Archive | September 2013

Burnt – Episode 4

Here’s the 4th Episode of Burnt. You can read the 3rd Episode HERE 



Donald returned to a quiet house. The last few days had been super stressful, with his company’s ongoing acquisition of the fourth largest CDMA network in the country. It was his thought that data was the key to making money from telecoms in the future, and he was about to put his money where his mouth was. In other saner places, the acquisition would have been a straightforward business transaction. But in Nigeria, as usual, it was a different ballgame entirely, with political, regional and all other nonsense undertones. He knew he would be getting home too late to see the girls now, so he decided to make a quick stop in their room and just look at them before heading across the gym to their own room. It would turn out to be one of the most fateful decisions he would ever make.

The moment he opened the door, he sensed that something was not right. He felt around for the switch and turned the lights on. He took two quick strides into the room and saw Inya shaking, with Oyiza sleeping peacefully by her side. Quickly, he picked her up and got her seating with her back against the wall. He started shouting “Hajara! Hajara!” she didn’t respond, she probably didn’t hear him. He was torn between leaving the girl shaking here and going to get the inhaler in his room or not.

Thankfully, he remembered the intercom they had installed in the girls’ room and taught them to use once it was past their bedtime and they needed to talk to mummy or daddy. It had been his idea. He picked it up and dialed his room. Hajara picked up on the second ring.

“Hajara, get the inhaler and meet me in the girls’ room now!” he ordered, skipping any pleasantries.

He had barely dropped the phone when the door opened. That was fast, he thought. Then he looked up and saw it was Idris, wearing just shorts and a singlet.

“Uncle, is anything the matter? I heard you shouting now,” he asked.

“Inya is having an attack!” Donald said, and Idris’ eyes went to the wall where Inya was backed up against. By now, Oyiza had woken up. Of course she had been awake when her father had come in but she pretended to be asleep. With all this commotion though, she couldn’t act asleep any longer without raising any suspicion. She got up, rubbing her eyes and asked “what is it, why is everyone here?”

“Your sister is having an attack,” Donald answered. “Ow!” Oyiza remarked, feigning as much surprise as she could manage.

“Where the hell is this woman?” Donald bellowed.

Idris got up to go and check on her but just as he got to the door, it swung open unexpectedly, hitting him in the face and sending him reeling backwards onto the floor. An onrushing Hajara practically climbed over him mumbling apologies. She rushed the Ventolin inhaler to the child, carrying her as she administered it. As Idris gathered himself off the floor, his eyes caught something gleaming under Oyiza’s covers.

Donald was already dialing the doctor’s number. If the inhaler didn’t work, they would have to get her to the hospital and get the drugs administered intravenously. He hoped it wouldn’t get to that.

Twenty minutes later, Inya had become stable and everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief. Donald insisted that she come and join them in the master bedroom so they could watch over her for the night. One by one, everyone left the room, leaving Oyiza alone. The circus was leaving, she thought, as she settled into the bed to sleep. She didn’t bother to turn the lights out, she could sleep with them on. She felt so alone already. Turning the lights out would only make it even worse.

As she began to doze off, she heard the door open. She wondered who had come back for her. Maybe they would come to ask her too to come and sleep in mummy and daddy’s room. She really wanted to, but no one had asked her. It was only Uncle Idris. She flopped back into the bed as he took a seat beside her.

“Inya stole Brian from you shay?” Idris asked.

“She always steals everyone from me. Everyone!” Oyiza found herself saying with more vehemence than she meant to let off. The resentment she always tried to deny she felt was beginning to boil over now.

“Even your mummy and daddy?” Idris asked, leading her on.

“See the way they have taken her to be with them and left only me here. It’s always Inya Inya Inya Inya! Do they even want me Uncle?”

“But isn’t Uncle Idris always there for you? Am I not the one that has come to stay with you even now when all the others have left to follow Inya?” he asked.

She thought for a few moments and then nodded “yes uncle, you are always there. Always, always.” She smiled a little.

He lifted her up and put her on his laps. “Unlike everyone else, I’ll always be your friend. I’m never going to leave with Inya, I’ll always be there for you.”

Oyiza liked this. She snuggled up to uncle Idris, wishing daddy or mummy would rock her like this, the way they had rocked Inya minutes ago. Her eyes were closed and she was falling asleep when she felt something creep between her legs. Instantly, she was awake and it was then she saw Uncle Idris hands inside her pajamas. She immediately jumped up from his laps.

“Uncle, why are you touching me there? It is bad for you to touch me there.” Her eyes were now wide open.

“What is the problem?” Idris said, livid. “Don’t I touch you there when I’m bathing you?”

“That is different uncle, you are not bathing me now,” Oyiza said with as much firmness as she could muster.

“So you want to be finally alone? Everyone always leaves you. Do you want me to leave you too? You will be a lonely, lonely little girl when I’m no longer your friend.”

“But you were my friend before Uncle, and you never touched me like that. Why do you have to touch me to be my friend now?” Oyiza asked, puzzled.

Idris hadn’t thought she would have clear logic as strong as that. He groped around in his mind for a valid comeback but found none. She got up and went to the door, about to leave the room. He quickly stood up and raced to the door to block it. Oyiza remembered things much better than Inya and she was much smarter at saying what she remembered in detail than Inya. He had no doubt that she would go straight to her parents, wake them up and tell them everything. If Inya also spoke up, he was a goner.

