Monday, December 24, 2007

Port Harcourt, Calabar & Matters Arising

So I was in Port Harcourt for the ECK African Seminar. It was a blast. There were so many people even Port Harcourt knew something was happening. There was a heavy police presence in the city and around the Temple for the period, I guess because of the number of foreigners at the Seminar.

The roads between Lagos and Benin were nothing to write home about as usual and we spent about sixteen hours on the road. As I couldn't see myself putting down fifty thousand Naira per head for a flight to and from PH by Virgin or Arik Air, I had to use ABC Transport. N50K for a flight within Nigeria is sheer exploitation! Luckily the PH Airport would be opened by last week.

When the current Minister of Transport Dr. Allison-Maduekwe inspected the roads some time ago, the woman was shocked at the state of the road. One cant blame her, she always had Shell helicopters and chartered flights and never really needed to travel by road all along. But she did the civilized thing. She apologized.

Fani-Kayode would probably have cussed us out for complaining about bad roads. Mr. Fix-It of Uromi, who as Minister, collected money for the roads used it to fix other things but the roads. He is yet to apologize. Or be prosecuted. I hope the EFCC will get to that case someday.

From PH, we moved to Calabar. Now thats a city that really knows how to enjoy the holidays. You probably heard of the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' but in Calabar - and indeed the whole Cross River State- there are THIRTY days of Christmas starting from the first of December all through to the end of the year. This city lives up to its name - Come And Live And Be At Rest.

Calabar combines the ancient and the modern. If you want to celebrate Christmas in its rustic form (as we used to know it), come to Calabar for nostalgia. Even if you are very modernistic, still come.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stay beyond two days as I had to hurry back to Lagos for a meeting on Thursday. The meeting portend some good changes in the new year though that remains to be seen.

ARISTO UPDATE: I took Solomonsydelle's suggestion with thanks, and advised my friend Aristo, to take his wife to South Africa for the hols and buy her the biggest rock he could find there. While we were at it, I slipped him the address of my cousin who is a Diamond Broker with De Beers of South Africa. Of course he made the sale. And I get my cut.

What?! Why are you rolling your eyes? Its called Consultancy.

Besides, am I not just being my brothers' keeper?

Happy holidays, y'all!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

ECK African Seminar 2007

The ECK African Seminar will be holding this weekend from Friday 14th to Sunday 16th December 2007 at the Temple of ECK, Obi Wali (Temple) Road, Rumuigbo, Port Harcourt, Nigeria. ECKists (members of ECKANKAR) from about sixteen African countries as well as the US and EU will be there.

The theme of the seminar is 'Discover The Secret Wisdom of Dreams' and the featured speaker is Mike DeLuca who will represent Sri Harold Klemp. There will be many other speakers during the course of the weekend too.

So, if any of you guys happen to be in PH during this weekend, why not pop in at the Temple, learn one or two new things and who knows, we may get to meet. (Just put your nose in the air and 'smell' (thats what you do with the nose, right?) for the bespectacled guy wearing Davidoff Cool Water).

To get to the Temple no hard at all. From any where in PH, call a cab (or bike) and just say 'Temple!'. There is only one.

I look forward to seeing ya face in da place! (Been a long time since I used that)

OK. Please, please do come! You will?. Oh, Thank you.


Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Re: Why Women Cheat ...

This is a rant directly inspired by da Queen QoMC of the same title and my comment on it. You would notice that my comment had little or nothing to do with the post; it was just something on my mind at the time.

I have this friend who I call 'Aristo'. You guessed why; he's almost always in UNILAG! We both had our postgraduate studies in UNILAG about five years ago and at that time we did the Moremi-New Hall-Tinubu rounds together even though he was married then and I was not. (OK. Blame me for aiding and abetting but hear me out first)

We finished PG since 2002 and the last time I was in UNILAG was for a meeting (I swear) but Aristo no gree leave UNILAG o! Every year he's there running one course or the other and he's lucky he's got a stature that belies his age. After almost a decade of married life, he still looks like he's just out of school. He's got a good wife, three beautiful children and a very good job. He should be happy, right?

