The Learnt Bunk

ATTEND #THEBELLYBRATION PARTY! AT MURI OKUNOLA PARK | MARCH 31

2019-03-05T01:56:00.003+00:00

THIS IS NOT A FOOD FESTIVAL! WE ARE CELEBRATING OUR BELLIES!

What started out as a BYOB house meets has grown to be an infamous underground foodies party. It has now evolved to not only a food pop up but a mix of games day with friends including food from the Big Belly Gang. We say "Food by us, For us". Our Idols are Matty Matheson and Action Bronson.

This edition of the 'Big Belly Chow Series' is tagged #THEBELLYBRATION as it will happen on a larger scale than the mini pop-ups. In this edition, we are partnering with Shots & Mugs as well as the Douglas Jekan of the PGM Club (Pushing Good Music) who would be curating the music

DATE: MARCH 31, 2019

VENUE: MURI OKUNOLA PARK, V.I

TIME: 4 PM

Be sure to come hungry and ready to eat, drink and party!

DANCEHALL VIBES AS RUNTOWN AND PATORANKING SHAKE UP THE CLUB AT GLENFIDDICH MAVERICKS NIGHT

2016-12-20T18:26:00.000+00:00

Patoranking and Runtown

Superstars Runtown and Patoranking shook Grasshoppers to its foundation last friday as they took center stage at the Glenfiddich Mavericks Night churning out hit songs after hits songs. The two dancehall singers seemed inseperable as they enjoyed Glenfiddich whiskey cocktails. DJ Caise also worked the crowd to a frenzy with his skills on the turntable while guests enjoyed a selection of Glenfiddich whisky - 15 years, 18years, 21 years.

For more information and pictures, visit Glenfiddich on facebook www.fb.com/GlenfiddichNG

9ICE SURPRISES FANS AT THE #HOUSEOFJACK BARREL EDITION AT THE HOUSE OF HAZE

2016-09-27T16:44:00.001+01:00

Friends of Jack had a shocking surprise as indigenous superstar 9ice stepped out to thrill them at the launch of the specially selected barrel for House of Haze formerly Road Runners. Rapper Magnito, hypeman Ben Foster and DJ Big N were also on hand to make the night a memorable one.

Everyone who attended on the night had a chance to taste the richness of the Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Select bottle specially selected by HOH; can attest to its top quality and unique taste. Indeed, this is what the ‘By The Barrel’ program is all about. It’s a unique experience for the owner and those who share in it, as the barrel is hand-selected and sampled by the owner in person alongside Master Distiller Jeff Arnett.

This marks the last in the series of launch parties for the specially selected barrels for specific clubs – Quilox, Play Lounge Abuja, Carribbean Abuja, and The Place Lekki

You can see more pictures on www.facebook.com/JackDanielsNigeria

REMY MARTIN TO CELEBRATE QUILOX BOSS SHINA PELLER

2014-10-15T12:24:00.001+01:00

QUILOX BOSS SHINA PELLER TO BE CELEBRATED WITH REMY MARTIN's PACESETTER PARTY

Remy Martin is set to bring the very best of Lagos finest and the crème de la crème of society to host the October 2014 edition of Remy Martin Pace Setters VIP Party in honor of the Shina Peller, CEO of Aquila Group and Quilox Club.

The "Remy Martin Pace Setters VIP Party" series is a premium platform specially created to celebrate achievers and trendsetters in the Nigerian society and also the brand's influential consumers. It features the finest of Remy Martin cocktails, food pairings and Remy Martin based desserts.

The Pace Setters VIP Party which has held since June 2013, has so far celebrated Radio Personalities, Business Entrepreneurs, Multi-Million dollar CEO's, Politicians, Pioneer Nollywood actors like RMD and some of the most talented music acts in Africa like DJ Jimmy Jatt, Tiwa Savage, Wande Coal, Matthew Ohio amongst others.

Shina Peller; a graduate of Chemical Engineering from the Ladoke Akintola University of Technology (LAUTECH) is the Chairman /CEO of Aquila Group of Companies and Quilox Restaurant Bar & Nightclub, With a Master's degree in Business Management, he has close to two decades in business and leadership experience driven by a strong entrepreneurial orientation having worked across several key functions with various blue chip organizations. He was the recently awarded the at the African Business Leadership Awards 2014 alongside Dr Paul Orhii OON, Director General of NAFDAC, Mrs Dupe Atoki – Director General, Consumer Protection Council and Engr. Oladele Amoda – MD/CEO of Eko Electricity Distribution Company.

GET A CHANCE TO PARTY WITH YOUR FAV CELEBRITIES AT THE #HOUSEOFJACK PARTY

2014-09-22T12:07:00.001+01:00

Imagine the best music, grills, cocktails, games and your friends in one place!

On Saturday 27th of September, Jack Daniel's will host a phenomenal 'one of a kind' house party just for you! It's the last weekend of the month and not only are we celebrating Mr Jack's birthday; we are celebrating Nigeria's Independence. With this party, the world's best-selling whiskey aims to magnify the art of partying.

The House of Jack is open to an exclusive celebrity and fans audience. So are you a friend of Jack? Do you want invites to the House Of Jack?

Post a picture of the flyer or tell us why you want to be at this party via Instagram/Twitter with the hashtag #HouseOfJack #JacksBirthday and an invite disclosing the venue will be sent to you. Save the date and let's get the conversation going.

Twitter: JackDaniels_NG

Instagram: JackDaniels_NG

This event is Strictly 18+ and is supported by Sincity and BeatFM

Your Friends At Jack Daniel's Remind You To Drink Responsibly

VECTOR, DJ HUMILITY, YUNG L, CYNTHIA MORGAN FOR ANOTHER #JACKANDTHEBEATS SHOWDOWN

2014-09-16T11:00:00.001+01:00

ANOTHER #JACKANDTHEBEATS SHOWDOWN WITH VECTOR, DJ HUMILITY, YUNG L and CYNTHIA MORGAN

Jack Daniel's rock themed parties which started in March this year have gone on to become every live music buff's small haven. Past editions have seen Phyno, Sean Tizzle, Reminisce, illBliss, Ese Peters, Clay etc mount the stage and throw down live rock renditions of their hit records.

This month, Jack and the Beats bring another formidable lineup to the fans; Vector, Cynthia Morgan and Yung L alongside DJ Humility with the Kings Band.

Vector speaking on his preparation for the performance said "…how else do you respect music than to make it live…"

If you missed the August edition; this is another opportunity for you to have the #jackandthebeats experience.

Jack and the Beats is a continuation of Jack Daniel's 150-year heritage which includes a long association with music. Please visit www.facebook.com/jackdanielsnigeria for additional information and updates.

Jack and the Beats is open to only individuals 21 years and above. Your friends at Jack Daniel's® remind you to drink responsibly.

Venue: Road Runners Club

Date: September 19, 2014

Time: 10PM

Jack and the beats party with DJ Humility, Vector, iLLbliss, Reminisce

2014-08-13T14:08:00.001+01:00

MUSIC: TOYNNE (@oramusic1) - E DEY SWEET ME FT YEMY

2014-08-02T09:52:00.001+01:00

Toynne is a prolific writer and lyricist; she has written plays, songs, and also has a textbook for primary school pupils to her credit. She is the present CEO of ORA MUSIC LABEL, a record label that is committed to helping upcoming artistes and talented youths.

Toynne is married with children; she loves praising and worshipping God, singing, dancing, reading, writing and travelling. She has a new single tittled, E DEY SWEET ME, a song that blends the contemporary with the ancient in a unique style; the song also features the award winning YEMY TPX and it is produced by the multiple award winning EDWARD SUNDAY.

DIRECT DOWNLOAD

http://k007.kiwi6.com/hotlink/hy2p9t4ur3/E-DEY-SWEET-ME-ft-YEMY.mp3

SPENCER UNVEILS DEBUT TITLED #NISHO

2014-07-29T14:42:00.001+01:00

Spencer is proud to present his official single titled “Nisho” which means Move along. Born in Benin City, Nigeria; he moved to America in his teen years and is currently a pharmacy major student in college. Formerly a member of the music group called Full Blooded Nigerians (FBN), he has moved on and is pursuing his solo career.
The song crafted by growing producer Paul Demsa is backed by commanding drum patterns and synth-heavy guitar arrangements; “Nisho” is an edgy and deliberate effort which sees Spencer adding an infectious chorus to his street slang laden delivery which he is known for in the Dallas, Texas area.

DOWNLOAD: NISHO – Spencer

LamBAtells: SHORT STORIES

2014-05-20T14:01:00.003+01:00

Compilation of small stuff in my head. They don't have titles.

My friend hooked up with this chic, not like a one nighter...she was his girlfriend at that time. So day comes, she's at his house...romance...the room...she gives him head...he touches her...more romance...no sex. He leaves the room for a bit to go get drinks...gets back and she's crying...like practically weeping saying '...we have sinned against God..' He tries to calm her...she won't calm...until they both kneel and ask for forgiveness. They are not together anymore.

2012 started on a groovy note, I got to be in the same room with all the top DJs in Nigeria..think the name, yes he was there...a week after I got a call from Dj Humility that my friend (BJ) had told him about me...this,that...we scheduled a date to meet...we met up with his manager on the island. From the looks of things, I was supposed to A&R/run slight PR for his album...we trashed issues...I wasn't so articulate, but I didn't flop totally...from there we headed to Lekki(prest boat club)...he was supposed to DJ on a yatch so they were checking it out...then headed to Dj Jimmy Jatt's house after which I went back to my own house...the album isn't out yet.

This is about me by the way

My friend was working at a bank. He was on a contract. He never wanted to be treated less so he would always appear at work garbed in the starchiest of shirts + a suit. Drove a nice car too. As such, he was looked at like a 'big boy'. Unknown to him, a certain lady had spotted him. One weekend, some dude added him on BBM from work...mild gist...he asked him about some lady at work..he says shes cool. Another request, its from the lady...oh cool...oya now. Gist gist gist. They meet up and viola! Apparently she's married...one thing led to another led to couple making out led to blowjob + swallow. She then proposed hotel for the main nacking. My nigga ran!!!

This morning 8/12/2013, I saw something that made my morning. I had just crossed the railway lines when this man (traffic warden), very animated guy...started shouting "yi owo! train ti n bo...oun ni yen! Ori e ni yen!" translated "Turn off the tracks, train is coming, there it is, that is the head". The train was still a bit far off though. Now two cars were on the tracks, the first one in front quickly drove to another lane, while the other dude had panicked and was doing his best to drive but his legs had failed him. By this time the train was already near, people had started shouting, the driver guy just panicked more and jumped out, leaving his car. In that moment of coming out of the car, a figure(hero) ran towards the car and attempted to drive it but instead found that pushing the car was faster (there were people/policemen around the car). I was just there laughing my ass off.

I was on my way to work, some dude passed me an handbill...a christian handbill, I collected it and for some reason I held on to it...boarded a bus, sat down. Turned out it was the dude that gave me the handbill...he said I could call numbers on the bill...blah blah blah. I made to pay my fare, and this dude held me back and said he had paid..I'm like ??? Is he trying get fresh with me? Days later, he's hitting me up on phone 'cause i gave him my number. I am yet to pick up.

Just checked my draft and saw this. Apparently its been there for about 7 months
This was supposed to be series of sort of humorous/cynical stories which i never got around to finishing.

LamBAtells: GOING MAD - Picking tins on the journey to Port Harcourt

2014-03-16T19:34:00.000+00:00

#NP OLAMIDE – ELEDA MI

The post title is the literal translation of the Yoruba saying; “Wan sha’golo de Porthar” which is usually directed towards your enemies or detractors. In clearer English: They will pick tins from Lagos to Port Harcourt. This is done while on foot.

Real meaning: Anybody wishing you bad will go mad and start picking tins up and continue doing so till they go far away from you.

In recent times, Yoruba rapper Olamide infused this slang in the chorus of his tune ‘Eleda mi’ and that has kept it resounding in my head in a much more funny fashion. Go listen to that tune.

