Thursday, June 9, 2011

Where I belong

Where I belong

Dejected and isolated
I was ugly
Nobody loved me
I crawled
Everybody flew
They eat sweet juices
I was left with bitter vegetables
They basked in the sun
I hid in my cocoon.
“Be patient” I said
“Be patient with my beautiful imperfections”
They scoffed and laughed
I felt it within... my true beauty
I brooded, I cried
At last I slept, I died
I woke to fly.
With my wings spread, I flew
Above height, beyond expectations
I was the ugly caterpillar
Look at me now.... I’m a butterfly
Clothed in the prettiest dresses
Perfumed in flowers
Fed with red nectar.
Oh look, you ugly black moths wish
You wish you were me
Me, the ugly one.
Today I fly, far into the rainbows
Where I belong
To dine with my kind
Goodbye black moths


Friday, June 3, 2011

Hello yesterday

Hello yesterday
Where are you?
It was like a dream
A little nap, i woke,
And you were gone

Just like the day before.
I read the note you left on the wall
Nostalgia embraced me
Tears showed me
And regrets comforted me

Are you coming back?
Will I see you again?
Today is here with me now
We both are worried
We’re on a train to grave land

It’s almost midnight and soon
Tomorrow will be here
We both are nervous
Butterflies are partying in my tummy
Remember how we wished,
How we talked all night

Anticipating tomorrow
Will she be fair?
Will she be beautiful?
Will I be happy to meet her?

I know not…

Friday, April 22, 2011

My friends and I

This world is unfair and wicked, I spent my life living for others and in the end what do I get in return? NOTHING! Absolutely nothing! No reward, no appreciation No love. Human beings are ingrates. Right now I have no friends, no wife, no family and no place to rest my head.
Here is my story, According to my mother; I was born on a cold night. The very night I was born my people decided to occupy the whole fancy hospital, hotel and local guest house. My mother had no choice but to deliver me in a stinky manger. None of my people cared to visit, they were busy getting drunk on red wine, it was Passover. Instead strangers celebrated my birth and brought me gifts.
Teenage-hood was not so easy I grew up as a carpenter, trying to help my father support the family, I knew I was smart I could have even gone to school and become a scribe, a lawyer, or a teacher become rich, famous and popular but I choose not to be all that. I knew which stunt to pull to be adopted by the king as his son still I choose to be carpenter, of the low class. Hitting the hammer head hard on the stubborn Lebanese cider wood day and night, sweating and wishing for a better life.

Well I endured it all “such is life” as they’ll say. I grew up fast, turned out to be super smart and popular and people loved me (oh how I miss those days). I had haters too. But in the end I got friends I shared with them all that I had. Twelve of them knew me inside out, we went through up and downs just as normal friends.
I did no one any harm all I did was; save the dying, raise the dead, feed the hungry and save the lost. I just wanted them to love me and accept me, to thank me but they didn’t, they never did. My people hated me. Strangers even loved me more and gave me water at the well.

My haters were powerful, they wanted me dead. They were envious of my fame and power so they plotted to kill me; I wondered how they were my going to get me I was Innocent. It shocked me to know how easy it was. Just thirty pieces of silver and a petty kiss on the cheek sold me out. I was betrayed by my very own friend, who I dine and wine with.
I thought that was the end, my brothers rejected me, they choose Barnabas – a criminal over me, my enemies crowned me king, my best friend (my tightest Hommie) denied three times, THREE WHOLE TIMES!!!... My people spat me in the face, the same I hands I healed of paralysis stoned me. My friends deserted me and at last they crucified me, dehumanized me. I died a shameful death, Innocent me nailed as a criminal and while I was about to take my last breath I saw my friends who I had shared everything with pack their fishing net down the lake to resume their fishing job with no remorse or guilt. I was mourned by Strangers.

Thank God miraculously I came back to life after three days. Yes I did it’s called resurrection its spiritual. I forgave my friends and my enemies and till date I still forgive them. But the truth is that On that my death day I discovered who my true friends were and apart from Simeon who helped me carry my cross and my mother who watched me die slowly and felt every bit of my pain I had no friends.

It’s a pity I’m still a lonely man, begging for friendship and acceptance. Would you take me as you dearly beloveth friend, to love and to cherish, never to betray for cheap coins, to respect me and follow me all the days of your life? If yes, then call me now am alive.