Aristo always has a program in UNILAG and he specializes in final year babes so that most times he breaks up with them when they graduate and go on youth service. He never hits the same department or faculty twice in a row and so far he's not been caught in his game. He introduced a babe to me last year as his fiancee and she was smiling like a christmas goat. I pitied her.

Every year he sends his family abroad for holidays or just for the fun of it and that gives him room to play the 'bachelor' game. If you visit him at home during this time, you would never believe he was ever married. Sometimes, the 'fiancee' even comes to stay a weekend or two.

Last week the bubble burst. Ironically, it was not over a UNILAG babe but a LASU babe. Stupid Girl came over to his house and his wife was there but she probably thought the wife was a rival too, so she stayed to claim her 'territory''. The wife, who is usually quiet to a fault actually allowed Stupid Girl to stay in her sitting room till late! Aristo called me at about 11 pm at night to give me the whole gist. He was afraid to go home. Guess where he was.

I told him I could not back him up because whatever I do then will have a direct bearing on my relationship with his family. We agreed that he would come clean and we would do the 'crisis management' thingy.

The Wife called me the next day, as per the usual Afenifere to tell me her plight and I really couldn't but sympathize with her as she cried. These were the thoughts running through my mind

1. When her husband hits the gym, what did she think? That he's doing it for her? Men, more than anything, suffer from inertia. It is only the promise of some serious money (as in professional sportsmen) or the promise of some serious pussy that would make a man hit the gym. If any man tells you otherwise ....

2. When her husband dresses up for lectures in the latest hip-hop fashion, does she know why? He wears them so as to 'blend' better on campus. It is is the first law of the Predator, blend as much as possible with your environment. There are some clothes my wife would not allow me to wear now. She wont even discuss it, she would simply run a scissors through them, by 'accident'. Its happened before I assure you. And I learn fast.

3. When her husband goes for his never ending 'lectures' on campus, what did she think? If I want to run any course now, I actually have to apply to my wife first before applying to the school. In fact she is my Educational Counselor and Course Adviser.

Then it gets to the point at which she said -between tears- that she was going to get even. When a woman talks like that me I dont doubt her o and I told my friend so. Now he's scared.

He's been asking me what to do ever since and sincerely, me I dont know. He should just keep begging her. Abi, what else can he do?

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

What Does My Birthday Mean?

So I went to Rayo's for the first time and there was this post about birthdays there so decided to take the plunge. You guessed right, I am a sucker for these things.

I couldn't format it to appear as it did on the page but the koko of the gist is there (with my comments).


Your Birth date: July 28

You have a Type A personality so big it makes other Type A's shrink away in shame. (What's a Type A? Why are you rolling your eyes? I only asked a question)

You never shy away from adversity - and you love to tackle impossible problems. (Hmmm)

Failure is not an option for you, and more than a few people are put off by your ego.(Well .....)

You tend to be controlling, and you hate leaving anything up to chance. (OK. Maybe)

Your strength: Your bold approach to life

Your weakness: You don't accept help (Who? Me?)

Your power color: Bronze (I thot it was Gold! Duh?)

Your power symbol: Pyramid (??)

Your power month: October (Eziokwu? Tell me true word. October!?)

Anyway, I give them 8 per 10. Dem try small.


Thursday, November 22, 2007

Valentine Pink or Woman's Inhumanity To Man

We are about one year in our new flat and are redecorating it again. I have this thing about changing my decor ever so often. i think it has to do with energy levels or something. My wife has stopped commenting. I have repainted the house three times in one year. We had a fire in a flat above us in April and the firemen really flooded the house, is that not enough reason to repaint?

Anyway, there we were at the Dulux Color Center on Aboyade Cole, VI to buy paint and the nice Sales lady brought out a catalog and she and my wife had a small 'Beijing Conference' while I watched. Mind you, I had the colors I wanted in mind but you know this thing about women and colors. Eventually, they emerged with a verdict. For my son's room, they chose 'Valentine Pink'. I mean, I've heard of Fushcia Pink, BabyPink, Powder Pink, Ne-ne-ne Pink but Valentine Pink? Gimme a break!

Question: Bia Nimmo, what do you have a problem with? The Valentine or the Pink?
Answer: The Valentine.

