Triangle

MELVIN

We were in my room when I told her. We were both sitting cross-legged on my bed, the white powder cut in lines between us. It’s hard getting coke in this area but somehow that guy in 3A always has some. Nobody knows how he gets it. Nobody cares.

So, there she was across me. A little of the coke on the tip of her nose but yet she looked beautiful.

“Muna”, I said and she looked at me without moving her head, just raising her eyes.

“You know…I think..umm..I think I love you.”

I said it. I really said it.

She just kept on looking at me for a while, then she bent down, face to the bed, nose to the coke. She sniffed quite a few, raised her head and winked at me.

I smiled. It was my turn. I bent down and sniffed too. My nose was itchy and I was sure it was bleeding a little but I didn’t mind. It was my turn.

I knew she loved me too. I knew. She didn’t need words. I reached across the lines of powder and held her bare legs. She was just in her panties. She leaned forward a little and I smiled.

The ceiling fan whirred on as we had sex nay, made love. We made love on top of the coke, its whiteness mixing with our sweat. We didn’t mind. We could always get the white powder again.

MUNA

I wonder why he thinks I always want to have sex. He touches my leg (or any part of me for that matter) and I don’t do anything, next thing he is on top of me.

Horny bastard. The guy’s got stamina though. Gotta give him that.

We wasted some good blow though. Rolling around in it, I wanted to push him off the bed but he was too strong for that. After some time, I didn’t mind though, the sex took over and the blow was wasted.

I know Stan would never do such. I know Stan would never waste such good blow, I know he would cherish it…but then again, Stan wouldn’t like cocaine. He would see it as bourgeoisie, some stuff for the rich kids. I am a rich kid, Melvin is a rich kid, Stan isn’t.

“Ya got some weed?” That was his line. His question to anybody that looked like a dealer.

I miss him.

Why did you leave, Stan?

“I wanna travel, hun…see places…do new things”

“No, Stan…stay here…see me…do me.”

But he had left. With just a backpack and a little money, he had left. With no phone, he had left. I didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t either.

“I’m doing it bohemian style, babe”

Bohemian style, my ass. Nobody just ups and leaves like that in this country. I thought it was all the weed talking but he had left and I miss him.

Melvin said that he loves me,I hope he snaps outta it.

KELVIN

The party is really cool and he’s here. Down by the bar, hanging onto every word she says. I would hang on to anything he says. And other things.

Paul whom I had shagged last 2 nights passed by saying Hi but I don’t say anything back. Just kept on looking at beautiful Melvin…with Muna. I wonder what he sees in her. I wonder if he is like that. Like me – a boy like him sometimes is.

I can only hope.

MUNA

We left the party early. Melvin and I. To his room. To some new blow. To the music turned on quite loud. I made sure of it, I had turned up the volume on his stereo myself. I didn’t need his banter. I didn’t need his noise. I had made up my mind.

We got high.

We had sex.

It was my good bye to him. I had made up my mind. After the sex, he had looked at me with so much expectancy on his face. It hurt to see that look. Not that much though. I had made up my mind.

“I love you, you know?” He had shouted.

I had kept quiet. Music so loud. I didn’t need his noise.

“You love me, right?” He had asked, still shouting.

Quiet again. That look. It hurt. Not that much though. So much hope,so much expectancy in that look. I got angry then.

Why should I love you, I thought?

Why can’t we just get high and have sex?

“No”, I said then.

His face fell and he turned over.

I didn’t say a word more.

I just picked up my jeans from the floor.
I still had my t-shirt on. I slipped into the jeans and left, the door closing with a thud on the music and him.

I had made up my mind. It was the last time. Stan had called before the party. From some call centre in Instabul. I miss him. I’m going there to meet him.

We gon’ see places together,do things together.

Bohemian style.

MELVIN

I lay there for a few hours. It could have being minutes though. I’m stoned outta my mind.
That’s for sure.

She doesn’t love me.
She doesn’t love me.
She had said no.
Suicide?

Certainly poetic and she’s worth it. My beautiful Muna. My love. No, not suicide. I’m just stoned. Snap outta it.