Happy Easter

Yesu Christi

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Celebrity Reads Africa - 8th Edition

I will be there, and so will ECLIPSE and MELONY

Celebrity influence is a strong social tool; People tend to do whatever their Celebrity Idol say is cool. It won’t be a surprise if Michael Jackson fanatics set their hair ablaze at one point in their life. Mr. Bede Okoro has taken full advantage of this tool of influence.
Celebrity Reads Africa is an Initiative aimed to Encourage, Promote and Resurrect the dead reading culture of Nigerians and Africa at large. I once heard a saying “if you want to hide something away from a black man, hide it in a book”. Celebrity Reads Africa promotes Nigeria Literature, Celebrities from Different spheres where they gather for a public reading, and read a Chapter or Two from their favourite Nigerian book. This creates a hype which excites their fans and pushes them to Read and participate.

This initiative has been a full success all thanks to Mr. Bede Okoro and his team. Celebrity Reads has also been Hosted in Ghana too. This Edition will be here in Lagos, Nigeria and I am most excited about this Month’s Edition, the 8th Edition On the 30th of April at Terra Kulture - Nigerian Cultural Centre Plot 1376, Tiamiyu Savage Street, Victoria Island, Lagos.
Two of my favourite musicians will be there, LIVE. Thinking about it makes me want to fast forward time. I can’t wait to watch them perform ECLIPSE my Rap idol and MELONY the man with the platinum voice.
Readings will be done by:
Bisila Bokoko (Executive Director, Spain-United States Chamber of Commerce & Founder, Bisila Bokoko African Literacy Project)
Ali Baba (Ace Comedian/Doyen of Nigerian Comedy)
Sound Sultan (HipHop and R&B Singer/Recording Artiste)
Andre Blaze (Seasoned VeeJay/Entertainment TV Presenter)
Special Guest Authors:
Michael Afenfia (Writer/Author of the book 'When the moon caught fire')
Teresa Oyibo Ameh (Children Books Writer & Author of 5 bestselling Children Books)

And oh I guess I forgot to tell you there’d be light refreshment this edition indeed is power packed.
Please for your own good, don’t dare miss it… For me? I won’t miss it for anything in this world… I will listen, I will watch, I will laugh and I will sing along loud and clear to every lyrics of ECLIPSE, MELONY and SOUND SULTAN.
I will most definitely go with my camera I will take photos and I promise I’ll keep you posted.

See ya at Terra Kulture on the 30th.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The familiar Smell

Dear diary,

Pardon me for not updating lately; I’ve been very busy of recent, rehearsing my keys for my live performance with Asa. Today is a memorable day for me and i decided to myself that i must come tender you my story in shorthand.

Today makes it exactly one that I met Ifeanyi, i still remember vividly that very morning, i woke early and while i had breakfast i over heard Ellen DeGeneres talking on the television, excited about the coming holiday- St. Valentine’s day, she was talking about how valentine comes with magic. She spoke so convincingly i believed her i went to school that morning expectant i had been infected with Ellen’s excitement. I waited for the magic, but nothing came, nothing spectacular happened, nothing magical apart from a rather strong, strange smell in class, amidst all perfumes and scents in class i could perceive a difference, it was strong, it was manly, it was angry i loved it, it was a mystery for my nostrils to interpret, well a new boy joined our class that day.

The smell lingered. it lingered on for days, till the point, It even became my motivation for school, i loved it, memories of the smell followed me home, it kept me company. Days passed i never spoke with the new boy, though i knew he was the wearer of the perfume, i choose not to speak to him.

It was two days to valentine and i was wondering what all the vain noise was about, i wondered what a jailed disobedient prisoner had got to do with flowers and roses and candles and chocolates the thought was rather funny to me. Well i don’t believe in love, at least not in this world. Being born blind i have come to know life is not a fairytale where love exists, there’s no prince charming, there’s no fairy-god-mother and there’s no love.