So I was in Aba in Abia state, which is a border town to Port Harcourt. I have to go through the Aba - PH express road whenever I have to get to my LGA and on the 3rd day or thereabout I noticed that there were quite a number of mentally deranged people on that road. Pardon me, there is/are. One of them even smiled and hailed me in Lagos omo area fashion. Did he know me? Or I him?

I made a mental note to check how many of them were out there. On my way back, I started to count. I lost count abeg. Just then did the saying “Wan sha’golo de Porthar” reoccur in my mind and I realised that it wasn’t so far from the truth!

My statistics: for every 10 – 20meters traveled; there is a mad person there. Picking tins/things on their trek to Port Harcourt. And I’m not overstating all, there are nothing less than 8 ‘run mad’ all the way from the Osisoma roundabout down to Tonimas junction where I frequently passed. It’s a short distance o.

I came to three conclusions though;
(1) Igbo people are more into ‘jazzing’ their people to losing their senses than other forms of misfortune other parts like the Yoruba enforce.
(2) How many people are still on their way, mad and trekking to Port Harcourt?
(3) Port Harcourt must have PLENTY mad people o!

Anyway, as for me and my house, we will not run mad and pick tins on the way Porthar let alone to any place. Somebody say Amen!

Shouts to Ms Perky

LamBAtells: FINE BOY AGBERO (The End)

2014-02-06T11:18:00.003+00:00

Fineboy Agbero was courtesy http://agbero.blogspot.com
I do have a wild imagination but I am not an awesome writer like that.

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Ep 8 [The Monkey returns!!]

2014-01-08T14:24:00.000+00:00

The Monkey Returns!

For two full weeks, I was inside my room. I no fit comot. To even go toilet sef, na wahala. For the first couple of days, I just dey shake for bed. My throat just dry like say na desert dey inside. The kain fear wey dey grip me sef, I no fit describe. So na so I for just die like dat? I for just fly like monkey, enter hell fire straight? Rashidi knocked the door taya, I no gree open. First, him dey try make the tin funny; I no gree. Second, he beg me; I still no gree. Next day, he come back say Agbowo dey find me for park o; I still no answer am. Last-last, he go call Sikira.

Sikira knock my door like say na elephant wan enter. Immediately I heard the knock, I knew it was her. I just jumped from the bed and crouched in one corner. See me o; correct omo-ita, with all the madness in my head: na two women come dey make me fear like dis! Sikira bang the door taya, I no gree open. E remain small make d door comot sef, still I just kpeme for the room.

“TJ, e no go better for your papa o! Your mama go get seven accident! Obatala go quench your grandmamma!!! Sopona go wound your grandpapa for farm!!! TJ, open dis door now!!”

She curse me taya, I no gree. She curse all my family, curse my grandparents, my cousins, my friends. She curse everybody wey know me; she curse everybody wey owe me money and those wey I owe money. She curse all the conductors wey I dey collect money from. She curse all the passengers wey dey enter their bus. She curse everybody, still I no gree comot. Because this Sikira, na to kill me remain for am.

It took Agbowo to get me out of the room. Two weeks had passed and I was still in the room. I only went out during the night to use the toilet. Na d garri wey dey my room I just dey manage drink. Agbowo did not even knock. He just spoke.

“Taju, open dis door now-now!”

The voice be like bomb. I rush open d door kia-kia.

“Ah, Baba, na you!”

He let himself into the room quietly. I hurriedly closed the door behind him.

“So, na because of woman you no wan come park again abi? U dey craze!” One big slap land for my eye. I wan shout but I no fit.

“Sit down,” Agbowo commanded.

The kain talk wey dis man follow me talk dat day, even my papa neva talk am before. He spoke to me like someone who was more than a father; someone superior to a father. He talk better sense into my kolo head.

I went to the park that day.

9:15am
It was like they were welcoming a king! The bastards lined up with sniggers on their faces. They smiled as they shook my hand, a smile that revealed more than they were saying. Once in a while, I’ll hear “flying monkey!” and I would spin around to kill the bastard that said it and everyone would start laughing. Or in their pseudo-conversation:
“Ah, you no watch dat match between Man U and Chelsea? Var der Saar just dey fly like monkey!”
Another false conversation:
“Lai-lai! I fit bet my salary on am! Monkey fit fly faster than bird!”
Ok, I get it, you bastards!

2:13pm
My first shift don end. I dey under the shed dey relax with Mufu and Rashidi. Agbowo seat one corner dey drink stout. His transistor radio dey blast “Ori e o f’oka sibe!” I was almost dozing when I felt the sky grow darker. Kilode? I opened my eyes and there in front of me, looking as radiant as ever, was Bolatito! Tito baby! I scrambled to my feet and made to run. My heart jumped against my ribcage. Mufu and Rashidi too also backed off.
“Teeeee-Jaaay!”
The way she said my name was so silky! Kai!
“Tj, abeg no run from me, I no be witch.”
I no fit talk.
Slowly, she came towards me and knelt at my feet holding on to my legs. Kai! Dis gal dey fall my hand o! There were tears in her eyes.
“TJ, abeg make I explain.”
And explain she did. She told me how she had been trying to get in touch with me but hear say I no come park. And she dey fear make she come my house. But today she hear say I don come park. (Kai, did they announce my return on radio??!!) She also explained how she had gone back home to find out about what happened and discovered it was her aunty she had been living with in Ekiti that put the magun on her. The woman had always accused her of being a flirt, when na boys dey always chase am and she no dey give them face.
In short, as she dey talk, she dey rub my knee, my calf, my feet. Her face was pressed against my belly! Chei! Before I know, my agidi don disappear. Meself come dey pet am. I dey smile like fish, dey talk nonsense. Tito gave me a look that was suggestive and I catch the look quick-quick. As I approached Agbowo to ask for permission to go home, he just smiled and shook his head.
Before you fit say “God-punish-Flying-Monkey” we don reach house!
Baba Odeku was outside the house fixing something in his bus. He jumped when he saw us together!
“TJ! Tito! You people again?”
“Baba, no worry everything dey kampe.”
“Kampe ke?” He looked at Tito.
Tito nodded. “Dem don remove am for village, Baba.”
Baba Odeku just shook his head. Idiot man! Because he just save me one-time, he think say he be my papa?
Tito and I practically dragged each other into my room. We tore at each other’s clothes as we landed on the bed.

[[Parental Guidance: Text not visible to readers under 50]]

We lay on the bed exhausted, but with enough energy to go again. Indeed, the tin no dey for her body anymore! I no crow like cock. I no drink water like fish. I no fly like money again!

Slowly, with Tito’s caress, I felt my thing dey rise again. Tito gripped my tin for hand, press am tight! I winced but the pain dey pleasurable. Slowly, I felt her body slide down mine and her mouth felt wet and silky on my thing! Kai! Sikira never do dis one before o!!! In fact nobody ever do me dis one before! Ah, na wetin dem dey call blow-job be dis?? The enjoyment dey too much, I just dey scream like lunatic. But next thing na:

Gbam!!!

The remaining things happen for slow motion:

The door burst open. (We no even remember lock am!) Sikira stood there with her mouth wide open! Her breasts heaved like a locomotive. She looked at my face then at Tito. Tito’s mouth was still on the tip of my koboko. The look of terror on her face was almost edible. Nobody moved for like 10seconds. We were all just too shocked. But, like the tiger she is, Sikira was the first to pounce. With a fierce cry, she dealt Tito a blow across the face. Tito scattered into one corner. She jumped on me and grabbed my thing, pinching and squeeze my balls!

“Yeeeeeeeeepaaaaaaaaaaa!!!” My scream must have reached up to heaven for Baba Odeku flew in moments later.
“Sikira, stop am!!!”
“Ah!!! I go comot this him yeye thing today!!!!”
But Sikira no wan stop o; she just dey drag me around the room with my thing. I would jerk and she would pull. She would pinch and I’d jerk back. Like we were in an accursed pantomime. She had murder in her eyes. Sadly, my thing refused to go down; the bastard was still erect! And dat intensified the pain!
Baba Odeku pleaded with Sikira, she no gree o. When he tried to wrestle my thing from her grip, the pain only increased. I screamed harder.

It was Tito that would finally rescue me.

She found one big stick wey I dey use kill rat. With her veins straining against her skin, she nack d stick for Sikira head!

Gbosaaaa!!! I even heard a crack. The stick or Sikira’s head?

Sikira slumped to the floor. My thing shrank instantaneously. Baba Odeku put his hands on his head.

“Yeeeepa!!! You don kill am!! You don kill am o!” The bastard man was jumping up and and down like a puppet. Tito ran to me and held me tight, her eyes wide with fear. We all stood back as if a taboo was in front of us. Me, I wanted to shrink into the wall! Wetin I go talk for police station? Say my girlfriend kill my girlfriend? Which kain yeye story be dat!

Baba Odeku was surprisingly the first person to recover. “E be like say she never die o,” he said cautiously. He moved towards her and put his head on her juicy breasts.

“Her heart dey beat.”

Hallelujah! But the bastard man no comot him head o. The idiot was tapping current! Agbaya!

Like those zombies do in those movies, Sikira stretched out her hands, from the dead, and grabbed Baba Odeku’s neck!!! Both of them screamed with different purposes.

Tito and I grabbed our clothes and raced out of the house! Our screams were with single purpose!

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Ep7[Flying Monkey]

2013-12-31T14:23:00.000+00:00

I don hear tales of the Flyin Monkey but I no dey believe am. E be like one of those Urban Myths were papa and mama dey use scare us in those days. Like the myth of drinking garri and eating mango and dying instantly! Like the myth of plucking an eyelash and a strand of hair from your head, placing dem in a paper and letting your parents step on it to forget whatever punishment they were going to visit on you. Like the myth of beating a boy with omorogun or broom and his kini will disappear. Like the myth of fingers growing in your belly if you “collected” sweet or biscuit from a witch girl in your class…

Like the myth of the Flyin’ Monkey.

I didn’t believe it. Not until it happened to me. Again, I swear by my mother’s life, I swear on the graves of my forefathers, I swear by my father’s kini: this is how it happened. And it happened to me.

Remember Iya Sidikat the paraga woman? Her father died and she had to go to Ekiti for the burial. The woman comot for like 5 days and we all wan die! No paraga, nothing! How we suppose survive? We already don wan go contract another paraga seller when the woman “shop” open suddenly. But it wasn’t the woman that was there o.

See, my Sikira is very fine, as in very fine. She fine pass LG, Rayo, Bumight, Icequeen, and all those gals I dey chase for Blogville. Her lips sexy pass Smaragd’s. (Or are they?) Ok, my Sikira fine sha. But see, this gal wey dey sell paraga for Iya Sidikat was something else. Kai! Ori iya mi Eleko o!!! This gal yellow like oyinbo. The twins on her chest point out like… like what sef? The thing no get mate! Her bakassi nko? Olopa o!!! The only tin wey spoil dis gal na the tiger marks wey dey her face. Why some parents dey craze like dat? See fine gal like dis, u come design her face with three long deep marks for each cheek? Nevertheless, these marks no make dis gal ugly o. Infact, na the marks make her more tantalizing.

Kia-kia, awon boys don dey make moves. Mufu, Rasaki, even Agbowo wey don marry! Yeepa! Come see fight as people dey struggle to buy paraga. People spend all their money on buying paraga just to talk to the gal. But the gal no even utter one word o! Na so she just dey look. Ask am anything, she go just nod or shake head, or dash you your change. The intrigue come increase. Boys dey vow to be the first one to make her talk. The end result was: everybody was drunk by noon. Too much paraga! Everybody. Of course, except me!

Before nko? I dey plan my strategy now. As everybody dey struggle with am during the day, me I just pam dey look. Of course, I dey buy my paraga o, but just my usual share. I no dey follow the gal talk sef. I just buy my tin comot. Slowly, mesef dey build my own mystic na. As per fine boy again, wetin remain?

