CORPORAL ABDULAHI --by Nickz

Abdulahi had seen the good, the bad and the ugly. He had seen a husband beheaded and the wife slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb. He had even seen a vigilante youth killed in cold blood, his guts and intestines exposed. He was almost a victim himself in the last Cathedral bomb blast in Kayaya, Kaduna State. Their patrol truck had capsized as a result of the severe rock and the deafening sound of the blast. It had been too late to stop the suicide bombers. Blood-covered bodies—including children and aged, had littered the collapsed and smoking building. Surviving and injured mothers cried uncontrollably when they found their dead children. The sights could have moved even the hardest of soldiers but he wasn’t trained to weep in such times but to serve with courage and bravery. He and his teammates could do nothing to avert the already done harm. All there was left to do was rescuing survivors. The war against the insurgents was still fresh and vehement.

Last month had been worst; it was his closest confrontation with death. They were deployed in the dense jungle of Algabani, Borno State.  Intel obtained carried that some insurgents had recently inhabited a part of the jungle to plot and launch catastrophe in the surrounding town. Their mission had been simple or better put, clearly defined: destroy everything that has breath in the zone. They had been equipped with a couple of RPGs and assault rifles, some grenades and communication gadgets. The operation was a 48-hour operation before extraction. His right hand man, Samir always had a good air of humor in the face of extreme danger which was always good for him and the entire team. The eight-man team knew they were short armed, considering the nature of the operation. The same Intel had gathered that these insurgents carried sophisticated weapons and there was a possibility of them having a tank. “Na rantse! These our ogas de craze. See the kind rifle wey dem give us. My mama for village de use dis one do hunting. Chai! These people no like us! Mugayen maza!” Samir had commented the night before the launching of the mission.

The insurgents were taken by surprise in their camp. They had numbered over fifty, all armed up for mischief. The soldiers had spread out, some mounted strategic routes of escape. They had brought down the enemies’ vehicles and temporary resident structures with the RPGs, maiming a few in the act. There was strong gun fight but the insurgents were die hards. The table was turning as most of the soldiers were running out of ammo. The insurgents were overpowering and killing them one by one. Abdulahi had just fixed his last spare magazine which contained a little above a dozen rounds. Every shot had to count. He aimed and fired, he killed many, he took cover, he changed position, he fired some more before the trigger gave off a mere click sound. He was completely out. A black and armed insurgent was running up to him, rifle in hand ready to fire. Allah saved him as Samir came to his rescue, taking down the villain from behind. He was about to say “Nagode dan’uwana” for the brave act when one of the maimed and blood covered insurgent lying on the ground picked up a rifle and shot Samir on the neck. Samir, before falling to the dust, with his last breath, reacted by turning round and firing back at his attacker. Both men died while the few remaining insurgents fled. Only two soldiers; himself and Mohammed, the team leader had survived that mission and made it to the extraction point. The rest went home in body bags, including his best friend who saved his life.

Today, Abdulahi was off duty. He would resume in four days time. Sitting in his sofa, just wanted to have his smoke and whiskey in peace. Nothing else mattered. The horrific and bloody scenes played in his head in quick flashes, driving him insane. He drained another shot and took a long hard drag on his last stick of St. Morris. He emptied the bottle and drained the last shot. “For Samir, dan’uwana. Allah ya jikan sa.” Abdulahi was a peaceful man, a soldier of dignity and reputation. He was the one his team mates fell back on when in need of technical and moral counseling. He was good and devoted to the force. He was the exceptional one. But how would he counsel himself over the loss of his right hand man and his team? He was dying in depression and regret. If only the scenes would stop flashing in his head. Even as a soldier, with all the physical and psychological training he received, he was not prepared for such experience. 

The door opened and Binta walked in, expecting to surprise her fiancé. He had told her on phone earlier that he would be home for few days. Binta was a serving corps member in Kaduna. Abdulahi had been their platoon commander and couldn’t help noticing the beautiful Linguist back in the orientation camp. The feeling was mutual and they had a couple of secret dates back then. After camp days, he had asked her for a serious relationship which birthed an engagement. He was a man of his words and knew he loved her, even Binta had marveled to meet such a different breed of the country’s bulldog. She had no doubt about him and therefore kept herself for him. What she saw in the room immediately dampened her cheerful mood. Her man was not an alcoholic or a chronic smoker. The two empty bottles of aromatic drinks and packs of cigarettes she saw on the coffee table was enough to raise her amazement but not as much as the helpless and messy state she had found her man. She knew something wasn’t right and she had to give him some help. He was awake now, seeing and recognizing who was with him but was in a helpless state. She helped him to the bathroom where he washed up and afterwards drank some fresh herbal drink she prepared to clear his hangover and throbbing head. 

Over the cup of drink, with a cast down countenance and soberness, he apologized to Binta for being in such a state. He told her all that had happened in the mission. She felt his pains and wept silently; he hugged her close to himself for comfort. He was a man and a trained one so he fought with his own tears. They consoled each other with the intimacy of lovers. His lips found hers and they kissed passionately. He was a hungry man and she was a starving lady, the intensity ascended and clothes were thrown off. Picking her up to the room, he carefully dropped her on the bed, searching, wanting and tasting all she could offer. He was driving her crazy, every nerve in her body, every muscle in her body, all strained to the edge as he filled her up. He was gentle and sweet, providing just the way she yearned, she could feel herself nearing the cliff’s top. The sudden vibration of Abdulahi’s phone on the bed drawer completely shook them off their passionate ascension. He ignored the call but the caller was persistent. He picked it up on the third ring. 

His annoyance transformed into a surprise as he noticed the caller was Major Yusufu, the man who dished out operations from the GOC.  He opened the line and listened to his superior, Binta studying his face curiously. When he dropped the call, he almost smashed the phone out of annoyance. He had just received new orders to report for another mission. 

In the barracks, Abdulahi walked into Major Yusufu’s office where he met a new team he was to work with for the mission. They were briefed and equipped with adequate information. The location was circled out on the wide map on the Major’s desk. It was Bammar, a small village in Borno state where the insurgents had started infiltrating. The mission was to last two weeks. They were to work with the already deployed soldiers in the area to put down the tension in the region. All they could say was, “Yes Sir!” before and after the Major dismissed them.

The weather in Bammar village was extreme at nights; the camp fire they usually setup was their most reliable source of warmth. When the fire died out late in the night, they resorted to smoking and liquor. Bammar village was gradually becoming isolated as the inhabitants were relocating on daily bases. The team had stayed for over a week but there was not even a single sound of gunshot or insurgence until today noon when they received a call from Kaduna base, informing them of a potential location where the insurgents camped. They were commanded to invade and destroy the enemy camp the following day at 1500 hours. All the necessary briefing was given. 

It would have been pitch-dark, if not for the burning dry woods that lit up the dark night. His team of four men was fraternizing well with the other soldiers deployed to that location.  After the round of cards they were presently playing, they had made up their minds to retire to bed against the task the following day but when Nassir, one of his teammates increased the betting on the winner, he automatically pulled everyone in for another round. 

Abdulahi had noticed how often Bello, one of the deployed corporals left the group to make his phone calls. He wondered what was special that he had to keep such a wide gap for a phone conversation. Unlike Bello, tonight, he was the only one not playing cards. Abdulahi ignored the young man and minded his game. It was already past one in the morning.  They all needed to rest, tomorrow was going to be war. 

