TANGO WITH ME (Aberdeen Screening)

Tango front

Tango With Me is an award winning Nollywood film written/produced/directed by Mahmood Ali-Balogun & Femi Kayode.

‘Tango With Me’ addresses issues that are often not discussed effectively or constructively in the African/wider community and this has seen the end of some marriages and relationships. The presentation of the film is top-class production, enlightening yet entertaining. It is therefore no wonder it has been nominated for and won 5 awards at the African Movie Academy Awards with excellent reviews from film critics and the media.

Come on and celebrate Valentine’s Day in Aberdeen , Scotland in a very special way! Come along and ‘Tango’!

This exclusive Aberdeen event is screening ONLY (no red carpet) at the Belmont Picture House, Aberdeen from 1030pm.

Please call 0790 44 77 811 for tickets and event details or email info@trendypr.com. Also see details below.

tango back


Courtesy of Trendy PR (www.trendypr.com)

The Office (1)

I was watching the US smash TV series “The Office” some weeks ago, when I had a eureka moment. How about an article about the diverse characters and nutters that make up a typical Nigerian office’s workforce. And why not? I have been blessed (depending on how you look at it – maybe I am bad at committing to one place or I have gotten the sack everywhere I have worked) to work in a multiplicity of corporate (and not so corporate) environments.

My folks pushed me towards the door, as soon as I had turned in my final dissertation in for my first degree. No food for lazy man. I scored my first intern job in an alcoholic beverage corporation whose main product rhymes with Aguda (figure that one out). I was the archetypical intern. On my first day, I was pointed to an old dusty steel cabinet to sort out files and records which looked like they had been scattered by a 5 year old. You should try arranging folders with Nigerian names alphabetically. Folder 53456 is UWABUNKEONYE, Folder 53457 is UWAILOMWAN Folder 53458 is UWEMEDIEMOH……..Not to come across racist but the Urhobo names were the hardest..

I mean I have worked in companies where everything was rationed, even the stapler clips. I have been employed at an outfit where one chap was a perpetual latecomer. Considering where he lived, there was no way he could make it on time to work. He knew this, his manager knew this, the director knew this, HR knew this. But the guy’s matter tired everyone. This company was located in Apapa, and this dude lived all the way before Alaba. Due to the incessant traffic on that Maza Maza/ Mile 12 axis, and the terrible roads, he usually got to work around past 9.

So he asked (no instructed me) to do him a favor. Since I usually got to work around a few minutes to 8, I was to switch on his computer, and take out a black suit jacket which he kept in his desk drawers and hang it on his chair. This would give the impression to whoever inquired that he had arrived work on time but “was not on seat” because he had momentarily stepped out for “inspections” or “breakfast.”

He was soon found out when a director came looking for him one morning. Someone in the office mentioned that he had come in but not briefly stepped out. The director did not become a director from being fooled easily so he decided to wait this one out. When the late-comer had not come in at 9am, he (the director) tried his mobile number and the following conversation ensued:

Director: Latecomer (not his real name), this is the Director of Marketing. I have been in you office for the past 20 minutes looking for you. Where are you?

Late-comer: I am around sir. I just briefly stepped out.

Director: Is that so? Briefly stepped out to where, pray tell?

Latecomer: I am in the Logistics Department where I went for inspections.

Director: Oh, I see…I spoke to Mr. Lucky, the logistics manager like 30 minutes ago. Please put him on the line for me. I want to ask him something.

Latecomer: Err…actually sir…

The next thing in the background, the director heard a hawker panting as he said “Oga, I no fit find 5 naira change for the Gala o. My sister wey dey sell orange talk say she got get change. Abi you wan buy pure water join?”


The director said “Oh you are still on the road to work, buying Gala on company time abi? I will take this up with Human Resources. Please see me when you get in. I am recommending you for summary dismissal.”

Story. You won’t believe that Latecomer did not get fired eventually. He actually remained in that office for an additional 5 years until he moved because the banking sector had taken off.

Rumor was that maybe he had naked pictures of the Human Resources director smashing a Youth Corper in his office or something. He was just unsackable..

Watch out for Part 2.


Esco is back after a brief hiatus. Hello everyone! While I was away, tending to the side inconvenience that is my private life, there have been a lot of speculations, accusations, counters and chat on the grapevine.


I have received emails, and tweets , asking about my whereabouts, egging me to write new articles. Stuff like, Esco where are you. Are you still alive? There are reports that someone fitting you description was seeing boarding an aircraft with a one way ticket out of blogsville.


