There are times when being exact gets you in big trouble, I mean, unforgettable trouble. Let me explain this way; you are going from Costain to Oyingbo and the bus fare to and fro is N60. In order to ensure that you are financially discipline, you take exactly N60, or let’s say N100. Sure, you can get into big trouble.
That was my lot in the month of July 2013. I saved seventy percent of my salary with friends that invested it in their businesses, ten percent to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and the remaining twenty percent for my upkeep. Hummmmm? You say.
Yes. My second year as a master’s student of the University of Lagos was fast approaching and I needed to assemble 0.16million Naria, having paid 0.2 million Naira the first year. I also had to assemble money for accommodation since the Nigerian Army seemed to be ‘waiting for godot’. For me, God’s will be done.
I got a call from my brother who spoke about a woman with BIS and the fact that they needed Literature in English teacher who had or was on his master’s degree. My elder brother sent me her number and indeed, I was disinterested. I checked my pocket, had about 1,200N left. I took a deep breath. It is worth the stress. I recharge 300N since the woman was using Etisalat. It will be bad to apologise to a business acquaintance that your credit got exhausted. It isn’t professional.
I dialled her number to book an appointment- 12noon on Saturday (the following day) was agreed. Humm. I called my Aduni to reassure her of my undying love for her, despite neither sending credit to her phone nor bank account. What sort of fiance am I?
Anyway, I did all the sweet talking from my heart because indeed she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I left my school at about 4pm with a colleague. Well, let me say a brother, ‘cause he is more than a colleague and I’m proud of him any day. I spent another 200N on transportation, having a whooping 700Naira left.
I was to get to Badore to see a friend for something quite urgent- no, not romance, but finance. Please don’t think that. Romance is not the only urgent thing. But lord have mercy when I’m on fire. My Aduni can tell.
Badoreing cost me another 250Naira and I was left 450N. Got back to the room filled with hunger and a dangerous joy- the joy that kills. I ate the left-over in the pot and was in bed.
I woke up the following day with doubt but glory to God. I concluded that the appointment with the BIS woman will be for my friend who was teaching in faraway Taraba. I called him to convince him to come for the interview on Tuesday, but like Thomas, he wasn’t ready to leave certainty for uncertainty. He said, he would think about it. I checked the internet for the school, their structure and curricula. It is affiliated to several UK and Canadian Universities. Let me write the interview for my friend. I can’t jump out of my school for now. My curriculum vitae will be too terrible to look at. Working for 8months with the first school; another for four months; having taught in twelve different schools in just nine years of my teaching profession. Terrible you say, yeah, pretty terrible. No sack letter, just one query in nine years. Whaoo!
It was 12:37pm already and I apologised to the woman and fixed another for 7pm. I studied a little and was dressed by 4pm. I got to Lekki phrase one at exactly 6:02pm. I strolled around the Estate and was determined to bet that it was incomparably better than VGC, not until I saw the other side. I gave the woman a call and she affirmed that she would be around at 7:00pm only to be present at 7:05pm.
It was a long and unending discussion but the most important aspect was the remuneration. She said I should expect about 170, 000N to 200, 000N. That was after I lied that I collect 120, 000N from where I currently serve. She promised that the school will send me abroad for further training. I equally lied that my longest duration with a school during my years of teaching was a year and half, when it is actually just one year, that is, if up to that.
I imagined what had made me lie conveniently and convincingly. I was very sure something was wrong. Yes, I hadn’t ejaculated for over four months except for wet dream and had being faithfully avoiding more serious and better interestingly rewarding iniquities.
After the discourse, I moved away from her second new Jeep and walked towards Mainstreet bank and then to the gate. So fortunate was I, there was no on-coming vehicle and I crossed the express road in a hurry.
All of a sudden, I heard, ‘you are under arrest, don’t move, and don’t talk.’ What? That was when I realized that a pedestrian bridge was just right ahead of me. I got confused. I didn’t ask for my crime, of course I knew. I was placed in the vehicle like a criminal.
