Archive | June 2013

Rekiya’s Tale – Episode 2

My English Teacher, Mr. Charles Iyoha of Charman Academy (with 18 Years Experience in this matter) is running a 12 Weekend Grammar and ELocution programme for working class people starting from July. If you’re interested, please call 07033775454 or email for details on venue, pricing and all other stuff.

Enjoy Rekiya’s Tale

Rekiya Seyi

It doesn’t take as long as most people think it does for your life to change. One moment, you are the happiest spirit in the whole of the Milky Way, and in the next instant, your whole world is shattered into microscopic pieces, and the very thing that was your source of joy becomes the dagger in your heart. I was immobilized, I could not move a limb. I had one of my “moments”. My moments are something like this – you know how watershed events tend to make you look through all the past experiences that led to that moment with every minute detail now vividly replaying itself? That’s exactly what happened in the five minutes it took me to recover from being struck deaf and dumb by the shocking blow Ochuko had just dealt me. I remembered an incident when I mentioned how that spot on his finger looked paler than the rest of his fingers, and he had told me that he used to wear a lot of rings in his juvenile days and the finger had never recovered its color. And I foolishly laughed and imagined him as a juvenile delinquent. I remembered another episode when we were both in Shoprite and we ran into someone who seemed to know him very well from way back. When that one asked him, “how family,” he had looked flustered for some seconds before answering that they were fine and quickly hurrying the fellow along. I had asked about it, and he had told me some sob story about having a sick sister who was being treated in India and that the question about his family had brought that back to him unexpectedly in the middle of the mall. I comforted him, and even offered to contribute something to her treatment, but he told me they were fine and handling it. Many more events flashed through my mind in that period and I saw clearly that I could have known if I wanted to know. Oh, I remembered and remembered and remembered. I could have asked harder and pressed further. But I unconsciously stopped myself; I didn’t want anything to burst my bubble. Now, it had been unceremoniously shattered to a million pieces. That Asa’s song, Binbanke played in my head like a movie soundtrack to accompany my misery.

I frantically gathered my things together and ran after him. Thankfully, I was forming preggy mama not just sexy mama when I was leaving home, so I hadn’t worn any of my outrageous heels, otherwise I would have probably destroyed my ankle trying to catch up with him.

I ignored the curious looks all the fine people that I went past on my way out gave me. All that mattered was catching up with Ochuko to extract an explanation of what he just did from him. I caught up with him just as he was getting into his car

“Ochuko, what the hell is the meaning of all that? Please tell me this is some sort of joke” I demanded angrily.

“Meaning of all what? Who told you to go and get pregnant? At your age, you don’t know what to do to make sure that you don’t get pregnant? Or you just chose to get pregnant deliberately? To what end? To trap me?”

“Trap… damn you Ochuko!” I screamed. “Stop being coy. Forget that I’m pregnant; let’s say I was joking about being pregnant. Let’s even say I don’t have the capacity to get pregnant! What was that stunt you pulled with a wedding band and leaving wordlessly? That is what I am demanding an explanation, a sensible explanation for.”

“Ask yourself truthfully, have I ever told you I was going to marry you?” he asked pointedly.

I could not come up with any sensible answer. That was a low, low blow. True, he had never said he wanted to marry me in those exact words, he had not proposed or anything, but what was a girl to think when a man did all those things he did for me? Or when he said things like he wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together, growing old together? Or that he would still love me when I was a little fat, wrinkled and grey?

He continued “you can’t answer because I never said so. You merely assumed, based on whatever reasons you decided to. And look, Rekiya, assumption is the least of all knowledge. I am not going to be trapped…”

“Arrrrrrgh!” I screamed. “We are not talking about my pregnancy here. I am talking about that damned piece of metal you are wearing on your finger. What the hell is it about?”

“You mean my wedding ring?” Ochuko said, almost casually. I felt like bludgeoning him to death in that moment, and as if he read my mind, he wound up a bit more, so my hands could not reach into the car.

“Ochuko, what are you saying? Wedding ring how? Married to whom? How can you be married? We are not married yet now, so you cannot be married. No way! Is it not me that you’ve been with that you want to marry ni?” I rambled. When I stopped, my eyes unconsciously took in what would be my reflection on his now wound up windscreen. The image was a far cry from the “sexy preggy mama” that had left my house. My hair was a huge mess, flying all over my face, my powder was messed up, and the tears I was struggling to hold back now had done their worst to my makeup. My eyes looked like a drug addicts own, wide and out of focus.

“Look, will you calm down and let me explain? Or will you just keep shouting without allowing me speak?”

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry dear. I’m listening,” I said, trying to gather myself together, hoping against hope that he would say something that would make everything fine.

He wound down a bit when he saw that I had calmed down, and a thought crossed my mind to lurch for his neck. I bound that devil who was about to make me destroy my relationship with such impulsive action like that woman who met her hubby with a frying pan at the door because her sister (who was later discovered to be lying) said he was the one that impregnated her.

“I travelled to the UK eight years ago, penniless, without papers and a pure hustling Benue boy. When I got there, in order to get my papers, I met this other Benue lady, who was born and raised there. We got married and I got my papers not long after our first child was born. I have two kids with her, but look Rekiya, I don’t love her at all. It’s just a marriage of convenience, just to get and keep my papers. It is…”

That demon got full hold of me in that instant and I lurched for his neck, digging my acrylic nails into his neck. He let out a surprised yelp and quickly pressed the automatic button that would activate the windscreen on the driver’s side. I refused to let go, until the pain from the glass that was pressing against my flesh compelled me to. As soon as I withdrew my hands from the car, Ochuko stepped on the accelerator, and zoomed out of the car park like a drunk driver. It was a miracle he didn’t bash the car into any of the other cars. I stood there for a couple of minutes, then robotically went to my car and drove home. It was a miracle I did not bash the car on my way home.

