Archive | October 2012

Junkyard Ramblings

So I’m awake and was in a mood for most of the day. Wrote this to lift my mood and hope it makes someone else laugh a lil too. Enjoy


Obi waved animatedly as he spoke. He was in a heated discussion with two of his friends. They were just returning from the viewing center where they had just watched Chelsea beat Arsenal two goals to one. The game had been one all until a few minutes into extra time when Chelsea was awarded a penalty. Obi was an Arsenal fan while Jamiu, his short friend was a blue, a Chelsea fan. The third, Rukevwe was a football lover who used to be a Liverpool fan but two seasons ago, said he was no longer supporting any club and just wanted to enjoy the game. “Na una be mafia, you this Chelsea. Una no fit win one game clean like this, you must do ojoro with referee,” Obi was shouting. Rukevwe went reeling with laughter as he said “Obi, suffry o, see the vein for your neck as he commot, he go burst o”. Obi turned to him “shutup there, football divorcee. You don leave your club, as no club go accept you as fan, you no get club again, dey form football lover”. “Dem accept you? Dem even know say you dey breath for Arsenal? Abi dem go share money come your side? Free me jor” Rukevwe responded as he laughed harder, joined by Jamiu, which further annoyed Obi. Obi turned away from Rukevwe and faced Jamiu “at least if I go follow person argue, I go follow true fan argue. Jamiu, talk true, una suppose win that ball? You sef know say na ojoro, na why you no talk.” Jamiu responded “see this man o. so shay if na una dem give penarity, una for no play am abi? Win na win abeg, and Arsenal just no sabi win. We go soon come borrow una trophy cabinet, as una no dey use am.” Him and Rukevwe laughed again, holding their tummies while Obi watched fuming.

The shrill sound of the ringing of a mobile phone interrupted their laughter. Rukevwe dove into his pocket and brought out a shiny silver phone. When it emerged from his pocket, the sound was so loud it was distorted. Before he could pick the call, it ended. “Flasher!” he hissed, retrieving the call record to ascertain who it was. The other two laughed a little as Obi peered into the phone with him. “Na Justina. No be you give am number, why you dey complain onto flashing. No worry, Airtel don do too good for una, just dey talk dey go.” Now it was Rukevwe’s turn to glare at Obi who was having fun teasing him. “When you buy new phone sef?” he queried. “You sure say the phone new?” asked Jamiu, stretching his hand to take the phone from Rukevwe “make I see”. Rukevwe slapped his hand away “gerrout, I no give you. Anything wey you like talk. This phone na state of the art o. FM dey, torchlight dey. The music loud sotey u fit use am do party. You even fit carry am surf the internet.” He held it up like some high tech wonder. “See wetin dem write on top am”, squealed Jamiu, trying hard to contain his laughter. Obi succeeded in snatching the phone from Rukevwe. Ewo, chimo. Na Nonkia dem write. Which one be Nonkia again o. All these una Chinko phones. Oghenerukevwe has killed somebody”. Jamiu literarily burst into laughter, holding his sides as he bent over. “Nonkia”, he kept repeating at intervals as he laughed.

Rukevwe groped in his mind for something to come back at them. He found the answer in in Obi’s t-shirt. He was wearing the Arsenal jersey he always wore on days they were having a match. He spoke in a patronizing tone, laughter all over his voice, putting his arms around Obi “I like this your jersey o. wetin dem write on top again” Jamiu looked at it and burst out laughing “Flying Eminrates.” He fell sitting on some scrap, unable to stand from laughing so much. Obi retorted “at least my own jersey new. You wey you dey wear original wey dem don patch finish nko?” He put his hand through a hole in Rukevwe’s shirt saying in a sing song voice “post office”.

