This is for people who are fond of saying “you don see person wey coro catch? Na government dey use am chop money….. I won’t say you are ignorant because I know you are not. However you are just deliberately socially irresponsible […]
Yet again,I am down with malaria feverBut I won’t be going to the hospital again to get tested for pregnancyOr Covid 19😀I had a visitor todaySomeone whose book I’m working onShe’s the only visitor I’ve had consistentlyBecause I’m working on her soon […]
I am down with malaria fever
But I won’t be going to the hospital again to get tested for pregnancy
Or Covid 19😀
I had a visitor today
Someone whose book I’m working on
She’s the only visitor I’ve had consistently
Because I’m working on her soon to be released/published book
And I’m going to help her with a live Twitter chat this week(she’s a public personality)
She’s got malaria too. So she promised to send her brother who drives her to bring me drugs tomorrow.
Whenever she parks her Corolla in front of my gate and I go out to meet her, my male neighbors are stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of their mysterious neighbor.
I wink at them and say good afternoon. They all reply in unison.
Today, she opened her car door and brought out a pack of INDOMIE
And bread. How did she know I’ve been craving toast bread for the past two days?
My account has been on lockdown that I cannot afford to buy either bread or drugs.
The day that Mr N came to my house, it was late evening. Mr N works in my office and he was my dad’s assistant. I had to still enter his car to show him out of my street.
My neighbors saw him too, with his car parked in front of my gate. The new one he just added to his fleet. He greeted them. They responded.
They now know they will see me outside in this Coro period only when there’s a car in front of my gate.😀
It brought back a memory to me. Of my landlady in Lagos who told me after I paid the rent
“I don’t want to be seeing cars in front of my gate. The day I notice that different cars are coming to drop or pick you, I will refund your money😁.”
House wey no even get parking space😁😂
That was pretty insultive. I told mum. Mum told Dad. He was livid.
“The house that you’ve not even moved into and they are giving you conditions like that? It’s not a good house in my opinion. You should look for another one”
“Dad, I don’t have much time. I’ve paid already. I can’t look for another house. I will stay there”
My uncle whose office was at Ibafo had driven me to Arepo-Journalist’s Estate to find a house. We checked two places and it was terrible. The last place we checked, it was a face me I slap you kinda house. I was to pay them to fix it. It was just one room without any flooring. The bathroom and toilet were outside. Bathroom had no door. You had to use your wrapper as a door.
Uncle said he liked the house. It was 70k. He told me to pay(or tell my dad kinda). In my mind, I said tufiakwa. Thank God for stronghead. I have one gift-I can get away with murder😁😁😁.
You can be talking in the rubbish and in the nonsense and in the thing that’s not making sense and I will be looking at you so calmly you’d think you’ve scored a point. You’d even mistake me for an obedient shaild. I do not pick guns to fight my battles. I only fight in my head and with my decisions.
So, I looked like I was going to take the house, but I got back to work the next day, wore my corper uniform, went to the very beautiful Opic estate at Warewa and got myself a very decent newly built self con where I was the first occupant. I paid 100k. Dad only helped with 30k out of it.
I was well aware that my landlady was a very tough woman. But I was very confident that I’d never get into trouble with her. She’d never even see me.
I visited my uncle at Ibafo Police Station and told him I got a better apartment. Mum had called to tell him what the landlady said. Or maybe I told him myself. I can’t remember clearly now.
What uncle did next surprised me
He laughed so loudly that he almost fell off his chair
“You???? A landlady said that to you??? They don’t even know the kind of tenant they’ve just gotten. They will NEVER even set eyes on you. You that they will never see. They won’t even be sure that a human being is living in their house”
You know, you cant give a dog a bad name. One thing I’m grateful to God for, is that my family knows what I can do. There are certain things you will go home and report me for and they will laugh you to scorn. They will beat their chest and say “she can never do this”. If you say I abused you, they can believe you. But that I will live in a house and have issues like men(or even women) coming to see me(which isn’t a bad thing), playing loud music, picking fights? Nah. They will remove their boxers and defend me😀
Have you even seen me in my father’s house? Sometimes when my uncle visits his sister my mother, he would have arrived for an hour gisting with her before she would inform her I’m in my room as usual. My uncle lived with us as a single. He knows my habits. He knows I don’t go out. He knows I love staying indoors. He knows I hide from the world.
We were not the best of friends at that time so he wasn’t trying to be patronizing. My family understands my nature. I don’t mix, I don’t talk and I don’t put my nose into people’s business.
