My random thoughts.

Archive for the category “Abiodun Kassim”

Open Letter to My Husband on Our First Year Anniversary!!!!



Its been 365days of an entirely new experience.

In the past year I have confirmed that I have a support system in my husband and that my husband is the only best friend I really need.

He’s been my best friend, brother, father, business partner, confidant, teacher,happiness machine,play mate

My dear @Abiodunkssm for loving me unconditionally, for loving my perfect imperfections, my skoin skoin,for reminding me every time that I am special, I am important and no ones opinion matters.

In the past year you have made it clear that unhappiness is not allowed and every time I try to swing into a mood, you effortlessly drag me out of it and tell me “we don’t do this here”

You make it clear that our marriage and lives should be rosy and happy for the most part of our union.

I, without regret say that the past year has been the best year of my years, your family has taken Me as Thiers, I’ve been treated like a princess.

The support all rounder has been massive.

I knew from the first day December 26 2010 that you will be a blessing to me, 2 years after we decided to make us official.

You make it easy,all of me loves all of you, my dear Husband Abiodun Ridwan Kassim @abiodunkssm today,everyday and FOREVER MORE

In Sha Allah.

#weddinganniversary #firstyearwedding #naijawedding #bellanaijaweddings #oneyearweddinganniversary #naijabride #nigerianwedding #nigerianweddings #muslimfamily Image#muslimah #islamiyah


A Breath of Fresh “Hair”

This Post was written by Abiodun Kassim

The life of a strand of hair lies in its roots, same thing for man, believe it or not. There are all kinds of hair, silky and smooth, stubborn, short, black, real, fake and the whole nine yards, for every type of hair, there is a type of man yet a man does not have to be what his hair is (I know you have heard India Arie say so). All these possibilities for alteration and differences make life quite interesting. You should hear my story.

I am your average bachelor who is comfortable but not quite where I am headed yet. I consider myself a strong ‘thousaneer’ if I could borrow the word. I studied fine art at great Ife, if asked, I endure this cruel world because of my love for art and paintings and I only went to school for the same reason.  Every now and then, I dabble into photography just to remind myself of how good I am with the paintbrush. A camera is a copycat; with my brush, I can tell the story of my subject. The flexibility of painting allows me to give my art its own identity, every stroke is a different scene while I paint and my eyes are the lenses……….Enough!!!… My story

I live in Ilupeju, alone in my flat. The only neighbors I have are my Indian landlord and his family. One day, his little daughter who was chasing a ball ran into one of my very few photography sessions, and we graduated into a photo shoot. She was a natural. What really struck me was her hair and the way she seemed to speak with it. Yes! I love hair, especially the long and silky type, and I particularly love it when it stems out of the scalp of its owner, every strand has a story to tell all the way to the roots… Irony is I keep a baldhead.

While I was editing the photos, I felt compelled to take the photos to the family; they deserved to see how beautiful their daughter was. I knocked on the door, and it wasn’t long before the door was opened. I was greeted first by a surge of incense smoke; then the mom. She was clearly surprised to see me.

 Very nice to me, she offered me drinks while we all sat and looked through the pictures. I could tell that latika was pleased with her pictures. She said she was going to show them to her dad when I printed them.  I was happy just seeing that smile; One of the very few times that my work from a camera gave me such joy.

  I never really had ties with the family, if not for rent and service charges; we will probably never have spoken. See how these pictures have brought us together, I am cooking dinner for  what was perceived as a rigid Indian family, we share cultural jokes and we are bonding. Rajiv; latika’s dad is in construction, incidentally; we have that in common.

When I said I was a strong thousaneer, I made my few thousands from sculptures. We always had a lot to talk about. Latika became my constant model. I began to love this family like mine. We became so close that I could complain about their incense and they’ll turn it off. Indians stop burning incense for me? We were one.

One day, we made jokes about my baldhead and Rajiv’s turban.  I asked why Indians wear turbans all the time, and he laughed and said and I quote; in his Indian accent “trust me, it is not to cover a hairless head” I wasn’t sure how he noticed since I wore a hat all the time, but I guess that was the giveaway, he never saw me without the hat. Either way he cracked me up and we laughed for a good minute, we took a break but continued right after I took off my hat.