I had been home for less than five minutes, and was still undressed, when my phone rang. “Damn! I didn’t turn these damned phones off,” I said to myself. If it was any other ringtone I had heard I would not have reached for the phone. But it was Nel Oliver’s Baby Girl (you cannot believe how much I love that song. Thinking about it now, it’s the song I wanted to dance with my father to when he gave me away to Ochuko. Yeah, dreams, right?). That was my daddy’s ringtone. I picked the phone. It is one of those things about life that people that care about you just seem to be able to sense your times of distress and reach out to you at that time.

“Hey princess,” his deep rich voice came sailing over the phone.

“Good evening daddy,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. I obviously didn’t do a great job, and if anyone could decipher when I was distressed, it was my dad.

“Rekiya, what is the matter?” he asked straight up.

“Daddy, there’s nothing…” I responded.

“Young woman, you will tell me what the issue is this minute, or I am coming over to hear it myself right now,” he threatened. Knowing him, he would do just that if I didn’t start talking and I didn’t want him to see me in the state I was.

“Daddy, Ochuko left me,” I said. It was not a lie, but I knew it was not the whole truth. Daddy was quiet for seconds and I thought I had lost him. “Daddy, are you there?”

“Rekiya, what happened,” he said, finally

“I found out that he is married to a white woman and we had a row,” I blurted out. Still not the whole truth. For the first time in my living memory, I heard my father swear “that lower than swine son of a bitch! I am coming over this minute.”

“Daddy, you don’t have to…” I began

“Oh shush. I AM COMING,” he said and then hung up. I hadn’t told him all. Daddy would know the moment he saw me. I would not be able to look him in the eye and not tell him I was pregnant.

I suddenly heard a sound at my door. It could not be my dad, except he had used some of Baba Risi’s disappearing juju to appear at my door the moment he hung up. I lived in Phase One, just off Admiralty at the first right turn off the road and my folks are in Agungi, so it would take daddy another fifteen to twenty minutes to reach me if he left immediately. So I became tense when the sounds told me that the person was actually opening my door from outside.

Ochuko let himself into my flat and stood briefly in the doorway. A primal fear crept up my back as all those nonsense things I’d watched on C&I flashed before me. Abi he was a serial killer who specialized in babes like me? I have a silly imagination, and in the split second it took him to reach me, a thousand terrible images from television flashed through my mind.

He opened his mouth and said dryly “Rekiya, you have to understand. I don’t want her; it’s you I still want to be with. It might look terribly complicated right now, but it can be sorted out if you do not leave me now.”

child looking up


Baba Risi’s Court – With or Without?

Brand New Baba Risi’s Court – Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy 😀 .


mai shai

The two cases that Baba Risi had heard today had been boring and immediately the current one was read, he knew he had another boring case in his hands. No matter how hard you were, there were some recalcitrant fellows that are just nuisances, like gadflies in your loins. Dende was one of them and he kept finding himself before Baba Risi every other week. Today, it was his landlord that had brought him. He had refused to pay his share of the NEPA on the communal meter the whole house shared, and when he was disconnected, he had reconnected himself and then dared anyone in the house to disconnect him. None of them dared – Dende was a former boxer.

Rosco and two other guys were in the process of frisking Dende for the money he owed when suddenly, a lady in nothing but shimmie and bra ran into the courtroom, hotly pursued by two stocky men. One of them was bare-chested, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He was short and stumpy, and it looked more like he was awkwardly hopping from leg to leg than actually running. His companion was not much taller than him and even more powerfully built, square head that ended in a square chin.

The woman was shouting at the top of her voice “Baba Risi help me o, this man wan kill me, abeg help me.”

The two boys with Rosco promptly stopped the two male intruders in their tracks with hot slaps that sent them reeling backwards into some empty seats. Rosco himself held the squirming woman in his arms, enjoying the free access he had to her scantily clad body.

Baba Risi’s voice came from the back of the courtroom “Angela, na you enter like that come make me fear?”

Everyone in the room turned around in shock and an “ooooh” passed through the crowd. When did Baba Risi, who moments ago had been seated at the front behind the “order!” shouting clerk get outside and reenter all the way at the entrance. Shouts of “Baba O!” rent the air from the strategically placed boys amongst the spectators in the courtroom. Baba Risi laughed amiably, waving his hands as he went forward. The ofe he had gone to Ilisan to do had worked perfectly. Dem no dey hear gbam when ant fall nack ground, na so dem no go see Baba Risi.

“Na this man wan kill me o, Baba Risi,” Angela said, pointing to the first of her pursuers who now sat nursing their cheeks under the watchful eyes of Baba Risi’s boys.

“Ah Ah, wetin dem do you wey make you run commot like mad person like this, dey give free show of market wey men dey pay better money for?” He remembered Angela’s monkey style that had blown him away in bed not too long ago.

“No mind am o, Baba Risi. Na this man o. this one,” she pointed at the thicker of the two who was properly dressed “be my regular customer. Him name na Osas and I like am well well, because he sabi do, and he dey pay, no story.”

Laughter erupted throughout the courtroom as Angela gesticulated with her hands to mimic how Osas used to “do” her.

