shows him a few bedroom tricks that blow his socks off, goes to church every Sunday and Wednesday, Bobo is going, going, gone. Next thing na for Wedding Web site you go see them.
That, my friend is the Nigerian dream."

This post illustrates my point. Now I am not condoning or even excusing such behaviour. But men you have to look at it from both perspectives--life in Naija is hard. These men make it too easy to succumb to the Gbogbo Bigz girlz lifestyle.
Picture a converse scenario, a babe does not do any Suga dady runz in schools, leaves with her 1st class but no connections. Ends up in Ministry of Works earning 10,000 salary, half of which goes to transporting herself from her shack in Ilupeju to the Ministry on the Island, not enough to send back to the village to mumy where militants are spraying bullets in her backyard, not enough to send to her younger brother to register for jamb and come and join her in Lagos, not enough to freakin survive. After your mum has spent the better part of life hustling for money to educate you and you have nothing to show for it, you start to throw morality out the back door.
On the other hand, your childhood friend and roomate who failed all her classes but slept with her lecturer to pass now works in some place making big bucks and mixing with the right alhajis, now owns her own flat, car and has enough to send to mumy and siblings in the village. Its an all too typical scenario.
Instead of passing judgement, why dont we ask the men why they are willing to throw away money just to sleep with young girls? It is with them I find the major flaw, and it is for them I shake my head.

The Ex List...

I miss my ex.

I miss the way we used to laugh at the exact same thing at the exact same time.

I miss the way we used to argue about law and legal issues.

I miss the way we used to correct each others coursework while arguing about who was smarter

I miss the way we used to diss the various reigions of Lagos

I miss the way we used to argue about everything and anything

I miss the way I used to tease you everytime your team lost in the premiership

I miss the way we used to plan for you to meet my dad without him killing you

I miss the way you used to stare at me everytime I won an argument

I miss the way you used to make fun of me for sleeping for ages

I miss the way you used to shout on your phone like the person is across the field

I miss the way we both loved to watch yoruba films online even though we always complained abt how terrible they are

I miss the way I used to call you at random times to ask you the capital of a state or other random questions and you would always know

I miss the fact that you were always there for me 24/7 no matter what it was you were doing

I miss the way you never pick your phone becoz its always on vibrate

I miss the way you used to read Nigerian news every morning as soon as you get up

I miss the way you always fed me when I was hungry

I miss the way you used to stutter when you got really passionate

I miss the way you always smelled of cologne all the time

I miss the way you held me so strongly yet so softly

I miss the excitement in your voice everytime you spoke to me

I miss knowing that you were in love with me


I do not miss the lying, the headache and the heartache

I do not miss the stress, the deceit and the dodgey friends

I do not miss the fighting, the inconsistencies and the phoney e-mails

I do not miss the cheating

I do not miss my ex.


Miss B.

Senility......

Senile--showing a decline or deterioration of physical strength or mental functioning, esp. short-term memory and alertness, as a result of old age

Hello blogsville,

I bet you are wondering what the title of my post means. Well it basically means old age. I am getting old. I know you are thinking how can a 21yr old think shes getting old, but it is not from my age, it is in the changes I have noticed about myself. I seem to be entering a new phase of my life which is probably why I think its old age. Here are some of the examples:

Comfort over Style- A year or even 6months back, this would have been blasphemous. But lately I have noticed that if somthing is not comfortable, I am less likely to buy it, or wear it if I already own it. I just cant be bothered. This is especially for shoes. I love heels even though I have never been great at walking in them for ages, they are just gorge to look at, esp sky high stilletos. I still love my heels, but now I only go for chunky heels with a platform front so it supports you. For example topshop latest collection of shoes are superbly sexy but soo ridiculously high!!




I have been admiring these on diff people at diff occassions but I just cannot be bothered to be uncomfortable. The same goes with clothes, if i have to keep adjusting it the whole night, or its so tight I know I cannot eat dinner to fit into it then I'll just allow it!! LOL. OMG who am I turning into??