Some of the questions I have been asked are more left-field. Stuff like: Are you stories real or fables plucked from Tales by Moonlight. How do you come up with the material? What are your plans for the future? Is this blog’s relevance tied to the Nigerian nationhood experiment? Why do you put rap lyrics after each post? Why don’t you the lyrics of Nigerian artists like Lord of Ajasa or Eddy Remedy? If this is a Nigerian blog, you should have used an agama lizard on your blog mast instead of an albino lion. Why use black soil for the background instead of Ankara (or Aso-ebi).


Has Esco abandoned this blog because I hear he is now the Personal Advisor/ Assistant on Blog Affairs to a State Governor, and so he is cleaning out. He has even put up a house in Lekki Phase 1 and even twitted the picture, and it trended like pictures of Cossy’s boobs. In fact Esco has reportedly abandoned this blog, in search of Rueben Abati money.


Some many questions. Thank you, thank you. I will give a brief statement:


I had some much going on privately. I had actually typed out drafts for 4 super articles on my phone. However while I was downloading the twit picture of Cossy Ojiakor’s bobby taylors when my phone crashed completely on me. The memory got wiped out along with the articles.


One reader had even abused me for supposedly catching the Nigeria malaise of never keeping up a good thing. True, most Nigerian businesses start misbehaving once they start raking in customers. Customer service falls and the business usually goes south. I remember a mama put place that used to be the bees’ knees. The food was awesome – their stew was a work of art. Bouncy grains of rice, chunks of goat meat in a deep fried tomato broth. The owner of the business personally cooked the dishes and served the punters. She even knew all her customers by name, and even befriended their wives and girlfriends. On some days, a few regular could ask for extra meat on credit, and pay at month end. Then the Lagos massive discovered the place. The woman started raking in serious cash, and then her true colors came out. She became cocky and abrasive. She stopped cooking the food personally and hired cooks instead, as she could not bear palm-oil stain on her lace jacquard. She would seat at a corner of the joint with a tooth-pick in her mouth, counting the takings.


When I now walked in and greeted her “Madam how you dey?”, she barely grunted an answer. I stopped going there, because the last time I was there, customers were fighting to wash their own plates so they could buy food. Na so?


As regard my abandonment of the blog, my answer is “never that.” If I ever became a Big Time Charlie, raking in that kind of dough, I would purchase the technology to make this blog world-class. I would buy cartoon drawing equipment, as I yearn for the days of Papa Ajasco and Benbella type comics. Comic and cartoon strips would better illustrate the story of Nigeria.


Are the stories in this blog real? I refer you to the “Caveat” section of the Blog. Please peruse and revert. I will say this – the stories are based on real life, but the names have been change to protect the innocent, but shame the guilty.


Why the delay between posts? Abeg no vex. As the articles on this blog are original material, my thought processes and private life determines my output. If I have a shit day or writer’s block or if the price of garri and fuel goes up, there goes any postings. Maybe I should start doing fashion, music and entertainment like all others. Ha ha.


Going forward, I require the services of blog consultants as I need advice on how I can turn this blog into a financing business. 419ers and scammers please stay away, or I will wake up at midnight to pray against you. Please any do-gooders or people with knowledge about blog marketing should hit me up via email or twitter. All suggestions are welcome. Yahoo yahoo folks please stay away.


The next questions are the ones I want to ask you, so I can get to know you better. I have a few regular readers/ commenters. Please take a sec to answer a few of the below questions.


  1. How did you find out about this blog? Referral, internet search or just cyber busy-body? Please expatiate.
  2. How often do you check for new material.
  3. What do you like about Literati: Satires On Nigerian Life. What pisses you off about the blog (apart from the apparent laziness of Esco)
  4. Where are you based? Please name country, city, state, hamlet etc. etc. (this is for marketing/ affirmative action purposes. Don’t worry, I wont divulge your location to EFCC or anything)
  5. What is your favourite post/article so far. Why?
  6. If you were president of Nigeria for a day, what would you do?




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All I Do Is Win (Sometimes)

One of the distinct disadvantages of writing is that sometimes sarcasm is lost in between the lines, and may come across as bitter sour grapes. I hope this turns out right.

I won’t lie, I wasn’t aware of when the Nigerian Bug Awards took place. I was on baby duties that evening, and the infant was on a roll churning out soiled diaper after soiled diaper. When I managed to get the wee one to sleep in my arms, I transferred her to her cot and did a small victory dance. I then tip-toed to watch the Copa America football tournament on TV in the living room. I fell asleep on the sofa, only to woken up by the baby’s loud yells of “Bros, I never chop for 3 hours o! Come give me food abeg before I tear down the walls with cry cry Similac or Cerelac?