In all of this laugher, latika just stared fervently at me; she did not find anything funny. Just then, she asked why I didn’t have hair.  And silence filled the room, Rajiv was holding his laughter, I think his wife was a little smarter as she tried to detour latika from the question, but I encouraged her to ask.

Rajiv was in shock when I said the reason, I saw his eyes redden and begin to tear up, his wife was about to join him, latika obviously confused dashed into one of the rooms in the apartment. I didn’t want any pity; I always wanted to avoid it. It is bad enough that my whole family thought cancer was a reason to dump me off in some hospital like I was doing time for a crime, then they will come visiting often, bearing gifts and wailing family members. It made me furious. Not to talk of the nurses, who continued the pity party after hours. They were the reason I decided to leave the hospital and live on my own. If I was going to die, I wanted to go down laughing and enjoying the beauty of life. Thank God for my brushes and my camera.

I don’t know what moved me to reveal it. I got comfortable I guess, I got up and left without saying good night. They understood, actually I hope they did because the next morning, I was gone. I always wanted to move to Ghana, I heard they had the best sculptors, it was time to put them to the test. I left without a proper goodbye. I left a note.

 A year had passed and I returned to Lagos to visit my family, my health was deteriorating, I was drawing close to home. I came to create my final memories and say my goodbyes. My family was glad to see me, and I could see them all tiptoeing around the issue, trying all they could not to upset me in any way. I found it cute and funny.  I was beginning to find the peace I needed but there was one last thing for me to do.

I drove into the Ilupeju compound, nothing had changed, and Amisu was still at his post. He greeted me with such warmth, I was scared that even he knew, but I remember I always tipped him and he was always happy. I climbed up the stairs and rung the white doorbell that had the Indian inscription on it. It took a few minutes then the door finally opened. No incense surge, it was just latika’s mom greeting me with swollen eyes drenched in tears and a white note in her right hand she had seen me drive in. I turned around and made for the stairs, it’s been a whole year, why is she still crying? “wait” she said, and she handed me the note. It was written in pink ink. Latika left a note.

She was diagnosed with leukemia and her parents had doubled on the incense burning to chase away the bad spirit that was behind the ailment. Talk about attempting to kill the problem with the cause. There was truly a bad spirit……….ignorance.

In her note, she wrote that she had lost all her hair too. Her mom told her she lost it because she was travelling to live with her grandparents and she wont need the hair there. She said I could have it all since I was still here. She packed it in a neat stash behind her dollhouse for me. I was moved to tears, but my heart fell for the devastated mother who stood before me. I held her in a tight embrace and didn’t let go……….


P.S : Shout out to the writer, pure talent, you can read other works by this write on this blog
Enjoy your week people.

Two Policemen, My Spouse & I

Written by Mr Bey :p


I took some hours off work, So myself and Zee were at ojodu to drop off some items for sale. We had both spent all the cash we had. Zee had just finished cutting some keys with her last 500 box. We were driving so we did not need any cash immediately right?… So we thought.


Innocently, we proceeded on our journey going the same way we came o! And gbam.. Two men jumped in front of the vehicle, one dressed in Nigerian police garbs and the other in mufty. We rolled down our windows, I was sure it was just a routine checkpoint. I wondered why though, it was 2pm, I never see any roadblocks at this time..


The guy in mufty walks up to us and says “do you know this street is one way?”…. I was going to be sarcastic but then I thought… This is ojodu ooo.. I no too sabi this zones. So I politely asked for the sign. He showed it to me.. Very inconspicuous.. But it was there, so.. I no get mouth. I acknowledged that I was wrong “politely ooo” since it now dawned on me that both Zee and I were 0 on cash. I guess the guy must have smelt weakness from my politeness and they both suddenly jumped into my car, sat in the backseat and asked me to proceed to their office.


