Sometime between late 2014 and late 2015, I had my reservations about marriage, a situation not helped by the increasing rates of divorce and marital infidelity. There were young men who shared my views, and together, flowing from our posts and our stance towards such a hallowed institution, we formed an imaginary group (in our heads) called Bachelors’ Anonymous. Continue reading
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have had any business in the banking hall that day; i did not operate any account with them, and I had no deposits to make on anyone’s behalf, but the phone dealers across the street had shamelessly failed to get their POS machine functioning properly, so I had to make a withdrawal at the nearest ATM available (yea, ATM, not “ATM machine”)…..but a number of the notes that popped out consisted of “oil money” – literally, stained with palm oil – so i elected to step into the hall and ask for substitute notes. Afterall, the erring papers came from them.
It’s finally here. After years of hits and misses, reminders of promises made to a dying father, a gradually receding hairline, and fielding questions as to ritual oaths and even sexuality, he finally takes a plunge into the deep and wavy sea called Marriage. Yes, it’s the day he finally decides to share his last name with someone, the day he bids adieu to his youth, the day evening hangouts lose their place to intimate family time.
Six months had passed since I last set foot into a church building (my last appearance being Easter Sunday), but I did not feel for a moment that I had missed anything. The reading of the bible passages reeked of dour formality, the officiating priest churned out recycled sermons, the chants were the same, the hymns had not changed much, and I pretty much knew which activity followed the other.
Drab, hot Wednesday afternoon. The office case
files provide no excitement, and I am all alone,
with a wallet as flat as my slippers back home
(my tardiness that morning means no going to
court and ultimately no appearance fee), so I
look to my BBM for solace. I am not sure
however of who would be up for a chat, between
the busy ones who won’t check their phones
until 6pm, or the ones changing selfie after selfie
and updating their contacts with their life history.
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, with much for Felix to look forward to. His boss had decided to be nice and not rob him of his weekend by summoning him to the office, his favourite football club (Chelsea) was featuring in an English FA Cup game in which they were favourites to win (they had been pitched against a club in the lower divisions), and Omoye, his girlfriend of eight months, was cooking up a delicacy, in a bid to save the pots in his house from loneliness. Continue reading
“What was the point washing this car in the first place”?
He is right. Well, Fathers usually are. The season and the dust that accompanies it makes the task of washing automobiles a total waste of time, and the rural dwellings, dust battles for supremacy with the air you breathe. What are you doing in a rural area anyway? Well your family has (against your wish, of course) decided that this year’s Yuletide will be happening in your hometown. It’s your first visit in five years, never mind the fact that the distance between your village and your city of residence is just about 45 minutes. As the years pass, the exotic feel and the excitement of spending Christmas in the old country have waned. Maybe you would be a lot more enthusiastic if the distance was over six hours, like West and East. As a matter of fact, you no longer get it anymore, as to why people risk their lives each year traversing regions for an event that would barely last a week. But Father has spoken, and you have no choice. Continue reading
It’s 9.35am. From the look of things, I got here just in time. I grab one of the few tickets left for this particular bus. Thankfully, I’ve missed that conscience-pricking sermon, I saw that grim-faced motor park preacher stepping aside as I came towards the bus. It also appears that there will be no physically challenged persons hounding us here today, I just saw them leave, and it’s not like I have a low naira denomination to give out anyway. I slot into the third row, as my long limbs make it detrimental for me to sit at the back, no matter the distance. I have the Chief Organizing Tout to thank for creating the space. He has directed someone with a much smaller frame to give up the seat I am now going to occupy for the rest of the journey. When it comes to this transport company, I know better than to sit in the row directly behind the driver’s seat; all kinds of luggage get fixed there, making it difficult for anyone seated there to have room for those necessary body adjustments. Continue reading