All there is are just confused emotions of lust, attraction, desperation and pity. I am seventeen and all my life people always view me through the eyes of pity disguising it to be love, they are constantly trying to help and when they want to talk about me, they go through the stress of using the most polite of terms as “visual impairment” and other funny 10-15 lettered phrases where they can just say blind. They make the word ‘blind’ seem like a taboo. I’m sorry I’m drifting

Being blind gave me abilities those who can see do not possess, i smell lies, i know the tone of lies. Most times when i listen to people say “i love you” on the television or in reality i know when they are lying, in fact 99% of the times, my guesses are right.

Well dear diary this is the story of how i discovered the “unrealistic” 1% in the statement “i love you”

Llast year, on Valentine’s Day after i had made up my mind on not joining everybody in the madness, i decided to go the only place where madness was not found. I went to church, Sunday school children class to the precise. I spent my Valentine in church playing piano for the kids as they celebrated in the valentine service; i was told everyone was dressed in red apart from Windy who was dressed in black, the kids sang beautifully in A-minor, i remember playing my favourite songs including my favourite hymn “amazing grace” with that soul comforting line ‘once blind and now i see’.

After service while we parked up our instruments, something unbelievable happened, that familiar smell from school, that angry perfume saturated the air around me, i heard footsteps approach me from behind and then a tap on my shoulder saying “:hi, I’m Ifeanyi and i enjoyed your performance, you make magic with the piano” as i smiled beautifully and said “thank you Ifeanyi, my name is Ebere, it’s nice meeting you...” and before i could go further to confirm if he was the same “familiar smell” at school mom came and took me away it was time to go home.

The next day at school i came early waiting for the smell, yearning to tickle my nostrils. It didn’t come, two days passed and still it never came and on the third day i gave up hope. On that third day, After the first class which was-music class as i walked down the school hallway i perceived it, my pleasurable perfume, i reacted in joy, a few heartbeat skipped in excitement, the smell approached me and after it, came a comforting voice, saying “Excuse me please, where can i meet Ebere now, i need to meet with her”? And i speedily replied, “i am Ebere, is there a problem”? We sat and talked, i asked about his absence from school, he missed school for his eye checked up,

Till date i have not discovered what was with me and the perfume but all i know was that, i loved it and that it made me happy, Break time came that day and i spent it all with Ifeanyi, we talked about almost everything and we had a lot in common like : he prefers Pepsi to coke, he likes rock music, he loves the smell of dust in the rain, he wants to be a musician when he grows up, he had never been kissed and a whole lot more. We spent the break time in the music room and that day i discovered that “unrealistic 1%” i found love, i touched it, i spoke with it, we sang together. Ifeanyi’s voice was heavenly, i melted when we sang and played “Another day in paradise by Phil Collins” i remember how i fought the tears bursting through my dry eyes and how the more i fought the more it came running, rushing down my cheeks, dropping profusely on the piano keys. Music is my idea of heaven, since my imagination can’t phantom colours, i don’t know what the colour white looks like or gold or understand the idea of the cloud or what it looks like. That very day i went to heaven, i walked on the streets of gold, i danced in the clouds. Break time was over and i wished we never went back to class

After that day we became best of friends, my school, Rosa’s school for the blind became paradise for me, i found a reason to be happy, a reason to anticipate school, we always spent our free time together in the music room. Ifeanyi had low vision, he wasn’t fully blind, the condition developed after a severe illness the previous year, he always told me i smile beautifully, though everyone tells me that, his was different it sounded genuine, i was told i smiled the most, and the best in our family picture, Ifeanyi visits our house every weekend and we play the piano, we teach each other new stuff every day. All my life i had depended on other people’s judgement and opinions, i was told trees are green and roses are red and the oceans and skies are blue. I was told mirrors reflect images but right now there is one thing i need no one to tell me, i know what i’m feeling is beyond normal two weeks, just exactly two weeks after valentine Ifeanyi wrote me on a Braille, i feared to read, i hesitated after much self motivation i read the note and lo and behold my fear arrested me he wrote it bold “i love you”. I was sure this was love; i knew this was the 1%, Ifeanyi was my eyes, he made life worth living. My love for Ifeanyi was blind, it couldn’t see, it didn’t know if he was tall, dark and handsome, it believed, it saw more than the physical, it looked within and it didn’t care. I’ve never dreamt since i was born, but with Ifeanyi i know i am dreaming even when I’m awake.

