I’m awake watching The Experience on TV. I don’t even know who’s singing right now neither do I know the song but I guess I just need something to add a bit of spice to my poignant mood. We’ve just witnessed the […]
I’m awake watching The Experience on TV. I don’t even know who’s singing right now neither do I know the song but I guess I just need something to add a bit of spice to my poignant mood.
We’ve just witnessed the biggest rape of the judiciary in the history of Nigeria. A sitting judge had to be quickly ushered out of the courtroom. The temple of justice has just been desecrated and trampled upon by the powers that be.
While I have spoken so gloriously about the courtroom, I have never ever talked about the risk, danger and palpable tension which sometimes characterises court sitting.
Sometimes last month, we sat on a very sensitive union matter. From morning when we got to the court premises, everywhere was filled with unionists in uniforms, chanting slogans with their buses. They were headed to my court. The security department had to make a request to the chief registrar to acquire more policemen just for a single sitting. Of course, there’s usually a police attached to every courtroom but certain times like this, they call for reinforcements.
They were acting on a tip off that some charlatans among them were going to cause trouble.
Milord was told to address them after delivering his ruling that anyone who looked for trouble would be whisked away as there were security operatives around.
They filled the courtroom to the brim. We kept bringing in more chairs for them. I don’t know about others but I had a sense of foreboding. My heart was beating fast. I kept imagining all that could go wrong if the ruling didn’t favour them. This union is one of the most daring, deadly unions in Nigeria.
As they filed out of the courtroom later, they started causing trouble downstairs. They initiated an attack against the chairman of the opposing side. They wanted to kidnap him. It took great efforts for him to be rescued. Our lives too were at risk but we summoned courage and sat with stony faces. Most of my colleagues didn’t even come, it was just two of us I guess.
At another time, we had sat on a very popular trending labour union matter in Nigeria. All the unionists chartered a bus to the court wearing their uniforms. Court was filled. Tv stations came. Security had to be beefed up for us.
Sometimes, I go to court with my heart in my mouth. My court is the busiest and gets the most sensitive cases and sometimes W does not remember to alert security about sensitive matters coming up.
I was wondering what I would have done if what happened at Federal High Court had taken place in my court. Of course, I would have scampered to safety begging God to spare me.
That’s the obvious risk attached to sitting in court that no one tells you about.
So still smarting from those issues above, I was gobsmacked when two of my neighbors started arguing last night. Before I knew it, a tussle started. It was a big war. They began to beat themselves like two rams at ileya locking horns to the delight of a cheering crowd on a field, market place or public road.
Only that, they are both husbands. One with a few days old baby and another with a less than two year old baby. Both father of girls. One works with the presidency while the other is a roadside mechanic according to compound gossip. The other, is the second husband of my neighbor who claimed Mr Banji was my sugar daddy.
The mech said he was going to kill the other. He dragged him and overpowered him. He began to pummel him right behind my window. I wasn’t fully clad so I only peeped into the dark night shouting blood of Jesus. But, the blood of Jesus is even too precious to be called in such circumstances. What’s Jesus’ business with two unreasonable fellas who were obviously egotistical and could not reason because of their male pride? I should have called the blood of zecharias instead.
These guys didn’t bother to think about the future of their kids in a country like Nigeria. They were not even worried that they were living in bleak times, all they cared about was to get even and kill each other.
Mind you, this wasn’t the first time they engaged in a brawl. The last time they did this, one of them had to invite the police and the other was whisked to the station. I mean, policemen actually came to the compound that night. It was past midnight. I was tired and angry. I had worked all through the day and they were denying me my night sleep. My bedroom window directly faces their parlour.
So, I made up my mind this evening.
I think I’ve had it enough already. I’m probably taking a walk out of this environment soon. I can’t keep up with their shenanigans, with their lack of sense and obvious incredulity. Simpletons who live for the bottle.
I think it was Craig David who sang “I’m walking away, from troubles in my life, I’m walking away, going to have a better day”. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do in 2020.
Okay, let me start from yesterday. I had a totally good day until evening. I went to utako in the morning. I saw Jonathan Eze. He just came in from Enugu the previous day. I started avoiding him since he is fond […]
Okay, let me start from yesterday. I had a totally good day until evening.