He saw Binta in his dream, dressed like a bride and walking towards him. He could see her smile behind the veil. There was jubilation and merriment but suddenly things changed. He heard shots fired in the air, people ran for safety, and chaos emanated. That was when he jerked up from his flat mattress in his tent to the sound of real gunshots. Their camp was under attack! Nassir also slept in the same tent with him. He was also awake in no time. Instinctively, they grabbed their rifles and fled the tent, gathering themselves up at the command of their team leader, Mohammed. Everyone was accounted for except Bello. “Tonight, we stand and fight these tsinannu! Prepared or not, we have to face them! Soldiers, take positions! Kase su!”

The insurgents were now visible, all masked and armed, throwing grenades into the tents and firing randomly. The soldiers gunned some of them down from their positions but the insurgents had come out in full, outnumbering the soldiers in multiples. The predator became the prey and the war was lost. Abdulahi watched his team go down again, few others fleeing into the bush for their lives. The team leader, Mohammed was shot on the forehead, the insurgents still trooping in for more havoc. It was him and Nassir now, firing their rifles with anger, bitterness and venom. They did not gather enough grenades from their vehicles and they were fast running out of ammo. Abdulahi rose and fired the last of his bullets at several encroaching insurgents until he was out. That was when the first bullet hit him, then the second and third. He had known a time like this would come. He fell down smiling, Nassir kneeling on his side, trying to press down and stop the blood oozing from his chest and stomach. Abdulahi knew it was futile. He could barely speak, the pain was excruciating. He managed to pull a tag off his neck and deposit it into Nassir’s fist. “Tell—tell Binta my kyekyawar mata—tell her I love her. Allah be with her. Go! Go, dan’uwana! We—we will meet again. Allahuakbar.” few minutes after Nassir took off, he gave up the ghost. 

**The End**

TALES FROM THE SLUM 2 --by Slick

Episode 2

Dupe was clad in a stunning red gown that hugged her petite body, the back of her dress bare from her neckline down to the mid-point of her spine. She was wearing black heels and held a black purse in her left hand while attending to a phone call. She had been standing for sometime in front of a pharmacy on Iboko Street awaiting the arrival of Mustapha. 

“Mustapha, I don’t know why you have chosen to punish me like this o.”

“Baby, I am so sorry. I have been stuck in this filling station trying to get petrol. I’ll be with you in 20 minutes, I promise to make it up to you.”

“You better hurry up or I’ll just go back home to sleep.”

“Baby, I am driving and it is not advised to answer the phone while driving. See you in a bit.”

“Alright then.”

Mustapha was a businessman who had established enterprises in different sectors of the economy but had been particularly successful in the Agricultural sector. He owned a fish feed production company which brought him a lot of revenue. He was the dream man every woman wanted in her life but he was only in love when it came to getting in between a woman’s thighs. He was a tall, dark skinned and handsome man. He grew a beard and side burns that compensated for the skin cut he always rocked. He used every resource available to get any woman his heart desired. Dupe was his latest adventure and the game had just begun.

“Baby, I am so sorry”. Mustapha said as he drove up to where Dupe was standing.

“It is alright, I can understand what you had to go through.” Dupe replied cheerfully.

“Hop in, and let us go have some quality time at this fancy restaurant I saw on the Island.”

“Okay.” Dupe replied as she stepped into Mustapha’s 2013 Range Rover SUV.

They drove all the way to Mama Kay’s restaurant, a new one that had just been officially opened few days ago. Excitement practically ran through Dupe’s veins as she walked through the doors of the restaurant with Mustapha walking behind her. She counted herself lucky to be in the company of such a generous gentleman and was prepared to do anything to keep him to herself at all costs. They were seated at a table that gave them a good view of the streets and traffic while a waiter took their order. It was going to be a lovely night after all. 

Mustapha had not met Dupe by accident but through the services of Marcus the notorious neighbourhood pimp. Marcus had the proper skill set for providing rich men with information of young unsuspecting ladies in return for a fee from both the men and the ladies that were involved. He was a practical human dating site. He always saw the business potential in women and thus did not have the time for relationships with the opposite sex that didn’t involve money.

The couple left the restaurant after having a nice meal washed down with bottles of red wine and headed back to their neighbourhood. Mustapha smiled to himself as Dupe occupied the passenger seat of his SUV. It was only a matter of time before he struck gold. He had Marcus to thank for this beautiful woman sitting in his car. As they drove back, they listened to music blaring from the Dolby surround speakers while engaging in small talks.

“Musty, do you know that you are a womanizer?”

“Baby!!!”  He replied as he chuckled.

“Yes, up till now I wonder how you got my contact details. I mean I wonder if there’s anything you don’t know about me.”

“I am just a curious person baby.”

“Curious indeed.” She replied.

Mustapha brought the conversation to an end as he parked the car just in front of the gate leading to Dupe’s apartment. They shared a passionate kiss with Mustapha’s hand fumbling with her waist and boobs. She returned his hand to the steering and bade him goodnight. He drove off while speaking to the boner he had just grown in less than three minutes. Dupe was indeed magic just as Marcus had said.

**

That night Anita tossed her body from side to side as she thought of Chinedu’s predicament as well as her biological clock that was ticking crazy. She had held her breasts in her hands to see if they were still firm and upright. Certainly, nothing was wrong with her. She could attract any man of her choice. Not that she was Miss World but she was pretty enough to make a brother’s neck turn. But how and why did she end up with Chinedu? Why did she chase away all of the rich guys that were interested in her. She recalled Dupe’s mockery about her dating poor boys. Even her mother had once said that she was possessed by an evil that did not want her success in life. Her mind was suddenly flooded with the waves of depression and she decided to sleep off. Just as she started batting her eyes to sleep, a text message entered her phone. An electronic transfer of N100,000 had just been credited to her account. She scrolled down to see who the sender was but it was a name that she never had expected to see. As if that was not enough, another SMS came in saying:

“Accept this token from me as a way of saying that I am sorry for the way I left. But I’m back now to make things right. Sleep tight, my love.”

It was a text message from ex-boyfriend James. At least to her, he was in her past. They had dated for a while only for him to disappear without any word. She had waited for him to return, hoping it was a prank. But he didn’t come back until now. Trouble had just knocked at her door and sleeping became more difficult than before. What would she tell Chinedu? Did she have to tell him? What would be his reactions?

Just had she begun to drift into a world of thoughts again, she heard her mother open the door; with her head half-way into the room, she delivered a message that took Anita by surprise.

“Anita, James was here today. He had just come back from South Africa and decided to stop by to see you. I told him that you were still single and had been waiting for his return all these years and that you swore that you were not going to marry anyone except him, Good night.”

Just as the door closed, Anita’s ears were cringing in shock. Her mother had just positioned her between two men. She practically crossed the line here, she thought to herself. Helpless, she covered her face with the Burberry duvet on her bed and slept off.

**********

(...Episode 3 coming soon)

WHEN I MAKE MONEY...--by Rose

Many times I wonder how the world became the way it is; everything including interhuman relationship is being "monetized". The society adores money; we worship it, we pray for it and place our faith in it. Many are driven to make wealth for a variety of reasons, often irrational. 