“En, so wetin come happen? How killing come enter inside do matter?” Baba Risi queried. A crowd had followed Angela when she was being pursued and now had gathered outside the courtroom, straining to hear what was going on. Rosco signaled two boys and they went to the door to do brisk business collecting the necessary access fees.

“Baba cool down make I finish the tory o. Today, I dey jejely, na him Osas call me say he go like book me for one of him friends. I bill am proper, since no be him direct, and as usual, he no drag price. As I think say na go come, I go, na him he introduce me to this him friend, Acho.” She pointed to the first man that entered after her and looked on him with annoyance.

“I gree, follow am enter room, and we start to do. He no gree make we on light and I no mind, I think say na because him thing small, na why he no wan make I see am.”

The courtroom once again burst into raucous laughter, and even normally stern faced Rosco couldn’t help himself. Baba Risi had returned to his seat by now, and the clerk shouted “order! Order!” After some time, the crowd became quiet and Angela continued “na so he start, we do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do” the crowd joined in saying the do by this time.

“The do don do now,” Acho shouted from his seat. “E no pass three hours and you dey make am be like say na since morning!”

“Oluwa ooooooooooooo, three hours non stop? How many alomo you drink o,” Baba Risi exclaimed, as murmurs ran through the crowd.

“Person wey don do for three hours non-stop, na normal person? Abi na money juju he wan carry me do ni? Na him I say I no do again, na him he no wan gree. Abeg, three hours of do, e never reach make him money finish ni? Na him I lie gree am do another ten minutes, he still no release. Na him me I run o. Dem begin pursue me say I must return their money, and as I never wan die or turn to money juju, I run come make you save me.”

“This one na serious matter. But make I hear wetin oga Acho, Nackson of this area go talk, abi, people?” Baba Risi asked and the people responded with an overwhelming yes.

“No mind this woman o, the normal thing na say when you pay, until you release, your money never finish. Why she wan cheat me now? Abi she never collect money ni? Make she come go finish her work abeg. Baba Risi, abeg handle this matter without partial o,” Acho said. The meaning of the last sentence was not lost on Baba Risi.

“I don hear you Acho, but you sef use your church mind think am naaa. Three hours of do don reach you now!”

“Baba Risi, I no gree,” he said, shaking his head adamantly. “Na one of two, make she return my money, abi make we do until I release. Na the contract be that.”

“Na your sister you go do again, no be me lailai” Angela said angrily.

“Na you be that?” Musa, the mai shai, the bread and tea seller in the area asked suddenly from the crowd?

“Na you who? Musa wetin you dey talk?” Rosco asked menacingly.

“Oga make you coolu temper. I just dey come, na him dem tell me wetin happen. No mind this Acho o, na kill he wan kill the girl,” Musa said.

“Wetin you sabi wey he never talk, Musa,” Baba Risi asked, looking at Acho with meaning. Shebi he was being indignant. He sensed what Musa was going to say would break this case without making him look unfair.

“Musa, dem call you for this matter?” Acho growled.

“Sharrap Acho!” Baba Risi said sharply and Acho cowered. “Oya, Musa, you be witness for this case. Talk wetin you sabi.”

“Thank you Baba Risi. See this Acho, he come my place for morning say he wan buy bread and tea. He come with this him friend. I been ask am, shay you want your tea with or without? Him friend ask say with wetin o, and as all my town people wey dey there laugh, he get the message, go buy coke. But this Acho, he say he wan test wetin dey make us laugh, say make I give am him tea with. So I give am like that. He drink him tea, chop him bread, I collect my money and he waka commot. Na him he come back thirty minutes later, him abuna don hard sotey e dey pain am. I tell am say he no dey expect am? The with wey we put for the tea na quick action, better original burantashi o. The thing no go go down if he no nack woman, and that woman go hear am. And as e dey tey reach before he see woman to do, na so e go tey for am to release when dem dey do.”

Chineke me! Na wetin you dey carry me do be that?” Angela flew at Acho and grabbed him by the boxers.

The boys guarding him quickly held her back.

Baba Risi asked the two men “Na lie Musa dey talk?” They both couldn’t answer, they merely looked down at their feet like children caught doing something wrong.

Baba Risi grinned like a tiger. “Acho, the Burantashi Nackson, so you wan knowingly kill Angela with your blocus abi? Shay if you no sabi with wetin when them ask with or without, you no fit ask, abi make you do like your sensible friend, take coke? Na my judgment for this matter be this – as you do three hours, you go pay full fee for one round for every thirty minutes wey you do. And make we fit celebrate well well, you go buy bread and tea, without, from Musa for everybody wey dey here.”

Musa beamed from ear to ear as the whole court room cheered Baba Risi.

Rekiya’s Tale – Episode 1

Finally! We start a new series today. Rekiya’s Tale Begins.


Rekiya 4

It doesn’t actually take as much as most people think it takes to fall in love. I was twenty seven and not so fresh out of school. I graduated at twenty from a Babcock University and was through with NYSC by twenty one. And as if I was walking on some gilded star, I landed a lucrative job as the assistant to the senior assistant to the directors of a major oil and gas firm (yes, assistants have their own assistants 😉 ). Over time, I have grown in the business, and three years ago, one of the directors decided to venture out on his own when the firm refused to take a risk and pursue a certain deal. As a sharp Lagos girl, I had rightly guessed that the deal was gold and so I moved with him when he set up. It wasn’t easy in that first year, moving from the comfort and certainty of my first office but now, we are a thriving oil and gas firm, and I am the senior assistant to him, the sole owner. I am more or less the next most powerful person in the company after him. And I am just twenty seven with my own house in Lekki Phase 1, a state of the art SUV and an official salon car with my own driver. And yes, I now have my own assistants. I was a bigz girlz, and I enjoyed life to the fullest, like Wizkid sang London today, Lagos tomorrow, Reks baybay lokeloke, omo jaiye jaiye *pauses to play the song and do an Azonto to it 😀 *.