I went to utako in the morning. I saw Jonathan Eze. He just came in from Enugu the previous day. I started avoiding him since he is fond of saying
“Yetunde, something is wrong with you o”
I would say yes. Of course. That’s right.
Yesterday as well, after talking about Abuja, his job, his family and all, he started again with concern
“But you are not okay o”
I said yes. That is correct.
“Who do you talk to? Who advises you? Is there any elder in your family I can talk to?”
This is the part where I remove my shoes in wild bewilderment, hold my head and laugh like mad.
“Are you for real? I don’t even have a family”.
He demands to talk to someone in my family every goddamn time.
I really don’t know what I will do with him. When will he believe that I don’t have family members?
So, that’s for the early part of my day.
My friend in Kaduna, the mompreneur whom I talked about had called. It was a video call and I got to see her fine son.
Until the later part of the evening when I saw something that triggered some of the dead pain inside me and I became instantly depressed. I was so depressed that I could hardly breathe so I decided to call this recently acquired elder brother of mine and after talking with him he said, let me pray for you.
I said I didn’t want to pray but he could go ahead and pray if he wanted to. It was that bad. I wasn’t even sure I was going to say amen.
So he began to pray and pray and pray and all of a sudden, his voice began to quake…kasala
Then he began to cry. Wahala de. As he was crying, I bin dey cry too. You wouldn’t have believed that I was extremely happy for the most part of the day. This life sha. Yeah, I’ve had friends cry with me from time to time. Like KGB. Like my friend in the UK. We were talking/chatting about some issues and they began to cry for me. My friends are the best aswearugad!
KGB is a wonderful friend and brother. He’s the one my dad used to call ogbeni ota.
Dad would mistakenly dial his number sometimes when he wants to call me. How did Dad get his number? I used to recruit them yearly to give my dad a surprise call on his birthday. They would call and introduce themselves, “hello Daddy, my name is KGb, I am yetunde’s friend, happy birthday bla bla bla. It used to make his day. He would be excited, call me and say your friend ogbeni ota just called me. KGB legit cried for me one time when I told him about me. Same for OBF1. He kept following me around till some of my senses were restored. My head was not correct then too😀. So Jonathan Eze knows what he’s saying.
OBF2 would rather not cry with me but he’d drive me out without saying a word, give me tissue from his car, then drive me back to the office. Like they do in the abroad and in the movies😀. Very matured something. No judgements, no questions and we don’t ever talk about it. He respects my privacy. But that was mostly when I was bereaved.
So I was saying that, this elder brother, married with kids, began to shed tears for me till he had to stop the call abruptly. He called back twice and I didn’t pick again. He added to my sorrow, honestly. But again, it was somehow comforting. I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night till about 2 or 3am this morning. Then I woke up by 5am. He called that he was leaving Lagos.
I sha dragged myself out of bed later. I didn’t feel like going anywhere today but I had to be at a compulsory party. I was there, still moody, taking in everything they were doing absentmindedly, still wiping off stray tears from my side eye.
Wait for it,
It was time to dance.
It was more of a female gathering. Men were very few I could count them. We listened to a couple of Xmas songs which brought back memories.
Then the DJ changed the gbedu and all hell broke loose. I saw some girls run to the DJ and talked to him in whispers. I didn’t know it was for him to play a particular song for them. Immediately this strange vibrating beat came on, they grew wild with frenzy, throwing their arms and legs in the air. They screamed and ran excitedly to the centre, jiggling their frail bodies to the rhythm. Married women forgot their home training and status. They shook that part of their body that should not be named.
I just kept hearing
“Bolanle, bolanle pepper them o”
I was confused. Like, is this part of my midlife crisis? Who is bolanle? What’s her state of origin? Who is she peppering? Why are they all so excited?
Alas, I couldn’t get answers.
My TV is dusty as we speak. Never been put to good use. I haven’t put it on in months. One spirit has been whispering at me to sell my fridge and TV and use the money to buy chocolate cookies and freezer. But how will you know I have arrived if you come to my house and I don’t have a TV?
So, I am not in the social circle. I don’t know what is going on. But with the kind of crazy revival that bolanle is causing on the street, will bolanle make heaven like this? What is it about that bolanle that makes the atmosphere change?