I turn over to her side of the bed. Her smell hits me in waves,the bed is still warm and wet from her sweat.

Oh, Muna.

I know there’s a razor here somewhere.

I go to the bathroom and run a bath.
I come out and see a few ounces of the white powder beside the bed.

One last high, maybe?

KELVIN

I’m walking down the hallway. The party was a blast. He had left early. One moment he was there,the next he wasn’t. I reach his door and stand there for a while.

Hope he is around. Hope he understands.

Hope.
Hope.

I knock once. Twice. Thrice.
Rap-rap-rap.
My knuckles pain me a bit.

Paul opens the door and smiles.

“I knew you would be back sometime.”

I just smile and walk in.

New Year Resolution

So I’m back here. I’m so lazy to blog nowadays and well, it’s saddening but I’m here today. Read on :

Immunology is one of the worst courses I’m offering this year. I don’t like the lecturer plus the woman gives a lot of notes. My books look worn out already. It’s actually the first time I’m attending her class this year. I usually just  get the notes and copy it.

“Good morning everyone. Happy New Year”

Everyone shouts “Same to you, ma” and there’s a little noise for about a minute and she shushes loudly and repeatedly till the class goes quiet.

“I am Prof(Dame) C.C Ifeala and for those who haven’t met me. I teach this course. I’m a mother, a grand mother, a great grand mother, a teacher, a help. Whatever. Name it”

“How were your holidays? Hope you all made resolutions?”

“RESOLUTION! RESOLUTION!”

The word re-echoed in my ears.

I suddenly remember the sermon from the priest in my church during the cross-over service on the 31st. Fr Babatunde didn’t forget to state that it was neccesary to make resolutions towards the new year. He dwelt on that so much.

“Make your resolutions for the year 2013 and pray to God to help you achieve them all. It is only neccessary that you make these goals so they lead you throughout the year”

Then he had the church warders with their gold sash distribute pens and a sheet of paper for those who had not written theirs and they were blessed before the altar.

Before the 31st, say 28th, I had logged in on Twitter, my little abode and as usual, tried to follow some of the conversations ka o dikwa ka a na-eme. There had been no fights, no slander, on my timeline. Like the festivity had brought out the good side of them all. Just as I was going to log out and become a little productive, I followed a conversation which was the beginning of my doubt.

@X : Do you think we shoul make new year resolutions? Give reasons.

@YZ : Yes we should.

And that person kept talking and giving reasons just as Fr. Babatunde would say.

@AB : No we shouldn’t.

@X : (to @AB) Why?

@AB : They limit our goals to a particular point and keep us fixed.

YES! Whoever was behind that handle ha a solid point to me. So I decided not to collect that paper from the church warder that day in church. Papa had stared pointedly at me.

“Why didn’t you collect the paper” he had asked, entirely in Igbo. A bad sign to be honest. He hardly spoke Igbo in public – denoting his anger.

“Come on will you pick that paper and write your resolution. Remember to add your prayer life too oh!”

I had collected the paper angrily and took the pen. See, my mind was made up. That handle on twitter was smart to me. I had bought its decision and was not going to say no to it. Now, we brought our papers to the altar. I wrote somethings grudginly for fear that Papa would collect and want to read. You cannot predict my father.  You just cannot.

Anyway, here we are in 2013 with resolutions and still giving room for more to come in. I shouldn’t have a limit. Part of the things I hope to achive this year is showing the real me. No pretence. Let’s say you won’t understand but I’ll try giving you a peek. Letting people know the real me and not what I try to show to the public. Also, I’m learning to do as my heart wishes and forget about what other people would do or say so far I have a clear conscience and I’m proud of whatever thing I’m doing.

The year is just a few days away and I have to mend broken relationships too. I miss some of my friends who I’ve quarreled with at one point. I have promised myself to enjoy every bit of it to the fullest; have fun, go out, see new places, meet new people.

Forget oh. This year has to make enough sense

“Eyys you! You on blue shirt”.

“Care to tell the class what we discussed in our last class.”

I look at myself. I’m on a blue shirt. The whole class is staring at me.

This is my first class remember?

