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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Monster Chef

Warning: This post contains nudity and unsanitary words and  will likely leave you and your cat unconscious…..

running zibah ii

“Hey Blood, I’m on my way to Lagos and I’m crashing at your place for a few days. I should be at your zone in about 4 hours; give or take an  hour”

“Yo! Kenny. Uhm! Sure” I responded

I’m usually reluctant to have people in my personal space for more than a few hours but Kenny isn’t people. I had met him about a year ago at the send-forth of a mutual friend and we struck up a fast strong friendship. I’m currently on a “break” from work so there has been zero; meetings, traffic mishaps, bad ‘mama-put’ lunches and weirdly I have not seen Jessie (won’t be shocked if she calls me with an International number to announce she just got married to some guy she met 5 minutes ago and is currently having her ring tattooed on her butt cheek) so yeah, I was bored stiff. Coupled with the fact that I had not caused anyone grief recently and you have me in full-blown depressed mode.

Few hours later… Continue reading

“Body Small”


Public transportation in Nigeria is like many other things here; stressful. Take for example today, I had business that dragged me to the Oyingbo axis of Lagos Mainland, on successful conclusion of the business, I boarded a commercial lorry/bus to return to my apartment. I have always detested hopping into commercial buses that insists on mashing 5people in a 4-assed seat; it was just my luck that every long vehicle in this area insists on 5people.

At  the point of boarding the partially-filled vehicle, I scanned for a comfortable seat,  ‘comfortable” here refers to a semi-tight spot beside a window (for fresh air). Seeing no such space vacant, I made my way to the next best thing-2 seats from the window. I tuned out all the voices around me; fellow passengers and hawkers screaming the names and state of their wares then I mentally sent a message to my butt asking it to absorb as much comfort as it could as the luxury of being scattered carelessly wouldn’t last long.

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Boarding house

evil joker grin

Hey there, Zibah here, Happy New Year. How has 2014 been so far? Do you feel older, stupider, sexier….different? I bet you don’t. Anyway, permit me to vent about Max. Max is Tolani’s son. Tolani is a single mum. How did I meet her? I think it was at a Ladi’s daughter’s naming ceremony. Anyway for some reason Max has taken to me like a Remora to a Shark, Like shit to ass, like HIV to a prostitute’s cooch, like Jesse to my sensory nerves, like….you get the picture. Anyway, cum the new session Tolani has decided to move Max into boarding school so she can have more time to focus on her business and her romantic life (she is just 29 years old). Max has been super excited about his perceived “freedom” and has been badgering me to narrate my experience about my boarding house life back in secondary school (I went to FGCL, Ijanikin. Lagos) so today I decided to tell him a little evil (but true) story.


I was in JSS 2; tall, good-looking and quite daft. I used to hang my shorts somewhere in the region of my navel (High-waist short thinz hehehehehe!). There was a senior- Akilo who for some reason liked to hassle me.

Zibah, visiting day dey come. As soon as your mama comot, share wetin she bring into 2. Make one big pass the other. That one na for me. You hear” he would drawl. Although he never quite managed to find me afterwards he always repeated the same thing just before the next Visiting Day. I was usually able to spin some bogus believable story to him whenever our paths crossed subsequently but this Saturday, he was having none of that.

Zibah, I been dey look for you since. You think say you can maragula me shey (Uncle Zib what is maguguka….shhhh! or I won’t finish the story. Ah! Sorry, I wee not talk again).

Akilo: Oya come here, where you dey hide since?

Zibah: Me? I wasn’t hiding at…..ouch! (I had received a slap)

Akilo: You think say you sharp abi? Where my stuffs, you think I will forget this time (did I mention Akilo’s voice was super deep and he was super unattractive? A frightening combination I tell you)

Me: Sniffs and stammers

Akilo: Oya turn (I was expecting to feel the sting of his belt or a wooden pole on my back/backside then…) and remove your boxers too.

Huh! I was puzzled at what my infant backside was to do for him then he brought out a lighter, depressed the pedal and a dancing ball of flame appeared. Oh! I see…barbecued Zibah Butt…served hot, grab a slice. Is he crazy?

Me: Senior Akilo please, I will give you cereals, milk, sugar…anything o

Akilo: Bring your smelley yansh here fool

I removed my boxers half way, effectively exposing my behind and kept on begging. After the sadistic punk was satisfied and had his feel he proceeded to give me several more slaps and sent me on my merry way.


“Max, you there?” I asked while snapping my fingers in his face to get his attention. Uncle Zib, I don’t want to carry fire on my bumbum, it wee be painful and then he bursted out crying. Tolani came into the living room to find out what was going on and tried unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter after I told her. Max thinking he had been conned stopped the waterfall, stalked up to me, punched me in the gut and stormed off. He probably went to ponder on my story. The annoying twat, at least that should keep him busy for a few minutes.

“Uncle ZIBBBBBBB” Max yelled from somewhere inside the house

Sheesh! Already 😦



Food. Food. I need food RIGHT NOW. I’m hungry, so hungry I even started picturing grub I would ordinarily never touch with a 10ft short pole. I had to consciously shove a mental image of Amala into my mental bin from whence it came. My vision was all shade of blurry and it felt as if I had got a kg of salt dissolving on my tongue. I stumble drunkenly towards the nearest cafeteria.

“Do you have rice?” I half-growled. No response, I repeated my request a little louder, disdain heavy in my voice. What, I was hungry.

“Ehn and?” came the irritated reply.

I looked up to the source of the sound and my eyes focused on the ugliest lips man has ever been forced to bear and a sullen face that would have given a bulldog pause. I may be hungry but that voice irked me greatly and I had to quell the urge to barbecue her stupid face. I pointed to plantain, coleslaw, a ginormous fish tail and a pack of orange juice. I was beyond speech. My bill came out at N1350. I grabbed my wallet and drooped two one thousand Naira notes on the counter.

“Ehn! What for? I DONT HAVE CHANGE O“. She spat in that irksome voice.

OK, that is it. I have had it. I grabbed the scythe hanging loosely but out of sight in my duster pocket and made quick messy work of her jugular. Her neck spurting crimson wonderment, I leveled a dispassionate stare at her twitching dying body. I calmly grabbed my plate of food and drink and walked away. On second thoughts, I turned back, grabbed my two thousand Naira crisp note off the table and put into my respectful wallet. Tsk!

"Ehen! No change na"
Ehen! No change na

Not all of that was fiction (I have eyes still for the Oscar for best screen-play). The “no change” bug seems to have caught on in Nigeria; from the road-side Madam Tuale restaurant and commercial vehicles to established businesses. Hear what a columnist of Thisday newspaper has to say about it;

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