“Where are you going to?” he asked.

“I am going to mummy and daddy’s room, I want to go and sleep there.” Oyiza answered.

“And why don’t you want to sleep in your own room. They didn’t call you, did they? Weren’t you planning to sleep here before?” Idris asked, angry that this little girl was trying play coy and outsmart him.

“I just want to go uncle,” she responded, raising her voice.

Idris saw the unspoken threat. If she shouted loud enough for her parents to come, kasala would burst. He held her shoulders and said quietly “stop shouting!”

Ignoring him, Oyiza said even louder “Uncle you’re hurting me. Let me go!”

In times of desperation, ideas flash through one’s mind at super speed. Idris was desperate and his mind groped for something to shut his niece up. His mind flashed through all those episodes of Crime and Investigation he had watched where people committed murders in situations like this just to shut people up and solve the immediate problem. They always ended up creating bigger problems for themselves and he was ashamed he even allowed the thought of killing his niece creep into his mind. He discarded the thought and many others raced through his mind, until he remembered something he had seen earlier. His frenetic mind made the connections quicker than it would have if he hadn’t been desperate and he knew he had struck gold.

“I know your little secret,” Idris said to her as he fell on one knee to be at eyelevel with her.

Her eyes shifted and his suspicion was confirmed. She indeed had that secret.

“What? Which secret?” she asked, her voice considerably lowered.

“How did Inya’s asthma attack start today?” Idris asked jeeringly.

“Everybody knows Inya’s asthma can come anytime,” Oyiza said, flustered. If she had been any older, she would have done a much better job at hiding what was going on inside her. But at eight, all those types of wiles were yet to be developed. Idris read her like an open book.

He simply stood up and walked to the bed and pulled out the can of insecticide from under her sheets. She ran up to him and tried to snatch it out of his hands but he held it out of her reach.

“I saw what you did. I saw everything. You used this to cause Inya’s attack while she was sleeping, because of Brian!” he said. From her reaction, he knew his guess was correct. She held her head down, as good as if she had said yes.

Idris smiled lasciviously and sat back on the bed.

“But Uncle Idris is your friend, and he won’t tell on you. He’s not like everybody else who wants to hurt you. He just needs you to be a good girl and nobody will hear your secret.”

Oyiza looked up, shy and defeated.

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise, promise!” Idris said emphatically, crossing his heart.

She stood where she was, fidgeting until Idris tapped his laps and said “come and sit here.”

She obeyed and walked up to him gingerly. He lifted her up to his laps and began to reach into her pajamas again. She closed her eyes and tried to shut everything else out.

The house was extremely quiet; otherwise Idris would not have heard it on time. Before he could reach into her panties, he heard a sound of someone approaching. He surveyed the room. “Shit!” he exclaimed and Oyiza opened her eyes. “What?” she said, glad for whatever had given her respite. He dumped her on the bed and looked around the room like a hungry animal. The door began to creak open. He looked to the bathroom, but realized he couldn’t get there quickly enough before the door opened so he fell heavily to the ground and rolled under the bed, pulling the sheets down to cover the side he was.

He heard Donald speaking with Oyiza. His teeth were almost chattering. “I should have stayed out and let him see me. Then I would have been able to explain myself. But if he finds me under the bed, it will be so damning that it won’t be explainable,” he thought to himself. He hoped that Oyiza would shut her mouth.

“Zaza, you haven’t slept?” Donald said.

“I couldn’t sleep daddy, I was worried about Inya,” she said.

“Why didn’t you come over to stay with her then,” Donald quizzed.

“Because you and mummy didn’t ask me to come along. I thought I should stay back since I wasn’t called,” Oyiza responded.

“Zaza, you should have come if you wanted to. You didn’t have to wait to be called,” Donald said.

“Really daddy?” Oyiza said, sounding very happy. To Idris, it was because she could leave the room with her dad that she was happy. In reality, the little girl was happy because she had discovered that she didn’t have to ask or be called to be a part of her family. She was a part of it already and she should just live it.

Idris let out a sigh of relief when he heard the door close and the room became quiet. He waited for another five minutes before rolling out from under the bed and making his way quietly to his own room in the darkness. He hoped the leverage the insecticide gave him over Oyiza was enough to keep her mouth shut.


The Education Chasm

Here’s my Friday Tot for today. Ponder.



Africa is far behind the world in virtually all the indices that matter. This has not always been so. I did a quick scan of Europe before the year 1000 and compared to the existing African societies of that time. There was not much of a difference in the level of technology (especially evident in weaponry), the quality of life of the people and the level of bloodshed and warfare going on. However, from around the 12th century, a divide began to appear.

The greatest collection of books since the destruction of the Library of Alexandria was found in the Sankore University in Timbuktu before the 12th century. However, this university was more of an exception in Africa, and there was no formal way of passing on accumulated higher knowledge to the next generation of scholars in Africa. The first wave of universities in Europe appeared around the same time the Timbuktu University was founded – in the early 1000s. Between 1000 and 1300, there were fourteen universities started in Europe as opposed to the one in Africa. It is not surprising therefore that the first Renaissance in Europe started in the 12th Century, whereas there was no such thing in Africa.