So, on the third day of the gal’s take-over of our park, I approached her after “work” and offered to help her pack up. Being the first time I’d talk to her, she nodded invitingly. I helped her pack and carried some stuff for her. I began to walk her home. I didn’t speak for the first ten minutes.

“Wetin be your name?” she asked. I was surprised! Ehn? She spoke? She asked for my name?!

“Em…em.. my…my name na… Ta… o ti o! My name na TJ!”

She chuckled as I stuttered.

“You nko?” I asked.

“Bolatito.”

“Bolatito,” I repeated. There was a hint of the Ekiti accent in her voice but it sounded sexy to me. Kai!

We were nearing her place.

“Bolatito, wetin u dey do tonight?”

“Hmm… nothing.”

“Oya, make we go chop pepper-soup for Mama Chukwudi place now? Please!”

She smiled and nodded.

“Ok, I go come pick you by 8pm. Is that okay?”

She smiled and nodded again.

I dashed away like a 100-meter sprinter. Straight home to freshen up. I arrange the room, set up everything, spray air-freshener. I check my “rubber” stash. I still had like 25 packets. Oya now!

Make I no long the story, after the wonderful pepper soup, which she liked, me and am just go pam for one corner like dat. The corner was actually Imma’s closed shop. It was dark. And it was close to my place. Na so Bolatito and I dey corner dey talk jeje to each other. I tell am say I like am, she say she like me too. We just dey talk slow-slow. Na so I attempt to kiss the gal o. She no even dodge. Her lips were soft. Like what sef? E no get mate! My spine tingled… but my mind was alert. First, Sikira must not catch me. Two, I gats comot for here. Na so I carry the gal comot. Oya to my house.

Make I no long the story again: we land for bed. My wicked hands found her wicked chest-twins. I caress dem like say my life depend on am. Na so she dey moan soft soft o. Gradually, we enter advance stage. Clothes don go finish. (she no wear underwear, kai!!! Sexy!!!) Rubber don cover kini. Oya, make I enter, the gal dey push me back small-small.

“Hmm…TJ…hmmm…. I no wan do o…” Voice soft like feather!

“Tito baby…no worry… I dey kampe….”

“No be dat…hmmm… I neva do before o…”

What?! Alarm-bells in my head! Virgin alert! One part of my mind say make I leave am o. Wetin I wan take V do? Second say make I carry go jo! Afterall, na my first V be dis. Besides, all the boys want dis one o; if I leave am, someone else go take am!

Na so I listen to the first voice o. I calm d gal, carry on with my “evil deed.”

It was the best sex I had ever had. The gal was willing. She kept pulling me to herself and screaming like a cat. Three times, we do di thing. Sikira? Only once sef, she go complain say she don tire.

It was the best sex I had ever had. And the most dangerous.

As we lay on the bed dey rub each other’s body, na so I dey feel one kain for inside. My had just dey grow bigger. My eyes sef no see well. Next thing na:

“Kukurukuuuuuuuuuuuu!”

For where?!!! I had just crowed like a cock! Bolatito jumped up. I jumped up. Alarm was all over her face. Me, I still no dey see well. Suddenly, I had dis urge to drink water.

“Water! Water!!!” I was screaming. I ran to my keg where I kept drinkable water. See, dis is a 5-litre keg, filled with water. See, I lifted dis keg to my mouth and drank like a fish. It was as if the water was evaporating the moment it hit my throat. Within seconds, I had finished the whole keg and my throat was still burning! I threw the keg madly in one corner. With only my boxers on, I ran out of the room. Bolatito just stared, my wrapper clutched around her chest.

Rashidi and others were seated outside enjoying the night breeze when I burst out and staggered to the ground. I race for the water drum at the corner of the house. I tore the lid off and dipped my head into the drum of water. It wasn’t sufficient. I turned the drum and emptied the content on my head, with my mouth open. It was still not enough. Next thing:

“Kukurukuuuuuuuuuuuu!”

The boys rallied around me.

“TJ, wetin do you? So na u dey crow like cock since?” Rashidi asked. Some of the boys laughed, not realizing my predicament. I rolled on the floor, screaming for water. Suddenly, the water urge disappeared, replaced with a yearning to fly. I stood up and grinned. I staggered back to prepare for a run. With a dash, I did a perfect somersault and landed on my stomach. The boys laughed.

I staggered back again and prepared for my next run. Oya now! Another perfect somersault and a belly flop!

Oya, number three. Something propelled me to speed up Number 3. I staggered back again and ran…

“Hold him!!!!!!!!!!” The voice was so urgent it even pierced through my madness. I was already in the air when several hands snatched at me and stopped me mid-flight. I struggled against their grip. I just had to do Number 3. It was Baba Odeku. His face was a mask of concern.

“Oya, carry him into my room. Don’t leave him o!”

I had never entered Baba Odeku’s room before. It was like a shrine. Different concoctions hung everywhere. The boys lay me on the mat and I still wriggled, trying to get out of their hold. Baba Odeku brought out a white stone and placed it on my forehead. Immediately, a calmness washed over me.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“In my room,” I whispered. The boys looked at each other, perplexed.

“Rashidi, go and fetch her.” Rashidi raced out. He returned with Bolatito in seconds. The boys gasped and exchanged surprised looks.

“Oya, everybody out!” Reluctantly, the boys all left.

Baba Odeku pulled Bolatito to one side and they talked in hushed tones. I couldn't’ hear what was said, but Baba Odeku’s voice was questioningly stern. He came to me and placed the stone on my forehead again. This time, I drifted off to sleep….

When I woke up, I was still in Baba Odeku’s room. My head was on Bolatito’s lap and she was caressing my forehead. Baba Odeku smiled at me as I looked at him.

“You are alright now,” he merely said.

And so, I had become a victim of the Flyin’ Monkey. Oh, some of you know it as Magun, some as Thunderbolt. Some, as other names. But amongst the boys and I, we knew it as Flyin’ Monkey.

And my new nickname? Flyin’ Monkey!

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Ep6 [A Sombre Sunday Tale]

2013-12-23T14:06:00.000+00:00

A Sombre Sunday Tale

(In honour, or dishonour, of Sunday, who brought dishonour to the agbero profession and died three days later in a police cell)

This is the lifecycle of a normal agbero.
He is a boy born into a poor family which usually lives in a face-to-face room. As a youth, he is burdened with the task of fending for himself because his dad has his younger ones to take care of. Of course, he attends secondary school, where he loves to sit at the back because he is tired of the wicked teachers and their intrusive ways. Then the teachers compound his problem by chasing him out of class for not possessing a needed textbook or for disturbing the class. He goes on to hang around with other boys like him, under the mango tree or in the abandoned classroom, or on the other side of the school fence, not so far from where a group of rough street urchins are smoking weed or selling it. They offer him a wrap for free and he takes the bait. Everyday, he smokes and talks large with them. But he still attends school because his mother is on his neck, pleading with him to finish his education and become somebody in life. Finally, he sits for the final exams and fails woefully because he hadn’t been going to class. Or he didn’t even write the exam because he had no money. Or he didn’t even write the exams because it was “chicken” to be seen in a school uniform with the “small-small” boys. While waiting for the GCE exams, he tries to supplement the family income by joining his weed-smoking friends at the park.
Initially, he is a bit cultured so he becomes a bus conductor. He does this for some nine months, and his gestation period is over. He moves, at the beckoning of his weed-smoking friends, unto a higher level by calling passengers for buses instead of being the conductor. This way he can get cuts from each driver instead of from one. Then one of the boys collecting the park levies disappears and he has to fill in. This job is higher than the two previous ones, so he relishes it. Within, a year and half, he has forgotten completely about school. Within this period, he has also changed his name into a more befitting one: Scorpion, Tiger, Lion, or any other animal; Razor, Dagger, Broken Bottle, or any other sharp instrument; or outright frightening names like Jangola, Eje, Mascara, Iku Baba Yeye, etc. And an agbero is born. He is a carnivore in the new jungle of life. He is a hyena and he goes forth to fatten himself. And his prey is the hapless bus driver.
As much as people detest us and our rough looks, they cannot but admit our usefulness. Indeed, the levies we collect are not all channeled into private pockets (and government coffers). Some funds are dedicated to improving the conditions of the parks and sometimes the roads. And besides, we only harass the drivers; we are helpful to other people, especially passengers. Several times, we have ordered drivers to reduce the bus fares they had just inflated because of the volume of people at the bus stop. And many times, we have helped stupid people like you find your way in the jungle of the meandering streets. And why do you think that the rate of armed robberies suddenly died down? Oh, you think the robbers stopped coming to knock at your door in the middle of the night because the wonderful police force is doing a wonderful job? Well, no. All the potential armed robbers are now agberos. And pray we remain so, else you might be visited every night and, sometimes, every morning.

Sunday did not remain so. He did not honour his calling. He, a sheep of not-so-white fleece, dined with the pigs. And he doing so, he caused the agbero community great problems.

******

When I got to the park the following day, after my dethroning in the police cell, I met people gathered in pockets speaking in hush tones. No one was doing anything; the drivers and conductors were driving past like free men, not paying a kobo to anyone.
Rashidi was standing in a corner with some other boys.
“Wetin dey happen? Why anybody no work?”
Rashidi shook his head as he answered, “Yawa don gas o. Police just leave here now-now. Dem carry Agbowo and anybody else wey dem see.”
“Dem dey craze? Why?”
“We no know o. But we dey hear something about Sunday sha.”
“Sunday ke? But the guy dey cell now.”
“Yes ke.”
It was all so baffling. Wetin concern Agbowo with Sunday? Were the police as crazy as they were called? Five minutes later, Scorpion’s V-Boot zoomed into the park. People dispersed and converged on the car. Scorpion alighted like a king.
“Baba o!” the chorus ran through the morning air.
Scorpion’s eyes were black behind the eye-glasses he wore. Black, not red. His lips were chapped: constant igbo.
“Eyin temi, how far?” he asked, his voice as thick as thunder.
“Baba, we no know o.”
“No shaking. I hear say ascari come here come carry Agbowo and my boys. No worry, na play dem dey play. Na play now. Abi no be play?”
When no one answered, he continued.
“If no be play, dem no go try am. Becos if dem serious, na ten-ten policemen go die for each of my boys wey dem arrest. For Agbowo sef, na fifty. Haha, dem no fit now. Dem fit? Dem fit pull devil for prick? Dem fit suck madman for breast? Iya won! Won o t’obe!”
Scorpion’s words were hard, and they pounded our hearts soft. Slowly, as he spoke, we began to believe that we were indeed the kings of the land. He spoke of great things: great things like burning down fifty police stations. Great things like stopping traffic for five hours of Ikorodu Road. Great things like having the governor lie flat on his chest to beg him. And we believed him. Why? Because he could do it. I swear by my forefathers! I swear by my mother’s life! I swear by my father’s kini: Scorpion could slap God in the face if he wanted to.
“TJ, Jaguda, Aja Dudu, Ekun! Follow me!”
I was startled when I heard my name. I didn’t even know that Scorpion knew I existed let alone know my name. And why would he call me, of all people, to follow him on a mission to the police station? Gazes of admiration tore my shirt as I staggered into the V-Boot. The four of us crammed ourselves into the back seat while Scorpion settled in front. Once the doors were shut, Scorpion’s driver screeched and tore off like a demon.