The phone rang again, this time it was in Obi’s hand and he picked it before it cut off. The flasher, Justina didn’t know that he had picked and what she was saying came through loud and clear for all three to hear. “This my maga no wan call back, I no know wetin dey do am,” she was saying to someone. The person responded “dey disturb am with flash, he go call. Wetin he wan chop for your body no go gree am rest, so he must call back.” Obi put the speaker on so they could hear better. “Make he come carry us go chop nkwobi jare. Hunger dey catch me.” Then the line went silent briefly. They thought she had run out of credit or ended the call when they heard and exclamation from her friend “Justina o, he don hear everything, he pick your flash and you no know” “Ha!” Justina said, then into the mouth piece she stuttered timidly “Hello, He… He… Hello”. The three of them crowded around the phone and shouted “Hello!” “Your father!” exclaimed Rukevwe, “na me be maga”. She responded,  “No be as you think am, na just yarn…” “Sharrap there”, Jamiu shouted. “We go treat your fuck up”, Obi joined in. “Rukevwe, you no even talk, see as your friends dey curse me.” “Oghene mo,” Rukevwe responded, “this girl still get mouth o. that juju wey dem give you no work en, odeshi dey here.” She paused for a bit, and then said “Oya, no vex my sugar sugar. Make I still come? We go chop peppersoup and then I go give you something else chop.” All the guys collectively responded “Your father!” Then her credit finished and the call disconnected.

ff @tundeleye


Tricia’s Nightmare – Episode 5

I’d like to thank you all for coming to the  Lagos Golden Sands book signing/launch, tweeting about it and supporting it in various ways. We did it! I appreciate you guys much and it was great meeting so many people in person finally after twitter, fb and bb convos. The pictures would come soon, plus there’s a video too.

Enjoy today’s Tricia’s Nightmare

Tricia lay on the floor, alone in her cell. She had often heard hilarious stories of cellmates maltreating newcomers but this had not been the case. She was alone in her cell and the darkness was driving her crazy. But even more, she had not heard anything from her family. She was certain that her mum must have heard by now and should have come here to see her. She waited and waited, and every sound of an approach to her cell made her jump in anticipation, only to be deflated in disappointment. Because of this, she did not sit up when her cell was approached until its door opened. A very light skinned man she had never seen before stooped over her and told her they would be leaving. She was hustled to a van and cleaned up enroute their journey. The whole drama in court was like a blur to her and in the daze, all she heard was the judge saying she should be held until the case was brought before a competent court. Again, she was hustled into the van and taken to the bigger police station at Ojuelegba. She was led to a small office by the fair man and seated behind the desk was a man who looked at her through hooded eyes like she was some kind of vermin who should be exterminated. He spoke with an air of disdain.

“I am Olu Williams, and I will be investigating and prosecuting your case. I will be frank with you. You will be tried for the dastardly act of cold blooded murder you committed. Some people will come to you to try and convince you to complicate this case by talking about some rape matter. You will be wise not to listen to them.”

“But he raped me and I didn’t kill him,” Tricia interrupted. Dudu stepped forward and scowled menacingly and she cowered but Olu held his hand up and he stepped back. “Look young woman, I am trying to help you here. If you keep saying such things, I will be forced to ask for the maximum punishment in a murder case. You will hang. But if you are a good girl and make this and easy case, there will be leniency in your sentencing.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something but Olu signaled Dudu and this time, he moved forward and yanked her to her feet by her left hand. Pain shot into her brain at the suddenness and force of the action. “That will be all, Miss Abah. You will be escorted to your cell now. I do have to prepare your case as soon as possible.”


AIG Saranja looked out of the window in his office. He hated the police force. The buffoon who was now IG had no business being superior to the likes of him. He had been passed over twice now on the IG appointment. The first time was almost understandable. The man who had been appointed then was politically crucial to the balance of power to the then Yoruba president. He had needed an Easterner at the helm of the police and army to balance off the power of some political elites in the North. It didn’t make it less painful though. But then, the sitting IG now was another matter. There was no logical explanation, whether geopolitical politics, seniority, clout and whatever else you wanted to consider as to why this clown should be his boss. And as is typical of such things, once he was IG, the guy had effectively cut off every income source he had. He was living on the goodwill of some senators now, but that wasn’t living. This Tricia’s case had dropped the answer into his laps. That boy Olu had a great track record of convictions and he had personally asked that the boy be put on the case. No one had protested as it seemed irrelevant to them. But they didn’t know what he knew and hadn’t been made the offer he had been made. The boy had better perform.