I know most people have fond memories of Valentine's Day but not me. I have had my share of good and bad Valentines but I sincerely have stopped looking forward to it. Not in a very long while. I have so many Valentine stories but let me just share this one and they all revolve around the theme 'Woman's Inhumanity to Man'. Ironically, it didnt happen to me.

This happened in UNIBEN. Valentine 88 or 89, cant remember but it was reported in Kampuswatch magazine (does it still exist?). The story went thus:

There was a guy called Prince. I dont know if Prince was his first name or if he was a prince. (The way every other Bini man claims to be a prince, makes you wonder how many ruling houses they have in Benin.) Anyway, Prince had a babe we will call O'Baby (Not her real name of course).

It was Val's Day and people were just chilling particularly around the Hall One Car park. Guys in their best and Roasters like us going to class to do what our parents sent us to do in school. It was that bad, I no even get babe.

Suddenly Prince emerges with a giant pink teddy bear. You know the type about 3 feet high with 'Hug Me' or 'I love You' written across the front. Come and see commotion. Guys and babes alike were just 'oohing' and 'aaahing'. I know many guys would have turned back with their miserly Val cards they were probably taking to a babe at that time.

Na so Prince walked triumphantly with his 'burden of love' up to O'Baby's room cheered on by the crowd. The world loves lovers, y'know. It was sensational! For the whole week, everybody talked about it on campus. Then came the bombshell.

After just one week of Valentine bliss. O'Baby dumped Prince! Just ONE week! That set up another buzz. Another sensation. And one would have though that they would find a way to patch it up or something but no way o.

I mean, the laws of res judicata and all the emotional estoppels demand that O'Baby should make restitution by at least returning the teddy to Prince abi? (OK. I'm not a lawyer but some Law students actually argued this). For where? O'Baby no gree o. In fact, she not only NOT return the teddy, she then went ahead to name it PRINCE!

O'Baby was C-R-U-E-L!

Moral of the story:
Never, ever buy a teddy bear for a babe. It may replace you.


This joke has probably been on the Internet like forever but its just what I'm talking about.

For the final test, the FBI agent took the first male applicant to a large, metal door and handed him a gun.

The Instructor said, “We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill her!”

The man said, “You can’t be serious! I could never shoot my wife!”

The Instructor said, “Then you’re not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home.”

The second male applicant was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes,

“I tried, but I can’t kill my wife.”

The Instructor said, “You don’t have what it takes. Take your wife and go home.”

Finally, it was the female applicant’s turn. She was given the same instructions-to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few
minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman, panting. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

“This stupid gun is loaded with blanks” she said. “I had to beat him to death with the chair.”

Monday, November 5, 2007

Remember? - 'Perry A' 1936 - 2000

Your name was Peter but your friends called you 'Perry A'. I dont know what your enemies called you (you never introduced anybody to me as such.)

You would have been 71 today. And as usual, you would have celebrated it quietly. Stylishly. I was just wondering, if at that age you would really remember much.

Remember back then, how you would point at any words we see on the road and you would ask me to spell 'eat'? Billboards, kiosks, posters, anything? Remember how we would lie on the bed on Sundays and read all the Sunday newspapers together? Times, Punch, Tribune, Sketch, Concord, you always bought. (Later, you would not read anything except The Guardian). You would read one page and give it me and we went on and on like that until I fell asleep or we had to eat. We never went to church then!

Remember the first time I read Playboy? You said I should look at the words and not the pictures. I was ten or eleven. It was an interview with Sir Roger Moore. You knew I loved Roger Moore. You never liked him much. You always thought Sean Connery was the better Bond (and better actor). And we would argue. Maybe you were right after all. (Connery is still standing long after Moore had disappeared.) I wonder what you would have thought of Pierce Brosnan. And the new guy, Daniel Craig.

Every time you traveled you would buy me books. (OK maybe shoes once or twice). But you would buy shoes or clothes for everybody else - even the neighbors - and books for me. I often wondered if you really liked me. And you always bought packs and packs of Benson & Hedges for yourself. You always bought 'Made in England'. I believe you were probably their biggest customer ever. They even sent us cards and stuff from England every Christmas. Remember?