"When I make money I will drive the best cars, will date the most beautiful women," I often hear people say.

Making money or paper chasing ain't a bad thing. Everybody likes money but the purpose behind our money­making plans should not be based on booze,women, revenge or showing­off.

Look around you, there are orphans, less­privileged people, handicaps, hawkers et cetera. While you are working hard, think of how you can use your money and impact positively on the society: this alone validates true success.

Also remember that success is not a measure of how much money you have but its a measure of how many lives you  have changed for the better.

Have a positive money-making plan today!

"POINT OF CORRECTION!" --by Rose

"Madam dis your food no sweet!" An angry student screamed across the restaurant. Personally, I would have been very embarrassed if someone told me that.
The manner or approach employed while correcting a person could make the person resent you, become rude to you or turn a new leaf.

Correcting a person especially, an adult in a strong manner in public or in the presence of people is not wise. I have observed especially during conversations when one makes a blunder, we are fast to chip in what we feel is right. "Oh it's not fefer, it's fever." A friend arrives cheerfully but you observe a part of her dress is torn! Oh, and her make up; it's not cool, yet you choose to correct the person in the presence of others. This is very wrong. Why don't you whisper, "Excuse me dear, let's sit over there. I wonna
tell you something."

Correcting someone loudly often wounds their
self esteem, shattering their confidence and pride in themselves.
Avoid embarrassing people in the name of correction.

WHERE LILIES LIE --by Rose

Let me take you

to a place, love

where happiness is forever

where Laughter echoes

across the hills

where roses bloom

endearing dancing butterflies

I will love you always

till the last star fades

till darkness encircles us

I will adorn you with kisses

will place my mark on you

you are mine alone

Let me take you to a place

of carnal bliss

where lovers meet

dancing to an ancient rhythm

of flames of passion

Let us grind our hips together

kiss your Venus

breathe fire

as our eyes glimmer in the dark

after the dance of victory

I have taken you to the place

Beyond the mountains

hidden in the white clouds

grove of pleasure

a haven

where lilies lie

HOW DO YOU GREET? --by Nickz

The Igbos say Otutuoma. The Hausas say Inakwana. The Yorubas say Ekaro. The Ibibios say Amesiere. Pardon me if I haven't included your language or tribe. We just wonna talk about greetings and salutations. 

As we all know, greeting is a very powerful communication medium. A new neighbour moves in next to you. Every morning he steps out and sees you, he says with a smile, "Good morning my friend!" Automatically, you'll begin to like the new face and probably wonna interact with him. 

I've once been greeted by a young girl, most likely in her late teens. She just mumbled the "Good morning" in such a low voice and with such an unhappy face I thought she was abusing me. Many times, we walk with straight faces, rushing to meet up our daily affairs, failing to notice that elderly person we ignored or the greeting a younger person said to us. Other times, we may remember to greet but we don't even look the person in the face, we just toss the saltless greeting into the air. The recipient may end up not knowing we had even said something thereby rightly assuming we're disrespectful. This kind of greeting is often noticed in young people when they try to act like "This greeting thing is not compulsory, afterall he doesn't feed me. Let me just greet before they say I didn't." In such cases, I'd say it's better they had walked silently past than to have parted their lips. 

There are other times that ego clash sets in where one person walks past another, both expecting the other to greet first. They end up not greeting each other. In some other cases, we can't greet people because that thing in us tells us, "I don't know him so what's my business with him?" Surprisingly, this so called unknown person is someone we come across everyday in our streets or workplaces. 

You don't have to become mental and keep saying "Good morning" or "Happy weekend" to every Tom, Dick and Harry you meet on your way. You just have to improve on your level of interacting with the people around you through greetings. You go to the bank, say a pleasant greeting to the teller. You may be amazed how she'll handle your needs with extra attention. It may not take much from us, just a drop of energy. Touch people positively with your greetings! One lav!

SLAUGHTER ROOM MANIACS 4 --by Nickz

Chapter Four: Princess Ella Shows Up

More slowly than expected, Sunday finally arrived. It was the day I and Princess Ella fixed our date. I had made the call and she had accepted we meet today by 5pm (for a start, I won Ade and Element’s bet. They both paid up without complaints. Pascal’s bet was left to be won). I have to say this; I was a bit disappointed when I first heard Princess Ella’s voice. I was expecting a mellifluous and soft voice that would match her stunning looks. Rather, what I heard was not exactly that. It wasn’t even close. Well, no one was perfect, I guessed and shrugged it off.

 Everything was in place. According to the lectures and grooming I received from Element, I was to give the Princess a good impression of a well-to-do gentle man (my roommates were all firmly behind my back this time). I needed a car to boost my reps so we had made arrangements to borrow Princewill’s (a colleague) Avallon for three hours, in case I had to drop her at her place. I dressed up neatly in my best shirt and trousers and got the approval of the room. No suits, no ties, they’d make me look conservative and too tightened up, thanks Element. I used my Malizia moderately and put on my Rolex (imitation brand of course). My low cut was as neat as Usher Ray’s. I had also shaved off every spiky growth on my chin. Everything facial mattered much. I brushed my mouth with extra quantity of Dabur Herbal. I could have passed for a bill board toothpaste model plus a smart-looking business man. I even gave my looks a thumb-up though I was as nervous as a teenager. 

I and Princess were to meet in a lovely eatery-Ariel. I had chosen the venue and she said it was ok, though she hadn’t been there before.  I had been there once when I had to get cake for the room on Pascal’s birthday some weeks back. It had left a memorable and remarkable impression. By 4:40pm, we (I, Element and Ade) pulled in with the borrowed Avallon into the serenity of Ariel.  My roommates came as observers and promised not to interfere in any possible way (including gestures) with my date. They were just going to seat at some distance away. They needed to be sure I earned Pascal’s bet. 

On my part, I had to make Princess Ella feel happy and comfortable on our first date. I was convinced a place like this would match her class and taste, even though she claimed to be simple and down-to-earth. I needed to prove a point to my roommates too. Naturally, I preferred the first floor to the ground floor. I loved everything about this fast food. It seemed to have been designed and customised for dates. The air conditioning was appreciably moderate. The interior decor was pro stuff. Some sections were general while some were for people that required more privacy. I preferred the later section. The lighting was soft in this section and they didn’t have all those iron chairs with soft seats on them or fanciful wooden chairs except in the general sections. They had soft and comfortable sofas there. Very cool R&B songs were diffusing from hidden speakers. The 32 inches plasma TV screens hanging on the white and lemon walls were synchronously displaying TRACE urban hits. To top it all, the side wall facing the streets was a massive floor-to-ceiling see-through glass to give an amazing view of traffic and buildings. One could see anyone walking in or out from where I positioned. This was what I wanted. I had to see when the Princess walked in. The last thing I wanted was to let her be stranded. 

