Oh Mammon II

JB was overtly ambitious; his thirst for wealth, and power was disturbing. He always made boast of what he would become, who he would wine/dine with and the places he would go before he was 30. In his quest for quick money, he had dabbled into internet fraud aka yahoo-yahoo, Baba Ijebu (Lotto) and sold weed at a point to youngsters in boarding schools. This was just his way of staying at the top of the food chain.

 One thing was clear, the life on the fast lane was never profitable for JB, he always ended up worse off every single time he explored his supposed goldmine. This time, JB reassured himself that it was going to be his big break; if his ponzi scheme with Hassana panned out, he would be a high baller forever.

 Being a schemer that he was, he weighed his options i.e. Leave Hassana, be safe/secure and miss out her wealth or pretend to love her and have access to affluence but be at the mercy of Alhaji Dogo. After careful consideration over 3 bottles of beer one humid evening, JB told himself that there was no going back. Afterall, the yoruba elders said "enu kiniwun loowo wa, taan laya kowa wo" meaning "wealth is in the mouth of a lion, only the brave hearted can retrieve it".

 With such determination and doggedness, he played his part really well pretending to be Hassana's Romeo. To be honest, JB pulled a Morgan Freeman on everybody. It was hard to tell that he wasn't for real. He paid regular visits to Alhaji Dogo and the family, he had pet names for Hassana, he was always around her cuddling, kissing and whispering sweet-nothings into her ears; In fact, he was her knight in shinning armour.

 In no time, JB was cruising around Katsina city in his brand new Honda CrossTour with a customised plate "JB MONEY". He wore designer couture, used the latest technology and many could swear that they never saw him spend any denomination that wasn't the N1000 note. As long as he did everything Hassana wanted, he got all he wanted. Alhaji Dogo filled his pocket everyday and encouraged him to go out with Hassana and spend money like it had no value.

 In other words, JB lived to please Hassana, take orders from Alhaji Dogo and spend money on instruction. On one occasion, he corrected Hassana on something she did wrong and she cried. The Alhaji got the wind of his daughter's displeasure and JB was summoned to the fort. Without hearing his own side of the story, an order was given that his bare body be a receptacle for 30 lashes of koboko (horsewhip). After that, the family nurse was instructed to treat his wounds.

 He wept bitterly as the nurse cleaned his wounds; not because the iodine stung him but because he had no more dignity. To them, he was a bond slave. He wasn't permitted to think or do anything outside what the Alhaji and his over-pampered daughter wanted. Anything outside their wishes spelled doom for him. As hurt as he was, the thought of the money had access to, the life he lived and was consoled.

 Like sheep in the meadow, he did the Alhaji's bidding and never objected for once; he was Hassana's lapdog. Overnight, she transformed from a naïve girl into a full-time bitch; screaming at him and talking him down, she got him to do whatever she wanted. Anytime he showed dissent, he was reminded how she brought him out of the dung hill and ugraded him.

 JB had no dignity, he only had access to wealth. He had no power over the disbursement and spending. The Alhaji had that taken care of; he was always instructed on how to spend the money and watched closely by his aides. This meant that he could not send money to his personal account or to his friends in Lagos. He merely subsisted on the Alhaji's wealth; living large to the naked eyes but impoverished on a closer look.

 "At all At all na him bad pass", JB said to himself as he endured the indignity of being a beneficiary of Alhaji Dogo's money.

 One fateful saturday, a swiss gold bar was stolen from the Alhaji's inner chamber and JB was wrongly accused. He was placed in police custody for a week; after much interrogation and torture, he was finally released to go free. To his amazement, Hassana his so-called fiancée didn't even show up during his detention nor did she put in a good word for him during the investigation. Badly beaten, bruised and starved for an offence he didn't commit, he questioned his maker.

 He was barred from his quarters, his vehicles, his clothes, his gadgets and everything the Alhaji ever bought for him were seized. He wasn't even allowed to see Hassana again. With no place to go, he went to the corpers lodge to seek refuge. It was like a refugee camp over there; rooms were over-populated and meals were poorly rationed. The corpers he had looked down on and scorned when he was with the Alhaji were now his benefactors.

 A month later, he was discharged from his place of primary assignment. He returned to Lagos with a tale of woes, a body of scars, a broken heart, an eroded self esteem and a big "ghana-must-go".