Remember when you got to know that I had started smoking. I just got into the university. You asked me why. And you said 'This thing will kill you. Maybe sooner. Maybe later, but it will kill you if you smoke it'. But you never stopped me. You never stopped me from doing anything. You only asked me why. And then you tell me about choices and their consequences. Choices and Consequences.

Remember the bad years? You called them The Seven Years of the Locust. It came with the military coup. Remember WAI? Remember how you had to go queue up to buy 'essenco' (Essential Commodities)? You would come back with soap, detergent, milk but always no toothpaste. And we would use Lux to brush our teeth. Or Imperial Leather. And use pako (chewing sticks) only on Saturdays.

Remember when I told you I wanted to leave school in order to help out by going to a more 'free education' school? (I was in boarding school and Mayflower was not cheap.) You cried. That was the first time I would see you cry. And you promised me that we would never have to leave school. None of us. No matter how bad it became. Even if you had to go begging to send us to school, you would. And you made me promise never to think of leaving school again. And I never did. Never.

You always had this thing for fitness. Your body was your greatest vanity. You wanted to stay young for ever. You made sure we bought and wore the same type of jeans and clothes? Remember when you came to see me in school and everybody in the department was asking if you were my brother? Other old guys would have come in agbada or even in suit, but you came in jeans! Remember?

Football was your passion. You would go on and on about your all-conquering Stationery Stores FC of the late '60s. About how you narrowly missed being in the '68 Olympic team because you had to go back to school. The first Nigerian team that 'almost' beat Brazil? We finally got relief when Kanu & co actually beat Brazil and actually went ahead to win gold. Remember?

Remember when the illnesses started? First it was the mild stroke. You had that sorted in no time. You just went in and out of hospital. But the cancer was a bastard. The doctor said the lungs were gone. Even though you had stopped smoking when you found ECKANKAR. But the lungs were gone. And you simply refused to fight it. You said there was no need. Choices and Consequences.

You moved into the hospital. For better care you said. But I knew you just didn't want to be a burden on anyone. You took over a private room and paid. Like moving into a hotel. You said if you had to go, then you would go in style. In style. It eventually took seven long months. Seven months like it would be tomorrow. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow.

Remember how we would talk for hours far into the night? We both knew there was no time. We talked about so many things. You told me about things that had happened even before I was born. About my mother. About the family. About the legend of Sekengbede. About my position in the family. And how important it was for me to succeed. You told me you were proud of me.

You moved your office to the hospital. Your famous drawing board and table. Your clients consulted with you there. You never wanted to be idle. You said your brain would still be working long after your heart had stopped beating. Remember?

The day eventually came. April 30. The doctor called me at the office. Come. That was all he said. I knew. It was in the middle of a fuel crisis. I wonder if you would remember that. But I do.

I remember you every time I look at Little Nimmo. He's just two but one could see he's an old soul in a new body. He uses both hands too, y'know. Just like you. And he always wants to draw 'Circles'. Circles. I wonder if I can be as good to him as you were to me.

I do remember, Perry. I remember you. Always.

My friend. My brother. My father.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Whose World Is It, Anyway?

This post is actually my own comments/reaction to the posts by Laspapi, Tinuke, and Catwalq, I find it interesting that the usual scapegoats for this kind of forum are men. Meanwhile, the problem, as some people had already pointed out, is from other women.

Question: Who rules the world?

Answer: 80% of men agree that its the women. I still think only foolish men believe its a man's world. Remember the story of the head and the neck? For any woman out there who still believe that men rule the world, I say, talk to your mothers, they know better.

'The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world'. Read Chinweizu's 'Anatomy of Female Power' (still available on Amazon, I think).

The female of every kind is usually responsible for its organization into units etc. The male is just along for the ride (He is just 'organized' by a seemingly superior intelligence with or without his consent). Humankind is no different.

Women set up society for their own purposes and to perpetuate the matriarchal hegemony, it became necessary to set up a set of myths one of which is this myth of being the 'weaker' or 'fairer' sex as against the 'stronger' (read brutish) or 'unfairer' sex.

