When I look at Nowadays Boys, I see myself. The good, the bad and the ugly aspects of skirt-chasing.
The good news is that boys are worth their weights in pure gold for their resourcefulness. I think boys should be earning 6-figure wages for the time, energy, and audacity expended in the endless chase of the fairsex.
The down side of this is that we are no better than dogs chasing after cars they will never get to ride. The chase is all the fun there is, the kill (even when we hit “bull’s eye”) is of no consequence. Isn’t that wastefulness?
Now the ugly side of skirt chasing is non-existent. What can be ugly about chasing after those pretty thing? Besides wine and songs, which is recommended by many a holy writs, ‘Women’ is a trophy which brings a sense of euphoria when won. Isn’t such lofty ideals worth pursuing. Even if one can only touch the helm of the garments, one will find fulfillment.
Be The foregoing as it may, I am put off by such quixotic manner boys of nowadays go making sacrilege of the fine art of Skirt-Chasing. I think it is sinful, such usurpation of the ordained natural order of things. I cannot elaborate in details what these boys do, it is too sinful to contemplate.
I feel like coming out of retirement, to teach these incompetent boys some useful life lessons in Skirt-Chasing. I wish I am not born again. Well, someday, I am going to write my memoir. I only hope Boys Of Nowadays will stop, for once, in there heedless chase to read. I will write, all the same, then I will have fulfilled my own righteousness. So help me God!
I just can’t wrap my head around the concept of FRIENDS WITH BENEFIT. Why does the brotha have to play ATM always, and the Sistah be at the receiving end all the time?
I recourse to looking in the Oxford Advanced English Learner’s Dictionary for what “friends” and “benefit” might mean, but I am distressed here as what I find out about “friend” and “benefit” is far cry from my real life experience of the word.
Miss Comfort (surname withheld) is my good friend of say 10 years now. We go way back to my cavalier days at Ambrose Alli University, in ’03. We reconnected in Lagos after graduation. She’s still single, and I am single too; she still got needs those needs that I alone can fill, I am her friend indeed.
But I am re-examing this friendship. She’s changed recently and is trying to change me (technically speaking)
Only this afternoon, while out galivanting around Lagos, I got this text from her:
Chris,I am in need. pls can u lend me at least 4 thousand naira. I want 2 use it 2 buy …stuff and some drugs,…
That is a friend in need, and there I was pissing my money away on beer and some chics of easy virtues. I stopped, checked in my pocket and found I had a little less than four Thousand Naira on me, no ATM Card, no thought of borrowing. I called her telling her I was coming over if she was at home. She was home and I went over to her place.
Flying Okada, and ridding in keke to get to Comfort’s place, from Ikeja to Ijaiye, I got there in one piece and some Naira short. It was late already and I was in such a mad rush to get home in time that I didn’t even spare a moment to cuddle and chit-chat. I gave her two thousand Naira and made a dash. There was no “thank you sweetie”. I didn’t mind that slip, after all she’s distracted by ill health as she said in the sms (though she looked alright, talked alright).
I dashed out of Comfort house one sad brotha. The frown on her face could only have meant I forked up not forking over the whole loot. I have kept some change to transport back home with, and she was eyeing it. She actually commented, in place of ‘thank you sweetie’, that:
only if I can get a thousand Naira more…”
“Crap”, I said inaudibly. She didn’t appreciate my gesture, I am dishing out all I got on me to help a friend, and my gesture is unappreciated? that sucks. I should be regretting responding to her distress call. Well, anything goes in love in friendship as well as in war. I will count my teeth with my tongue and take my loss. She succeed in further wrestling a fifty Naira note out of my hand. I took my loss in good faith. But I am not a happy man this instant. This is not the first time Comfort played smarter with me. I want to make it the last at any rate.
The other day, I was as horny as a goat, and wanted relief. I went a-calling on Miss Comfort, do you know what went down that day at her place? Well, that will be story for another day. Just watch this space. Ciao!