Nah seriously, the next morning, I saw the Nigerian Awards results on my twitter-feed, and spat out my Golden Morn cereal. I went through 3 different emotions. The first one was a Buhari type of disappointment. I was really hoping that somehow that maybe a true juggernaut blog like BellaNaija had re-entered the competition at the eleventh hour and swept all the awards deservedly. Thinking back, initially I was a bit surprised that none of the blogs on my blog-roll was nominated in the first place. Not only did I not win, but my judgment has been called into question.

I have read some truly awesome blogs, some of which I decided to add to my blog wall. From the direct and tell it as it is “Ms Luffa” to Waila Caan’s awesome diary of London and the quirky happenings on the Tube, to RustGeek’s quirky musings about life in freezing Aberdeen, to Today’s Naira which is a very welcome blog about financial management and fiscal discipline in today’s Nigeria.  Then there is Stuff Nigerians Hate, a blog I really like with its dark comedy and spoofs. And I also have to mention one of the most well put together online journals about Nigerian and UK weddings, the Wedding Trendy blogsite. The videos on the 4AcesDate blog are some of the most creative stuff I have seen on a blog too. In fact all the blogs on my wall were painstakingly chosen blogs which are unique and have my respect; and I had nominated them for various categories.  Awesome blogs all.

I later got over it, because I somehow reasoned that I had lost the popular vote. I may have been a bit lax in canvassing for votes; understandably, but a part of me feels it is corny to go all out soliciting for votes. Your body of work should speak for you always, innit? To be fair, I try to read a little bit of everything, and would click on most links to blogs when I am on more popular websites. I fancy stuff that is different and thoughtfully written – material that can challenge my brain cells and my perception on matters, and open up new frontiers of knowledge.You can always tell when a blogger writes from the heart. Heart is what blogging is about. If you use your isi or ori , to write blogs, your articles would read like Physics for SS3. I also prefer Indie blogs which are not on the mainstream.

But you know how sometimes something unfortunate happens to you, and you try to brush it under the carpet, but well-wishers and friends actually won’t let you because they are genuinely hurt for you, and appalled by the sense of injustice surrounding the whole matter? And as a result, their anger re-ignites yours, as you begin to really see their point of view? Well it happened to me, after I had brushed off my initial disappointment.  I clicked on a link on the Nigerian Blog Awards’ twitter feed, which directed me to their website, and I saw the touching comments of some of you readers there. Some of my dear blog readers had left comments complaining about the fact that I had not won! You guys know that I love you, right? I love you like Agege bread and fish stew, I love you like house flies love Mushin dustbin; I love you like Buhari and Presidential election. Heck, I heart you more than Dangote loves cement. Shout out especially to Stelzz and Tinkerbell.

At that point, I picked up my pen and paper and started to write this (actually I looked for an old receipt code for a Cyber Café near my house, then went there and logged in).

The last time people showed me this kind of concern where they “were drinking Panadol for my sickness” was way back in secondary school. It was a balmy night in boarding school when I was in Form 3. We had finished exams for the 2nd term, so everybody was in a crazy mood later that evening during prep. When you have a motley crew of 100 jobless adolescent boys with nothing to read for, it is a recipe for disaster. Some started drumming loudly on the classroom desks. A few broke into some kind of Indian war dance. Many started slapping junior students about. And a good few started smashing coke and soft drink bottles about. Food fight! But without liquid contents only.

Then 2 chaps got into a fight in the classroom quadrangle outside over some petty issue. Chaps gathered around them urging them on in gladiator fashion with the chants “It is a rack! It is a rack!!” With their Clarks sandals, dirty clothes, and one of them still wielding a fork (from the dining hall), they did look like gladiators from the Spartacus series. All that remained was a net (mosquito net) and a lion to devour the loser (our strict Boarding House Master would suffice).

I was rushing out from one of the classes to ‘add’ my own quota to the fight, adrenaline pumping and all,  when I stepped, full weight, on a huge shard of glass. All I saw was blood everywhere – the glass which was from one of the smashed bottles had sliced through my bathroom slippers and cut me inches deep.

The two chaps racking postponed their tussle, and everybody now gathered around me. One of the chaps there took a look at my bloodied foot and yelled in horror:

“Oh shit! Esco, you are mortally wounded. That wound doesn’t look good at all. It is so deep that I can see your nerves and bone”

Some people took a look, and the expression of their faces was that of doom and anguish. One of the fighters even started crying.