TRIAL

Reblogged from JEREMY TARGERT'S CORNER:

They sacked RDM, I am sad. Pep better be on his way. The last post, this here is @Frankugo_ my brother from another mother. Enjoy

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I'm with You - Avril Lavigne

Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

Lost - Coldplay

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Esto puede o puede no haber pasado

I am not alone. We are about five in this dark room, myself being inclusive.

Read more… 1,369 more words

Part of my 2012 works. Do read

FerryTale - 2

Reblogged from DISCLAIMER: NOT HUMAN:

*Coughs* *Clears throat* *Coughs again* Today we have the 'Budding Writer/Columnist, Dancer/Choreographer, Twitter Activist, Foodie, Your Local Lawyer, Bush Igbo Boy, Real G' @FrankUgo_  (I'm sorry Frank, your bio was just too awesome) here to do a THS on Cinderella. Do read and share your comments.

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A CINDERELLA STORY.

  "Senior Amanda, Senior Amanda"

"You have an important message."

"Somebody just dropped a message."

Read more… 2,101 more words

Wrote this sometime last year. Read :)

His Story, I by @FrankUgo_

Reblogged from obafuntay:

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.

Read more… 1,467 more words

14 Fashionable Celebrities of 2012

Good day ladies and gentlemen

 

I am @FrankUgo_ and I’m here today with @mzephie to anchor the top 15 fashionistas of 2012. Basically, I know little or nothing about fashion but Ify here with me is a wonderful fashion person. That I’m sure of. I’m also pretty sure she has been monitoring the trends that has been going on. Also, our panel of judges have gotten the list passed to us. By the way, @mzephie blogs at http://www.style-closet.posterous.com

 

So in no particular order, we bring to you, the top 7 fashionable ladies.

1. Rita Dominic: At 37, multiple award winning actress and movie producer, Rita dominic looks nothing like her age. She won Most Stylish Actress of the year at the FAB Awards recently which is not surprising in any way.

2. Genevieve Nnaji: one of Nollywood’s finest actresses, mother, singer, model ,and spokeswoman, it is no surprise that she made the list. This award winning actress at 33 looks nothing like her age and is one stylish woman!

3. Eku Edewor: Co-presenter on M-NET’s new hit show, Studio 53 Extra, model,  host, and actress, Eku Edewor has earned her place amongst the Nigerian stylish and fashionable women. Whether on the red carpet of on the TV screen, we can all agree that she brings it!

4. Omotola Jalade Ekeinde: wife and mother of 4, ‘omosexy’ as she is popularly called by her fans is an actress, singer, reality TV star, and movie producer. Fashionable? Stylish? Couldn’t agree more

5. Agbani Darego: Former Miss Nigeria and Miss world 2001, Agbani darego is one fashionable lady. At 30, this model doesn’t look anything like her age. It is no wonder to see her amongst one of the stylish and fashionable women of 2012.

6. Tiwa Savage: Tiwa is a Nigerian singer-songwriter-entertainer. With multiple singles and an album on its way, this 32 year old songstress hardly misses it when it comes to looking good.

7. Beverly Naya: Upcoming Nigerian actress, Beverly Naya studied Film Making & Script Writing from Roehampton University United Kingdom. Although she has starred in about nine movies, she has won some awards and her career is still on the rise.

Okay, now for the top 7 fashionable men. We have

1. Praise Adejo – With a wonderful video which has been receiving massive airplay, Praise has been able to prove to us that you can get the ladies by looking simple.

 
 

 

2. Iyanya Mbuk  -With that body that ladies trip for, Iyanya has been on the list of fashionable male celebrities. His music career has also been fetching him the cash. We all know Kukere is a jam.
 

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3. Uti Nwachukwu – Actor, model and BBA winner is hot naturally and with his wonderful sense of fashion, it gives him a plus whenever he steps into an event.

 

4. Banky Wellington – Musician, producer and CEO EME always nails it to the point. He never goes wrong.

5. Ebuka Uchendu – Ebuka Obi-Uchendu is a Nigerian television personality from Anambra. He won the Big Brother at a point and is a lawyer.