Two men landed in Lagos that day, with different interests in Tricia’s case. The first was Teju Bello, forensic investigator, tasked with locating some evidence of foul play that would invalidate the claims to millions of pounds that Bruno’s widow now made. The insurance man, Peter had simply on instinct sensed foul play and Teju thought he was right.

The other man was Maro Dickson. Something just wasn’t right. The Tricia he knew was no killer. After the initial shock after reading that story, he had sat down to think about the story well and had been unsettled enough to take some days off work and come to Lagos. He wanted to see Tricia himself and interview her. He would know if she was lying. He would be meeting her aunt in Ikeja shortly. He gripped his luggage and called one of the airport Taxis


Kofo had been in the back of Okafor’s magistrate court and had watched the charade that resulted in Olu being able to legally hold Tricia indefinitely now. She was now beyond convinced that Olu was going to go through with getting this girl convicted for murder without taking the rape into cognizance. She was back in her office now and powered up her laptop. She logged into her email and downloaded the pictures she had emailed herself from Tricia’s blackberry before handing it over to Olu. He had forgotten the power of technology. It was not like the old days when evidence could so easily be destroyed

She then penned a memo, indicating the necessity of doing getting a doctor’s opinion on whether Tricia was raped the morning she was arrested as the door had been broken down and the lady had reported that the victim had raped her in the wee hours of that morning, and since it was a report of rape that had brought the police to the scene, she believed the doctor’s opinion routine. She sent the memo to Olu’s office and copied the IG and sent another copy to the Ministry of Police Affairs. She would see justice done for Tricia. Then she called Maro


Maro had been enroute Ivie’s when the call came into his phone. He picked up the call and a voice that was evidently female but still lower pitched than most female voices he had heard said “Hello”, to him.

“Hello, may I know who is speaking?”

“My name is Kofo, and I believe that I’m speaking with Maro Dickson.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, wondering if this was one of those 419 callers, “how may I help you?”

“I was the first officer at the site of your friend, Tricia Abah’s residence when she called for rape.”

“Rape? I thought she was being held for murder?” Maro was confused.

“There was a murder, and she might have been the murderer, but there was also a rape, and she was the victim and the perpetrator of that rape is the one for whose murder she is being tried now.”

Maro whistled. He had been right, there was more to this than that blogger had reported. The report had conveniently left out the rape angle and had painted Tricia as a vengeful lover. Kofo was still speaking “she needs a good lawyer, can you get her one? I know the lawyer prosecuting her well, and he will extract the maximum penalty if we cannot get a lawyer that will puncture his case. And let me tell you, he is very good.”

Maro thought for a second. “I just got into Lagos now and will be meeting her aunt here in Ikeja. Where can we meet in like two hours?”

“Where in Ikeja are you meeting her aunt? I’ll join you.”

“Fantastic. I will text the location to you.”

She hung up and he extracted Ivie’s text and description of The Place on Isaac John Street and sent it to Kofo’s number after saving the number.


Olu was livid. That foolish Kofo had set him up. Now he had to get that doctor’s report and he didn’t want to take any chances. Good thing was, the girl was still using a state appointed attorney, so he could easily arm twist him into using a doctor of his choice. And he would ensure that the doctor gave only the report he wanted.

Oloye was by now very worried. His wife hadn’t called and she was supposed to have gotten to Lagos since yesterday but he hadn’t heard anything from her since she left him. He had tried to call her severally but her number wasn’t going through. And he didn’t have that nonsense Ivie’s phone number. He was on his way to the park now to inquire if the driver had returned from Lagos. When he got there, there was an unusual crowd. He approached one of the drivers and asked about the station wagon. Once he described the vehicle, the driver’s eyes went to the ground and he shook his head. Oloye grabbed the man’s shoulders and asked “what is the problem? En, what?”