This upset me, because I was polite na! And it wasn’t such a major road.. I thought they could at least let me off the hook and ask for small change that I could get from atm. Contrary to my expectations, the guy made me park close to their office and started with the “50k fine and psychiatric test speech” which means he was gunning for 10k or something as pardon fee. I was totally apalled by the idea and so I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to beg or pay any bribe. I also said I wasn’t going to call anyone, I wanted to see how well the law worked. I was willing to pay the fine to shame those guys. I hadn’t said anything all through the speech… I was just thinking in my head. Zee obviously didn’t know waht was happening in my head as the guy spoke. She stopped him half way smiling and being nice asking him to get to the point, she said how can he help us. Dude went on and on abt being yoruba and knowing that I am yoruba and blah blah blah… He then asked… What do I want him to do for me.


With a straight face, I said (in yoruba) I’ll appreciate it if you let me go. Anger registered on his face. So he proceeded with more threats, “your 4 tires will be deflated, your car will be impounded” etc.. You will pay 50k… Hearing this, Zee looked to me and said oo de pe DIG ko ba wa bebe”.(Why not let’s call DIG to beg for us). With a straight face, I said, I have no money, I don’t know anybody. Whatever they can do to help, they should do. The guy was angry and asked us to proceed into the office he thought this will scare me, actually, I thought it will scare me into folding too.. But I did not let it. My mind was made up. Zee did not know this just yet.


As we parked, he was about to start his story again. I just came down, started to pack things in my bag… This is when Zee realized tht this boy has lost it ooo…. I asked her to get out of the car locked it and handed him the key. He was surprised too because he hesitated before he took the key from me. My mind was made up. I was scared ooo.. Cos I did not have 50k to pay from no where. But the guys annoying yoruba accent and that scammer calm that was all over him as he attempted to cajole me into coughing up hard earned money for his selfish use was disgusting as hell… So I forged on in my “fight against injustice” that was the consolation I gave myself when I thought about the 50k. I moved ahead of the pack and walked towards the office confidently like I owned the place.


Seeing this, Zee began to shed tears. I was embarrassed as hell… Choi!! I now began to yell… “what is this na?”.. Why are you crying? Am I going to jail ni?… She kept going on abt how she forced me to come to the area, that it was her fault… We were acting our oko ati iyawo (Husband and wife) drama as we walked towards the office. All this while the olopa in the police garbs, igbo man just kept quiet o… He was just watching. After a while. I noticed Zee was over doing the tears cos she felt it might work.. So I just played along and kept vexing for her onto the cry matter.. As per actor na!!!…


Like he was charmed, the guy deviated from the direction of the office and walked towards some guy.. The guy saw us and said” ki lo shele, shey kin ja ticket fun won ni?” (What is happening, should I give them the ticket?)… And gbam.. He saw Zee’s tears… His shoulders fell…. He begged her to stop, to no avail. You know those type tears that accelerate with the begging, my girl Zee was hooking us up with some of those. And we were 4 men standing around this wailing lady.. It wasn’t a good look at all… He then pulled me to one corner and started the story all over again.. Same talk about 50k psychiatric hospital and co… In the same order as the first scammer. At this point I was sure all these guys sat in a class onto this scam matter. They were in sync and for a weak mind, forget you will fall sha ni!! But as per “omo isale eko” I didn’t let him go far. I just told him my mind. He sighed, looked at the igbo man.. Wetin make we do. I caught a glimpse of the first scammer’s face, he was boiling… And I think he tried to make eye contact to no avail.


The igbo man took a second look at Zee’s tear filled face sighed and said “…. Make them dey go”. Scammer 2 had a philanthropist’s smile on his face, so did the igbo man! But the shame I was looking for was written all over scammer 1’s face. I was satisfied! Relieved and satisfied!! I am an actor oo… A pretty good one at that.. But this oscar goes to Zainab. A. Ikhaz.




My own addition to the story.

Mr Bey forgot to add that the moment he saw tears in my eyes, he was almost going to start crying. Though sincerely I was burnt and upset, 1. Cos Mr Bey refused to settle them, he wasn’t even ready to let us go to an ATM to give them the settlement. He was hell bent on doing it the “legal” way.

2. After a while I just figured that my tears might help and I increased the volume of my wailing . Roflmao. 50,000 ke? For passing one way? Dazz right. Lol.