This imposes a burden on Man - poor Man - which he spends the whole of his earthly life trying to shake off but at every turn he is accused of being 'unfair'. Nothing he does is ever right. He has to deal with Woman on her moral high ground which she has set herself by virtue of being the 'victim' in every situation - even the ones she set up herself.

Question: Who set the rules?
Answer: Woman.

Lets take them one by one.

Virginity: Who complained most when Brave One in Catwalq's story married Lost Lady?

Go and check, it was his mother! OK and maybe his sisters. I am sure his father, the Church Elder would have relented eventually (men have a way of letting such things slide) but the poor man would have had no rest in the bedroom from his wife's constant nagging.

Polygamy: Who instituted polygamy? (I know some guys will go 'Men, abi?')

It was the women! With all the inter-tribal wars and sorts going on then, it was necessary to take care of the women who were widowed and the responsibility fell on the more aggressive males in the society who were usually already married. As man no be wood and woman sef no be stone, the practices were formalized and consummated by - you guessed right- stupid men!.

Question: And when a man's gra-gra is getting too much in the society, who takes care of him?
Answer: Women. Go and read Soyinka's 'The Lion and The Jewel' again and discuss what happened to Baroka in the hands of Sidi & the other women in not more than 3 words (He Gat Fcuked!). And did I say A-B-A-C-H-A?

All mammals have hymen one way or the other but a female gorilla that has never mated is not more valuable (holier) than the one that has ten mates. We humans have glorified virginity even to the level of godliness.

Make I no go yarn enter trouble before a fatwa is placed on my head. Let's just say that the Prophet (SAW) did not discount the advise of women in laying down the rules as we now know them - particularly those of his wife.

FGM: I was in Nairobi, Kenya earlier in the year and got talking with some ladies from East Coast - Kenya, Eritrea, Somalia, Uganda, Zambia and Tanzania - and we got talking about 'female circumcision' (an oxymoron, if you ask me).

My ears opened at that discussion! In parts of Somalia and Eritrea, circumcised females actually have their own cult! It was explained to them - by the older women- that that was their own way of equalizing the sexes.

Since men were circumcised, women too are circumcised. (NOTE: I used present tense). All the ladies with me from that side were circumcised. By choice.

Even the flesh cutting act itself is carried out by women.

Talking about cults. Practically everything I know about the Oro cult, I learnt from - guess - my mother! (My Papa na 'enlightened' Lagos man. He didn't know jack about such things).

The conversation ended something like this:

Nimmo: .. but Mama Nimmo, you're not supposed to know about this thing like this now. You are a woman.

Mama Nimmo: Sharrapyamouth! Omode nse e. Who do you think started the whole thing?

You. Answer the question.

If women do all these and more to themselves, why blame us men? Look, its bad enough that we are largely passengers (spectators) in your world but its not fair to be accused of everything that goes wrong.

You chop the yam finish, you take oil rub my lips and you accuse me of starving you.

Give us some slack. Please.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Happy New Year

In ECKANKAR, Religion of the Light and Sound of GOD, today 22nd October marks the beginning of a new year. ECKists all over the world celebrate this day with acts of love and service to all they meet. This new year has been designated as The Year of Blessings.

For all of us who have been waiting on GOD for one form of blessing or the other -spiritual, material, etc.- This is our year.

May the love, wisdom, power and blessings of the One True GOD be with you and yours this day and all the year through.

May the blessings be. (Baraka Bashad)


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Sweet Maria (or What Would My Boyfriend Do?)

I was just about four months on my new job. I was the youngest Manager in a group of companies with interests in manufacturing, Oil & Gas and Consulting. But it was a one man business and many people could not understand why I would leave a multinational company for a one-man business. Me too.

I got a title. A big office. And in the time I had been there, by GOD's grace, there was a lot of improvement in the operations and turnover of the company. The MD would not stop boasting to everybody that I was worth every kobo spent to lure me to join the Group.

One morning, the MD called me to his office and there was the Head HR and another young lady of about 20 with him in the office. I knew she was his first daughter. I had heard about her. Her name was Maria. She was a final year student in UI and was home due to the ASUU strike. So?. Her Dad wants her to work while she's home and the factory would be her first port of call. OK.