The driver answered in pidgin “Oga, that station wagon get accident for road yesterday. Wetin I hear be say nobody for the motor survive am”

Oloye’s hands dropped from the man’s shoulders and his eyes became clouded. With a head hanging down in remorse, he began to go to the police station. Suddenly, the weight of his foolishness dawned on him. He could have paid for air travel, but rather put his wife in a car and now she was gone. He could have given his daughter the money for an apartment in Lagos, but he didn’t. Now she was in police custody for murder. He was a fool, an old fool.

Flora – 12th Petal – FOCUSED DESIGN

There’s 3 pieces of important info this morning.

  1. If you live in US, UK, Continental Europe and Asia, you can get hardcopies of Golden Sands here. They deliver at your doorstep for a minimal fee.
  2. If you want an e-copy of the book, you can buy directly from Amazon here

Enjoy today’s Flora post

There are about 250,000 species of flowers on earth. None of these individual species are the same. Each one has a design that is unique to that species. Most flowers are designed for their pollinators. Wind pollinated flowers are light and dusty. A certain flower pollinated by the humming bird is designed such that that bird alone can reach its nectar. This flower is red, since birds are attracted to the color red. Every flower is designed to attract some specific pollinator.


In life, when we venture into anything, whether on a business or personal level, from creating a new product to getting a marriage partner, the most important thing is not trying to convince the other party to bend to you. Rather, you need to spend time studying your target audience, person or market. You then use the knowledge you gain to package yourself or whatever you want to offer in such a way that it will resonate with your target point blank. It’s called focused design. Don’t dissipate energy trying to do everything and be everything. Focus on being the best in a certain area. In other words, own that attribute. Nothing will bring you greater satisfaction in life than doing that which you do well enough to be the best and enjoying every moment of the doing.

ff @tundeleye

Golden Sands – The Book Reading/Signing

Its ya boy TL #inChigurlVoice. Please come out on Sunday the 28th of October, 3pm to the beautiful La Mango and meet the author of all the stories you have enjoyed on this blog. You’ll be able to ask anything you want to know about him and his writing (how do you know women enough to write Oyin Clegg e.g)

Dipo The Voice (Of Be Your Man fame) will be performing there

Signed copies of the book, Golden Sands will also be available for sale. Nothing beats buying a bestseller before it becomes one. Collectors item things.

I’ll also be giving stuff out at the event for the 1st in. So come on time 🙂

See you on Sunday


ff on twitter @tundeleye

Tricia’s Nightmare – Episode 4

Hear ye, hear ye (and tell a friend) I’ll be launching my debut novel, Golden Sands this Sunday, 28th of October in La Mango Restaurant, 2 Adekunle Fajuyi Street, G.R.A, Ikeja. Time is 3pm. Book reviewer is publisher Seun Salami @seunwrites. There’ll be book signed by me on sale that day, plus music from Dipo of “Im Oladipupo, I can be your man” fame. And food there is absolutely amazing. You do not wanna miss it otherwise, I’ll order your LASTMA uniform fresh from the factiory

I’m sure you’ve enjoyed Oyin Clegg’s Finding Hubby as you are now enjoying Tricia’s Nightmare. I’ll be glad if you came out on that day and support cest moi. I’ll be giving away a N15,000 pack of dead sea beauty products (absolutely fantastic stuff) courtesy Oakleaf Pharmacy.

Click on the image on the sidebar or here and like their FB page, they’ve got great stuff.

Enjoy today’s Tricia’s Nightmare and see ya on Sunday

Kofo was troubled as she stood at the door of the Surulere flat for the second time that day. The statement she had read was as good as passing verdict of guilty on Tricia. She knew the girl hadn’t written the statement and had probably signed under duress. She had then decided to go back to the house and look around again. Already, the knife had been taken in as an exhibit. No finger print technology, so there was no hope of identifying anyone with that. If the girl was charged for murder, then she would be convicted in all likelihood. She had to get evidence of rape actually happening that night and get her lawyer to reduce the charges to manslaughter.