Back to the story; now, as with any girl in my shoes, I had dreams of the kind of man I wanted to be with all up in my head. And my dream of a man wasn’t unrealistic. I in fact had a man in my life who met virtually of the criteria I wanted in a man, – my father. So I know that my dream does not have to be a spirit being or a green man from Mars; he can be a flesh and blood human being, born of woman, nine months after she had sex with a man.

See, first, my father is pretty cerebral. You can talk about everything from space travel to bra sizes with him, and he’ll be able to keep up. I always look forward to having conversations with him, he’s such an intelligent man, and marshals his points with suave effectiveness that leaves you admiring him even when your views are opposing his.

Next, he is a perfect gentleman. He stands up when a lady joins him at a table, opens the doors for my mum, walks on the correct side of the road when they are strolling and so on and so forth. Third, my father taught me how to expect a man to dress. He knows what suits his tall, lanky frame and wears it with such effortless elegance. Nothing delights my mum more that watching him leave the house looking all dapper, his graying hair giving him a distinguished look. And he never stopped telling her how much he loved her, in word and in deed. In little gestures that held special meaning for them both, like when he had that copy of her first glasses made and then placed it beside her bedside on their anniversary. Little, thoughtful things like that.

So it was, that the men came. The proud ones who assumed that buying expensive gifts, driving impressive cars and lving in expansive apartments would sweep me off my feet. The high talking ones, dreamers who assumed that I should be grateful for being given the opportunity for ordinary human me to be a part of superhuman them. And who assumed that my money and resources were to be automatically channeled to fulfilling their dreams once they came into my life. There were the ones who came with proposals of marriage from day one, assuming that I would be glad they wanted to rescue me from the gulag of my spinsterhood and deliver me into the bliss of marriage to them and the joy of having my surname transformed to their own. There were my boss’ friends. There were my brothers’ friends. There were guys that my friends had planned hookups with, whether overtly or covertly. But none of them held a candle to my ideal of a man, daddy. They all fell short and were shallow in their own ways, and I didn’t hesitate to make it known to them each time they came. There were whispers of me in the office, whispers of me at home, whispers amongst my friends and whispers amongst friends who had all tried and failed.

All that changed when I met Ochuko. He wasn’t fine in the conventional sense like say a Chris Attoh kinda way. No, I had seen eye candy in my time, he certainly wasn’t one. But he had this rugged self assured air about him and when he entered the meeting room that day, every eye (there were eight male eyes and ten female eyes) turned and fixated on him. He had that kind of effect that first time and every time we went out together. And when he talked, he became animated and handsome in my eyes. I was supposed to be taking notes for my boss in that meeting but I found my mind wandering to him in the room and imagining us together in a beach house in Malta. You can bet that I formed migraine for my boss when he asked for my notes to compare to his. He let me go early and as I returned to my desk, I saw a handwritten note. “Pardon my intrusion into your privacy, but I couldn’t quite shake you out of my consciousness. There’s a stage play on Saturday and I’d like us to watch it together. I’m critiquing it for The Times and I suspect that your input will add perspective and give a good dimension to my critique. I’ve taken the liberty to drop one of the VIP IVs on your desk. I do hope I can reach you on the number on your card. Ochuko (the latecomer at the meeting)” and then he drew a smiley face beside his name. I smiled as wide as the smiley as I read the message a second time.

I was almost exploding with excitement. One, that he had noticed me at all (I’m not drop dead gorgeous) and two, his proposal was so eloquent and required my mind first, not some silly nonsense about how great I looked or how he would like to take care of me. I waited for his call all through the day but it didn’t come. I was a bit disappointed when I packed up and had the driver take me home at 5PM. My number one rule when I’m alone in the house, remove every item of clothing except the one that keeps my boobs firm, le bra and le panties. As soon as I had kicked off my shoes, followed my number one rule and flopped on the couch, my phone rang. Unknown number it was, and my heart skipped a beat. When I picked up, the voice that said “Hello” was unmistakably his own. I rushed my hello in excitement but if he noticed, he certainly didn’t act like he did. The conversation was beautiful. As soon as we eased into each other, we teased each other to no end and played on words, intelligently twisting here and there in conversation without having to explain a thing to the other party. We had talked for ninety minutes before we inevitably ran out of things to say and bade each other goodnight. We agreed to see on Saturday at noon.

Thus began my beautiful romance with Ochuko. Everyone was mega-happy for me. I had waited patiently and found a man that made me tick after all. The only person who didn’t dig Ochuko was the one person whose approval of him I craved the most – my father. The conversations about him went something like this “Rekiya, I’m happy you found a man, but this man, there’s something about him I can’t place a name to, but I’m just uncomfortable about him.”

“Daddy,” I would respond making the most pouty face I could muster “I know you’re afraid for me as your only daughter, but it’s okay. I believe he’s right for me, I feel it in my bones.” Then I would add playfully “don’t be jealous someone is finally coming to take me away from you dear dad” and he would laugh uneasily. It boiled down to a feeling on his part and a feeling on mine. My father let me have my way, I was too happy and he didn’t want to be the reason I became unhappy.