However, I enjoyed watching the dance moves. Why will children of these days not dance until they stick out their tongues like warapa things?
I saw my brother dancing this frog jump dance when they came to Abuja in May. I didn’t understand it until I later saw it on social media. I didn’t even know it’s the latest.
So this is how old age creeps up on you unawares?
So as much as I was depressed to bed last night and wondered if God would ever show up, it was something exciting that woke me up by 5.16am this morning. I ignored it at first and later decided to check. Let’s just say, it helped me make the decision to get out of bed faster.
And just as I was about to post this article, I received a message on my official email. The best news I’ve been waiting for. Lets just say this also got me excited.
Then, they called me from the office and said my vegetable oil is ready. Do i want it now? It’s part of the cow sharing gig. The cow still comes later.
Then, while I was talking to my colleague at work, comparing airline prices, asking about arik and air peace and I dropped the call, a barrister had called. Let’s just say that conversation was one I needed.
Let’s not also forget that Jonathan Eze promised yesterday to book me on the same fight with him to lagos. And offered me lace for his sister’s wedding. If next week is free for me, I don’t have to worry about how to get out of here. I know I may turn it down though. I cant stay in the south from next week till New year. Nah.
I guess this is just a way God says “hey, even though life won’t make sense at times, I’m still here. Take this and that.
That NJC stuff is doing me gizgiz. See levels now. Working with two giant federal government offices? Ok, let us now share the grace. The end.
When I was just thinking of writing(boasting actually)about a friend of mine who just completed her doctorate degree and has earned putting the Ph.D status in front of her name, she left me a message on WhatsApp during the week that left […]
When I was just thinking of writing(boasting actually)about a friend of mine who just completed her doctorate degree and has earned putting the Ph.D status in front of her name, she left me a message on WhatsApp during the week that left me screaming. I even had to call her immediately.
This friend of mine has been one very brilliant lady right from when I met her. She wanted to study medicine but she was given physiology. After 100l, she had a very high 4points CGPA that earned her a transfer to medicine. Her name actually came out on the list and we all jubilated. Few days later, to her chagrin, her name was removed. One of the politics and problems bedeviling nigerian tertiary institutions. It was a daylight robbery. I don’t know how she rose from it.
If it was me, it would have destabilized and demoralized me completely. Imagine having to go back and tell everyone who had rejoiced with her that her name had been removed. It would have killed me. Reminds me of what they usually say that God won’t allow you to pass through something that passes your power. Maybe this is true. I honestly do not have the capacity. When I went through something close to this in my own later years, I lived in complete denial and couldn’t tell anyone.
She graduated with honours. Called me when she gained admission to the prestigious premier University for her Masters. She visited me at home in Ibadan. Come and see how my parents were gushing over her after she left.
Dad was like “you mean that small girl is already doing her masters?”
Mum was like “did you give her yam from the store? You said she came from school right? Did you find anything for her from the kitchen?”
I said no.
She told me she was disappointed in me. Toh. She already left sha. But she ate pounded yam when she came 😁😂😀
It was also a status symbol for me that my friend was doing masters.
She finished and immediately gained admission to the fast paced university of ilorin for her doctorate. In between, she learnt tailoring while at Ibadan. She stayed in agbowo then but I visited her once or twice.
She had only one wish. To be a lecturer. But it wasn’t forthcoming. She submitted many applications. She travelled round the country. She kept me informed about her efforts. It was a trying period. I couldn’t have gone through it and survive like I said. I just can’t.
She couldn’t get a job. But this is where her story gets inspiring.
However, even though she couldn’t study medicine, she got married to a medical doctor and now she’s also a doctor of books😁. She met this medical doctor while studying for her masters at UI. Their love story is another interesting web as he had to travel to Ukraine to study medicine after graduating in physiology.
My friend and I picked him together from the airport in Abuja the day he came back to this country and that was my first time of meeting him.
If you’ve been following this blog closely, you would have remembered their story by now because it was covered on this blog.
They got married, got blessed with a healthy son, she finished her PhD and boom, she left this message that: she finally got a job. The lecturing job she had been seeking all these years. She didn’t want any other field. She tailored her search to the field of lecturing.
Now wait for it, it was our Alma mater that gave her the job. She’s going to be working in the same department she graduated from many years ago, she’s going to be lecturing other students in the same classroom where she was a student many years ago.