Mrs. Aisha Ujah sat in the insurer’s office with her lawyer. She had assumed that things would go seamlessly with the claims but there had been a hitch. She had submitted a scanned death certificate and the Peekay Insurers required her to submit an original in her claims. The blonde account manager was saying “Mrs. Ujah, we are so sorry for Mr. Bruno’s loss. He was a dear client. However, if you peruse the terms of the insurance contract,” he handed over a copy of Bruno’s life insurance policy to her and another to her lawyer, both with green highlighter marks and continued “you will see that for claims exceeding two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, we are required by policy to carry out due diligence before settling the claims. Mr. Bruno’s assured sum is two point seven five million pounds and falls into that category.”

Her lawyer looked defeated. It was indeed clearly stated. “So Mr. Clarke, the policy says you have ninety days to ascertain and either settle the claim or refute it, right?”

“I’m afraid so,” he responded, running his hand through his thick hair.

“Well,” Aisha said, “I guess we will wait then.” She stood up and the lawyer shot up with her. “Thanks for your time Peter,” she said as she shook him and then turned to leave. Almost as soon as they left, he called Teju “When are you leaving?”

“Peter…” Teju responded, rolling his eyes “I thought you English were the epitome of courtesy”.

“Oh please. She just left here with her lawyer. I’ve bought us sixty days.”

Teju knew Peter was lying about the number of days, but he chose to let it pass. “I’m in luck, since I’m Nigerian, I can fly into Nigeria without visa requirements. I’m off tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” Peter mumbled and he cut the call off.


“He expected that you would for your accommodation in kind, Tricia. Bruno is an ex, and I didn’t assume he was serious about it at the time he mentioned it.” Ivie tried to reach out and hold Tricia’s hands as she spoke, but Tricia recoiled from her touch.

“So you knew he would try to sleep with me, yet you asked me to go and live with him?” Tricia asked, her eyes holding embers of hate.

“I didn’t know he was going to do anything,” Ivie answered, “and if he had asked, couldn’t you have managed him better?”

“What the hell are you saying Ivie?” It was Taju. “Managed him exactly how?”

“Look, Taju,” she said, turning to face him squarely “you people are being holier than thou. The Maro boy that she’s dating that couldn’t get his wife to be a proper apartment, is she not shagging him for free? So, how come she cannot give Bruno, who was housing her for free some once in a while that he asked?”

Taju slammed his hand on the table “Ivie are you mad? Are you listening to yourself?”

Tricia stood up and walked to the officer “Take me back to the cell, and tell the DPO I don’t want to see this woman ever again.”

“Eduvie, family is supreme. I’m only trying to help you here, as I was trying to help you when you had nowhere to stay in Lagos, and this is the way you insult me?” Ivie said. Tricia did not even glance back as she was led back to her cell.


Enroute Lagos that day, the station wagon driver hadn’t slept since the previous night. None of the passengers knew he had dozed at the wheels, even with his eyes wide open – until he was heading straight for an oncoming trailer. When their shouts startled him awake, he swerved the wrong way. He ran headlong into the trailer. None of the passengers survived the crash.


Kofo saw the phone lying on the bed. She wondered how her colleagues who had come to collect evidence from the house could have missed a mobile phone. She first checked the  last calls made and received on the phone. her mum, her aunt Ivie and a Maro. She made a note to call Maro. The she checked the text messages. She read the panicky messages to her mum and the same Ivie again. “Well,” she mumbled “that establishes that there was a threat to her life from Bruno and the probable time of rape.” She looked around some more and found a cotton bud sealed in a drug polythene container. It seemed to have some gooey substance at its top. She picked that up too. Then she checked the files on the phone. “Smart girl!” she exclaimed, as she saw the pictures of herself and the door that Tricia had taken to record the rape. She put the phone and the cotton bud in a brown paper bag and left the house. As soon as she was seated in her car, she called Adams. He picked up on the second ring and answered in the stiff way he normally spoke to her “Hello ma,” he said on the other end of the line. She didn’t mind the stiffness; better stiff than unnecessarily chummy. “Have you found out who was assigned to her case?” she asked him. “Yes, I have,” he responded and there was dead air for a split second when she waited for him to tell her who it was and he waited for her to ask. She broke the silence “Adams, you can tell me who it is now,” she said, the satire dripping all over her words. “It’s Olu Williams”.

