Get a Man as you would a Car. Top 5 Checks +1


“Money may not buy happiness, but I’d rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.” ― Françoise Sagan
There is something almost erotic thrilling about buying a car that gets you restless, overly eager to get behind the wheel… to determine how much speed will take you to where you need to be, when to leave the house, where to go, which route to take, what music to listen to and gosh how your car smells! The complete control of deciding these variables leaves one euphoric, breathless, even orgasmic. Ok, that’s going over the top. My point is, buying a car is one thing that signifies a level of accomplishment. If it is your first car….it is certain that sleep eludes you days before actual purchase.
In a typical Nigerian scene, the mother is running out in wrapper and rushing to molest rub, shout and anoint the new automobile while calling neighbors to witness how good papa God is andloudly shaming the devil on his failure to stop her child from buying a car. The father is majestically walking with a stick, looking to the skies, muttering ancestral sentences before breaking into a shout “my son, you shall be great; you have made me, your father, Mazi Ekene, proud”. Again, I digress.
So why do I say get your man as you would a car? Well here it is – it is because more often than not, you are going to be heavily invested in the new ‘liability’ and when the need arises for repairs, routine maintenance or selling – and trust me, it always comes up – no one is going to borrow you cash to fix your car or take it off you in a heartbeat. Unless your car is kabu-kabu a taxi that generates revenue for contingencies like these, you are going to shell out serious kudi; and if your man is kabu-kabu a taxi that generates revenue – emm, male ashewo in your employment, then by all means simply ensure his engine is solid and can pick up at any given time, T and you are good to go.
Now, whether you want to buy used or tear-rubber car, it is inevitable that you ask for information about cost, availability, car seller, car features among others. In no particular order, here are six things you need to check for before making that purchase.
Let me put it out there before we go further ‘Never allow another person buy a car for you without physically inspecting – especially if you are paying for it’. Everyone has an opinion of the best car for you – from the engine type, fuel consumption rate to suitability for your gender. If you are a woman looking to get a car, you will be lectured about cars *meant for women – when you see the cars, you will understand my irritation. Apparently, gender inequality has infiltrated into cars. But again, I digress.
Is the man in question a Toyota? Lexus? Jaguar? Lamborghini? Ford? Honda? Mazda? Audi? Kia? or our Innoson?
You have got to know what brand suits your personality. A colleague would rather be amputated than drive a Picanto. Know what type of man you want. Kind? Sensitive? Rugged? Smart? Funny? Creative? Hustler? Efficient? Dependable? Economical? Strong? Fast? Sophisticated? Of course there’s the combination of character/traits found in these cars as there is in men. Find the right mix for you. Don’t depend on third party recommendation or validation of the merits of a particular brand over another. Find the best combination and make an informed choice on the brand that suits your person.

So we have decided what brand you are most comfortable with but equally important is your budget. This largely determines if you are getting a new or used car. Getting a new car is like getting a new man with no encumbrances. You kick and it starts – usually, this is a new born male. Unless you are a pervert, a new born baby shouldn’t sexually excite you. In the case of getting a man, darling, he is a used good. Accept it. He is above 18? Then yes, he is used. Let’s talk used car.
You need to check how many kilometers it has covered. How far has he gone in his life? How old is he? Does the man have excess baggage? Married, Divorced with kids? Has a baby mama or a host of babies mamas? Does he have a career? Is he broke? Comfortable? Where is he financially? Is he emotionally matured and spiritually ready to kneel in prayers and not allow you carry that part of men’s cross that they conveniently hang on the woman’s neck?(for our religious audience). Is he a V4, V6 or a V8? What is the capacity of the engine and how sound is it? Is he fast? Economizes fuel? Does he have HIV/AIDS, Sickle Cell Anemia, Low Sperm Count, Diabetes?
And still on engine – you have to check his ‘garage’ to make sure he is parked well. You may have to use bed methodology if it is right for you. If it is not, you may have to take a verbal confirmation of soundness from the man and hope the ‘engine’ is in perfect working condition for the use you have in mind for it. Some ladies demand a test-run and others wait for matrimonial verification exercise – by all means you have to CHECK if he is working! Use your hand to measure by the planned touching or accidental brushing method. Is he long? Strong enough? Staying power of a horse? Rise and fall ability? This is the time to sample with eyes, hands or *clears throat.
You have to be sure he is sound and ready to serve you for a really LONG time. We don’t have the luxury of getting another car especially when we drive out of the car mart aka wedding venue. Oh well you can, but hopefully you don’t.

Some ladies may not mind a modest or ugly car interior or exterior but some of us do. A car is a car they say. I used to think so too. Not anymore. A car is not a car. You have to ascertain your man inside out. Is the man well put together? Ok plain English – does he look good? Smell good? Brush his teeth? Wash his socks? Air his shoes? Cuts his nails? Groom his beards? DOES HE BATH AND WASH down there???!! There is a level of being rugged that is sex appeal and then there another that is pure dirt…..unattractive and repulsive. He is clean on the inside? His thoughts always negative? A pessimist? A chauvinist? A beautiful mind? Brilliant? Ordinarily, the exterior can be fixed (usually expensive and with the cooperation of the man) but the interior is almost impossible. You may want to avoid unnecessary problems and sidestep men with interiors that need Jesus.

If you don’t like those maroon and brown uniformed people and their demonic colleagues in white and black stopping you and collecting cash (legal or illegal), I suggest you get your papers in order. Does the car have custom clearing? A vehicle license, proof of ownership, road worthiness and permits, insurance certificate? Seller agreements? Are the car papers in your name?
You have to make sure you don’t go out and some chick walks up with gum in her pouted mouth, claiming your man. Avoid situations where you can’t go out with him or tell your family about him because he is married, not up to your ‘class’ or simply unavailable. Living on the edge may be thrilling and especially for cheaters enjoyable but nothing beats going out with that man confidently that he belongs to you.

Usually, I don’t care if the car leaks fuel but there is no way I am using a car with no air conditioning. Minus the noise it cuts out when one is driving, there is a feeling of ease, rightness and contentment that air conditioning brings. You need to choose a man that brings peace, ease and comfort. A man that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. A man that is affordable – what do I mean? He needs to be within the range of what you can afford financially and emotionally. Some men are emotionally expensive. They stretch your patience and ability to swallow shit and drink piss. Relationships are not supposed to be hard and one-sided. It is a give and take. If he is not emotionally available and financially low, you will be the fulcrum. Bills on you. Days of uncertainty all on you. Are you ready to be with him even if it is draining your pocket?
Air bag….hmmm, saves lives. I tell you the whole truth. Does the man give you a sense of security? Can he save you when you hit a rock? How secured are you with him? And ah yes! Sound….do you want a man that can keep a conversation or you would rather he is quiet and allows you do all the talking. Either ways, make sure he is right for your person. Navigation – He really needs to know where he is going sweetie. Yes, navigation systems in our cars here have issues taking you to the exact destination but sadly we know what’s responsible for that. It is one of two things, know where you are going to and take him there or make sure he knows where he is going and he takes you there. Our church people call it vision. Does he have a vision or he is just looking to follow the crowd? Ask him questions, observe his ways, study his decisions and determine if he is the right man for you.

So we agree that it is impossible to change a human being. But what if his spare parts are readily available? What if he is easy to change his mindset or decisions about issues that are negative and unproductive? What if he is one who listens and tries to reason with your suggestions? Hey! I am not saying push it down his throat madam I-too-know. Polite suggestions work best….yes, I happen to have that experience.
And in cases where you simply need a transition car, then you need to consider his reselling option. Can you dispose of him quickly or he is going to be hanging on your neck for years? Sometimes, when it is not working, it is best the cords are cut civilly. Don’t have an ex that just won’t leave the picture but keeps haunting you for the rest of your life! Make sure you are not tied down with a man that only takes up space in your garage. Like they say, nothing lasts forever.
Buy Get Smart, Drive for Miles.

P.S: I would love to have your comments….share your experiences on getting a new car and relate to what you want in your mate. Should be fun.

Have a great week!

Written by Uneñ Ameji. She is @UnenAmeji on twitter


Writer’s Block and what it truly is…WARNING: Reader Discretion is Advised.


“A Writer’s Block is a fancy phrase to justify absence from writing or simply a case of complete cluelessness” ~ Uneň Ameji

There, I said it! Boom-ba! (Blame Patoranking…..)

So it has been a while since my hasty fingers made contact with these black responsive keys. The clicking sounds, the euphoric feeling of emptying your thoughts, seeing your thoughts come alive and walk on pages’ streets, the magic or absolute chaos created….oh! the rush…..but then, I have been suffering from this condition for only writers – “Writer’s Block”.