Our first time together was amazing. We had agreed to keep sex off the plate for the first six months of the relationship, and he had agreed without batting an eyelid. Of course I watched to see if his interest in me would wane because of that, but it didn’t even cause the slightest scratch to it. He spent weekends at mine and I at his. We had exotic getaways to Gambia, Ghana and even Madagascar. And yes, we did do the Malta beach house thingy I imagined the first time I saw him. He made it happen for my birthday after I had mentioned that fantasy to him in passing one day. See what I’m saying – he is so so thoughtful (fans self). The first time we had sex was on that trip, in the beach house, with the sounds of the ocean forming the background soundtrack, melding into my soft moans as he gently made love to me while my nails dug into his back. I thought I would die from pleasure and I shuddered when I eventually reached the height of my ecstasy. Above all, there was no law of diminishing returns in motion here. I had feared his passion for me would diminish when we finally had sex, but on the contrary, he became even more attached to me. This was the life. *plays verse of wizkid’s jaiye jaiye – I’m balling, I’m balling, I’m balling for two 😀 *

The first person that asked if I was pregnant was my boss. I initially thought he was just teasing, until I realized he was asking seriously. And no, I wasn’t doing the Nollywood vomit things at work. I asked him why he said so, and he explained that it was a gift he had, he was always the first in his house to know if anyone in the family was pregnant. I laughed it off, and told him I’d be his first failed preggy prophecy. Until I missed my period. Now, at twenty eight, making my own money and being independent, getting pregnant wasn’t so alarming, plus I knew who was responsible anyway. Still there was some panic I could not wish away and I went to my doctor. They took all the samples and it was confirmed, I was officially pregnant. I was supposed to see Ochuko that night and had planned a dinner to surprise him at Radisson Blu. I thought it would be a great time to tell him, with the ambience and all. Excitedly, I went home and wore my sexy red gown for the dinner. Preggy sexy mama!

Ochuko arrived looking all yummy and my heart skipped a beat. A few women turned from their men and followed him with their eyes until he sat opposite me and my heart swelled with unabashed pride. We had seafood with rice and peppered chicken wings. The food was beautiful and conversation splendid. “Ochuko, I’ve got some news for you,” I began. He had been leaning forward on the table and now he sat upright, eyebrows arched in question “News, you say?” he inquired.

I placed my hands over his hands and smiled into his eyes “Yes. Ochuko, I was at my doctor’s today, and he ran tests. I am pregnant for you. We are going to have a baby!”

“Wow,” he said smiling. I was glad, he was smiling. I didn’t look closely enough at the smile, which in retrospect now, I saw for what it was, a cynic one. He withdrew his hands from mine and dipped his hands into his jacket pocket. Out came a white gold wedding band and he slipped in on. It fit perfectly. And then he stood up and walked away from a dumbfounded me.

Wedding Band

Finding Hubby – All The Episodes

Hi people, so due to popular demand, I’m putting all the links to each story in one post. Enjoy.

Finding Hubby


Episode 1:
Episode 2:
Episode 3:
Episode 4:
Episode 5:
Episode 6:
Episode 7:
Episode 8:
Episode 9:
Episode 10:
Episode 11:
Episode 12:
Episode 13:
Episode 14:
Episode 15:
Episode 16:
Episode 17:
Episode 18:
Episode 19:
Episode 20:
Episode 21:
Episode 22:
Episode 23:
Episode 24:



Guardians of the Seals – Disjointed Bits.

Right. So I’m going to load you with a couple of things this morning (Yes, I love to share with you! :* ). First, don’t forget to find out about Bolero, the new instant drink, by clicking on the link on the right.

Second, Rekiya’s Tale, the next series on tlsplace begins next week Monday.

Third, the image I’m using today is an illustration from my 1st Book, an illustrated Children’s Book called Rat Race.

Finally, today’s post is two different parts of the fantasy novel I’m working on, Guardians of the Seals. You can read an early excerpt of that here  The emphasis is that it is a WIP work of FICTION. En En!

There’s a lot of fiction writing going on in my world o. Thanks for reading always.


pg17 copy

Back in the fiery Neatherworld, Lucifer called the demons together. He was in his eni form. Some of the lesser demons would be unable to survive his eji form, and he needed all the manpower he could muster for his plan. If he could get that portal open for long enough to rush into heaven, he could ambush and route the faithful angels. Then the ones that were spared would decamp to him out of fear and God would be left alone. He allowed himself the faintest of smiles, animating his grotesque face briefly. As the demon assembly gathered, a swirling, milling sea of dark forms all around him, he mounted his throne, his eyes like a fire. He curled his fist into a ball and slammed it into the arm of his throne, as his whole body glowed. “It must work!” he snarled. The demons maintained a clear distance from him. Even in this assembly, none came so close to him as to be able to make any contact with him. Gatherings like this festered rebellion and he had taken necessary precautions. One could never be too careful when it came to his kind of underlings.

He rose to address the assembly. “Comrades in the struggle, the time for the actualization of our dreams is near. I shall tell you something that only a few beings know and that has been hidden from the beginning of the ages. I have chosen to call you together and articulate it to you like this, rather than disseminate the information through spirit communication. This is because of the import of what I am about to say. It is a secret so powerful, that even the few that know it dare not speak of it, for the fear of the consequences from the One whom the secret is about. But I have decided to let you in on this secret, as my comrades at arms. Most of you know God as the all powerful being whose word is omnipotent, whose vision is omnipresent and whose mind is omniscient. But it was not always so. No, it wasn’t! God was once an angel, like every single one of us once was!” A murmur went through the crowd. He paused for effect and surveyed his audience. They were listening with rapt attention now, from the lowliest to the highest. He continued “before the making of the assembly of angels, there were only the Elder Angels existing, each of us equal in statue and equal in power. There were only ten of us. You all know Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. They were also Elder Angels. God was one of the ten elder angels. His name was Yaweh. But in those pre-time periods, his quest for discovery led him to search for ways to make him greater. He discovered the Tree of Almightiness and ate of its fruit. Eating of the fruit transformed him from a mere angel into the Almighty God that you all know. But I knew him before he became God and know he was not always all powerful. So while I served him, I also sought to find the Tree of Almightiness. After searching for ages and ages, during which you all came into being, I found it. But just as I was on the verge of tasting the fruit of my labor, God came and accused me of wanting to be like Him. Of course I wanted to be like Him! Didn’t He want to be like him? Even as I speak to you now, doesn’t the desire to be like him grow within you now that you know the possibility exists? What is the sin in that?”