I echoed what I had heard, as I was in shock “Oh damn! I am really mortally wounded. My nerve and bone are showing. If I die, what am I going to tell my ma? She will be really pissed that I was so careless to step on a bottle”

Everyone nodded in agreement – I was royally screwed.

Then one chap, who was sort of a school captain wanna-be goody-two-shoes type, shoved his way into the circle, and took a look at the cut. He started calming things down “Relax Esco, don’t try to pull your foot up. We will rush you to the House Master, and get an exeat to take you to the school hospital. Someone should bring a clean handkerchief, let me bind this wound and stop the bleeding. Esco you are not mortally wounded. You will be alright.”

With such a calming influence directing things, boys dispersed into groups. Some arranged for the exeat, some got a hanky and water to dress my cut. They all followed me to the hospital, and waited in the waiting lounge until I came out – sewn and bandaged, and no worse for wear.  Eiyaa, I was moved – if I had broken a bone, I could have allowed them sign on the cast as a reward. Too bad, they can’t sign on plaster – it would be painful suicide. Good fellas, my ex-school mates huh? My misery even settled a dangerous fight, see?

That was the last time people I was not friends with bumped their heads over my matter.

From reading various blogs after the awards, there seems to be a general feeling of dissatisfaction at the results. Some bloggers who were upset about the outcome of the awards have blamed it on the emergence of “Twitter” or celebrity bloggers who garner votes by the sheer number of friends they could galvanize via social medium networks to sway voting in their favor. In one blog I read, the upset writer said that he wasn’t surprised at what he termed ‘rigging’ as Nigeria itself recognizes quantity over quality.

I couldn’t help but agree with that slightly. In Nigeria if enough people make noise about something persistently, it easily sways people’s perception on what should go. I would give the simplest example. I did my NYSC 3 week orientation in a small town in Cross River state some years back, although I got a transfer to Lagos for my primary assignment and for the rest of the service year. Those 3 weeks in Cross River were priceless moments though. I and small posse of friends from one particular infamous platoon strode like colossuses in the camp. We made a particular Mammy market joint our spot and chilled there while other people were doing back wrenching tasks. We bought the soldiers beer in exchange for camp privileges. Some other people started hanging out at the spot because of us, and the patron was pleased at the amount of custom we were bringing her so every morning she would ask us what we wanted her to cook for the day, and that became the day’s menu.

Now my close friend Chidi really fancied a chick in our platoon – a butter-skinned, full hipped beauty by the name of Ify. Who could blame him; Ify made the NYSC uniform look like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider. She had curves like a Blackberry. We decided among my clique that she was going to be the next Miss Camp, and that we were going to sway the votes in her favour. We gathered a group of hangers-on who chanted her name furiously during the NYSC beauty pageant show. Our group whistled and booed other contestants until the judges were dizzy themselves.  Soon most people in the crowd started supporting our candidate by cheering for Ify and booing the contestant in their own platoon! Ultimately the panel of judges was swayed into making Ify Miss Camp. She would have been better suited for Miss Ramp, if such an award ever existed, but alas the people had spoken. The hug and kiss she gave Chidi when she was presented with her ‘crown’ and prizes was priceless. For him.

The next night, we repeated the process for the Miss Hot-Legs pageant. A social-climber girl had approached us to beg and bribe us with beer to help ‘support’ her bid to win Miss Hot-Legs. We huffed and puffed during the pageant but everything has a limit. She ended up as first runner-up even though she had short yamerous pins. Abi we no try? Some of the presidential and governorship aspirants should really have contacted me.

After I saw the results of the Blog Awards and the way some of you stood up for me, the last emotion I felt was a sense of injustice towards the award process. In fact I felt like Arnold Schwarzzenegger’s character in the movie Total Recall, and wanted to echo what he did and screamed out in the below movie scene, to the Award process:

Nah seriously, I have taken everything into perspective. It is not that important in the grand scheme of things. Not to sound corny, but your comments and hits on my blog are enough for me. By the way, please buy the book when it’s up for sale.

Love Forever


The Pounded Yam And Pure Water Awards (7)

Na you biko

  • My first Pounded Yam Award goes out to you. Yes, you. My awesome readers. Nope, it is not because it was blog election time recently. These thanks have been a long time coming. You guys keep me going on days when my pen feels heavier than my sword. I would have said that you guys are the wind behind my back and the earth beneath my feet but some people may misunderstand and think I am swearing for them.