******
The car zoomed into the Area G police station as if the president were in it. Policemen scattered out of the path of the angry vehicle. Scorpion jumped down and we quickly followed suit. No one attempted to stop us or ask questions. They just stared. They stared and waited. Their gazes pushed at us as we stormed into the police station.
The desk-sergeant on duty scrambled away from his seat and dashed up the stairs when he saw Scorpion. I chuckled. Scorpion kept a straight face. He was probably used to that kind of treatment. The sergeant didn’t come back. It was the DPO that came down the stairs instead.
“Scorpy, Scorpy!”
“No Scorpy me o! No Scorpy me at all at all.”
“Ahn-ahn, Scorpy, cool down now. No be fight now.”
“No be fight? You lock up my men and you talk say no be fight?”
“Scorpy, you no trust me? I no go lock up your men now. Na just small interrogation we invite dem for.”
Scorpion was done with the drama. He beckoned to me and the other guys.
“Oya, go and bring Agbowo and the remaining!”
We dashed inside amidst the feeble protests of the DPO. A constable was waiting for us at the cell gate already. He opened the gate without a word. Agbowo stood up from a corner in equal silence and three boys followed him. They were mere collectors like me, but their shoulders were hunched high into heaven at the honour of being incarcerated with Agbowo. Agbowo patted my back and grinned at me.
Scorpion led us all out. The DPO was standing in the middle of the room, saying nothing. The only words Scorpion finally uttered were: “We go settle this for meeting.”
Which meeting? What was all this about? I had heard of Scorpion’s immense power, but I had imagined nothing like this. A direct face-off with the DPO, right in the police station? Right in Area G! Lai-lai! As unbelievable as it was, it had just happened under my very nose.

*******
Later in the evening, when everything had died down and Agbowo was in a lighter mood, he told me what had gone down with Sunday.
Apparently, Sunday had been doing shady runs for quite some time. But his end was to come on the day of his last robbery. He was allegedly a member of a four-man gang which specialized in home robberies. Though most of the details was still fuzzy, Sunday and his gang had attempted to rob the house of a commissioner’s son. Their target had just returned from the club with his friends, when Sunday and his boys drove in behind them. They laid siege to the house and ordered the boys inside. Unfortunately, their victim had a security detailed assigned to him by his father: a former Biafran soldier who was as skilled with his gun as other people were skilled with shitting. The rest was history. Sunday and his gang stood no chance against a man who had fought tactically in the jungle. Two of the gang members died while Sunday and another were seriously wounded. The police arrived much later to claim their prize.
But according to Agbowo, Sunday was transferred to Panti early the next morning I had seen him at the cell. But before he was, the police had tortured him. In a bid to ease the wahala on his head, Sunday had given the police the names of people he claimed were their “baba isale.” No, he didn’t mention Agbowo’s name, though he gave the names of other high-ups in the Agbero ranks. The police had only been rash in rounding up Agbowo and others.
“But wetin come dey concern us so much na whether those people wey Sunday mention dey rob true-true.”
“Ah, dat one no go good o…”
“E dey worse than no-good o. Agbero no fit dey associated with robbery. E go just destroy our name and our work. Make I no lie you, whenever we discover say any agbero dey into robbery, na we ourself dey kill dem. Otherwise, dem o just spoil our name.”
Agbowo’s words chilled me. Ehn? Kill dem ke? Men, the matter don pass serious o.
“You know why Scorpy brought you to the station?”
“Baba, no o.”
“Be happy o. Dat na sign say he gbadun you. But be careful sha: very soon, you go get promotion.”
The events of the past few days were quite disturbing. But amidst it all, here was Agbowo telling me that Scorpy, the head of all the agberos for Lagos, found some use for me. Kai! I should have been happy, but my joy was diluted. With fear.

******
My fear turned into respect and back to fear when news was broken the next morning at the park.
Sunday had died at Panti.
They said he was tortured to death in a bid to extract information from him. But I knew that the bastards at Panti, though wicked, knew how to keep a man alive.
My innermost fear told me that Sunday had been murdered. Was he murdered to keep him silent, or was he killed as a vendetta for disgracing the agbero clan? The happiness of Agbowo throughout the day was a clue that offered nothing. Instead, it took my mind off Sunday, into the giant invisible room that loomed with a million and one secrets…

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Ep 5 [Prison Chronicles: Three Kings]

2013-12-17T12:30:00.000+00:00

Prison Chronicles: Three Kings

There were two kings in the cell. I always heard that some tough guy controlled the activities on the cell, but in this cell, there were two ogas. Like having two agberos collecting the same money from a conductor.
The policemen had shouted at me all through, punctuating their curses with slaps and kicks.

“Bastard! Na inside cell you go die! Your papa go join you for here for him burial. Na here u go born your first pikin. Na here you….”

This sergeant went on and on. He was the one I had broken his head. They stripped me of my clothes, leaving just my boxers. All my money don go. Dem come talk say make I write statement. The silly part na say na dem dey tell me wetin I go write.

“Oya, write say you collect my gun, you wan shoot me, but I overpower you, you come break my partner’s head.”

Sho? Me? Dem think say I dey craze? Write wetin?

“Oga, me I no write anything o. I want my lawyer?”

“Lawyer? You dey craze? Nobody dey give anybody lawyer here o. Lawyer ko, lawyer ni!”

We drag am o: write, lawyer, write, lawyer, write…

After dem see say I no gree to write anything, dem drag me into the cell, where the two kings were waiting for me, worse than vultures urging a prey to die….

*****

They formed two teams at opposite corners of the cell. The two kings each sat on a small stool, smoking weed, while their followers – four each – crowded around them, taking turns to fan their masters. It was like a silent mini-war was going on. Once in a while, threats would fly across the room. Once, a man rose from each group and fought at the centre. It was almost a fight to the death, with blood flowing from bleeding heads and each man ending the fight only when they were completely exhausted and unable to fight. The police officers even came to watch at one point, hailing the fellow they rooted for.

I must have been there for over two hours, just sitting away from the two groups. No one even did as if I had entered the room. And na dat one even fear me pass. But the worst never even start. Suddenly, the one on the right spoke.

“Wetin you bring come for your master?”

The other king immediately replied.

“Shut up! Na me be him master!”

I swallowed hard.

“Obe, be careful o! No start wetin you no fit finish o!”

“Sere! Your mama no fit, you small man!”

Both men had stood up; their voices boomed in my head. Sere stood on his stool. He appeared to really be a small man. A police officer screamed from the counter.

“Obe! Sere! Cool down o! We wan sleep.”

The two men backed down.

“We fight on him then,” Obe said.

Sere laughed.

Fight on me ke? The four men from each team stood up and advanced towards me. I took a crouching position. They meant what they said: they were not going to fight for me o, they were going to fight on me! The eight pounced on me.

They fought against each other and they all fought me. It was a crazy fight. One wey I neva see before. These guys dey craze? I stood my ground o. The vex wey I dey vex from the police beating just dey rise in me like say he wan burst. I screamed like an alarm clock, throwing punches and kicks all around. Because the guys don waste dem energy on fighting each other, e dey easy for me to overcome them. Soon, the eight men stood in a circle around me, panting and heaving and not daring to make a move.

“This one na ultimate warrior o,” Sere remarked.

“You never see…” I replied. My head don crazy. I no know wetin come over me o, but the next thing, I scattered the men aside and charged at Obe. Obe was taken off guard, and besides the guy don lord over people so tay he don weak for body. He still sat on his stool as I got to him, his fat body covering the whole stool as if he sat in mid-air. Before he could say kilode my fist connected to his jaw. He let out a loud grunt as he fell on his back. He didn’t get up.

The eight men looked at him, speechless, as I turned and headed towards Sere. It was funny: Sere was actually a midget! A mere bastard dwarf! Na dat one even vex me pass. Dis baba kukuru was controlling boys to come fight me? But the guy na real coward o. He shrieked and darted around the room, his hand thrown into the air.

“Dis one na mad man o! Officer, na mad man you carry come o!”

He ran behind his men, and everybody shrank as I approached. Obe was still out.

“Listen, all you people! My name na Taju; go ask for me for garage. I no care who una be o! I ready to die!!! And I ready to die with all of una!”

“Broda, no vex now,” one of the eight minions said.

Kai, na so prison easy? Or na so-so sissies dem dey bring come prison these days? I thought quickly.

“How dis Obe become oga for here?”

Sere answered, “Me sef no know! But he don become oga even before I come here. He don dey here tay-tay o!”

“You nko?”

It was another guy who replied, “Ah! Sere? Na killer o! Dem talk say him kill three men with him bare hands!” His eyes were wide as he spoke. As if he was talking about a legend. I looked at the Sere and wondered if he could kill a rat with a trap.

“Ehn, me sef I don become oga be dat!”

Na so I become king for prison o! On my first night! On my first trip. Kai! They “allocated” two men to me, one from each group and promised that any new “fish” would be mine. Meanwhile, since there was no extra stool, one of my followers got on all fours and I sat on his back. Sere provided a cigarette. I puffed away like Puff Daddy. Ah! Enjoyment galore.

When Obe woke up, he couldn't believe his eyes and ears. He screamed and raved. He meant to fight me and I stood up to meet him. He seemed to think better of it when he noticed that Sere was not objecting. He calmed down and the night progressed. Nobody could sleep really, after all that excitement.

“How you take reach here?” I asked the boy behind me, who was fanning me steadily with old newspaper.

“Na wa o. Na my papa put me for here o. Me and some boys for area arrange on how to steal the transformer. One way sha, the landlord association catch us. Dem just talk say make we pay to replace the transformer o, but my papa own too much. He talk say I no go learn if I no spend one week for cell. I don dey here for five days now.”

“Good for you!”

“You nko?” I asked my stool.

“I break my oga shop.”

“Dat’s all?”

“Yes now. I break the shop, carry the electronics wey dey there go sell. But na him friend I sell the goods to and I no know. Now I dey here.”

The three followers of Sere were brought in just tonight.

“We were just walking on the street jeje o, when police van just park. Dem drag us inside, talk say we dey wander. For past ten? When we reach here, dem talk say make we bail ourselves with 1500 each,” the first one said.

The third one butted in, “Na me talk say make we no pay. Dem don catch me before. Me I no go pay dem kobo! See, when 5am reach now, dem go reduce the money to 1000. By 6am, na 500. By 7am, na free!”

“How come?”

“No be illegal job dem dey do? Dem oga must not come here in the morning and see us here. We no commit any crime now.”

The second one just sat there quietly, huddled together.

“Bros, u nko?” I asked one of Obe’s men.

Obe retorted, “Mr Man, face your kingdom o!”

I no argue. Na true he kuku talk. I told my boys wetin me I do.

“Ehn? You beat Olopa? You break police head?”

They were all in awe. Even Sere who had “killed” three men. Dis people wey dey dis cell no be criminal at all. Petty thieves and small time offenders dem all be. Dem no fit pull devil for prick…

5:12am

We were dozing when cries and screams woke us up around 5am. Armed police men were dragging two half-dead men into the cell. They threw them into the centre of the cell and exited joyfully, congratulating one another. One policeman lingered and addressed The Three Wanderers.

“You no go bail yourself? Oya, come bail 1000 make you dey go home.”

“Oga, we no get money!” the three chorused.

“Okay now. Then we go charge you go court for morning. Stay there ehn.”

When the policeman had gone, the Stubborn Wanderer said, “See? I told you!”

“Wetin dem come drop here?” Sere asked.

Obe looked closely and exclaimed, “Armed robbers!”

We were all puzzled. “How you take know?”

“See dem legs now. Police don break their knee with gun. Na only armed robbers dem dey do dat to now.”

One of the two figures stirred. He let out a wail. He raised his head and I could have recognized that head anywhere.

“Sunday?”

He looked in my direction, half-delirious, half-puzzled that someone could know him. He let out another wail and fell back to the floor. He didn’t stir again.

7:26am

The Stubborn Wanderer was right. With shoves and angry looks, two policemen drove the wandering party out of the cell and set them free. A minute later, another policeman came back.

“Who be Taju?”

“Na me!”

“Follow me, bastard!”

I bade a quick farewell to Obe and Sere. Sere immediately took charge of his former followers.

Agbowo and Sikira were waiting for me at the counter. Agbowo tried to look angry but he couldn’t manage it. He smiled when he saw me. Sikira tried to rush towards me, but a policeman stood in the way.

“This boy dey lucky o. If not for you, Mr Agbowo, we no go let am go o.”

I took possession of my clothes. My money was gone, but I didn’t mind. Bastards!

“Taju-Taju! You wan kill police ehn?” Agbowo said, patting my back as we exited the police station. Sikira held my hand tight.