It has been a while since I called myself a writer with a straight face or truly meant it – of course I still call myself one when I am in the mood to create an exotic personality that’s increasingly becoming common and embarrassingly cheap – a fact I believe has something to do with free blog sites and freedom to spew rubbish and call it art.

This reminds me of a time free notebooks and pens were given and the cute English Aunt told us to write and draw whatever we wanted to….the outcome as you rightly anticipated……utter rubbish. But the beautiful toothless smiles on faces of the happiest culprits… the greatest writers and artists the world would come to know – the exercise was a memorable one. Fast forward decades later and I am in need of round glasses, bulgy eyes, brown dusty libraries and a secluded writing pad to go with this bold but demanding title….writing is hard work if you did not know…..especially if you regard it serious enough to be good at it.

Now, imagine you are lying down, prepped for surgery on the operating table about to go ‘under’ and the Surgeon walks in, with a solemn look on his pious face, he takes his scalpels and he announces he has just experienced a serious pre-surgical condition called a “Surgeon’s Block” or a Bank Teller can’t get your Cheque cashed because suddenly, he can’t seem to figure out how to confirm the Cheque because he is having a “Teller’s Block”. I am pretty sure the manager will be the next place you’d be stopping and if he has “Manager’s Block?” I pity you.

You see, if we must be taken seriously as writers and not freelance loafers aka twitter fighters with amusing hashtags such as #PayWritersNow #NoMoneyNoWriting #PayBeforeIWrite #SupportWritersOrDie #NeverSayDieTillYouWrite, #MoneyForBankWritersForGround, the phrase “Writer’s Block” must be removed from the words that exist in our writosphere…..yes, I made that up. I am a WRITER. Professionals in all fields do what they have to do because their job or dream is on the line. How about they do what they must to survive and pay bills?! You should know that whether you are comfortable or impressed with what you have written, you should keep writing. After all, No be all the time puff-puff dey dey golden brown.

So again, why do I use the term “Writer’s Block” you ask?

Here are some of my deepest reasons…be nice.

1. To sound interesting and mightily mystical

To be a writer_ unpublished, unknown, unfaced or relatively published_ you have to appear to be soooooo interesting that the next person will feel like if he/she does not appreciate the permutation and combination of the words swimming in your head, the evidence of kryptonic books, articles and poems you have written under intense bible-like inspiration and the rapturous boom ba explosion when you open your mouth to read the book that you painstakingly and haphazardly wrote or give a half-baked speech at TEDx, then life as they know it will cease to exist – literally. Now imagine if this force of nature, this interesting life’s source suddenly experiences an unexplainable condition known as “Writer’s Block”? Oh my!

2. To have opinions that are taken as the absolute truth or nearest in meaning…especially after an episode of “Writer’s Block”
Remember the fanatical twitter fight on who pays tithe, why it should be paid in the first place, to whom it finally reaches and how it mysteriously disappears after you drop it in the divine collection bowls or the bottomless altars? Ok…..just adjust that a little and you will understand why it is absolutely necessary to once in a while experience a condition that is somehow likened to a celestial mandate that must not be understood but swallowed without any form of doubt or stupid questions. No such thing as common sense as to the validity of this tithing “Writer’s Block” celestial mandate.
P.S (Google Tithing and Nigerian Pastors if you have no idea what that is)
3. To impress really fabulous men. Not just any man….a fabulous man who can read!
Okay….so I don’t know if this really works but it had to make the list…..Yes, I like men who can read! It is a turn on huge deal if there is any need for the handshake to go beyond the elbow as Okonkwo in Things Fall Apart would say. Being good at making lies stories up as I breathe, having light bulb moments in traffic or when taking fat ass-splitting dumps in the mornings but finding it difficult and time-consuming to write down these lovely inspirations (forget the writing pad and pen approach – it doesn’t work when I am in serious meeting with Mama Ngozi….na who wan stand up); it therefore becomes fashionably cute to talk about these bright ideas and stories straight from your celestial brain and have no evidence whatsoever in written words. If he asks why it has never made any of your writings (of course he has read some good writings from you), simply roll your eyes and name the most fathomless condition of all time for exotic species – “Writer’s Block”. That should keep him engrossed for a while.
4. To refuse writing gigs for over-bearing, no-paying, rude original article hustlers.
I am hoping the person I coined this reason for doesn’t get to read this…..not because I’m afraid of hurting feelings but because he would get to know the real reason behind my all time favorite excuse – I am having a “Writer’s Block” and will continue to bug my life. Really though, how can I write when I am in this deep black condition? A condition where I’m deaf to my surroundings like in August Rush but somehow orchestrate a masterpiece, a terrible condition where my eyes see nothing – not even the fashionably dressed dude who heavily drops weighty ke-le-be suffering from yellow fever on my right foot. This condition makes my nose lose its ability to smell scents and odor even when overloaded soak-aways are opened right before me and my tongue? It since expired the day I ate fermented rice and cow-piss stew from a food seller who cooks behind a “motel” after an awful episode of hunger bolt struck me – like Samson. Don’t get me started on my fingers…..they experience some strange form of selective rigor motif when it comes near any form of keyboard or pen when it knows I am about to write an article or a book. I am sorry dear but I can’t help that I have this condition – “Writer’s Block”.
P.S (Real Meaning – I don’t ever want to write another article for you ever-ever-ever again. You gete-it?)
5. To enjoy my free time without feeling remorse about lying in bed curled up with a raunchy romantic novel and a large bowl of Ice Cream
And yes, I dey read “ashewo” novel. To you that turn your fat flat nose down on romantic erotic novels….who cares if they had, have, will have sex or made love? Na why I wan read am bifor. I’m going to forget their soppy love scene soon enough _ they get tiring after a while plus I have got bills to pay but then, who says we can’t go hot under our skirts once in a while eh? Hehehe…so where was I? Ahhh! Writer’s Block.
So I flame up this myth, introduce it to my subconscious one time too many and it automatically shuts down all forms of writing process. It also neutralizes guilt at wasting precious time on some other person’s writing rather than creating perhaps an award-winning article or story….God knows I need to win something soon but then again…..maybe this “Writer’s Block” is responsible. We all need a reason not to do what we ought to do.

Seriously though, there are times when a writer truly does not know enough on topics, doesn’t know where to start or how to end or continue an interesting story. Research most times helps or simply read some more! Get looking, keep asking opinions, keep looking…you never know when your next Einstein moment is going to be. Keep writing, second-guess yourself once in a while, praise yourself often too. Writing should not be hard work but it is. It should be rewarding enough to buy a house but sadly it is such a slow process one is often tempted to rip off Chimamanda’s cover pages and just put yours. The truth is you are no writer if you don’t write. Or perhaps a new title is urgently needed?
Seasonal Writer
A seasonal writer (n)… person who writes seasonally.

But from me to you, next time you feel like you have hit that imaginary brick wall, write on something else – not your usual genre. You’d be surprise what you’d come up with. It may not be perfect or nearly even good or totally the opposite of what you want to write. You could decide to write your thoughts as you think, write a hypothetical letter to that hypocritical cow person you want dead – don’t just save it in case you have to go to the police station to make a real statement…Ha!…don’t do that but I guess you know what I’m talking about…just write – anything.

Find something that really floats your boat or rides your keke; travel to Osun State and go see a real deity and not just those ones they terrify us with in Yoruba movies or you could check out Mubi in Adamawa State! I heard that’s a fertile ground for award-winning journalism….although I am quite confused as to how the orator for #WhatDoesBHWant has his location as UAE ……..just an observation. Perhaps he is _ was in Mubi but forgot to inform us or he Skype’s with a ‘local’ staff…..either ways, what ‘they’ want is not what we want. If they could just stop abducting, forcefully marrying and raping our girls and women, perhaps we could understand what they want. It is disrespectful to keep abusing the hole place you came out from. For now, nothing matters except the safety of our women and the innocent lives lost in this senseless power tussle.
How was that for a breakout from “Writer’s Block” eh?
And most importantly what do you think this piece is? Satire? Or just another proof that I am actually experiencing an exotic writer’s condition known as “Writer’s Block” and just won’t accept it exists? I particularly like the latter option….it confirms the peculiarity of this irreversible condition. I should experience it more often. *Winks*

About Uneň Ameji
A writer and humor-lover, Uneñ has written articles and books focusing on contemporary issues and old school romance. You can download her latest book – Love on the 25th on the Okadabooks App available in PlayStore Global-wide :-D. She tweets as @UnenAmeji on twitter. Check her out on African Stories.

