Yemisi, my landlord’s daughter

Yemisi, my landlord’s daughter…….. Ezeala Kingsley Chukwuebuka (kingsceze)

Saturdays have got many things in common, but Saturday 13th May, 2017 distinguished itself among equals. I moved in, to the new apartment I rented in a reserved area of Mile 12, Lagos. If any soothsayer had told me I would rent such an apartment, I wouldn’t have believed. It’s a ‘face-me, I face-you’ apartment with over thirty-two rooms. Its environs are what I can’t describe. A drop of rain fall, rain-boot would be the only option to get to the other side of Mile 12 where there’ll be bike or Napep.  If one must go about the daily routine early, one has to be awake by 4:00am so as to be the first on the queue. Else, you’ll be tempted to leave the house without bath. Any further delay would be a story for another day!

I have never enjoyed anything about this compound but only for my landlord’s daughter, Yemisi who turned 22, same day I moved into the compound. She has been the reason why I found my stay here a little rewarding. I’ve always prayed for the day both of us would travel to Jerusalem. It’s true I’ve admired her from the very first time I set my eyes on her (about a year and three months ago, when I visited a friend) but haven’t got the morale to let her know about my feelings for her, even now I’ve moved to the compound. But, I believe the lucky day would soon smile at me………

YESTERDAY morning, I woke up when the florescent light at the backyard was beginning to win its battle with the darkness. The rustic sound of my landlord’s I-pass-my-neighbour generator was the only sound I could hear from a distance. It’s an obvious reason that Baba Ijebu paid him huge the previous day! This is the only way I have not been happy over someone else’s progress. Whenever he wins any game, it prevents his children especially his daughters from coming to my room to charge their gadgets. (And only a few of the guys would understand how painful this is.) It was actually my alarm clock that woke me from my snoring at 4:35am. I hurried to say my usual morning devotion and joined the queue. It was always two different queues; the toilet and the bathroom respectively. This morning….as at that moment, I belonged to the former. Luckily, I was number seven on the queue. Our thirty two rooms could boast of two blocks, a toilet and a bathroom.

This is no issue of big boy or girl. You must queue. As I opened my door and made for the queue, rowdiness mounted high at the backyard as my fellow inmates who had joined the queue before me continuously rained insults on the person in the rest room.

‘E nor go better for you’, a voice insulted.

‘How many hours you wan spend there?’ another shouted.

‘See as the shit de smell, abi you chop dead rat ni?’ the third voice giggled.

Within me, I thought all the insults belonged to one Mister, lai that in the compound who’s a drunk. I believed he could be the only one to produce such that could change the sweet fragrance of the early morning’s scent. When the door was opened, I saw my crush coming out of the rest room….and immediately headed to the bathroom. She tied a towel that barely covered her laps. One could see the shape of her butt. Seeing the structures could lure any son of Adam into eating the forbidden fruit, the second time.

‘So Yemisi, na you de spoil the air since? Na wah o’ I murmured to myself. So many thoughts crashed through my mind, I began to imagine how she would taste if I kissed her. After a few more minutes, I watched her walk passed me shaking her buttock vigorously in a way I got erect. And my eyes followed her butt until she disappeared from my sight.

“You see, no matter the kind of odour emanating from this temple, in it must I worship someday.” I concluded.

“Kings, e be like say you nor wan enter?” a voice called my attention. Then I quickly carried my bucket of water and entered the toilet…..then entered the bathroom whose door had an opening….and covered the little opening with my Chelsea towel. I had a quick bath. One could imagine if I only poured water on my body. “Since today is Thursday, I’ll leave the house later than usual .The road is usually free because of the accustomed Environmnetal in Lagos. I will wait and go together with Yemisi. I should tell her about my feelings this morning,” I thought as I dressed in my corporate attire. I ensured I tucked the white long sleeve in the black plain trouser. I didn’t also forget to wear an Explore smart perfume. The way I carved my beards gave it a perfect match with my afro. I looked myself in the mirror that hung on the wall at the verandah and nodded positively. As I was still admiring the handwork of my creator, a soft voice said to me.