A Renaissance basically involves the explosion of new knowledge in science, governance, the arts and other spheres of living that generally lifts the standard of living and the productive capacity of a people. Hence, there is usually a direct correlation between them and the flourishing of learning centers. The next renaissance in Europe started in the 14th century and lasted till the 17th century. It is not surprising that between 1400 and 1500 in Europe, forty universities were founded. In Africa, we still retained our single one in Timbuktu. It will not be surprising to the observant reader that the Renaissance started in Italy because fifteen of the fifty universities founded in this 700year period were in Italy.

By the 17th century, the gulf between Africa and Europe was even greater. But this was not the end. The accumulation of the wealth of practical knowledge in Europe for a 700year period from 1000 to 1700 culminated in the Industrial Revolution which began in 1760 in England. By this time, Europe had left Africa in the dust of ignorance, and we haven’t been able to catch up. It is one of the reasons why Africa is usually the last to get integrated into most things that the rest of the world has begun to take for granted. It is the reason degrees from Nigerian university aren’t recognized in many parts of the world.

The Asians learnt this lesson well, and were more interested in knowledge espionage from the West than anything else, sending their professors to camouflage as houseboys for erudite western professors in order to understudy them and get the precious knowledge.

We sadly are yet to understand that this is the genesis of our lagging behind the rest of the world today. We simply do not place a premium on education in Africa in general and in Nigeria in particular. Our curriculum, faulty from the start (designed by colonial masters to produce low level workers) has barely evolved since then; it is a disgrace. When our young people graduate, it is with zero knowledge that is applicable to the real world in most cases. There is a huge disconnect between what is taught in schools in Africa and what the real society needs. Rarely do African universities solve real world African or world problems through research. Even our ancient University of Timbuktu of the 1000s was better than us in this regards. In those days, the Mansa of Mali would give the Islamic scholars in the university practical problems from ancient Malian society and the higher level students were given this as assignments which they then proffered solutions for, which their faculty would then present to the king. How many universities in Nigeria mirror such? How much of our budget goes to education? Why can we not pluck the low-hanging fruit of reviewing our curricula, from primary to tertiary levels to reflect current realities and actually equip students with knowledge that is applicable to society? Why don’t we recognize the value of our teachers on all levels and pay them accordingly? We should insist that the children of all those who have a responsibility for education directly or indirectly attend schools in Nigeria, not private schools, but public schools.

What is saddest is that this is not affecting only our now, but our future. As long as education is at the level it is, who exactly are we training to compete in a world that will continually to be super competitive as the years go by?

It doesn’t matter how many motivational conferences, Africa Rising conferences and so on we do, if our education in Africa remains as it is, the chasm with the rest of the world will only get wider.

ff @tundeleye on twitter

How I Got Revenge on My Cheating Wife 4

Here’s the Final Episode of Dimeji Ojo’s interesting series. Read Episode 3 HERE. Another writer’s short series features from next week. You can get Dimeji’s debut novel Monitored at Terakulture. Follow him on twitter @iStalkWriters and read his writing online at 



I had her skirt hiked up around her waist, her panties, bra and shirt flung to the far corners of the room, as the head slipped past her lower lips she clutched me. Hard. Harder even than when she had climaxed earlier. I pulled back a bit and repeated the partial entry.  Her face was contorted.  She said her first words; ‘Fuck Me’ I didn’t.  I could hear telltale sounds of fresh lovemaking from the next room.  I buried my lips next to her ear.

‘What did you say?’ She repeated herself.  I slid an inch forward. Then out again.  Who? I asked.  Who? When she said my name it sounded better than I could have ever hoped. I slid all the way in and said ‘Louder’.  With each thrust her voice rose and every time I pulled back, I repeated myself.  It had become a battle of sounds now, they had gotten louder, and I knew they had heard us, I was satisfied.  As she came, she gave an extra treat, she screamed my name and surname this time, at the top of her lungs.

Instantly, the lovemaking in the next room ceased, I smiled as she fell asleep with her head on my chest.   My wife called.  I told her how lonely it was in Lagos and sent a picture of myself in an empty hotel room. There were no sounds from the other room all night.

In the morning, the lover’s wife was distraught.  He didn’t deserve her.  I had us packed and ready to go then I sent my wife a message, I had just landed and I was in a taxi on the way home and that I hoped she had packed, the flight for Ghana was scheduled to leave at noon. I listened hard.  When their door opened, I opened ours and stepped out.  He saw me first, and then his wife.  I could see all three of them go through the emotions.  Self-righteous rage, confusion and then slowly, understanding.

He knew now that it was his wife who had screamed my name and that we had heard them as well.  She knew now that I had lied to her and slept with her best friend’s wife and that I had caught her cheating.  The lover’s wife only knew that she had been unfaithful and that her husband had been as well.  His business trips suddenly made sense.

The one thing none of them knew was that I was not as shocked or outraged as they were.  I smiled and pulled the envelope with the divorce papers out of my bag.  I handed them to her and walked out.  When her lawyer tried to apply for settlement, I told the Court I had nothing.   I had donated all our property to a Ghanaian charity.  All bank accounts had been cleared out leaving barely enough to survive for 2 weeks.  There was nothing to be done, the property wasn’t mine anymore.

When the divorce became final, I raised some money from my friends and found the next flight to Ghana.  She was broke and so was her lover.  His wife had kicked him out.  They could have been broke together but even that was not on the cards.  It turned out he preferred his wife, mine was just a good lay.  She wouldn’t have him back but he dumped my wife to show her he had changed.