THE PROBLEM WITH NIGERIAN LITERATURE:
…the decline in readership has nothing to do with the dilemma between the print and digital publishing; the decline is an effect of severe economic weather aggravated by our fallen educational standard. The government-owned schools in Nigeria are eyesores, such that the products of those institutions come out without inclination to anything intellectual let alone literary. While existing Publishing outfits like Farafina and Cassava Republic are only interested in writers who have won a prize or celebrated overseas,
THE FEASIBLE SOLUTION(?):
Recognisable Intellectuality and literary enthusiasm would only resume if two things are restored. First, the harsh economic climate that came with the misplaced policies of Nigeria government and the fallen standard of education, in a system where a graduate of even literature confesses that he or she doesn’t like reading. Literature is not the endangered; it’s the larger intellectual realm. Everyone is after what translates into instant cash, largely because of our economic system and anti-intellectual mentality acquired in school. You see, before you say that a fellow doesn’t love poetry, ask about the number that hates mathematics. Majority of Nigerian students read only to pass examinations, after which they abandon their field of study and go searching for money.
Yes, it would be easier to be a writer in a milieu that intellectuality or literary enthusiasm is celebrated.
AND WE’RE BACK WHERE WE LOST TRACK:
there’s this disgusting exudation of inferiority complex among Africans; we’re inclined to certain beliefs that everything that comes from the West is special. It annoys.
SO WHAT’S GOING ON?
So, there’s an interesting awakening going on (?)
THE PROBLEM WITH NIGERIAN LITERATURE
The problem with Nigerian literature is mostly outside of the writing itself—by this I mean related issues such as the dearth of publishing… blah blah blah
ENTER THE DOC: WORD ROUND
The idea is to provide both traditional publishing and self-publishing options to the Nigerian market with an emphasis on quality writing and aesthetics, and strong marketing and promotion. Our idea of doing things differently has seen us extend our risk by giving our writers sign-on fees.
A SIDE KICK TO THE CRANIUM
I am interested in criticism, but I feel that what I write must be set apart from the common review which has its major purpose being recommendation.
A DOSE TO BOOST THE HEADACHE
I think most poets are too much in a hurry to publish their first poems. I’ve felt sad to be given collections comprising sixty, seventy poems of which two-thirds have no business being there
BUT WHAT AILS NIGERIAN LITERATURE?
…the dearth of publishing and the rise of corner-store-printer-publishers; also the high cost of paper when compared to the competing demands for the average amount the average person has as disposable income for leisure—buying and reading books is considered a leisure activity in Nigeria.
WETIN CONCERN ME?
The absolute collapse of book distribution networks and the non-existence of bookshop chains are also serious challenges.
Palm wine is such a fine vintage. It has served our ancestors for millennia, and some of those ancestors have become deities. Ogun, the African god of iron, and war is a case in reference.
There are plentiful of lofty appellate for palm wine. Emu, Ogoro, palmy et cetera, certainly. Palm Wine is actually the sap of certain species of the the palm tree. The sap is tapped by making expert cuts near the stalk of the leaves at the top of the palm tree. It is not further processed. It could be drunk straight up. The longer it is left lying about the stronger it becomes due to the mystery of fermentation which defies chemistry. Only a connoisseur will know this.
Some smart entrepreneurs have begun to bottle palm wine though. I don’t know if they export it yet. But nothing beats palm wine drunken from a keg, or gourd, as tradition demands.
The white frothy drink is no doubt the elixir of life. It is good for the eyes, as palm wine is a rich source of vitamin A, B1, B2 and B6. It is widely drunk for for leisure, for rituals, in happy times and other times. It is curious to note that Palm Wine could be imbibed for libidinal performance enhancement, and general energy boost. Sometimes too, the fresh wine is used in homeopathy (that is ensuring wellness)
When fermented, palm wine gets really, really heady, so heady that it induces psychedelic euphoria or ecstasy. The fermented Palm Wine is fondly referred to as “overnight” in Sapele parlance, and usually favoured only by the brave at heart.
Back in the good old days, when men were still mere boys, my school friends and I used to opt for “overnight” that was when we needed to get high and dope was scarce. We would spike a keg of palm wine with the juice of boiled indian hemp and Guinness stout and sometime Aromatic schennapps.
There are intellectuals, and sages who are of the view point that palm wine enter into the arcade of world heritage. I am of that mind too.