I got a can of apple drink to while off the waiting time and also ease my nervousness. It was already 5:15pm and no sign. Maybe Pascal would win his bet back, a part of my mind thought but it was too early to start thinking negative. Should I call her again or just wait for some few more minutes? Maybe she forgot about the date or maybe one of her rich guys took her out, or maybe she just changed her mind. Alright, relax man; I told myself. She’s going to show up, probably traffic or something. I started practicing in my head on the first words I would say. It had to be complementing. Something like, ‘Good evening Miss Ella, may I say your profile picture is an understatement of your true beauty. I’m pleased to meet you.’ I think that was good for a start. I reminded myself it was all for the big bet. No strings attached. Just prove the point to my roommates and get the remaining 3 grand. Two minutes later, I received a text message from Princess Ella: ‘be there soon...apologies.’ That was a bit relieving.

By 5:26pm, there was still no sign. I was so nervous I rose up to the convenience to splash some water on my face. Why can’t things just go as planned with ladies? As I walked in, I met a fat man walking out of the men’s lavatory. “hold on friend, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, the flush handle is bad so everything’s still intact”, he said.  I told him it was ok that I needed just the wash basin outside. After a quick splash, I dried my face and was about pulling out my phone to dial Princess Ella when the phone rang. Caller ID: Princess Ella. My heart raced. She was already here, I guessed. I wanted to burst out of the convenience but I held myself to hear her first. I picked the call. 

Ella: Hello, Pete, so sorry I’m late. I’m outside here at the shawarma spot, where’re you please?

I didn’t know what to say for a moment. My pulse was furiously fast. I was finally meeting the beauty I only spoke with online. Would I be who she expected to meet? Ok, Peter, breathe it all out and reply her.

Peter (Narrator): “Wow, finally you’re here. O-ok um lemmi um come get you then. Ahh gimme a minute please.”

Stuttering wasn’t my thing but neither was real life dating.

Princess Ella: “Alright then, I’m waiting.”

I don’t really know what made me ask the next question even though I knew how she looked from her pictures. Maybe I was very nervous.

Peter (Narrator): “What are you wearing so I can easily spot you? You know, err dressing can change a lady’s appearance.” 

She gave a short amused giggle, and then she described her wear.

Finally, I was meeting the online Princess physically. For the first time in my life I was having a real life date. These thoughts made blood pump up my face and go down again in a quick descend, leaving me cold and hot at the same time. I walked out of the restroom, summoning courage like a man and approached the floor-to-ceiling window facing the streets so I can see her. I could see the shawarma section below. It was separated from the main building though still owned and operated by Ariel. The line there was not long, four or five people waiting for their turn. I could see three more people not in the line but just waiting around. A guy dressed like a member of a rock band, chewing gum nervously and two young, beautiful ladies actively in conversation. One of the young ladies was strikingly prettier than the other-the taller one. I could only see the back view from my position—suspense. I was expecting one not two. And something else didn’t seem accurate here. She told me she was dressed in pink top with blue pencil pants but neither of them wore those. Maybe she was trying to play games by adding last minute twists. That wouldn’t be funny because I was confused and at the same time ran out of thoughts. I didn’t want to get down there and look like an idiot. I had to be sure. Could she have walked in already? Was she there at all? Did she lie to me that she’s waiting at the shawarma spot? I looked behind me. I could see Element and Ade and Pascal sitting at their table and watching me with intense curiosity and interest. I thought I could use their help at this point so I made a gesture for them to come over to the window. I told them my confusion. I thought they’d ridicule me but they didn’t, maybe not yet. Element suggested I called her again. Even that never occurred to me. It was when I dialled her number that a lot of things started unfolding. 

When the dialling went through, I was expecting to see one of the girls bring out a phone to answer my call. Instead, what I saw marvelled me. The rock band-like guy who was then chewing even more nervously pulled out his phone from the side pocket of his pencil jeans. A blue pair of pencil jeans! He was wearing a pink top too. Those were the exact description of dress Prinicess Ella gave me. Taking a closer look at him even at the given distance, we could see him better. He tied a red scarf and his hair was long and weaved backwards like a secondary school girl. He wore earrings, not the big circular ones but the dot type, bright silver in colour. His silver necklace reflected dully around his neck. His pair of pencils was so tight he looked like a girl.  He picked the call and for a split minute, I was lost for words. We were observing if he was the one actually at the other end.  Surprisingly, it was him!         

                                         

Rock band-like guy: “Pete what’s keeping you up till now, you said you were coming down. Is this payback for being late?”

The voice—that was the same voice I spoke to the very first day I dialled Princess Ella. It was the same voice that replied each time I had called Princess Ella. This better not be what I’m thinking. I hung up instinctively. I told my roomies that the guy below seemed to be the Princess Ella. The rock band-like dude was in fact Princess Ella. All this while, it had been a guy. No wonder the voice sounded so unfeminine from day one. All this while, I’ve been chatting with a gay. No wonder he had been bringing up so many discussions on homo. I had always agreed with his views on it because I believed people were free to make their choices and that gave him a sort of clue that I was into it. The bastard thought I was gay! I was upset and disappointed. All I could say was ‘shit!’ repeatedly. Element looked like he wanted to punch the guy below through the glass. He despised gays. 

Element: “This is the definition of massive bullshit!” he yelled uncontrollably, almost smashing his phone on the floor. 

People turned from their tables but we didn’t care. 

Ade and Pascal were dumb-founded.

Peter (Narrator): “What do we do now guys? This whole thing is rucked up.” 

Pascal: “Let’s get out of here. We have to return Princewill’s car.” 

Element was still bitter. I sensed he was not satisfied with Pascal’s suggestion. I knew what it meant when I saw that look on his face—something rough was on his mind.

Element: “Peter, you see that bastard standing there, he messed with you. The gay motherf**ker treated you like nobody by tricking you, wasting our time and resources too! You think we should all sneak out of here and go away just like that? I’m sure this sonofabitch deserves some lesson! Who knows the next person he’s gonna manipulate? Let’s get this sissy, guys. Ade, you get the car in position.” Nobody objected.

It was getting dark by time we got outside. The gay dude was about leaving the shawarma spot. Ade went straight to turn the car around and put it on gear while the other three of us went to ‘say hello’ to Princess Ella. 

I was not a rough guy. I just happened to be with some and we needed to take care of this embarrassment from Mr. Gay so I was in support. When we were done, he was all messed up like puke. There was no blood but I was sure he’d be a proud owner of a black eye and broken ribs in the morning. We quickly left for the car when the security men started running towards the scene we created. Ade was a good driver-maybe a get-away driver because in no time, we were on the streets all sitting quietly in the ride except Element who was swearing and cursing.

Element: “You know what guys, I think we need to drink away our disappointments. We need to drink away our guilt. It helps in times like this. We won’t stay long, plus it’s weekend.  The bad news is I don’t have money.”

Peter (Narrator): “No way. Not tonight people. Number one, y’all know I don’t drink. All I need is a sound rest. Let’s return Princewill’s car then get back to our tent.” 

It was surprising nobody made fun of the whole situation at Ariel. Every one of my roommates seemed to be emotionally affected too. That was until Ade spoke.

Ade: “I wonder if some people will still chat on 2go again. I can imagine the number of friends of the room waiting to hear the gist of the whole outing. Oboy room go bubble this night. Hehehehe. I should drive faster.”

I knew my roommates. Just what I had been expecting. I knew the sympathy wouldn’t last. It wasn’t even in their nature.

Pascal: “Hmmmm, Ade you sef. No do mek some people go sleep off-camp o. My happiness be say my 3grand don enter my pocket again.”

