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The Surprise

So in honour of Short Story Day, I decided to scribble something that had been clawing at my brain down. The story is actually imperfect, wrote it on the bus, but I’d appreciate comments on the quality and maybe a little discussion around some of the issues raised.
Here goes.

Your alarm rings. 3:30 am. It is time. You have effectively planned this surprise such that it would be fresh enough for your parents. Their flight from New York is scheduled to land Lagos at 4am. It would take them an hour to get to your family’s Lekki mansion. By 5, the surprise would be perfect. Audu, the maiguard is definitely still asleep and the neighbours are still clinging to whatever precious hours of sleep they have left.
You turn to your right, pick your towel. Everything had been properly laid out yesterday. You learnt how to prepare for the next day from those 4 weeks of counselling you took at uni. It was your first and only girlfriend- Jane who had recommended you see a counsellor. Your erratic behaviour was worrying her. After four weeks of counselling, the counsellor told you you were depressed and showing signs of anxiety disorder. She recommended that you see a better qualified therapist. You laughed.
3:45, you get up and walk somberly to the bathroom. The same manner in which you walked to your parent’s room the night you went to ask them for money, as you could not afford to pay for a specialist. Your father laughed and said:
“I’m a trained medical professional, Bobby; you can’t swindle me out of my money. If you’re depressed, I’d see the signs and tell you myself. You have nothing, absolutely nothing to be depressed about. Your family’s amazing, we support you, we provide for you. What of those orphans under the bridge. As for your claims of anxiety, you’ve always been very shy. Don’t worry, as soon as you get out of uni, I would personally work on that. Bobby, I was once a rascal like you oh. You can’t cheat a cheat.”
Your mum just looked at you and said “I’m going for Power must change hands tomorrow, come with me, you’ll be delivered”
Its not like you hadn’t expected it but it had hit you with so much venom, you never recovered from that blow.
4:10, that was a long shower. You have to ensure that every part of your body is clean and sparkling for the surprise. Jane had once told you she couldn’t hug you because you smelled after you gave her a gift on a birthday. None of that would be happening today.
4:15. You massage your skin with your mum’s strawberry body butter, the one she guarded like a hawk. *shrug* today is special. You wear the specially selected outfit for today- crisp white shirt, black trousers and the black skinny tie Jane bought you years ago that you simply couldn’t let go of. Baba Bobby would be proud, you were going to become a lawyer anyways.
4:30. Time is flying, but you are on schedule. You sit and write the note that would accompany the surprise. You explain to everyone why you are getting them this surprise, especially your friends who have played therapist one too many times; and Jane. Jane who had drawn your eyes to the problem, Jane who you had broken up with because she truly, truly deserved better.
4:42. Three minutes more. You place the stool in the appropriate place, step on it and put your neck through the loop in the rope. Yeah, none of that overdosing or bleeding for you. You can not take chances.
4:45. Your alarm rings. Game time. You kick the stool.
5:00am. You hear the cock crow. You smile through the pain. You breathe one last heavy breath.
5:35. Mr. and Mrs. Odufale find their surprise.

Me, Honestly…


Ever since Panda planted the idea of writing my own version of an ‘honest thing’, I’ve been scared. Scared because I’ve never been good at directly telling my own story or things about me. Well I decided to take the plunge. Here goes…


I was born on the 6th of May, which should make me a Taurus. My parents say they were really excited to have me as they had been trying for a baby for a while.

It rained for three days after I was born. I love rain. A lot. Partly because I can cry freely under the rain without being asked why I’m crying. I cry more than I should.

I am 5 feet and no inches tall, bespectacled and I don’t know how much I currently weigh. I’m almost as dark as amala and I walk with a bounce that got me the nickname ‘smallboy’ in secondary school. People say I have intense eyes, that I can drill a hole in a person’s soul just by staring at said person. I guess I’ll never know how true it is.

I relate things in my present with things that happened in my past randomly. For example, I relate the fact that I act differently with different people with the fact that I have over 25 names. I don’t remember all of them so don’t ask.

I am a scientist by profession and association. I spend almost all of my time genetically altering microorganisms to produce plastics. This gives me a sense of pride and a false notion that I can fix anything.