In Agbowo’s car, he told me that they had paid the police 10,000 for my bail and an extra 5,000 to the policeman I had wounded as compensation.

“But no wahala, TJ, you no be dat kain person. You be our own man. And never never forget dat.”

My head swelled with gratitude. Agbowo dropped off Sikira and me at my house.

“Ehn-ehn, Agbowo, I see Sunday for inside cell o. Dem talk say na armed robber.”

“No so we see am o, TJ. No worry, we go give you the full gist when you come park. You fit take the day off today sha. Just relax, ehn?”

I thanked him a million times more as he drove off. Sikira led me in to take care of me.

Enough galala thereafter. I can’t shout… ;-)

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Ep4 [Hancock]

2013-12-11T14:30:00.000+00:00

Hancock

Sikira beg me tire, I no gree o. Imagine now, after all I’ve done for this babe, she still go punish me for that yeye church. I don vow say, lailai, me and dat girl no go get anything again. But as you know now, every guy na maga and every girl na yahoo-yahoo; we must fall for their scams.

It was easy anyway. She went for the physical. Sikira showed up at my door one cold evening, looking like she just dropped out of a music video. Kai! This girl was wearing one sinfully short mini-skirt and a top with a low neckline. Maybe na wondebra or something, but the way those things on her chest stood out…

“Hi TJ." Em… em… can I come in?”

Before nko? I don’t forget say I dey vex with am sef. She entered and went straight to sit on the bed. There was this shy smile on her face. Ah, woman! Woman!

She went on her knees, further exposing those juicy mounds in her top. “TJ, no vex now. You know say I love you.”

I no even hear wetin she dey talk. My eyes were glued to where they should be. Finally, I found my voice.

“But, Sikky, you know say you mess up now. Ehn?”

“I know. No vex now.” She stood up and came towards me. Kai!

[Okay, okay, e don do sef! Wetin una wan hear again? We danced galala. We danced enough galala! Abi, no be wetin you dey wait for? Oya, bye, bye!]

Thursday 7:15pm

Never underestimate the power of a woman o. Sounds clichéd abi? Well, that’s because it’s true! With all the madness wey I get for head, it took just Sikira to make me agree, like a boy, to things I’d never have agreed to. After the romp of yesterday, when I was lying on my bed with Sikira in my arms and my thing doing my thinking for me, Sikira rubbed my chest and said I would take her to Silverbird.

See, she didn’t ask o. She said. She stated. And I nodded. I didn’t argue.

But wait. Take my hard-earned money -- money that I earned with curses and fights – and go use it to watch a movie at the cinema? Lailai! Imagine now: 1500! 1500 to watch one movie! When them dey sell the VCD for under bridge at 100 bucks pere! How now?

But here was I agreeing to Sikira’s commands. 1500 X 2. Plus transport.

It was too late by the time my brain took over affairs from my thing. Na dat time the yeye brain come dey wok. I was determined to cut all costs by all means necessary. So, I went to Slow Motion. Slow Motion plies the CMS route. From CMS, the guy dey enter Eko Hotel/Bar Beach and na in front of the cinema dem go pass. So, for his evening trip around seven o’clock, I booked the two front seats. At least, we go ride 1st class!

Sikira was wearing another brain-stealer, and truly, functional activities transferred from up in my head to down in my groin. My smile was as wide as a pumpkin. Jack O’ lantern style. This time, it was a butt-hugging black mini with a top that screamed come-get-me. She even had a perfume on. Na wa o! Only me? Chei!

Slow Motion was waiting for us at the garage. When he saw Sikira, his eyes bulged.

“Shiki baby. Shiki Shiki!” He had this thick Yoruba accent. And tiger-claw tribeless marks.

Sikira gave him her shy smile. “How now, SM?”

“Ah, baby! I dey fine o. You and TJ—”

“Slow Mo, e don do! Thank you. Oya, make we go.”

“Ahn-ahn, TJ, cool down na!”

“Cool down ke? You dey craze? I go break your head o!” And I was ready to! Slow Motion saw the murder in my eyes and quickly gave himself some brain. To be sure, I let Sikira sit by the window while I placed myself between Slow Motion on the driver’s seat and Sikira.

Sikira looked a little uncomfortable.

“Baby, wetin?”

“But, TJ… why we no fit enter taxi now?”

“Ehn, taxi ke! Dat one na gbese now! Besides, Slow Motion will get there faster than any taxi.”

And that was true. Slow Motion wasn’t called slow motion because he was slow. He got that name by always referring to other drivers as driving in slow motion. The guy could floor the accelerator between bus stops. It was always fun riding with him sha. Dangerous fun, though. Two conductors had in the past fell off his bus due to his speed. Several passengers had terminated their tips halfway to leave his demented bus. But Slow Motion always gets his job done. He knew how to outwit the police and LASTMA people. He knew how to bully other drivers in go-slows.

Na so the journey start o. And small time, one man dey scream say I-wan-get-down-o, I-wan-get-down-o! One thing, one thing sha.

“But oga, no bus stop for here o,” Aja Dudu, Slow Motion’s conductor, bellowed.

“See as your driver dey speed. Me, I no wan die. Abeg, park let me get down!”

Slow Motion applied the breaks suddenly. People shrieked in their seats. The man alighted.

“Oga, you never pay na,” Aja Dudu challenged.

“Pay for wetin? From where to where?”

“Ahhhhh!!! Ogbeni, ma se wree o! Fun mi lowo jo!”

I turned in my seat to watch the unfolding drama. The man was one Ibo Chap with a coconut head and dubious eyes. He wore a 419 suit with a crooked tie.

“I no go pay o! Lailai.”

Slow Motion was getting impatient. “AJ, make we go now.”

Aja Dudu wasn’t going to back off without a fight.

“You no go pay abi?” Before the man could say yes or no, Aja Dudu pulled sharply at the tie, dragging the screaming chap around. With a vicious force, Aja Dudu kicked the legs from under the fellow. He fell to the ground with a thud. Slow Motion gunned the vehicle; Aja Dudu leapt on and we zoomed off.

“Anybody else wan get down?” Aja Dudu asked. No one spoke.

Slow Motion dropped us off at Solomon Bus Stop, right beside the cinema. Sikira stepped out gingerly. I jumped off like a Chairman. Slow Motion winked at me and zoomed off with a squeal of tyres.

Sikira held my arm and I saw that other girls dey hold their guys like that. Hmm, dis girl sabi something small o. Eyes turned as we passed, most lingering on Sikira. No yawa now. Dem fit look. If dem papa born dem well, make dem come near!

“You sabi the way?” I asked Sikira. She nodded.

Na so dis girl carry me go escalator o. What? I never ride on this kain thing before o, and as the metal dey fold into metal, I dey fear to step on am.

“Dem no get stairs?”

“Come on, TJ, no embarrass me for here o.”

Sikira stepped on the moving stairs and I was forced to make my move too. Gripping the rails was no good. Even the rails were moving! Kai! Without thinking, I jumped on the thing and landed between two stairs. The metal separated and I staggered, holding on to the rails for dear life. Sikira laughed. I didn’t find it funny o.

So, we got to the ticket counter and the lady no even smile as she said “One-five.” I look the money well well before parting with it. We decided to watch Hancock. Now, that name was suggestive. Han-cock ke? Well, na Sikira sabi wetin she wan see for Han-COCK!

The ticket said Screen 5. I quickly made mental calculations. Five screens, with say 200 people each. Dat’s like 1000 people for each movie time. 1k times 1500 = 1.5million! For one! And dem dey show each movie like 3 to 4 times everyday! Kai! Over 4 to 5 million everyday! I must open Cinema!

As I dey head towards Screen 5, with my pupils turned to dollar signs, Sikira tugged at my elbow.

“Baby, we no go buy popcorn?”

“Pop-what?” Kai! 3k already and dis gal dey talk popcorn again? Why we no just buy guguru from Iya Elepa inside garage before we come.

Anyway sha, I follow am go the “Concession Stand” (see name!).

“Sugar or salt?”

“Ehn?”

“Do you want your popcorn in sugar or salt?” The concession lady dey sound like Britico. O n form. Ode!

Sikira talk say na sugar she want.

“How many packs?”

“One now!” I snapped; I don dey vex.

The concession Britico do say I no even talk to am. “Your drinks?”

“Water,” I said, thinking it would be cheaper.

“Fanta!” Sikira exclaimed, smiling. Ah, dis girl. I go comot all my money for her body, I swear!

“Eight fifty.”

“Ehn?”

“Eight hundred and fifty naira.”

“850! For what? For guguru and fanta?”

She kept a straight face, like she dealt with me everyday. “Popcorn” – she accented the popcorn – “300; Pet fanta 350; water 200.”

I shook my head. Fanta wey na 50 bucks. Pure Water, na five naira! Iya Elepa’s 20 naira guguru na ten times dis one. Yet, I dey pay 850.

I rummaged in my pockets and fished out crumpled notes; money wey I suppose deliver to Agbowo. No yawa sha.

I hissed as I left the place. My eyes don red, as per dem don cheat me. Upon all d millions wey dem dey make, dem still dey cheat me for guguru. God dey now!

********

Hancock started at 8pm. The movie lifted my spirits. From beginning to end, I laughed. Then I remembered that Hancock was Will Smith and Will Smith was Fresh Prince of old! Men! Dat guy don hammer o. Now, I had two career paths after my agbero stint: cinema owner or actor.

Since we no see Slow Motion again, we decide say we go enter bus. Night don nack sef by the time we leave; almost ten o’clock.

We enter bus and dis shayo conductor dey talk say make me I bring money. For where? I claim staff, abi him mama dey craze? The guy shout shout, I no just mind am. After all the money wey I don give dem for cinema, I go come pay transport again? Lailai!

**********

We get down for bus stop begin waka go house. The thing we dey my mind na how to collect my money back from Sikira tonight. The kain galala wey we go do, ehn, she no go forget am. Abi na lasan to spend all dat money?

Next thing wey I hear na: “Hey you! Stop there!”

Three policemen dey our front. One carry gun, one hold baton, one hold torch.

The one with the baton approached. The other two stood back.

“Officer, how now?” I tried to be friendly.

“Identify yourself.”

“Ah, I be Taju and dis na my girlfriend, Sikira.”

“So? Where your ID Card? Where you dey come from at dis time of d night?”

“Oga, dis na just past ten o. And me I no get any ID Card.”

“Then you must be a criminal! See as the girl sef look like ashawo!”

“Ehn? Wetin you talk? I no mind say u call me criminal o, but don’t call my girl an ashawo again! Lailai!”

The other two police men moved close.

“Ehn-ehn? If I call am nko?”

I remembered Hancock. Call me a jerk one more time.

I lowered my face and narrowed my eyes. “Call her ashawo one more time.”

The police man laughed. He lowered his face to meet mine and said: “A-SHA-WO!”

With the strength of Hancock, I grabbed his baton and “gbosa!!” on his gorimapa head.

Sikira screamed, “Taju!!!!!”

The policemen pounced on me, even the one with his head streaming blood. Before I could say “Hancock”, more of them appeared from out of the darkness. I fight dem o. But dem too plenty. With my eyes swollen, they bundled me into their pick-up. Straight to station.

Sikira na sharp girl now. While all the wahala dey happen, she don move. At least, somebody go know where dem carry me and come bail me.

Me wey never enter cell before, see as I dey now. At least, dis one go boost my street credibility: TJ don beat olopa before. TJ don sleep cell before. I smiled in spite of myself. Nothing dey happen jo. Na me and dem today….

LamBAtells:Fineboy Agbero Ep3 [Emi Okunkun]

2013-12-08T20:32:00.000+00:00

Emi Okunkun

Saturday 9.10am

“E don die?”

My eyes flickered open, then shut. The sky was black. Very black. It seemed as if a giant fist had blotted out the sun.

“E neva die o!”

“E don dey wake!”