The minute the policemen were out of sight Mr Bey and I just started laughing.

The Trip

In the spirit of Xmas, I decided to post a write up by Abiodun Kassim,

I cried when I read it, I’ve seen him perform it as a monologue, the emotional response from the audience was amazing and even though I had read it I cried yet again.
Please Read & Lemme Know what you think about it.

My name is Kunle I am 32 years old, I am a drug addict. I am addicted to marijuana, aka weed. i was not always an addict. Before my affliction or my disease as my mom and ex wife like to call it. I know you all will like to call it that too, but we are stuck here together so you can’t. And as a result we come up with names like “setbacks” “distractions”, hell some of us even call it our “stepping stone”…. That there is seeing the glass half full. So; before weed, I was a lieutenant in the Nigerian army, decorated, I was the first uniform man of my family and my family was proud, very proud. I remember clearly that my mom always carried the photo of my first day in boot camp with her, and she told everyone who cared to listen how I was the youngest in my platoon and how on the first day, she had to plead with the commandant not to lock me up because I smart mouthed him,
He called me a sissy, I was smiling and he asked what I was smiling at; (He was the one in tight shorts waving his crotch in the face of over 100 men and I was the sissy?) I told him my sister had the same pair of shorts but slightly bigger. You can imagine where it went from there. My dad….. He would boast amongst his friends, tell my siblings in Yoruba “e jade lo, e lo daran, my son….. Will get you out of trouble, he is a lieutenant in the army. Of all, my wife was the most proud, she had her car painted army green and almost got herself a uniform. She made a ritual of watching army wives religiously with her friends and twisted their arms to address her as lieutenant Mrs.………. “A.k.a iyawosoja” the 2 hours I spent in coaxing her not to get a plate number that said “Army wife 1” was longer than the 2 years I wooed her for. My daughter…….. Bundle of love and cuteness, 4 years old, her first word was practically “attention” with a cute salute. Teniola; always eager to learn; just like me. I remember one day at the park, I had just shown Teniola how to cross the road, we passed by another family who were playing, and the dad asked his little girl “why did the chicken cross the road?” my Teni just jumped in and said “because her daddy taught her” you look left then right then left again before you go; my daddy taught me. With her innocent voice she said; “but can a chicken do that? And which hand will her daddy hold? We all laughed. My family was proud and I loved them all.

That was my life as I knew it until one day; I had to join a battalion to Liberia for peace keeping. No one in my family supported the war, they were proud of their soldier as long as he did not have to kill people…. Go figure. It lasted for a whole 6 months contrary to the mandate that said 4 weeks. I longed to see my family, I missed little teni and her cute salute.

We were all happy when the ceasefire was called; it was all over, we were going home. Captain Danjuma passed round some neatly wrapped joints (weed) for celebrations; he called them the fat lady. We had a song we sang….. “When the fat lady sings, I am going home”. I put mine in my breast pocket, I don’t smoke but you dare not turn down your superior officer, who born monkey? I was more than ecstatic when I boarded the plane back home. I made a necklace of spent bullet casings for my girl and I couldn’t wait to give it to her and see that smile and salute, I couldn’t wait to hold and kiss my wife. I was excited like a little boy on his first trip to the zoo after reading many zoo books.

Night had fallen and it was pouring down heavily as the commando dispatch bus dropped me in front of my VI apartment complex. I stood for a second under the rain, took a deep breath, home still smelt the same, even in the rain…… the plush green grass, the smell of generator smoke in the air, flat 5 still bakes those cup cakes that Teniola loves so much. It was great to be home. I reached into my bag for the bullet casing necklace I made for my teni I couldn’t wait to give it to her. Surprisingly, the front door was unlocked Bisi is usually very security conscious, with teni Running around, doesn’t she know it is dangerous? I walked in and there was no one in sight “teni must be in bed”, I said to myself in a hush tone as though I will wake her if I were a tad louder. In the same hush tones, I started to call out to my wife, who also did not reply: this is weird, I thought. As I reached for my phone to call, Footsteps from the kitchen area made me look up and behold, it was Bisi. She didn’t look happy to see me, her face was blank, she wasn’t happy, she wasn’t sad, no anger, no love, no fear, just plain emotionless. ………. What is the problem? She stared on with no reply, where is Teniola? She still did not answer, so I began to get worried!!! Where is she???? “She is sleeping” she said, with the same blank look on her face. I thought as much, is she ok? I will check on her. As I headed for her room, she burst out.

