SaTurDay TiNz II

Last ‘Environmental’, I was in my neighbor’s room at about 7am when some bloody civilian began banging on our gate. Wearing my 3/4s and a tiny singlet, I was the perfect picture of gauntness and hunger. I looked like an old village teacher, But it was my ‘yard’ and I didn’t care.

I went towards the gate to check on the crazy person. Through the slits, I could see people in green uniforms or something like that, so my brazenness was exchanged for caution. I stopped and ran back to arm myself with my neighbor.
The person outside was shouting, ‘OPEN THIS GATE!!’. I knew they were not NEPA because of the uniform, so I was not too  bothered. My neighbor and I opened the gate and stepped outside, ready to pounce on the disrespectful person outside.

We were shocked

There were about 50 people outside my gate, about half of them in bright green uniforms. My neighbor and I would not have been embarrassed, but we were wearing rough singlets and looking like village farmers…in front of what looked like three TV cameras.

It was all i could do to not look like a wimp and scamper back into my ‘yard’. Besides, the large woman in white was shouting something.

‘Why are you not doing your sanitation?’

My neighbor and I just looked like we didn’t hear what she said. We were that baffled by the number of people outside my gate. I looked down the street and saw other green-uniformed people engaged in shouting matches with the people living in the other building, but still…amean!!

‘Good morning,’ i said loudly, trying to sound diplomatic, even though i would have looked nothing less than an agrestic farmer.
The big woman repeated  her question. I was studying the cameras and mentally trying to picture my family watching me on TV before the day was over. My neighbor and try tried to maintain composure, because it looked like these people could manhandle us and throw us into prison and no one would do jack shit about it.

But damn it. Everyone was talking at the same time. It was like one of those adverts we see on TV where a crew of people assault a family, asking them if they use Ariel or Duck or WAPIC or some shit like that.

My neighbor began, ‘We were just preparing to–‘, before i added my own quips.

‘It’s our house,’ i said,’We are definitely coming out to clean it. In fact, we were just talking about it’

‘See your dirty gutter,’ the large lady said, ‘how can you be living in a place like this?’ The camera man actually followed the movement of her flabby hands nd zoomed in onto the gutter. The other people had Samsung Tablets and Big Techno phones. I was wondering why they were so intent on the recording.

‘We are coming to clean it out now,’ i reiterated.

‘Oya bring your rake out now,’  the woman said. Some of the men behind her nodded in agreement, as though this were some elder’s meeting in a Nollywood flick.

I glanced at my neighbor. In the low light of his room, beneath the hum of the AC, we had looked like young cool keeds lounging on a Saturday morning. Now we just looked like poor people beneath the harsh light of that dirty Saturday morning sun. I am sure i am not the only one who thinks bright mornings make everywhere look stark and dirty. I am? Okay.

Yes, I was saying… I glanced at my neighbor.We had not touched a rake in the last six months. How the hell where we supposed to get a rake while five cameras were recording our every movement?

‘We will get a rake now,’ he intoned with a confidence I did not share.

I glanced sideways at the next building. There has always been an unspoken agreement between us and the mallams who sell indomie at night right beside the gate. Because they are the only ones who ever litter the gutters, it is their sole responsibility to clean our environment on sanitation. All six tenants of my building are employed, and we hardly ever see each other until the weekend, so nobody has actually ever  bothered about the sanitation. But the owner of the business changed the mallams recently, so this was the first sanitation exercise they would be meeting. They didn’t know it was their de facto responsibility (i hope i used that phrase well sha.)

Ehen….back to the story.
One elderly man wearing a fez cap and sneakers gave me a lifeline while I was about  thinking where on God’s earth i would get a rake this early morning. I would later learn that he is the current traditional ruler.
‘Why didn’t you tell the shop people here to clean this place before they closed yesterday?’

Ah. I clung to it. ‘Yes o. We always tell them, but maybe they forgot yesterday. I came back very late last night, so I didn’t see it until this morning’

‘We are waiting o. Go and bring rake.’ Damn this woman!

We sauntered into the house through the open gate. I was opening my other very pretty neighbour was not around. That one wakes up as though she is in her husband’ house. Always scantily dressed and meek looking. I didn’t want her showing beside me on NTA.

I ran into my room and locked the door, my eyes searching avidly for my lucky pair of 3/4s.
When i came out again, the woman was screaming for us to come out.
My neighbour was still huddled in his room, wishing them away, no doubt. I tried to go lock the gate, but the big woman wouldn’t allow. That is how one retard with a Samsung Galaxy tablet entered my compound and begin taking pictures of the grass in it.

Damn it. That was why I wanted to lock the gate. My compound is newly built, but the developer still intends to add another building, so the place is kinda rough with the entrails of the structure that was demolished there. The grass overgrowing the cement blocks and bits of wood  makes it look neater in my opinion; though my neighbor and I had just discussed paying somebody to cut it down. The land is fertile too. Last year, we discovered that all the tomato seeds we had been throwing away had sprouted.

Guess whose compound did not buy tomatoes for stew last Sallah? #ButThisIsBesideThePoint

The self-righteous dude kept walking around and recording; all the while muttering, ‘See the kind of place you are living. iz like you pipu don’t have shame’

I felt like bashing his head in. He walked back outside after looking at us like we were wolves paying rent in Yaba.
When my neighbor and I came back out, the people had begun moving along.

We managed to grab onto the rake of the pharmacy in front of the building through the ‘burglary proof’ and make a show of using them before the sanitation people moved off. In the end, we did clean up the gutter, but next time , we are hoping the indomie people respect themselves and do it.

I keep hoping that someone somewhere who loves me will not be watching TV when that thing is aired.

Ekwe out.


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Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

SaTurDay TiNz

Hello folks. Been a while since I posted on here. I have been host to a lot of awesome stuff, but i was waiting for something awesomely long enough to contain a whole post.

Now the gods have blessed me.

Bt the way, i write fantasy here


A few weeks ago, I woke up one lazy Saturday morning to find out that there was to be a coronation on the adjacent street. As a result, all the shops were ordered to close down, and for a #TeamAlone somebody like me, that meant I was gonna die of hunger. After mustering up balls to step outside the gate to go get some food, I decided to go and find pepper and eggs so I could perhaps make some jollof rice (I don’t eat meat much, so that hardly factors in my meal choices.)

I stepped out onto an empty street, where I spent a few minutes greeting the business center owner who lives beside. He slept in the shop, and was being careful not to let the Baale’s men see the cracked door of his business centre. I was too hungry to take note of any other thing.