Resounding shouts of No! No! No! rent the air. He raised his hand for quiet. When they had all calmed down, he went on “At that point, you my comrades joined me, and for that singular reason, he banished us all from the heaven. But I, your great leader was not defeated. I had lost that battle, but not the war. Now a new battle, a decisive battle is around the corner. God has slipped up by putting his greatest treasure in those fragile earthen vessels He called man, and by so doing has placed in our hands a golden opportunity to take back what is rightfully ours. We shall create a heaven where there is no one that is God, and every demon is equal as it was in the days of the Elder Angels. Be prepared! Be! Very! Prepared!”

     Every demon let out a deafening roar, the sound of which together was like the most horrible sound imaginable. As the demons were dismissed, Nimrod made his way back to the garden. Things were indeed about being taken a notch up.


Three figures gathered around the bed in the dimly lit room in the small brick bungalow. The conversation was light and their laughter was easy; a little too easy. The reason lay in the bed before them. For in it, lay Farida, their friend and companion of many years dying. Stripped to the waist, an intricately woven tattoo stood out on his left breast. His red hair, now pale from stress his body had gone through stood out spiky on his head. They recounted stories of their years together and laughed heartily. They held hands and sang old hymns. Then they noticed that the tattoos on his chest began to glow. They all stopped singing. It was only then that they realized that Farida had stopped singing for some moments. He had stopped breathing with his lips arched as if to form a word of the song he was singing. Line by line, the tattoo began to rise out of his skin like beads of bright white light, until it formed into a wavy, finger length item that lay on his chest. Even in the dimness of the room, it gave out a cool light, and looked like solidified flowing water. Heads bowed, they finished the hymn they had been singing.

“Hevenu Shalom Aleichem

Hevenu Shalom Aleichem

Hevenu Shalom Shalom Shalom Aleichem

Hevenu Shalom… Aleichem”

Gabriel stood in the door of the room, observing the three men with their heads bowed. Even though these men knew death was not the final end, the loss of a friend to it still weighed heavy on their hearts. He waited for a few moments before entering, for the final chapter in a saga millennia long was about to unfold. And these men would be at the center of it all. He closed his eyes and prayed for strength for them. “Benzahr, Eldad, Lex, my friends” he said, touching each as he called their names. They all smiled. It had been a while since they had seen Gabriel and they were glad that he had come to them now. “Gabriel” was all Eldad said in his gruff voice. The other two remained silent. Gabriel looked from man to man and marveled at how different each was to the other.

Benzahr was a sleek banker, with fine extremities, the long limbs and polished features of aristocrats. He came from a long line of old money. His hairline was beginning to recede and thin out at the edges. He was wearing tan chinos and a grey polo t-shirt tucked in. He looked like he was making a stop on the way to a golf course. He had a fine Rolex watch on and wore shoes that shone. He always insisted on being called his full name. Only the man that lay dead in the bed now had ever been allowed to call him Zahr. He acknowledged Gabriel with a stiff nod of his head.

Lex was a mathematics lecturer who doubled as a fitness buff. He was the oldest of the lot, in his early fifties now but looking trimmer more athletic than Benzhar who was almost ten years younger. He worked out every day, ate healthy and organic food only and took great care of his body. And he liked to wear clothes that showed this off. Today, he was wearing a fitted striped shirt with a pair of blue jeans and flats. He took and shook Gabriel’s hand. His grip was a firm one but his eyes were smiling ones.

Eldad was a short and stocky man, with a gruff and loud voice that was well suited to shouting instructions over the din in his auto-mechanic workshop. He had a love for cars and motorbikes that bordered on obsessive at times. He was a talker, that one. He said things as they came to his head, without the finesse the other two had. Different as they were, these men shared a bond that ran deeper and stronger than between blood brothers. Then he touched Farida, shutting his eyes one final time, before picking up the object on his chest.

Moments later, they were gathered around a table, stripped to the waist, except for Gabriel. Each had an intricate tattoo on the left side of the chest, with unique patterns. Lex was speaking “Gabriel, has the new guardian been selected?” “The seal always selects its own guardian. For now, we must attend to Farida.” responded Gabriel. He brought the object up to face level and continued “I have set up a barrier, now it is safe to activate your seals.” Then he began to recite

Out of the east

Out of Eden

Four flow as one

One parts into four

Baruch, Baruch

Arise and flow

Then each man clasped their hands together. BenZahr said “Gihon!” Lex exclaimed “Pishon!” followed by Eldad’s “Tigris!” As each man spoke, streams of light began to appear from the tattoos on their chests. Each lost their earthly clothes, as they became clad in flaming white armor. Then Gabriel spoke the name of the last seal “Euphrates”. As he did, his garments changed into fiery white armor, even brighter than that of the other men, and then great white wings unfurled on his back. From within his garments, he produced the Keystone and placed it at the center of the table. Then each of them proceeded to touch it with both hands. As the final hand touched it, there was a burst of the cool, energizing light from the Keystone, and then the portal opened. One final time, they carried their companion into heaven.