When I arrived at the office of the charity I had set up for this purpose, I presented the second document to its manager.  He signed.

I was free and with all of my wealth, minus a cheating wife and 10% of the net worth which went to the Charity.   My lawyer had said they could only touch property acquired during our marriage, I sold it all.  He said funds in my name would be subject, I gave it all away.  When I got it back the marriage had been dissolved, she was not entitled.  It was perfectly legal.

I know what you are thinking.  I lied to my wife, I stalked her, I involved another innocent woman, led her on for months.  Well, not exactly, I did write the book.  I documented the discovery, the stalking, the plan and its execution.  It hit the shelves a week ago in all my distribution zones and was an instant bestseller in all of them.

I didn’t stab my wife and her lover when I saw them in my pool, that would have been foolish.  I waited over a year but I ruined their lives.  I bought myself a new home in Maitama, a few cars as well, the success of the new book covered my tracks.

My new home is large and luxurious, I had the pool cemented over the day I moved in, on rough nights I walk out onto my balcony and look at the solid grey slab that used to be filled with clear blue water and then I go back to bed and sleep like a baby

Baba Risi’s Court – Head and Tail

Brand new episode of Baba Risi’s Court… Enjoy.


Fishantic Bad

Baba Risi surveyed the courtroom. Politics money is good o, it is not struggle money like all these car park dues, returns from agberos on the road and gate takings in the court. He had renovated the room and changed the chairs from the old mix and mash ones to new sparkling white plastic chairs. His own chair and table were now executive chairs, the type all those bank ogas put in their offices. “Why I no think of this politics thing since o,” he mumbled out loud to himself.

He tapped the clerk and signaled him to call the next case. Rosco was not around today as he had gone to Ijebu to prepare for the party to “turn” his mother’s corpse over in her grave. Baba Risi was leaving after today’s cases for the party. No matter how much money was coming from the politics, he was not one to waste any source of income. If there was money to be made by opening the doors of the court today before heading to Ijebu, he was not losing it.

A familiar young man stormed forward as his case was called. He was very small and Baba Risi remembered him well. Just a week ago, they had been at his wedding, dancing kolybo music late into the night. The woman he had married that day was right behind him. It was funny that the smallest of men seemed to delight in getting the largest of women. She wasn’t fat, she was large. Baba Risi had oftened wondered how they did the do.

“Shanko,” he said, addressing the young man, “wetin happen? You no suppose still dey enjoy the market wey you just buy? No be fresh husband like you suppose dey here now.”

“Na this woman o. She no wan know say na me be man for house. If I like something, she suppose help me like am.” Shanko responded.

“Ngbo, madam, wetin happen?” Baba Risi asked the woman.

“Thank you o, Baba Risi. This man en, na so so complain. I cook as I don dey cook before I marry am, as my mama dey cook am and as she teach me, na complain he go dey complain. I don tire.” She responded.

“Gladys sharrap!” Shanko said, making sure he was out the reach of his wife. Baba Risi sensed he would not dare talk to her like that behind closed doors.

“En en, me sharrap abi?” she said menacingly and Shanko cowered. Baba Risi nearly burst out laughing but restrained himself.

“Shanko, wetin happen gangan?” Baba Risi asked.

“When my wife wan cook fish, she go cut the head and the tailfin commot. And when dem fry fish, na the part wey I like pass be that tailfin and the head. I don tell am once before, but today, when she serve the fish again, no tailfin, no head. I no gree o!”

The courtroom burst into laughter at how pained Shanko sounded over the matter. Small men can be oversensitive sha.

“Ngbo Gladys, why you no wan give your husband head and tail of fish now?” Baba Risi asked, the laughter at the edge of his voice.

“No be so I dey cook am. For my house, we dey commot the bony part of head and the tailfin. E no good for food, so we dey commot am.” Gladys said firmly.

“An an, but if na wetin your husband want nko?” Baba Risi asked.

“No be so I sabi cook my own. E no good for food, e go spoil the food.”

“Stubborn woman,” Shanko growled.

She eyed him but didn’t move. No be here she go handle him matter.

“Where you hear say fish head and tailfin dey spoil food? Me I dey chop am well well now.” Baba Risi asked Gladys, curious.

“Tell am o!” Shanko again interjected. Niggling little man, Baba Risi thought.

“Na my mama, make we even call am now, she go tell una.” With that, Gladys whipped her phone out and dialed her mother’s number. She put the phone on speaker and placed it on Baba Risi’s shiny new table.

“Mama, migwuo.” She said.

Her mum’s voice came through loud and clear as the courtroom hushed to hear “Gladim. How are you and that your husband?”

From the way she said “your husband”, it was clear what she thought of her daughter’s husband. “Mama, he dey hear you as you dey talk so o.”

“So na like this you dey talk about your daughter husband abi?” Baba Risi chided.

“Who be this, Gladys?” the mum asked.

“This na Baba Risi, and if to say you dey here for my court, I for don deal with you now now. Ngbo, your daughter said you said head of fish and tailfin no good for soup, say na why she no dey cook am for her husband when he ask for am. Abeg, how e no take good o?” he responded.

The obviously subdued Mama Gladys responded, “na so my own mama teach me to cook am from when I small, so na so me sef teach my daughter.”