‘Please! E! I! Humm! Sorry! I’m a graduate, this is my first time here. Please, Jesus, I’m from Osun State. I didn’t know. I swear to God. Anything. Ha! Ye! I have just 210N on me. I live at Langbasa. Ha! Please don’t drive the vehicle, mo gbe,’ I kept talking.
I remembered my day at Jalingo prison, not as an inmate, but a motivational speaker. I remembered how the people cried loud when I asked them if they knew the word vengeance. I begged them to let go, that was then, because vengeance is of God. I remembered how a prison warden, hit a sick old man with robust baton. How the inmates fought with the last drop of their blood over who gets water first. The water wasn’t sufficient and if you don’t fight dirty, you don’t get water to drink. Everyone must fight dirty, including the prison pastor and Imam. The punches, the hammering of metal bucket on someone’s face, the dragging of the defeated on the graved round the prison premises, breaking of bone that calls for no better medical attention but Paracetamol, among other. I resumed my necessary but senseless speech. I won’t survive prison.
‘Broz please, I’m from Osun State, from Ori-Ade Local Government Area. I’m from Ijebu-jesa town. Please! Ha! Ok take my phone, but I will remove my sim and memory cards. E jo! Ha! This is my degree certificate that I snapped on my phone. I’m an English teacher.’
The man was like 007, unmovable. I imagined myself, a good Nigerian giving bribe. Will I rather be imprisoned for being greedy-‘not wanting to shake body’ than give my phone.
The crime any security man arrests you for is not the basic, the cell is jam-packed already. I will only be a burden, but if I don’t give something, they will put me there and I will be on awaiting trial for years if not decades. And if anyone is ready to agree to bail me, bail is free but they have to pay for utilities- and that is about 20, 000N per month. The DPO must get his share.
He asked me if I had any cash on me, even 500N. I answered the negative. Then I knew that money was more important to these myopic set of uncivilized fools in uniform. Of course I didn’t say that out.
Immediate, my phone became his with no receipt, nor document. Officer! Hummm. If only I had just N500 or N200 on me, those cheap demons dressed in black wouldn’t have taken my phone. Being exact can be a minus ooo. Please take more cash.
Just a story
ONI AFOLABI AJIBOLA www.afolabioni.blogspot.com
08036126690, oniafolabiajibola@yahoo.com
28/July/2013, 7:25pm
Monday, July 29, 2013
Being Exact
There are times when being exact gets you in big trouble, I mean, unforgettable trouble. Let me explain this way; you are going from Costain to Oyingbo and the bus fare to and fro is N60. In order to ensure that you are financially discipline, you take exactly N60, or let’s say N100. Sure, you can get into big trouble.
That was my lot in the month of July 2013. I saved seventy percent of my salary with friends that invested it in their businesses, ten percent to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and the remaining twenty percent for my upkeep. Hummmmm? You say.
Yes. My second year as a master’s student of the University of Lagos was fast approaching and I needed to assemble 0.16million Naria, having paid 0.2 million Naira the first year. I also had to assemble money for accommodation since the Nigerian Army seemed to be ‘waiting for godot’. For me, God’s will be done.
I got a call from my brother who spoke about a woman with BIS and the fact that they needed Literature in English teacher who had or was on his master’s degree. My elder brother sent me her number and indeed, I was disinterested. I checked my pocket, had about 1,200N left. I took a deep breath. It is worth the stress. I recharge 300N since the woman was using Etisalat. It will be bad to apologise to a business acquaintance that your credit got exhausted. It isn’t professional.
I dialled her number to book an appointment- 12noon on Saturday (the following day) was agreed. Humm. I called my Aduni to reassure her of my undying love for her, despite neither sending credit to her phone nor bank account. What sort of fiance am I?
Anyway, I did all the sweet talking from my heart because indeed she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I left my school at about 4pm with a colleague. Well, let me say a brother, ‘cause he is more than a colleague and I’m proud of him any day. I spent another 200N on transportation, having a whooping 700Naira left.
I was to get to Badore to see a friend for something quite urgent- no, not romance, but finance. Please don’t think that. Romance is not the only urgent thing. But lord have mercy when I’m on fire. My Aduni can tell.
Badoreing cost me another 250Naira and I was left 450N. Got back to the room filled with hunger and a dangerous joy- the joy that kills. I ate the left-over in the pot and was in bed.