Element: “At last, you no prove anything to us Pete and I don spend money on top your head. See as you come dull us. mtchew, the whole thing de vex me sef. No worry mek we reach room, life go tire you.”

TALES FROM THE SLUM --by Slick

Episode One

CHINEDU

“Why won’t this lousy young woman pick up the phone? I bet she’s somewhere with one of her Aristos having a swell time and I’m starving to death here.” Chinedu spat out his hateful thoughts as he continuously tried to reach Anita over the phone. He decided to give up after several attempts and collapsed into the red sofa in his one bedroom apartment. Different thoughts swayed through his mind as he pondered on the reason for ill-luck when it came to issues relating to the female sex. Maybe he was just transferring his aggression on her but the fact remained; the worms in his stomach were stinging like scorpions. 

Chinedu held a job as an attendant in a fuel station on Mainland and earned enough to take care of immediate bills, unable to afford the luxury of living an extravagant lifestyle. This affected his choice in women as he did not want to promise a woman what he could not fulfil. He had been in a relationship with Anita for about two years and both of them had been in love. Recently, the organization Chinedu worked with embarked on downsizing the number of staff and Chinedu was relieved of his duties to the organization. He had come home to explain his ordeal to Anita but all efforts to reach her had proved abortive.

A knock on the door forced Chinedu to snap out of his thinking as he got up to find out who was disturbing his meditation.

“Who is it?” Chinedu asked.

“Na your Papa, open door.”

Chinedu immediately recognized the voice of his friend Tunde who lived two blocks away and opened the door. It gave off its usual irritating squeaking sound each time it was opened or closed.

“Guy, I don tell you make you no dey use my Papa play again”

“Is that the reason you have refused to call a carpenter to fix this door?” Tunde responded mockingly as he made his way to the sofa.

“What brings you to my room this hot afternoon?”Chinedu asked as he downed a glass of water from the dispenser.

Tunde recognized the gloomy look on his friend’s face and wondered what must had happened.

“Chiboy, why do you have that sad look? Abi, your Nairabet ticket don cut?”

“Baba, that my stupid oga don sack me o. Him say economy no good o.”

“Blood of Jesus! Which kain bad luck be this naw?” Tunde exclaimed.

“Omoh, na so I see am o Tunde. I am back to the scratch.”

“I was even planning to ask you for money to cut my hair at Shavers.’’

“Tunde, your ear dey pain you abi? I just got fired and you want to cut your hair. Please go away.”

“I understand your plight man. I’m so sorry. I will give you a call later today.”

Chinedu slamed the door behind Tunde and walked furiously to the sofa while cursing under his breath.

“See that Idiot o. I just got sacked and he’s talking about his hair. Some people sha.”

The cursing went on until he noticed the blinking light on the screen of his mobile phone notifying him of a text message that had just arrived. It was a text message from his mother reminding him of his promise to purchase a JAMB form for his younger sister who had just completed her secondary school education. He tossed the phone as his thoughts went back to Anita who had not returned even as the clock struck 5p.m.

ANITA

“Why do you like dating poor boys Anita? I’ve never seen you with a man that can take care of your bills. Na so so church rats.”

“Dupe, did you bring me here to insult me or my Chinedu? If so, I’d love to leave right now.”

“Anita, your problem is that you despise the truth. I don’t think I have said anything wrong.”

“Look, I love Chinedu just the way he is, church rat or not. Moreover, he would not remain that way forever.”Anita replied.

“Na you know. I have said my piece. Let’s head home before the traffic becomes worse than it is already.”

Anita and Dupe had been friends since their secondary school days. They lived several streets apart and hung out once in a while at their favourite hair dressing salon where they kept each other abreast of the latest happenings in their neighbourhoods, relationships, and fashion without leaving out any tiny detail. They were always in competition for who had the latest gossip, clothes and accessories and everything women loved to talk about. Chinedu did not particularly like Dupe since he knew she had been against the relationship between him and his sweetheart. But he did not want to come in between two friends and as such decided to keep at bay.

“Mama, I am simply trying to explain my ordeal at work today to you.”

“So what do you want me to tell the poor girl that girl has worked hard enough to ensure that she passed her WAEC examinations just as you instructed.”

“She would just have to be patient with me. At least I did not sack myself.”

His mother hisses.

“I think I would just send her to you so that you can tell her all these things you are saying to her face.”

“Mama, biko try to understand my situation. Things have taken a bad turn o.”

“Goodbye Chinedu.”

The conversation between Chinedu and his mother had just ended on a sour note. His mother had just threatened to send Gloria to Lagos which means compounding his woes. It was bad enough that he had to deal with Anita on one ear, now it was to be Gloria on the other. He could not bring himself to deal with two women under one roof.

“Chi, are you home?”

Anita opened the door to meet a quiet, yet fuming man playing Snake Xenzia on his mobile phone.

“Chi, how are you na? I’ve been calling your name all through the corridor and you won’t answer.”

“So you have decided to come home after enjoying yourself with your Aristo boyfriend?”  He replied.

“Ahn Ahn Chi, how can you say a thing like that? I only went to see Dupe.”

“How many times have I told you to desist from seeing that girl Anita?”

“Chi, she’s my friend. In fact she’s one of the few friends I have.”

“Whatever.”

“Chi, you do not look nor sound cheerful, that’s not a way to welcome your sweetheart.”

“So, I should start dancing makossa because you have come back.”

Anita smiled and decided to join him on the sofa to cheer him up.

“Have you eaten anything my darling?’’ Anita asked playfully.

“Anita, I was fired from work today.”

“What?” Anita exclaimed in shock.

“What did you do wrong? Did you offend your boss? Did you apologize?”

“Madam, please just take this hundred naira and cook noodles make I chop first.” Chinedu replied.

“Chi, this is a serious matter and you are here talking about noodles.”

“Anita, if you were home when I had the strength to talk, you would have been in luck. Right now, I just want to eat something. After that, I can talk biko.”

Anita collected the money from him with a sad look on her and headed towards the door to purchase noodles for her man. As she headed out, Chinedu picks up a throw pillow and shoves his fist into it while cursing under his breath. He could not stand the sad look on his Anita’s face; neither could he imagine what it would look like when he would tell her about the phone conversation he had with his mother.

          (. . . Watch out for Episode Two)

                              **********

The KOKO Tour After Party

Get ready for the KOKO tour After Party this Sunday 20th December 2015 in Abuja. The "Koko Tour After-Party" will feature D'Banj and Friends: 2Baba, Timaya, Wande Coal, Tonto Dikeh, Vector, Naeto C, Oritse Femi, KaySwitch, 2Kris, Ketchup, Orezi, Banky W. Let's go there

Show Thy Boo Some Love This Christmas

 
This is a photo of the car Tonto Dikeh received from her husband as a gift. This Jeep is a Toyota Prado 2016 car worth about $65k. What else can one do for love? Tell us how you feel

So What Would You Do If Your Best Man Did This?

Wonders will never cease. There's been a photo viral on social media where a best man was grabbing the bride's buttocks during the photoshoot. Here's what the bride had to say:

Oga Na Master

Okay, so its no longer news that Jose Mourinho has been relieved of his duties at Stamford bridge. And some of his players decided to show their shock at the sad news of the exit of the ''Special One''. John Mikel shared this photo with an important message embedded. 'So sad but you had to leave! Gonna miss you boss!! You are still the best!'