“Hi Uncle Kings, what’s the name of this your perfume again?”

I turned to her and smiled, “Explore!” and frowned immediately. I looked so despondent that she needed to ask if I was okay. I forced a smile in pretense I was fine, but I felt like changing the whole things.

I hate it when a prospecting babe refers to me as Uncle. It really gets me thinking…..

“Yes. That’s it! It’s the same perfume my older brother bought for me but mine finished days ago.” She smiled, trying to explain when no one has asked for explanation.

“Me, I nor kuku like make e finish patapata before I go replace am,” I added in pigin.

“Arh, that’s good! That’s what I would be doing oo. I would always notify him on time…when it’s about to finish” she was still smiling. This time, she showed she’s got dimples.

“Him?” I enquired. “Your boyfriend” I couldn’t control my jealousy.

“Arh-ah, Uncle” She tapped me on the body. “I am talking about my older brother.”

“Oh, I see. That’ll be great!” I affirmed.

“Please, lemme just use small” she said and stretched her hand.

“Arh! No problem. You can have it. I bought another one yesterday” I said, handing the perfume to her.

“You mean, eem… dash me this one?

“Yes, you can keep it.”

“Thank you” she said and made for the gate.

“…but, can’t we go together?” I appealed.

“why not,” she said in defence.

I quickly twisted my door handler and dragged the keys out and ran towards the gate, regardless of my corporate attire. This was in a quest to cultivate on the farmland! “Time to worship in this adorable temple is near” I murmured as I rubbed my lips with my tongue.



I stole a glance at my wrist watch. 8:27hr. In the BRT, we sat on the second to last row from the Busman’s side. She was busy pressing her Samsung Galaxy J7 prime that she barely noticed me. I severally bent my face to see what got her attention that much. Whenever she notices I tried looking into her phone, she pressed the side button to lock the screen. After a few minutes, she drew the pattern to unlock the phone. And she quickly replied whatsapp and facebook messages. I wondered why she should be so addicted to social media instead of focusing on her Education. I took a quick look at her and tapped her on the laps.


She lends me a look and smiled in a way I should do more of that. I envied her smile and tried to force out a few words from my mouth but all to no avail.

I concentrated on the Television screen in the BRT showing Mark Angel comedy ‘My Daddy’ and smiled over little Emmanuella’s excellence.

“Kings, you called me?” her eyes straight to mine. I swallowed hard and nodded like an Agama-lizard.

“What’s your Jamb score again?” I tried not to disappoint the MAN in me.

“Two thirty three!”

“That’s cool.”

“Let me see how jamb will not give me admission this year”, she added, concentrated more with the chats on her phone.

I smiled, “I hope so”

‘Next stop…….Anthony,’ the BRT beeped.

I stood from the seat and she stared into my eyes in a way she wanted to alight same stop with me.

“See you when I get back from work,” I assured her.

Jumping outta BRT, I was somewhat fulfilled that my mission in the compound of ‘face me, I face you’ was about to be accomplished.


At work. 11:06hr. Nothing about the day’s activity interests me. I was so eager to go home and meet Yemisi but when I remembered she would still be at the mom’s shop, I allowed the whispering idea to disappear.

14:49hr. My mobile phone rang. I placed my right hand in my trouser front pocket, brought the phone. It was an unknown number. I quickly pressed the receiver’s button expecting to hear Yemisi’s voice.

“Hello?” I voiced out.

“Hello!” the caller said and the line went dead.

I waited for about three minutes. When it seemed the caller won’t call again, I dialed the number on my phone.

“Hello, hellooo…..helloooo,” I shouted. As if that would fix what seemed to be a network problem.

“But wait o, that voice wasn’t Yemisi’s. I swallowed hard… disappointment.

I was not happy with myself. I should have collected her number in the morning. That’s the problem. Loss of morale to express myself!