“Damn!” she said before she could catch herself. “Okay Adams, thanks,” she said as she recovered and rounded the call off. She wanted to ensure the girl got justice. But if it was difficult before, it had become near impossible now that her arch-nemesis was assigned to the case.


Olu Williams saw this as a straightforward case and he intended for it to be treated as such. He had a record of having convictions in all cases but one under his belt and he wasn’t about to let that number after the but rise to two. And in all honesty, the case was a piece of cake. He had trained as a lawyer, and though in the force, for criminal cases assigned to him, he chose to be both investigating officer and lawyer. The only case he had lost had been when he had allowed one of those lawyers from the ministry take the case. He had muddled it up and lost an otherwise water tight case and made a mess of the job he had done investigating the case. He called his immediate assistant, Yemi ‘Dudu’ Job. Dudu wasn’t the most intelligent man, but he obeyed orders meticulously and he was loyal, a priceless thing in this force filled with overambitious fresh faces. “Arrange for the accused to be arraigned before Okafor at Yaba. She knows the drill and it will give us legal ground to hold her for as long as the investigation requires, which shouldn’t be very long.” “Right away sir,” Dudu answered and swung into action immediately. Olu knew he couldn’t hold the young lady legally for longer than forty-eight hours without arraigning her, otherwise he would be compelled to release her. He cursed whoever wrote that law silently, but this was Nigeria, and where there was a will, they could find a legal way to achieve their aim. They had an arrangement with Magistrate Okafor of the Yaba Magistrate court. Even though they knew that the court was without jurisdiction to try murder, they would still arraign suspected murderers there. They would get a no jurisdiction verdict but critically would have arraigned them, so they could now hold them for longer. The thought crossed his mind that it was legal illegality, but he killed the thought. He did what he had to do to rid the street of criminals, he was the good guy. Plus he remembered that call from AIG Saranja in Abuja. He had to deliver a murder conviction in this case, the AIG had said, and then they would look at his transfer to the presidency. He cracked his knuckles; he absolutely had to deliver.

The officers jumped to attention as Kofo entered the waiting area in front of Olu’s office. If there was a personification of her troubles in the force before she got SRDV created, it was this man. But now, to help Tricia, she had to convince him to set aside their differences and arraign her for manslaughter rather than murder. She waited while his henchman (that’s the mental picture she got when she looks at the guy), ironically called Dudu even though he was almost as light-skinned as an albino, went in to inform him that she was waiting to see him. moments later, she entered the small office. A fading map of Nigeria hung on the wall, alongside different trophies that showed that Olu was an accomplished tennis player. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked quizzically. She smiled, unready to play his sparring game

“Olu, there’s a case you are handling that I have an interest in. The Tricia case”

“Hmmm,” he said, hand on chin. “Do I recall any such case now?”

“Olu, cut it out. I know you do. I’ve been told you are planning to arraign her at Okafor’s tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he responded, sitting forward. “So I know her. I’m doing standard stuff we do for murder cases. And don’t give me that lecture on the legality of using a magistrate court to hold her. We all do it in the force.”

Kofo wondered how to phrase what she was going to ask “I don’t think she should be tried for murder,” she finally blurted out

“Oh really? And what should we try her for then, please Madam Kofo?”

Kofo counted one to five to calm herself down and ignored his barb “Manslaughter, at most. The man raped her and I have looked at the doctor’s report. Rigor Mortis places the time of death within fifteen minutes of when I presume she was raped, so there was provocation and self defense involved here.”

“Kofo, I am disappointed in you. You just want glory for you glorified squad in this case. What special evidence do you have of rape that our boys overlooked? Or you haven’t considered the possibility of the girl lying that she was raped to justify the cold blooded murder? Evidence, Kofo, evidence.”

“There are pictures taken with her phone. The ‘boys’ missed it when sweeping the flat for evidence.”