Well that was last year, this year valentine is almost here and i’ve not heard from Ifeanyi, we were going out up till December when he left our school, the ophthalmologist said his eyes were good, and they were much better, too bad he left without saying goodbye.

Dear diary every day i wait, i crave, i sniff... but the familiar smell is not coming back, and that’s why i cherish the red sweater in my wardrobe I’ve not washed it for one year now and I’ve been fighting the fading of the perfume. Ifeanyi’s perfume is buried within yarn, trapped in the woven wool; that is my valentine, that is my heaven.

Right now in believe in love, i met love, i touched love, i sang with it, i smelt it, it smelt manly and strong, it smelt angry

Love is real...

Love lives...

It lives in my wardrobe...

And it is red...

Goodbye hopeville

The things I’ve experienced in this little fifteen years of my life – most forty

year olds I’ve not seen half of it. Sometimes I wonder if really I am fifteen years

old. Even Mami, my mother seems confused about my real birth date, I was once

told I was born on the 24th of January 1996, then later I was told it was on the

21st. Grandma still argues about my age with Mami if am fifteen or sixteen. I know by

now you are wondering what kind of home I came from. This is my story.

Papi, my Father died seventeen years ago even before I was born, everything we

owned was forcefully taken from us by our uncles, my father’s brothers. Mami

faced the most inhuman of conditions; she was accused of murdering Papi. One

morning Mami and i (eight months old in her womb) ran away, we ran far away and

that was how we got here. We have nothing here, we are professional beggars now,

begging is our family business. I was born into poverty; I was born with no silver spoon in fact I was born with no

spoon, not even a wooden spoon. My siblings and I work hard day and night to get

the family as alive as possible.

We live in an old unfinished hotel building- ‘Hopeville’, the cracking brick

walls are decorated with green mosses, and the floors rugged with dry brown

overgrown mosses. Our room has just one long bench, an old painting of mother

Mary and baby Jesus and an old mattress on which we all lie, bed wet and play

on. The building is huge, a three storey building with sixty rooms housing

sixteen other families of homeless beggars like us, we are the beggar community.

Life here is hard. We fight for everything, we fight to sleep, we fight to wake

and we fight to live. Through early childhood, I was taught how to bend my hand

into my big shirt with my elbow sticking out with my forearm appearing to be cut

and amputated. I practised it over and over that sometimes I subconsciously feel


We work in shifts, my younger siblings work during the early hours and me and my

brother and I take over from mid noon, we roam the busy roads wearing the

dirtiest and the best of our rags, with our shaved hair decorated with sparkling

white ring worm and dandruff. Laughter and fun is not allowed during work hours

so we appear as convincing and pathetic as possible. Wearing the saddest of face,

i always get the biggest returns. Timi, my eleven year old brother always gets

jealous he never gets as much returns as me. Mami rewards me daily with a few

more morsels of Eba at night. Meat in our soup is only during special occasions

like Christmas or Valentine when people hypocritically decide to show love. We

eat bones and biscuit bones on Sundays, bones gathered from the abattoirs. We

are malnourished. We eat twice daily, sometimes once and it’s Eba morning and

Night. I tasted milk for the first time when I was 8.

Last week, I lost my virginity to my boyfriend Musa, It was painful. I cried all

night, though we didn’t last long like those white people in the ‘blue films’ we

watch at Mike the Electrician’s shop. Musa is eighteen, once a beggar now retired

he is a bus conductor and professional pickpocket he is very talented at it and

everyday he gives me money and gifts. He says he loves me and that he’ll marry

me. I love him too and that was why I agreed to do with him what Mami does with

his father Mr Adamu. Timi, my brother and I always peek when they do it. I feel

embarrassed when i hear Mami moan and scream. Musa’s father, Mr Adamu is my

Mami’s boyfriend and her contract husband. He is the father of my six siblings.

Mami pays him to get her pregnant because he’s a ‘strong breed’ as grandma says.

In this our begging business only ‘strong breeds’ survive and withstand the

fiercest of conditions through the sun and through the rain.

Our biggest competition remain the Arabian beggars and the white Niger Republic

beggars as they hustle harder than us and get more returns because Nigerians are

just so stupid falling for anything white be it USA, UK, China, Egypt or

even white Niger Republics!. What a pity.