Nature finally put a smile on my face when the sun set. Work was over for the day. I didn’t shut down the computer properly because I thought that would delay me from having a good long time with Yemisi. It dawned on me at Anthony/Town planning stop when I got down from Keke, that I didn’t thumb-print before leaving office.

“Oh my goodness!” how on planet earth will they know I stayed till close of day? Should I go back and sign out for the day? Won’t that have anything to do with my salary? I asked myself many questions I left unanswered. I stood for a few minutes, looking at the road back to the office and nodded helplessly. “shebi na just to slash my salary? That one nor be problem. Yemisi dey important now pass!” I concluded and climbed the Anthony-bridge.

Standing at the BRT terminal point, it looked like all the buses were on strike as commuters queued up with no hope of getting home on time.  Many impatient ones jumped onto damfo.

“Later bro, a friend I had met at the bus stop told me as the damfo zoomed off.

Thirty minutes gone. No sign of BRT. Forty minutes, fifty minutes and a bus parked. The busman gave a sign that it’s only for those enroute Ikorodu. Having known that, I gave deaf ears to that since the bus will definitely pass mile 12. I struggled with the Ikorodu passengers to find my way to the bus but as fate decided, the bus filled before my turn.  I stood back. Brought out my phone and dialed the same number that called me earlier. ‘the number you’re trying to call is currently switched off, please try again later. Thank you’ I wore an ugly look. And the countenance became exactly like those Juventus fans at Cardiff during the Champions league finals.

One thing was on my mind, how to run my package with Yemisi.

An hour gone. I tried to re-sell the ticket but all my efforts yielded no fruit. People began throwing their tickets away to enter Danfo bus. I couldn’t join the trend. I had used the last money on me to purchase the ticket. Getting home depends solely on whenever ‘all-route-BRT’ or that of Mile 12 comes.

Fortune or what seemed to be luck smiled at me after about an hour plus three minutes stand on the BRT queue, bus halted right in front of me. It was 18:45hr.

One thing I like about Primero BRT, it beats hold ups. And the second is the AC. These are reasons many people prefer it to others. But the former sufficed… least for today! Within a twinkling of an eye, we got to under bridge mile 12 and I immediately recovered the smile I lost. When I got home, i tidied up the room…especially my bed. I peeped through the window severally to know if I would see Yemisi but all to no avail.

“Joseph!” I called our neighbour’s son.

“Uncle, good evening” the lil boy greeted.

“Have you seen our landlord today?” I queried.

“No. I saw him with big-big bag yesterday. I think he traveled.” Joe explained. I know that already. If only Joe could, he would have known the reason behind the question.

“And Yemisi? Have you not seen her this evening?” I hit the nail on the head.

“I don’t think she’s back” Joe added.

“It’s alright. Thank you. I wanted to give them money for NEPA bill. Shebi this NEPA people nor come today?” I changed the topic.

“No Uncle”

Just like a fawning dog, I shuffled my feet back to my room and opened the door and window, should Yemisi comes back. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The appetite for food was gone on exile. I struggled with the nature as my eyes became drowsy… I couldn’t let the nature defeat me as I occasionally poured water on my face but I eventually succumbed.

To be continued………


Some people’s crazy way of getting something

You see, people have advanced a lot. I love Nigerians. They are just too good at anything, anything at all they chose to do. Just this morning, as I was rushing jey-jey to work, “Excuse me!” came a voice of a woman when I got to keke park at Federal in mile 12.

“Me?” Three of us in the Keke enquired.

“You!” She pointed, indicating I was the one.

I got down from the keke and approached her. The keke man who was only waiting for one passenger to come gave me the look any Juventus fan could have given to C. Ronaldo. He’s now in need of two more passengers!

“Good morning Ma’am” appeared my innocent voice. She looked at me and smiled. “You see my brother, in this life, people are just ‘two’ I was calling you from afar but you seem not to answer. You look exactly like my brother” she concluded.

“Wait, I resemble your brother? Okay. Where’ you from? Anyways, people dey resemble shaa” I also concluded.

“Him dey stay for Egbeda” she replied almost immediately.