His eyes really lighted up for the first time and Kofo saw something pass through them that she couldn’t quite place. “Where is the phone now?” he asked

“Right here,” she said, as she brought out the white blackberry torch. She handed it over to him and he quickly raced to the images. “Have you gotten a doctor’s expert opinion confirming the rape?” he asked.

“No I haven’t” she responded, shaking her head at how she had made such a fundamental mistake.

“Good,” he said and then he checked the image location – memory card. In one swift movement, he opened the phone and extracted the memory card. And broke it into two. And then he looked squarely at her and said “we will try her for first degree murder, and trust me, I will be prosecuting this case myself. And I intend to exact the maximum sentence.”

Kofo stood up without a word and left.

Flora – 11th Petal – CONSISTENCY

I couldn’t post Flora on Wednesday, as the Golden Sands came out same day and work has been quite hectic. The queries I got from people who regularly read this section made me realize that more people read Flora than I imagined. I’m posting today and posting something that talks to me and everyone else in this regards. Consistency is the watchword. Hope you’re getting your Golden Sands o. En En. Find out how to buy here

Enjoy the Flora Post.

For most flowering plants, their flowers come into bloom at fixed times in the year. The flowers appear, mature and bloom at consistent times in the year. In fact, seasons of the year can be accurately described by just looking at the stage of their life cycle that the flowers are in. Many of the pollinators of these flowers have even timed their life cycles to coincide with the consistency of the flower. They reproduce when the flowers are in bloom so that there is an abundance of food at the time the young come forth. If the flower becomes inconsistent, whole populations of its pollinators will die off.

 In branding any product, the most important aspect of building a strong brand is to consistently deliver on the promise of the brand identity. And it is not good products that sell well: it is great brands. Organizations would prefer not to release a product consignment than to release a bad product and create an inconsistency. Inconsistency creates misunderstanding and doubt that negatively affect relationships, whether business or personal.

 We must strive above all to be consistent in our words and actions. Don’t be a flash in the pan. Learn to take action only when you have adequately prepared yourself to sustain those actions in a consistent manner. It is only consistency that makes you trustworthy and dependable, two necessary ingredients in business and personal relationships. They make you attract the right people to yourself. People begin to make their decisions based on your consistent actions.

Reader’s Corner – Me, Myself and My Generator

Thanks for all the inquiries and purchases of Golden Sands so far. And the feedback. I appreciate. There are some teething problems with the distribution, but its already getting smoother. As time goes on, more channels will be made available for you to get the book. Find out how to grab your copy here

Enjoy today’s Reader’s Corner post. It was sent in by Tima.

The Oxford advanced learners dictionary 6th edition defines the word lonely as sad and spent alone.

That’s what describes my friends and I and in fact most cool looking unmarried ladies we see drive around town in their cars.

I have discovered that most of us live this triangular kind of life that is from house to work, work to house and house to work all over again and that’s how the cycle goes.

My typical day starts with me jumping off my mattress at the jingle of my alarm say a quick word of prayer and jump into to the bathroom to snatch a quick shower and dress up and off I dash to work, all I have in mind is to beat traffic and be at my desk so no branch manager has the guts to berate me for coming in a few seconds late like I was his kid!

As a sales person, I have a target to beat, and boy do I strive so hard to beat it, that’s what’s got me promoted when others are still sitting on their same level and notch.

To beat a target does not have to do alone with knowing your job, it also has a lot to do with your physical appearance too! I am not a power dresser and not a designers slave but I know how to throw on an ensemble that would accentuate my God given assets!

Call me vain, well like they say if you’ve got them………….

Apart from the dress work, you’ve got to have a face to carry the body o! 

As a customer facing sales person a beautiful face matters a lot, so I guess my company looks out for the kind of sales people they pick.

Now I’m derailing, let me get back on track.

End of the day, I have to drive home and as I park PHCN strikes and I have to turn on the generator, it’s so frigging annoying!

When I used to live in Kaduna I did not have the big generator I could turn on with the ignition key, I had this I pass my neighbour one had to pull.