 Money is amoral i.e. Its neither good nor bad; Means, Intentions and Personality defines money. Hence, its left to you to know why you want money, how you desire to get your money, where you wish to get your money from, from whom you want to get your money and what you intend to spend your money on.

Oh Mammon

Last week my friend, John-Bull (popularly known as JB among us, his pals) returned to Lagos after a fruitless sojourn in Katsina State. During his NYSC year he had hooked up with a Mallo babe with the hopes that she would be the meal ticket for his service year.

 Truth is, we had always known JB to be a womaniser but hearing him admit he was "doing" a beautiful girl for the money alone was something we couldn't get over.

 As expected, we advised him against meddling with a Mallo babe but our advice fell on deaf ears. It was certain that JB just wanted to milk her for all she was worth, probably enjoy the goodies her body had to offer, and then leave her high and dry her after he was through with his service year.

 Knowing how powerful some of these Mallo parents are, playing games with their daughters could be suicidal. They spoil their children silly; lavishing all the good things money could buy on them. Deductively speaking, it's only prudent for these parents to go any length to ensure the interests of their offspring are protected.

 Ignoring our cries, JB went ahead with this ponzi scheme; deluding the innocent "daddy's girl" he met at the bookshop. Day-after-day, he wooed her with sweet words, flirtatious text messages and repeated phone calls. In no time, she collapsed like a pack of cards; giving-in to his advances and confessing her feelings to him.

 Almost instantaneously, they became love birds and were seen at virtually all the fun spots in the capital. They spent many hours in the company of one another, holed up in several hotel rooms, cuddling and making out. JB had been posted to the state ministry, so he had lots of free time on his hands as he was required to come only once a month for his clearance letter. As fate would have it, his Mallo babe had just finished her A-levels.

 Absence they say makes the heart grow fonder. In the case of JB and Hassana, idleness made them fonder. They were simply inseparable. Three months into their relationship, JB began to make demands for money and pressure her for sex. She gladly gave him all the money he asked for without hesitating but she was reluctant to let him have his way with her.

 Using all the weapons of seduction he had in his arsenal, JB tried to lure Hassana into giving-in to his advances. For some weird reason, however, she refused to budge. After much persuasion, she told JB that she would only have sex with the man who would marry her. She then asked him to marry her so that they could enjoy their romance forever and raise beautiful kids together.

 Noticing JB's reaction to what she was saying, she cunningly assured him of the goodies he stood to gain from marrying her. Most of which were financial and sexual. She whined as she begged him to marry her; that he was her life, that her parents were aware of their relationship and that it meant the world to her.

Shit just got real with JB, he never envisaged this dramatic twist in his gold digging. To be honest, he didn't even like this girl; he was doing it just for the money. He felt she was an over-dependent brat who required lots of attention and assistance as she could barely do anything without help from her servants.

 Getting married was not his problem; getting married to a rich man's daughter was actually more of a solution than a problem, but getting married to Hassana was a problem that would bring a solution to his problems. Marital status was the variant while problems were constant in all scenarios. Being the sharp guy that he thought himself to be, he agreed to marry Hassana so as to suck out all the goodies he could before he fled at the end of his service year.

 Immediately, Hassana stripped herself naked and offered her body to him as a covenant to seal their love forever. Like a starved Prison inmate, he hurriedly devoured her like a bowl of spaghetti; consummating their 'love' in the most beastly manner ever known to man.

 It was all rice and beans between JB and Hassana until it was time to meet her father. Alhaji Aminu Dogo was a wealthy northern aristocrat who had claims to several oil wells in the country. With such wealth and affluence, he became a king-maker in the State, giving assent to those aspiring to occupy various political offices. His nod was as good as winning the election; Army generals ate from his palm, and even the Governor of the State was his protege. Without a doubt, his power was absolute and unmatched in the whole of Katsina State.

 Alhaji Dogo was a man of few words but with his immense powers, people who defied him were known to have disappeared mysteriously never to be seen again. With a keen eye he peered at JB who stood in his presence greeting. His silence made JB very nervous as he seemed to be reading something on his clothes.