Dressed in my lone pair of 3/4s, I began trolling my twitter TL while walking down the street, LOLing at the tweet of the girl I wanted to set it with, while tasting the jollof rice my cooker would produce for me soon.

As it happened, there was no corner shop I could even hope to get tomatoes from. That left the Baale’s street. It intersects mine in a sort of T-Junction, and since the celebration hadn’t really started, I thought it would be alright to saunter into it like my father owned it.

My eyes were still locked into my twitter TL when my mind told me that something was wrong. It wasn’t the silence, because the street was already silent when I was on it. I stopped and looked up. A lot of things came to my attention at once.

  1. The fetish-looking line of white chalk poured across the entrance of the Oba’s street.
  2. Beyond that, a group of half-naked old men and old spindly women who had stopped their deliberations to look up at the intruder (me)
  3. Beyond them, the two men totting American made m16 rifles with scopes.

I quickly realized with sudden clarity that I was actually the only moving person on my street. I suddenly felt naked and awkward. I stared warily at the line of white chalk and wondered briefly what would have happened if I had not looked up from my phone, I mean, the thing was about five feet away from me!

Everyone on the street was staring hungrily at Ekwe Martin, and I felt like a goat in a Lion’s then. Then came the problem of how to do an about-face and quietly go and die of hunger in my house. I glanced down at my phone. My mouth was now bitter with nervousness, I had possibly impinged on tradition. I asked myself terrible questions. Why always me? Why would I always be the scapegoat for awkward situations?

I looked up at them again, noting the babalawo drawings on their bodies and the awesome whiteness of their waist-girded wrappers. They were still looking at me, as if daring me to cross the white line.

I stared down at my phone again in feigned distraction.

You can’t possibly understand how I felt. It was like walking onto your parents procreating. I was so embarrassed.

I calmly let my legs turn me in the opposite direction and began to walk away very slowly without looking up. I began admiring the rough texture of the road. When I was out of sight of the old men and the men with guns, I managed to look back.

The armed men soon burst out of the gate glancing down the road at me as though I were a spy from a rival traditional ruler.

I managed to get into my house without suffering cardiac arrest. And relaxed on my bed to starve.


That was the first time I had anything to do with the Baale.


Last ‘Environmental’, I was in my neighbor’s room at about 7am when some bloody civilian began banging on our gate. Wearing my 3/4s and a singlet, I was the perfect picture of gauntness and hunger. I looked like an old village teacher, But it was my ‘yard’ and I didn’t care.

I went towards the gate to check on the crazy person. Through the slits, I could see people in green uniforms or something like that, so my razzness was exchanged for caution. I stopped and ran back to arm myself with my neighbor.

The person outside was shouting, ‘OPEN THIS GATE!!’. I knew they were not NEPA because of the uniform, so I was not too  bothered. My neighbor and I opened the gate and stepped outside, ready to pounce on the disrespectful person outside.

We were shocked.

There were about a 50 people outside my gate, about half of them in bright green uniforms. My neighbor and I would not have been embarrassed, but we were wearing rough singlets and looking like village farmers…in front of what looked like three TV cameras….

Stick around, this tale continues… 😀


Thanks for reading tho :*


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cRyInG bRiDe tInz

Happy new year folks. 

Welcome to 2014. Thanks for your interaction with me on here over the last year. I appreciate. Do more -_- You are my reason for living.

I am not here to talk about my new year’s resolution. My life is still sharp and bright.

Well, let’s get down to today’s beans!!

On the 19th of December last year, I took a few days’ leave from work. This was mainly because I had to travel to Owerri for my cousin’s wedding.


Sidenote: Choi! I am so sorry. I was going to write about how my cousin came over to Lagos on Nov 2nd. I forgot, sorry.

Basically, he came to buy some shoes for his sisters who were going to be the bridesmaids and whatnots, and because of my church mind, my dad asked me to accompany him to the market to shop for same. I hate  being in a market on my own, so the prospect of following somebody else to shop was not really appetizing. Anyhow, because he is my awesome cousin (and I do not say so because he might one day stumble upon this blog) I took him to a major lagos market.

That day became one hell of a day.

I kept trying not to lose us, since he had not been to lagos before. Oga was just fleeting through the market and looking for Navy Blue shoes like they were going out of Fashion. At first, when we entered a store, he asked the woman for Coral colored shoes. The semi-literate seller and I(who graduated 2.1 from a reputable university) were like (-____-) ‘what the hell is Coral?’ 

Cousin brought out dying blackberry and proceeded to google the color for us. 

When he showed it to me, I was like, ‘Why didn’t you just say Orange?’

‘Coral is not Orange,’ he said exasperatedly.

‘Looks Orange to me,’ I replied intelligently

‘It’s not orange. We need this shade of Ora-er, Coral,’ He affirmed.

‘Shey you know we are in a market, and all this color specifications will not work for us. Let’s better take an Orange shoe and go on to search for the other ones you want,’ I was pleading now. Markets give me a headache, and one was creeping in on me then. 

The store owner had lost interest in us at this point, but she lazily pointed to one orange shoe. Cousin immediately passed bad judgment on it. Crap.

And the search was on.

Dude was weaving through the market like a reptile, scaring me. I didn’t want to lose him because his battery was dying, and I would not be able to call him to ascertain his location, but the shoes were uppermost in his mind. It was afunny and tiring experience, especially since I didn’t go I was gonna do it until an hour before it began.

Well, to cut the loooong story short, We found a place where we had so many options to choose from. At the beginning, I was impressed as my cousin refused what he called Royal blue and Deep blue. He want Royal blue. I have never seen a princess before, so I wasn’t sure what he was agitated about.

‘This is not the blue I want,’ he would exclaim at some latest exhibit.

The store owner who was hellbent on selling four pairs of blue was going mad. She kept dashing into the market to seek the special blue from some hidden place. Her big eyes grew even wider as her legs worked and my cousin refused on every occasion.

After a while, I just sat one on a bench and began ogling market girls, wondering why so hotly dressed lasses just sat around selling imitation shoes. I couldn’t find the connection. I also wondered where market people went when they wanted to poopoo and weewee.

 After a period of waiting, dude would just stand up and explode

‘Where is this woman?! I have to leave here soon, I have places I am going. I am leaving for Owerri this night!’

He  would start walking about in the crowded arena, going everywhere and nowhere. I just sat still and wondered if they didn’t sell good shoes in Imo state.

