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.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
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)
Nimmo
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)
Nimmo
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!
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?
Nimmo
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?
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?
Nimmo
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.
Nimmo
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.
Nimmo
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!
Nimmo
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!
Nimmo
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