By the way, dude is one step from becoming a commissioner of police. He got his recent promotion last December.
Two weeks after I moved in,
Landlady went to knock my neighbor’s door(we were just two)
“Have you seen Nike? Does she sleep in this house? We’ve not set eyes on her since she moved in.”
My neighbor said
“She sleeps at home ma. I don’t see her too but I hear her movement in the mornings and evenings”
The next day, neighbor knocked my door
“Landlady asked of you. She said you should see her whenever you are around”.
So I went to their big apartment and knocked. Take note that I worked 8-6pm so I used to leave home 7.20am, take a leisurely walk out of the estate gate, go through an underground bridge and cross to my office. I was getting home 6.30pm. I had only one friend in the estate. Oris. Oris Fagbenle. A corper too and a colleague at work. She lived at the estate gate while I lived at the far end. I could stand and gist with her by the road before heading to my apartment.
“Who is it”
They unbolted the door with immediate alacrity.
“Haa Nike, bawo ni. We’ve not been seeing you. I hope you are enjoying our estate. I asked your neighbor to tell you to see me so that I’ll know how you are faring”
“Thank you ma. I’m enjoying the estate. I go to work early and return late that’s why we’ve not been seeing. And I spend my weekends at ibadan. I travel with my dad every Friday and return to work on Mondays”
“Oooh ookay. Your dad is in Lagos too?”
“Yeah, he works at ikoyi”
After some small chit chat, I went back to my small apartment and locked my door. I grinned. Landlady 0, me 100.
They watched me carefully throughout the time I spent there. And when they were convinced I was a good girl who doesn’t give a damn, they had to like me.
Landlady was a caterer and she used to kill big fat cows and cook different meals in the compound. You could just get home and see olopo in the compound.
So they started knocking my door to bring free food
“Nike, bring your plate and come o”
Then I’d take a small plate from my kitchen.
She’d frown. ” Don’t you have a bigger plate?”
“No ma”. I was a very picky eater in those days.
“Is it ofada you want or jollof or white or basmati? Or you want iyan/amala/semo?”
“Jollof is fine ma”
Then she’d put moin moin on top, Cole slaw, big meats etc
One year later, I was ready to leave their house. I went to tell them
“Why are you leaving now? I thought you already started working at Compass. And you told me you’ve gained admission to study for your masters at unilag”
“UK is calling my name ma. I’m going to ibadan to await my destiny ma😂😁😂
“Oh that’s very good”
Dad came early on Saturday morning with kidbrother to pack my things
They were seeing dad for the very first time.
Come and see my report card-I overheard him congratulating dad for raising a good shaild(after having bad thoughts about me initially-olosho things probably). Landlord was having a tete-a-tete with my dad while I was packing load. They exchanged numbers.
Landlord came and prayed for me. They waved at me as we drove out.
All their boys came out to bid me farewell.
After I left, landlady called mum. “How is Nike? She hasn’t been calling us o. Hope she’s fine”😂😂
We became Chum Chum.
Dad got home, saw uncle and began to raise his shoulders. He never discussed what landlord told him with me. I just saw that he was buying me plenty things on the road and was very happy. He’d say “Yetunde, would you like to eat corn? Should I stop and buy you corn?”😂😂
He told uncle like this
“I went to pack Yetunde’s things from Lagos today. Infact, if you hear what the landlord told me about her, I was impressed. He said she surpassed their expectations. No male visitor(😂😂😂for her mind), no wahala, very peaceful geh, easygoing, properly raised, good hometraining….as in, my report card was so impressive that my daddy’s head was swelling.
My dad had a lot of head swelling moments because of me many times. That’s one of the things I’m grateful to God for. That’s why the one moment I fucked up, he stood by me. He helped me to own the shit. He didn’t even reprimand me. We went through the shit together. Mr Banji of life. God punish that girl that was cooking Indomie for him, osiso.
I stayed with a girl in my 500l in school. She had a boyfriend who smoked Igbo and drank spirit. This babe too was dramatic and weird.
Hostel manager came one day and said
“You are the one living with this girl? Double twale for you”
Some hostel mates would draw me back and say in bewilderment
“You are this girl’s roommate? How you dey do am?”
Truly, apart from babe’s weirdness, her boyfriend used to come and knock our door by 11pm or 12am after getting drunk. He’d threaten to break it if we refuse to open.
A friend who had graduated and was visiting was with me when this happened. She nearly lost her mind. It was as if the door would break. I had to call for help. Thank God for phones. I guess I called the manager.