“No. I meant, your tribe or even hometown,” I added.

“Yoruba” she answered.

“I nor be Yoruba, but truly, people de resemble shaa” I concluded to hide the disappointment.

“Uncle, abeg fine’ me small money, make I take buy lunch for this pikin” she implored, directing my attention to the little boy with her. And the boy (who should be 6 or thereabout) in his school uniform was carrying a basket that contains food flask and water bottle. He gave me the look that I should not mind her….. I wondered if it was an empty flask….but that was not my business.

“Arh, Aunty, I’m sorry. I don’t have enough.” I had told her before jumping onto the next available keke at the park.

Some people are just over talented shaa……..

Re-posted…. Living like strangers in our own land

I was romancing my blanket in sorrow yester night, kissing my pillow in tears.

It seems the whole world had just turned around. Sleep eluded me….. Even when I tried to force my eyes to close,

it became wider instead. I could not help but gazed longingly at the broken ceiling in my room.  For a while, I lay

staring at the ceiling as if it was the cause of my sleepless night. When I realized it wasn’t, I quickly got out of bed,

and made for the rest room to pee. As I walked, my body became too nervous and had the urge to drink water. I

struggled with my thoughts…then I had to sip some water. The former was forgone and the latter sufficed. If I

really wasn’t pressed, I knew not. And why I changed my mission (the former), I also knew not.


You see, Igbos’ in centre of excellence are the right people to give the correct definition of slave. Even the dictionary

has got not 100% definition of the word ‘slave’. If you doubt it, go ask Google!

It’s quite unfair that we live in our own land like strangers. Or maybe we’ve become one. Who knows! But many Igbos are

to blame for any sort of exploitation encountered in this centre of excellence. They have refused to look back to where they

come from…. It may interest you to believe that they’ve all invested in this land leaving their own land untouched. If they had

done something down there, things would not have been the same.


The incident of 27th August, 2015 at Ketu-Ikosi rd bus stop didn’t push me to scribble this out. But some of the victims did.

I shed tears when I discerned that Nigerian graduates were among the victims. These are people who have selflessly served this

great country accordingly and who holds this nation at high esteem. Their crime is what I am yet to find out. Believe you me; it is

not their intention that they would graduate and still hustle at the bus stop….they had wandered about the streets with files. And

instead of idling at home, they’d decided to make a living via hustling.

For God sake, justice should be tampered with mercy a-times! I also shed tears when I remember what transpired between a

nursing mother and one of the ‘strong men’ at the scene.  She knelt helplessly, with her baby on her back. Instead of looking at

the poor baby and helped, he rather took all the goods away. (Maybe he was good at his job!) What if the parents had no kobo,

the baby would have faced lots unmentioned…… This is really a callous maltreatment and lack of human feeling.

Nigeria, pleasewhich way???????


What baffles me is that, this incident took effect while the masses wallow in penury and hardship. And besides, there was

no prior notice and the traders had been paying some amount of money on weekly basis….for what seems to guarantee and make

them eligible to carry out their business activities without any fear of the unknown at the ‘said’ location.

Dear beloved, we must also understand that such is life. Life itself has many sorts of surprises under its sleeves. The only way forward

is to dust off and forge ahead.


This scribbling is dedicated to all whose goods were confiscated!


It’s a triple celebration…….

You see? The truth is, no English Dictionary has the perfect definition of celebration without the mention of this special day. June 6th. Even the almighty google has a different definition in contrary to what celebration really means. Now, you might be wondering, what the hell am talking about! You’ve got not to worry. I’d give you the definition of ‘celebration!’ Now tell me, is it a coincidence or magic that my Mom and two brothers have their birthday today? What could have been a better definition of celebration without mentioning June 6th?