Baba Risi addressed Gladys “You see yourself? Something wey both of una no know the reason, you dey deny your husband. Stubborn for nothing.”

“Tell am o!” Shanko said again.

Irritated, Baba Risi turned to him and said “and you sharrap! Na this kain small thing you carry come court. You sure say you don ready to be man of the house like this?”

“No rush Mr. Judge to dey harass my daughter. My mama dey here now, she go fit tell us why the head of fish and tailfin no good for soup.” Mama Gladys said.

“Hmm, oya bring am come phone make we hear,” Baba Risi commanded.

There was a brief pause and then a replica of Mama Gladys’ voice, only shakier with age, came on the phone.

“Oreva, how u dey o. How your oga?” Grandma said.

Shanko beamed where he was and shouted “Mama migwuo o. I dey hear well well.” He clearly liked being called oga.

“You en, dey do anyhow for public. Shebi we go go house,” Gladys said to her husband. Baba Risi would have querried her but Shanko was just an annoying little man. Maybe it was good that he feared his wife. Baba Risi ignored them and asked the grandma. “Mama, abeg wetin be the reason wey dem no dey cook head of fish and tailfin o. Gladys no know, her mama wey teach am no know, so we say make we ask you wey teach the mama. Abi you sef no know ni?”

The old woman gave a cackle, and then answered “oga, no be so o. the reason wey I no dey cook head of fish and tailfin simple well well.”

Everyone in the courtroom strained to hear the explanation.

“when I small, the fish wey we dey catch big well well, pass the ones wey una dey see for market today. And our frying pan small pass the ones wey una get. So when we wan fry the fish, make e fit enter the frying pan well well, we go cut the bony part of the head and the tailfin commot. E go fit enter the oil, fry well well. That is all o.”

Baba Risi couldn’t hold himself any longer and burst out laughing. The whole court followed suit. Gladys was thoroughly embarrassed, but she kept a straight face, while Shanko was gloating in his corner.

“Gladys, you don hear. Abeg, go house, go cook head of fish plus tailfin for your husband.”

Gladys turned to her husband and said with meaning “shebi we don finish for here. You don win, oya make we dey go house.”

Shanko shrank back in fear. He had won the case, but…

Baba Risi couldn’t stop laughing.


Burnt – Episode 3

There’ll be another Write Right soon. Much bigger than the 1st One. Read about the 1st one HERE

If its your 1st time on tlsplace, read Episode 1 of Burnt HERE and 2 HERE

Remember to follow the blog by clicking the “Follow and Recieve Notifications” button (on the sidebar for PC and below the comments for mobile devices) and supply your email. That way, you get automatic email notifications for each tlsplace post. Enjoy today’s Episode.


Oyiza was super excited about going to school today. After all, she was going to get to see Brian again. When they got into the car, Inya jumped into the front seat as usual but she couldn’t care less. Inya could have Uncle Idris all to herself for as long as she liked.

In the front, Idris debated internally on whether he should try to ask Inya on the ride. He decided that it wasn’t a good idea. Oyiza was known to be one who could repeat any conversation she had heard almost word for word if she wanted to. Even if Oyiza didn’t quite understand what they said, if she blurted out to his sister or her husband, they would surely decode it. He played loud music on the journey and drove as if he was in a hurry to get to their school on time. And he did. They arrived in the school about fifteen minutes earlier than usual and the school car park area was not yet as rowdy as it would be in a few minutes.

Immediately the car stopped and the pop sound informed the girls that he had unlatched the child lock, they threw the doors open, each for different reasons. Inya wanted to get away from Uncle Idris fast, and Oyiza simply couldn’t wait to see Brian. The way they bolted surprised Idris. He hadn’t been expecting them to leave so suddenly. Leaving the engine running, he undid his seatbelt and tumbled out of the car to try to catch Inya. Oyiza had already left her behind. Inya was asthmatic and she couldn’t keep up with her sister. Idris caught up with her in three quick bounds. For the first time since yesterday, they were alone.

He fell on one knee and came to the level of her face. She trembled all over, unable to still herself.

“Inya, why are you shaking? Are you afraid of me?” Idris asked

“No Uncle,” she managed to whisper in a small voice. Fear was good, Idris thought. He could use that. “Did you tell your mummy our little secret?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “Oh my God” he thought. Her hesitation meant she had said something.

“You couldn’t keep a secret. I’ll just ask Aisha to teach Oyiza herself so she can be the one that becomes Brian’s friend,” he said.

“I did not tell on you Uncle. But I don’t like this thing, it doesn’t make me feel pretty at all. I felt dirty,” she said.

“Do you think Aisha is dirty?” Idris asked her.

She shook her head vigorously. Aunty Aisha was always pretty just like Genevieve.

“Good, and she does that everytime, and even more. You try it with Brian and if he becomes your friend, I’ll teach you more to keep him if you want.”

Inya was confused. If what Uncle Idris was saying was true, then she just didn’t know again. There was only one way to be sure if what he was saying was true.

“So we are cool again, yeah?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Talk to me now, Inya,” Idris said beseechingly.

“Okay Uncle Idris.” She said and then raced away. Idris heaved a sigh of relief as he watched her go. That had gone well. He had established she hadn’t told anyone and he could manipulate her to keep it that way. He gathered himself together, got up and walked back to the car slowly.