Niceties over, I took her to the factory and simply handed her over to the Production Manager. Abi, what's my own? Na work I come work. Besides, na small girl. I see her around and of course we Hi, Hi but nothing really close.

The factory was about one kilometer away from the 'office' which was basically a duplex sharing a compound with another duplex where the MD lives with his family. The two buildings are separated by a wall and an interconnecting gate through which people pass from the 'house' to the 'office'.

One fine morning I was in the office alone (I usually get to the office very early. Allows me time to do some work before people come around), when Maria walked in. She was wearing this short, white terry robe and a pair of slippers. Short, as in just below the crotch!

Maria would not win many pageants in the face department but she got a body! And she had this milk chocolate skin (result of genetic combination from a Yoruba Dad and an Igbo Mum). The robe actually allowed 'maximum exposure'.

'Good Morning.'
'Good Morning, whats up?'
'Mummy says I should take her somewhere today so I will not be going to the factory and I want to have your permission.'
'Well, you will have to ask the PM not me.'
'Ah, but I cant wait for him to come. We will be leaving shortly.'
'So, you should have told him yesterday'
'I didn't know by then'
'Well I'm sorry I can't help you there'

Then she sidled over, holding my hand and pouting like you know how little girls do when they want something. Rubbing her chest on my hand. Or vice versa.
'Pleeeaaase nowwwww'
I stepped back and freed myself.
'Satan get thee behind me. Abi iru temptation wo leleyi? L'aro kutukutu? Alakoba omo.'

At that moment, I heard the door of the Head HR's office open down the hall, so I said
'OK. Go and tell HR. She would take care of it'

Sincerely, I didn't know what to make of that encounter. Was it a setup? Or just coincidence?

Fast forward a few weeks. I needed to attend the funeral of a friend's Dad in Ijebu-Ode and would be out of the office for a few days. I gave adequate notice to the MD. And I probably mentioned it to a few people. I was to leave on Thursday afternoon.

Tuesday afternoon, MD calls me and says 'Maria wants to go see some of her friends in Ijebu Ode but I'm afraid she doesn't know anywhere so please let her tag along with you and drop her on your way there. Oh, of course you can take my car and driver'.

How for do? Me wey no get motor before. The girl obviously had Daddy Dear wrapped around her little pinkie.

We left Lagos for I-Ode around noon. We were both seated at the back. Mr. Samson, the driver was doing his thing. All through the ride, she just leaned back with eyes closed like she was sleeping.

We get to the town center.

'OK, so where do you want to go?"
'I dont know'
'Where's your friends' addresses?'
'I dont have it'
'So how're you gonna locate your friends now?'
'I dont know'
'So what are you gonna do now?'
'Where are you staying?
Excuse me. Did you get my question? What has where I'm staying gotta do with this?
'OK. Where's Gateway Hotel?'
'Oh, is that where your friends stay? Or close by there?'
'No. Thats where I want to stay.'

Logic says: You dont have your friends' addresses. You dont know anybody in this town. You cant call anyone. (No GSM then). Its still daylight, you can go back to Lagos.
She says: I want to stay at the Gateway Hotel.

'Well, I understand the Gateway Hotel is pretty rundown by now (like all government things), I prefer the newer Yisade Hotel'. Me and my oversabi.
'So I will stay there too'. End of story.

We get to Yisade. Got rooms on the same floor. I got a double-room. (I always get a double room). She got a single. What about Mr. Samson? Really not my business. Right? At about 5pm, I was ready to attend the Wake Keeping, so I pop in to ask if she wants to come along. She agreed. We went.

We got back around 9pm and I went straight to my room. About 30 minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I was in shorts and a tee shirt. She was standing there in the same terry robe. Carrying her bag.

'I gave my room to Mr. Samson. I couldn't leave him to sleep in the car. So we will have to share for tonight. Tomorrow, we will sort it out.'

Something in the way she said it just didn't gel. Then it hit me! All the moves. All the shakara. She had no friends in Ijebu Ode. No addresses. It was all a setup. She was right where she wanted. And she had me right where she wanted me.