Nah seriously, you guys are gems. I should really start a competition and give away gifts on this blog. Should I give gifts or presents? They are actually different things you know. I would explain one day – that’s another topic for another day. What would be an ideal prize? An I-Pad or sanitary pad? A new Blackberry minus the battery and charger? A plastic fan for days when NEPA takes light? An Airtel sim card? A branded 7Up umbrella? Or a boiling ring to help you with preparing Indomie and getting ready for work? Or maybe I should give out La Pearla Lingerie (which I must inspect on you myself – girls only oh) or a Shan George CD? I think I will give this one some thought. Or you decide.

  • The current season of Love in the Wild showing on Wednesdays at 9pm Central Time on NBC (Yankee only sorry). I am sure Don Movies would carry it after the season finishes, so it would be available in Nigeria via our neighbourhood 50-in-1 DVD hawkers. It’s a reality show where a group of guys and chicks spend time in a jungle, completing tasks and getting eliminated couple by couple. Think Rock of Love meets Gulders Ultimate Search meets I am a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here. Now mix that with Fuji House of Commotion, and you may come close to this hybrid of a show. Watching episode 3 of the show, I have finally concluded that some girls’  head dey touch, and that’s why they can’t have a normal relationship with a fella. There are girls who show epic forms of emotional instability ranging from unrealistic expectations, delusions of grandeur to over-clinginess. Believe me, shakara beats desperation any day. If a guy says hello to you, it doesn’t mean ‘hi’.

Unfortunately in this cold world, there are sad, sad men who beat their wives up and mutilate them. Akolade “Jack the Ripper” Arolowo murdered his beautiful wife in cold blood some weeks back, and now it seems that Nigerians have our first own psychopath. Or this may be the first domestic fatality that has really caught national consciousness due to the fact that they are middle class professionals so it hits close to home. Rest in peace Titilayo ….My heart also goes out to their daughter.

Provided that they were not party to a cover-up in anyway, I can’t help but feel a bit sorry for his folks. This is a real hot mess of a situation to be in; I mean how will be able to live down this shame? They are lucky that they are Yoruba sha. They could relocate to Oyo or Ogun state, start a new life and change their surnames to Smith or Tokunboh.  If they were Igbos, they would have been socially finished in every manner possible. First of all, the killer’s sisters would remain unmarriageable; any chap who is interested in marrying them would start preliminary investigations, and be told the full story by player-hating amebos. These town-criers would also tell the suitor that madness and murder runs in killer’s family blood. Their village would probably ostracize the parents as well.

In some quarters, it would be a different story however, if the parents suddenly become billionaires or came into a huge fortune. Then, they would be treated as royalty by some village elders; the whole matter may be hushed and they may even be given chieftaincy titles to boot. Standards differ, huh?

  • PES 2012 – I am a massive Pro Evolution Soccer fan, and I have owned almost very installment since it came out in the 90s. Girlfriends/wives would hate this game – it is almost better than sex (with some girls o), and it is smoother than French silk on the ass (so I heard o). It even feels better than cold pure water, after hours in a hot Lagos molue bus.

Jon Champion the English correspondent for Konami (the makers of this game) recently released this video-blog via twitter regarding the developments/improvements on the game coming out this October. I am glad that you can play as some of your favourite European teams, but I think it is time for Jigawa United, Kano Pillars, Owerri Heartland FC and Enyimba FC to feature in a Pro Evolution Soccer game, no? They could code the game so that the referee would make sure no Nigerian team can win an away match against another Nigerian team, just like in real life. Also, they should fix Osaze in the game. He is so charcoal skinned in the game – can’t they see that he is ‘a half-caste.’  I selected him once, and thought it was Obafemi Martins I was seeing.

 If you are also a fan, you can view the  PES 2012 video blog  here

Till then I am still rocking PES 2011 with respect.

  • Asaba Airport has just commenced commercial flights. My own state (Imo) has an airport (a national airport at that), which I am very proud of. Yes it looks like a set of boys-quarter bungalows with a Yipee tank looking control tower, but it is still the only airport built by the people in Nigeria. Yes, even the nappy airport in that Jimbo cartoon from the 80s looks better than my state’s own, but na una sabi.

Asaba having its own airport is massive. Now people can leave my state airport alone, and have an alternate route. It would encourage economic development in the Delta region and make Asaba a true commercial hub. How times have changed. When I was a youngster, travelling for Christmas with my family in our trusty 504 station wagon, Asaba was a shanty town bordering bigger cousins in the then Bendel state. It was the last stop until you crossed over the Niger bridge to the core Eastern lands. I remember Asaba for the fact that they sold a “donut-type” akara. Have you ever seen or had one? It is an akara with all sorts of filling in it – chopped eggs, onions, tomato, sardines, corned beef, the seller’s nappy hair strand etc. On its own, it was a’ight, but combined with a healthy slice of Chukwuemeka Special Bread Loaf, it was a delightful treat. Asaba also had a well-known food market.