 After about 5minutes of humming indistinctively, he bellowed a warning to him never to jilt his daughter or make her cry; educating him on the grave consequences that follow such an action. Then Alhaji Dogo promised him a huge sum of money to rebrand himself so as to be good enough for his daughter.

 It was at this point JB realised he was waist deep in a messy situation. Quitting was not an option anymore as he was a hair's breath away from driving posh cars and controlling huge sums of money while being married to the daughter of the most powerful man in Katsina State.

 JB's knew that if he was to amount to anything in life, playing along would be his starting point.


 The story continues next week...

Dear Diary by 'The Voice'

9th of May,2013.

 Dear Diary...
 I'm being bashed. The realisation just struck me like a lightening bolt. I, a public defender, am being bashed. I'm to defend the members of the public yet, I'm being bashed; and it took me six months to realize it. Six months!!! Even Kim Kardashian realised her marriage was 'fake' barely after 72 days!

 The bully bashing me is tall, dark and huge...and he carries himself well. Very intelligent. Charming even. Extremely convincing.

 I remember when I met him. I held him in awe. Once upon a time political office holder. Loved by all in his community. A successful man in his profession. A Philanthropist, an 'omoluabi', as the Yorubas would put it. Little did I know how quickly time would slice through my illusion with a cold knife.

 That about 25 years of building up my self- confidence could be shaken so easily is beyond me. I gradually began to realize that no matter how hard I tried, nothing I did would ever be good enough. Even if I worked for hours on end, slaving towards perfection, dedicating my weekends and public holidays, it would never meet up to his expectations. I always fall short, yet I try to prove myself on a daily basis. I'm always in the wrong. If he doesn't throw my attempts back in my face, he'll wreck my work. If not, he'll scream at me. Or worse still, he'll use a combination of words to express the level of my 'foolishness'. All this because by virtue of the peanuts he pays, he 'owns' the employee.

 Yeah. That's right. The man who bashes me is my employer. Ironically, he's a top public defender.

 I grew up in a very warm and cosy environment. With lots of supervision I was able to thrive. Each time I did well, I was validated. There were always kind words, gifts, warm hugs and kisses, celebrations, etcetera. Even when I didn't do too well, I was encouraged to aim higher. At school I knew that if I read and worked hard I would excel. One thing would result in another; It was a given. It was predictable. It was comfortable.

 You can imagine the psychological shock I experienced when I got to my place of primary assignment for my Youth Corps and realised that his modus operandi was different. I'm telling you, nothing prepared me for this. The girl who had always been called 'efiko' now wonders if she's an airhead. Each time I want to see him, my heart beats faster and I say many prayers. Prayers for grace. Prayers for wisdom. Prayers for fortitude to bear the loss of confidence which I know awaits me. Just the other day, I was literally trembling in his presence.

 The thing is, I've come to a point where I'm tired. And I know this bashing has to stop. I need to act fast because if I let it continue, it will mess up the success of the past years. And it's not worth it.

 You see, I'm being psychologically bashed by someone in a higher position than me. And it hurts like crazy. But here's what I came to realize in a fit of rage:

1) I'm all that I am. And nothing will change that. I'm who I am, and I don't need to prove that to anyone.

 2) I didn't choose to be bashed. But whether I continue to be bashed is my choice

 3) I can rise above this bashing. I can make this bullying of no effect. And here's why:

 4) God did not intend for anyone to be bashed, whether physically, sexually, emotionally or psychologically. And no one has done anything to deserve being bashed. So no, I'm not the one with the problem!!!

 5) What won't kill me will only make me stronger. But I don't have to wait to see if it will kill me. The pain has already made me tougher. That's enough

 6) The greatest revenge you can have on a bully is to show him how you can rise above his hurtful words, beating, manipulation, molestation, etc. Don't do it for revenge, do it for yourself, because God made you for something much better than this.

 In conclusion, I'll edit the words of Sir Alex Ferguson. 'I know how good I am. I know whose Identity I carry. I won't let God down, I won't let myself down.' Don't just know yourself and your worth. Act like you do. Damsel, arise!

 In honour of the fight against women bashing.

Us and Them

There is no need to beat around the bush on this one. I think its necessary that we are sincere and not mince words. We can't keep calling a blind man "a visually impaired person" or calling a dull child "special", just because it sounds better.