“You killed her!!!! You!!!…. It was you who killed her. You and your stupid government, you killed my baby!!!” I was dumbfounded. What is she talking about? My heart was already broken, I could not process the idea, but the look on her face was scary. Her pupils were dilated. She had given up and I could see it. The beautiful eyes into which I looked while I said my marriage vows now spelt hate and were reading the eulogy of my wife and daughter. I am a soldier who has been away from home for a long time, I have lost my daughter, I am not about to lose my wife. So I held it all in, and held her close!!! Tight as though she was going to disappear if I let go. And in a soft tone I asked, what happened? She broke down. She cried for a good five minutes during which I shed my own tears without a drop of water. My face was rock solid, but inside, I was swimming in a pool of tears! My heart hurt more than the bullet wound that earned me my medal of honor. She wiped her tears and in sobs, she said….



………..“I was in the living room, the news was on, Teniola was beside me when they announced that your battalion will be returning home, I was excited, but not half as excited as Teni when I told her you were coming home! She jumped for joy and bolted up the stairs! I was sure she wanted to sleep early so she could see you in the morning! I stayed behind to finish the news! The news caster was re-reading the headlines when I heard a loud bang from upstairs! I rushed straight up to Teni’s room, but she was not there so I went straight to our room, and there she was, in a pool of her own blood! My baby was dead! Lying beside the anna montana handkerchief I bought her and your service pistol. She was trying to clean your gun like she saw you do many times before you get home!! You killed my baby!!”………..

I let her cry it all out, I held mine all in, I had to be strong for us both. She continued……

“I remember her asking me if she was a big girl now! I said yes, she was so happy; she wanted to do things for herself. I should have been paying attention, but you shouldn’t have left your gun lying around, you shouldn’t have filled her head with all your soldier mumbo jumbo…. Now she is gone!!! I hope you are happy!!! Your little soldier girl is waiting on you in heaven. My things are packed, I am leaving you. All I can see in this house and in you is her…… I can’t take it!!! I am sorry……. Hers is the smallest grave, the first you will see at the Victoria court cemetery when you enter in case you choose to seek her forgiveness.”……………

She left. I was dumbfounded, where does this leave me? She was right, maybe a little selfish with the blame but she was right…. I should have allowed her be herself, I should have been there. I figured something out, not until you have shed tears, real tears you have not touched manhood. All the gunshots, bombings, fights, testosterone, and deaths from the war were luxury compared to the ache of guilt I felt in my heart….. I could not hold the tears back! They rolled down my cheeks freely like a waterfall. I had lost everything, I had reached the end. No wonder why my family refused to call me or check on me. They blamed me too? I had nothing, I had no one. I remembered rope course from boot camp and how they taught us to tie knots that can save lives. I kept staring at the iron and its wire and all I could think about was tying knots… but this time, I was thinking about taking my life with the knots. I am going to hang myself. I was about to transcend into another world, I had “tied the knot” tight enough to make sure I hang till death do us part, I was ready for my journey, and maybe I will see my daughter again… I did not want to be seen in my military garbs, they did not seem to bring me much luck. Let me go the way I came. I wanted to go in my birthday suit. While I took off my shirt to prepare for the voyage, something fell out of the breast pocket; it was the wrap of weed the captain had handed me back in Liberia. I smiled to myself as I saw the fat lady and thought…. Why not have a taste before I go! This is how it all begun.