God finally came through for her in a great way, at the best time, without a struggle.
Her story inspired me greatly and I thought to share. I didn’t even do enough justice because I didn’t ask for her permission before writing. I had to skip many parts.
But hers is a story of perseverance, dedication and focus.
She’s the only married friend whose house I’ve visited and slept in. If you are my married friend, chances are, that I’d never even visit your house or sleep if I’m not also friends with your husband.
Ask boyede. She’s my only friend in Abuja. I’ve met her husband once and I can say they are a lovely couple. She’s been telling me that “my husband said you should come for a visit and sleep over”. I’ve been using her to do ‘askor’ because their place is very far from mine.
When I visited my PhD friend in osogbo, we stayed in the parlour and gisted with her husband. My other married friend, D was around too. It was a lovely night. Then we all prayed together and went to bed.
So far, all my close friend’s husbands are the best. We’ve all become good friends. My friendship with their wives has extended to them and we are all good together.
My friend in Kaduna, who moved from bodija to kaduna so to speak😂😀😁,(it was a mighty move and I can’t seem to get over it.) I haven’t met her husband physically but he’s a complete gentleman. Why did I say so?
I went to visit my friend at her shop. By the way, she’s part of my inner circle too. She’s more of like my main chick in the north.😁😀
She has a Masters degree from the premier University as well and is now a proud fashionpreneur(she has the largest couture shop in eyebrow barnawa, close to kaduna poly),a mompreneur(she’s managing two boys) and a wifepreneur(she’s wife to a public speaker extraordinaire, banker, pastor, not necessarily in that order😉). That guy is a husband not a horseband because he left his only beautiful camry for my friend and goes to work on his own without a car. Not that he works in another town o. No, he goes to work and comes back home every blessed day. No, I haven’t ever seen such selflessness and love in all of Israel.😀
My friend drove that car to first pick their son from school, then drove me to this Amala joint where she bought me ogunfe and pounded yam. All credits to her husband.
My PhD friend’s husband drove me to the park at osogbo, bought a copy of my book and has been a complete gentleman and husband.
What about my friend in US and her husband? Let me not start their own too.
But, brethren, how did I start talking about my friend’s husbands when I only wanted to talk/brag about my friend who got a PhD and a lecturing job same year? Am I alright like this?
Long and short of it is that, everything good will come(that’s the title of one of my posts). You may not know when but God always come through. In a very big way. If you’ve been waiting for something, do not despair. It might still come this year, or it might come at the best of time.
If this post has blessed you, kindly hit the share button or drop a comment below. Tainx😀😉🖐️✋
Well I have. And it shocks me every damn time. I met an old man on the plane one day. I had a window seat. A friend of mine was sitting at the middle, sleeping. At a point, this friend of mine […]
Well I have. And it shocks me every damn time.
I met an old man on the plane one day. I had a window seat. A friend of mine was sitting at the middle, sleeping. At a point, this friend of mine requested that I vacate my window seat for her so that she could enjoy the view. Besides, it was a night journey. We would be getting to Lagos by 8pm. It was the airline’s last flight out of Abuja that night. The sky was scary, red at some point, pitch black somewhere else. Whirring sound most times, turbulence sometimes.
This calm old man was sitting at the aisle on our row. He was the third person. We didn’t talk at all. We only exchanged smiles and polite nods. When the hostess started giving us water, he helped us hand it over, with the customary cakes and biscuit in a pack.
He dozed at some points. I was awake. I watched people as they slept peacefully. A pregnant lady was behind me and a young guy was sharing the word with her.
Grandpa wore a white agbada and I think he must have been studying me under his closed eyelids.
When we got to lagos, I didn’t even know how to get to my destination. Flight had been delayed and my son couldn’t pick me as planned. He asked me to pick an Uber and start coming to sango ota that night. He would then drive down and pick me along the way.
Airport cabs were telling me 6k. Grandpa came along, asked where I was headed. He was waiting for his driver too but they were headed to surulere. Grandpa said he could have gone to drop me if I was heading along his way but that sango and surulere were different routes. He stood with me and expressed worry and concern for me especially because it was night.