I woke up the following day with doubt but glory to God. I concluded that the appointment with the BIS woman will be for my friend who was teaching in faraway Taraba. I called him to convince him to come for the interview on Tuesday, but like Thomas, he wasn’t ready to leave certainty for uncertainty. He said, he would think about it. I checked the internet for the school, their structure and curricula. It is affiliated to several UK and Canadian Universities. Let me write the interview for my friend. I can’t jump out of my school for now. My curriculum vitae will be too terrible to look at. Working for 8months with the first school; another for four months; having taught in twelve different schools in just nine years of my teaching profession. Terrible you say, yeah, pretty terrible. No sack letter, just one query in nine years. Whaoo!
It was 12:37pm already and I apologised to the woman and fixed another for 7pm. I studied a little and was dressed by 4pm. I got to Lekki phrase one at exactly 6:02pm. I strolled around the Estate and was determined to bet that it was incomparably better than VGC, not until I saw the other side. I gave the woman a call and she affirmed that she would be around at 7:00pm only to be present at 7:05pm.
It was a long and unending discussion but the most important aspect was the remuneration. She said I should expect about 170, 000N to 200, 000N. That was after I lied that I collect 120, 000N from where I currently serve. She promised that the school will send me abroad for further training. I equally lied that my longest duration with a school during my years of teaching was a year and half, when it is actually just one year, that is, if up to that.
I imagined what had made me lie conveniently and convincingly. I was very sure something was wrong. Yes, I hadn’t ejaculated for over four months except for wet dream and had being faithfully avoiding more serious and better interestingly rewarding iniquities.
After the discourse, I moved away from her second new Jeep and walked towards Mainstreet bank and then to the gate. So fortunate was I, there was no on-coming vehicle and I crossed the express road in a hurry.
All of a sudden, I heard, ‘you are under arrest, don’t move, and don’t talk.’ What? That was when I realized that a pedestrian bridge was just right ahead of me. I got confused. I didn’t ask for my crime, of course I knew. I was placed in the vehicle like a criminal.
‘Please! E! I! Humm! Sorry! I’m a graduate, this is my first time here. Please, Jesus, I’m from Osun State. I didn’t know. I swear to God. Anything. Ha! Ye! I have just 210N on me. I live at Langbasa. Ha! Please don’t drive the vehicle, mo gbe,’ I kept talking.
I remembered my day at Jalingo prison, not as an inmate, but a motivational speaker. I remembered how the people cried loud when I asked them if they knew the word vengeance. I begged them to let go, that was then, because vengeance is of God. I remembered how a prison warden, hit a sick old man with robust baton. How the inmates fought with the last drop of their blood over who gets water first. The water wasn’t sufficient and if you don’t fight dirty, you don’t get water to drink. Everyone must fight dirty, including the prison pastor and Imam. The punches, the hammering of metal bucket on someone’s face, the dragging of the defeated on the graved round the prison premises, breaking of bone that calls for no better medical attention but Paracetamol, among other. I resumed my necessary but senseless speech. I won’t survive prison.
‘Broz please, I’m from Osun State, from Ori-Ade Local Government Area. I’m from Ijebu-jesa town. Please! Ha! Ok take my phone, but I will remove my sim and memory cards. E jo! Ha! This is my degree certificate that I snapped on my phone. I’m an English teacher.’
The man was like 007, unmovable. I imagined myself, a good Nigerian giving bribe. Will I rather be imprisoned for being greedy-‘not wanting to shake body’ than give my phone.
The crime any security man arrests you for is not the basic, the cell is jam-packed already. I will only be a burden, but if I don’t give something, they will put me there and I will be on awaiting trial for years if not decades. And if anyone is ready to agree to bail me, bail is free but they have to pay for utilities- and that is about 20, 000N per month. The DPO must get his share.
He asked me if I had any cash on me, even 500N. I answered the negative. Then I knew that money was more important to these myopic set of uncivilized fools in uniform. Of course I didn’t say that out.