I lived with that babe for one year successfully. I’m weird too. People were scared to live with me because I’d not talk, i’d be moody sometimes etc but that’s where mine ends.
That babe sent me a friend request on Facebook last year. I screamed when I saw her. She said she read me on bellanaija and traced me to Facebook. We are Facebook friends today.
I can live with any kind of person. So far, they know how to keep their shits together. The people I can’t live with, are the ones like my former neighbor, who has two kids for different men and can’t stop getting restless because I’m living a gedifok-out-of-my-business kind of life😂😂😂. That woman must put her life into my business. That’s what I hate.
With all the cars parking in front of my gate now, thank God I’m the sole administrator and garrison commander of this compound. How will I explain how someone who speaks on AIT and Aso Radio comes with her car to my house or how a boss who’s like a brother, a security officer in my office came to visit. How I wan explain am to a landlady or landlord ntori oloun?
One day, I will write about these things. On a larger platform. These discriminations. This- every- female- living- a -good -life -is- an- olosho mentality.
The first time I moved away from home to start living on my own, I really looked forward to it. I had just been posted to Ogun state for NYSC but it was actually Lagos. I was in between Ibafo and Berger. […]
The first time I moved away from home to start living on my own, I really looked forward to it. I had just been posted to Ogun state for
NYSC but it was actually Lagos.
I was in between Ibafo and Berger. Infact, my weekly CDS was at Redemption Camp every Friday and I always went home from there. Mr Banji would be waiting at the gate to pick me.
As I was saying, I needed a place to live. I was house hunting. In the meantime, maternal uncle lodged me at a guesthouse in Ibafo, close to his office. I went to work from there and returned in the evening. I stayed there for two weeks. Bills were on him.
So I got this very fine house at Opic Estate, Warewa, just after Arepo. It was a self con which I got for 100k. Trust me it was a really beautiful, serene and quiet estate. I enjoyed my evening walks back to the estate when returning from work. I had to walk past so many fine houses. My house was the extreme last on the street. My apartment was very new. I had only one neighbor beside me. The main building belonged to the landlord who also lived there.
Of course, I got strange looks from some co-workers who felt like “how can a corper be living so large?”. Most people didn’t even know where I lived within the estate. I was just this mysterious lady who left very early and came back late in the evening. When I eventually left this cocoa company where I served and moved to work at Compass with Jonathan Eze, I never told him I was living alone. Until we met again in Abuja.
I had only my laptop and blackberry phone to keep me company. I had a camp gas in my kitchen. Mum and dad followed me to the house the first day I moved in. That year in that house was the best time of my life.
My apartment in that estate was alone, built with that of my neighbor.
I moved to Abuja and the first house I lived at a certain Federal Housing Area, was built separately too. It was close to the gate and I might not even see my neighbors except they deliberately knock my door or I peep through the window or I hear their voices. I lived like a recluse. Like a social misfit.
On a certain day in March of that year, my mom had sent me a token for my birthday. I had some leftover cash from dad too. So I marched to Apo ShopRite and got an LG flat screen TV, a fridge and DVD all in one day or within a week( I can’t recall vividly now). But I remember going into the Fouani brothers store and pricing a fridge and TV. Then, I got a car to take me home. Then, I offloaded everything and walked in as if nothing happened. I was not even working yet. I was looking forward to resuming at this office where Jonathan Eze happens to be the COO presently. See how funny life can be.
That small apartment was my comfort zone, my safe place, where I could hide from the world. My friend who’s in Canada now, visited me once.
But by then, plans were already in gear for me to move again. I moved to a totally unknown territory. It was just a random selection among options.
I was sorry to leave FHA. There was this small bakery, Food&More(if that’s the right name) where I used to buy bread, snacks, moin moin, ice cream and my favorite chocolate. It was very close to my house, so, I enjoyed the evening walks. I had only one friend on the street. I used to help her sell drinks/recharge card by the roadside. I was jobless then.
There was my kind neighbor whom we drove everywhere together. Whew!!! We drove to the salon, market, even church. Church was at city gate. House on the rock. We sometimes went to eat at biobak kitchen with her husband after church. It was a pretty good life. I was sorry I had to leave that life behind. Abruptly.
So I moved away.
My new area was dusty. It looked unfriendly. The house was a separate building as well. It was standing alone. This was my third ‘alone’ house. I lived there for a year. Then, I moved out and got a more decent apartment within the same area. A very beautiful house.
