The Black Uniform

Their disposition is as sore as the backside of our children who attend public secondary schools. Their mandate- to sanitize the street and keep the Nigerian citizen safe and pampered, a mandate they carry out through harassment and the occasional bullet hole in necessary body parts. Their justice is available to the highest bidder, earning them a concluding spot in the morning prayers of many households. Introducing you to the black on blacks, the Nigerian Police force.

Keep us from all evil and the clutches of the police today.


I Zibah have been away for almost 2 years. I have grown older (duh!)- I am 25 now and wiser to the ways of women. Beyond the 2 sentences just rendered, I intend to give no further explanation as to the reason of my being away. So carry on, go tell yo’ grandma that Zibah is back with his unique perversions. Handsomer than ever.

Let’s away our attention from my stunning narcissistic indulgence for a tick and return to the elite group of men and women whose stories of heroism and grand achievements are few and far between. I’ve had many run-ins with the law, some plain hilarious; others didn’t have me laughing so deeply.

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I’m a creative person and this thankfully extends to the kitchen. I’m also extremely choosy with food plus I live alone (mostly) so I have had to develop strong culinary skills. I learnt to cook by trial and error and in my current state I can confidently challenge most women; I am like the new breed of men, the kind who don’t get bullied by their wives or girlfriend through food. PS dear future wife, you cannot demand I choose between sex and dinner. I will choose sex, screw you silly then go make myself dinner. If you like remain boneless on the kitchen counter, when you are blinded with hunger and find yourself eating raw tomatoes and pepper you will realize that I – The Zibah will not be bullied.

Dear readers, kindly ignore the rant above; I tend to give in to momentary bouts of ZD (Zibah dementia).


I remember growing up as a child and being excited when mom would announce that we were going to have pancakes for breakfast during the weekend. I would look forward with frenzied anticipation and even manage to not wet the bed in celebration of pancake weekend. Pancakes-golden brown fluffy sweetness shaped like a tennis ball. If pancake was a god, I was its loyal bitch. Years later I had accompanied mom to the store to grab grocery when I had stumbled upon a row of pastry ingredients and my attention had been drawn to the stack of pancake mix. The wrapper had several images of extremely attractive ‘pancakes’ that looked nothing like the balls mom makes. “What wizardry is this?” I had whispered in shock then hurriedly went in search of my mother and pulled her back to the shelf.

“Mom that can’t be pancakes, yours never looks like that” I asked innocently Continue reading

Mrs. Ibironke

Hi, Zibah here. This is the concluding part of the robbery post. It contains screenshots of my initial conversation with Mrs. Ibironke (the current owner of my stolen blackberry device).

It starts with me adding my (her) blackberry PIN on BlackBerry Messenger sometime around midnight, drafting the invite along the line of “Hey boo, miss you. Add me up on BBM”. Remember this ‘Aunty’ is allegedly married and inferring from her pattern of speech, her ‘husband’ seems like the kind of man whose invite would read something like “Ibironke na me. Oya press accept”.

By morning, I noticed that I had a new contact and judging by the time of acceptance it happened few minutes after I sent the invite. She must have been shivering in anticipation at the prospect of a “Nigerian Prince” (if you know what I mean). See rest of conversation below; Continue reading

The Robbery

People get robbed on their way back from an event. They get robbed in traffic. They get robbed by their nannies. They even get robbed at religious houses and weddings. People get robbed period. Yea, people…. Not Zibah. That changed today.

What I tell people happened

I had a buddy visit Lagos, I was occupied through most of his stay and by the last weekend of his visit my elusiveness had edged him into a  maniacal frenzy and he was reduced to threatening my future wife with murder if I failed to make out time to hang out and catch up on things. I tried to get him to understand that I was now popular demand for  desperate and lonely Nigerian newly divorced women and young oil heiress and thus could not make out time from my  elaborate seduction scheme to ‘hang’ but he remained resolute to carry out murder in the future so I thought, what the heck, let’s do this.


Set day arrived and we were making our way to a popular bar and somehow got separated, no thanks to the volume of human traffic. Then I noticed a guy trailing me; scruffy, suspicious and generally looking like he needed several slaps. This was his undoing. I had my eyes on him so I was ready when he attempted to slip a hand into my pocket. Quick as lightening, I jabbed 2 fingers in the general direction of his kidney, as he bowled over in pain, I kneed him in his nuts on general principles. Straightening up, I noticed my mobile device crushed on the floor, the man probably succeeded in pulling it halfway out of my pocket and then a speeding commercial bike must have ran over it. It was just a phone that I bought barely 2 weeks ago. No big deal.



This version is properly tweaked based on the gullibility of my audience.

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Jesus Christ and Bruce Lee

On this faithful day I was pursued by a beastly dog and was saved by Bruce Lee and Jesus Christ.

Some days are rather unexciting, this day in particular was proving to be a real bummer so I made a firm decision to do something positively engaging rather than wallow in drudgery and porn (kidding!). I was in Lagos Mainland so I decided to take a leisure stroll through a quiet residential part of Surulere. I have been taking leisure strolls usually lasting over an hour for years, overtime I have developed enviable endurance worthy of embarrassing a camel and challenging those Kenyans athletes that only win marathon events at the Olympics.

The weather was perfect; windy. My selected location was serene and upper class. I grabbed my mobile phone, my wallet and ATM card (never leave the house without cash, I learnt the hard way the day I wound up in the great company of our amazing police officers and had only N75 in my pocket. I became intimately familiar with their station’s interior before the end of the day), shoved my feet into my ridiculously pricey slippers (never smile at a pretty sales girl, they are adept at financial witchcraft) and set out.

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