Mami needs as many children as possible to increase returns Two years ago; I

lost my sister Bosa to cholera and pneumonia. Her death has left a big vacuum in

our home, I miss her so much. Just like other begging homes, eight kids make a

perfect begging ‘staff’ With Eight kids (workers) on the road, a future is sure.

The younger we are the better for us, when I was a baby, mom took me to work on

the streets and highway till I was three and ready to walk and work on my own. I

worked then with restrictions I wanted to be free just like other kids.

Well now am free and off the chain, I do whatever I like and no one cares, it’s

sad no one really cares. I can’t wait for night to come; I’ll be sleeping over

at my boyfriend’s and he promises to introduce me to some big men. He’s been

making plans for our meeting since last month. Tomorrow is our meeting day. At

last everything is set I will be travelling overseas to Italy to get a better

job. This is a big secret He said I should not tell Mami and I didn’t. I have my

little bag packed and I did not forget my condoms. I will miss home, I’ll

miss my siblings, I’ll miss begging on the streets and fighting hard.

Tomorrow I will be sold but for good. I know I’ll be back someday, to give Mami

hope, to save Timi, Dami, Sola, Taiye and Kehinde(the twins), and Sade, the baby

(Mami’s greatest assert). To give Grandma a befitting funeral.

I have no fears. I know Freedom is not free so I’m ready to pay the price.

With tears in my eyes. Goodbye yesterday...Goodbye Hopeville.

Welcome Tomorrow, Hello Italy...

Real Music 101

Real music 101

Meet Eclipse and Melony.

Have you ever met a music freak before? A freak who cannot live without music, has a song for every situation with has his iPod playlist updated daily? Well if you haven’t met one, this is your lucky day, here I am. I AM A MUSIC FREAK! I listen to a wide variety of music ranging from Rap to Hip Hop, R&B, indie rock, reggae, soul and lots more. I am constantly plugged up, on a bus, on the road, during evening walks, during lunch, at work and my favourite is in the bathroom! You gotta believe me when I tell you that I know good music when I hear it as I introduce you to Real music 101.

My first encounter with Melony was last year at a friend’s party. I remember every bit of that day, I arrived the party late with my friends and as we sat down to relax and cool off over bottles of beer, the DJ played the same old song which I nodded to. The Afro funk dancehall beats got me bumping. Ten minutes after our arrival something strange happened and the party got set ablaze. Every guy and girl on the dance floor danced like the world was coming to an end. I watched them, wondering if some evil spirit had invaded the room as I smiled at how ridiculous the thought was, the beats from the speakers hit me hard and it was then I realised it was no evil spirit I literally lost control of myself, my head nodded uncontrollably, my legs tapped repeatedly to the beat and the next thing I got up to my feet, and before I got blink an eye all my friends were up and bopping. We danced our way into the crowd the beats were wild we all wished the song never ended. Five minutes later our precious bubble got busted as soon as the DJ changed the song and reality hit us all, because I thought I had dead and gone to heaven and immediately I walked over to the DJ and asked him who did the song and what the name of the song was. As he replied the name of the song was “I no Fit Wait by MELONY ft S5 & Sound Sultan”


and that was how my story of love began. I fell madly in love with Melony, permit me to say that i am head over heels for Melony I went home that day and downloaded a couple of his other songs, and Oh my Gawd! this dude is more than just talented his voice is melodious & Angelic no wonder I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Melony is good no doubt, his music style is out of this world; a smooth blend of R&B and Naija beats, with sound lyrics. The song “she won’t let me go” would make every girl cry and make every guy jealous. I assure you this is not hype. I know real music when I hear it and this is one of them, and while I thought that was the end of it all I heard his last single with ECLIPSE “Girl that made the beat ft Eclipse” ( and a fuse blew in my head, an Eclipse took place literally in my head as Melony was reaching for my soul with every tone and key out of his voice, Eclipse went straight for my heart. Eclipse captured my heart with his strong rap lines, smooth punch lines and ‘on point’ lyrics. Eclipse is a lyric monster, yes! He is a beast. Days after hearing “Girl that made the beat ft Eclipse” I knew that was not the end I craved for more, for more of Eclipse, for more of his Rap and my hunger lead me to downloading his tracks “Thank God for Hip hop” ( and “As I am ft. Ven” ( and I must confess there is no other as Eclipse. These tracks has been on replay in my iPod that sometime i wonder if it’s jazz or black magic. Eclipse is too good to be true he is Nigeria’s Hip hop babalawo, he does magic on the micro phone. In fact if I keep talking I won’t stop, hear for Yourself and confirm me right or wrong. Right now I have both my heart and soul soul’d out with no regrets nor apologizes. Melony has stolen my soul and Eclipse has captured my heart and it’s been worth it...