 

6. Andre Blaze Henshaw – Andre is a TV personality, a writer, a fashionable individual  and has hosted some wonderful TV shows in Nigeria.

7. Chukkie Edozien – We all know him as Lynxx. Well, The musician is a hottie. His fashion sense is a plus for him too.

 

So which of this do you think is wrong or right? Or who do you think should be on the list? Tell us. Let us know.

 

2012 : A Review

Peace be with you all! It’s Franklin again. How have your holidays been? Hope they have been fine? YES!

 

So, it’s the last day of the year and we would like to thank everyone who have been here at one point or the other this year. To those who read our posts, Thank you! To those who help sharing. Thank you! Big ups to Lade and Fola. I love you two and to every writer who has graced this blog this year – Bobola, Chychy, Otas, Terdoh, Fanta, Teddy, Delaney, David, Nduka and others. Thank you! To out criticist and proof-readers, God bless you. Wishing you all the best in 2013.

 

Anyway, I have a friend and writer today. He is Yemi Johnson and he blogs at http://www.yemiswindow.wordpress.com  and he’s here to tell us how his 2012 went.

 

 

I have thought of many and different ways to start this but with each day came a different start and I have been particularly too lazy to put ink to paper. The only reason why I’m at this presently is because of a new year’s resolution to kick out laziness, and for the foreseeable future, I’m not quite there yet.

If I had written this on Christmas day, it would have been all gloomy and what not. It’s not because I don’t like Christmas, it’s simply because I was alone on that day and to top it up, I rammed my sister’s ride into the wall. That should pretty much explain how I felt. It wasn’t my car to start with and I was never given permission to drive it and if it were my ride, WTF would I find the money to fix it as I’m still a student without a sensible work experience or pay. Don’t judge me.

 

If I had written this post on any other day starting from the 20^th of December (the day Frank asked me to write it) the post would have been a bit of a blur with capricious points of high and low moments. There were days I was excited and days that whizzed by like grass in the monsoon winds.

 

If I was going to write this post basically on how I feel today, the 30^th of December, you can be sure as deodorant that I would express my disappointment in not going for #TNC 5 for the fifth consecutive time and also write with a lot of anticipation of the incoming year on the grounds that the reverend made me believe and hope in a better 2013. Now don’t go stalking my twitter timeline for Christian tweets, you won’t find any.

But No! I would try and be non-biased to the year 2012 and the obstacles and opportunities it threw in my way, but first, the joke of the year.

EVERYBODY KEEPS SAYING 2013 WILL BE A GOOD YEAR. I ONLY HAVE ONE QUESTION…… IS IT A TIRE?

Since the millennium started, no other year has been exciting as 2012. Now, my life is not one of deep excitement, it actually takes a lot to get me off the ground and I constantly seek for excitement, problem is: I’m limited. We are not here to talk of my limitations, just the year in review.

 

The first quarter of the year started with exams and I have never impressed myself more than I did that year. For the first time in my 4 out of 5 years in school, I had a first class GP. I was ecstatic, but contained the feeling. One thing I learnt about success right from my secondary school days was that success is a bad teacher, it deceives people into thinking they can’t fail and with that in mind, I went into the second quarter of the year.

 

Now, this was a time of my life. I became more sociable, I was more recognized and approached, got inebriated as never before, said stupid things and got hated and still wouldn’t give a fuck, broke as many rules as I could, got wilder and more frequently judged, made a movie production where I was the star of the show but the judges only loved my death scene and hated the rest of the show and I blame the director who I’m currently involved, she’s not ‘it’ exactly but we will make it work. Regardless of all these, I still managed to ace my exams and tests in the third quarter of the year and I had hopes for my summer vacation.

I was basically isolated in the year’s third quarter and I skyped like no other time; I continually drained 8.5 gig of data connection in less than a week on a girl that’s locked me in too deep in the friend zone. Twitter became my opium. I was in a foreign place looking after my nephews; I love those boys so I couldn’t complain. They make me mad but I love them all the same and I would definitely take bullets for them. Asides that, I have always hated sentiments and each time I get congratulated on a literary work, I wonder why? So I applied for a writers training hosted by a favorite author- Chimamanda Adichie, unfortunately I got no reply and I felt my writing sucked. I eventually got over it and continued writing. I also got acquainted with the practices in Ghana; I ate wakye for the first time, I learnt Ghanaians are not as black as the people on my TL made me believe and their currency is worth less to the dollar than the Nigerian naira. There were a host of other things I learnt and to be quite honest, I enjoyed my stay there despite the isolation. I did quite a number of fun things that I haven’t done in my home land.

