Posted in Fiction and Poetry, Story Series

Replacement Husband: Agbero ti take over


That day was bad like every day in Lagos, the heat was like hellfire, Nobody can pray to suffer like most of the Passengers did. A White Minibus taking its turn, was parked in the front of a long queue of other buses, the passengers seemed accustomed to the heat and sweat. Obviously the youngest person in that bus would have lived in Lagos for at least a decade of their lives, so the Sun plus the noise and rambling Agberos played on like a familiar Orchestra. There was a certain pattern to it, the departing buses would revv their engines, the returning ones would screech to a halt, the garage boys would run around pulling passengers for a quick job of carrying their bags.

There were another class of Agbero and of interest to this story is the one who was calling a bus from Ojotta Eko to Ibadan, he had the perfect frog voice and recklessly made his call for passengers sometimes bending his voice to almost make a tune. A woman struts along hastily, stumbling blindly with her bag and a man in her wake. She is the Owner of a major supermarket in Central Ikeja but somehow on this day, she was in tears and the man behind her was her husband who had seized her car keys and told her off to the park.

Bako sights the two coming along and rushes over asking questions “Madame Ki lo Sele, what Iyaff happen?” his concerns show in his voice as he glances from woman to man and back to the crying woman.

“Will you collect the bag my friend and stop asking silly questions”, Dayo yells at Bako and does not wait to see if he got his message across. Dayo turns to Tola who is now standing close to the bus window, he taps her shoulder and leans in to glare at her. “If you like, come back late tomorrow and tell me the goods you are buying are too much to carry in a day!” he barks out. Suddenly a resounding slap catches Dayo on the back of the neck, he swiftly turns to glare at his assailant. “Abi aye n shey e ni? Have you collect family curse? How you shatt for woman like that?”. Dayo’s puffing chest and clenched fist makes to move and another heavier slap swipes his lower lip into his nose and face (that stinging feeling ehnnn).

” Please bros, leave am na my husband”, the other agberos come around and Dayo is bundled out of the park. That is the story of how Tola started spending weekends at Bako’s boy’s quarter apartment in Ketu, she would help him cook, clean him up and teach him some elementary lessons in English. Her husband who used to have her attention and fear, realised she was no longer interested in his affairs. Tola used to be the woman begging to be touched by her husband, she would sometimes just huddle up close to his turned back to feel his skin and savour the scent she knew when they first met.

Tola built her business from scratch and along the line Dayo had swept her off her feet, promising the heavens and the sky. He turned out to be her greatest demon. She worship the ground he trod and hardly could make a move without his approval. She worked, while Dayo
clubbed and partied. The slap that turned tables came from Bako, after that encounter at the park he became Tola’s guardian angel. His coarseness and crass nature ended at the park, he was the perfect gentleman at home and they would spend several hours talking in half pidgin english and most other times in Yoruba.

6 months and a year later, Tola had built a 3 bedroom where she spends the weekends with Bako. Here she was after 10 years of hell, she had found love in the most unlikely places. Should she just replace Dayo totally? Leave their matrimonial home for him? Or should she hold on to Bako till he would move on and she would return to her crazy husband who had started cuddling her leg at night and washing his own panties?

1. Agbero – is the yoruba word for bus conductors.
2. Lagos is the industrial hub of Nigeria.
3. This story was inspired by Isaac Newton’s “Voice of Lagos”- episode in ” Living in Gidi”.

Posted in Story Series, Up and Close

10 habits of happy people


My life is like a freight train, it sometimes has an open roof and people dump their refuse while I pass by. Imagine night train passing through a lonely town. The people don’t have waste disposal systems and there are no waste collectors, so they stand by the rail line, eagerly waiting for the freight train at night.

The train slows down “CLING CLONG CLING CLONG” and then like bugs, parasites; they perch on the sides of the Carriage and fling their rubbish on to the train. The gullible driver, rides on none the wiser!

1. You must not spend your days so involved that you fill it up with everyone’s agenda except your own. Have your own plans!

2. Do not take rest stops because you think everyone does so, don’t visit a friend because you think everyone is doing so. They may just hand you your next problem!

3. Strange Admirers always have motives, they eagerly wait for you to arrive, they perch on you like mosquitoes and fleece you of the little time you have.

4. Strange Admirers are the ones you have hardly known but they already love everything about you, it never lasts long.

5. Every human comes with a load of baggage and fights, you cannot be part of everyone’s battles. Pick the battles that affect you directly and let every other one slide.

6. One minute you are here and the next minute you are gone, life is too fleeting to attach importance to everything, everyone, every place. Be deliberate about what you allow in your limited time!

7. Don’t wave to the stragglers, they always  have stories to tell. Rumour mongers always know something that happened to someone that started somewhere…… and on and on till half of life is spent on Idle chatter.

8. Gain momentum when things go downhill, the rail is fastest when the coach seems to be nosediving.

9. No one cares about you as much as they care about their rubbish, their need to transfer aggression, ill-feelings, burdens, usually outweighs whatever time and energy loss that it would cost you to participate in their drama. This is why everyone thinks every one else should learn to be “loyal”, don’t trade loyalty for freedom.

10. Pay your dues, society develops the rail line, it is important only to take a break when you have to give back to society. 

These are ideals that cut across religious and cultural differences, they would make a stronger person of you. It is not important so much to be influential as it is to be free, to be happy till death takes us.

I hope you have a great weekend as it approaches, drop your comments and tell me what you love about this post and any other wise thoughts that would help my friends to live happier lives.

Posted in Story Series

My Father’s Flaws


I know Daddy will stumble on this things I am telling you someday, but I want to talk about him while he is still alive. We did not do to well at talking as buddies, I am tempted to envy those of you who had fathers that sit you on their laps and whisper funny jokes but I still love the tiny bits about my father. I like that he is very human despite the “Macho” idea he gave us while growing up.

Recently he sent me a document on Whatsapp, it was a story of a boy and his apple tree. My Dad probably does not know how to tell us he misses us, so he has been digging around on Quora and all the new places on his new phone, looking for indirect ways to tell us how he feels. See my dad loves to surf the net, he likes to pick a lot of ideas from different places and he likes to share those tiny bits of our world with us because he thinks that is the best way to reach out to us.

Dad’s love is like smoke, from afar it remains elusive and indirect, it looks hazy and enticing and I must say he is very good at being sensitive when I am away. The flaw my Dad’s love has is the way it chokes you when you get close enough, he starts to demand for more and more attention, just like that smoke. My Dad is a consuming energy force, he is the kind of person who desires total allegiance and see I really don’t blame him, My Dad is a Man of God, a Preacher, and I really love what he does for people.

God the father according to scripture does not hassle you when you go astray, he allows you space and calls to you in hurt, in pain, he shows you affection and tries the use of pain and enticement, to draw you back to him. The moment you get back to God, he starts to ask for more; break your idols, serve only me, throw out the daughters of gentiles, sanctify yourself, and on and on and on….till the people get so choked and lose their bearing, they run away again.

I do not blame the father, neither do I blame the son. This thing called love is like opium, it wants to consume all space available, even the few times I have loved, I have been like that. I start with wanting more time, I want her to call me more, I want her to show more commitment, I want to know I have all of her heart, I feel down cast when she does not give more and this continues to distress me and distress the girl who I just wanted to love.

I don’t know if you have learnt anything at all, be aware like I told you in my last note about my Father, I don’t intend to teach you any lesson you don’t find on your own. So I will just write and I expect you to do the maths on your own. So that’s it for today, my father is a very flawed man, he is a good man too.