When Inya got into the classroom, she spotted Oyiza playfully chatting away with Brian, looking all cheery. Jealousy welled up within her but she held her nose in the air and acted like she didn’t take any notice of them. When she got to her seat, she said hello to all her friends and they began to chat about the iCarly episode of the previous day on Nickelodeon.

“Brian is going to be our friend by the end of today.” Inya declared suddenly in the middle of their chit chat. The other four became quiet. They hadn’t forgotten how he embarrassed them the previous day.

Basirat spoke up “how are you so sure Inya?”

“Because Inya always gets what Inya wants. And Inya wants Brian to be our friend.” Inya responded. Then like a little general marshalling her troops, she began to dish out directives.

“Basirat, tell Kingsley he will be leaving his seat to go and be with Oyiza after break time.” Kingsley was the boy that sat next to Basirat and he would do what she asked. Inya turned to Charles and continued “Charles, you will help me go and tell Brian something. I will tell you quietly in your ear and you will tell him quietly too. No one else must hear it. After break time, we will change how we are sitting like this,” she pointed as she spoke to make it clear “so that I will be next to Brian when he comes to seat with us.”

They all didn’t move at first. Inya urged them on “go now, before Miss Kunat comes in”. That spurred them on and they all set about carrying out her instructions.

Oyiza watched Charles come and whisper something to Brian. She didn’t say anything about it. She didn’t want to do anything to make him angry, and she had seen her daddy get angry at her mummy at times when she asked many questions. She simply smiled and they continued talking until Miss Kunat came in and took the roll call. By the time they were doing social studies, she had forgotten about Charles’ whispering.

When it was break time, Brian escorted her to the playground and they went back to the swings, giggling. After a few moments, Kingsley came to call Brian. He said Miss Kunat was calling him. Oyiza thought the day over to see if they had done anything bad that would make their class teacher want to see Brian now. As if he read her thoughts, he said reassuringly “I’m sure it is something about my transfer. I’ll be right back.” Then he was gone. Oyiza had never felt so alone before. And she waited and waited, but Brian did not come back before the break was over. To her little mind, the fifteen minutes she waited till the end of the break time seemed like an eternity.


When Brian got to the classroom, it was empty. All the pupils were out for break and the teachers had gone to catch up on the latest gossip. In the corner at the back of the room, Inya stood. He went to her with a little scowl on his face.

“So what do you want?” he said with as much sternness as he could muster in his pre-puberty voice.

“I can give you something that your girlfriend cannot give you,” Inya said with a knowing smile as she moved closer.

“What is it? Let me see it,” he said skeptically.

“I’ll have to show you.” She responded. By now she was in front of him, transformed from the little girl to a manipulative woman by the knowledge she had while he lost all the manliness he was trying to put forward and became a little boy. Even before she did anything, she knew the tables were turned. She was now in the driver’s seat.

The male uniform was a shirt tucked into a pair of shorts. The waistband was elastic and did not require a belt. She easily pulled this down along with his underwear. He was nowhere near Uncle Idris in size. She could definitely get him to shake like he did. He tried to resist half-heartedly before he relaxed and fell into a chair. Then she really began. When he shook, she knew it was his first time. Uncle Idris was right. She had him in her power now and would be hers alone.


Oyiza walked slowly to the classroom after the break. She kept looking around as she went, expecting Brian to join her so she could walk into the class majestically with him by her side. It didn’t happen. She peeped into the staffroom to see if he was there. Miss Kunat wasn’t there and neither was Brian. They had probably rushed to the class after break, she reasoned.

When she got into the class, her eyes went straight to her seat. In place of Brian, she saw Kingsley seated beside her desk. She bounded over to him and demanded angrily

“Why are you sitting on Brian’s chair? Get up before he comes or I will report you to Miss Kunat!”

“It’s no longer Brian’s seat. He exchanged with me.”

Oyiza’s head immediately shot up and she looked towards Inya’s side of the class. She knew that was where Kingsley normally sat. He was one of those who wasn’t cute enough to be amongst Inya’s four but still hung on to them. Sure enough, Brian was there, right beside Inya. Kanayo had moved to Kingsley’s former seat and Brian had taken his own to Inya’s left. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. What had happened to “No! Never!” from yesterday? No wonder she had waited and waited. She knew immediately that the whole Miss Kunat is calling you thing was planned and that Brian had been in on the plan. It must have been what Charles had come to whisper to him in the morning. Hot tears welled up in her eyes. Inya had done it again; she had stolen the only friend Oyiza had. She began to walk angrily towards them when Miss Kunat walked in and said firmly “children, the break is over. All, to your seats and keep quiet for the next lesson.” She stopped in her tracks and turned back slowly. She had never felt so alone before in her life. In the space of twenty four hours, her little heart had fallen in love, and then had itself blown to smithereens.

Oyiza sat through the rest of school that day impatiently. The moment the closing bell rang and Miss Kunat left the classroom, she sped towards Inya’s corner. Ignoring all the other kids, she addressed Brian.

“Why did you lie to me? You did not go to Miss Kunat during break.”

Avoiding her gaze, Brian answered “I had to do something and didn’t want you to be there,” he blurted out.

“So you just left me alone? And now you have moved to this place to sit with them? You have left me alone!” she waved her hand around as she spoke, her little body shaking with the emotions she could not understand at that age.