And on to the last quarter of the year which I most vividly remember. The months preceding December were a bit of a blur, nothing spectacular happened. And December, although filled with activities, it has been no sunshine either or maybe it’s just because I expected more. In all truthfulness, a lot of good things have happened this last month of 2012 but each happening opened a void in me: a realization of the future and so far, what I see is not compelling. Maybe I’m over thinking it but the reckless abandon of my teenage years will fade as the year passes and I don’t want to get old and boring.

But that was 2012 and a new year is on the dawn, it’s time to brace myself for the highs and lows of 2013, set my priorities straight, and keep to my resolutions. I don’t know what you call 2013 but with each new year that comes I expect better and so I dub the year 2013, my year of awesomely better tomorrows.

Happy New Year and may the best of 2013 be willed unto you.

STAY SAFE, STAY SCHEMING.

P:S – A BIG THANK YOU TO THE TWITTER & BLOGGERS COMMUNITY, FOR SOME REASON, YOU STRANGERS MADE ME LAUGH AND SMILE MORE.

 

And from all of us here, It’s Happy New Year. Ensure you don’t drink so much and Get that kiss by midnight.

21st December

Hello guys. We were thinking this post wouldn’t come up considering its the 21st and all that but wohoo! Here it is. Read on. Its the last of the trilogy. Happy December the 21st.

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“Father please, Father please.”

“You can’t just send us to the antichrist like that.”

“E no good oh Padre.”

“Father, remember the money we paid during the harvest.”

“You no fit just leave us.”

“This isn’t what Jesus would do.”

 
These were the parishioners of St Kelvin’s Catholic church, Ughelli who were standing outside the hot sun waiting for Fr Ignatius to come out. St Kelvin’s was a small parish in the archdiocese. They were so lucky to have a resident priest. They were about 50 in number – male and female alike screaming in loud voices. You won’t blame Fr Ignatius would you? He held the mass at 6:30am. The mass finished at 7:15am. Since then, he had been listening to horrible sins of people sitting in a chair which wasn’t even really comfortable. It was 10:30am now. It takes about 5 minutes for an individual to be at the confessional. You be the judge now kind sir or ma, as the case may be.

 
Fr Ignatius was tired. He had pleaded with the parishioners to go home and return tomorrow. He delayed the Advent confession which was supposed to end on the 21st and moved it to the 22nd but they kept on screaming this time in louder voices.
 

“Why are they screaming?” he asked one of the altar boys in his house.
 

“Rumor has it the Mayan calendar ends today…“

 
“Oh!” Fr Ignatius smiled. “Too much science. That’s the problem with this generation…..”

 
The altar boy quickly pretended something was burning inside the kitchen and then he went away. You had to avoid Fr Ignatius when he was speaking; He spoke for hours on end and he never got tired.
 

The parishioners had reduced the pitch of their voices. Some had started leaving. The Ughelli women especially who wouldn’t miss their sales at the market. It was Christmas period. Ughelli people who were away were coming in and there was a lot of profit to be made. A bag of rice that normally goes for 5,000 was now sold at 8,000 now. That’s over 50 per-cent gain.
 
 

Our little friend Akpos is still in bed at noon enjoying the spaced comfortable bed just the way it had been always. Today, there’s a plate of food and fresh orange juice in his jug. And on his right, a pair of jeans and a designer shirt with nice black shoes. He looks at the clock. He has barely 30 minutes to meet the rest of the crew.
 

He runs downstairs after his bath. He’s looking good now, smells nice. Usman is sitting in the living room this time with three men – who look bigger than he is. They are talking very quietly. Finally, they hand over a bag to him. He’s a little pensive . He picks the bag and there’s this zeal in him. He goes up to eat after the briefing till sometime around 5pm when he has to carry out his mission.