The giant fist morphed into five, each one splitting to reveal splinters of sun. Five heads peered down at me as I lay on my back on the muddied ground.

“Wetin happen?” I asked, with my mouth as heavy as a planet.

Mufu came into focus.

“TJ, you dey alive?”

“You dey craze? You wan kill me before?”

“Sorry o. But na just one punch the guy give you now.”

Slowly, I remembered. Sunday! Kia-kia, I stand up. The circle of people around me dissolved. Sunday stood at a distance, his face filled with fear. Last night, the bastard gave me some numbers say make I play them for Baba Ijebu. “13, 14, 15. Too sure,” he had said. I ask am how those kain numbers go win and him talk say make him mama die if dem no win.
Na so I come give the bastard 1k. I put another 3k on top the 13-14-15 wey him give me. See, Sunday had never failed before; he was just like God. Sule, for the Baba Ijebu shop, dey ask me sef why I dey put all that kain money on those numbers. I tell am say make him go ask him mama.

In short sha, when result comot for night, the three numbers no even show face. 64-7-23. Imagine! Like a crazy lion, I go find Sunday. The guy don run! So what should I have done when I saw him at the busstop this morning? Me, wey no sleep for night wey I dey think of the money wey I don lost? Tell me, what should I have done?

True, I made the first attack. Quick as lighting, I gave him a few slaps and locked his shirt. He tried to explain something, but I no even hear. Before I knew what was happening, a punch landed on my face sending me to sleep.

So, even though Sunday was afraid of me, he stood his ground. Against his rippling muscles and giant frame, I appeared like a mere grasshopper. I thought of attacking him again, but I remembered his punch. If I got another couple, I might just die.

“Sunday, your mama don die o!” was all I said as I retreated to a corner to nurse my bruised face.

Saturday 2.23pm

Business was slow. To collect money from the buses was becoming harder, and Fashola’s BRT nonsense was the cause of it all. Most of the drivers had started plying other routes since passengers no dey gree come dem side again. I dey even hear say the thing don vex Jasper so tay him boys don dey plan how to burn like 20 BRT buses. Easy thing now: no be for one garage dem dey park all those buses? Just enter for one night, burn the useless things. At least before dem go buy new ones, we go don make our money again.

Anyway, as business no come, na so we retire for under the bridge o. Rashidi produced some Rizla and Mufu brought out the satchets of igbo. We were smoking our thing jeje o when Iya Sidikat gave a cry of fear. Next thing, people don scatter everywhere. Iya Sidikat’s tray of paraga fell to the floor, the bottles rolling all over the place.

Before we could say “wetin happen” two guys in lemon-green shirts land for our front to begin pack Iya Sikidat’s tray and her bottles. Another one grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards a van. Iya Sikidat wailed like a maniac, tearing at her hair and trying to free herself from his grip.

“Hey hey! Wetin happen?”

Kia-kia, we don stand up go meet the guys. Mufu and Rashidi circled the two looting the tray while I confronted the one holding Iya Sidikat.

“Ehn? Wetin happen? Your papa don deaf?”

“We be KAI!” The upper row of the bastard’s teeth had disappeared. Four brutal lines clawed at his cheeks in typical Egba tribal marks.

“And so? If you be KAI nko?”

“Go ask Fashola now!” he replied. He dared to reply!

“Ehn? Na Fashola dey put food for dis woman’s table? Na Fashola put us for here?”

The guy no answer.

“Oya, leave dis woman alone and go jeje.”

“Go where? I dey carry dis woman go station and nobody fit stop me!”

“Ehn-ehn?”

Though my face was still bruised from Sunday’s punch, my ego was bruised as well. Calmly, I picked up a bottle from amongst Iya Sidikat’s stuff.

“Wetin you wan do?” he was slightly afraid now.

I showed him what I could do. Brown liquid exploded into the afternoon sun as the bottle landed on his head. He screamed a loud “Yeeeepa!” as he let go of the woman to clutch at his head. Mufu and Rashidi took my cue. Sharp-sharp, dem don start to deal with the two other guys. As we approached their van to deal with the driver and the other guy inside, the driver jumped out and ran across the road. The other fellow was not so lucky. Mufu pounced on him and gave him the beating of his life. We opened the van and set free all the market women they had arrested. We wan burn the van sef but Agbowo appeared and that was that.

Sunday 8.46am

“But your name na Taju now. My name na Rashidi and Sikira is Sikira. Wetin we dey go find for church?”

“And so? When you go mosque sef last?”

Rashidi had no answer to this. True, he probably hadn’t stepped into a mosque in hundred years. That son of a bloody pagan! But somehow, Sikira who be Muslim, say make we come church for Sunday. Church ke? How the place dey be sef? E be like say na those her friends dey teach am all these things. So that I wouldn’t go alone, I asked Rashidi to go with me. At least it was better for two people to feel odd in a place than one person. Abi?

So, we got dressed and left for Sikira’s house. The church was a white-garment one, but Sikira no tell us. Sikira and her two friends wore the white aso-adura while Rashidi and I felt awkward in our dirty jeans and T-shirts.

When we got to the church, only people in white were allowed entry. Rashidi and I were relegated to a special bench right at the door.

“So, na here sinners dey sit, abi?”

“Yes o.”

“But how dem take know say we be sinners?”

We both laughed. The service continued and we kept yawning. The only thing that kept was awake was the loud clapping during the praise sessions and the wriggling fine bottoms of those devil girls. Sinners! Instead make dem come siddon with us for VIP.

All was going well, until one woman gave a loud cry and started making random motions, uttering a whole lot of gibberish.

“Eli…eli…eli…baba…yamaha…yamaha…okocha…okocha…honda….brazil…”

Rashidi and I chuckled as she left scattered benches in her wake while rolling on the floor. The worshippers were strangely quiet. Suddenly, she burst into a chant and started running around like something was chasing her. She screamed as she tried to ward off the invisible attacker with her fists. I started to get concerned.

As suddenly as she started, she stopped and looked sharply towards us.

“They are here,” she said in a metallic voice that didn’t sound like hers at all. “People from the water kingdom.” When she said this, several men in white with red sashes around their waists fell in behind her, brandishing thin metal rods.

Like a Nollywood movie gone bad, she approached like a zombie and pointed at me. When she got within touching distance, she started to scream, holding her hands over her ears.

“Ahhh!!! Go away! Evil spirit!!” She then fell to the floor, convulsing. Two men held her while the others approached Rashidi and me. My mouth was slightly open while my eyes started emptily at the sight I had just witnessed. I looked at Rashidi and he looked at me. We both shook our heads at the same time.

One of the men spoke to me. His entire head was covered in snow-white hair.

“My son, are you ready to be saved? Are you ready to denounce your friends in the evil kingdom and come into the light?”

As if on cue, the congregation started singing and clapping. The clapping built up to a frenzy. Four arms gripped me and carted me away into the church. I didn’t even resist; I was too numb. They placed me in the middle of the church while more men in white and red joined them. Each person had knotted palm-fronds in his hands. Moving to the rhythm of the music, they cycled me, swaying confusingly.

Come o, wetin dey happen? I glanced at Rashidi; his face was blank. I sought out Sikira but she was nowhere. The first lash landed across my neck, stinging like a bee. The other men followed and palm-fronds slashed across my body. I screamed in pain.

“Ja-de! Ja-de! Ja-de! Emi okunkun, ja-de!”

I struggled against the men but they pinned me to the ground. With welts forming all over my body and my bruised face starting to bleed, I threw around wild punches, hitting jaws and groins. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the door. The men followed with their whips.

“Ja-de! Ja-de! Ja-de! Emi okunkun, ja-de!”

I ran out of the church, never to return.

LamBAtells:Fineboy Agbero Ep2 [Fight, fight and Romance]

2013-12-06T12:30:00.000+00:00

Fight, fight and romance

2:32pm

I was chilling with Mufu inside a bus in the garage when the fools came. There were five of them, and though they tried to put up bold faces, I wasn't fooled.

“Na u be Taju?”

I looked at the fellow speaking and sized him up. His eyes were red from smoking igbo but that one no concern me.

“Who dey find am?”

“Wey the phone wey you collect from my brother?”

I no just talk anything. This one dey follow me talk like that. For inside garage! I slung my shirt over my shoulder and slipped out of the bus. Next thing na:

GBOLA!!!! GBOLA!!! GBOLA-GA!!!

The big stout bottle wey I just finish drink from crash on top the head of three of them. As they fell to the floor screaming, Mufu charged at the remaining two and I reached for the plank that served as the middle seat of the bus. Na so we dey beat them o. Two of us only against five mugus. Blood don flow finish before Agbowo and other NURTW people scatter-land.

“Wetin dey happen? Wetin dey happen? Ki lo n sele?” Na so dem dey ask.

I didn’t answer nobody, men. I was just thirsty for blood, breathing heavy like a diesel generator. I grabbed their leader by the throat and pulled him up.

He quavered as I screamed into his face. “Tell your bastard brother! I want my money. Or else… or else!!!”

Agbowo wrestled him away from my hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rashidi restraining Mufu. Biola and co led the five boys away under the NURTW canopy. Mufu and I followed Agbowo to go explain what the matter was.

3:46pm

Nothing happen o. Nothing. Abi wetin dem wan do? Na pure logic now. A guy swindled me, I requested for my money, he sent thugs after me. Wetin I for do? Agbowo and co blamed the five boys. They were actually some of Jasper’s boys o. Imagine. Jasper controlled the other half of the road and his boys were known for their jeje-ness. Dem no dey fight, no dey harass anybody.

Anyway sha. Dem tell the boys make dem go bring the Yahoo boy or else Japser go hear for the matter. And if Jasper got wind of the whole scam, those boys would probably lose their jobs, or worse still, get blacklisted. Lailai, dem no go ever be agberos again.

Haba na dem know jo.

4:17pm

Fight never finish o. I was working on the afternoon shift when Baba Odeku’s jalopy passed. The car was so ugly and battered that we stopped collecting levies from Baba Odeku. Besides, him no dey get conductor, and na who person wan hold? Baba Odeku was don pass sixty and na to die remain?

The bus behind Baba Odeku’s was the koko. As I rushed to collect the levy, I found that the conductor no dey by the door. I shadow well-well, come go harass driver. The driver pointed to the back, and hiding in the boot, sitting on the engine in one corner was that bastard conductor that was gbemu-ing that day. Iya e!

My stomach was happy. My eyes turned red. I ran to the back of the bus, yanked open the booth and dragged the idiot by the shirt.

He still dey try do bragado. Were! One slap and he fell to his knees. I kneed him in the stomach and he doubled up, groaning and screaming. People stopped to look. Buses slowed down. Passengers gawked. His bus stopped some few metres away and the driver alighted. One Ibo chap wey no sabi talk.

“Wetin the boy do you now? Eh? Abi you don craze?”

It was as if my ears were not functioning. Or didn’t that omo nna just insult me? I raised my head slowly and looked him in the eye. He maintained my gaze. My head swung backwards and I gave him the hardest head butt I had ever delivered in my life. My gorimapa forehead connected with his nose and he joined his conductor on the floor yelling. As his hands covered his nose, it was immediately covered with thick red blood.

“Beat dem well well! Beat dem!”

Ehn? It was the passengers in the bus.

“Yeye man! Oya fight now! Fight with your mate!”

A particular woman had alighted and she was obviously livid with rage. She was as round as a tomato, wide as a pumpkin.

“Yeye man, fight! Na only passengers you sabi harass! Hundred naira bus and you no wan pay agbero, God don catch you!”

Soon, I saw that the fight was slipping out of my hands as more women alighted from the bus to start raining insults on the driver and his conductor. Passers-by were laughing at the two sorry men on the floor and the throng of women insulting them. Newcomers didn’t even know the full story; they probably thought the women had beaten the two men up.

8:20 pm

Rashidi burst into my room without knocking.

“How far? You don ready?”

He was sporting a blue Adidas shirt over a pair of jeans and white sneakers.

“Farabale now. I just dey dress up.”