Sending wishes across facebook is not a prerequisite for letting them know much they mean to me. But, it’s something I should do. I wouldn’t know why I was bereft of words when I picked my phone to type a few words of birthday wishes. But I had to do it anyhow!
I cannot celebrate celebration enough. You see, the womb through which I come to life is born on this day. Without this day, there wouldn’t have been ME! So I would celebrate this day very specially. She is my first Love. For over twenty-eight years, she has shown me unmerited love, and has promised me endless love. My ever-young Mum, my bae for life. Sweetest mum, in my next generations to come, you would still be my mum.
Dance and be happy for it’s your day, mum.
Today is also his day. Ezeala Ernest, my immediate younger brother. He’s cute. No wonder he was admired by all and sundry when we were growing up. If you’re a beautiful lady and think you’ve got real beauty, come contest with him in a beauty pageant. Indeed, great people are born on this day. I can’t talk about men because no son of Adam can contest with him on that.
Have you seen him Dance? The way he moves his body can win a lot of goodies for Africa…or even for the world. He’s talented and gifted.
How about his skills in football pitch? I can’t talk more on this. Just ask Engr Ezeudeozor Chibuike, Kingstardom Chukwuebuka Henry, Nonso Al Uzor, Chinecherem Cisse, Luminous Uzor, Amaechi Chinedu, Aneke Chigozie, Idiga Chinonso, Chigozie Amaechi, Ezeudeozor Micheal, Kingsley Stanley King, Tochi Darlingtin Madu and anybody that grew up with us. They can attest to how he benched me severally in the field of play. Kingstardom Chukwuebuka Henry always like to chose him over me and he (Ernest) would always dribble and humiliate me. I remember that fateful evening when he dribbled craze comot for my body at community primary school field. And even passers-by clapped in appraisal to honour him. He was the cynosure of all eyes. You can also ask Awuzie Vic Ikenna how they won the trophy. Jekwu is also available to be asked who scored the winning goal that won them the trophy.

He’s not just a brother to me. He’s a friend, a best friend! A best friend that is better than the best of friends! There’s absolutely nothing I could have done on this planet earth without him.
Enjoy your day bro. Lemme nor come and be talking too much!
And Ezeala Solo-p. He’s also my blood, my youngest brother. This one? He can fix and repair your phone in one touch. You see, electricians stopped eating from us when we discover the kind of gift he’s got. Bring any kind of gadgets to him, with any fault. He’ll only handle it and everything would be put in place. He didn’t learn it from anybody, not even in school. He doesn’t like to hear, ‘this or that isn’t working fine.’ He would handle it, scrutinize it meticulously and when he’s done, he would smile in a way that everything’s fine. And indeed, every damn thing’s fine. That’s God’ gift! And for his bravery? It’s something else. Let me not go any further……

Yes, the three of you ain’t just adding an ordinary year to your respective ages; you are all adding more wisdom, fear of God, strength, God’s favour and grace. May God Almighty continue to show you all Love and may he also grant all your heart desires.
Happy birthday Mum (Mama Ebuka 2)
Happy birthday Chioke (slow and steady)
Happy birthday Chibueze (solo-p)

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Celebrating my sister on her special day

It’s weird and comforting to know that there is no other woman on this planet, not even my mother, who has had a closer view of my life than my sister. Growing up together, we were like bread and butter. We agree and disagree together. We got each other’s back! I remember those days when Mum and Dad would not be home and warned us not to go downstairs to play with other street children. I remember, any of us who disobeys and gets caught would face lots unmentioned! I remember those days!!

You see, my love for football had almost put me into troubles, if not for my sister. I would return from school and fling my school uniform where only God knows and for my school bag, where it could reach I’d never mind, and hurried downstairs to join my colleagues in the most-played-game (monkey post or four man post) of those days. It was my sister who would kindly pick those scattered items and wash my school uniform without my notice.  Most times, in those days, when it’s time to leave for school the following morning, I would be surprise my school uniform would be neat, and my school bag well kept.

Several times was I oblivious of how she would finish the chores apportioned for me. I remember that fateful day, no one was able to score me. The game got more interesting and hotter when the other three, teamed up to score me, but the more they tried, the easier it became for me to commit them into conceding more goals. Victorious songs mounted high in the compound. Some who just got home from work, undoubtedly, were supposed to relax their nerves to ease the stress of the day, came out to the balcony to see what the reason for the roar was. Cheers were echoed from all and sundry to give me the deserved accolade….. ‘buukaa..2! buuuukaaa2!!, buuuukka2!!!, buka2.’