Years later, Asaba would become a state capital and have hotels, joints and government buildings. This is special. I am still waiting for my village to get an upgrade to a town, and then become a capital, so I can become its first Mayor.

You no try at all...

  • Presido Goodluck appointed his ministers and special advisers, and now I feel as mad as Chris Tucker did in Rush Hour Part 2, when the comedian accused the owners of a casino of being racist because no black singers were featured. Our president does not send youngsters at all. Barak Obama’s Director of Speechwriting, a chap called Jon Favreau is actually a 30 year old who graduated in 2003. Yes, those  famous “Hope” speeches of 2008 were actually drafted by a Caucasian youngster. Why won’t GEJ appoint young professionals to government positions? Why can’t President Goodluck appoint someone like Esco to write his speeches or addresses to the nation? I would have the whole country in stitches. Some parts of the speech would be written in pidgin English and I would throw in a few expletives and Igbo idiomatic expressions. Besides how come NYSC still hasn’t been scrapped despite unrests in certain parts of the country? Is the Nigerian youngster on a path to career and physical extinction? I know NYSC allowee (annoying term for ‘allowance’) has been recently increased. Where else in the world, but mighty Nigeria would your government pay you twice as much to risk dying?
  • Its 2011 and there are Nigerian artists and ‘civilians’ still rocking a mohawk hair-cut. I normally do not comment on people’s style choices, unless they are standing next to me for a photograph or standing in for me in a representative capacity, or if there is business involved and I could lose a fortune if they dressed like Bjork or that guy in Tyler Perry’s Meet The Browns TV series. Please, please, if you are fortunate not to be a baldy or a slap-head, do not try to look like The Last of the Mohicans. In Yankee, rocking a mohawk makes you look rebellious and fashion forward; here in Nigeria, it makes you look like people in your village have sworn for you, or that you are on the first notch to catching craze. Some people may even feel sorry for you when they see you in a mohawk, by shaking their heads and cursing your misfortune, and thinking that NEPA must have taken light while the barber was still cutting your hair. Yep, mohawks make you look irresponsible, and apart from that they do not flatter the ogo. In fact unless, you are Mr. Tee from the A-Team, leave it for the red Indians. As Mr. Tee would say “Be cool, fool!”

Enter-scare-ment (by A.D. of “Memoirs of a Good Naija Gurl”)

Let me start by saying I’m a very patriotic Nigerian, as patriotic as ‘patriotic’ can be (except I don’t watch NFL); in fact green and white runs through my veins.

With that said, I think I can begin.

I do not understand what the standard for entertainment is in Naija anymore, especially in music and movies. The other day I was listening to a radio station (the only radio station that would never play foreign tracks) and all of a sudden, I heard a song………..no a number……….no a rendition.


It sha had beats and someone was singing, it sounded very familiar. Oh My God, it was…….Oleku in……wait for it……Hausa! Chei, I couldn’t help the weird expression on my face. Like…….seriously, the dude translated the whooole thing, like we translate English worship songs to our dialect, the only difference was where he spoke in English, sorry sang in perfect English ‘tell me something that I cannot do’, I  guess the Yaro must have thought he did something different, I mean he sang in English but Ice Prince sang in pidgin!


Come on, where’s the ingenuity? I thought the copy-copy act was only for foreign songs, now we have to hear different dialect translations for songs that already sound mass produced and baseless, or completely copy the few good ones, I won’t be surprised if soon we hear Naeto C’s Ten over Ten in Efik or M.I’s African rapper in Idoma………..hey don’t even think about doing what I just said, it’s so not a good idea.


Another troubling duo is Peter and Paul – please don’t crucify me yet, I’m not criticizing their style or anything oh, It just bothers me that in all their lyrics, they have to die for their love interest, I mean, if I were to count, P-square has outlived a cat! If dem die for the babe, how dem go no say the babe don gree?

To digress a little, I remember when Bruno Mars released the hit ‘Grenade’. I’m not into the secular industry, but I listened to the lyrics till the end and I just had to laugh. How will you jump in front of a train for me and take bullet for me and even catch grenade for humble moi and still ask me if I’ll do the same for you………..dude, how now, you are already dead!


I remember Christina Aguilera muddling up the words to the American anthem during Super Bowl 2011 ceremonies; all I could think of was imagine if Terry G was asked to sing the Nigerian national anthem before a national engagement with the president in attendance. He would start with ‘Arise O Corpation…’ and replace Nigeria with ‘Naija”. Former Information Minister Dora ‘the explorer’ Akinluyi boss would have been swallowing hard wherever she was.