Sleeping During a Movie- Yes I said it. I now sleep during movies. Ok I am sure you all know I love sleep. But lately as soon as I put on a movie and I will start dozzing off. Only Nigerian movies used to have this effect on me, but now it can be anything. Worse still, this year I fell asleep in the cinema with my friend!!! Ok so we both got back from work during my placement in London and decided to go and see Valkyrie just cause of Tom Cruise. OMG how many ways can you say DULL, there was absolutely no action, no hitler, no killing or blood or nothing, just talk talk talk for like 45mins. Ok so my friend started dozing off next to me and I started laughing at her, but next thing I knew I thought I'd put my head on her shoulders and by the time we woke up, they were finally trying to assasinate Hitler instead of just talking about it, so we actually didnt miss anything..LOL!
Bottom line is I love movies and my curiosity to get to the end always keeps me glued(unless its Nollywood), and so I have taken this to mean old age has set in. Just yesterday, I was watching this movie called the Lazarus Project starring Paul Walker(dt guy's career is finished if he continues starring in films like this) and I fell asleep. Its an ok movie, its not enough to keep you hooked, or maybe this is me making excuses for being a granny!

Partying-I am really putting up my dancing shoes and retiring from my party riding days. Notice that I said retiring, I have not completely turned into a granny yet, and do enjoy a night out once in a while with my friends. But lately, I have changed the kind of places I like to go to. Firstly, I will rarely will be bothered to go out unless theres an event happening or we are celebrating something, unlike back in first year when me and my crazy roomate would go in2 any building as long they played something that resembles music and sold drinks, men we once went out for 2 weeks straight and still attended all our lectures at 9.30 in the morning!! When my friend from the States came over, she kept on dissing me cause I always had to be dragged/forced/blackmailed into going out!!

Secondly, if there is no Nigerian music being played, it will be really hard for me to be bothered to go, the crowd has to be mature as I cannot deal with over-zealous, drunk, slutty looking british teenagers anymore. Worst still, I find myself looking at ladies like OMG what is she wearing? isnt that too tight, OMG I can see most of her boobs, (wondering if i offer her my scarf to cover up would she be offended??) and for the guys I cannot bare to see, over-dressed, sunshade wearing, bottle poppin attention seeking dudes anymore. I even find myself shaking head for them like, OMG dey are so sad, is every song be your fave song and dya really have to dance on the table.??? Tut, tut, shaking my head like a granny!! And since these people are usually guranteed at partys, I'd rather just sit at home with friends, eat ice-cream and watch Gossip girl!! I am just not bothered anymore!


It is confirmed-I am now OLD!! Sigh!

500 days of Summer.....

heyy blogsville,
I know, I know I have been m.i.a. I never thought I would say this but I think I am becoming an adult. I have had so much on mind, number one of which is unemployment and the fear thereof. Application forms are boring, hard, long and sooo monotonous. But I can't complain yet cause I still have the grad applications to do, which have these timed tests that I am terrible at. And the worst part of these are the rejections. Sigh! Thus the reason I have been away from blogsville, and yes I know you have missed me, the feeling is definatly mutual!!









Anyway to more exciting stuff, the title of this post is the name of this movie I saw yesterday.





If you guys have not seen this movie, I suggest you do. It is the best rom-com I have seen this summer, considering that me and my friends have seen so many crap ones,(e.g 21 dresses-shitest rom-com ever), we had sadly started giving up on this genre!
Ok what I love about this movie is that the xters are sooo well explored. I mean I know a guy just like the lead guy, and I kinda know a girl like summer--me! Maybe this is why I love it so much. The babe is a free spirit, even though she is a bit of a bitch(unlike me of course)!
But the best part of the movie(if you havn't seen it stop reading now cause I am about to ruin it)---is the end when she tells him why she doesnt want to committ, and be his girlfriend. She basically says I thought I didnt believe in love and would never commit but I didnt believe in love with YOU and couldn't commit to YOU!
OMG genuis!! I had an epiphany at that moment!
I know you guys are thinking errr.....kini big deal right??
But you have to see the movie to get it. Ok so after he's crazy in love with her, and she claims she doesnt believe in relationships and monogamy etc, she goes and marries this next guy she meets in 5 seconds! And we all know of at least one couple that have been dating for ages, and as soon as they break up, you are getting an invite to one of their weddings to some randomer!!