When his driver called that he was around, grandpa took me to one of the airport cabbies and told him to ensure I get home. He told cabbie to reduce price for me.
Cabbie, a yoruba man too took up my matter and was about to take me when my daughter called that she was driving down to pick me. I have four biological children now in case you didn’t know, including a grandchild😁😀.
Cabbie turned to me and said “just continue to be good, you hear? When we see good people, we know them”.
Me that I’m a bad person. 😀
I still think about grandpa with the white beard occasionally. I remember him and I’m grateful to him. Even the cabman too. They never asked for my digits. They were just being kind. I may never see them again but I can’t forget them.
The second stranger I can never forget is this Abuja driver I met at Iwo road. I was visiting Abuja for the first time and I joined his car from Iwo road. I sat down directly behind him. We took off.
Dude kept checking me out through the rear view mirror. Every body was talking but I kept quite, lost in my thoughts. I didn’t say a word to anyone, didn’t laugh at jokes, didn’t buy dodo at ikire, didn’t buy akara at ile ife, didn’t hustle for bread or anything on the road.
When we got to ibillo, dude parked the car for everyone to come down and eat. Everyone went down except me.
Dude couldn’t take it any longer. He came to meet me
“Aunty pls come down and eat pounded yam. I beg you in the name of God. I will pay for it”
I couldn’t laugh.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry sir”
Bhet you haven’t eaten anything since morning. I’ve been watching you. Pls, don’t starve yourself, if it is because of money, don’t worry I will pay for it. Pls, come and eat. Even if it is small. Or should I buy you a drink? You are the only one sitting in this car while everyone has gone to eat. Aren’t you hungry since morning?”
I could not laugh.
This guy beged me continually to come down and eat pounded yam o. He eventually talked me into getting down to stretch my legs instead.
Thank God other passengers didn’t hear us. If not, they would have thought I was his girlfriend or something with the way he was begging me.
I still didn’t budge but I came down from the car and stood.
We continued the journey. When I got to airport road in Abuja where I lived before, he took my number and told me to always call him whenever I wished to travel. He said there was no need for me to go to jabi. He said I should just call him and he would leave a seat for me and pick me from airport road. I thought that was a good idea and I gave him my number.
He called occasionally to check on me when he didnt hear from me.
He would say something like
“Ahn ahn, won’t you travel? I just got to Abuja o and I’m leaving for ibadan tomorrow morning. I just said I should tell you”
I would smile and say no, I wouldn’t be travelling soon.
We kept in touch.
When I eventually went back home, I asked him to help me collect kilishi from a friend in Abuja.
This guy got the kilishi and brought it to ibadan. I met him at Iwo road to collect it.
I lost touch with him and didn’t see him again till two years ago. I was in the car thinking about him when he suddenly showed up. He still recognised me. I first met him in 2012 and this was 2017.
We greeted like long lost friends. His car was still on the queue. I couldn’t come down to join his car. I didnt collect his digits again and I haven’t gone to Iwo road in ages. We’ve lost touch but I can’t forget him.
The third person is this okada rider who picked me on my way from work one afternoon and now, I keep seeing him everywhere on my street. Sometimes, if I’m on a bike, he will chase me just to say hi. Whenever he’s lucky to see me walking, he quickly stops to carry me anywhere I want to go.
The fourth person is OBF2.
I told him I was following him because of the pounded yam he was buying for me. Dude laughed. He must have thought I was joking. This guy would run many errands for me, even pick me from Asokoro to Garki.
When I moved to Garki, he had moved before me. Sometimes, this year, dude had come to ask me if it was okay for him to have a woman…like a girlfriend 😀😁. I no fit laugh.
Oga, why would you seek my permission for that
The way he even came sheepishly, soberly, with a serious face, speaking in low tones in open court was scary.
“I just came to ask you if it’s okay for me to get close to another girl that I can get married to”.
I felt so much pity for him when he said this and my respect for him grew. I told him he had my blessings.
So he started with a girl.
Two months later, he told me he was no longer with the girl.
But why are you telling me oga?
He did this back and forth with the girl till he finally received sense and got married to her in October. I saw him last week and he said he was moving to another house and that I must come to visit him and his wife. I met the girl of course. He brought her to the office. I hugged her.