Where Are Our Cathedrals – By Dipo Adetuyi

Here’s something my friend Dipo Adetuyi sent in, and it spoke some of the thoughts I’ve had recently. Hope you enjoy, and don’t forget to check out his new in the market product, Bolero (read about it here ). Fingers crossed on Rekiya’s Tale, and lookout for tomorrow’s Friday Tot from me on Demola Rewaju’s blog.


Africa is blessed with immense natural resources! This statement has become a banner for the average African who still wants to believe in the ‘’African Dream’’ it’s unfortunate that the reality of this dream is a nightmare from which many cannot be woken.

  The African epidemic is a plethora of ailments and disease states, some acute and most very chronic. The maladies that plague us as a people are innumerable, however we still strive on and try to latch on to the utopian belief that it will all get better some day.

Well it might and it might not, our crystal ball is murky with lost dreams and severed hopes, we cannot have a clear look see into what the future exactly holds for us. When we read western magazines like Forbes or the economist, we have some succour. Figures that tell us that in 2020, Africa will rise to gain dominance in the FMCG or retail sector and we are overjoyed. The same article does not remind us that Africa has little or nothing to add to this ever growing retail sector.

Many of our FMCG (Fast moving consumer goods) are imported or distributed by conglomerates whose parent companies are not African born. The Bournvita, Indomie, Nutri-c, Hobnobs, Kellogs etc aren’t African products. So we are still being colonized by the west and yet we claim to be an independent continent.

Africa is a cheap imitation of the west and like most attempts at plagiarism, the culprit always fails. We teach our children the western way, we dress, eat and have even adopted western illnesses.  Our music is very westernized and yet even though it has given us some wide acclaim internationally, we cannot say it belongs to us.

I had the opportunity to play some Nigerian music for an Arab friend sometime last year and he scoffed at its similarity to American hip-hop, where is the integrity? And the uniqueness he said. Where are the Fela’s and the Yossou N’Dour’s of our time, where are the pace-setters?

No doubt the western way of life brings its own inherent comforts and blessings but at what cost? Like selling our birthright for a bowl of porridge, we have sold our identity our culture and our heritage. In Europe, the skies are blazoned with cathedrals and the roads are filled with history. The amazing ability to preserve history is uncanny and yet we haven’t adopted this very important aspect of their lives. The fashion brand FENDI spent $2.2million to restore the Fontana De Trevi (Trevi Fountain) in Rome just so the legacy is maintained; yes they may have gotten tax cuts and all but it all about leaving the legacy. The Eiffel tower attracts 4millionm visitors per year and it has been maintained every since it was built, the rivets are still in place, all the bolts and nuts and screws are intact.

Where are our cathedrals? In 20 years what history will we tell our children? The stories of Sango and Obatala are hardly taught in schools. The allegories of Awolowo and Azikwe are all but lost in the dark shadows of western education. Our schools have lost their way, I’m 29years old and I know more about the American civil war and World War 2 than I do about the Nigerian civil war. Yes you could argue that Google and Wikipedia are available but what stories will I tell my children? What historical landmark has been preserved for them to visit and experience?

Where is the legacy? We spend billions of dollars to build bridges but our museums are derelict and our history is being eroded, a people without a history are an empty race. Let’s learn from the czars and kings of old, let’s preserve our monuments, let’s make our history relevant again. Let’s learn so we can avoid past mistakes, let’s rebuild our cathedrals, let’s regain our relevance!

Miracle’s Manhood

Here’s a short story I wrote a while ago for the Oyo State Ministry of Women Affairs. I’ll do one more short story next week, and then we begin Rekiya’s Tale. Enjoy.


miracle's manhood

Sunday – 9:00a.m.

Elder Lai Oluwadare surveyed the attentive church before him. A devoted man, he was one year shy of fifty. He had been Laiwola Fadare, but when the religious fervor had swept over him years ago, he had changed his surname to remove the association with Ifa and replaced it with Oluwa. He had been the Sunday School superintendent for the church for five years now. Sundays were his best day of the week, and he made sure he dressed the part, ditching his weekday suits for starched white kaftans. On weekdays, he was on the grind of work, as a middle level manager in an insurance firm. He hated the job – he was too low level as a manager to enjoy the full perks of being an oga  but not low enough not to receive “shredding” from the top guys. He was also too high up to be on the road, whiling away time in the name of selling. He was insignificant and really just one of the many. But on Sunday, he was transformed into an important church official. He commanded the pulpit for one hour during Sunday School and had the undivided attention of the church. They listened to him, as he expounded from the pamphlet he was a contributor to. Here, he was not an insignificant employee number, but commanded respect.

Right now, he was responding to a question “according to the scriptures, husbands must love their wives as Christ loves the church. Wives must also submit to…”

He suddenly felt a searing pain hit him from the back, as if directly in his brain. He turned around to see what it was.

“Miracle, what are you doing here?” he asked the burly teenager standing in front of him.

“Daddy, today, your hypocrisy ends. Everyone will know you for what you truly are,” the boy responded.

It was then Lai saw the bloodied knife in Miracle’s hand. His eyes opened wide in confusion until his brain deciphered what had happened. But it was not fast enough, as the boy plunged the knife into his left breast repeatedly. The white kaftan he was wearing became covered in blood. For moments, the whole church was in shock as everyone was transfixed to their seats, watching the son assault his father with clear intent to kill.

