SWINGS AND ROUNDABOUTS: ONE GIRL'S TALE

Kayode's Opening: This fantastic piece about a girl and the uncertainties of life was written by Kikelomo Adebiyi, a friend from the Twitterati. She's @kikee03 on Twitter and blogs on Kikelomoadebiyi's Blog, in case you wanna miss my "middlemanship" completely. You can go find her, or you could simply use those links I provided. You are of course welcome. Oh, and enjoy what she has to offer.

Whither?

I’ll be turning 23 in the next few days and I have no idea as to where my life is headed. I’ve always prided myself in being able to make the right decisions in whatever I do, maybe because I’m too proud to ask for advice or I’m just trying to prove to myself that I’m strong and mature enough to take bold steps, but at the end of the day, those so called ‘right decisions’ usually turn awry and I end up having to seek for assistance. I’ve

EVIL FRIENDS FROM THE DARKNESS OF THE OCCULT COVEN

It sha has coven inside, abi?

KAYODE'S OPENING: This was "write" by Oduwusi Pelumi, @youngprincejosh on Twitter. Ladies, he's not normally a writer but as you people will say, "Gosh, he's fine!" Whether I think he needs to bulk up isn't the issue here, because frankly, I wasn't supposed to write the preceding, but give this a quick read. It's one man's thoughts on witchcraft... or NOT!

Before you read this, I would like to apologize for this article or post or whatever its called. I'm normally not a writer. I guess like the prophets of the old days, the spirit of writing falls on me once in a long while. Doesn't mean the writing is good, the spirit just falls.

THE ITALIAN CONNECTION

Kayode's Opening: He's almost certainly crazy and probably belongs in an "institution" somewhere but boy does he turn out great stuff. He's Rolands Ndu Akpe (some name, I know) and @Bloody_Voyeur on Twitter. He writes what he calls poetry on Bloodywrits. As you may have noticed, he's a bloodthirsty, thieving son of a golden pen. You'll love this story. Enjoy.

I’ve been known to lie a bit; a lot of times, that is. I’ve been known to steal not much; I never get caught. I’m not mythomanic or klepto or anything, and so would therefore advice you, dear reader, to fucking put away that bowl of salt you’re about to take a pinch of! I’m sorry I swore, but I swear by the haematophilic gods of my fathers that whatever words shall come after this sentence shall be the truth and nothing but not the truth.

A DAY IN THE LIFE

It was a mighty struggle. Permutations and combinations had taken place and an idea was beginning to form. I could still make it, just a few minutes wouldn’t matter, would it? But then, with a gigantic effort, I wake up. It had not been a dream, I was merely struggling to wake up. The wardrobe beckons. What? I ironed this stupid piece of coloured fabric yesterday, yes? Thankfully, there was still light. The PHCN guy at the controls must be lenient or just a lumbering, slumbering oaf. Well, not being grateful for life’s little miracles wasn’t how I got this far. I iron the shirt. The pants still look pretty good, no show there. It must be disappointed but I’m past caring.

I must go...oh God!, I sigh. There’s still the car to take care of. It might not be much of a chore if it wasn’t a bumbling jeep – and given gravity’s love for me, I had to use a stool to reach the middle of the top of the thing. I reminisce about the days I would sleep till 10am, not a care in the world to bother about. Well, eating and then sleep-reading and...are not exactly cares now, ba? Now I’m saying ba? This chique must be messing with my head. My thoughts go to D.O Fagunwa’s famous words: egbe ni fun omokunrin to ba ji, to gboro obinrin saya. I push the girly thoughts away as quickly as they had come. They keep wanting to stage a comeback and alas, they succeed. I had been thinking about girls first thing in mornings and see how I turned out. Not bad. Let stuffy quotes stay where they belong – stuffy, long-empty graves.