When he didn’t answer, her eyes flashed and she continued “I did not ask you to be my friend. I was happy the way I was, and you came to make me think you would be my friend. Why? Why didn’t you just leave me alone? And now you have left me alone.” Then to Inya, she said “are you happy now?”

Then she turned away before the tears came. She would not let them have the pleasure of seeing her cry. She went back to the swings in the now deserted playground and let the tears come. They would soon come to get them. She dried her eyes and decided there and then that it would be the last time she cried because of anyone. They all just always left.


“Normalcy restored” was the first thought that came into Hajara’s mind when Inya was the boisterous one when she got home that evening. She quickly mentally corrected herself. “Where is your sister?” she asked Inya when Oyiza didn’t come to the door to greet her.

Inya pointed to the corner where Oyiza was curled up with a copy of her fairytale. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that she would have normally shut the book to greet her, but now totally acted like she hadn’t heard her come in.

“Oyiza, you won’t come and greet mummy?” she said.

This time, it was Inya that was dancing around the living room while Oyiza slammed the book closed angrily and letf the living room. Hajara was about to get angry and follow her to scold her when Idris quickly gave Hajara a rundown of how Brian had now decamped to Inya and how Oyiza was taking it. Hajara calmed down. She was glad that today, unlike yesterday, she would be here to be the one to comfort her daughter.

When she got to the room, the lights were turned out. She sat beside on the bed and lifted her sobbing daughter to her laps, rocking her back and forth, whispering soothing words to her. But Oyiza had already made her mind up. She would get back to Inya.


Now that they were alone, Inya told Idris about how she had tried the things with Brian and how he had been following her around like a puppy since then. When she was done, she asked him intently

“When do I learn more things?”

Idris was almost taken aback by the boldness with which she asked. She had gone from the shy and angry girl in the morning to an enthusiastic “student” now. He smiled that lascivious smile again and said “we will find a way to create your lesson time.”

Hajara walked in with Oyiza just as he was saying this and she smiled “someone is changing and is now interested in her lessons! Uncle Idris is a miracle worker.” She smiled.

Idris heaved a sigh of relief. That was close. He hadn’t heard Hajara come in, but he was glad she hadn’t heard the earlier parts of the conversation. He put on a plastic smile and said “yes o, she wants to be top of her class from now on and Uncle Idris has no choice but to help her.”

As they laughed, Oyiza’s little mind seethed. Even though mummy had promised to never leave her alone, the moment they came into the living room, it was as if they forgot she was there and the whole talk became about Inya. She would get back at her for always stealing everything to herself.

That night, after dinner, their mum tucked them in and Oyiza acted as if she was asleep. The moment her mum stepped out of the room, she checked to make sure Inya was really asleep. She was. She reached under the bed and retrieved the can of odorless insecticide she had brought into the room. She shook the can well as she had seen her mum do and then sprayed it directly over her asthmatic sister. It didn’t take two minutes before Inya woke up to a violent asthma attack.

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Dance of the Ants 2

To get a full sense of this piece, you’ll need to read the 1st Part —->> HERE 


ants dancing 2

For many moons, the SOLDIER-ants ruled, suspending dances and transferring power from one faction of SOLDIER-ants to the other through force, until the ants got tired of them and began to agitate.

One of the SOLDIER-ants was cunning. He took power from a stern faced SOLDIER-ant and tricked everyone into thinking he was different. He announced that there would be a great dance soon. The plan for the dance was long and convoluted, but everyone was happy that unlike his predecessor, he at least had a plan. All the ELEPH-ants and the GI-ants became excited. The sugar was about to be passed from the SOLDIER-ants to them. Finally, after many moons of waiting, they were about to get their chance at power again.

But this CUNNING-ant kept shifting the date for the dance. Finally, a new class of ants with fiery speech arose who did not mind being jailed. They were the COMPLAIN-ants and they became a thorn in the side of the ruling SOLDIER-ant. After one of them was killed suspiciously, they went into overdrive, and finally definite plans for the dance were finally announced. The former anthill based parties of the pre SOLDIER-ant years began to emerge under new names and the ELEPH-ants and GI-ants went into frenzy. The cunning SOLDIER-ant saw this and dissolved these parties. He then commanded all ants who had been ELEPH-ants or GI-ants before not to seek power in the dance. He also formed only two ant parties, to remove anthill affiliations. Quickly, a wealthy SYCOPH-ant who had always been very close to the SOLDIER-ants emerged as the front runner in the buildup to the dance. Normally, the COMPLAIN-ants would have kicked against him, but they were tired of the SOLDIER-ants and would take any ant in their place.

The dance came, and it was judged the best dance ever held in this tenement in the land called Dark. This wealthy SYCOPH-ant was adjudged the winner. But ghosts from his past haunted him. In his dealings with the SOLDIER-ants, he had stepped on the toes of many who were not from his anthill, and they threatened the CUNNING-ant if he announced the SYCOPH-ant as winner of the dance. He had also disrespectfully opposed the most prominent GI-ant from his anthill in the past and hence when his troubles started, the other leaders in his anthill weren’t willing to risk life and limb to claim his mandate. In public, they vibrated, but in private they said “that serves him right” for disparaging our great GI-ant with those ANTHILL OF THE SAVANNAH ants. To the shock of all the PEAS-ants of the winning SYCOPH-ant’s anthill, as well as the COMPLAIN-ants and even the SYCOPH-ant himself, his personal friend the CUNNING-ant nullified the dance and its results.