OK Now. Me sef no dey carry last. I had been in Mugu mode all along. Sharp sharp I switched into Playa mode. No be say I no sabi. I was just respecting my old age. I had just come out of a relationship that ended rather untidily and I didn't want any further complications.

She swayed into the room and sat down on the bed.

'What is it? Are you afraid to share?'. Patting the bed beside her.
'Not really. Just wondering what your boyfriend would say to all these.' Try this. It works.
'All what?'. Coy smile playing on her lips
'All these sleeping on the same bed with another guy.'

Her next question stumped me.

'If you were my boyfriend, what would you do?'

In one quick step, I was standing beside her and she seemed to rise up simultaneously to meet me. We were like a whirlwind.

Lips found each other. She had full, wide lips. Hands groping. Seriously searching. Trying to touch every part of the other. The terry robe went first. And her body could be summed up in one word. Pubescent. Puppy fat everywhere. She had rather large breasts - soft, firm globes and wide hips Why hadn't I seen all these before?

After the initial flurry, I noticed a hesitation about her. Was she going to change her mind? . I pushed slightly and she laid back on the bed as I kissed her all over; claiming the territory. What was that look in her eyes?

I kissed her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her stomach and the thatched, slightly bulging mound between her thighs. She squirmed. I kissed her up and I kissed her down. She looked up at me with such liquid eyes. She looked lost. Then I understood why.

She was a virgin!

She had set me up to be her first!

Monday, October 15, 2007

To Write Or Not To Write? That Is The Question.

I am sorry I have been off-base for some time now (which is my perfect excuse for not updating). More importantly, I have been thinking about this blog thing. What to write. What not to write. Where to start. Where to draw the line. etcetera.

I am a very good reader. In fact, I read anything. I am the guy who buys akara Ten Naira and keeps the newspaper wrapping to read later. I read billboards, posters, road signs, prescriptions (My Doctors have stopped trying to take anything past me. I can read any handwriting), anything . The guy you see driving slowly on 3rd Mainland bridge would probably be me reading the new billboards. Or on Kingsway Road, Ikoyi.

But when it comes to writing, I am probably the laziest writer in the world. Thats why good writers fascinate me. I still dey carry yansh for bloggers like BimbyLads (my blog inspiration y'all know by now). ONB (writes seemingly effortlessly). There's a centered calmness in the writings of da Queen (QoMC) and Tee Diva writes about sex like its a kinda holy ritual. Catwalq is one of those people who seem to write straight from the heart (like the thing just dey flow into the PC). Atutupoyoyo (damn good writer); Porter de Harcourt writes what I call PROSETRY. You need a special kind of knowledge of Yorunglish to write like Her Lyrical Badness, the Chairlady.

What about Toyin Tomato? 36 Inches? O.seyi? ExSchoolNerd (XSN)? Jaja? Mrs. Somebody? The Last King? Kokolette? Mr. Fineboy (Excuse me while I laugh). It takes a special skill to be able to write about nothing in general and everything in particular. People like me cant seem to write without a subject and even at that paapaa na wahala.

My main girl CWB (aka CGP aka NGGG) and Ubong Da, you know why I kept you till last? I just want to be like you guys when I grow up. These two people don corrupt me for my wife finish ehn? But how does one get to write about stuff without actually getting in your own way? I try to write stuff but I end up editing it all away. Talk about self censorship.

I am trying to develop a style of writing and I will be asking you guys to help me as time goes on.

What to write.
I will be rather random in my blogging. I will write about whatever catches my fancy. Its all about me right? I will write about stuff I had done and some I still do and I will do so as I remember/recall them (as per old age now).

What not to write
As I told you, I am married. I will not write about what I do with my wife. E no concern you.

When to write
As the Spirit directs ....

I must thank all those who have been encouraging me (e.g. CWB), threatening me (e.g. CWB) and even abusing me (Ndi Anonymous on other blogs) to update. What can I do without you guys?


PS. Is it only me or does anyone else notice a similarity in the writing styles of Waffarian and CWB? Is it the Waffy connection or what?