I take my bath.  I admire my hair in the standing mirror. I try to think of sitting mirrors. Ah, the English language. I always admire my additive-free hair like this. God loves me a lot. I don’t have to spend the annual budget of Nauru to make it look good. I have a feeling all these exotic chemicals will make their users go bald at long last. Not much time today though, much less trivial things await. I don’t want to use a body cream but I get a lot of stick these days for becoming the human version of toast bread. Neglecting my skin is pushing me towards looking like a Ghanian...well, not quite. I’m still light years lighter than those coaly lot. I rush downstairs. I swipe some of my brother’s Jergens body cream. Who calls a cream Jergens? Apparently, they sell and I wonder how. It sounds like a name my grandmother would give a product and she probably hasn’t even stepped past the gates of a school, EVER! I seem to recall my father told me about her harassing a teacher of his then. That must count as one.

I dress up. Now, to see how I look in a mirror. A little tuck here, a little stretch there and uhn, almost looking good. I’ve never understood man’s propensity for discomfort. Why all the hubbub, when I can simply throw on a T-shirt and jeans? Rome and Romans, I guess I must adapt and whip my carefree nature into shape. Speaking of which, I can’t possibly get to Ekiti and behave like a Lagosian. Whoever came up with that saying-cum-adage-cum-proverb must have been on premium Afghan heroine, if it was around then. That has to be the only substance I can readily think of that can induce the numbness of mind required for such adages. Perhaps he was just trying to narrow his options but couldn’t he have used somewhere else...like Lagos? “When thou art at Lagos, do as they do in Lagos.” I decide I can’t look better and I leave the mirror. What a boring life it lives, staring at nothingness for much of its lifespan, except if it belongs to Lagos girls, or girls in most parts of Nigeria for that matter.

...To be continued

EGG PIE A LA FACE

So, you ever heard the word still-born before? That's exactly what my, our dream of going to Uganda for some ten days became. I guess Idi Amin never forgave me for that slur in my RETROSPECT. I only recently learnt his spirit was wandering all over the surface of the earth. If I had known... The Rwandans didn't ttake lightly to me reminding them of their treacherous past either. So, there.

So, when we lost to UNIJOS after beating them in our first match, it was egg galore, and it was nowhere but on our faces. Your brains might be fast and vast, but you need the hands too cos of some miserable bugger of a device called a BUZZER. How apt - bugger, buzzer.

Disappointment apart, it was a very wonderful expereience and the organisers of the Zain Africa Challenge did not spare any expense in taking care of their own. From transportation via Arik Air, to lodging at the five-star Transcorp-Hilton, it was at least worth the while. It could have been better, but you always have to pay the price for experience.

For that equivalent of 2 days and 2 nights, most of it spent at temperatures resembling the Big Freeze currently sweeping through Europe, it was really cool. The view from the rooms, the plushness and lest I forget, the FOOOOD! An 'onijekuje' would have a field day as dining was a buffet. The only minus would have been that the onikejekuje might have gorged down something unpleasent in the name of experimentation. Not me though,  I Kept It Simple and Stupid, and stuck to familiar sounding dishes or their equivalents. I don't eat much and I didn't suddenly develop a voracious appetite overnight (or morning if you like)

Not some of my team mates though, or indeed our coach. Three wraps of premium 'iyan'? Haba! Kazeem finished his though and visited the toilet a thousand times over the next 12 hours. The coach? Well he bit more than he could chew, literally! Same as Kehinde, same as the liaison. Lesson? For me, two wraps were enough and I couldn't even finish it. Like I said, eating has never been my suite. Lesson? KISS.

There was the new friends part too. Made some and... which reminds me, I need to call someone up like now, excuse me for a sec.

Okay, I'm back and that went well, except that the recipient of the call is in ABU, that's Zaria and I'm in Ife, a million miles away.Then there was the wicked me part. I have a little more experience than usual with hotel and guest house rooms, at least more than my roommate. So, it was bathing time and there's a little contraption you must figure out before you can use the shower. Well, I was gonna test my roomie (my idea of fun), and so when I was done, I reset the pulled knob. Minutes later, I was hearing gurgling sounds like a man swimming and I went like, 'Oh boy, dude can't play'.

More importantly, I guess everybody left with important lessons and insights as to life and the future. I picked up a few things I am definitely gonna put into play, and a few contacts too. No Uganda for now but I see bigger and better in the not too distant future.