It’s said that everyday is for the thief but one day is for the owner. There’s no how I could have dodged the sight of my parents. On seeing them, I quickly made to find my way upstairs. Now, it dawned on me that I haven’t done the chores I was supposed to do. ‘I’m finished today,’ I said to myself. I was still in the bathroom, trying to wash my feet when my Dad’s voice shook the whole building. ‘Ebuka! Ebee ka ono? I began to fidget in shyness. As I approached the sitting room, the sight of the long cane got me shedding tears. “You’ll hear wii today ma oburu na imesibeghi ihe m si gi mee tupu mu na nna gi agawa oru n’ututu”, Mum’s voice appeared from the bedroom. I collapsed from the shock. Mum has always been my savior whenever Dad’s angry but that day was so unusual. That was when I ever saw my ears without the aid of a mirror! “Oya, lie down here. And remove your knicker and boxer”, Dad’s word was always final. I hesitated but eventually obeyed. All at once, my sister’s voice appeared, ‘Dad, he has finished everything before going to play football.’ The statement hung the cane on air and Mom asked, Is it true? I quickly stole a glance from my sister who nodded in agreement…… Yes Mom, it’s true! “And you couldn’t talk? Just thank Chinwe today. She’s your savior today.” I smiled and got up immediately. Na so my lovely sister saved me that day o!!!

You see, dear sister, I don’t even know how to wish you a happy birthday. I’ve lost the appropriate words to use!


May the almighty God grant all your heart desires….Amen.

May you live long and prosper in Jesus name…Amen.

Happy birthday sweet sister!

Happy birthday my second love (after my mum)!!

Happy birthday Chinwe!!!

YES, thank God I’m finally here!

I’ve really longed to be here. I have made attempts overtime but got so many failed results. The truth to why I had failed was obvious to me; procrastination!

At my leisure, the ink in my pen cried and begged to unfold what it has got, but I’d paid lesser or no attention to it. Even when I did pay little attention, I found my scribble crumbling. The next would be the no-how-disappearance of the piece. Pity!

There’s one thing certain, I am still a toddler in the field of writing but writing is in me! I have never argued that. But one thing is sure, here’s a medium for expressing myself and sharing my feelings about the happening(s) around me. More so, I would also join my voice to that of the voiceless to ensure that they’re heard.

As an introvert, being here is one of the best ways to express myself. True, we’ve got numerous social networks where posts about our expressions are made. But…..

For those that may stumble into my posts here, teach me always, criticize my posts, and argue…..

I am eager to learn, which is why being here is paramount.

May God see me through……..