So I decided not be selfish and share my discovery with you guys and I assure you, as a music head that I am I promise you Eclipse and Melony are worth every bit of your time...

Meet Eclipse and Melony.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

August break 2

and then came a blinding flash of lightening and following it was a deafening thunder she held me tight in fear, and soon the building started shaking, it was the echoes from the thunder, or no! It wasn’t! The walls were cracking, ceiling patches started dropping oh! No! No! No! The building was falling, as Chika grabs her blouse for us to head out, a part of the ceiling collapsed and blocked our exit, walls cracked and shook, we both held each other tightly in fear, our heart raced in coherently, my eyes opened wide, we heard screams from outside and from inside, the house shook the more and we ran to a corner of the room curled up, scared holding each other, Chika was Screaming and crying, she wailed and blamed me for bringing her here and suddenly the ceiling finally collapsed and left us with only a room space to keep our legs... and after that came utmost silence, we could only hear little screams echoing in from distances away, we were locked, trapped and buried within heaps of fallen concretes chika and i were unharmed, at least up until now... the room was dark and white dust filled the air, i covered my nose with my handkerchief and so did chika , we had no space to stand, no space to move, just space to sit and shout, our both shouts combined couldn’t penetrate the thick walls and ceiling. We were trapped
After an hour of screaming and crying we both knew we were doomed, i looked at my phone, repeatedly and still there was no network signal, the same was the case for chika. It was then i decided to join her in prayers she had being praying the rosary, i am not catholic, but seriously i just didn’t even want to speak to God, first of all, it’s been long we spoke then secondly i was half way in sin so i just had guilt pricking me, but i knew i had no choice, time was passing it was 3 hours after the collapse, the room got darker and stuffier, did someone say stuffier, am asthmatic and immediately the fear of an attack gripped my my inhaler must have fallen off my pocket while i was reaching for my condoms.
I asked God for forgiveness, prayed and prayed till i ran out of saliva, Chika and i, concluded that we were going to die. We then stated sharing secrets. She told me how she had always had this crush on me, she finally answered my question, she was a virgin!, thank God i didn’t go further, she also told me of how she cheats in exams to get all the good grades she gets, and there i was envying her thinking she was brainy. It was my turn to share my secrets. I told her my dark secrets of how i was abused by our house help when i was 7 and again when i was 9 this time by our male house help, so obviously i wasn’t a virgin. We talked about how we think hell will be and how heaven will be. Fear enveloped us...
Great crowd gathered outside to see the not-so-trained fire department try to rescue people, tragedy has struck the town, the whole roads were jammed, there was traffic everywhere the streets were full and overcrowded with kids and adults, Red Cross and paramedics watching and praying. Reverend fathers and pastors gathered, prayers were being made the whole town was in shock, shouts of joy echoed as 2 little kids were drawn out of the building with excavators and bulldozers, the press over crowded the place, cameras recorded every event and television stations reported live. The press were happy asking question and filming every move. It was cold and everywhere was wet. It was 7.34pm it was already dark, bright artificial lamps were fixed. The streets had different versions of the story...
Many said only 5 people survived, others say 7 and others say it’s just those kids.

We were inside cold and forgotten, the excavators dug and the bulldozers dug even more...we both were so tired and hungry we fell asleep, i was woken up by mighty shouts and bright shining lights possibly from the artificial lamps.
No it wasn’t...
We have been waiting in the Student’s center for the principal’s last address...and i fell asleep, i jump up with my heart pounding, i was sweating, it was all a dream, the mighty shouts, bright lights and applauds were to commend the principle for the closing speech, the term was over and i got an F in maths again, it was just a lousy wet dream about Chika as usual, and oh! My trouser was wet! And immediately Chika passed by and saw my wet trouser as she laughed out loud and went to call other girls...