Friday, October 5, 2007

A to Z of Me

Those who know me know that I dont like talking about myself. I can talk about what I do/did/done but rarely about myself. My mother says mo d'inu - cant say it in English - but like won ni lati te ikun e ki oro to j'ade (they have to press my stomach to get words out of me).

My father said I had the mentality of a secret agent. Blame him. From a very early age, I had read all the Ian Fleming, Arthur Conan Doyle, James Hadley Chase, Nick Carter, Alistair Maclean, Mario Puzo and others in his library and I almost always identified with the bad guys. I called myself The Dark Agent. In fact at some point, my favorite quote was "If I told you that, I would have to kill you". I actually said that to my Dad. Walahi.

I stole this A-Z meme from Mrs. Somebody's blog. Well I guess it was a tag. I think we are alike as I seem to agree with some of her answers (except the ekpang nkukwo bit). I will try to answer the ones I can. So listen very carefully, I shall say this only once...

Accent: None. (Have been accused of all sorts of things over this. Once detained at the Togolese border for 'NOT talking like a Nigerian')

Booze: Strong H2O - does that count? I drink it everyday.

Chore I Hate: Cant really think of one.

Dogs/Cats: Cats

Essential electronics: Laptop, phone.

Favourite Perfume: Davidoff Cool Water

Gold/Silver: Gold

Hometown: Lagos

Insomnia: Sometimes

Job title: Business Development Manager

Kids: 1 son

Living arrangements: Flat

Most admired trait: Smile

Number of sexual partners: Currently?.....One.

Overnight hospital stays: Yes

Phobia: Brokaphobia

Quote: "Dieu est donc moi suis""GOD is therefore I am" - Me

Religion: Eckankar

Siblings: 5 (3 brothers, 2 sisters )

Time I usually awake: About 5 a.m

Unusual talent: I can break anything down to the basics. I hardly ever forget names.

Vegetable I refuse to eat: Cant think of any.

Worst habit: Procrastination, biting and chewing my finger nails

X-rays: Several

Yummy foods I make: Coconut rice, Ewa agonyin, Moi-moi

Zodiac sign: Leo (28th July)

Now that you know ALL about me, I guess I have to kill you.

Dark Agent. Out.


Thursday, October 4, 2007

So Much Things to Say..

'I can never forget -no way - dey crucified Jeh-sos Christ!
I can never forget -no way- dey sold Marcus Garvey for rice!
Dont you forget -no use- who you are and where you stand in the struggle.
Hey, we gat so much things to say right now, (we gat) so much things to say.

Okay. That was Bob Marley. I always wondered what crucifying Jeh-sos Christ got to do with selling Marcus Carvey for rice but I guess its all about the rhyme. Not about the reason, just the rhyme. And yes, I gat so much to say but I dont know where to start.

Question. Who send me sef? Abi na by force to blog?
Answer: Thank you o, na so dem dey ask person. No blame me o. Na jeje jeje I siddon for my house (a la K-1), my wife (Yes, I'm married. See my ring) had bought a copy of the True Love magazine and there was the picture of dis cutie dem call BimbyLads. Of all the bloggers profiled,na she just cash me pass, so the next day, I went to her site and read everything she had ever written (I'm still reading o. Dat girl can write.)

From BimbyLads, I got introduced to all the other Naija bloggers and I kept reading and reading. Then I read Ubong Da and I couldn't help leaving a comment. And then, I thought 'Hey, I can do this!". And then, I come and resolve to start a blog. And then, I come and start looking for a blog name. And I come and decide on N.I.M.M.O. Then, I come and start and register. Then, I come and start. And then, I come and have writer's block. And then, I come and meet all these wonderful peeps who keep urging me on (Edumare bless una jare). And then, I come and become the favourite blog of the Anonymous Community (Ndi Anonymous) on Blogland (they cant touch this). And then, and then, and then... are you still reading?

I'll be back!


Friday, September 21, 2007

Writer's Block Already??

I dont know what write. After all the preparations; all the blog layout adjustments, all the resolutions etc.

I just came up EMPTY! Na so dis thing hard?

I had everything I wanted to write. Scratch that. I thought I had everything i wanted to write.



Recent Comments