All hell broke loose. In the tenement where the SYCOPH-ant was from, ants turned their fangs on each other and it took the SOLDIER-ants killing a lot of the PEAS-ants there before things calmed down. But in the end, the CUNNING-ant had to step down for the most ridiculous government this Tenement has ever seen. In no time, a new SOLDIER-ant known as the TYR-ant who was the second most powerful ant in the government of the CUNNING-ant took power. He had risen to power after helping the CUNNING-ant suppress a revolt of SOLDIER-ants in the past. He was not a largesse type of SOLDIER-ant like his predecessor. He ruled through terror and tyranny, maintaining a team of ants that had scorpion-like ruthlessness to permanently silence every ant that spoke against him. Every ant from every anthill lived in fear of him. COMPLAIN-ants from the resource rich ANTHILL OF THE WATERSIDE were executed in spite of threats and pleas from within the Tenement and even from the Grasshoppers who had colonized them. He feared no one and most COMPLAIN-ants, ELEPH-ants, GI-ants, PEAS-ants and SOLDIER-ants shut their mouths and followed. Older SOLDIER-ants who thought themselves his seniors and untouchable were rounded up by his ruthless scorpions and killed. He locked the SYCOPH-ant who had won the previous dance up and that was it. For many moons, he ruled, until there were rumors amongst the ants that he was going after the only powerful SOLDIER-ant that was left outside his dungeons – the CUNNING-ant.

Whether by coincidence or by some devious design, while this scheme was brewing, the TY-rant died. Great was the rejoicing in the Tenement, and riding on the wave, a new SOLDIER-ant took over. It was expected that the SYCOPH-ant would be released, but this did not happen. His release would cause severe complications in the governance of the Tenement, and some time after the new SOLDIER-ant took power, he mysteriously died after taking some honeydew. Suspicion was rife, from the Grasshoppers to the SOLDIER-ants and all others in between. But unlike the earlier time when the dance was cancelled, the reactions were subdued. This new SOLDIER-ant seemed serious about returning governance to the ELEPH-ants and the GI-ants and rather than anger him, people watched. And that’s exactly what he did. A former SOLDIER-ant turned ELEPH-ant who had ruled before emerged from the dungeons of the TY-rant and was gifted the ruler-ship of the Tenement, as a compensation to his person and to his anthill, because he was from the same anthill as the SYCOPH-ant. The ants from the anthill that had dominated the Tenement since the independence from the Grasshoppers and the rule of SOLDIER-ants thought they would be able to control him easily. However, they were very, very wrong. Once in power, this SOLDIER-ELEPH-ant took charge and became his own ant. But trouble was lurking from where everyone was least expecting. For the ants from the ANTHILL OF THE WATERSIDE had not forgotten how they had produced the wealth of the Tenement at the expense of their anthill and had nothing to show for it. They had not forgotten how the peaceful COMPLAIN-ants from their anthill had been murdered by the now dead TY-rant. Rather than make their demands by peaceful means, they decided to follow a more violent path. In the rule of the SOLDIER-ELEPH-ant, the MILIT-ants began to rise.

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Outing The Boo

I shared this story at work today and nearly started World War 3. Oya, lemme see what tlsplacers say. 😀



Rolake was about to do it. For about five months, she had been in that under g kinda mode with Tope. But she was ready now, ready to proclaim him to the whole wide world. She had tested him in every way to see if he was serious and he had come out smelling like roses. She had even gotten her hot friend whom he didn’t know, Adefolaju, to flirt with him to see if he would fall. Lailai, he didn’t. She put up a picture as her twitter AVI for all her five thousand plus followers to see. Then she uploaded pictures on facebook and finally put the same AVI picture as her BBM display picture.

As she expected, the comments and gbeborun questions started pouring in. she had a good laugh answering each and every one of them and everyone congratulated her that Tope was a great catch. She felt on top of the world.

She had put the picture up at eight just as she got to work and met a bouquet of roses from Tope waiting for her. Now, six hours later, the Nigerian and UK gbeboruns were satisfied, the U.S and Canada gbeboruns just began waking up.

The contact named The Sexy Retard on her BBM but whose real name was Ranti pinged her. Ranti was her very close friend who relocated to Canada like six years ago. Of course, they were still close, but the time and distance had made them drift a little, so she didn’t share all the juicy details of her now with Ranti, especially after Ranti’s painful breakup with her boyfriend of two years, one Babs like that. Ranti was a coded kind of person who didn’t share any of Babs pictures on social media because she was a mini-celeb. But in private with Rolake, she shared all the details of her sex life with Babs, how he turned her, tied her, lifted her, pounded her, ate her, every single erotic detail.

She opened Ranti’s message and here’s what it said

“Rolake, why the hell are you putting up a picture of you and Babs and calling him your boo?”

It was then that it hit Rolake that Tope’s full first name was Babatope and he had mentioned at some point that he had been called Babs when he lived abroad.


If you were Rolake, would you go on with the relationship or call it off? If you are male, reverse the genders in the story and let’s know what you would do. This was fun at work today, so I’m dying to hear your thoughts. Vote and then drop a comment