However, it was my fourth ‘alone’ house. The building is separated from the rest. It is my present house. I have lived like a hermit in this house for four years. I have lived like a mysterious human being, going to work, coming back and locking my door.
My dad has visited me in all the houses I ever lived all the way from Lagos but this my house was the last house he knew. It was here that I got the news of his death at 2am. And the house became haunted. And I only picked my cloth and ran away. The day I finally came back to sleep, I put a torch and a lamp by my pillow and my light was on. But I was still afraid to close my eyes.
I have had a lot of good news and good times here and also wept bitterly many times. Only the wall of my room would bear me witness. I’m sure this wall is going to miss me.
Now I’m moving away from here.
Remember I said I got a beautiful house close to a police area command and a high court.
Well, I lost the house. Because it’s still not ready.
So I spent the entire days of last week hunting for another house again. I got one. But to my chagrin, it’s a lone apartment again. Dem use am swear for me?😁😁💋
I went to see the house out of curiosity. Its within a quarters. The apartment is the only one within the compound. Infact, no neighbor except I come out of the gate. I have a fence and a gate. So I’m the garrison commander of an entire apartment where I have to lock the gate when going out.
No more neighbour.
No more payment for water. Now, it’s water board. Pipeborne water. I will be paying bills to water board like once in three months or thereabout. It is close to Dominos pizza too 🙈🙈 but strangely, I’m still not excited.
However, I find the whole thing creepy. I’m just kind of not excited. For the first time in my life, I’m scared of moving. The place is nice. I even have a space at the back where I can plant vegetables.
If you know my father’s house, it’s built on two plots of land. Or three? And as at then, it was the only house in the entire compound. I lived alone in that compound for two weeks. You can read up that story somewhere on the blog. I wrote the best stories of my life in that house within that period. I was mandated to stay because of the goats and chickens which I had to feed.
I have not told anyone about this new house. They would definitely shout, ask me if I’m an ogbanje. Pray, how can someone live without neighbors? It’s as if I’m starting life all over again. A different route to work, different market, different street. And it’s not funny.
But I will be fine. Eventually. I have to move this month.
****happy new month. Today is the international day of the first born. Who’s going to take this first born out?
This is my birthday month as well. You can ask for my akkant number, thank you.
Lagos. 26th March. About 8pm. Lagos was dark when we flew into town. There were tiny dots of light from below. The sight was beautiful. Its been six years since I left without looking back. The Aero bird flew majestically across the […]
Lagos. 26th March. About 8pm.
Lagos was dark when we flew into town.
There were tiny dots of light from below. The sight was beautiful. Its been six years since I left without looking back.
The Aero bird flew majestically across the horizon even though the firmament was pitch black. There was a slight turbulence…if I even noticed at all.
When I told a friend on phone that I’d be flying Dana to Lagos, she screamed and began to beg me “please, don’t go near Dana o”.
But people have been flying with them still. Infact, Dana had the best time schedules that would favour me.
Well, I ignored every good thought and chose to remember only the gory ones. And I didn’t fly Dana.
Newspapers still sometimes report that airline as the “ill-fated Dana aircraft”. Well, I don’t think the gory events that led to that conclusion would be erased from people’s mind in a long time.
First of all, there was no serious queue at the check in counter of Dana and Aero while Airpeace and Arik had the largest number of people.
However, at the waiting lounge, a friend I met at the airport looked at everyone holding Dana tickets strangely. My airport friend even shuddered when she saw an entire family flying Dana.
We were both on Aero. The flight was supposed to be 15.25 but we ended up leaving Nnamdi Azikwe Airport Abuja by 7pm.
As we sat down patiently, Dana kept calling their passengers. Airpeace too. Dana called for Portharcourt, Lagos and Calabar while we sat down there exasperated.
The strange accent of the announcer didn’t help matters. Her effort at speaking a blend of British-American cum nigerian English gave a funny twist to her pronunciations. I guess the speakers were bad too.
So we shut our mind at all the nonsensities she was yapping until she mentioned the name of each airline. We only paid attention if she mentioned Aero even faintly.
The same aircraft we were waiting for, first flew to Kano to drop some passengers before coming back to lift us in abuja. By the time Aero made the next announcement, it was a call for “dinner” and the time was past 6pm.
Aero managed to give us the same pack that would be given to us in the aircraft. A pitiable snack of cake, biscuit and children juice.
Few minutes before 7pm, Aero called for us. We all marched excitedly out of the waiting lounge.