 YES I wasn't born when Nigeria was governed by British officers like Lugard, Clifford, Mcpherson, Richards, Lyttleton and co; however, I studied the history books extensively and also took a good look at the common modus operandi of the colonial officers. Though some rulers were more "open" than the others, one thing was constant; They never gave a rat's ass about us, it was strictly business.

 They were merely concerned with furthering British interests in Nigeria as they cut and sewed almost anything just to deliver the goods. The saddening thing is that our leaders shamelessly kissed these colonial butts in a quest to be relevant. They did their bidding and were always eager to be 'boy-boys' to the "white" just to be rewarded with flights to England "to see the Queen" at the slightest opportunity. The question is..."whose Queen"?

 On the other hand, the colonialists were watching with a keen eye. To add pepper onto the injury, these calculated Brits in their willy style cultivated some low intellect Nigerians, loaded with some millions of pounds and exposed them to the goodies of the West i.e. Small cars, Television sets, trips to Europe, lunches/dinners with the "white folks" etc

 In no time, these "money miss roads" were acting like kings over the pretty much contented/unexposed Nigerian populace. They started having a superiority complex just because they drank tea every morning in a tiny cup and drove the Morris Minor. Every other person was inferior and "bush" because they hadn't been to Essex or Glasgow before.

Laughing and making merry over the foolhardy nature of our leaders, the British lay back, grabbed their joypads (Early Nigerian Millionaires) and dabaruuuud our country a.k.a Divide and Rule.

 Its 2013 and we are still suffering from what the Legendary Fela Anikulapo called "Kolo-Mentality". We claim to be independent yet we are still very much tied to the aprons of them that colonised us.

 Parents sheepishly teach their kids with foreign books and materials, kids lie to their peers that they were born in London or America but their parents relocated to Nigeria when they were yet toddlers. Young ladies speak in fake funny accents just to be regarded as "cream", Young men hustle citizenship by marrying unattractive "white women" just to get a passport. Grand parents brag to their fellow geriatrics on the number of offspring they have overseas.....its a national menace!

 Its rather foolhardy of us to let our lives be defined by people who don't give a hoot about us. I suggest we focus on ourselves, disregard whatever report or list they release, dump in the junk yard their theories/maxims, impart our young with African styled education, if we are to experience growth/development.

 After many years of le struggle, it is quite evident that letting them decide our fate has kept us underdeveloped and stagnant. Countries like China, Japan, Singapore, Malaysia, Brazil, Angola, Venezuela have been able to experience steady growth even in the wake of a global economic crunch. The interesting thing is that they used their unique national knowledge/ideas/methods to achieve feats while the other countries that heeded to the western call remained in the Third World (The special jacuzzi created by the west for those they want to be constantly underdeveloped).

 On a more personal level, you are encouraged to live your life like its yours (Y.O.L.O), determine your own future and make choices knowing that you would be held accountable for whatever decision you make. Stop living at the mercy of others; wondering what they would say or think. Remember, if you fail, you would be blamed and categorised among the banquet of losers.

Two-Face

Like a primary school child, read the following slowly and aloud. Don't forget to respect the punctuation marks too.
1...2...3...Go!

 Yet again, she lures me with her seductive body
I feel weak and weaker.
At my weakest, she wraps her long arms around me.
On my face, she plants her deceitful lips
 Her impoverishing breasts brush against my body
 and the harmony of our hearts, beats my ear drums.

 Oh what a killer she is!
 Making me leave many things undone
To dreamy lands, she compels me to elope
 And like a lamb to the slaughter
 I follow her without resistance.

 In the blink of an eye, she is lost from my sight
 Checking the highway and the streets; I search for her frantically
 But the noise of technology and the rush of the wind greet me welcome
With a sunken head, I walk back home
Behold! the greatest tease was lurking in an alley.

 As if possessed, I grabbed her right arm just to peer into her face
But yet again, sleep disappears
Condemning me to her whims, leaving me stuck to nostalgia
 about the wonderful times we shared

  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  ⇊


 After reading the poem above, i started to believe that things are not always what they appear to be on the surface. I saw clearly what people meant by "there are two sides to a coin" and to crown it up, I discovered that punctuation gives meaning to what we read and when we write.
What do you think?