Life of a Barack Boy. Episode 5


Episode 5: Bail Ya Goat
Read all Episodes of Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito Here

There are many advantages of living in the barracks; or let me say, growing up in the barracks. One was the fact that it was a perfect representation of what the country is. That is you have
people from every part of the nation in one single community. So it was easy to come across diverse culture, language, religion, and belief system. It was one of the best things that happened to us as children. Even though we never traveled to many parts of the country, we knew how someone from any part of country would act or react to things. It afforded us the luxury of understanding the very commonly used words of most languages. And if you easily ‘slide into the matter’, you already know what I meant when I say ‘commonly used words’. Unfortunately, this episode is not about words, or most used slangs in the barracks. It’s about the relationships and fun we had together as not just children, but barrack shildren.
Leggo, our closest neighbor who was the Chief Medical Officer of the division had (and still has, I think) two wives. We sometimes called him Doctor. The two women did not live under the same roof, or the same city for that matter, but all his children lived in the same house with him. So, ‘many’ wasn’t a word that was used to say the number of children that lived in that three
bedroom duplex of our neighbor’s house. We used ‘plenty’ and sometimes ‘numerous’, though the only difference between them and us was that they were all siblings, and we were a mixture
of siblings, cousins, nephews, and house helps. And because we shared a very large compound we had many things in common.
We shared two hectares of cassava and maize farm; we shared security; we shared a plot of green lawn turned soccer pitch, plus a few other luxuries. And responsibilities.
Because of what we got from farm and vegetable gardens, we didn’t visit the market everyday just to prepare a pot of soup. Remember we had a poultry. But with all these came a huge challenge: securing the farm.
We were on holidays at the time and we took on the
task of building bamboo fence around the farm. As soon as Doctor saw our little initiative, he made it a law. A rule. So with the help of a few friends and tenants, we drove the stakes deeper,
and raised the fence higher. What we intended to do as fun became work as soon as Doctor got involved. All our effort though didn’t stop the goats and other ruminants from breaking in and destroying
the cassava and maize stems. So we thought of what to do: we set traps, and built cells to keep any goat and sheep caught within our farm.
So once again we had some fun to wake up to, apart from the morning and evening sessions of playing football. We took shifts at the ‘gate house’- the entrance of the farm; we patrolled
round to check for any break-in of some sort. Even our dogs, Whiskey and Motty had some chasing to do. Trust me, we caught many goats. Many-many goats. That made Doctor feel good
that we were busy doing something worthwhile during the holiday. Soon, our cells were full, which resulted in another problem. We hadn’t really thought of what to do with the goats except to
starve them to death. But after a little over a week, we had over fifty goats, and of course an awesome idea.
People started coming to our house to beg for the release of their goats. After our parents were gone to work, we would host and receive a number of pleas from the barrack
men and women alike. “Come back when Doctor is back from work,” was always our respond. It was just fun seeing people come to our balcony every morning and afternoon. Some begged, some cursed, some cried, and some just stood there looking straight into our eyes like they wanted to hypnotize us. Of course, we were afraid that some of those women were witches, but my cousin Mudiaga and one of our neighbor’s son, Ochuko gave the rest of us the boldness to continue with our mission.
To create more fun we asked some of them to write guarantor’s letter promising that their goats would never stray to this part of the barrack again. It was a whole load of fun reading requests
and appeals from these wonderful women. We would laugh over grammatical blunders, and ask them to come back later in the evening when Doctor was back. Although many of them swore
to come back, but we never saw anyone come around when our neighbor’s father was home. We were sure their husbands warned them not to.
I can’t remember exactly, but I think it was Mudiaga, my cousin who brought up the idea that we released the goats on bail. Four days down the line, we had made a little fortune for ourselves,
our parents not knowing exactly the details of what we did. As long as we told them that we were simply trying to guard our precious farm, they didn’t push for any major detail.
To spice the fun, we would take on ‘flogging sessions’, where we spend time beating the goats to the point of coma. Ochuko was particular with breaking the horns, or one of the legs of
the animals. It was a brutally enjoyable experience for us. Sometimes, we would deliberately release one of the goats and let it run around the compound, then we would chase it as a form
game – The Arena? Anyone?.
In the space of three weeks our notoriety had spread around the barrack, and we were beginning to have enemies and fans alike. After the fourth week, the little group had become a
club where membership was extended to other ‘quarters’ boys and privileged fine barrack babes. Our effort at chasing and stopping the goats from entering into our farm was hugely appreciated by Doctor, who one day bought everyone of us catapults. But even the few goats that remained in the barracks had stopped coming anywhere close to a fifty metre radius of our compound. Soon splinter groups came out, and before we knew it there were no more goats in the barrack again.
But the game had to continue, the rave dared not cease. At this point, we resulted to go hunting for goats wherever the goats hid and brought them into our compound. We marked their bodies with paint so that should the goats find their way to the hands of the opposition, we would have a just cause to embark on an invasion of our opponent’s territory. It all got to the stage where we organized goat-fighting competitions within the barrack. There
were the feather weight, middle weight, and heavy weight categories; which resulted in us giving the goats names like Idiamin, Babangida, Maradona, Hulk Hogan, Undertaker, etc.
But it all came crashing down when schools started resuming from the long holidays, and our siblings and friends who attended federal schools started returning one after the other. I remember vividly the face of our special goat, Otegi, which got to the semi-finals of the competition… That was the first and only time I ever saw a goat smile.
It was a holiday well spent but one which did not make it to the pages of our English Language notebooks. Hehehe

Ojay Aito blogs weekly at and he is @1ojay on twitter.

Other Posts on African Stories
Love on the 25th by Uneñ Ameji
Beautiful Stranger by Tomi Adesina
All Fun and Games by Tomi Adesina
Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito

Life of a Barack Boy. Episode 4

Episode 4: Kingsley, My Dear Cousin

Read all Episodes of Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito Here

My cousin, Kingsley was the most stubborn of us all. Back in the days when we were young, we always searched for trouble everywhere, and when we didn’t find any, we created one. Our bodies itched when we didn’t have anything doing. I was 4 when I understood what it meant to be addicted to drugs….yes I am that smart. Not that we took i-gbo or ‘coke’ (actually we always had a lot of the other good coke, guess it was why we had a lot of energy), but we just couldn’t help staying away from trouble, and Kingsley was our ring leader – he was the dare-devil and we were always trying to keep up.
And no, we were not terrible kids, we just had a little too much adrenaline in our blood streams, plus we were boys. We had our off days and today in focus was one: we were washed, dressed, fed and reminded of our behaviors. Can’t remember if we were on one of our mid-term breaks or long holidays but I’m sure it wasn’t a weekend because my parents went to work and we all waited eagerly for 4pm to ‘knack’ so NTA would come on the TV. (Not that we could tell the time, by gazing at the clock, but we just instinctively knew when the time was up for SuperTed or Vultron: the defender of the universe… Where are those cartoon characters now? Dem for don old die).
Anyway, I was beginning to get restless just lying down on the bed (that was how my aunties punished us: compulsive afternoon siesta. Yeah, there were very few 6-letter words I could spell at the age of 4 too. SIESTA was one), and I knew Kingsley would be super-restless. Not long before, he stood up from the bed grumbling that he wanted to go to the toilet (that was our most handy excuse because no one wanted us to wet the bed.) I waited a little while before I took cue.
Ten minutes later, we were tumbling around the tiny space left in the sitting room, our aunties were busy at the backyard…In hushed voice, Kingsley called my attention to something around the dining area. I was curious, as excitement seeped into my veins.
“What is it?” I asked. He pointed to the refrigerator (bet you had those small steel rimmed thermocool fridges too).
“What?” I asked again. He pointed at the fridge, this time his tiny finger almost touching the steel rim. Then he said, “Lick the edge, it’s very sweet. Someone must have put sugar here.”
I looked at him in the face, I knew he was lying but I couldn’t allow the idea of something sweet pass me by.
I guess he saw the contemplation in my face because he said “I’m going to lick it all o if you don’t want.”
I stopped him, then stretched out my tongue to taste the stupid sweet fridge… Of course you know nah, the thing shocked me, shocked my soul, shocked my spirit join. But the good thing was that I didn’t shout. Actually, I screamed, but it was like the shock muted my voice. My cousin laughed non-stop. I felt like killing him, actually I did in my mind, but had to wait to do in the physical. A tear rolled down my face, and I fought the rest away. I went back to bed and didn’t need to beg sleep to come.
I was woken up at about a quarter to 7pm for dinner (my aunties would have preferred that I slept through till when they were through with their never ending chores, but they knew I wouldn’t sleep at night if I wasn’t awake now, and therefore cause more wahala for everyone). So after dinner, we were washed and changed into our PJs and allowed to run around the house and wait for our parents to come home.
It was then I got the idea. Wow… I stared at our KDK standing fan (if you guys didn’t have one then, it only means you must have been very very poor o. Anyway…). I moved towards it, pressed the #3 button, and allowed the breeze to blow me. I even sang into the fan (it gives a different feel to your voice, did you ever try it?). When I was done with my plan I went in search of Kingsley.
“What is it?” He asked. I pointed to the fan.
“What?” He asked again. Then I started singing into the fan. He immediately started singing into the fan as well, taking up the challenge. Everything is always a challenge and competition for Kingsley. So here I came it my idea:
“I just stopped the fan with my finger, and you can’t do it. Never!” I threw the challenge at him, hoping he wouldn’t see the lousiness at my try at retaliation. Like I was fooled with the idea of sugar, so was he corrupted and blindfolded with the idea of challenge.
“You can never stop the fan, but I did!” I pushed again, hoping that he wouldn’t say I do it in his presence. But my dear cousin didn’t even ask, before I could tease more, he simply stuck his index finger through the gauze….
The scream from my dear cousin broke through the air. The scream was so loud that it frightened me at the instant. I started shouting in resonance. I think my scream was even louder than his. There was blood on our PJs and everywhere. Our aunties were by our side almost at the instance, demanding what, and how, who, because they didn’t who wasn’t hurt. Kingsley was pointing his blooding finger at me trying to tell them I was the one who caused it (caused what?). I pointed back at him screaming louder to cover whatever he was trying to say. Tears was in both of our eyes, but mine was tears of joy…
I went late to bed that night long after my cousin was tucked into bed with his bloody finger banded in plaster. I even dreamed that I had a ride in a sport car with Pierce Brosnan, while my cousin was left behind because of his bad finger (James Bond wouldn’t have a liability with him, except if the liability was a lady). When I woke early the next day, I could see the tear stain on the right side of my cousin’s face (he must have cried in his dream as well). I felt quite sorry.
Kingsley didn’t have to write a single thing for the next one week; in fact, I was asked to wash his socks. After 3 days, I was wishing I was the one who had a cut on the finger. The attention was getting too much. I feigned stomach pain so that at least I got some ‘pele’ and ‘doh’, but all I got was Flagil, ‘oh mine’.
“Your sugar is becoming too much,” my mum said.
“Stella, I beg no forget to bring more Flagil come from work for these children, dem need am, especially Osereme.
My hands were on my head (in my mind).
My own don meet me.