In the end, we got what we wanted. Well, some. The other store keepers and I had to plead with him to accept a few minor compromises in pattern. The awesome store keeper woman (who looked a lot like that death defying and acorn-seeking squirrel in Ice Age ) managed to get the Coral shoes and even the bride’s footwear for us. It was actually quite lovely, but was it worth my crazy migraine? Maybe.


She looked like the very attractive version of this stuff.


 Okay, lex get back to the story…


As it turned out, I actually bought myself a suit because of the wedding. Money lost forever -_-

I got to Owerri with my sister early in the morning on Friday the 19th, and headed straight for my family house there. After spending a lazy day, we  headed to said Cousin’s house that evening. It was basically a family reunion since I hadn’t seen some of my other cousins in years. New wife was also there, in all her light-skinned glory.


Wedding day!!!!!!

We arrived at the church at about 10.30am. It was my first time of going to a church wedding rite, and my second time of going to  a wedding at all. As always, I came in time for Drama.

A section of the church was full of the friends and families of the wedding duo. I sat beside one hot  sister like that who was dressed like a bridesmaid with a funky hat. She had this skirt with a left slit up all the way to Jerusalem, but God knows I only had eyes for the Blackberry Porshe Touch she was playing with (._.)

There were another couple scheduled to wed. I missed my cousin’s ceremony, but that was understandable.

 The wedding had been set for 10am, and the other couple was to have gone first. And had erred by coming late. The priest, lacking patience had performed the rites for my cousin and his very very pretty true love. When at last couple number two came, they didn’t bring the complete relevant documents(birth certs, HIV test results, Baptismal card…etc), so the reverend father berated them for coming late. Apparently, the girl sitting beside me was ACTUALLY the chief bridesmaid, but she had been directed to go sit down because she was inappropriately dressed for the wedding.

When I entered the church, and the bride and groom were taking the vow. 

The priest recited the ‘Do you take… to be your lovely wedded husband…’

The microphone found its way to the girls mouth, close enough for her to lick sef, but all the church heard was a very hungry i don’t sounding ‘I do’ after about 10 seconds of waiting. 

The same went for the groom. But the leading preist interrupted and spoke pointedly to the sulking bride before the groom affirmed his love. Hear him:

 Lady, it seems you are not ready to be married today. This wedding was scheduled at 10am, and we all had to wait for you while you came late. When at last you came, you didn’t even come with your complete documents. Now you won’t even reply the priest. If you are not ready to be married today, please go let’s carry on with other things. The Bishop will be here by 11.30 to marry another couple, and I don’t have time to watch you mess up yourself here. This place must be empty before he comes!

At this point, the bride had started crying, and the bestman had to do double duty. I couldn’t hear it, but her face was suddenly reflected as the tears ran down. I was just snickering in my seat. The Bridesmaid girl beside me was at a loss, because now she couldn’t stand to dab tears away from the bride. So she called one of her sisters over from another pew and gave a hanky.

‘N is crying. Please go after they finish so you can wipe her tears with this hanky’

I was like REALLY??? The sister looked about 6years old. How was she supposed to reach up and clean and adult’s tears. But I forgave the girl her slowness, because I like the very long split in her skirt, though I loved her Blackberry more.

They repeated the vows, and the couple replied, but it still sounded forced. They shall never forget their wedding day.

But the wedding was uneventful after that. The reception was Ok, it was only my second ever, so I wouldn’t know how to judge these things. I was impressed to learn that the wedding cake is not shared to the guests. So that whole thing is just for display purpose? Cool. Cool.

My Uncle is a doctor. My Aunt is a Dr(PhD type). My cousin(the first son and recent groom) is a doctor. Two of his younger ones are studying Medicine. His new bride is a doctor. Four of her five brothers are doctors. I think her father is a doctor too.

This state of affairs, as you can now understand, made me sick of the profession.

I wonder how they would agree on the cure for a headache when the time comes.


After the wedding, back at the cousin’s family house, i made it a point to tell his wife how we suffered to get her the shoes she was wearing. Brothers and sisters, i spoke well and did our nation proud, for at the end of my speech, Bride was speechless and had tears in her eyes, to my pride. At last, she said,’And he did this all for me?’

In  my mind i was like (-_____-) ‘We. We. We did this all or you. Never forget that. Full stop.’

If i think of any other exciting thing that happened at Owerri, I will be sure to let you know.


Ekwe, out.


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Categories: Uncategorized | 11 Comments

BaIdAy TiNz

‘Hey Nigga.’

I opened my eyes groggily in the darkness and looked tpwards the door of my apartment. It was only shittu. I picked up my phone and checked the time. 11.30pm.

‘shit’, I said.

I got up slowly and headed for my clothes. It was the 2nd of November, half an hour before my birthday. I had called Yinka the evening before, and told him I was willing to allow myself to be spoiled a little. 

I am basically a recluse. This means that I don’t like gatherings of any kind. I don’t go out. I don’t evemn have clothes to go out. I don’t drink, smoke, womanize( ._.), watch TV, football, play sports. I am a dead person -_- The only time I have been to a club was when Yinka took me to one three years ago, and I only attended my first wedding his year. Yinka is a very social animal, as are all my very very very small circle of friends(who were my roommates all through Uni). Today I felt like indulging because I had been feeling lonely lately. Plus I wanted to go see what all the fuss was about clubbing, again.

Shittu was currently staying with Yinka, so for him to be at my door, it meant Yinka was parked somewhere outside in his beautiful brand-new hot-red ‘Yahoo-boy’ Honda Accord his dad just got him after his Masters in the abroad. Yaay!

Back to the story.

I had promised to buy them a bottle of alcohol at a club if they drove down from Ikeja to pick me( I never like to go anywhere alone, so they would have come to pick me in any case).  It was a promise I made reluctantly because I don’t drink, and I didn’t relish the though of spending thousands on a bottle of the devil’s piss. But it was the only way. I had actually wanted a strip club, but Yinka was bothered about the entrance fees three of us would have to pay, plus he had already arranged to meet with some guys at the club he had planned to go take us to.

I put on a casual shirt, and flung on my jumper(which everyone desires to steal from me) because I don’t like being exposed to cold. Walking out, we joined Yinka and another friend. They wished me a Happy Birthday, and off we went. Yinka is a very silly person most times, but he is pretty cool to hang out with. Since I am so socially inept I trusted his judgement completely. I had no cash on me; they took me first to an ATM so I could knock myself out. I knew I was in for one hell of a night.