OBF2 would still move and arm and a leg for me and still invite me to his matrimonial home when he has only been a pounded yam buddy to me. #sighs# the things that happeninsidelife#
Remember my neighbor who makes badass jollof? Her husband dropped three tubers of yam in front of my door yesterday afternoon while I was sleeping. My door was locked permanently throughout yesterday because I slept throughout. When I woke up after the […]
Remember my neighbor who makes badass jollof? Her husband dropped three tubers of yam in front of my door yesterday afternoon while I was sleeping. My door was locked permanently throughout yesterday because I slept throughout. When I woke up after the second round of sleep and opened my window, he knocked and said he left something for me by my door. Then, he drove out. I went out and met this.👉👉👉
So I quickly went upstairs to thank his wife. I was so happy ehn. Yam is my best food. With eggs. And I didn’t even have any yam at home.
As I was about to leave her house, she went to her freezer and brought out chunks of raw meat for me. I was lost for words. I went to say thank you for the yams and I got meat too.
And to think I wanted to leave this house. I went in search of apartments in the middle of this year and couldn’t see any one I liked. So I painfully paid again. I wanted to leave because I am tired of the environment and my walls are peeling.
Infact, each time I look at my wall, I remember Beyonce’s song, the one we mastered so well in secondary school and used to claim big girl that year.
“Remember those walls I built
Baby they are tumbling down
They didn’t even put up a fight
They didn’t even make a sound
I found a way to let you in
Bla bla….. “
If you didn’t sing or cram ‘halo’ by Beyonce that year, then your teenage years aren’t complete. Go back and complete your teenage years in Ibadan please.
The walls in my room right now are tumbling down without putting up a fight or making a sound.
And it irritates me every blessed day. It annoys me. The walls need screeding. My landlord is a very nice man but he won’t do it for me. He actually tried doing it last year when I complained but he ended up painting my house with pink instead of burnt orange.
I was saying, if I had left, I wouldn’t have been blessed with yams and meat. Now, yesterday wasn’t the first time she gave me meat. She brought meat for me last month or so. She said her husband brought plenty so she came to give me out of it. She then promised that she’d always give me meat whenever they have.
She brought me peppered meat during the last sallah. Even the jollof she gave me two years ago, I’ve not repaid that kindness till date. You all read that story about how my gas finished as I was trying to cook fried rice that year.
This is the only neighbor whose house I enter freely…like thrice in a year that is. She comes to my apartment more. I’m not good with visits.
I should improve and go out more next year. I was invited to a book launch somewhere in Wuse today but I developed this huge headache after church. The fear of coming back home when it’s dark also kept me indoors.
Milord lost his inlaw today. I just saw that on the Court’s Whatsapp group. Speaking of Whatsapp, I hate that app so much😁
That’s why you can hardly catch me there. There are messages I forget to respond to. And again, because Milord is on my Whatsapp, that’s why I don’t have a profile picture there. I don’t want him to catch me on one of my crazy days or see my shenanigans when i’d be eating kilishi and making a video of it to spite my friend, prisca’s diary. He can’t even see my status😁
While I’m here waiting for my slaughtered cow parts in few days, let me go and cook the meat my neighbor gave me.
I started my annual leave on Monday but I still went to work that day and the next. But other than yesterday when I went to the national stadium, I’ve been totally indoor. I promised myself that I would not see the […]
I started my annual leave on Monday but I still went to work that day and the next. But other than yesterday when I went to the national stadium, I’ve been totally indoor. I promised myself that I would not see the sun this entire week especially since Abuja sun is so crazy during harmattan.
Last week Thursday, when I went to tell(remind) Milord that i would be away, he looked at me and said
“Are you travelling?”
“You just want to be sleeping at home?”
By this time I was grinning from ear to ear.
“Why will you go on leave when I’m still sitting? Who signed your leave form?”
He was standing when I told him but now, he had calmly gone to take a seat.
“The head of litigation signed for me sir”.
“Why should he sign for you? Why did you take it to him? Are you working under him?”
“I’m sorry milord.”
But the truth is, Milord has never signed my leave form since I started working with him and he has never made a fuss about who signed.
Ok I remember now.
The last time I went on leave, I didn’t tell him. I told W. W informed him after I left. Milord was on vacation when I left. Milord only mentioned when I came back that he heard I was on leave.