TIWA SAVAGE releases Artwork for Her Album R.E.D (Track Listing Included)

Tiwa Savage is set to thrill her fans with her sonorous voice on her forthcoming album R.E.D (Romance Expression Dance)

The 17 Track Album Album features the likes of Dr. SID, Olamide, D’Prince, Wizkid, Busy Signal & Reekado Banks.

Tracklist Below
1. Adura
2. African Waist
3. Ban Bang
4. Ovation ft Olamide
5. Rewind
6. We don’t give a damn
7. Make time
8. If I start to talk ft Dr SID
9. Love me hard
10. Keys to the city ft Busy Signal
11. Before nko ft D’Prince
12. My Darling
13. Kolobi
14. Birthday
15. Say it
16. Go down ft Reekado Banks
17. Bad ft Wizkid

What would your favorite track be? Grab a copy when the album drops.

IBOM 9999 CAROL NIGHT

The 2015 version of the 9,999 christmas carol night in Akwa Ibom state is here again, the event will come up on 19th December, 2015 and it will feature 9999 carol singers and other artists both within the country and afar.

Some Of the Guest Ministers and singers at the event includes Dr. Paul Adefarasin, Founder, Church On the Hills,James Edikan, Sammy Okposon, Freke Umoh, Aity Dennis & a Host Of Others.

Venue; Uyo Township Stadium

Time; 5pm

It can be recalled that the last 9999 carol singers in 2014 broke a record in guinness book of record as the largest christmas carol singer ever.

Source : www.stories1234.com/news-and-column/about-the-dec-19-2015-akwa-ibom-9999-carol-night-see-details-and-singers/11/12/2015/

MOURINHO SACKED...LOL

How are the mighty fallen. Jose Mourinho tenure at Chelsea has come to an end. As a result of a series of shambolic displays this season, the Chelsea board has decided to, fire...sorry, part ways with the special one. More info and yabs, coming soon!!!  The faded blues!!! oh, I even forgot their fans suspended membership this season.

SUDDEN SMOKE --by Nickz

I don’t really know how to rate this true life experience. Maybe it’s funny, scary, embarrassing but I learnt my lesson. I hope you learn from it too.

It was a noon like any other; school activities going on as usual. To be frank, I can’t really recall what the queue was for but I know it was definitely for a compulsory school process. I was in my 200L then.

Usually, I carried my knapsack with me always just to be sure my items (books, drawing tools, hair brush, snacks etc) were intact and I could reach for them anytime. I hated asking for things like pencil eraser, sharpening blade etc. As I was saying, the queue, yes, I took my space behind the last person and waited with folded arms. The line was moving quite alright but I started browsing my phone to ease the boredom of waiting.

The whole movie started playing few minutes later when someone from behind tapped me. "Guy, your bag is smoking!" Just the way it sounds like a joke, I couldn’t really figure out what he meant initially. I noticed that others behind me started to space out, looking suspicious and frightened. "What do you mean?" I asked, looking confused. He stepped backwards, creating a safe space and pointed to my knapsack. "Smoke is coming from your bag!"

Before anyone could say Jack Robinson, people started to run helter-skelter and yell, "Sucide bomber! Boko Haram!" By then, I could see the smoke myself. It was actually coming from my bag. People ran haphazardly, fearing for the worst. The attention of security agents standing close by was drawn. Two hefty agents rushed into me while I was trying to take the bag off. "Put your hands in the air!! Don’t touch the bag!" They knocked me hard on the wall, pulled the bag from me and flung it outside on a nearby field. They searched me for a remote detonator or whatever they thought they could find.

Okay, that was some thriller there. I watch a lot of American movies. Let’s cut the crap. First, no one said Jack Robinson. Secondly, no one ran helter-skelter. This is what happened after the dude notified me of the smoke. I pulled off the bag and threw it off me. Not like I was scared, it was out of caution. People’s attention was drawn and they wanted to know what caused this smoke. Not like the smoke was thick, it was just as light as cigarette smoke yet visible enough to catch attention. I was equally astonished and couldn’t wait to unravel the magic smoke. How could this be? I didn’t go about with some fireworks or local explosives. What or who could be smoking inside my bag?

Grabbing the bag from the floor, I pulled open the zipper of the small section where it was coming from. Lo and behold, the source was the spare battery of my phone in the bag! The battery terminals had come in contact with a silver necklace still in that section. This caused a reaction that led to the heating up of the battery. Everyone was at ease when they found out how the smoke came up. Since then, any time I carry a spare battery, I wrap it securely with paper and stuff it in a special section of the bag. I hope you’ve learnt something too.

TOO COMPLEX! --by Nickz

It’s another week and we’ve resumed our schools, businesses and jobs with the same mind frame we had last week and last month, and probably have been having all our lives. Hello Mr. Employer, why are you ransacking your files for that four-digit number you had written down somewhere? Hi undergraduate, don’t you see you need to do something about it? Why do you keep browsing your phone contacts for those ten digits to fill the deposit slip in the bank? Wait a minute business man; don’t tell me you want to open the calculator to determine four times fifteen! What happened to that precious memory card in your cranium?

Looking back in time and making a quick comparison with the present, the transformation in technology in terms of data processing and storage has been a resounding wow—thanks to handy electronic devices and gadgets. Unfortunately, most of us have decided to slowly kill our mental abilities, ignorantly dwindling in cognitive domain into complacency evolved from digitalization. All our details—phone numbers, e-mail passwords, internet banking details, account numbers, simple schedules and others have been embedded into these digital devices with memory cards, thereby not just making a mockery but starving our gray matter.

Don’t get me wrong by thinking this is intended to drag you into an archaic era. Phones, tablets, laptops and gadgets are good, that’s why I have them and store details too. No one is expecting you to be a walking Wikipedia. However, this should not be an excuse to let cobwebs into your brain. It doesn’t mean you should forget or neglect proper spelling of words because there’s word suggestion feature in your android device. It doesn’t mean you should reach for the calculator app when someone asks you what 20 percent of five hundred is. In some modern day places of work, bosses bear the names while their secretaries and assistants bear the brains.

Students in school most times don’t do well in examination because they cannot commit certain points to memory. Everything appears too complex.  For those in engineering and related fields, you’ll agree with me there’s a whole lot of abstract and outrageous formulas one has to commit to memory, ranging from those of Fourier Series, Laplace Transforms, Trigonometrical Calculus to Castigliano’s equation. The same applies to law, medicine, accounting etc where there’s need to commit certain names, years, quotations and procedures to the brain. We often find out that such tasks, though not quite easy, appear totally unrealistic for most people of this age because they’ve sacrificed their brains to inertia.

I once watched a movie which you probably have too; Walk of Shame. I couldn’t help feeling pity for Meghan when her series of frustrations began in the morning after her vehicle was towed away with her wallet and cell phone. The only three phone numbers she carried in her head were her dad’s, her mom’s and her ex’s which at that moment, were not relevant to her. If she had the contact of a close friend in her head too, it could have saved her day.