I have never understood the deal behind clubbing. The last time I indulged (it was with Yinka, three years ago) I came out in the wee hours nearly stone deaf with a massive headache. I did not enjoy the smell of cigarette smoke, the sluttily dressed girls, the lap-dances (at the strip club. This is one bloody amazing story I can’t tell, lol), the spark which flew anytime somebody just spend a salary on a bottle of champagne. Most of all, I did not understand where the fun was.

But again, I was lonely, and it was my first birthday as a bachelor.

We reach the club (Ikeja) at about midnight. I think it was called Cafe. The first group of girls I saw outside after I left the car and my jacket were obviously prostitutes. I gave yinka all the money I had scrounged from the ATM with my blessings to spend as necessary, since this place was strange terrain for me. There was this very tall ugly girl in front of the car. She was wearing a pink version of that thing Miley Cyrus wore when she twerked on stage. I caught myself looking at where her thighs met, or rather, failed to meet. The place looked funny, like Miley Cyrus’s. She was so thin and tall that all I felt was pity.Her spaghetti top was suffocating her small breasts, making them seem bigger. She was rocking dispassionately from the beat inside the club, like somebody on stilts, and I could not imagine how anybody would want to take her home. As I understood later from the wise lips of my friends, every girl is hot when you are drunk. There were other girls there, dressed so abhorrently that I couldn’t help wondering if they had mothers at home.

Just like this

Just like this

So into the club we went. It was very lively and noisy. They herded my ass straight to the VIP section. Apparently, Yinka and Shittu were regulars at the club (I could not understand how a human being could come to so much noise and smoke at least twice a week), because all they did to get us past the bouncers was smile and say something to the club employee chick there.

We got in and I saw some of the guys we hung out with the last time I entered a club years before. I am an igbo man, so the first thing I automatically did was calculate the club prices of the drinks they had splurged on before we came. I cringed inwardly when the calculation was complete. All the salaries! 

Shittu, who has been dressing like he is still in the abroad, went to sit on a coloured stool to await the drinks while he pinged God-Knows-Who on his Xperia. Oh yeah, we all use XPERIAs (can I get an Amen?)

Team Xperia!

Team Xperia!

I looked around while the noise and dance went on around me. It was like I was in the nexus of a giant speaker. My whole body vibrated to the beat, and I was getting irritated at the club habit of everyone screaming ‘Haaay!’ whenever a new song kicked in. I don’t watch TV. Or listen to Nigerian songs. Or do anything remotely fun, so I had never heard of any of the songs played. I kept thinking of the pandemonium if I were to shout ‘BOMB!’

My friends had already gotten to terms with my weirdness all through school, so they took their time explaining stuff to me, even though they knew I didn’t need. Hahaha. I know I sound pathetic, but I am actually quite fun,  I hear…just not in the conventional ways.

I refrained from blocking my ears with my hands and looking like a total nincompoop while I surveyed the array of writhing bodies around me. The girls! Oh Lord. I caught myself staring too long at cleavages and legs while I  nodded to the beat.

I can’t dance.

At all.

Not one bit.

Not even to save my life. I feel like I am weighted with lead whenever the situation calls for dancing, so I usually look like a dying robot. Yinka and Shittu kept laughing at me and telling me to ‘Turn Up!’.

This adventure had begun to look like an exciting class, and I, the expectant child. I looked on in glee as debauchery went on around me, but I did not partake because I felt out of time and place. I knew I should enjoy myself, but it just did not feel right. I always look at everything calculatingly, so I found myself veering of into tangents as I regarded the dancing , smoking, sweating, lusty, drinking bodies.

Shittu, ever one to embrace the situation, called some girl over and began dancing with her, I watched on while he made her lean against the wall while he came up behind her and..well,danced. It wasn’t sex since they were both dressed, daz all. All I kept thinking was what the girl’s mother would do if she saw her daughter. The girl even took a swig from the bottle -_-

LOOL. I don’t know why I kept thinking of the girls’ mommas.

The drinks came. I think the main alcohol was Hennessy or something.

I was given a shot heavily diluted with cold and chilled with ice. I thought it was bitter. Vey bitter. I couldn’t understand how boys liked shit like this. But I drank up, squeezing my face in disgust. Alcohol sucks. My friends laughed at me and shook their heads at how much I had not changed through the years. I talked(screamed) with them above the noise and we shared a few good laughs and more drinks, until I began feeling woozy. I had not taken nearly enough, and Yinka and shittu were like -______- when I told him I felt tipsy.

‘You realize you have been drinking about 90% coke, right?’, they screamed.

He lifted the bottle. The drink hadn’t even gone halfway.


In the VIP section, there was one very unattractive girl who was very athletic, shaking places I didn’t know could be shook. She was twerking for the world, and everybody who had a penis could come behind her and cup a feel. The force was strong with that one, I could see.

She climbed the stools, the wall hangings, chairs. It is a good thing we can’t walked upside down, she would have danced that way.

No, I did not approach her.

I forced some extra balls to grow and approached one..well, not really approached. She came right in front of me to dance, and I thought it was a good time to give into Shittu’s prompting to slap some asses. Plus I thought it would be a good thing to blog about. She kept looking back at me like she expected me to grab it so grab it I did. If it were in the animal kingdom, I probably wouldn’t have a mate -_- Not when the females were all whores of Babylon -_-

This girl was dark, and thinner than a walking stick. She had on false lashes. I hate false lashes, but every girl wears them now. It makes girls look like prostitutes to me, because I only ever saw those things on prostitutes years ago. I really don’t understand what one would want with false lashes. There is this irritating gummy thing that attaches the lashes, and it just makes me sick to look at, cos it just screams CHEAPNESS to me.

So… I breathed in deeply and grabbed her ass. She turned back slightly with this very condescending look like ‘What is wrong with this one grabbing my nyash?’

I looked back at her like  (._. )(._.) ( ._.)

She began to dance. It was a sexy dance. She went down slowly, twerking sensually. Since I had no idea how to dance despite all the in-club lessons master Dancer Yinka and dancer Shittu had given me, so I just mimicked her movements. Shittu looked at me approvingly, and I just laughed. I imagined I was outside myself, looking at myself, and repressed the disgust I would feel.

The chick went so low I was afraid I was gonna fall on her ass; then it came, the grinding.  Thrusting her small bum into my crotch, she just didn’t let up. I don’t know what she was trying to do, but it worked ( ._.) I responded in kind, all the while noting her expression from behind and ignoring shittu’s ‘blind-eye’.