Ojay Aito blogs weekly at and he is @1ojay on twitter.

Other Posts on African Stories
Love on the 25th by Uneñ Ameji
Beautiful Stranger by Tomi Adesina
All Fun and Games by Tomi Adesina
Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito

My Experience With Weed by Mr Man

If you are like me, then you probably have not read this hilarious piece I am about to share….and yes, I know it is not Humor Wednesdays but all the same, a good laugh does not know what day of the week it is.


I had just moved out of my parents house and was sharing a room with my “friend”. I had no idea he smoked weed, despite his suspicious movements and signature weed scent(abi na odour?) barely two weeks after moving in with him, my worst fears were confirmed as he started bringing home his weed smoking buddies and they would occassionally roll a wrap and smoke it right there in the room or mix the weed with beans or spagehtti.
Being a very curious person i always wondered what made them happy after smoking, so i decided to find out for myself(wrong move)

It was a very hot day in february, a saturday i think it was, my friend was out as usual. I searched everywhere for his stash but couldn’t find it so i decided to go and get mine. I arrived the weed joint all sweaty and nervous, half expecting to get muged but nobody seemed to be aware of my presence there, they were all on different planets all expect one i concluded that he must be the seller so i approached him and the following conversation ensued:
Me: how far?
Weed seller: i dey
Me: i wan buy weed
Weed seller: how many parcel?
Me: parcel ke? Iro oo, na just small i need
Weed seller: laughs really hard. bolo leleyi sha(meaning this guy is a dunce oo)
Apparently, a parcel of weed is that small wrap, i didn’t know that. I thought it was something very large.
I gave him 1000naira and he gave me a tiny wrap of weed with a white paper, i was suprised when he gave me 950 as change. I couldn’t beleive weed was that cheap.

On my way home, i decided not to smoke it but mix it with beans because i thought that it will be better that way(another wrong move). Long story short, i cooked beans and added the whole weed, ate it and called my friend, i told him ogbeni i just ate weed oo and nothing happened to me this one that you people will eat and be feeling funky, i don chop am oo. My friend was like ehen you be strong man oo
I decided to take a quick nap before doing laundry, i woke up about 20 minutes later on the floor i was banging my head on the floor, and i couldn’t stop, my heart beat was so audible and fast, everything was extra bright and extra loud. After a few minutes of head banging, i was able to get up from the floor,
I felt as if i had just gained access to a part of my mind that I never knew existed previously, it was scary and cool at the same time. I could feel the blood flowing in my veins(you have to experience it to believe it. Though I strongly advise against it) i felt so uncomfortable in the room, it felt like i was in an oven suddenly a voice in my head wisphered ogbeni bo aso e joor (off your clothes) i obeyed. The voice came again oya sa re(now run) that was when i realised that the weed had taken effect so i decided to take a shower to see if it will calm me down, but the water felt so hot on my skin so hot i ran out of the bathroom.

I called my friend to see if he could help me make sense of what was going on but he laughed at me, he asked me the quantity of weed i took and i told him i used a whole parcel, he said guyyyyy you don eff up if you no sleep in the next 30mins, you go mad oo go chemist make you go explain yourself.
By this time things had escalated, i had a severe itch at the back of my head that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard i scratched and i was convinced that the beating in my chest was an evil spirit that could only be killed with a punch. I ran to my neighbour champion and told him champion e jo e fun mi lese laya(champion pls punch me in the chest) ti e ba gbami lese laya mo ma ku oo(if you don’t punch me i will die oo) he hissed and walked out having had enough of such nonsense from the boys in the boys quatters.

The voice in my head came again iwo na o de gba ara e lese laya abi o ti fe ku ni(why don’t you punch yourself in the chest or do you want to die?) i punched and punched but there was no difference.
The house was getting hotter, the voice in my head was getting louder, the itch in my head was getting worse, and the evil spirit in my chest was getting louder. Then came the voice again oya ma sare lo(start running) so i started running but on getting outside in the sun, i felt so cold i was shivering but that didn’t stop me from running(i would have given husain bolt a run for his money on that day).
On getting to the chemist, i realised i was bare footed, i told him i had a severe headache i needed something to make me sleep immediately, he gave me the drug and i chewed it right there in his presence, next i asked him to give me a drug for evil spirit, that was when he realised something was wrong with me and chased me out.
I got back home and tried to sleep but my heart beat wouldnt let me, so i ran back out this time around to a nurse in the area, first thing she asked was kilode o wo bata ni? (why don’t you have your shoes on? I told her jackie chan ti gba bata lowo mi (jackie chan collected my shoes) i was finally able to explain my situation to her and she took me in, tied something around my elbow and injected me directly in the vein. I passed out immediately only to wake around 1 or 2am in the middle of the night with the worst kind of hunger I have ever felt in my life. I ate a whole loaf of butter field bread in one sitting without butter or tea.

I came home to a hero’s welcome, my friend told me e be like say your head no carry am but e go better make you try am once more so you go dey use to it. The following day while the house was empty, I packed my Ghana must go and like the prodigal son in the bible I went back home to my parents. It’s been a few years since that experience but the lesson I learnt is an unforgettable one. My curiosity hasn’t gotten me in trouble again and my circle of friends have since changed.

My Oga Down Below


100% Nigerian Humor from Home of Humor
If we cant make you Laugh….Then you have very strong village People

Today will be the last of Uncle Stephen’s humor stories on AfricanLoveStories.Com. Kindly vote him for the Best Humor Blog for the NBA! Here is the link Nigerian Blog Awards.Nigerian Blog Awards Click and Vote for The Home of Humor Stories in the category of the Best Humor Blog! Voila, you are done. Do support!

I have actually not written in a while not of my own making,
But NYSC is over and I’ve been trekking the streets of Lagos,
Submitting my C.V everywhere possible,
I can bet that even that office where you work has a copy of my CV.
Please, if you come across it,
Kindly inform your Oga at the Top to please
Help your man out.
Thanks and God bless

Anyways as usual my story goes way back
(Nollywood classic olden days flute begins to play)
To a time in the university, when I was popularly known as MC Stevo, and ma phone always used to ring with calls to anchor shows.