And so it clicked! Sometimes someone seems perfect for you. They have all the qualities you desire and most important they are CRAZY about you, but you just dont feel that "connection", the x-factor, the buzz, whatever it is that makes you blush when you think of the person or makes you smile when you see sheep, or makes you laugh when you hear a paticular song! And the feelings have to be MUTUAL! Naija females especially always say that its better to have someone who is crazy over you, than someone who you are crazy over. While this is true to some extent, there has to be a level of mutuality. Once it is as one sided as it was in this movie, i.e you are completely infatuated and head over heels and this other person is "just there" then its best to RUN. Like lauren in the hills says, Love is not a "maybe" thing, you have to feel you are giving as good as you are getting.

In conclusion go and see this movie! If you dont love it then you suck! lol

Meanwhile I am looking forward to thses rom-com's starring every star on the planet. Should be good.






Enjoy
xoxo

Cash or Credit 7.......Part 2

Part 1 can be found below and Part 6 can be found HERE!

11.00pm
Thursday evening 49 Bode-Thomas Street Surulere.

Osaze Oyakilhome angled the light of the lamp to the couch, stared at the flushed expression of his brother and the red face of the girl avoiding eye contact and knew exactly what he had interrupted. He was glad he decided to weather the storm and make his way home in the end…this should be an interesting evening.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he asked with a cheeky grin
“I believe you are capable of introducing yourself” Esosa responded. Osaze smiled, his brother was still upset over their argument earlier today and so was he as a matter of fact, which is why he was going nowhere despite the looks Esosa threw at him.
“Hi I’m Osaze. Esosa’s younger brother. I live here as well” he said in his most charming voice
“J-Jennifer” the girl stuttered. He took her hand, felt the soft palms and wondered where his brother found this ajebota from. She didn’t look like she had ever known suffering. All three of them exchanged looks, the lamp casting shadows on their face making it appear they wore masks. Osaze simply hopped over and made himself comfortable. Snuggling right in and kicking his shoes off he lay facing them. Making it obvious he was staying put.
“Osaze” Esosa said in a serious tone
“Oh sorry broda” he replied and got up to place the shoes neatly by the door, returning back to his position and settling in with a “hmm”
“Perhaps we should turn on the gen” Esosa suggested
“Ah ah who are you trying to impress. Generator only comes on at weekends” Osaze said in their native tongue. Jen hid a smile
“Jen is from Benin” Esosa said, annoyed that she had to hear that
“Kóyò” Jen said greeting him hello
“Oops” Osaze said not looking embarrassed at all
“Whereabouts?” he enquired and Jen responded. “This is our sister now” he chuckled to Esosa who didn’t smile back. It appeared his brother still thought he’d be venturing out into the rain.
“Vbè ore 'nì rue?” Osaze asked
“Jennifer” Jen responded, hoping he wouldn’t ask for her Edo middle name so he could tease. Osaze shook his head and smiled
“érhá” he asked with a determined look, asking for her father’s name. Jen, for her full name- Jen volunteered thanking the Lord for the millionth time that her father wasn’t involved in politics.
Osaze looked like someone who was angry at the world, Jen was very observant and it appeared with every question he asked; however innocent- he was judging.
“Ób’ókhían” he greeted her
“Ù rú èsé” she replied
So far, from his charm it appeared she had passed, but still it was a little cute to see someone looking out for Esosa. Even if he didn’t appreciate it, sitting on the reading chair sulking like a boy who had been denied a treat.
She easily relaxed with Osaze, and forgot that a couple of minutes ago her bra was about to be unhooked by his brother on the very couch he now lay on.
“Have you been given a tour?” he asked
“I still say you got the better bed” Jen leaned in and whispered.
“Oh definitely” Osaze agreed patting a cushion of the couch
“If it wasn’t raining cats and dogs I’d have shown you the piece de resistance?”
“Oh Esosa’s shown me the balcony” Jen said with an inviting look to Esosa to join in the conversation
“Really! You are the only one to comeback alive then” Osaze teased
“What can I say? My chi is strong”
“You are from a good breed” Osaze mimicked a typical Benin man and Jen laughed her head off. He did a couple more and soon Jen was grabbing her stomach in stitches. Jen relaxed completely in his company and decided to leave Esosa to his own devices so he could cool down a bit.
Osaze couldn’t be anymore different from his older brother. He was blessed with charm right from the onset and Jen was enjoying his company like it was originally her plan to visit him. She could now correlate the restless explorer in him with the lead character of his favourite book. They spoke about Gulliver’s at length and Osaze confessed that he always wanted to travel the world. He told her he was studying English at UNILAG because it was his dream to be an English teacher in someplace foreign. Jen asked where? Osaze said it didn’t matter but he wouldn’t remain in any one place for longer than 18 months at the most. He probed Jen for where she’d been to and Jen replied not that many places. As comfortable as she was she was not as unbecoming as to play the role of middle-class baby and rattle off the countries on her passport. So she told a white lie- stating her only destinations as England where she schooled and next door Cardiff where she once vacationed.