I really don’t want to write about how I ran my hands down somebody’s daughter’s body, and how it reminded me of … No!

Yeah, so here I was back at my seat, watching the tempo of the club rise. More chicks kept trooping in. By this time, I was fully into observation mode…which was as much fun as any other. I noted the bum short-clad chicks. Well, most of them were like that. One particular ‘yellow’ one had one massive K-leg. I don’t get how you dress skimpily when your leg obviously needs corrective surgery. There were chicks with fat fold wearing short blouses. And the one who seemed to have stopped just short of being completely naked. I ogled boobs until I got tired, and wondered how my friends did it every week. Yinka laughed at my question and told me he was gonna take me to the clubs on the island where chicks with Silicon inplants displayed their wares. I am intrigued.

I danced a little more, calculated how many people had signed up for hell-fire and went to pee. And went again. Thrice -_- What a weist!

Well, all in all, the fun, bitch-dancing and laughter continued into the night. By 5am, they took me home cause I had to wash my clothes and sleep it all off. I was still feeling dizzy from the drink, and in resolved never to let alcohol get within drinkable distance of me again.

On the alcohol thing, my hatred transcends having a distaste for it. I have quite the imagination especially since I began reading weird books at a young age, and my dreams are usually very weird. I shiver when I think of what could happen if alcohol opened up my mind and lowered my inhibitions. Even in my dizziness, I felt like the dark thing was waiting at the edge of my mind, waiting for my defences to fall so that it could ravage me. Of course, I imagine all the awesome stories that would become real to me (yea, I write weird stories at, but my sanity is much more precious.

I had fun sha. I wouldn’t do it again except I were depressed. Which is what I am some rare Friday nights. The rarity of such events in my life make them very novel. My next clubbing will probably be in a few years from now.

Well, on Sunday the fourth, I was blessed by my twitter fam. Great birthday wishes. Some anonymous people called my phone to sing to me. OOMF(one of my followers on twitter) with whom I have had only the most casual online contact called and asked for my office address. She said she was gonna send me a cake. I really thought it was a prank or something. On Monday, the 5th, I was called by some delivery guy. Oh yeah..I better mention how that happened. It was so silly as the guy took a long time to get to the point.

Me: Hello

DG: Hello, is this Ekwe?

Me: yes

DG: Is today your birthday?

Me: Er, No. last Saturday. Who is thi-

DG: Happy Birthday. Wishing you long life and prosperity, and many more years     to come…God will blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…

Me: er…thanks


Me : Who is this? -___-

DG: This is Bayo from (delivery company)

Me: Oh. Ok.


DG: I have a Cake for you from somebody(duh!). Can you confirm the address of your office to me and how to meet with you?

LOL. I was annoyed by the story telling. But I was very pleased with le cake. It’s my first birthday cake. Ever. So I don’t know what was in it. Tasted like ginger. Or raisins. I dunno. Nobody cared about it before :’’’’(

Thank you kind follower :****

I Am Loved :D

I Am Loved 😀

Yh so…that about wraps it up. Later that Sunday evening Yinka came to my house to pick me up for some Owambe. We got lost as we couldn’t find the estate. The Google maps lady wanted to make us travel around Lagos. In the end the party sucked. I came back disappointed that night, but in order to save the day from being completely useless, I opted to buy Yinka and his brother BBQ fish and chips, so we sat at a bar while I endured the sight of their alcohol as I cradled my Malta Guiness

And we ate.

My neigbours were beynd shock to see me out so late. It was the first time I was staying out so late, and they all congratulated me and hoped the change would be permanent. Yes, everybody takes me as their responsibility. Lol. I am drowning in love…or am i?

Ekwe, out.

Ps: I walked in on my neighbour’s girlfriend yesterday. The Calabar SideChick. She was naked, and didn’t freak out, but the Lord drew me close (.-.)

All the awesome things happen to me. I would totally be a celebrity if I were more social. LOOL

Enjoy, RT and leave a comment 😀

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sIdE ChIcK TiNz

So there I was on saturday, in my boxer shorts, contemplating taking a bath and going to computer village to buy some software for a project I am working on, when a desperate knock rang on my door. My neighbour, Fatai, called my name.

Now I am very self conscious, and detest being seen half-nude by unfamiliar people; I didn’t know the door was unlocked, and so was surprised when the handle clicked open.

The following events happened too fast for me to follow.

I reached the door the same time Fatai opened it, which was strange, since he was always respectful enough to knock and wait in the short time we had been neighbours.

The  brightness outside hit my eyes violently, but my stupefaction was complete when Fatai thrust a fine light-skinned girl right through the doorway with a flurry of incoherent jabbering.

‘Just wait here, my friends are still in the room. Let me escort them out and come get you’, my guy was agitated.

”Why don’t you want me to see your friends. Abi why don’t you want them to see me?’ quipped the girl, who I later discovered was from Calabar.

“You won’t understand, what is wrong with you na?” my neighbour was beginning to sound like a scared cat.

I just stood there, in my boxer short, soap in hand. I was standing still. While I watched the scene play out, I was trying to figure out how to get to my jeans and put them up without looking silly.

Fatai pushed the girl to my bed(!! I had just purchased new sheets an hour before). and sat down with her.

‘Chacha, they came from a far place, and we have been discussing important things. Just wait here and give me a moment’

‘You still haven’t answered my question’

I gently strode to where I had strewn the jeans on the floor, and boldly put it on. I killed my neighbour in my mind and drank his blood while I bristled silently at this unscheduled embarrassment. He stood up abruptly, told the chic to wait for him, and flew out my door. It was apparent the real girlfriend in his room would be wondering where he went.

The calabar girl looked up at me.

‘Sorry for the inconvenience’ her voice was gentle and sweet.

And sounded silly -_-

I, being socially awkward, meekly offered her a drink. She declined politely.

The room was now silent. I felt really awkward standing there watching the girl giving the room the once-over. I didn’t know what to do. So i made something up.

I decided to go out and buy plantain chips.

Excusing myself, I put on a shirt and ran out of my own house in annoyed embarrassment.

So folks, that was how I began walking the streets, looking for plantain chips. After finishing a pack, I randomly decided to buy Indomie. I was just trying to kill time so she would leave my room. I began took to spying on my door from outside the main gate, waiting for it to open and for the girl to angrily troop out. I mean, she should be angry, right? right -_-

After a long time, I decide she had probably left before I took to watching from the gate, so I confidently went in and entered my room, hoping she didn’t run away with the macbook on the bed.