I had gotten a phone call from an upcoming crew in school,to anchor their clothing line Launch party.
The party was making headlines in the entire school,Cos the concept and mouth wen the boys put inside the thing plenty gaan.
Very Few red carpet parties where holding in school, and this was going to be the first of its kind,
With the Glitz and glamour of paparazzi and models.

They even went through a hellova time selecting the red carpet anchors.
Me sef, wen go anchor the main event, dem book hotel room for me
And even gave me their custom T-shirts, that I would have to wear that day.

Mobilization and publicity, na die.
I got phone calls from female friends in neighboring schools,
Who told me they had been invited and would be around for the party.
Omo mein, all in all this was going to be a blast. I had to be on my best.

No time the D-Day reached.
Rain started falling
Rain fall fall fall fall ooooooooooooooooooooo
We begin fear.
Party wen suppose start by 6pm
Delay till about 8pm
But I like young people.
That rain was on its own
The general mindset was one of:
If thunder like make e dey strike inside the party venue
E go dey fire us as we dey rock.
We must dey there…..
As they still trooped in, in their numbers

If you see crowd eh! Jisox!!!
My Horny school boys can’t fit to dull
When dem don hear say convoy of babes dey come from all the neighboring schools
And with 1:7 Girl Boy ratio in my school,
This was that sea of babes,
A lot of boys had been praying would flow through the school
So they could cast their Setting P nets to catch their kote, Titus, Croker or whatever kind of fishes the Sea goddess would bless them with today.

The babes,
Both the Internal and External ones….them no gree at all
The designers of all this their millimini gowns eh! Only god go judge them
Ahn ahn!
Den they wee now wear all these tops with bra’s wen go come package the bobby like can coke
Men go dey look mineral dem no fit drink…. #sad.

But all in all you get the general idea,
The Red carpet started in earnest and all of a sudden,
It Seemed everybody just returned from jand, see accent everywhere.
(nodding)Dat one sef dey.

In an hour it was my turn to coordinate things
I was introduced to the crowd,
Amidst cheers and girls tearing their shirt and throwing undies at me
And begging me to sign in hinterland places on their bodies (“stevo sign here sign here please”)
Yeah!! I know bad belle! Na lie! Mtchewwww
But trust me people shout sha

I got on stage,
Looked at the crowd,
Choi! See babes everywhere….. I mean there were boys there too but c’mon na
Na the babes a straight nigga like me go see na

I gave the best Performance of my Life that Night
Cracked all the joke for this life
One babe fell down from her seat and was clutching her stomach
And for my mind am like “correct!!!! Market dey move”.
The event was going well
But you know boys na
Anything wen dey happen for party no be their concern
Only one section concerns them


I kept the atmosphere alive, buoyed and prepped the girls
For the defining moment of the party
Even taunted them, that they could not handle the boys here….
All the taunting suppose be play o
Until I see babes they shift seats go side dey clear space for dance dance dance

Sharperly Dance Dance dance started
The babes were on fire
Very minimal forming, and since they greatly outnumbered the boys and were from another school.
I guess they travelled down to just give it hot to my school boys
See rocking everywhere….

I have a system, a principle of sort.
Whenever I anchor an event like this and it goes very well
I usually just sit at a corner and watch the dance dance happen
Whilst sipping something, since it is a personal rule for me not to drink on the job
But omo today, that principle na for my pocket
These girls carry me
“ehen! Mc make I rock u small” na wetin u go hear
And before u know, person wen say e wan rock me “small”
don hook me for wall, dey grind me like fresh pepper….
And like say na wrestling, before 5mins another one wearing a far shorter gown
Than whoever I was dancing with before go shake the other one hand, enter the grinding ring.

E no easy o
When you’re under such enormous amount of rocking induced duress,
It’s difficult to tell your Oga down below not to react
It all of a sudden starts pointing upwards
And if the source is not removed quickly everyone would see it happen.

One babe wan rock my soul sotay
Reaction bin wan start
I had to be thinking of our savior.
How he was flooged, how he was crucified, how he cried, how he took my sins away
Even dey hum sober Christian music for my head if it will allow my oga to remain at his normal place.
And seriously it works. Tested and trusted. You can try it.

At a point I could not take it anymore I wrested myself off the hands of the current grinding machine and made towards the door slowly,
Blending in with the crowd and hoping no one would catch me again
I needed to rest mein, I was exhausted and needed a drink
I don almost reach the door
When I heard “steve are you leaving, we’ve not danced na”
I wanted to turn and rudely reject the dance offer
When I turned back and saw

The girl set abeg
Mapoyakakak talalala mfrinto ( yes! E reach to speak in tongues)
Her eyes were just out of this world
Very pretty young lady like this, clad in of course a microMINI gown
Nice curves, and just forget mein the girl make sense
How me, wen bin wan vex before begin smile, I still cant fathom
But I managed to explain to her that I wanted to go for a drink
And that she should join me.
She put her hands inside my own and as we dey waka e dey like I win world cup

To cut Long story short
I was flirting with the girl
And she was flirting back
We did not return inside the party hall
Dis one wen I dey for outside here pass whatever I could get in there.

1-2 buckle my shoe d babe don dey my Lap
We just dey talk funny, dey laugh, drink don dey enta eye….

Normally, I don’t pick up girls too from a show based on principle
But this particular night, I was like omo mein let me just go with the flow and
Before I know, we don dey waka go the room wen doz organizer boys book for me
And as I put my hand inside my pocket to bring out the keys
I couldn’t find it
I cursed out Loud because I knew what had happened

During all the grinding one of the organizer boys asked for my key under the guise that
He wanted to safeguard something in my room
And me wen dem don collect all ma sense with rocking
I just free the sharp guy key
Now he was in there, blocking dis my paroles
Guess tonight was not my night.

So na so we dey o,
Entered inside for some small rocking
Came out went to one corner of the venue and sat there
Sha sha I stole some kisses
And since we could not proceed any further we exchanged phone no’s
In the hope of continuing in a much more conducive atmosphere **winks**

I had the feeling all that happened that night could be blamed on the alcohol
But with the way we continued flowing over the phone, and with a promise that
She would visit the next weekend….
I sha was hopeful…..

Friday The next week: The Deal Day
She arrived safely in the evening….
We went to eismann fries to hang out with my guys
Amidst them teasing me about how this night na die
“Stevo the man for the job”
“Stevo the great fisherman”
“Stevo, Mr. all night Long”
“Stevo the Oga at the top” (lol they did not say that obviously…..)
Give or take in a few hours…
We were prepared to go home
I noticed she did not drink much that night sha…..
But anyway na way…….

We got home….


Na me first enter go baff
Cleanse maself in preparation for the ceremony ahead
Came out looking all fresh and clean
By then too she had unloaded all those their bags them dey kari come….
Entered the bathroom too to have her bath
Me just lie down for bed as a gentleman turn face the other side
Make e no dey like I dey rush sha…….lol!

I Had entered the bathroom after Stephen had got out
I peeped through a hole in the bathroom door
There he was on the bed
All smiles, and spread out in anticipation of a great night ahead
I still had not decided if to fufill his dreams or just outrightly dull him.
I took my time to undress
Showered for what seemed ages until I knew he would start getting uneasy
With the amount of drinks and dancing tonight
It would be expected that fatigue would get to him with all this my time wasting in the bathroom
But once more I looked through the door
And he was eyes were wide opened like those lions in NATGEOWILD wating for their prey.
At a point he could not bear it anymore and he called “honey are u okay, in there”
I just reeled in laughter….kai! boys eh!
I must suffer him a little……

Which kain dirty baff dis girl dey baff sef
She dey wash trailer?
Make she do come outside na……..
Hope she’s sha not dead
“Honey are u okay in there” I asked
And her lovely voice responded “all correct sir”

Lets first start from the fragrance dat filled the air
Gave my room this kind of dreamy feel, like I was in a fantasy
And then on to the nightie
No need to describe am my people, just know that It was intended to cause maximum brain injury
It took me a lot to comport myself aswear
Cause at a point my mouth was open

U need to See how he was looking at me with open mouth
I had achieved my intentions
Tempt the hell out of this boy
Stars, where beginning to build up in his eyes, different fantasies of the would-be tonight
I had my own plans for him too though
So I quietly went to the bed
Laid down beside him and faced him encouraging him to say
The exact words I knew he would say