My airport friend was ahead of me on the queue that led to the aircraft. While I had to stop and confirm my luggage, she didn’t. She had on her a backpack and an extra luggage which she had checked in.
“Just sit anywhere in the cabin except you are flying first class”, the hostess said
My originally allocated seat was a window seat so I still got one.
Well I guess my friend was too hard on Dana. Because even Dana cake tastes better than Aero cake. I ate the Dana pack content about four weeks back.
While Dana gives you a small bottle of water alongside your snack, aero only manages to share a bottle of ragolis among many adults(they do this by giving you a small disposable cup and they pour water into it. That would not even quench the thirst of an infant) and they tickle our childhood senses or should I say they embarrass our adulthood by giving us children’s biscuit and juice.
We got to Muritala Muhammed International Airport at 8pm. While I got my luggage my friend didn’t get hers.
I left her at the airport after 9pm(I was waiting to be picked up by one of the children of my mother). She was still waiting for the next flight that would bring her luggage.
It was little sis that came to pick me. We went to mega chicken, Ikeja -Jollof rice, chicken, icecream. We talked till midnight.
I had an event with J.E at Victoria Island. I had very little time to sleep. Unfortunately, I could not complain of ordinary “plane lag” not to talk of jet lag. I wasn’t qualified since I didn’t fly across the Mediterranean. But a certain ” lag” was worrying me. I was so fagged out.
I got picked from Ojodu. I could barely recognise Berger when I saw it. Berger looked better than I remembered it.
We drove to Federal Palace Hotel.
There was an event to cover for a northern gubernatorial aspirant. We had a continental breakfast there.
Then, we went to Spar.
Then to Cakes and Cream.
By the time I got home in Ikeja where I stayed, it was late evening.
I still had to leave for Ibadan the next morning.
I don’t think Ibadan can ever be the same without the brown dusty and rusty corrugated iron sheets that cover most of the houses.
It was 28th March. It was the blog anniversary day. The blog clocked six. But I was faraway. I could not blog. But I was going on air.
It was 8am when I got to Ibadan tollgate.I saw the “koko” seller. Koko is ogi or pap. Artisans sat on benches while the seller was at the middle. She used a small cup to pour it into bowls for them. She added few spoons of sugar sparingly before handing it out. The banana and akara sellers were busy running after vehicles that stopped for passenger to alight.
I sat down there, on the bench of a bread seller taking everything in. I was enjoying the street while killing time. I had 2hours before my radio show
It was about 9.30 when I walked into the campus of the Lead City University, Ibadan. It was my first time there. Even though my father’s sprawling edifice is a stone’s throw.
The studio session didn’t start until around quarter past 10am, after the 10 0′ clock news.
I was on air and it felt surreal. Some of the questions threw me off balance. Especially the question on feminism. Am I a feminist? Maybe, maybe not. But I am happy that women are now standing up for themselves, rejecting age long traditions that are meant to subjugate them.
But all those feminism struggles and yadayada on social media….I am not a part of it. I don’t ever want to be.
Thursday in Ibadan….29th march
I had woken up to a message from a friend to deliver two copies of my book. The meeting point was Tantalizers. I was too tired but I dragged myself out of bed. I suffered a lot of sleep deprivation in Ibadan.
We met. But the highlight….
My US based friend had called that she would meet me there as well. She was coming from Bodija.
And when she walked in few minutes later, it was an epic moment. We rocked from side to side, had a big bear hug. She brought her usual camaraderie. She caused a stir when buying chicken at the counter. I told her to speak the Nigerian english to them.
We took a selfie. It was a mini reunion.
Our mutual friend drove us nearly home. We were very grateful for the ride. She followed me home to pick few things then I followed her to hers. We took a long bike ride.
The last day she was leaving….her oldest daughter began to cry.
She didn’t want to leave her grandma. Grandma too was stifling the tears. Her eyes were red.
It took me down history lane to a different setting and different people. But my eyes were very dry. My mischievous friend was laughing too. We took some pictures….
She returned to California last night and I got to abuja yesterday as well.
And they all lived happily ever after..
I haven’t done any justice yet. Will be back to recount how I trekked from bere to ojaaba and could have done some street photography that’d make Kayode Balogun go green with envy….if not that I had no camera and phone was dead
December is going down in a matter of days and I stop to think and wonder, how has it been? How did I fare? I must say that am very very nostalgic about the coming year. I have great hopes, new dreams, […]
December is going down in a matter of days and I stop to think and wonder, how has it been? How did I fare? I must say that am very very nostalgic about the coming year. I have great hopes, new dreams, new adventures etc to look forward to. I am particularly excited about taking trips farther down north in pursuit of knowlege in the new year. Then, Yetunde Olasiyan’s Blog clocks two in the new year (march precisely). It is worthy of celebration.