Now to the movie industry…………hmmmn, Nollywood I hail oh, I must commend your good works and efforts, but sometimes una no just dey try, una dey fall my hand. I remember watching a movie, I wish I can remember the name so you can see it for yourself.  In the movie, Kenneth Okoronkwo was Ngozi Ezeonu’s son. I swear I’m not kidding and the funny thing was that no make-up was even done to at least make Andy look younger. That one I might even pardon small-small oh, but the one that vexes me so much it makes me laugh is when we can still see a member of the crew or any equipment while watching (speaker or camera track or cameraman) or audibly hear the director giving instructions, all this we still find on a supposedly edited and final copy.


I remember a movie where Mikey (Micheal Ezuronye) was being chased and he had to scale a fence and he did, but after the jump, the next thing we heard was, ‘heee, e wound, Mike you wound’, Ehen, e no wound, flesh just comot him body small. There’s always an issue with sound, it’s either the background music is just overshadowing the actors voices or there’s no music at all and I can still hear the director barking at his crew.


I know the young shall grow, but Nollywood should be a teenager by now, abi don’t you think so.



Yours………..forever Nigerian



Humble Beginnings (by A.D.) (Memoirs Of a Good Naija Gurl)

Let us talk about the good ol’ days……You know, I’m not that old, but the world today is so advanced, so complex you just miss the good old days, sometimes I kinda……pity….yea pity the upcoming generation….

I mean, where’s the joy of using a multi-tasking touch screen phone with 3G without having used a blue and black screened phone with torch(light) and an FM radio as luxury…..

Show me the joy in sitting in your smooth A.C tight ride without having had to leave a huge amount of change for the conductor who was even rude to you by the way……

Ladies what is the joy in using Marc, Iman, Jordana or even Sleek without having patronized that mallam’s wonderful ‘brawn powder’ that was just 1 shade and will leave you looking more ridiculous than that woman on the Geisha tin.

I mean, how would you even really appreciate HDMI or HDTV if you never had to guess the color of the ranger on a television or had to hit the back of your TV to make it clear – ah the good ol’ days.

You can keep your Wi-Fi and fancy DSTV and HiTV connections, I am riding with using a metal hanger as an antenna.

How will they really understand and appreciate the silent engine sound of the Hondas and Toyotas, they never met a 244 GL Volvo!

My younger cousins will never understand why I smile when I press a button and the car window winds down; they never met good ol’ WINDER (detachable or fixed). The ones on the Peugeot 504 and 505 definitely became detachable after a while, until you were using one winder for all 4 windows.

They won’t appreciate the simplicity of the car mp3 player, they never had to stay awake the night before Christmas journey to the village rolling and re-rolling all the cassette players. (Yeah, you know them the Panam Percy Paul and Acapellas and Nkwa praise). Boney M too!

I really hope they will still understand the genre system of music when artistes of today are confused on the kind of music they want to sing; you hear stuff like “I sing ‘Afrofuji-rock-hiphop-jazz’…………hmmm, like say na Timberland get fuji. By the way, Eedris Abdulkareem’s babble is a genre of its own. Who has also heard that Shan George jam?

You would never appreciate the ingenuity cup holders in your car if you never had to put your Fanta Chapman between your legs and secure its content by using your hand when the driver is on a bumpy road.

In this era of dual citizenship of Nigerian-Peruvian or Nigerian-Brazilian females, I hope the culture of counting ‘rich poor beggar thief’ on our braided hair doesn’t die!

In this ‘microwave generation’ I hope it doesn’t turn out to be cloudy with a chance of meatballs, Like no-one should blame wives of tomorrow who can’t cook jack when they didn’t play mummy and daddy and prepare pretend soup with leaves and eba with clay. Or even settle pretend fights with the pretend husband.

I don’t think we should complain about adding weight when little ways of daily exercise like the stairs are being replaced by elevators and escalators (even in 3 or 4 storey buildings) .

It all seems like funny stuff but, how would we appreciate this good life that we all crave when we don’t take the time to ‘enjoy’ the humble beginnings.

Yours….…from the past


When Is Enough Really Enough? – (a reply by Munira)

Trying cheating on me and see...

I came across an article on Bella Naija written by Glory Edozien asking the above. It was an open ended article that put the question of infidelity to the readers, asking at what point they would walk away from such situations. It inspired me to write a rejoinder as regards relationships and the not too savory that come with it, the abuse (emotional and physical), the infidelities, the scars, the trials etc.

When does enough become enough for the ‘victims’?  When does it become okay to walk away from these situations?