“wow your beautiful” I said to her
And she smiled with those her beautiful eyes dimming a little
In acknowledgment of the compliment
“thanks” she said, “but did you really think so before now?”
Ehen! Babes, dey can like dis thing eh! See question
I had to pick my words carefully,
I had to combine the right amount of water and bimbo detergent to ensure the washing was successful
“of course, I have always known so, but you see it seems like the perfect thing to say this moment.
looking you in your sparkling and enchanting eyes and having you this close to me,Just makes me want to say it over and over again all night long”

Shebi u sef feel that line na…….. (hi five joor, she dey craze drycleaner like me? She never see washing)

“Wait so this is the pefect time? Or is it just because I’m lying on your bed in a nightie?”
if you see the big spit wen I swallow, am sure she noticed, dis girl wan make life hard sha.. WTF mehn!
“ I actually think it’s the perfect time cos dat day at the show my tots wia not so organized and stuff
But now I’m beholding you again, I just had to voice it out, that’s what make this time a perfect time(I say make I switch topic sharperly) and about the nightie
I really really like it, it’s really cute on you”

Wen I think say e don finish she cleared her throat and was like
“oh! So it’s the nightie you like not me eh?”
Now this was just outrightly annoying
I go begin write jamb again after I don get admission?
But all week over the phone before coming here
Na she dey ginger my spirit since, so why this kind of dulling all of a sudden
Anyways this is the drill I just gast follow through

“c’mon now honey, the only reason I even remotely like the nightie is because you are wearing it
Am sure it would be far less admirable if someone else not as beautiful as you are did wear it, I like you a lot
, plenty, much,numerously,uncountably, you’ve been at the center of my thoughts all week and every single day has been counting down to
This day when I’ll eventually see you. I’m happy you are here, so I can get to know you better and understand why I’m falling
For you the way I am.”

(abeg try clap for me, abeg! I suppose open church see preaching…. If that one no work
Then obviously my village people are at work again, or what do u think…abi?)

She went silent and just kept looking at me for about 5mins and I was wondering what she was thinking
The washing work abi e no work…………

Stephen, very funny boy
I could see the rising frustration on his face with each of my questions
Am sure if not for God he would have maybe broken my head…..LOL
But he was just a gentleman, responding to every single one of my questions
In that sweet way that makes a girl feel like the entire 9planets revolve around her…
I saw the way his eyes looked longingly at my nightie
I had chosen this one out especially…cos of its tantalizing effect
After his response to my nightie question, with that long poetic line
I kept a straight face and just kept looking straight at him….
He struggled to maintain a straight face, but I could obviously see the
“abeg wetin dis girl dey think sef” thought showing occasionally on his face….
This was a true test of patience……
I wanted to see how far he could go.
After about 5mins I smiled…..

5mins later she smiled
And said “that was just so sweet”
I took the cue to mean that was a go ahead…..
I moved a little closer and continued saying plenty other sweet sweet things
Abi na sweet things she want…… she must get diabetes this night…
She kept up with the smile…..
And I kept inching closer aiming for that kiss….**winks**

Small small
D distance between the lips don dey reduce
Den I angled my face a little ready to dive into the kiss….
And just as my lips landed on her face
she moved back a little and said
“steve your rushing things, slow down a little,like you said, tonight lets get to know each other better at least before anything happens”

S M. H

“I know most boys are football fans, so what is your favourite club?”

No way!
No no no
This was a deliberate attempt….this girl know wetin she dey do….
She wan frustrate my life…… but Tufia! Dat aint happening
Long story short I was a nice guy
No rushing for this life
My middle name na patience
I kept answering her….. “ I like Chelsea and u?” (although no be with my mind I ansa dat question oh..LOL)

Favourite Club?
Wia did I think of that sef…..but dat was enough to test his patience
D boy don tire for me by now
But he kept answering questions……
Although with obvious frustration sha
I decided to end his suffering temporarily sha!
I held his face and gave him a kiss at the point he was answering what his best food was…..

Well I don’t really have a best food my best food is………….
Omo see kiss!! Chileke! I wanted to pause and wonder for a minute why the kiss was comin now
But mein no time to check time
I mean, I can wonder very very well when we are done with every….
The girl lips soft abeg
Slowly I carry my hand go back, while opening one of my eyes to see if she go wan move back
But she held me tighter……choi! See Jackpot oh!
My hand began to move places
Begin dey grab, dey touch things, dey kiss things, dey turn up and down
One minute I dey up
Next one I dey down
I just dey everywhere….east, west, north and especially south…….
Nightie don dey short more more……..
With no single resistance from her own end……
Nightie off, my boxers in an unknown location in the room, given the force I flung It away with
When the thing don dey wan turn obstruction to my happiness…lol
So in a few minutes….. na adam and eve na him dey d room
Everything was heading towards **coughs**
When all of a sudden……

The real….
GHEN GHEN GHEN GHEN (ACTION time must dey my story na!!! I dey mad?)

BAD BOY, Stephen
he was in full control of the situation and I was merely at his mercy enjoying every bit of it
turning me left and right
probing and prying delicate areas of my body
letting throes of passionate sounds escape my mouth.

it Was all goin well till I was losing my breath a little
I tried to adjust myself a little but still…..
I could not breathe properly…..
I think I knew what was happening……
After almost months of it not surfacing?
I was having another asthma attack

She started coughing, and wheezing,
The devil in me was like abi dis girl don start again
C’mon na not at this point wen my oga don ready to log in into the nscdc website
But on closer examination of her face….
I saw the genuine and intense struggle to take in air……
Her breathing became faster and more labored
Panic struck me as I quickly realized this was an asthma attack…

Whatever medical knowledge I had in me was coming to light
Cos if this girl die here…….
Newspaper will read

“student kills student with nothing but love making”

Nobody go hear say, we neva even start anything……
So my priority here was to ensure she stayed alive
I quickly opened all my windows and doors to ensure there was enough air in the room
And I proceeded to search her bag for an inhaler…..
But as I was doin that, the labored look on her face told me the obvious
Which was that she did not have one as she had not expected it to happen

KAI I DON DIE… dis is how I went to prison finally…..
Because of rubbish
My oga below dropped instantly
Panic seized me, she was now seriously gasping for air
And in all my adamic nature, I was confused as to what to do next
When I remembered that the caretaker of our lodge…. ONYEOMA…

He Was a go to person…. He lived in- house…at the lowest floor while I lived at the topmost floor
Of the lodge…… he just had this funny way of having whatever you needed at hand.
Boys in d lodge used to tease him dat if someone wanted a human head….onyeoma must have
And so I was just convinced he would have an inhaler….
So with my ordinary nyash because I was too confused to even find my boxers
And my lodgemates seein me naked as against a dying girl…. My choice was obvious
I dashed out, flying steps in a bid to get to onyeoma’s room before the girl died….

I don comot say make I piss!….. na y i no dey like to drink star…piss piss every minute….
Even for this midnight….. I know knw d fool wen still dey play dis kain loud music
Abi if I go there now go talk….dem go say ONYEOMA wahala too much…..
As I comot for my door…. I hear person dey run come from upstairs…..
All dis foolish boys for dis lodge only God know wia dem dey run dey go…..
I waka go near the step say make I see who be that….wen I see one naked mad man dey run wan come catch me….
I tear race……… dey run go my room
As I dey run, the mad man dey call my name…..dey talk say onyeoma onyeoma no fear na me…..
Na you who? No time to ask, na make I reach my room carry my cutlass, scatter him head be my own
As I enter my room…… wan go where my cutlass dey…d mad man dive me come hold ma hand…..
Heiiiiiiii!!!! I shout

As I got close to the step I saw onyeoma and he took off
Wouldn’t blame him, much , with darkness and a young naked man running towards you,
We would all have the same general reflex response
I chased him immediately towards his room
Flew at him, grabbed his hands and managed to muffle the scream he was about to let out….plus whoever was playing the loud music also helped my case!
I calmed him down….. and managed to explain my predicament to him……
He could not stop Laughing… after he realized what had happened….
So you wan use dis ting he said pointing towards my down below kee d girl abi…..
“onyeoma abeg we go laugh later….just give me inhaler abeg or follow me go upstairs”

Just like I thought…..
He had an inhaler
What he was keeping one for I still don’t know
But long and short of it,
We both went upstairs, the babe was almost immobile when we got there
Or so she looked because I was panic stricken…..
Onyeoma took over from there…..
His eyes widened as he looked at her body, he turned and looked at me too as if to say “kai so na wetin u wan enjoy b4 devil punish u be dis? “
He started Applying the inhaler, and generally helping her recover
He was so good at it….
I just sat at one corner……. Watching the proceedings and praying that she recovered