“Omo, quick quick o. Mufu don call o. He say the Carnival don start.”

“No be all-night? Cool down jo.”

It was obvious that Rashidi couldn’t wait. The party don enter him head patapata. Soon sha, I finished up. Ah, come see fine boy! I fit dress o: nice blue shirt with a black blazer over couture jeans and flat-soled sneakers. Omo, no be joke o.

We entered the party around past nine sha. Gbedu was blasting from power speakers. Ehn, Baby do me I do you, Man no go vex. We located Mufu. He was swaying in one corner with a bottle of Gulder. Quick-quick, he got us drinks; I settled for Star while Rashidi joined Mufu in Gulderizing his life.

I was halfway through my drink when I saw Sikira. Oh my God! She was wearing a mini-skirt that exposed her fine legs and a low-cut blouse that showed a generous part of her breasts. Rashidi seemed to have followed my eyes because he suddenly slapped me on the back and started laughing.

“Bros!”

“Ehn? Wetin?”

I wasn’t functioning properly anymore. Seeing Sikira again after two weeks just dey scatter my brain. Sikira is one pretty girl I’ve been eyeing for quite some time now. She owns the phone kiosk across the street from where the garage is. For the first time in my life, I began to feel what was called love. Sometimes our eyes will meet and we’ll both smile. Sometimes she’d do as if she didn’t even know I was staring at her. It was at times like that that I felt like an idiot. I was always angry at everybody and everything for no just cause.

But tonight, Sikira turned her head and looked straight in my direction. She smiled. My eyes widened. She walked towards me swaying her hips. The whole party seemed to pause. Everything stood still and the only motion was from Sikira. Beer bottles paused halfway to mouths, heads froze at forty-five degrees, mouths hung open. Even the air seemed to stop circulating. But towards me she walked, her hips swaying, her breasts bobbing and her smile ensnaring my soul.

“What’s up, TJ?”

Her voice sounded like the flap of a butterfly’s wings. The whole party took cue and everything started to move again.

I stood up hastily. “Sikira baby! How you dey now?”

“I dey o.” She batted her eyelids. My throat felt dry.

“Em… em… how tonight go be now?”

“Well,” she wrung her hands as spoke, “how you wan make he be?”

I took Sikira by the hand and pulled her gently towards a dark corner. I looked back and winked at Rashidi. He shook his head and smiled. Mufu guffawed.

11: 54pm

The party has been going on for ever now, but me, I no notice o. The volume of the speakers sounded distant though wriggling bodies were dancing just a few metres away. Surrounded by Sikira’s juicy body, I was oblivious to everything else. In the wetness of her lips, I lost all thought. The softness of her breasts reminded me that fighting might not be the end of everything. As the darkness grew thicker and the night got colder, Sikira motioned away from the carnival and we both walked in the direction of my house.

Enough galala tonight! The carnival be damned. I don forget how to speak pidgin sef…

LamBAtells:Fineboy Agbero Ep1 [Oya now!!!]

2013-12-04T15:24:00.000+00:00

Oya Now!

7:36am
Iya Sidikat poured me two shots of paraga and I quickly downed the drink. The hot liquor sped down my throat, hit my chest with the force of ten thousand thunderbolts and restored heat into my harmattan-beaten body. I exhaled with a long “Aahhhhhhhhhhhh.”
“Fara bale, bobo yi. Cool down!” Rashidi admonished.
I slapped my chest vigorously and thrust the cup into the woman’s face. She looked at me like I don kolo, but my eyes were so red and hard that she quickly poured me two extra shots.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed the drink. Tiny veins in my brain imploded. My closed-eye vision turned red, then purple. My chest smarted. I screamed.
Rashidi bellowed with laughter. “Alagbara!”
I shook my head, saying nothing as I regained composure. Blood go flow like water dis morning. One bastard was gbemu-ing to me. One bastard conductor. Oloshi! He refused to pay my shandy yesterday bicos him carry one yeye staff. Today na today!

8.35am
Shagaya ran to me at the bus stop and collapsed on the floor. He was holding his left eye and his hands were covered in blood. Rashidi and I left the driver we were harassing and ran to Shagaya.
“Wetin happen?”
“Kilo sele?”
I lifted Shagaya to his feet and through his uncovered eye he looked at me. The words spattered out of his mouth like Baba Odeku’s battered danfo engine.
“It’s… it’s….”
“Talk! Abi you dey craze?”
“Haruna!”
“Ehn? Wetin Haruna do again?”
He narrated the sorry tale of how Haruna had beaten him up over a plate of ewa-aganyin.
See, Shagaya is my younger brother, but him no sharp like me. We dey by-force am sometimes to even slap somebody. Haruna was always beating him up, capitalizing on his easy-going nature. But I don warn dat boy severally yet him no go hear. Maybe it was time to teach him a lesson.
I gave Shagaya a few slaps, sending him cowering. He kept screaming “Egbon please! Egbon please!” embarrassing me at the bus stop, so I left him. I pushed him forward.
“Oya now, let’s go.”
Rashidi stayed back to help me with the levy collection. The thing no dey hard for morning as everybody dey always cooperate. Na for afternoon or evening dem head dey craze wey dem go dey talk story. Like that bastard conductor. God save am say him never pass dis morning. If God is on him side, he had better sneaked past before I returned.
Haruna was feeling like a king when we got to him house. He and the other boys were seated in front of his house discussing Chelsea and Mourinho. When he saw me coming, with Shagaya skipping ahead, he almost turned white. His eyes bulged out of his sockets like he was having a heart attack.
The kain blow wey I give am, him no believe. Kia-kia, he was on the floor prostrating and pleading. I drew him up with one hand and punched him in the eye. He screamed like a LASTMA siren and sagged in my grip. The other boys stood at a distance, not daring to come near.
“If you touch my brother again!”
“Egbon, I no go touch am!”
“If you touch Shagaya again.”
“I swear, lai-lai, I no go touch am!”
I dropped the fool to the floor and turned to go. Haruna’s mother came out of the house with a broom and I stopped to greet her.
“Good morning, ma.”
“How are you, Taju?”
“Fine, ma.”
I paused for a moment expecting something, but she kissed the broom to the floor and started sweeping like nothing had happened.

11.16am
The morning rush was over and Rashidi and I sat on a bench under the pedestrian bridge. Scorpion’s car arrived and he alighted to the kowtows of the numerous smart guys. We stood up from our seat as he approached.
“Baba o!” we greeted. He acknowledged our greeting with a flick of his bejewelled hand. We sat down again and extracted the morning collections from our pockets. I counted 5,620 naira, taking care not to bring out the five-hundi that I had stashed at the bottom of my pocket.
Soon, Agbawo came along for our takings. He eyed Rashidi’s 4k plus with suspicion but gleamed at my takings.
“Big boy. We go soon promote you. Well done.” All the while he was addressing me, he was glaring at Rashidi. When he left Rashidi vented his anger on me.
“I no like am o! I know like am at all. Why you go always dey make me look like that? The guy go think say I dey steal him money now.”
“But you dey steal am now,” I cut in gently.
“You dey craze? You know wetin I dey talk now.”
“I know, and I don tell you well well. You dey too steal the money. Do am small small.”
“Iya e!”
“I don hear you. Na here you go die!”

1.47pm
I was resting during the afternoon shift. It wouldn’t be until four before I got on my second shift for the day. The conductor fellow had still not passed. I’m sure his father must have been a babalawo or his mother was a witch. Lucky Bastard. I go catch am sha.
Pasuma’s singing voice told me my phone was ringing. I extracted the Nokia N73 that one boy from Computer Village had sold me and found the caller to be Shagaya. Wetin again? Haruna don kill am dis time?
“Ki lo de?”
“Boda mi! That boy don come area o!”
“Which boy?”
“That Yahoo boy that sold you that bad laptop.”
“Ehn! Where him dey?”
“He don enter dem Goddy’s compound.”
“I dey come!”
I sprang up from where I was lying down and grabbed my shirt off the bridge support. God don catch am! The laptop that the bastard sold me four months ago packed up just after two days. I don call am die and the guy just dey post me. After a while him no even pick my calls again. He think say I be maga abi? I will beat him till he begins to dance Yahoozey.
Shagaya was waiting in front of Goddy’s compound, watching out for the guy for me. Correct guy. Sometimes he can be useful.
“How far?”
“He hasn’t come out o, bros.”
“You sure?”
“Yes now.”
“Which room did he enter?”
“I no know o!”
“Okay. Thanks. Go home.”
Shagaya left and I entered the compound. It wasn’t a house really, so we called it “compound.” It was a U-shaped structure divided into some twenty rooms, all with doors facing a common courtyard. It had no gates and a communal toilet and bathroom were located at the back. Enough of that rubbish.
I strode to the first room. The door was locked from outside with a giant padlock. The second room was locked too. With two giant padlocks. I thought the third one would have three, but the door was slightly ajar. I banged on it. A gruff “Yes?” came from inside and a towel-clad old man appeared at the door with a pool paper in his hands.
“Sorry, sir,” I muttered and moved to the next room. The man retreated into his room like he was used to strangers banging on his door and then saying sorry. Maybe he was.
The door to the next room was wide open. A woman sat on the floor with five kids scattered in sleeping positions all over the floor.
I scanned all the rooms like that till I came to the fourteenth one. The door was again slightly ajar here. I banged on it, already getting too angry with frustration. A female voice answered from within.
I pushed the door open and entered. On the single mattress on the floor was my guy with his shirt off, and the sweet ugly girl in his arms. I smiled when I saw him. He didn’t return my smile, but fidgeted, groping on the bed for something that wasn’t missing.
“Ah, bros. Na you be this.”
“Yes o. Na me.” I didn’t even acknowledge the girl. I almost didn’t even see her.
He stood up, pushing the girl roughly to a side. “Make we talk outside, bros.”
“Na here we go talk. Where my money?”
“Em…em…”
“Em what? You dey craze? Your mama wan die? You papa wan get accident?”
I heard a wince at the vehemence of my words. It was the girl. The boy licked his lips and couldn’t get words out of his mouth.
“Give me all your phones.” I knew he had like five.
“Bros, cool down now.”
“Make I cool down? You don dey craze!” I accompanied my retort with a slap. A kick in the groin followed. He buckled and fell unto the bed. I jerked him up by his trousers and removed all the contents of his pockets. He didn’t even try to resist. I found only four phones, but that was good enough. I removed his wallet too. His four phones must cost close to 100k; they looked pretty expensive. The fake laptop he sold to me was only forty grand.
“When you have my money, come meet me for bus stop and you go collect all your things back. Intact.”
“Bros, I beg…” he managed to say.
I ignored his pleas. “If you don’t come before seven tonight, consider all these things sold.”
To drive my point home, I picked up his shirt from where it hung by the window sill and draped it over my shoulder. I took a last glance at the frightened girl and exited the room.

8:47pm
The conductor boy did not come around today. Perhaps, he don fear. I will give you the full gist on what he did later. The boy can run o, but he can never run forever. One day I go catch am, and then? Well, you can only imagine. The Yahoo boy too don run o. With all his shakara he didn’t even show face. I will give him till tomorrow evening, then I will sell his phones. The nasty things did not even allow me to rest; they kept ringing like bicycle bells. I had to switch them off one by one.

8:56pm
Make I hit this “Post” button jo. Next week is another day.

Song of the day: SDC - Feel Alright

LamBAtells: Fineboy Agbero Series

2013-12-03T15:28:00.008+00:00

My people,

Its been ages....I stopped music blogging too and I'm presently reverting back to making this blog a story blog..awesome stories!!!

For the next couple of weeks, I will be running a series of stories tagged 'Fineboy Agbero'. The stories are super funny i promise and it will be up every week till the last one in 2014. At the end, I will reveal the inspiration/what/who made the stories. Bookmark this address to catch the tells also follow on twitter @TYLamBA and @theLamBA_ to see when links go up.