 
They drop him off at St Kelvin’s. One would think he came to join the batch for the evening confession. But no. He goes in calmly and well composed to the church. He doesn’t know whatever is going on. He’s just here to do what he wants to do and walk out or more like run out. The church bell rings. It’s time for mass. Fr Ignatius leaves the confessional and heads to the sacristy to prepare for the mass while the other parishioners go inside the church.
 

The clock ticks fast. Minutes pass, seconds walk and it’s almost like normal. The mass goes on like every normal day, only that its going to get a bit more tense today. Akpos is waiting for the time he was instructed to act up.

 
The congregation is done receiving communion and just as the mass is about to end, Akpos carries his bag which is a bit heavy and walks to the front of the church. People were a bit afraid. Even Fr Ignatius wasn’t left out.

 
“Father I want you to pray for my business. I want you to bless me. Bless me father.“
 
Uh-oh.
 
Fr Ignatius who is still scared stretched forth his hands and prayed for him and Akpos stood up and left the church.
 
He had a flight to the UK by 7. The owner of the bag of cocaine was awaiting him.

20th December

Hello guys! 2nd round of the trilogy here. Just incase you didn’t read the first, I think you should. It’ll help you understand this perfectly. Read on.

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Comfortable bed. Fluffy pillows. White sheet. Akpos woke up to comfort. He had never witnessed such in his entire life. He had never had a bed to himself to start with, talk more of a room with such luxuries.

“I see you’re awake now. Good Morning “a man clad in white said.

Akpos couldn’t talk. Is this heaven? Judgement maybe? Is this Jesus? This wasn’t the way they thought them in Sunday school.

“Yes sir. Good Morning ” Akpos replied.

“Abeg oga. Where I dey? ” He added.

He was still reeking of alcohol and looking all tattered. He had stained the bed and tried covering it with his body for the man in white not to see.

“My name is Abdul Usman. I work here in Ughelli. Apparently, you were drunk yesterday and I took you to my house“

Akpos had a flashback. He could only remember collecting the cup – Nothing else. He was much calm now, knowing he could have been left there in the bar.

Forgetting about the stain on the bed, he stood up and moved touching some of the golden attractive objects.

“So this is your house sir?” He said.

“Yes.” Usman replied.

“Bros, how do you take do am?” he asked again.

“Why don’t you take your bath and freshen up and we’ll talk okay?” Usman replied.

He nodded his head in agreement.

Few minutes later, one of the maids brought Akpos to the study where Usman was waiting for him.

Akpos was looking refined this time around. He had never been like this. The cloth he wore was fitting unlike the over-sized ones he had. He had eaten to his fill already and here he was alone in the study room with Usman.

“Sit down” Usman said.

“Do you like what you see around here?” He added.

“Yes sir. Oghene o! Who see beta thing and no like am. The tin be dey sweet me for body tete“

“They can be yours and much more.” Usman added.

“Wait. You fit give me saa?“

“There’s a deal I want you to go into. It’s all about the heart and the spirit to do such. Can you do it?“

“Oga, I don enter poverty too much. Anything you tell me, I fit do am right now. I don’t even care“

Usman got up and whispered into his ears. The big smile on his face disappeared a little. He stood up and went back to the room where they had kept him.

Hours passed, Minutes walked by and seconds ticked away. There he was; still pondering.

19th December

INTRODUCTION

Hey guys, what’s good? Happy to be back here again. At least, write before the world comes to an end. This post is the first of a kind of trilogy. Yes. A trilogy, with the other two posts coming up sometime between tomorrow and next. We hope you like it. Read on

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He looked at his phone a second time. Still no reply at all. He had waited for this for so long but still, there was no light at the end of this tunnel. The Nokia device he held in his hands was screaming for help seeing how bad it was looking. The keypad had been removed and the phone had scratches all over. At 22 years of age, this was not where he hoped for six years back. He dreamt of being a doctor – owning a hospital, having a comfortable air-conditioned office, a fat salary and of course, beautiful nurses to scope for the pain. But here we was, located somewhere around Ughelli in a shop that wasn’t even his.