 That sunny afternoon, the lecture seemed longer than usual. The professor had covered double of double period. To him, he was trying to meet up so as to fly abroad the next day, but to the students, everything seemed undigested. That was supposed to be the last lecture for the day. No wonder he had all the time for himself, because no other lecturer would come in. “ka opuo” a voice echoed from the back of the lecture room. The professor gave a deaf ear to the raw word and continued. This time, with the sign to stay longer than already spent………. The students couldn’t hide the disappointment. The voice came in again, “ka opuo” and the lecture room was thrown in a state of rowdiness. “Silence, everyone!” the Prof barked. And calmness smiled immediately. He continued with his boring lecture….. As the lecture went on and on, too many faces began to look gloom. No one could tell him to stop. After a while, Simon, the departmental team leader glanced at his wrist watch and it was 15:09hr. “It’s twenty-one minutes to the football match between us and Edu Government 300 level,” he muttered to himself. That was not enough. “Excuse me Sir,” he stood and raised his hand. “No questions yet!” the Prof intoned. “Excuse me sir, excuse me sir, excuse me sir” majority of the students joined in the chorus. Their voices were louder than the Professor’s. “Class Rep, meet me in my office now and collect the assignment” His last statement brightened up the student’s faces. And they ran to the field in mass. The class Rep was to keep, but the second choice started the match as the former had not returned from the Professor’s office. The lineup was a better one though…… if the team were to be Nigeria’s super eagle team, no doubt, Nigeria would have been the world defending champion lately. Imsu Primary School field was filled with people. The female folks were more than the male counterparts in attendance. At least, that was to boost the morale of the players at the pitch. Stanley Otutu, the assistance team leader would always be at his best to impress our Mass Comm babes. Yes, we’ve got babes, we had them in full. If you doubt it, ask Dikeh Michael or Etafo Innocent! Hitherto, I still wonder why ‘Miss Campus’ didn’t come from Mass Comm or why the first two contestants were not Mass Comm students. But fate had that to answer. However, the two chicks qualified though. Maybe their stories need to be told………. Lynda was very beautiful, but not as beautiful as Cynthia. She brags round the campus as miss campus. One thing she didn’t know was that her rival, Miss Cynthia Brown was far better than her. Lynda was twenty-one, average, dark complexioned with an eye brow that always appear like that of the mermaid…..but Cynthia was twenty, fair, tall and willowy. Lynda was so full of herself that she thought it was possible she got any man she desired. To some extent, she was arrogant. She moved with a purpose that was far from feminine. She had striking features, and wears makeup to enhance them. And Cynthia was the opposite. She was natural, wears no makeup. She was gentle, a combination of beauty with brain. ******************************************************************* The football match kicked start at exactly 16:05hr, and lots of excitements followed till the last 90th minutes…….. The next day, I went to the school cafeteria to have my lunch. I gestured in, and sat in the company of my friends, Simon and Stephen. We placed order and were served from the delicacy. As we ate, lots of talk and laugh flowed….. Especially over our victory in the previous day’s football clash against 300 level Edu Government. “Bukas my man, I was impressed at your performance yesterday” Stephen commended. “Courtesy of Dede,” I transferred the praises to Simon who was my inspiration at the pitch. Those that have seen him play football will understand what I mean. “Every accolade won was deserved!” a feminine voice appeared from behind. The sort that sounded so dulcet like the heavenly Angels. That was exactly how students choir at St. Joseph Catholic Chaplaincy sang. Her high-heeled shoe had announced her arrival before her voice did. The shoe, no doubt, was to complement her corporate attire. And the outfit was just perfect! Her smiles could convince one that Nigeria has got no problem. She wore a perfume that smelled so nice. The trouser showed it was in a very good term with a pressing iron. The shirt was not noticed, but the black jacket that covered it also enjoyed the loving relationship with the pressing iron. The type of relationship Ogubuike Innocent could not keep in school. A simple hand bag was hung across her elbow. We turned to her and smiled. She dragged one plastic chair from the next round table that had only one occupant. “Please, may I join you guys?” “Sure, you can!” I replied. “Greetings to y’all” she greeted. “We greet y’ too” Stephen mimicked her. He has always been funny. We call him ‘the comedian’ “Kings, I’d never knew you’re this talented. You’re really blessed” She started a conversation. “I’m flattered!” “No need to be. It’s a matter of factly” “Proven?” She smiled, and her smile was innocent. “Yes. Proven!” “Spill!” “Necessary?” “Very” “That was what we were just telling