I pulled the generator, one of them powerless nights and my busybody neighbour Iya Tolu, as I love to call her, said to me, “you dey do like man, me I no go fit draw this generator o!”

“Na because you get man wey go help you draw your own na, if you no get you go draw am,” I retorted.

Now do not get me wrong, I am not one of those ladies who are so whiny and want a man to do everything for them all the time, but heck sometimes a lady needs a brother man joor, abi I lie?

There was this day I woke up and as my leg hit the bedroom floor I thought I was in a pool! My room was flooded and even seeping to the living room, now I live in one of these estates in Abuja that the houses are built with low budget materials and we pay cut throat rents.

That morning was horrible for me, that day I truly wished I was either married or was in a serious relationship where I could either wake up hubby or pick up my phone to call boyfriend and say the house is flooded please get a plumber darling, but alas I had no man and so I had to run around the estate, makes some calls to get a plumber to me and then called in late to work so as to stay around for the plumber to fix the fault.

I got to work in such low spirits that I thought I couldn’t manage a smile the whole day, but trust akpuruka single girl na, I managed to smile even though I was crumbling within.

I needed so much to be cuddled and told that all would be well and the sun would shine again, but where the bobo na?

Every year when my cut throat rent is about to expire, I pray to God and say dear Lord, I do not want to pay another rent next year biko, why can’t one man come and marry me and let me channel this huge sum of money to something better?

The worst of them all are those cold nights when I crave to be cuddled and feel the warmth and smell of a male, my male around me and all I have are my pillows and teddies, those nights are so awful!

That’s when the internet becomes my friend, I tweet till so late or exchange bbms with  whoever was ready to chat with me and when all of these have been done I either cry myself to sleep or simply drift off to sleep due to fatigue.

Now, don’t get me wrong it’s not like I don’t have men that flock around me, like I said earlier on, I could pass for an eye candy, but somehow I manage to attract the wrong ones, well so I think sha.

In this Abuja, most single guys are just fake and superficial, they are larger than life, most of them look out for lonely, working class comfortable girls like us to feed off, and omo I be correct delta babe I no fit fall mugu like that biko.

Apart from the hungry Abuja fine boys, we also have the comfortable single ones also who date you and act like they are doing you a favour, that’s a category of guys I totally can’t stand! It’s not like babe is hungry or jobless but you would be acting like you are God’s gift to her, biko park well abeg.

Now we also have the married men who I call vultures, they want to kill you with niceness, as if they truly are nice, biko these ones ehn I get as I dey handle them, don’t ask me how as I no go fit explain am.

Some of you might think me choosy or unserious, but I am not, God knows I am not o, I have tried to hold up a relationship but men, there are so many things that makes one a man other than a dick dangling between your legs.

That’s how one impregnated my sweet friend and she’s now a single mother, well at least she gained something from the relationship, she gained her gorgeous son who is now my godson.

That’s how two Christmases ago we all were at the village to spend the festive period with mumsie, and my uncle came to the house and went on and on about how I was being choosy if not he does not see how a beautiful girl as me would not be married by now, see me see local trouble o!

I just calmed him down and said he should not worry that very soon I would present him with a befitting son in-law, na so matter quench and me I promised not to go to the village for Christmas anytime soon if I’m not married.

I was not ready to start telling him of how I was almost married a year before and because I wanted to get married I endured an abusive relationship, ha!

That marriage would have been the death of me, each time I remember it I shudder in fear of getting married! That’s story for another day.

Somehow I think I am truly afraid to get married, I see so many sad couples around me who are no longer together because they want to, or love to but because of the kids they have between them or what family and friends would say or think of them if they separate,

Abeg me I can’t do suffering and smiling biko, for me marriage is meant to be enjoyed and not endured.

Now don’t get me wrong there are so many happy couples out there too, when you are in their company, their homes all you think about is getting married, but alas it’s a case of different strokes for different folks.

Kai it’s late and I’m sure I’ve rambled off point biko, I hope I did make some sense or entertained which ever it was to you, it’s time to shut down this system, hug my pillows and fall asleep.