But seriously, how did this year go? It passed away in a jiffy before I realised it. Thank God for some giant steps this year, thank God for a whole new chapter, thank God for strategic relocation. Thank God for some situations which almost took me by surprise but God still prevailed. Thank God for a new lease of life. Thank God am alive today to tell all these stories. The race hasn’t ended yet.. Yet more grounds to be conquered. The disappointments of this year are nothing compared to the glory ahead. Next year is going to be better, I can feel it in my bones.
For a while now, I kind of lost my muse, especially after the trip to Lagos and the ancient city. It sapped my strength, drained me of whatever enthusiasm I had left. There was no time to rest, just trips up and down. So, I came back indisposed. Yeah, I had to rush back because Mr Gimba, the editor called. I have spent this past week gathering strength and trying to recover. Then, trying to look inwards and take stock of every event this year. I hope I get my muse back completely.
So Lagos was fun but I wouldn’t blame people who constantly say they hate Lagos. Yes, majorly because of the traffic. I had a fair share of it then witnessed the accident that occurred at Otedola bridge, on the way to Berger on the 7th at 5.45pm or thereabout. It wasn’t funny at all. I thank God for life.
So, the gist here is that organizations and even churches are winding down activities till the new year. I have never heard of such. The news is alien to me because we worked round the clock in Lagos only taking xmas day off(well, some even worked on xmas). It was business as usual till the new year. Work resumed immediately from the third day. Well, the Federal Capital is a world of its own. Everyone has caught the xmas frenzy already, they are all rushing to travel home. It is going to be so dry. I haven’t caught the frenzy yet, just plain tired.
In case you haven’t really sat down to take stock of everything you have achieved or not achieved this year, please do. Don’t go into the new year without a focus, without a major goal to be accomplished, without new hurdles to be crossed. Prayerfully set new targets and dream new dreams. Count your blessings so that you’ll know how great God has been to you.
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.
So I left lagos(yes, past tense,history)…. Right now, am wishing am in Lagos. Funnily, I whined and complained throughout my time in lagos. But I didn’t know that the Lagos lifestyle had sneaked so deep into my subconscious. Not that I enjoyed […]
So I left lagos(yes, past tense,history)…. Right now, am wishing am in Lagos. Funnily, I whined and complained throughout my time in lagos. But I didn’t know that the Lagos lifestyle had sneaked so deep into my subconscious. Not that I enjoyed the night life,or visited people,or partied, no, that is not what am talking about. Lagos helped me to balance my mood well. The quietness inside of me found balance or solace in the everyday madness that plays itself well on the street of Lagos. I avoided the rowdy areas though, sneaking only into ikeja and its environs once in a while.
I enjoyed d madness on the street as well as the madness in my estate. (Mama landlord and Sunday the houseboy) what about the agberos and the scantily clad ladies on the street? What about the mini jankara market every evening at berger where they sell 20naira bra? What did I not see? Now this is why I am complaining…
The streets of Fct are well tarred but dry. No heavy legs on the road. Everybody maintains calm and panache. Well, this is all good. Now, the most annoying thing happens in my street. Well, Nda the security man has this fierce looking-flesh eating dog that he ties to my gate every night. And whenever am outside after nine o’clock,panic sets in, because Nda would have locked me outside and the dog would be waiting for me at the gate. Now this dog doesn’t understand yoruba or English, but I guess he can understand Hausa. So,he barks in hausa language while Nda also speaks only Hausa fluently. I tried all methods to speak with Nda(even sign language) but I failed woefully. Now, we communicate only by gesture.
So Nda locked me out…. And I could not enter the building. Worse still,I could not talk to him (well, that is a story for another day)
But, who does that in lagos? When night life begins at ??pm When workers who went to work since morning and complained of being tired are seen digging it in clubs at ungodly hours. I am just tired of Nda and his creature(dog)…
There are no madness on this street, no conductor fighting a passenger(cabs all through), so it adds a ripple effect to my already poignant mood. I can’t just seem to find the balance, dull within and outside. I can’t wait to sneak out of here into lasgidi. I already miss all my friends- Fgchubby, fikky, tynukehbadmus in ib, dupe. Well, I hope Nda changes or I learn to speak Hausa….
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.