After my first drag, I saw a man, dark skin, tight bell bottom pants, shirtless. He had a wrap of weed 3 times as big as mine in his hand with his golden saxophone hanging from his neck like a massive medal. The background music was soft afro beat and it was just, Fela, I and a lot of smoke. He said to me…

……” if you ever heard my story boy, you will know that our country asked me to bend over and screwed me more times than a town whore. They locked me up, killed my mother and tried to drive me crazy… what did I do? I smoked, danced, married and bore children!!! …. Trust me son, suicide is not the way, you no even get the liver, all Na shakara”……

I laughed hard as he did his signature dance to “shakara oloje” and disappeared into the smoke. After that experience, I took Fela’s advice and stuck to smoking… on different days, I will meet different people. Gandhi, hale selassi, Bob Marley, on some days, I will find myself back in Liberia, helping people out. They all kept me happy. The fat lady really sang some sweet tune. She saved my life and gave me a new life! Maybe not as admirable as I would have wanted it, but I lived!!!

I was happy, but the real reason I got hooked was my daughter, every now and then, after I smoke, she will appear to me and tell me stories about heaven, teach me some songs from there, she was still cute as ever, her salute still made me smile. She was still proud of me. She said she wanted to join the army in heaven, but it was already full, she thinks if she eats well and grows big like the angels she saw, God may give her a second thought… (She is just the sweetest… isn’t she?). I saw her yesterday, and she baffled me with her words, shee said to me……….

…….“daddy, I really need to talk to you o… I Love you and I am proud of you. You know someone else who loves you? God, I asked him if you could come early because I see you are sad and I know you will be happier playing with me in the garden and pushing me on the swings but he says you are a big boy and you will be fine, he will call you when it’s your turn. Daddy, everybody is here, soldiers, lawyers, doctors, even some presidents, everyone dad!!! It’s so colorful here just like in my book of bible stories. Here, I am not a kid, I know everything and I know why you see me, and I know it makes you happy, but don’t you want to make it permanent? I do! I want you to be here with me. Drug addicts are here too daddy …. But they had to change, they had to stop. Please daddy, I want us to be together forever, I want you to stop…. I love you daddy”……

so Here I am, I was never the type to seek help or come to these type meetings, my daughter directed me here….. She says you can help me………

Can You?

I Hate Love

I kind of agree with my friend on this, its not the feeling he hates, its the word “love” please read and let me know what you think.

Love!!!!!…… I hate it! You know why?… it trivializes the essence of a beautiful phenomenon!!! The world today is deluded that the togetherness of two members of the opposite sex with some attraction is based on love!!!! That is bullshit!!! You see… How does love want to describe a nice smell in her hair that you always remember and smile at… Or the foul smell her breath gives off that you cannot stand but learn to put up with! How does love describe the sexiness of all the other women and his ability to constantly find a reason to remind himself that she is the only one, what does it say about all the cars and money that other men have, and why she sticks to his broke ass who has nothing but a dollar and a dream! How does love describe wanting her and knowing what she is like and what you like about her way before you ever see her, what does it say about her preparing herself for him all her life without any guarantee that she will ever meet him… Truth is, I can go on and on!!!! Many relationships don’t last because both parties are looking for love and looking away from each other!
I don’t love you!!! I don’t know if you love me!!! But I see you! And it is you I want to be with! It is the smell of your hair I want to remember… (Promise to keep it real!.. “The hair I mean” :)) it is your mouth I want to help brush!! It is your kids I want to hold, scold and teach to be bold!…… It is you I want to share with, it is you I want to keep up all night selfishly while drinking with my boys (ps: I don’t even drink!:)) and expect you to vex and scold me! But forgive me even before you do the scolding! It is your nagging I want to endure for 60 years and later start to laugh at it…….. It is your savings I want to feast on after gambling away our children’s trust funds (I don’t gamble)……. In essence, I want to look forward to all the hard times we will have together! Because contrary to what “LOVE” protrays,… We will have them!!!! And I will be there through it all knowing for sure that it is alll worth it…. I DONT LOVE YOU!!!!!!…….. I DON’T!!… Please don’t love me back!!!! 🙂

Fact or Fiction????