SYNOPSIS

Name: FineBoy Agbero

Location: Iju, Fagba, Iyana-Ipaja, Amukoko, Shomolu, Oshodi, Mushin, Okoko, anywhere molue dey enter, Eko Akete (na Lagos be dat), Nigeria

After writing JAMB six times, a friend initiated me into the agbero clique. Since then, na so so miliki o. Free money, no work, enough shepe, enough omoge... Abeg, JAMB dey craze!!!

Interests: Drinking paraga and shepe, smoking igbo, breaking bottles, fighting aluta

Favorite Movies Snake in the Monkey Shadow, Rambo, Nagin

Favorite Music Pasuma, Saheed Osupa, Atewewe, Daddy Showkey, Danfo Drivers

Favorite Books Ababio, Better Lover, Alaroye, Complete Sports

Episode 1 will be up tomorrow at 4'O clock

LamBAtells: CAUGHT BY MY MOM

2013-10-29T13:12:00.000+00:00

As written by Sasky Doo

PUFF PUFF PASS

Puff, Puff, Pass. That’s what we say when we're two or more and sharing a joint. But I don't think I will be puffing or passing anytime soon. I've smoked my last blunt man. Made a promise I fully intend to keep because it’s a sad day when a mother catches her first child using……

And I was caught in the worst way. July 22^nd, 2011. I’m alone at home. My father has gone on the job. Mom is at the store where she sells provisions. With the house to myself, and no light (Power Holding was holding onto power again), I am quickly bored. I think about going out, but it’s still early. Then I remember I have some weed leftover from the previous day. So, I roll up a really fat one and lock myself up in my toilet with my iPod on full volume.

I'm blazing freely, singing along with Fela, when over the blaring of my headphones and off-key voice; I hear banging on the door and my mother’s voice telling me to come out
. Shit, Fuck! I swear about ten times, confused. Thinking, should I come out? Of course you have to come out, you dumb prick! You can't stay locked in there forever. What am I going to tell her? Can she smell the smoke? Cigarettes, Cigarettes. That’s what I'll say.

So I come out, higher than Bob Marley, looking sheepish and face my mother. The look on her face breaks my heart; and through my dilated pupils I can see she already knows. I can't lie anymore because she’s crying. I hate seeing my mother cry man; and it’s worse because I know I am the cause of it.

I try to explain to her on bended knees; I beg her to forgive me. I’m not an addict, I say. This is the third time I'm doing this. I only do it when I'm frustrated. It helps take my mind off things. She looks at me from behind her tears. She wants to believe, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. So she asks me questions. Where did you get it from? I remain silent. You better start talking, she says. She repeats her question. And so I tell her; a guy sells the stuff a couple of streets away. How much? 100 Naira. My God, 100 Naira!

She is getting hysterical now. You want to ruin your life for just 100 Naira. Can’t you see what you are doing to yourself? You know this thing is dangerous. You watched the film they showed in your school. And yet you choose to smoke igbo…..IGBO! My God, what will I say? Why are you doing this to me? Why should it be me whose child is smoking igbo? Do you want to destroy your life?

The crying resumes and at this point, I am truly sorry. She probably sees this, so she’s begging me now. Please don’t ruin your life. Please! Stop following all these boys that you’re following. Even if you’re not an addict now, before you know it, you'll become one and be the next naked man living under the bridge. Is that what you want?

No, I say. So she makes me promise. Never to smoke igbo again. And I do. She says I must stop this; that it must be the last time. Do you need help? No, I say. I can handle it.

She’s quiet now. Then, I don’t know what to do. If I should tell your father, he’ll be so heartbroken. I don’t know if he can handle this. I don’t know if I can handle this. She cries some more. And I go to her. Mum, I promise. It will never happen again. Then I repeat the same excuses. Please don’t tell Daddy. I’m not an addict. I can stop anytime I want. Stop, she says. Please stop. For your sake. I won’t tell him, but please stop.

She has to go back to the store and so she leaves me again.

After a while, the “highness” wears off and I wonder if I had been hallucinating the whole time. But I go back to the toilet and see the remaining half of the joint. I flush it down and watch it swirl away. No you sucker, no hallucination. But the experience was surreal man!

By the way, I mean to keep that promise. Never to put my mother through such pain again. Too hard. For the both of us……

Guy na puff puff pass nah. Na you dey always disturb the sequence. I pass the joint back to my friend. He drags, inhales and then exhales. Dude, that’s a fucked up story!

LamBAtells: I am with D'banj

2013-10-22T20:19:00.001+01:00

I fell in love with D'banj the second I heard the second verse of tongolo. I got back to school the next day singing that verse and folks just thought I had come again. In the following months, D'banj fever swept over the country.

My first shot at meeting him was in 2010 when I and my friends landed a shirt gig with D'prince of then Mohits. Unfortunately he was never in Nigeria all the times we went to their house and was part of the envoy to the Headies award 2010.

Finally met him weeks back and he happily knighted me LamBA Lee.

LamBAtells: ABEG, HELP US MANAGE AM

2013-09-29T22:18:00.000+01:00

Being a minute I'av been on here. Started another personal blog as this isn't so personal anymore...my mom and pops read it.
This was written by my friend Funeh Aliu, rearranged by me. I miss this dude, we connected on my levels; intellectually, love for photography, writing, women etc and basic trips of life.

#np EME all-stars - Change

If you can't achieve it don't condemn it. What do you think about that quote? I came up with it not because i believe it but because I have met a large number of Nigerians who seem to believe it and fashion their lives based on it.
They go to the extent of expecting others to conform to life in the same way. I think that statement or anything that sounds like it is nonsense on many levels!
Why would I be prevented from voicing out my opinion on issues simply because I can't do it myself? Haven't I seen others do things and do them well?

As far as I am concerned, that makes for grounds for me to tell you that yours isn't good enough!
I like to look at it from this simple point of view:
I eat out at some restaurant, the food Is rather spicy and generally tastes like an experiment but I have no right to say a word about the quality of the food since on my own I will be unable to cook the food nor do I own a restaurant. I may even be expected to praise the cook- after all I can't cook that well, right? Wrong!

Or I hear this rather horrid song and I don't know which is more sore, my ears or the singer's voice e.g To*** D***. Oh because I cant even sing up a note I shouldn't say the song is BAD?
I have tasted food and I know how good food should taste (my mother's Efo or Doublewealth's noodles); I just tasted nonsense and I know the difference! I have listened to good music and I have a good sense of what an OK song should sound like.
Shouldn't that give me every right to break out the truth to them? The truth is bitter when you think the person critiquing is not worthy to do so.

Let's go further, is it wrong to criticize Arsene Wenger (of Arsenal football club) for poor coaching especially for not buying quality players and big names because I have never been a coach except in the 'football manager' game? Well I have seen many coaches including but not limited to José Mourinho make great football decisions from his FC Porto days down to Chelsea, charming the Italians winning two UEFA champions league titles among-st other titles in the process. And since his move to real Madrid, he has positively influenced their style of football. So, I believe I have the right to criticize 'based on' what other coaches are doing.

This brings me to one major factor I believe prevents Nigerian services from improving. Nigerians too dey manage!

We are hardly thorough on any issue. I think it stems from the fact that we are just too nice! I like the restaurant scenario alot so I'll use it again as an example. In a restaurant, I am served with a tumbler that has a chip at the top, on a table with bits from the last meal by the last customer. The average Nigerian won't/does not complain, instead he thinks to himself, "the chip on the glass doesn't affect the taste of my drink, it can't even leak from there neither will I be eating off the table so why bother, I'll manage it Jor"
If on the flip side he is the 'janded' type and thinks he has rights to sue and decides to voice his complaint/discomfort, the waiter will probably reply, "Oga Na because of this small tin you dey complain? Abeg help us manage am". Note the 'help us'!

That suggests that if you demand for a replacement of the glass or insist on the cleaning of the table you are not being helpful. Haba! Something wey you go use your Naira pay for.

This scenario can be played out in so many sectors of the Nigerian experience from accommodation, communication (let's not even go into this sector), healthcare (no bedspace inside, lie down on the bench for sometime) to daily purchases(Madam, Abeg manage the nylon, it's not that torn now) to school systems ( at least our students don't sit on the floor) all the way to government.

In summary, I am asking that we (I am guilty too) stop being 'helpful' so that the general services in Nigeria would be forced to improve and as such government too. Be free to voice out and be quick to criticize things you observe are not up to standard or need improvement even if it isn't something you can do yourself as far as you have some knowledge as to what the right thing should be.

Did I commit any blunder in this article?
CRITICIZE AND MAKE A CHANGE!

LamBAtells:HAVE YOU SEEN MY CHILDHOOD?

2013-09-04T16:50:00.000+01:00

I had written the common entrance around April...April 17th I think...how do I remember? Dunno, I somehow sometimes always remember dates..lots of dates are etched in my memory
Had a score of 520... Weeks abi months later after going for an interview, I got admitted into Kings' College..merit list number 42

Resumption was slated to October 4th, I was happy to be leaving home! Maybe it was the tins of Milo,the sardines, cornflakes, biscuits and whatnot that seem to keep my mind at rest
My mum was in tears, I was all smiley in my immaculate white pair with H.O.T written boldly in permanent black marker.

Barely 20 minutes after they had left,
I was on the field about to join in a football game I knew nothing about, only to be told that specific people had been picked and it wasn't a free for all.
Strolling across the field of play(it was a riot out here, different classes had taken different parts of the big pitch, so you had like 3matches going on)..so strolling across, i obstructed a shot prolly destined for goal...next thing I heard was some person shouting at me 'are you a basket?' huh? Basket? Before I crossed safely to my hostel: Hyde Johnson's House, I had heard people call themselves 'Bastard' repeatedly. I was in awe!!! Bastard was a deep dreaded word back in primary school. Oh well
Hostel.

I'm hearing shouts of 'a boy, last boy'... Which one be that one again? And suddenly, running footsteps would accompany the silence.
Busayo Shokoya was my bunk mate and a sorta makeshift school father, rather calm guy who explained somethings/slangs to me (all our slangs had 'o' at the end e.g stabo, fapo, clearo, jacko, chesto, yamo , yarning o etc). The other bunk to my right was another Jss1 student Tunji Salami; we were inseparably for the coming weeks, dude always bought me fanyogo and buns everybreak during our orientation.

They called the spaces you had after arranging your bunk apartments..also sharing Busayo's apartment was this rather funny dude: Olumide Shitta; an enkarka worshipper
Underneath Tunji was another dude Olakanmi who looking back was attimes eccentric and got annoyed easily.My new family.

View of my hostel from the field

Living in my hostel which was built in the 1900s definitely spurred my love for architecture from that era till the 70s.

Weeks in, fearsome tales about the mermaid and elephant on our badge had filtered to us and the coin in the PKC's(principal Kings college) office that must not be dropped.
One afternoon, during my week of grace(seniors gave Js1 student allowment of a week or two before involving you in dorm work and errands) I came to the hostel to meet other junior students;my immediate seniors mounting on lockers and were sitting on invisible seats with arms stretched out. We called this punishment 'construction'. It had different variants: mount and construct' or just construct.
By the end of the week of grace, I was no longer actually friends with Tunji who had started to turn out a wretch(what we called students whom were utterly dirty)..not like i was far better, but Busayo and Olumide wouldn't have it so I was on a good path.

Fast forward to end of our week of grace, I was labelled arrogant, given dorm work and the competitive running and pushing whenever you heard 'a boy, last boy'/the mounting and constructions began.

Weeks later, there I stood at the door to my class...my dull white shirt and trousers reminiscent of their glory days hung on my lean frame and no belt to hold my trousers and my cutlery jingling in my pocket. My provision had either been obtained or stolen.
This was only the beginning.

I remember Paul Ogadi, Ogaga Umbi, Ugo Obikili, Yisa Kabiru, Uche 'poposky', Hamzat Mcfoy, Seyi Odubote, Mathelo Myada, Somi Oshodi, Theophilous Tikpa, Gerald, Chukwuka Obichukwu, Sola Ogunyemi
Not forgetting King Bala