Esosa stared at the pair of his brother and Jen already annoyed that he had to come interrupt. He watched Jen sway as Osaze reminded her of folk songs she had not heard sung since she was a child, they laughed over stupid things and Esosa just prayed for the rain to stop so he could kick his brother out. Osaze had always been easy around people, growing up he was always defended by his older siblings and had learnt to get by on his charm, and this unfortunately had rendered him lazy. So lazy that he had yet another carryover from one of modules at University this year. Again. Esosa couldn’t understand why the boy did not apply the same work ethic to his books that he did to forming friendships with people he just met. His truancy and repeated number of skipped class lectures had gotten them into an argument just this morning, Osaze wasn’t rude; he wouldn’t dare, but he still managed to come off as flippant before leaving on an errand that he claimed would take hours. Esosa merely assumed he would spend the night with a friend sending a text to say he would be home the next day. But here he was home early, and treading on a private moment between him and Jen just to fluster him. It was moments like this that made Esosa reflect. Esosa tired of playing the role of father and brother to him, it was difficult to be stern on one hand and then ask for privacy the next so he could spend some alone time with a girl, but he promised his stepmom- Osaze’s birth mother that he would care for her son and that is what he intended to do.

“Will you join us?” Jen asked Esosa pointing at the ludo game Osaze had unearthed. He shook his head no and waved them on with a smile
“Oh come on” Jen coaxed
“I’ll referee” Esosa said
“It’s because he always wins” Osaze told Jen
“How? It’s a game of luck”
“Not when you are the brilliant Esosa its not” Osaze replied
“Well not me, I’m horrible” Jen confessed
“Thank God me too. Tell you what; we each get a chance to cheat twice” Osaze propositioned
“It’s a done deal” Jen said and they shook hands on it.
The divided up the primary colours that marked up the starting squares, Jen took blue and green which displayed the pictures of Fela and Tupac and Osaze took on red and yellow- Michael Jackson and Oliver de Coque- and they began to race their token of selected colours from start to finish by rolling the dice. It took them both ages to roll sixes and they laughed at their sad luck.
“Ye evban” Osaze would occasionally tell Jen. Pointing at a square he wished her to send her token, which would place it in his path so he might overtake and win
“You wish” Jen would roll her eyes
The game lasted for over thirty minutes and when Osaze attempted to cheat a third time Jen called him out on it, soliciting the designated referee for back up. Esosa merely waved them on and Jen got annoyed with his determination to pursue his sulking. When the game ended with Osaze the clear winner they hoped to roll again but the light of the electric lamp began to wane. Esosa called to his brother to bring out the spare behind the bar but Osaze confessed to not charging it.
“But when I asked you…”
“I know broda I’m sorry”
“Typical”
“Laho” Osaze apologised. Esosa grunted
“Laho Esosa” the minute Jen said that she regretted it. The annoyed look that crossed Esosa’s face indicated she had taken his younger brother’s side for more than just a rechargeable lamp issue.
“Khue Osaze” he said and reaching behind the table lamp for a torch light attempted to make his way up the stairs. Jen didn’t know if that was to be a joke, but she didn’t find it funny. In a voice employed by her mother when she intended to scold Jen stood up and bid Osaze goodnight while climbing up the stairs to Esosa’s bedroom.
“What was that all about?” she asked “Telling me to pursue your brother”
“Oh you didn’t find it funny?” Esosa said as he sat on his bed
“I am waiting for you to make your point” Jen said with her hands on her waist, she was sick of his petulant behaviour. She was enjoying the kissing too, but there was nothing to do for it. Osaze lived here as well and it was pouring outside; she made the best of the situation, why can’t he?
“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s lazy and when you jump to his defence like that you give him license to act cheeky” Esosa told her