Before you go further, i’ll like you to prepare your mind for a trip,down the mind of this writer and at the end of this story, i need you to answer the question, Fact or Fiction??? what do you think……

Written by Abbey Kassim @abiodunkssm

Yinka and gbenga had just concluded their break dance, Ben and bimbo were also walking off the stage after announcing that we were cutting to commercial, the lady sitting to my right gave out a classy yawn which led me to quickly glance at my phone. YE!!!10pm I thought in my head (breaking the part of the opening dance where the savior and his followers were ascending to heaven while the non believers on another side were fighting to free themselves from a sudden bondage that befell them). I am not driving today I need to leave immediately so I can get a bike or at least a bus home.

Dakore had not performed so at this point, I was torn between waiting to see her perform or just leave for safety. Na December we dey oooo!!! (I reminded myself). The couple sitting to my left began to murmur about finding the exit and I thought to myself, this will be the perfect time to escape; but I still wanted to see Dakore as I had enjoyed her last performance. As I thought to myself, let me stay for at least one more performance even if it’s not dakore’s, I looked across the stage to get a glimpse of the Anabel team (Anabel Mobile is an associate sponsor for the show and they had come to inspect the show for how much publicity they were getting for the phones they were giving out.) they too were about to leave. I had to meet them outside and kiss their ass a little bit so they don’t make me look bad in front of the boss man. So I thought to myself, I guess I will watch the broadcast show on Saturday.
I grabbed my backpack and hurried for the door; as I scurried through the rows like a big rat, my race to the end zone was punctuated by a stumble that almost left me face down on the floor but for the strong arms of the angel who sat in the chair responsible for the break in the first place. What a strong dude I thought. As I looked up to say thanks, I caught a glimpse of this pretty chic, the hands still held my shoulders firmly so I traced the arms back to the pretty face I saw when I first looked up. In sheer embarrassment, I mumbled a quick sorry, she asked if I was ok and I nodded without looking at her. I was about to say more when a loud voice yelled through the speakers “we are live in 10.., 9..,” so I grabbed my bag and continued to end my quest for the exit.

Outside, I walked up to the Anabel team who were already looking puzzled. My appearance drew a look of relief on 2 of their faces but one face changed from puzzled to stern so I decided to address that one. I am sorry for the delay I said; I hope you enjoyed the show? Surprisingly, with a smile, “it was wonderful thank you” he said. We chatted a little and I bade them farewell.
The colorful Anabel official car had pulled out to the Lekki streets and turned towards Ajah when I realized I could have asked for a ride (at this point I was kicking myself in the nuts). The sound of my own voice in my head blaming me for losing the ride was drowned by the voice of a lady, “the car is locked and the driver is nowhere to be found” she was the other half of the couple that sat to my left while we were in the shoot or that is what I thought until her supposed other half walks up to me, introduces himself as a lawyer and hands me his card. I told him what I do and gave him my card as well. He asked where I stayed and I told him, he said he lived around but he was going to vi with his “FRIEND” “maybe we could hang out some other time” he said and I thought that was the weirdest thing I will hear until he asked if I was single hooked or married, with little hesitation , I said “married” he went on to ask where my wife was, ( “I kinda thought he looked and sounded queer” I said in my head) “at home,….. We just got married and we are supposed to be staying in, but duty calls!!” I replied. With what was the most confusing expression I had ever seen (which made it hard for me to tell if I had been caught in a lie or I had successfully evaded a fruity stalker), he said “cool, buzz me sometime”. He got in the car where his “FRIEND” was still scolding the driver and they drove off.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, I had just received a message, and it was Skye bank, something about a test for the next day I hissed…. I used the opportunity to look at the time it was now 10:30 pm and I needed to hurry home. I tightened my grip around the right handle of my backpack as I walked briskly towards the road side to flag down a bike. I must have been waiting for about 15 minutes and no bike came so I decided to cross to the other side of the road where I was most likely to find a bike heading towards Ajah. Still clutching tight to my backpack, I made my way across the now less busy road as opposed to the heavy traffic from about 2 hours ago.