After some minutes,
She slept off….
Onyeoma left me with the inhaler, some good laughs, and a promise not to tell anyone….
Even while she was sleeping
My mind no dey at rest at all
Once in a while during the night because I could not sleep
I go still go check her body, see whether she dey breathe….
Morning no gree come…
We come get longer night shorter day……

When she woke up,
The next morning
She was looking better and as if nothing happened
But omo mein….once beaten hundred times shy….
I managed to convince her to go home and see a doctor
Since she said it had not happened in a while……….
The girl no wan go sha
Dey form she wanna spend time with me………
The devil is a liar…abi una know……

She left……
I laid on my bed….
Thinking of what would have been
Thinking of how I would have been an ex-convict
Thinking of how na so all my engineering pursuit for end…..
Thanking God for saving my life
For his goodness and mercies
Promising myself never to bring a girl home again ( eh! I know say na wash….but relax na part of the thinking process)
Close shave
And while I was thinking of all this things
An sms entered my phone, it was from her
It read

“Stephen, am really sorry, about how things went yesterday night, your a really cool guy and I like you a lot,
Your funny and wonderful to be with…its just unfortunate things went the way they went last night….. I promise
Next weekend I’ll come over and I’ll make it up to you….cross my heart…..TCCIC xoXO”

see me see wahala o
We dey talk d one wen happen d babe dey cross heart say she go do another one…..
This my village people sef eh! They were hell bent on ruining me…..
I kept looking at the phone
And all I could think of was “the devil is a liar” not again mein not again…..
Baby better uncross that your heart.
Cos if I try it again, the newspaper headline would be something like

“Student kills fellow student with his Oga Down Below”


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Uncle Stephen

The Flight

And it is here!
The First of online Humor Series from AfricanLoveStories.Com, It is @itsUnclestephen!
But not so fast, He needs your vote to win the Nigerian Blog Award of the year for the Best Humor Blog. I have voted, you should too. Here is the link Click and Vote for The Home of Humor Stories in the category of the Best Humor Blog! Voila, you are done. Do support!
Have a good laugh ….and thank me later.


The problem with doing something for the first time is that….
Most people, instead of asking questions and getting directions, prefer to form….
Sometimes, it’s a far better approach, Cos when u ask, niggas end up making u look like an idiot!
For instance,
U meet someone on the road and you are Like “bros, pls which way is so so and so close,”
And he’s like “wen u go front u take the first left….. Not the right o, the first left..u will see one first bank there, abi u know first bank?”
In my mind am Like,No I don’t know first bank… I know 3rd bank…. Nonsense!
I experienced something similar, when I eventually got a Job, and dey decided to take me abroad for training…..
Wooohooooooo!!!!!!! Right?
I pray….
Me wen neva enter plane before…..
My first time come b international flight…
How I wan use do?
Worse still was that, I knew NADA about wat happens in an airport.
I pass by it regularly,but wetin wan kari me go der.. Wen d Young shall grow motors still dey?
N2500 to owerri……
N4000 to abuja…
To make it even “worster” if derz sumfin like dat!
D people preparing me for the Journey just assumed dat as a bad guy! I sabi every..
I could not start falling their hand by asking ‘em some foolish questions like
“Bros! How e dey be if d plane wan move…”
The day drew closer with dread and excitement for me….
I mean who no go happy to go abroad?
My parents prayed for me eh!
Rubbed me enuff olive oil, whilst Casting,binding and tearing any evil wen wan stop their pikin from reachin away…
Thank God I don’t barb gorimakpa!
D effect plus d olive oil fit make dem turn me back for airport for “overshining of head”.
The protocol guys took me to the airport, showed me where to check in pointed out to me where I was going to be searched before being allowed to go through, as most asian countries had a death penalty for anyone caught with drugs in their country…
Death ke?
Omo abeg I asked if paracetamol was part of drugs, cos I had a sachet stuffed in my suit pocket!
Yes dats right!!!!! I wore a suit (??? ) ….with jeans sha!
Na wa for u oh!
I gast look like “no be today we don dey travel out na?”
**in american accent**
I been to the states,
Last week I was in the local government, nigga please we do dis shii errytime.
Omo, U need see ma face when dem dey search my bags.
I fear cos I mean, my face no good to show for crime fighters na…
I was hugely relieved when they asked for the next person and I locked ma box!
Walked straight to check-in like say no be today!
Got ma tickets like say no be today!
Walked to the place where the immigration people were like say no be today too..
One woman, looking at me, and deeming me learned in airport activities, even stopped me to ask me for directions somewhere and I directed her like say no be today cos one of the protocol guys had mentioned the place to me earlier….
As I scaled all the immigration brouhaha
And all their “fine boy,na so u wan leave us for this country go? Find us something na, give us some dollars.”
Dollars ke? I just dey go ni
I arrived at the waiting Lounge for departure,
I must note here that Nigerians can form…
My Gad!!!!
Especially babes…
D kind of things dey wear if dem wan travel, for doz of us who it was our first time, u’ll almost think mid way in the air, the pilot will announce “Legoooooo its time for parrie!!!!!!, and all d plane seats will fold backwards giving us space to rock d life outta ourselves”
Guess dat only happens on soul plane abi?
From d miniest of gowns to the make-up omo mehn! At a point even wif all ma suiting up, I felt like they would be angry and either throw me off the plane or make me start serving tea…
A voice came over the p.a and made an announcement…
All of a sudden everyone was getting on their feet and lining up…
Na me 1 carry last?
Nna I lined up too….
It was actually time to board d plane…
See eh!
Even when I was walking to the plane
If person tell u say na ma first time u no go gree…
But as I approached d plane? I saw the air hostesses looking at a particular paper each passenger had and directing them somewhere!
It was when I was almost close I realised they would check ur ticket and motion u in the direction your seat would be.
I quickly retrieved mine.
when the Oyibo hostess looked at my ticket and said “wghygvuyreaspotginthvnedt dis way mr stephen, enjoy ur flight” indicated d direction I was to go to, only God saved me from saying eh!?
Na there I for use fall ma hand cos behind me wia two cuties who must have landed str8 from heaven for d flight
I got to my seat.
They usually keep an earphone with which u can watch movies on d screen, right in front of you, together with a blanket, just incase you get too cold during the journey! Sorry joor flight! Na local be Journey!
I arranged maself.
I came onboard d flight with Just a school bag,containing my Lappy! I stowed it on top of me and settled in my seat!
That’s when I noticed,
Dat all around me, der wasn’t a single black person on the flight…
I mean white people everywhere
I saw some black people pass but none of them settled in any seat around me..
Like say dem say make all d black people go back!
I come dey wonder whether I neva sitdon d wrong place
Now d question na who I go ask?
How I go use ask?
“Sorry, ehm excuse am I supposed to be seating here?”
The devil with his little fork and the angel in all his whiteness appeared on ma shoulder like dey usually do In times like dis
“Stevoooooo” d devil said “na so dem go take comot u for dis plane? Afta all man for ur area don hear say u dey travel? My guy jejeje dey go back”
“Stephen, my son, dis seat thou seatest on is thine divine inheritance, from time immemorial, it has been ordained unto thee,be not quick to let it go!”. The angel replied!
To make matters worse,
One oyibo guy came near ma seat and was lookin at it like guy stand up? But den continued on…..
Being a christian,plus all d olive oil dem rub me for house, I decided the seat was my divine inheritance (??? )
I noticed then, dat airplanes had seat belts
I mean, I see it in the movies but real life seat belt,
Everyone was fixing theirs in place
U had to put it round u instead of across u like in cars
And put it inside somewhere and drag it…
Omo! I have never watched people do something more carefully like dat in my life!
Then I picked it up
Crossed it around me waist
And as I was about to put it in I heard
“Mumu no be like dat”
Azzin Oyibo wen dey speak pidgin?
But of course it wasn’t
Twas d stupid devil voice in my head!
“Thou art on the right path” replied the angel!
I wondered why he spoke in KJV na wa….
By now most of the people sitting around me had noticed, I was just holding the seat belt and waiting, omo no time! I took a leap of faith lifted something up and put the other end in… And I heard it click!
**Praiiseeeeeeeee Ye Jesus!
The lord hath redeemed me from all shame
He casteth my enemies away!
He hath uplifted me
He fallest not mine hands in the midst of my enemies!**
I thank God we don’t talk dis way aswear!
Cos niggas would be like
“I solomon son of david son of nathan son of joachim sayest unto thee… Thou art truly a fair maiden”
just to say baby ur fine….bleeeeh!
Back to the matter…
Don’t open and close anythin, attempt to touch ur toes or worse still open dat cavity!
Everyone was turning the screen in front of them on.
I did the same…
It was touch screen with a remote control affixed to the underside of the screen
I mean who doesn’t know how to operate a touch screen right?
The answer to that question dat day was me!
I turned It on,
It showed various options information,communication,entertainment hence d name ICE…
God knows I pressed the big E on the screen indicating entertainment..
Nothing happened…
I looked at my seat partner a white young woman, probably french or so, as she pressed the same E? And it showed her various options!
I pressed it again…NO SHOW
I began to think maybe no be really my seat be dis oh!
Pressed it again! … The E seemed to get bigger and shine brighter like “my guy, bone I no dey show anything”
The lady beside me seeing me in distress,
Stretched her hand and pressed dat same E, d same way I was pressing it, with the same finger I was using and it changed….
I turned, smiled at her dat kain smile when u know say u don fall ur hand.. Am sure I was lookin like a FOOL and said “thanks”
To which she replied “OUI monsieur”
In my mind am like ur father oui! Nonsense (??? ) but I kept smiling nevertheless
Abi the thing don change,
Now na to press am again select the movie I want!
I prayed d Lord’s prayer as I slowly stretched my finger to Life of PI whose trailer was on the screen!
No time to attempt scrolling the list of movies on the side…
To press never work na scrollin wan work?
As I outstretched my finger, it seemed everyone in the plane stopped breathing…
I closed my eyes as my hands impacted the screen…
After like 5seconds or eternity I can’t remember now, I opened my eyes and the movie had started playin!