Immediate, my phone became his with no receipt, nor document. Officer! Hummm. If only I had just N500 or N200 on me, those cheap demons dressed in black wouldn’t have taken my phone. Being exact can be a minus ooo. Please take more cash.
Just a story
ONI AFOLABI AJIBOLA www.afolabioni.blogspot.com
08036126690, oniafolabiajibola@yahoo.com
28/July/2013, 7:25pm
Sunday, July 21, 2013
TIME TO COMPROMISE IS NEAR
TIME TO COMPROMISE IS CLOSE
In life, what we often plan, does not often see the light of day. You plan to be a doctor, but end up a conductor, or better an instructor. Why is life heartless? Probably because it is not just about me and my ability to keep my words? Maybe it also about others being faithful to the creed that binds every two?
At the Federal Medical Centre, Ebute-meta, I was mad at the way people jumped queue and people who just came will go to their partners in crime who is a staff to grant them a favour of forwarding their files at the expense of the anxious masses diligently waiting to see the doctor.
What if I was employed here, would I join others in this favouritism? Can I be a crusader for justice and fairness? Even if I want to be, once I see my people (parents, wife etc) being cheated and waiting endlessly on the queue, I will compromise.
Later that evening, I was in the sitting room bored with the power outage and looking the picture of my beauty queen. I had just changed her name from sweet aduni to Aduni on my contact. I searched my phone to check for another image in order to change the image I will be seeing when she calls. I was okay with the captivating sight of hers in her sky-blue lace and blue gele.
Satisfied with the selection, I decided to go through the images again. I had to do that to ensure that she was all I had in my memory. I deleted every contact of any lady that could tempt me except Dolapo-that is in my head and will be hypocritical to delete.
I went through the pictures again; I saw the sky-blue shirt on tight skirt. Hummmm, I could feel the sexuality in the picture. ‘All these for me?’ I thought of asking her to delete it, so that I will be for my eyes only. The pictures were basically to show me that her butt had become bigger and her breast was still intact. ‘The female teacher that snapped these must be bad. A photo section of clear pornography in clothes, strictly for me, she must delete it. I will be the one that will have it alone.’
Calling her was impossible, my battery was flat. PHCN was grateful to restore the light. I charged my phone and with the thought in my head. ‘For my eyes only’. Switching on my phone Aduni called, I was mad with joy. After the greetings, few information and all the paparazzi. I asked her who snapped the sexy pictures.
It was as if a curb harmer hit my head when she said it was a man. A teacher, and she posed flaunting joyfully. She never told me before now. A guy snapped her full back view, saved it on his phone and sent her a copy. What is she? Who is she? Can I ….? Isn’t my life a waste? Anyway, she said sorry. She didn’t mean it. How ridiculous.
When on earth have I ever allowed a woman to snap me reflecting my shape or in singlet? Well, I can’t doubt her. But this is the 9th time I’m getting to know something about her not directly from her. I must be a fool to think a man can leave his entire life with one woman and vice versa.
My parents started with joint account. Mummy felt, dad was cheating and spending money on girls outside and decided to quit the joint account. How foolishly stupid! Every man will not pay evil for evil, but evil for greater evil.
Now my Aduni is following suite. Men pour over her, I absolutely isolated. Maybe that was the reason I can’t touch her, she has back up? Of course not. Sure, you don’t trust a woman that betrays your trust. I wouldn’t have believed if I was told. I hate revealing dresses, she wore one that the life of her breast was revealing on Saturday. This babe no send me.
Anyway, I am human, I can presuppose that a woman with revealing dresses wants sex. And a woman that will allow a man to snap her breast and butt, save it to his phone, collect to her phone and send to her mugu’s phone must be ….
My sincerity within the marriage wed-lock is anchored on my partner’s sincerity. In the court of law, ignorance is not an excuse. If she wears revealing clothes, I will start wearing ring, drinking, smoking and having stylish hair cut. If she says it is time to play games, who am I not to? I might have planned my life one way. But what if, my partner is ‘smart’ what the hack will I do?
You plan, you wish, you pray. Others determine if you will compromise or not. The time to compromise is close.
Just a story.
08036126690
Afolabi Ajibola ONI
15 June 2013, 10:08pm
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