Yes. He was in Pa Rukevwe’s shop. Pa Rukevwe was a mechanic. He had trained renowned mechanics who worked in big companies now. Most of them dropped by once in a year to show their gratitude. They brought large bags of rice, fat tubers of yam amongst others. Akpos had asked Pa Rukevwe to be his tutor some months back just after he was released from prison for a crime he was innocent of.

Akpos looked at himself from head to toe and sighed. Tears fell from his face which was filled with sweat. He had grease on his already dirty work-cloth and oil from the Owo soup he bought from one local vendor. He had other stains located on his cloth from places he couldn’t even remember. Anyway, his pensive mood was going to change after the sound from the 2go application which alerted him that there was a message. He looked down. His face beaming with smiles only to see a message from the wrongest person, Osas. It read in blocks :

“GUY, WHERE MY MONEY DEY? I DEY ENTER TOWN ASAP. DEY PACKAGE MY DOUGH ABEG“

Confused as he was before now, he ended the chat and attempted to check the state of Tega’s messages. She had gone offline. The ‘Hey Baby’ he sent was left unattended too. He had prepared a lot of punchlines to drop – those ones that normally set a woman’s heart on fire. Now, Tega was offline. Osas was demanding. He was going to drop these punchlines either ways for Tega. She would see it whenever she logged in. Then, the application started reconnecting.

“Chei! The devil na liar oh” he exclaimed.

He waited patiently for minutes. Minutes turned to more minutes and still, the application refused to connect.

What was the problem?

Service? Yes. No service inside the workshop. He went under the shade outside but it was still the same. Then, he climbed the roof of the workshop, with the aid of a wooden ladder lying helplessly around. Pa Rukevwe, who was a bit surprised at such behavior called on him.

“Akpos. Akpos“

Akpos recognized the voice. He was going down to respond when he realised he had forgotten these punchlines. He quickly closed the application and ran to meet Pa Rukevwe who was sitting under the shade in the workshop.

Pa Rukevwe touched his body with the back of his right hand.

“Akpos, you sure say you well?”

“Oga, I well.” Akpos said with his Owo-flavored mouth

“E be like say you no well. Your body hot small“

“Go house rest small” Pa Rukevwe added.

Another reason to smile. Akpos put on his clothes after taking a bath hurriedly. He had not made any money today so it wasn’t completely fine but, he had the full day. He brought out his phone to call Tega (Definitely, man must not live by ‘bread’ alone) only to disccover he had no airtime.

“No wonder the 2go no dey open that time.” He said.

He had no money to spare. He was disturbed.

“Make I go Tega house?”
“No,” he replied.

He never forgot the race last 2 months. A race of life and death. From Tega’s house to the bush where he hid. He was breathing for air when he stopped at the bush to hide. He thought he was dead.

He had made up his mind- to go home and sleep well and let that brain in his big skull do some work. There was a noise from his pocket. It was his phone.

‘ E dey pain me o. Gaga. Baba e to ma ye, Gaga. E dey pain me welli welli o, Gaga. Ye. Gaga’.

Poor ring tone you might term it. That was a description of how he was. It was his brother, Ogaga on the phone.

“Ogags, how far?” He said.
“Bros, I dey well. Food no dey house. Garri don finish. No show for business today. I don tire. Where you dey?“

“Workshop.” He lied. E bin get plenty motor wey dem bring come. All these Igbo pipu wey wan travel. E be like say na night…“

Ogaga cut the phone angrily. Akpos wasn’t even coming home soon. He ended up sending himself to bed which worked out perfectly fine for him I think.

Akpos walked to a bar located somewhere at Waterman bus-stop where the big boys came to drink. Usually, some of them sponsored the drinks. Akpos wished today would be like that. Free cups of pami, as he desired. That was all he wanted. He could resist the well garnished chicken and gizzard.

Entering the bar looking sad and pitiful, he sat alone waiting for the freebies. As God would have it, someone who had got a new contract got into the bar.

“Drinks for the boys” he shouted.

Akpos face lit with a smile. He drank. Drank. Drank. Drank. Drank. To stupor.

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