I met her stretched, sleeping peacefully on my bed.


I couldn’t imagine sitting on the bed next to her.

So I decided to clean the kitchen.

Fully dressed, I did the dishes, pots and cutlery, swept the floor, disposed the garbage…and stood staring down at the sleeping figure. I went back into the kitchen, picked a spoon and hit a pot violently with it. That brought her shooting out of my bed, to my extreme pleasure. All through this, i couldn’t help but marvel at the girl’s apparent stupidity and total acceptance to sleeping on my bed. Normally, i would have thrown the girl out of my room while my neighbour was shoving her in, but I don’t know what held my innate razzness in check.

She got up, and told me she was leaving. I made the necessary regretful noises and opened the door for her to gerrout.

Positively jubilant  i danced into the bathroom, took an awesome shower and got dressed up. I called my guy in computer village to tell him I was coming. He didn’t pick the call, so I held on. I went outside the to use the big windows as a mirror as i had no full length mirror. As I was busy preening myself like a gay person, somebody called out to me.

‘Are you going out right now?’

I turned in shock to see this chick coming out from my neighbour’s room. I was quite sure the other girl hadn’t left that room, so how come i didn’t hear screams and the sound of tearing bras as when was alone in the room? I replied in the negative, since i wasn’t interesting in walking the streets in the hot sun. The girl was bearing a laptop in her hand, signifying that she had come to stay. SHe entered the room as though she paid the rent, with a shocked me following closely behind,

It was right here that I noticed her behind, but da Lord was with me, and I quickly forgot about it ( ._.). Really.

She settled in my bed and began browsing the internet with a modem she brought along. I had no choice but to sit on my own bed and make small talk. I was most happy when at last my guy called me back and told me to come on, giving me the opportunity to remove the girl.


Later on, my neighbour recant the whole thing to me. Apparently the girl entered back into his room, met his real GF, and was kinda totally cool with it. I mean, this girl actually slept in that house same day.

I want a calabar girlfriend -____-

Ekwe, signing out.

Forgive and forget the typos abeg. I have a bloody headache.

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sTress TiNz



I haff suffer

I mean this, though I didn’t see it as suffering when I started. When I got my present job I was excited. Really excited. I promptly forgot about my motion sickness,and that I was a total recluse who didn’t know anywhere in Lagos, though I have lived here all my life.

I work on the island, and that meant the journey from Ikorodu had to be planned in advance. I don’t go out much, so i didn’t realize what i was getting myself into until my first day.

I had to wake up 3.30am, take my bath and re-orient myself, so that i could walk out of my house by 4.30am. It took me 15mins to walk to the busstop, wherein i would get a bus and arrive VI in exactly thirty minutes. If i left my house just ten minutes later than 4.30, i would arrive at the bus-stop just in time to make the traffic jam. This meant that I would have to suffer terrible motion sickness for the legendary two or three-hour traffic that happens on Ikorodu road every morning. Waking up by 3.30 was better than sleeping till 6.00 and having motion sickness.

I used to get to work by 5.30, to the utter surprise of the security guards, as the first staff. Then I would wait 30 minutes till 6.00am so that the elevators would be powered up and the building lights turned on, wherein i would now ascend to my section on the eight floor.

At the close of work each day, I would leave at 6pm on the hour, reach obalende by 7 after suffering through traffic, and head for the BRT terminus. I normally stayed on the queue till about 8, 8.30, or sometimes 9pm, hopped on the available BRT and sleep all the way to Ikorodu. Through the irritating lagos road situation, i usually reached my busstop at about 10,11, or midnight sometimes, and walk the long way home, usually too fired up too eat or drink. I slept an average of 4 hours a day on weekdays for five months 🙂

Well, I attribute it all to the strength of God. I didn’t fall ill, or even get a headache until i began the pampered life of a mainland citizen -_______

The routine did not vary during all the months, so I kinda suffered. I could have easily entered a small bus to Ketu, then joined another to Ikorodu, but i would be very unhappy because the heat and proximity to people would trigger motion sickness nausea and claustrophobia. I am pretty socially retarded, so I had nobody to squat with in the meanwhile. Haha. it was a hard life, now that i think about it.

Spot the red centipede!

Spot the red centipede!

Yes, you get the point. The fact that I have motion sickness influences important Life Decisions for me. LOL.

I didn’t mind the stress though, because i was excited at my new job. I had great people, great atmosphere, a cool boss(whose awesome wedding i shall blog about next) and a job i loved because it was a passion ( I am a graphic designer -____-)

So I persevered for about five months before , through a series of fortunate events, I got permanent accommodation on the mainland. Well, at least now I have a story to tell my children each time any one of them tries to inculcate laziness. Even my dad was humbled by the effort I was expending to stay away from him. Lol. I only saw him on weekends even though we lived in the same house.

All in all, it has been a great seven months for me. Finished service, got a job immediately after. I actually finally have an opportunity to leave my reclusive shell, though i doubt that will be possible for the next few years.

The picture of Jesus that ibo people think about.

The picture of Jesus that ibo people think about.

More stuff coming pretty soon. Sorry for any typos, typed this quickly at work.

Ekwe, out.


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QuEuE and sHit Tinz

Now that I have welcomed you, lemme tell you a story. or two.

It was at the end of a long and hard day that I finally reached Obalende BRT Terminus. I happened to join the line just before an old man came in behind me. He didn’t stay right at my back, so it was kind if hard to be sure if he was actually the last person.

I stood looking lamentably at the long queue in front of me. Tired and wondering why hot girls never went to ikorodu in the evenings…when some guy came up behind me.

Trust Nigerians. When we enter a queue, we always ask the last person we see if he is really the last person on the line. This isn’t because we are silly or retarded, but the last people on a queue have a bad habit of randomly leaving the queue and travelling elsewhere to buy corn, or gala or just sit around.

So the young man touched me.

‘Sorry, Are you the last person?’

I shook my dead wearily and nodded at the old man who had joined me seconds after I came. He was standing kinda distant from the line, but he shuffled closer to me as he probably sensed some threat to his position.

The young man turned to the old man,
‘Are you the last person?’

By this time I had turned away and began thinking of bleached boobs (‘_’)

Then I heard it.


I reluctantly forgot about the boobs and turned behind me. The New citizen was standing embarrassed and he looked at me helplessly. He began to foolishly make amends.

‘It’s just a question sir, Are you the…?’