?(?^?)? (?^?)/ ?(???)? ?(???)?. ?(???)? (~’,’)~
*in Gino’s voice* No be God?
I woke up from my sleep!
Someone had tapped me,
But no fear,
I was still on the plane…
I personally,made sure it was no dream! Because I for too vex for who wake me.
if na wen winsh dey pursue person
Nobody go come wake u!
But anytime u dey dream better ting
Awon werey go come wake person!
My french friend had woken me up
They were about serving food,
I remembered seeing a paper that contained what they would be serving inflight!
You could have any drinks you wanted, except champagne which you had to pay for.
I looked at the menu
I was lost!
My brothers n sisters,
Nothing der was close to what we usually had @home… No eba and soup,even d rice der had some funny names beside it! I began doubting if it was another food spelt the same way or it was d same rice I knew!
On looking closely,I realised it was just appetiser first! Looked like tea or something!
The air hostess kept rollin the platform containing the food, stopping seat by seat, inquiring what they wanted.
As they came closer to my seat, my heart began beating faster,and I zoned out.
I was brought back to reality by a voice,
Sonorous voice I must say,
If dem beg u sometin wit dis kind voice u can’t say No
I opened my eyes! They wia beside me
“Tea or Coffee sir?” She inquired
Don’t know why but my first response was coffee!
Thinking it would end there, the next question almost floored me,
“Black or white?”
I hear them ask dis questions in movies but I’ve never bothered to find out which was which
“Black” I responded
“Yes” d devil shouted gleefully!
Oya put d black one for cup na! Make I drink sleep she asked!
“Cream or No cream!”
In my Imagination, I saw her opening a bottle of pears baby Lotion or even revlon lotion and pouring inside, so I abruptly blurted out
No Cream biko!
“Sugar or No sugar!”
Easy right?
I still replied No sugar!
They gave me d most bitter cup of liquid I had ever tasted! Even more bitter than the local agbo one of my neighbours oropo used to give me during service at abeokuta.
Na me wan carry last? I took a gulp
And did aaaaaah! Like when u drink cold coke!
The lady beside me asked “nice right?”
“Wonderful” I responded with that same smile from before….
After a time,
They started serving food!
After lookin through the menu and seeing only gibberish! I was wondering what I would do.
Excitement say I dey travel abroad no even gree me chop food for house before I move!
I Looked at that menu again!
Rice with God knows what sauce
Rassma rasmasa an indian special
Fried shit spiced with mess…dey could as well have put that (??? ) cos I no undastand wetin dem dey write there….
They came to my table,
The french woman picked hjedsuwtoppphdeyhnj with vegetables,
And d waitress smiled at her and said “excellent choice”.
The food is usually sealed in a foil
But around it u still have some other stuffs like a cup, some chocolates etc.
D waitress then turned to me and asked “what will you be having sir?”
Na me no go make excellent choice?
Abeg gimme d same thing
Their father!!!!!!
She smiled at me.
I think they are taught to do dat now am tinking of it
Am sure if I had said “baba e!!!” in yoruba, Which means ur father,she would have also replied excellent choice!
My french neighbour decided to start with the chocolates….
Me wen hunger wan fire my life
No time I opened the food to reveal what was inside!
Trust me it was rice… D problem was rice and what?
Inside the foil, I saw a whole lotta vegetables,grassy lookin things and one green looking kinda sauce with raw tomato, and a whole lotta things I had never seen before….
Me wen dey sabi select food.
I dint even know wia to start from mehn!
I quietly and slowly poured and drank Juice trying to form deep interest in d movie I was watching, all in a bid to allow ma french friend start the eating make I see as them dey do am!
She finished,
And started eating hers
I could see obvious satisfaction on her face…
So me sef bone na!
Packed rice and a lot more grass and tomato and shii.
As it entered my mouth and I attempted chewing,
Instantly, my Imaginations endowed me with horns…
I could literally feel them protruding from the top of my head as I chewed all the grass….
At this point am sure if someone had attempted to insult me and call me a goat, if I tried responding all that would come out from my mouth would be
“Mmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” like a goat!
But I don start na, no be so
I shoved more grass,tomato and rice into my mouth, using the Juice to better the taste, whilst smiling like say I dey chop my favorite ewa-agoyin
The madam beside me, seeing my smile, assumed I was enjoying the meal as she asked “wonderful right?”
I was so pained. Eh! Na u put me for dis wahala indirectly dey ask me wonderful.
I dint know wen I responded “nna gi der”
“Eh?” She said
“Excellent” I replied like those phony air hostesses
I thought the worst was over,
Until few minutes to landing as the P.A announced, I heard a familiar rumbling in my stomach!
My system obviously tailored over the years to understand our normal food was saying “Bros hafa na? wetin be dis wen u give us now, we no want again, abeg take am back”
The rumbling grew louder
I silently prayed no one else was hearing it.
The plane Landed, and I Hurried out although careful to break my fast steps with some slow ones make the thing no fall out
Sharperly Located the airport toilet,
And mehn! I made it Rain!
Varying sounds were emanating from me, simultaneously raising the temperature of the men’s room.
After some 10 mins or so
I breathed the sweet air of freedom (shatap! D toilet wasn’t smelling (??? ) )
Y’all know this feeling right?
I had an interconnecting flight to catch in 25 mins or so…
I tidied myself up
Stood up to flush when I encountered another problem…
Where to press to flush!
This Oyibo people
Make normal toilet dem no go gree.
I was left staring at a toilet I dint know where to touch to flush.
(A picture of this toilet is at the end of this post!)
It had an obvious lever to the right dat seemed like dat was it. But I tried it and it did not work.
I just stood there dumbfounded!
There were voiced in d mens room no doubt waiting to see the face of this person who had made so much noise in the toilet.
Not flushing seemed wrong.
Not in this beautiful city.
I stood there wondering what to do
I had resigned to fate and shame and as I closed the Lid, I heard dat familiar flushing sound!
**in testifying ibo woman’s voice**
BredLen join me and thank d rod! because he has savedu me from shame!
T’onu chineke! Eeeeeeee
I walked out to see all the faces looking at me like “oh bros na u?”
In my heart I was like ” he who hath not shitteth,messeth nor produced such sounds from thine hind place before,should cast the first stone”
15mins later,
I checked into my next 6hours flight now like a pro
Settled into my seat.
Using that toilet had drained me so I just wanted to rest….
I closed my eyes to sleep
And I was awoken with a familiar voice
Another air hostess again
Asking me, sir what will you be having
“Abcdefgh with ijklmno and Juice
Pqrstu with vwxyz and Juice”

In My mind am like You people again?
Once beaten twice shy
Aint having the abc or pqr whatever
No be my career una go kill
Cos if I chop anything again
Release inside this plane
Headline news straight
“Nigerian Humour writer,crashes plane with toxic fumes from his behind”
I looked at her,
“Nne biko give me water eh! Just water
Not black nor white, without cream and without sugar
God bless you!”

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Uncle Stephen

The Mystic Toilet