August break 1

It was a beautiful august afternoon and everything was perfect, breakfast was perfect, school was perfect, my grades? Hmmm close to perfect at least for the first time, thank God it’s the last Friday of the term...
We have been waiting in the Student’s center for the principal’s last address.
Today has been lovely, everything seems to be working in my favour, can’t believe I made an ‘A’ in Mathematics, and ‘B’ in physics, I just can’t wait to go home, school closed today for the long vacation, am glad the annoying endless rainy season is gone, actually right now we are in august break, i’ll be travelling next week with my mom for august meeting and new yam festival, she has been packing and preparing. I just can’t wait to go to villa, and see grandpa and dance with masquerades just as always.
Butterflies are dancing in my belly; mom will be so proud and happy all the extra mural classes i took didn’t just go to waste. Standing here at the bus stop all I’m thinking is the bet i made with chika at the beginning of the term, who said that if i get an A in maths this term that she’d be my girlfriend for one week, well I’ve been asking her out since SS1, she’s extremely beautiful , tall, dark and slim. Just everything i need in a girl, we’ve been in the same class since junior secondary but i never used to notice her, back then she was slim, not so tall and had neither hips nor breasts, but now you so don’t want to see her now, things change and people change fast.
The little unnoticed nerd of our class has grown to become the most chased after; too bad she’s playing hard-to-get. As i was daydreaming my life away, there came a swift rushing wind, and with it came claps of thunder, oh no the clouds are gathering, cars approaching from the east already had rain drops on their windscreen oh no, not today. I need a bus fast, with my legs moving left to right in impatience, i heard my name, i turned back and i saw no one, then i heard my name again, and oh! It was chika the first thing she said was “it was just a bet so don’t start getting ideas” smiling sheepishly and paralyzed by her beauty, she suggests we walk down to the other less crowded bus stop it was a little mile, and as we walked the rain slowly drizzled along behind us, and before we could say jack Robinson the rain overtook us and started pouring, oh no! We both ran the straight road looking for shade, the rain got heavier and heavier, cars zoomed pass, splashing water on our school uniforms we laughed and ran, and then i spotted a shade, a shade ahead, an unfinished building, i grabbed chika by the hand and we ran straight ahead into the building, i was hoping we’d be alone so i can try out a few of my playboy tricks on her, i was disappointed to find many other people taking shade too, some secondary school students, a few from my school- mostly juniors, some kids and their hawking trays of banana and groundnut, other older people, and a mad man, everyone was cold and minded their own business. The rain would not stop. 30 minutes gone and it’s still raining, i suggested to chika for us to walk around perhaps stay in one of the numerous rooms, where could talk without feeling awkward or being gazed upon by old people, it was a big house with plenty room, more like an unfinished hotel, after hesitating she followed me, i was glad, soon i won’t be feeling cold, i hope, i have a record for wooing girls in 15 minutes and getting them sleep with me in 20 minutes, and that’s why my friends call me ‘the catalyst’ i prayed the rain lasts even longer. I was prepared; i had 2 condoms in my wallet, Obi’s uncle, Uncle Ike supplies us free because most pharmacy shops won’t just sell it to us, he says if you must play, play safe. I asked her if she was cold as she sat on an old dusty table obviously i knew she was cold, and replied shivering “yes, very! Very!”... i offered my shirt...that was move number one, she took it happily she looked at me on my forehead and looked down, she couldn’t look me the eye no more, because my shirt was off and my tight new, white, ‘body hug’ singlet was intimidating her or should i say attracting her, 10 more minutes and the rain wouldn’t just stop. I was happy. Little by little, we talk about school, life, our future university plan, personal interests and then i went to the holy grail asking her if she was a virgin, she was shocked and screamed out “ewww you’re such a naughty boy” and made all those usual statements girls make when a boy raises a topic they like, after the dramatic gestures she said “why do you wanna know” i said because “i am a virgin... I’ve never done it before”, as she bursted out in laughter, almost rolling on the floor and laughing her butt out, what i am saying she did! She rolled on the floor and laughed her butt off...
Well long story short, we started kissing, and cuddling and the weather was just perfect, i was waiting for the right time to ask her for us to start the main stuff as i necked her i was reaching for my wallet to get my condoms