“I wasn’t. I am sorry I didn’t mean to interfere” Jen apologised
“Osaze is used to having things slightly easier than my siblings and I”
“Isn’t that the way it should be? He’s the youngest”
“Yes. You’re right” Esosa left it at that but Jen looked at him so he continued
“He’s not doing well in school and I don’t understand the problem. Its not girls or drugs, those I can deal with, he’s just unserious. I don’t know how to get him to focus. Take school seriously”
“He wants to travel, not school”
“I am not helping with his school fees so he can go gallivanting the world”
“If you stop being so stern you will see that there are other ways to reach him than scolding”
“He’s a child”
“He’s only two years younger than I am” Jen said
“Well its different for you isn’t it”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen blinked
“It doesn’t mean what you think it does Jen” Esosa said to pacify
“Really because what I meant was stimulating him with something else; perhaps, by encouraging him to look for a job during his holidays as a flight attendant. That way he can experience travelling and earn some money as well, that should help Osaze re-focus plus it will show you support him.”
Esosa looked humiliated after Jen explained
“You obviously meant the fact that I had my father pay for everything when I was in Uni” Jen looked at him
“I am sorry, it just came out. It was a stupid remark. It was in no way a personal attack or reflection of you. You already know I think you’re a wonderful person”
Jen looked at him upset and declared
“I’m going downstairs to make sure I have everything I came with, I wouldn’t want to disturb Osaze when he’s sleeping in the morning” and she turned on her heel and climbed back down; making out the shapes in the darkness with her hands, upset that she didn’t think to grab the torch off the bed before marching out. Well she couldn’t go back now could she? Osaze was putting away the board game and didn’t appear startled to see her materialise out of the darkness.
“Sorry to disturb you” Jen said
“No not at all. Can I help with something?” he asked looking for Esosa behind her
“Just making sure I didn’t leave anything behind”
As Osaze helped look around for foreign belongings Jen saw a bag of unopened plantain chips
“Oh can I have some?”
“You eat that? Posh girl like you”
“Meaning what?” Jen laughed
“Meaning I thought u only snacked on Pringles or Walkers crisps” Osaze said, there was no laughter in his voice
“Ah ah why would you think that” Jen said wondering at his change in tone
“You’re madam money bags now. Madam international passport” he jeered
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen said for the second time that night
“Why are you here?” Osaze stopped searching behind cushions to stare at her. Jen looked at him confused
“Really you think you’re fooling me” Osaze said with a low laugh
Jen was confused, wasn’t this boy the one she just played ludo and sang with?
“All these rich girls who want to see what’s its like on the other side, abi? Squat in a one bedroom at the opposite end of town for the experience of ‘managing.’ Before running home to air-conditioned houses and housegirls and maiguards.
“In what position are you to judge me like that…?” Jen felt like she was talking to a different person
“Do you even like my brother?” or is he just a game to you? Something fun”
“My relations to your brother involve only your brother” Jen responded
“Esosa does not mate for fun. So if this is some sort of social experiment to you, then just leave now”
“Where are you getting all this from?” she enquired
“Oooh I know ur type all too well…sophisticated girls but lacking in substance, drive round in expensive cars and wear expensive clothes but pretend to understand the life of a common man because you spare a couple of minutes to chat. You think that makes you emphatic to their suffering?”
Esosa was right Jen thought. Osaze is a child; still angry at the world for what happened to their father. Not in the noble way that Esosa was by refusing to work for the people who disappointed his family but in a selfish way. All Osaze knows is that one minute they lived on the Shell estate with a driver and the next he was being placed in public school. He feels the whole of Nigeria owes him an apology.