In less than five minutes 3 bikes had passed and refused to go to Ajah; after a few minutes, a bike man stopped in front of me, I don’t remember seeing him let alone flagging him down I must have been deep in thought (after all I live in my head….. don’t I??) “You dey go?” I said, he replied in the thick Hausa accent “where?” “Ajah” he then thought for a few seconds and said “I no go!!!” I stepped back and looked away. (Desperate In my mind…. But I could not beg! I no for like carry last) he made as though he was about to ride off then paused for a second and said a quick but audible “N500” in an attempt to bluff I thought of saying don’t worry but my “inner mind” sharply called me to order (guy, e be like say u no go like reach house today abi??) quickly I said ok and hopped on the bike.

My backpack had moved from my back to my laps with my arms tightly wrapped around it. I was squinting as the wind felt like it was going to blow my head off. I was enjoying the ride so much that I fell deep in thought AGAIN!!!! In my head, this time, (I seemed to know all the moves from the opening dance and I sashayed all over the floor with Paolo and the rest. It was beautiful and the applause was more than warm; the smiles made me feel rich and famous. Just as I was about to take the microphone from Ben and respond to a comment from pastor Segun, the wind became subtle, It had transformed from the tornado it was to a cool breeze. This brought me back to life, we were slowing down I held on to my backpack a little tighter as I was starting to panic “wetin happen?” I inquired; trying my hardest to disguise the panic. “I wan collect my money for here before we reach bus stop, I no want police and agbero wahala” he replied me while he motioned to turn around and get paid. I then thought that it is true, this has happened to me a bunch of times I have been doing this okada thing for a minute now and this is not the first time this is happening. I stopped panicking and reached for my wallet, pulled out a mint N500 note and handed it to him; “Oya” I said. He turned the key and pressed on the ignition button but the bike won’t start. He tries it again and again.

I had noticed her earlier; she must have been there for about 10 minutes now, across the road she stood skimpily clad and comfortable. I wondered; this lady will make a bad business person, who displays their goods where no one can stop to see. Why do you think the gala guy chooses to display in traffic? “Well that is her business” I thought to myself as I made to help get the bike started. Suddenly, the lady starts across the road in haste like she was being pursued by some wild beast. “Ole, thief!” she screamed as she dashed by us headed for the bushes, the bike man dropped his screw driver and followed her without hesitation! “At this point, I was confused as hell; the only time I was ever this confused was the day I hit a bike man and in less than 10 seconds, I was seeing more bikes than I had ever seen in my life. I quickly looked across the road to see what could be going on; I picked up some movement around the warehouse parked across the road from where I stood and took off after the pair who I thought will be safely hidden by now. Upon dashing through the first few layers of bushes, to my utmost amazement, I landed into a clearing where three figures were standing over a kneeling figure.

Clutching my backpack extremely tightly I started to move back until my stride was broken by a loud “abeg just take one more step so I go fit test this new machine” so I did the smart thing and halted like I was on parade in camp and platoon commander yelled halt. “Oya go collect him bag” another deep voice said. “Come here!!” I was not sure who said this but like a zombie, I walked towards the three figures. “Warri Abbey “”was saying run ode, that tin no be gun” he had a point because as I moved closer what seemed to look like a pump action was starting to look like a police baton. “Ikoyi abbey” was saying “don’t listen to him oooo! Nothing in this bag is worth your life; I am damn sure you want to see jameelah and zayd again.” I listened to the guy from Ikoyi as I thought he was more rational. As I got closer to the group, I noticed that the bike man was the one kneeling on the floor and the third figure was the lady “alakoba I thought in regret”; most importantly, I got a good look at the pump action and noticed that “Warri abbey” was quite right but the guy must have been from Warri too because he was quite proactive.

Suspecting that I will run, he reached for me first as; he approached my backpack with his arms, I felt the weakness in his grip and “Warri abbey” took over; there was no struggle as I easily yanked the bag out of his grip and took to my heels without looking back. Bursting unto the road, I headed for the next lit building like I was trying to beat Hussein bolts record. On getting there, I reached for my phone in my pocket to get the time and call for help or something, but I could not find it. I was still considering going back for my phone (as I loved it so much and needed as much now) when jameelah yells, “uncle abbey pick up your phone” from inside my bag that is when I remembered I had put it there while trying to pay for the bike. It was mummy, she was wondering why I was running late, I explained to her and she made me stay there until uncle Fela and musa came to get me.

Post Navigation