To cut the long story short, there’s a huge demand on our memory daily but we often prefer to become lazy. If I write: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 0, you’ll barely notice I didn’t include the number 6 because you probably didn’t pay attention. Imagine if I mixed them up and asked you to memorize the combination! This lackadaisical attitude is not the best. There’s so much capacity in your brain you’ll hate yourself to know you’re barely using it. I don’t want to sound like the motivational speakers that’ll tell you an average human uses less than 5% of the brain during his lifetime.

You don’t have to be the next Aristotle or Albert Einstein to maximize your memory abilities. There are easy ways you can store up to 16 digit numbers and even more in your head, remembering it for a very long time. You can decide to break it into small groups, you can check out for a pattern or way of arrangement, I mean, there are several mnemonics to help us on these kinds of issues.

I’ll encourage you to dust your brain and put it to work again. You can use your digital gadgets to your own favor by downloading materials, puzzles and logic games. Say goodbye to Angry Birds, Temple Run and Real Football. I’m tempted to add Candy Crush but some people will fire missiles at me! The point is; keep your brain alive!

Check out this book in portable document format (PDF). Make sure you read it:

https://www.google.com.ng/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://www.realmemoryimprovement.com/GMS_Manual_RMI.pdf&ved=0ahUKEwi348WoltzJAhUJPRQKHUR6BNUQFggZMAA&usg=AFQjCNE4PQrkJTx2uff-WPqH2ueEOpxGYg&sig2=dA9l-EWx4onVEgpH37ZoMA

THE "READY-MADE" GROOM --by Rose

Growing up with storybooks and Walt Dis­ney cartoons was much fun. Every young girl wanted to be Cinder­ella because she was very beautiful and fell in love with Prince Charming w­ho held her close to prevent her from falling. Who wouldn’t want a Prince Charming? He­ is every girl’s dream. A good number of ladies need Prince Charming and apart from his looks, he must have a pocket filled with golden coins!

Many women are caught up in this fantas­y until reality hits them hard. In today’s society most of our young wom­en are not ready to settle down with a struggling man. They need a "REA­DY-MADE man" who owns a car (a very important asset, a flashy one at t­hat), lots of money as well as a dream job. "After all, my frie­nds have rich guys. I can’t be left out." Well looking for a rich groo­m isn’t a problem but let’s be real; what if Prince Charming doesn’­t show up? Wetin you go do? You go wait grow white­ hairs abi? The fact is this; you are not marrying ­this guy for love. You are greedy. What if his source of income isn’t genuine? What if he is a drug baron, a porn star or a disguised maniac? You may end up a punching bag in matrimony and the riches won’t matter anymore, compared to your happiness.

Babe, please calm down o.­ Riches are not the only forms of wealth—virtue counts. Don’t worry about how much your friends will criticize you for your choice. Your life and happiness depends on you, not them. Let’s change this materia­listic mentality. I’m not saying you should end up with a nobody but marry a man with potentials, that’s hardworking and has a promising future. Be hard-working yourself; stop waiting for­ a man to empower you. Gone are those days. Move forward and stop waiting for Prince C­harming . . . the READY-MADE groom (him fit be Aba made o).

SLAUGHTER ROOM MANIACS 3

Chapter Three: Princess Ella of 2go

It had been a sunny noon and lectures were over for the day. I got back to the room around 5pm, warming up for a good rest. Element was already in the room, sleeping on my bunk (covered in my wrapper. I could swear he was nude beneath). His phone was playing music on the pillow he laid his head—knack you akpako by Terry G. I wondered how that sounded like a lullaby for his sleep. His own bunk (beneath mine) was a bomb explosion site. Clothes, papers, notes, were all over. Dropping my notes, I undressed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. First, I needed to poo the beans I took in last night (third time so far today). I had released a whole lot of silent wonders in lectures. The first toilet was ugly. That was the sickening thing about our hostel toilets; there was always a mess. Whoever poured in that voluminous diarrhoea without flushing must had eaten dynamite, judging from the way it splashed all over. I stepped into the next one. It was almost ok except for a big floating ball of stool. I flushed. It popped up again. My god! What are these boys eating? The third one had deep yellow urine in it with a repulsive stink. I flushed, relaxed on it and let go my burdens before it was late.

I had a quick shower, finished up and was returning to the room. Pascal and Giraffe were back. I knew. I could hear an argument coming from the room. It was football argument. I got in and asked them to chill out so we could straighten things calmly. I really needed to sleep but the baseless battle to prove who was right or wrong went on and on. Few ‘friends of the room’ got attracted and stopped by to add or subtract from the argument. We all knew who Pascal was when it came to arguments. I tried to be the mediator, playing the referee. I still needed to get some rest because I had to study by 9:30pm. I didn’t know how to pull the plug to stop this anarchy. Then I remembered what my Dad used to tell me: “Son, always walk away from trouble, it proves you more mature.” I assumed this rowdiness was an extended family member of trouble. I quietly climbed my bunk and left the parrots to fate.

I cannot recall how but I finally slept off. Two hours later, I was awake to the sound of our room’s musical set. It was playing moderately (meaning loud but not blasting). Everybody was in, plus few friends of the room. I felt better and more relaxed after the nap so I was ready for any mischief anyone launched. It was 8:12pm so I still had some little time to while off before 9:30pm. Feeling lazy to rise up from the bunk, I pulled out my E6 under the pillow and casually browsed through it. I had some unread 2go messages. I read and replied them and before I knew, I was deeply chatting.

 Element was washing pot and I suspected he was about to cook beans again. I looked down at him (from Ade’s up bunk where I lay). Last night, he cooked beans late with the electric stove and the gen went off while the seeds were not soft enough to be edible. We were hungry so we just added oil and other ingredients—pot on the floor. We stirred and ate it hot. That’s why I had rushed to the toilet three times today.

I playfully warned Element not to let that ever happen again after telling everyone about the confusions I caused in lectures today. Ade, Pascal and the other three guys were playing cards round Ade’s table. Ade and Pascal quickly added their own versions while playing their game. Element said we had other digestive problems and not from last night’s beans because he wasn’t affected in any way. I had almost forgotten a mad man’s meal could be a sane man’s poison.

He was now selecting the beans. It looked small in quantity.

Peter (Narrator): “You want cook chop alone tell me make I go canteen now”

Element: “Shebi you get rice, do make we join for this beans cook. The beans no go do four people.”

Peter (Narrator): “Now you de talk. Check that black polythene for my locker, commot two cups o. Mek that small rice reach weekend”

Element: “You de learn. All these ruminants wey full room you de talk two cups,” referring to the three                    guys from other rooms.  

Peter (Narrator): “We de run charity? abeg wen we cook finish everybody to their tent.” I added casually as I was focusing on my chat.

There was this chat friend I had been flowing with for a week now. We met in the flirt room so we hooked up from there because I “seem to be a funny guy” to her. Her profile name was Princess Ella. Surprisingly, the sweetness of her name matched her beauty. She was the most beautiful of all the chat friends I had, attractively tall and model-like plus, she was residing within the state. She obviously enjoyed chatting with me on daily basis and our chats touched a whole lot of areas; fashion, Nollywood, comedy, relationship life, philosophies, football, as far as our views on homosexuality which was becoming a common topic amongst youngsters. Yesterday, while we were chatting, one talk led to the other and she messaged me her digits. I couldn’t believe it! I didn’t even ask for it because I had no other plans beyond chatting. I knew I had changed in a lot of negative ways since the beginning of my stay in this room. I developed a bad mouth too (almost like Ade) and a host of other new characteristics for survival reasons (else, I would had been a punching bag for playful abuses and jesting) but I still retained my stance on relationship matters. For a moment, I wanted to share this news with my roommates but I had a re-thought. If I did, they’d call me names for not knowing what to do next.