“Your fight is not with me…” Jen began “but everyone who made you feel inferior for having less Osaze, and let me tell you now, that until you are proud of what u have achieved, u will never be content. Your brother is and he doesn’t apologise for it. That’s why I’m here, because he works hard and has the confidence of a man who built everything himself and hence has something to say.”
“Yeah whatever material girl” Osaze hissed in her direction
Esosa thundered down the stairs then, to check on Jen and before her very eyes Jen watched Osaze transform to his charming self, handing her phone and bidding them both a goodnight. Appears he was only nice to be respectful to his brother, he didn’t care for her, and Jen didn’t know what she had done but guess you can’t win them all. Can you.
She climbed back up to Esosa and when they reached the landing he apologised again and Jen told him not to sweat it. In his bedroom he had created a makeshift sleeping area on the floor for himself and left her the bed with the covers on. He also offered one of his shirts to sleep in and handed her the torch so she could make her way to change in the bathroom. Jen returned and climbed in uttering a quiet good night, she heard Esosa turn on his side severally so she wasn’t surprised when he started talking into the darkness.
“My mother died when I was young, I don’t remember how old and my father re-married shortly after. All my early memories are of íyé are Osaze’s mother. She loved me like I was her own and though she bore six more children- four girls and Osaze- she never stopped caring for me. After my father got a bad back that pushed him into early retirement, things got hard. We never knew when the pension would come or how much so we struggled to make ends meet.” Esosa took a deep breathe he wasn’t used to pouring his heart out
Jen kept really still lest she frighten him
“My parents were adamant that Osaze try to live the way we were intended to” Esosa continued “that meant no manual labour for him, just school. Lots of it. We didn’t mind, if anything we were glad to raise the baby of the house as middle-class as we could afford. Just look what’s it’s done to him now. He’s gotten so used to everyone toiling on his behalf that he doesn’t listen to advice anymore. I will not always be there to fix everything; I just wish he would take responsibility instead of having his head in the clouds.” Esosa exhaled and continued
“Jen its not that I don’t support him, I don’t want you to think that I will ever be that cold, I am only looking out for him”
“I know” Jen whispered “It was not my place to tell you how to raise him”
“Raising Osaze” Esosa frowned in the dark “my father would have known what to do”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you”
“He died shortly after I returned from Ghana. He never even got to see me move from my uncle’s couch into my own place”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you” Jen said with certainty
“Osaze isn’t a bad kid. He just resorts to truancy because he wants attention. You’re a tough act to follow you know. Maybe he just feels that because he can never excel academically like you did, he might as well not try. “Jen gasped “I apologise I’m doing it again aren’t I? Psycho analysing”
“No please” Esosa said “It takes a woman to know these things”
“Your brother loves you. He’s very protective of you” Jen said
“And I of him” Esosa said with such resolve that Jen smiled into the darkness
“Good night Jen”
“Good night Esosa” she replied and when he fell asleep leaving only his gentle snoring for company Jen knew for certain she had fallen for him; because she had seen the sort of person he could have let himself become: bitter and resentful. She understood him more and with each layer she peeled back she liked what she discovered. Esosa the Economist. Esosa the friend. Esosa the First Son. Esosa the Lover? Jen rolled on the bed till she leaned over the edge looking at Esosa sleeping on the floor, his hands underneath his head and the steady rise and fall of his chest. She wished she could study him in better light but that would mean shining the torch in his face, Jen smiled when she realised that she would enjoy watching him sleep.


She had fallen for Esosa Oyakilhome.




By S.B