So, this was all new to me. I am aware that he signs for W and addresses it to the chief registrar to enable W proceed on leave. I thought that was too high for me.
So I begged
“I’m sorry Milord”
“It’s okay. But what will you be doing?”
In my mind, I was like “milord, all these delay tactics are not working. Kukuma tell me you are going to miss me”. I was just there smiling like mumu until he said
“Or you want to write another book? I’m sure that this time around you’d write about your experiences in court”
I nearly screamed. My eyes lit up. Flesh and blood couldn’t have revealed that to him. How did he know?
***Ok now, let’s take a commercial break because Jonathan Eze just sent me a huge text.
As I was saying,
I was so excited. I get excited when people that matter to me talk about the thing I love the most.
“Your first book I read the first chapter but i …..
Honestly I could have hugged Milord at this point but that would have been sacrilegious.
Milord read my book????
Now I have finally earned the “do you know who I am?” status😁. I now have bragging rights.
“Milord, you read it????”
“Yes, but I stopped at the first chapter. I haven’t been able to finish it”
Oh so sweet of you my noble Lord. The fact that you even opened it has made my day. Of course I didn’t say this.
The Chief Registrar of the court had purchased about 150 copies which was distributed by the library to all judges of the court. Imagine my shock few days after I got transferred to my Lord’s Chambers and I saw my book staring back at me in his shelf. It was an eureka moment. Biko let me write another book and go back to the status of a celebrity.
I didn’t know when I blurted out
“Milord, I have a blog where I write about you”
“All my friends read you. Some of them have been telling me they need to see that Milord. One would even call and say greet your Lord for me. Another friend of mine planned to visit our court so that she could see you(it was prisca’s diary I had in mind when I said this). Even my brother was shocked when I told him I now work with you.
He laughed heartily.
And in a way, I felt relieved that he now knows my shenanigans. I have a feeling that he’s going to stumble on my blog one day or maybe his kid/relative/a friend would bring it to his attention.
Then, we talked about a lot of things for the first time. About my dad. About how my dad approached him to write a letter of recommendation for my brother in Lagos when he got a job. Milord told me this. I never knew.
I equally told him how mom used to make jest of dad for calling the Court’s jugdes his Lord.
So I told him few of the things I’d be doing with myself. And that yes, I would be writing my second book like he said.
We talked about the economy. About his generation causing problems for my generation. How they told us we would be leaders of tomorrow and here we are, still not sure of tomorrow.
“Milord, it is the people in your generation that are the problem of Nigeria.”
Dear readers, I beg of you, you see this relationship I have with my Lord? It’s one of a kind. If you ever work with a Nigerian judge or come across one, they are highly revered. Do not, I repeat, do not talk to them the way I talk to milord except that judge is your uncle or your father else,….ewon gbere niyen mehn😁
We gisted till staff bus left me. I had to trek home😁
Milord is a rare breed. One of a kind.
Last week, a very popular SAN in Nigeria was in court, a female and I had gone to ask her which one was her matter so that I could call it out of turn. They are so big on seniority at the bar and no matter which case is number one, I have to call her matter first as the most senior.
However, we had a motion exparte and I called it next. After I eventually called her case, she reported me to milord in open court that I knew she was in court and could have called her case since but Milord apologised on my behalf. You see why he’s the best?
Well, the first thing I did yesterday was to get myself a pack of sans cream soda.
I wanted to buy a bottle and I decided to ask if they have the pack. They did. So I got one. I bought dispenser water too. With some chocolate biscuit and I came back home, locked myself in and slipped under the duvet.
Now, I don’t know what to do with myself. I need to be out of Abuja but I don’t know where to go. I’m not resuming till January. What will I do with my life?
I paid for cow and rice sharing at the office. I got my rice last Friday. I’m waiting for my cow. We are slaughtering two cows😁. Aye mi o. The thought of it is making me to belch already. They’ve been sending me pictures of cows on the WhatsApp group.
Uncle’s wife is expecting me in Ibadan. She has even made arrangements for my mobilization. She has arranged with someone to pick me and bring me to her doorstep. Bhet, does it make sense to leave my cow meat and go to ibadan? Or should I go on a road trip to Ghana? I don’t want to spend the new year in Abuja ojare.