Then the ushers raced to the stage and overpowered the boy.

 Saturday – 2:00p.m.

Miracle was very happy. It was his thirteenth birthday, he was finally a teenager. He had watched with longing, as people they had been in children’s church together reached the big thirteen and left for the teenager’s fellowship. The teenagers did all sorts of interesting stuff, they even went on camps where they were all alone, all by themselves. Today, the members of the fellowship had come to his house to welcome him into their fold.

He felt very proud when the Teenager’s Counselor, Uncle Jolomi stood up to address him

“Miracle, today you have reached the magical teenage years. Hormones will rage, but we will be here to support you. You will meet new people, under new pressures, but we will be here to guide you. You will have greater responsibilities, but we will be here to help you. The teenagers you see here will share with you, will help you, and need your help.” And then with a smile, he said “oh, and you are now the man of the house, so it’s your job to protect your mum and your younger sisters now. Don’t shirk that responsibility o!”

Everyone laughed, but Miracle took everything to heart.

Saturday – 9:00p.m.

One of the perks of now being a teenager was that his bedtime was now 10:00p.m. unlike that for his sisters which was pegged at 9:00p.m. by his mum.

So he was in the living room playing angry birds on the new iPad mini his uncle had given him for his birthday happily enjoying the extra hour he had to leave the lights on and stay awake. He knew his sisters would be asleep already by now and he was indeed beginning to yawn. It would seem his body had not adjusted fully to being awake for an extra hour, in spite of his joy at it. Or maybe it was all the fun of the day, he tried to tell himself.

He was already dozing off, when he began to hear the sounds. They were unclear and muffled, but there all the same. So he got up to investigate. After all, he was now a man, just like his dad.

When he stepped out of his room, he first checked his sisters. Their parents had the rule that room doors must be left unlocked so he opened the door and sure enough, they were tucked into bed, like the good little girls they were. He chuckled at the thought, and then shut the door gently. It was dead quiet in the room.

The living room separated his parents’ room from the children’s rooms so he entered it first, not bothering to turn the lights on. He could walk through the house in pitch darkness anyway, so the lights were not needed.

The moment he got into the living room, the sounds became discernibly louder immediately, and it was obvious they were coming from his parents’ room. The recently confident young man became suddenly unsure of himself. His dad had given them express instructions not to come to their room once it was past 9:00pm and he had been very stern about it. Before today, Miracle would have been asleep by this time anyway, so he had never had course to go to his parents’ room after that time. And he would have turned around, but the sounds he was hearing drew him in. It brought back memories of Wednesday in school when like five boys in his class had been huddled together over something in a corner of the playground. He had gone to see what they were looking at. They had tried to hide what they had been watching on the phone one of them must have smuggled into school, but they were not fast enough and he had seen the phone. After he threatened to report them, they had allowed him watch the video. He had spent the rest of the day feeling guilty and had asked for forgiveness when he said his prayers that night.

Now these sounds brought back those memories and he found himself drawn to the room.

He got to the door and opened it lightly. He expected his father to shout at him at any time but heard nothing. He peered into the room and saw on the big forty two inch TV images reminiscent of those he had seen on the small phone screen days before. Now that he was in the room, the moans of the actors on screen were loud and clear, as they got turned and twisted different ways by their partners on screen.

He heard his mother protesting “Lai, this is not right; you are an elder in the church for God’s sake. You have to stop this and speak with the pastor for counseling. Miracle is old enough and…”

The slap sent her reeling backwards onto the bed. “Will you shut up woman, and learn.”

Miracle nearly jumped back in a start. He had never seen his father hit his mother. Now, all the black eyes she had in the mornings, the bruises she told them was because she clumsily ran into stuff came to mind. And he realized that she had lied to them all these years. He had been secretly beating her. The reason they were banned from coming out at night became clear.

As the performers on the screen became progressively more violent, he watched in horror and his father jumped on his mother and begin to lash out at her with his fists. The light from the TV in the dark room made the expression on his father’s face look crazed, as if he was possessed by a new spirit that seemed to take delight in the sounds his fists made when they connected with his mother’s body. And she just lay down there, not doing anything, not protesting, just allowing him to hit her like that.

Suddenly, as the moaning from the TV seemed to go to another level, his father began to rip off the flimsy nightwear his mum was wearing. It was too much for Miracle to watch. He ran into his room crying. His picture perfect world had just been shattered. How could daddy be doing that to mummy? Wasn’t he the one that said all those things at family devotion, and whenever they had combined Sunday School in church? Daddy had been lying to him, and the whole church. Then he remembered Uncle Jolomi’s words. He was a man now, and had to protect his mum and his sisters. “Everyone will know,” he cried to himself as the plan of what he would do formed in his mind.

 Sunday – 9:15a.m.

“Miracle! Why did you do this?” Pastor Samson shouted at the boy who refused to say anything until his mother was brought in. she was a member of the children’s department and they had to rush and bring her into the main church auditorium.

She came tearing onto the stage, “what happened?” she was shouting as she came up.

The moment her eyes fell on her husband, bloodied up on the floor, she became hysterical. “Somebody tell me what happened! Somebody call in an ambulance, yepa! I am finished!”

“I did it,” Miracle stepped forward from the pastor’s side and spoke calmly.

“Miracle, why? Why did you try to kill your father?” she asked, the tears flowing freely from her face.

“I saw what he did to you last night,” he responded.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and tore at her hair. She fell into a seat. “I’m finished, oh God, why?”

The sirens announced the arrival of the police.