I wish it was cut and dried, black and white and not all patchy grey. I wish there was a manual we can consult that lets us know what to say in every situation, how to react to every action, even maybe going as far as to tell us how to pre-empt actions and how to counter them before they come.

It isn’t so easy, such doesn’t exist. Instead we are left with this treacherous heart of ours that doesn’t really make the best of decisions but that we still have to live with.

There have been cases of battery gone wrong resulting in death of either the victim or the batterer(self-defence) and sometimes the victim ends up going to jail for manslaughter. This is certainly a sad scenario, but what to do? Do we say, she shouldn’t pay for her crimes (of murder, because even though he was a batterer, he is human first and his right to life has been violated by her)?  Do we say that she leaves before it gets to that stage? If you haven’t been there before, they will tell you it isn’t easy to leave (whatever that may mean). We the “holier than thou crew’ might spew holistic comments like ‘its always easy’, ‘if you are strong enough you would move on’, ‘she needs to leave his ass already’, I mean, I wouldn’t lie, I used to say these things, but now, I would say you never know until you know.


We all are a victim of it, directly or indirectly. Everyone has witnessed this in some form in their life, as part of familial relationships, romantic relationships; even friendships have their own form of infidelities (cheating to you).

The most hurtful as seen by people’s reaction would be the one that occurs in romantic relationships.  The man cheating. The woman cheating. It all hurts the party at the receiving end. Their reaction to this is what is in contest in this note. How do we react to cheating? When is enough really enough?

What with the sludge of infidelities being recorded by all and sundry from the average man to the powerful, the popular, Tiger WoodsJesse James, the IMF boss, Arnold Swarzzy, etc and more to come.  The women become victims of these men and their desires and the inability to control themselves. When then can these women say enough is enough? And not just these women, but every woman in this position, when is enough really enough? The first time? Second? Never?

We young people unanimously agree to walk out of any marriage that includes a cheating husband because this isn’t what we signed up for. It’s sadly more complicated than that.  How many marriages then are you going to walk out of? In the pool of people of this world that are men, how many would never cheat on a significant other? Of that population, what is the probability of you meeting one of them and marrying them? You do the math, don’t worry, I’ll wait…

My take on this issue is simple; enough is enough from the first time it happens and/or according to the elasticity of the heart of the person at the receiving end. Your reaction to the situation is what actualizes this ‘enough’ position. Do you move on without the man? Do you forgive him?  I say the afore-mentioned options are one and the same, we claim to move on, but we move on with the scars left by that man and it affects the next man because we strongly believe in once bitten, twice shy…  also when we forgive, do we truly forgive, or is it repression? Because I have seen cases of when this so-called forgiveness occurs and the moment another ‘moment of indiscretion’ occurs, old hurts come to fore and are reiterated … I thought the phrase was ‘forgive and forget’?

Like I said, I wish it was so easy to actually give a step by step account of how to deal with these issues. It isn’t. And some will continue to deal with them, not because they deserve to, but because the man they are with don’t deserve them, and they are already too jaded to not believe that the next man wouldn’t act the same way, which might be entirely true(or not).

You never know until you know, so when is enough really enough?

* Article by Munira

20 Grand

Oops, I forgot the 'O' at the end

Wow, this blog has had over 20,000 hits since we started in September of 2010. I am as proud as  a dad who is watching his little infant take baby steps. I started this blog because I felt I had a point of view I needed to get out there. I never ever expected to do Bellanaija numbers – I just wanted Nigerians everywhere to listen to what I had to say. No disrespect to other blogs doing their thing  but if everyone concentrated on fashion and entertainment to the detriment of other issues in Nigeria, we would all soon become a land of well-dressed, partying zombies. Let’s not party and bullshit forever, huh?

The nominations for various categories for Nigerian Blog Awards (www.nigerianblogawards.com) would start on May 30th. On that day, nominations will begin on the various categories. I will also advise that you visit that site and have a breeze-through – there are some really awesome blogs there. My blog is listed as Literati: Satires On Nigerian Life (just under Linda Ikeji). Tell your friends, tell your brother, send a telegram.

Following 20,000 hits, plans are in the works to improve this blog to make it an even better reading experience for you.  Following any expansions, there will be readers who would be designated L.A.I.S.O.Ns (Literati Satires On Nigerian life agents). They would be able to post up articles on original Nigerian content as far as it is not socially or morally repugnant.

I want to thank every single one of my readers for your awesome show of support. And I mean that. Every single 20,000 of you. Or 10,000 of you who visited twice or even if there are just 10 of you who visited 2,000 times.