More people who were joining the line had started looking at the pair. The old man kept fuming.


Now I closely regarded the old man. He was a balding man. He had a rough face overrun with lines evincing labors of a hardlife and had on a shirt which looked like a parachute. His trousers were much too wide for his legs and his terribly worn shoes were begging for retirement. He carried a black nylon bag. He looked just right for his role.

We have all met them. Those stern looking men who looked like they were born to be disciplinarians. They are patently unhappy with their life and therefore make life difficult for everyone else.

This same scene repeated itself a few days later…but with a different man who was dressed the very same way.

But the evening was not yet ended.

After the BRT at last came into the terminus, the ticket sellers began selling. I didn’t have change, so I turned to the old man behind me to give me his 200 naira so I could pay for both of us. He gave me two 100naira notes.

I looked down at the money and nearly wept. True to character, they looked like they has just finished swimming through a gutter and running through a saw mill. There were strips of tape and straight gashes everywhere on the money.

I never did spend that money. As soon as I got home, I threw them in my drawer, embarrassed.

So…yeah.. *shrug*

But my getting home was not uneventful either.

I happened to fall asleep once i entered the BRT bus. That is my defense mechanism against motion sickness (and maybe we can name it as the reason why i never ever know the way to anywhere until i get there.)

so yh.. i woke up at one point and stared out the window. I saw that we were in the very centre of Third Mainland bridge, still. The bus was not moving, and for one moment, i feared that it had broken down. I asked one of the guys standing there what was happening. He replied to me in yoruba.

‘We are waiting for her.’ Not really understanding what he was talking about, i was inspired to lean forward and look out the far window. I was just in time to see a fat chick with big booty drawing up her jeans over her waist. It was pretty dark but the headlights of the speeding cars illuminated that section. I could not for the life of me imagine how the fat ,obviously yoruba -_- girl had crossed a busy bridge from the middle lane at 8pm.

I asked the man again why we were waiting for her. Turns out she had caused the bus to halt because she wanted to take a shit,then run off the bus and sat on that bridge thingly, pointed her ass over the lagoon that God hath made and shat into it.

Only yoruba people can do this.

Ekwe Martin



Don’t forget to comment. and share. and subscribe. I dinor have power to tag you pipo on twitter. My boss is always behind me 😀

sorry for the lack of pictures. My phone is not nearby.

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Hello..and Welcome :)


Its a new month!

Hello and welcome to my blog. Again -____-

As you will realize from my blog history, I haven’t been on here since I finished Service back in February. But it is all for good reason.

The last few months, in one word, have been quite unexpected. A lot of things changed so quickly that I was wracked with indecision concerning the future of this here blog…but now I have got it all sorted out. Plus I owe my presence here again to some special people who just wouldn’t let me be until I wrote about what awesome or funny thing was happening in my life.

Ah… I feel the writing energy coming back… *sighs gratefully.


All the king’s sperm

I am sitting here this lovely evening at the office, back to the approaching sunset which settles over an awe-inspiring landscape, hunched over the mac as I write this, and a feeling of gratefulness washes over my being as I consider all that has gone, and envision all that will be.


I got a job! 😀
Through the most providential means, (and the recommendation of a twitter friend I never met until the day of my job interview), I got handed a job in a very reputable organization

*eyes scanty CV with love*

Yup, so I am currently going through my first job experience from the top; a thing which only the sovereign God could have wrought. For those of you who don’t know, I am a self-taught Graphic Designer and 3d modeler.

Anyhow, before this intro post gets boring, I want to welcome you once again to my blog. In this corner, I shall continue to record my weird observations and detail my unusual experiences with the life around me.


Regarding my other ‘Divine Fiction’ blog, I would like to thank you guys who take time out to inspire me to write more for it. Yes.. I have been writing. Did I hear somebody say there have been no new posts on there in months? Well, that’s because I am still writing. heard me, Writing. A very long story.

Writing a story so long it will make Efe cry blood as he struggles to the very far end, a story so devastatingly horrible that you hearts will fight to escape your chests; or if you are an A-cup girl, your chest still -_-

But really, it has been difficult writing for the blog because of a lot of the changes I mentioned above, but I am working on something I hope will thrill you and make up for the apparent neglect…which brings me to the subject of the current crop of bloggers in this hallowed blogville.

But maybe I will talk on that another day. All you silly juvenile pipu who think having wordpress accounts and disturbing my TL with sub-standard drafts is what we are here for. I am coming for you (‘_’)

In my next post, I shall try to bring you up to speed regarding all the awesome water that has passed under the bridge, since I left Kaiama back to Lagos after the completion of my Youth Service. I shall prolly put it in a series, because I remember so many awesome stuff, and I know not where to start from 😀

Subscribe n share! Darris what you are here for.


Ekwe Martin,

Categories: journal | 4 Comments

Signing Out tinz

11:43am 11th Feb: Roaring with lafta. The students are, for the first time, presenting a drama in our honor. They are mimicking three particularly quirky (me included) corpers  to the enjoyment of the entire staffroom. They are portraying the ills of corpers who think they are too big to be posted to village settings and all that stuff.

I didn’t know the teachers knew my name sha. They have never had reason to call it in the past year


It is a box of massive mugs -_-

Well.. I thank Yahweh for his mercies and grace. For life, riches and good fortune. NYSC ended on Thursday
(Valentine’s) for I and about 2000 other corpers in kwara state. I will miss Kaiama greatly, and remain ever thankful for this experience. It was my first stab at independence. I will miss carrying water on my head, Nd eating so much Akara/bread.


Basking in the friendzone :'''( no more!!

I will always live now with a renewed sense of privilege after spending about a year in squalid Kaiama, Kwara state. I will miss my former students. Hmm, now that I think about it, I didn’t make any Kaiaman friend. This habitual keeping to myself is something I hope to work on during this period.


Mercy,Ekwe, Ogechi

I stayed at a hotel on Unity Road, Ilorin. Ilorin is sooo busy! Plus it looks like a very old town instead of a modern city. Here and there, you see signs of forced urbanization. Eww.


George and I at the stadium

The POP itself was boring as hell. I don’t believe I travelled 4hrs over bad roads to see a parade march if about 30mins (which no one actually looked at as we were all busy catching up with acquaintances we last saw during camp). Even the governor sent a low level rep. Yes, low level. The dude had no security detail.


With my CLO

Saw my camp love ^.^ She was more bothered about if I had found a job than the fAct that I was still alive. I really got irritated and told her to finish Service first before she bothered about job. She really gave me the idea she lacked confidence in ever getting employment. Hian.