him before you came,” Stephen cuts in. “Was it all about having three goals to my credit at the pitch yesterday? C’mon, that’s no big deal. The honour goes to the team!” I said. “But not as a defender, Bukas. You were the cynosure of all eyes yesterday,” Simon explained. “Anyways, that’s the Lord’s doing. I, myself didn’t know how I performed.” I watched Stephen gulped down the last drink from the bottle of coca cola. That was to take home the fried rice. And he immediately signaled Simon. They both stood and Stephen came a bit closer to me and whispered to my ears, “Let’s leave both of you. This could be an opportunity. Good luck!” “Haaaa! You’re bad. You know it?” I joked with a smile on my face. “Of course. No one is righteous. Or, are you?” he queried. This time, he burst out laughing. “I am holy” Simon said in laughter. Both of them stood immediately and made to leave. “Arh, am I the one chasing you guys? Don’t worry, I’d be on my way,” Cynthia said as she sipped from the fanta. “Oh no, far from it” Simon added. “Very far from it. We need to visit the café for football news” Stephen explained. “Oh, I see!” “Bukas, e go be. Babe, take care,” Simon said and both of them left. My eyes and Cynthia’s followed them until they disappeared from our sight. She shifted her chair closer to mine and stared carelessly at me. I returned the look. I reached for her hand and took it in mine. Her fingers were long, her nails short. Long dark hair hung down her back in a simple braid. She was attractive. I turned her hand over and stared at her palm. There were several calluses and a couple of scars. These were the hands of someone who worked for a living. “What happened to you?” I enquired. It was difficult for her to lie. Even when she tried, she hesitated. “It was an, an…, that was when I went to work to raise my school fees,” she answered in a bitter tone. “You pay your school fee yourself?” “Yes” “And your parents?” I was curious. She bent down, and raised her face in tears. “It’s a long story. Please can we talk about this some other time?” I placed my white hand kerchief on her face and dried the tears. She relaxed and expected more. I moved closer to her and allowed her head to rest on my laps. I began to caress her hair. “I’m sorry I made you remember this” “It’s okay” After a while, a flicker of heat burst to life inside me, making me wonder how she would taste if I kissed her. Not that I was going to. Now, I was far more interested in her abilities and strength than her charms as a woman. But a man could wonder…… She borrowed a romantic look from me. I knew she wanted me. She was wet, no doubt. But, there was nothing I could do. The more she looked helplessly at me, the more my junior kept smiling at her. It was then I knew that Juniors’ are senseless. I tried to control the junior but it wouldn’t listen to me. My Junior was just too stubborn. Her ‘Ada’ was more stubborn. Her nipple stood before she could stand from the seat. It had become tick, and gave me the look Lynda could envy. No son of Adam would ever resist the temptation. You see, this is natural, and no one can ever cheat nature. I grabbed her and kissed her. She responded quickly. Pity, the bottle of fanta fell from the table we sat and broke. “What the hell!” was all I could say. She rubbed her lips with her right hand and gave me the look a newly wedded bride could give to her groom in bed on the first night of their wedding. It was now I realized we were still at the cafeteria. “Oh blood of Mary!” I screamed. No sooner than later, the waitress came and cleared the table but not after picking the broken bottles. “I am sorry” I pleaded with a look more convincing. I was real. “I am sorry too,” she rubbed my stomach slowly. “Hey guys!” Miss Campus greeted as she entered the cafeteria with her friends. “Hi Lynda,” Cynthia responded. Lynda gave Cynthia the look a cow gives to a masquerade. She sat on the seat Stephen sat. Her friends crowded the next table. She wasn’t on her ‘miss campus’ attire. “Kingsley, I have been searching for you all over the campus” she said. Cynthia looked surprisingly at me. I understood the look perfectly. “Really? Why will you be searching for me?” “I just felt I should come and commend you for your performance yesterday. The way you humiliated my class team was something mystery.” “Oh, is that so? That was football, anything can happen” I growled with a tone of finality. My blackberry curve 3 started giving me the Ngozi chukwu song. “Please, excuse me,” my voice appeared. The two ladies nodded in acceptance. I struggled with my jean pockets to know the caller. When I succeeded, I pressed the ‘receiving button’ and hovered the phone to my ear. “Hello Steve………yes, we’re still here.” I hung the call. In the next minute, Stephen and Simon came in. “Alright. I should be with my friends now,” she added. She stood, exposing her fresh and succulent structure that reminded Steve of his standard foam at the lodge. Not only that he just recalled that, he also remembered the trouble the foam had caused us. The urge faded. And he swallowed fast. “Hope you guys had good time?” Simon chipped in. I borrowed a look from Cynthia, and both of us nodded in agreement.
To be continued……….