Ade: “Peter this one you just de lie down de smile on your own, you de masturbate?” I was taken off by the question. I was unconscious of that fact. Now everyone turned in my direction, roaring out in laughter. I couldn’t help laughing along.

Peter (Narrator): “Na your grandmother de masturbate, mumu. I de finger phone you de talk trash”

Ade seemed to pick interest on what I was doing. He came and peeped on my screen.

Ade:     “Seriously, Peter you still de use 2go for this generation, you de shame this room o. That your Chinko no de gree whatsapp? Abi you no sabi say your mates de tweet Obama? Even Badoo you no hear. You just de 2go nonsense de laugh. I know say na one village chick you de chat with”

Though he knew I used an E6, and had all those apps he mentioned, some things were just said for fun. Besides, I had a special affinity for 2go. This long, ugly guy was just born with the talent of ridiculing and jesting.

Peter (Narrator): “Na guy e one be before? Free me jor.”

Element was setting up the electric stove but when he heard the mention of ‘chick’, his batteries turned green.

Element: “Maybe one chick don send am nude pic. Hahahahaha. If na chat you go chat for two straight days with woman. To stand woman front talk go turn Nigeria-Biafra.”

Peter (Narrator): “I’ve told you several times I could out-do you with girls if I wanted to. It’s a matter of choice.” Element gave out a mocking laughter, the way a proud lecturer would probably laugh when a fresh student told him his maths was wrong.

Element: “You? How can? You one go do juju make chicks like you? How you one take start reach me now?”

Ade: “Yeah, him fit ‘out-do’ you now, with sisters and female cousins. Him get them plenty. See him mouth like out-do”

Peter (Narrator): “Wetin carry this vulture neck come put for my yan?” Ade just ignored me and went on.

Ade: “...or him go browse google. ‘fastest way virgin guys get girls’ Hahahaha”

This lasted for over thirty minutes and the bullets kept flying at me. This was one area I was vulnerable to as far as jesting was concerned. Pascal never spoke all the while; he was just laughing and choking himself to tears as I was being slaughtered. His mocking laughter had a way of igniting annoyance. I was really getting slaughtered.

Pascal: “Chai! oboy these boys don kill you! Na three heart tricks be dat o. You no want do counter attack? Peter abeg say something...If na me, I no for gree o!” then his volcanic laughter followed.

Ade: “Registration forms don comot for seminary. E be like you go need one.”

Element: “fine boy like you just de waste. To socialize with girls for campus na court case. If you no learn am here, na for special training school you one go learn? Dull man”

At a point, Ade modified the mockery to look like an advice from a concerned friend.

Ade: “See Peter make I tell you truth now when e still early. I de very serious. See if you no learn some things now, e go really hard you I swear. If you de continue like this reach 30, your Mama go just voke enter villa go comot one Ekaette come put for your house”

Peter (Narrator): “Wetin I do una now, biko?”

Nobody was playing card again. Everyone had sat up for the bigger game-the slaughter game. The three guys from other rooms were really catching fun too.

                                                                                                                                         

Everyone fired at me. I was the victim here—the object of the jesting.  In my early days in the room, I used to feel very upset and defensive in moments like this. Unfortunately, it had usually made it worst because it exposed my weakness and ascended the jesting and laughter. With time, I grew stronger and resistant then with more time, I became an attacker too. Tonight was different. I felt most of my strength gone. They were really getting at me. The only way I could bail myself out was to prove them Peter (Narrator): “Alright guys, alright guys. Chill out first. Just chill out let me say something now! Ok, what if I can prove you guys wrong, that I can actually make out with a beautiful girl?”

Everyone was silent. I think they were trying to digest what came out of my mouth.

“Huh?” They all echoed in unison.

Peter (Narrator): “Now, this is what I’m saying. Y’all know I’m good looking and fun. Girls like me but the thing is, I don’t just wonna get into any love affair. Let me show you guys something.”

I downloaded Princess Ella’s profile pic from 2go and showed it to all of them. I told them she’s crazy about me and that she had sent me her digits. They looked at the pic as if trying to conjure the girl to step out of the phone. They couldn’t help whistling and exclaiming at her beauty.

“Y’all see that? That girl is crazy for me. Girls do like me and I can date anyone if I care. I just don’t really care guys”

Now, I got everyone’s attention. Element was dazed I could see it. Anything women affairs, could do so to him. He came closer to feel my neck with the back of his palm. I didn’t understand what he was doing.

Element: “Precious dearest goodness! My god! True true, you no well Peter. That kind confirm babe send you number, you de dull?”

Ade: “Peter, wait, na family curse de follow you? Do make we carry you go Synagogue now o. This your dulling full drums pour!”

Element: “Guys hold on. Peter you don even call the chick at all?”

Actually I didn’t call Princess Ella yet. They were all disappointed.

Element: “Ok guys, mek we replay wetin him bin talk before. Shebi you bin say you fit prove us wrong unto say you fit date beautiful girl abi?”

Ade: “No, na ‘make out’ him talk, no be just date”, he inserted.

Peter (Narrator): “I meant to say, ‘ask out’ punk!” referring to Ade. Shit, I was playing defence again.

Ade: “You’re welcome virgin boy” I hated when he called me that and he knew.

Element: “Guys! Back to business. Una suppose sabi say this chick thing na step by step. Remember say na my field of calling be this. So Peter, we want see this proof, how you go take convince us say you fit date chick eh?”

I thought of it for some seconds. I had never asked a girl out before but it didn’t seem a big deal. All I needed was to apply the same logic of chat in the real situation. Before I could speak out, Element started something that pulled my manhood to the edge.

Element: “Ok, let’s do it like this: I bet 2 grand you don’t have balls enough to take Princess Ella out on a date.” Now, he was dead serious as he pulled the bills out of his wallet and slapped them on the table. This broke guy was betting two thousand naira on my balls!

The room cheered wildly and other mates seemed to be challenged. When everyone cooled, Ade spoke.

Ade: “This is the shit I’m talking about! I bet 1 grand Princess Ella won’t pick your calls at all!” He announced vigorously. Quickly browsing through his drawer, he found his wallet, drew out his wager and dropped it near Element’s. This was a big push on my back.

Pascal: “Wow! Everyone’s betting. This is really serious. Ok, Peter, I promise you your Princess will let you down on your first date. 3grand!”  He made a promissory. All hell was let lose in the room.

I was sweating by then. That was it. The die was cast. It was too late to chicken out. 6 grand on my manhood wasn’t child’s play.

Element: “Do we have a deal, Prince Ella?” I was afraid Pascal will choke to death. His outrageous laughter choked him and he coughed like hell.

Peter (Narrator): “Deal! This is the easiest 6 grand I’ll ever earned losers!” Show time was on.