When I looked gay without my moustache

The thing was soon over, and the whole stadium burst into frenzied activity as we all went to queue up for our certificates. I wanted to make an issue when I saw my name was spelled ‘Martins’. I honestly hate the S at the end of it. It’s so Nigerian *shivers

Anyhow, I am safe at home now, thank Yahweh, and confronted with the slight dilemma of what I am going to do next. I am already bored, nd miss carrying the ever-protective corper ID Card about. The weekend is crawling by 😥

Ah. Yes, everyone peeps asking me if I am gonna do a or something. I have already sworn myself that University is the end of my conventional academic life, all things being equal. I just can’t deal with classroom things anymore. I am very proud of my friends who have recently finished their MSc in the abroad 😀 Now they can cover for me!

This will be the last corper related post. I don’t know what to do with this blog now. Open to ideas tho, in the absence of which a deletion will prolly take place. Somebody suggested it being converted into the blog of an ‘applicant’

Anyhow, my very irresponsible priority is to get a new phone! 😀 … as soon as the money somehow appears (._.)

In conclusion, the Youth Service,especially as it happened in a rural area, is an invaluable experience for me. I dare say if you served in a city, you didn’t really serve. I mean, we all already live in cities. I learned a lot about myself during this past year. I have been given the informal award of ‘strangest person I have ever met’ by almost everyone I have encountered in the last year. LOL. Late last year, I actually considered going for a psychiatric test or something. My corper nebos usually look at me and shake their heads, and say something like ‘Thank God I did youth service this year, else I would never have met anyone like you’. Even my former indigenous neighbours gossip and shake their heads at me. Why can’t I tie my towel under my arms without drawing evil stares? -_-

Enough gushing! I have awesome hope for the future and all, you know. Money must be made as soon as possible. How else will I afford all those fancy hi-tech gadgets 😀


Accepting donations o ._.

I absolutely cannot forget to thank my twitter family, as you have always asked after me (even though you don’t send money -___-) My twitter sugar-mama gets the first mention yo! Valuta is a really wonderful woman and script writer. She actually offered to send me money during the allowee wahala of April/May.

Thank you guys for keeping me amused by visiting this page. You people are just awesome. The Jewish sorceress Chioma is an awesome someborri, Edwin is my muse for life, HL_blue is a self-confessed fan (greatness!), Ejayuru cares for me, Chicasa still didn’t send me money, deepti, my big fore-headed twitter love (@MlleShafau) , Sweetie kept me writing here by bugging me about corper posts…mehn, you people are too many and too awesome. I am typing on a phone jare, hand dey pain me. God bless all of you.

(p.s I know some of you just wanted to set P 😀  I am available now o. But you wee bring food o -_- I don’t have money ._.)

I should prolly get a girlfriend :/ who wants to toast me,? I am too shy (._.)


Ayam too thin tho

I am Ekwe Martin,Graduate of Computer Science department,
Babcock University, Graphic Designer nd Up-coming 3d animator, Amateur fantasy writer, Enthusiast Script-Writer, Hopeful Movie Director…

(unrelated – I just discovered that you can Like somebody’s Like on Facebook. Why the bloody hell would anyone Like the fact that you Like another thing? Why would fb put that option? Na wa o. Mchew)

And this is how I sign out.



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SOcIal Tinz



Her hips are awesome!!!

Yesterday was a social night/party for outgoing-corpers. I was privileged to be among the panel of judges for Miss Hotlegs, Mr Handsome and Mr Macho. It was a really fun night, tho the event started about 8 and lasted till midnight.

The highlight for me was the drama piece, artfully put together by somebody who wanted to immortalize a certain crop of out-going corpers.

I was immortalized yo! ^.^

Apparently, I am the second most popular corper. The first is a self-acclaimed Yahoo guy who keeps talking about all the money he has in all his account. His name is CY. He walks funny, and brags a lot, but he is a really good guy. He is always ready to buy a beer or two for any group of people. Infact, two nights ago, he was wooing a new corper. I was nearby. All I heard him talking about was his business that paid and his scam that didn’t pay. I could feel the frustration from the buxom girl as she listened while clutching the juice he bought for her to get her attention.

In the drama,CY was played by a (possibly crazy) corper who kept repeating financial figures while before the equally dramatic LI.

There I was at the judges table,tinkering with my phone when someborri screamed my name from the audience. I looked up in time to see an actor come in reading a dictionary and pointing at the sky. Oh my God. I have never laffed so hard. About 200 corpers kept pointing and laffing at/with me. The actor kept muttering nonsense to himself and reading and …:'(

People were literally rolling on the ground as they remembered how I was always walking about and muttering to myself while reading from my World War Two novel.


Also dramatized was trulily, a female corper who is always talking about how she is getting married/has gotten married as though we have never seen a married person before.

The others are irrelevant.

Oh yeah, they also played a certain corper who was relocated to a mental hospital after he smoked weed after his first week in Kaiama and nearly ran mad. Prolly his village people. The LI came to talk to him where he was prone, and received a heavy slap for his troubles. Lool.

I have achieved greatness!!

It was a really great night. Just had a female visitor here from the latest batch who has been telling me how every detail of my life has been debated upon in the lodge In the 48hrs since she actually met me. I have been laffing from hearing exaggerations. I knew I was known, but I didn’t expect the about 300 corpers I hadn’t met to actually know me that well.

(Last week, while going for CDS, one tall,unfamiliar female corper came to me.

‘Are you the one called Ekwe?’, she asked with a straight face.
‘Yes I am’, I replied with a smile, thinking I was about to be propositioned (.-.)
‘I have heard your name so many times in the last two days that I am now getting sick of it’, she spat.

I was taken aback. So I just smiled and entered my CDS meeting without further discourse.

Anyhow, today is the camp fire night. We expect to eat roast yam and dance like our pants are on fire after chanting military music.

Funny thing happened at the bank today. Corper was trying to get In front of me on the queue. I just bluntly told the girl that I  have to breast boobs as payment -_-

Amazingly, she entered the line and lifted her arms. I….well, grabbed her boobs from behind. Rather, I grabbed her thick bra from behind…and squeezed. I cudnt feel any boobs because the bottom heavy girl didn’t have any,just hard bra ._. The people in the bank were surprised at the audacity. I caught the assistant manager stealing glances sef.

Ok na. Will tell tonight’s story tomorrow. Can’t wait to pass out next week

I need help.

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