I make a hobby out of people watching and eavesdropping snippets of conversations. I like making up stories about people or making them live out my life for me. Nothing excites me more than finishing conversations in my head or randomly giving people histories. This is also why I write. Every character I write about has an affiliation with an aspect of my life.

I am a story teller. I live my life like it is a story that I would tell to someone someday. I try not to do things that would not make for interesting stories sometime in the future.  Almost everything I own has a special memory attached to it. I love the look on people’s faces when I give them a tour of my room telling them the stories attached to everything in it. Whenever I lose anything, it feels like I have lost a close family member.

I listen to music for two reasons- to connect with something and to dance. So I will listen to any song that gives me either of the two. It is very common to find me crying while listening to a song just because I can relate to what is being sung.

I have spent the past one year trying to convince myself that I’m someone worthy of love. I’m attracted to sharp thinking, tall and easy-to-look at men. The problem is most of the men I’m attracted to are often damaged and I set about fixing them. I forget that most of them don’t even want to be fixed.

I have a very sensitive digestive system, so I either stay away from food or I stick to tried and tested food. I am not adventurous. This slips into my daily choices as well. I would rather wear what I’m sure looks good than try to be adventurous with what I wear.

Crowds or groups of people more than two scare me, so I’m never one to step up and assume a leadership role anywhere. I would much rather be the special assistant to the president than be the president.

I feel most comfortable in the midst of kids or in libraries. With kids I can just be myself and not be scared of being tagged ‘weird’ or ‘boring’; in libraries, I can escape to other worlds and not have to be myself.

Hi I’m Moyin, I am the shyest person I know, I keep a ring collection and I would like to live in a hug. Would you be my friend?




Free Verse

Well, hello guys, this is NerdyChique sneaking behind Panda to give you guys something I jostled up today. Please be kind and leave comments. I’m getting back in the groove gradually. 

Also, I think Panda may have a few surprises up his sleeve in the coming weeks. Be on the look out. 

So, here goes. 

#np- ‘Sunday Morning’ ~Maroon 5


You know how people say someone is easy like Sunday morning? I’ve always wondered, what is easy about Sunday? And what especially makes Sunday mornings easier than any other mornings in the week. Maybe because for me, Sunday mornings have been either of two extremes, but never easy. See its either I’m rushing off to church on a Sunday morning or I’m nursing a headache the size of Nigeria. So Sundays have never been easy. NEVER.

How shall I compare thee to a mere day of the week my darling?

You’re like a Monday morning, the hope and freshness you bring are sometimes annoying.

You’re like my weekly Tuesday hangouts with the crew. Constant. Relaxing.

Or shall I liken thee to a Wednesday afternoon, to which I have become accustomed? I know the exact words to say and the right steps to take at every second and minute.

Our passion is very much like a Thursday night at the bar, quietly screaming ‘its Friday tomorrow, its Friday tomorrow’. The anticipation reminding me of the build-up to meeting up with you, the passion building up in my loins months and months before we’re even sure of when we’ll meet up.

Then I think maybe you’re more like leaving the office on a Friday, exchanging my work shoes for my six inch stilettos. You excite me beyond compare. And like Friday nights in Soho, you dizzy me.

Being with you is like lying in my memory mattress on a Saturday morning, watching TV. Its comfortable, all our parts fit like a perfectly sized glove, remembering what we do to each other. And all of a sudden, its like brunch with the girls- full of laughter, exciting, informative and wild. Sometimes, its like the occasional date night, spontaneous, fun, steamy.

And then your presence is like the famous Sunday morning, healing, calming, rejuvenating. Oh, and you’re much like Church on Sunday. Inspirational, beautiful and exciting.

But having you here with me feels like a much awaited bank holiday. Long expected, everything I expected it would be and even more, and hard to recover from.

Shall I compare thee to a mere day of the week? No. You, my darling are more intense than that. And I love you.


Your Sunday morning. 

Midnight Musings

And when the ink dries… and the pages turn to dust, so will we return to dust…
Knowledge is power… but power can be more of a burden than a blessing.
I gained a bit of power today that hurt a lot… Stuff that I’d never have wanted to know… I wish I didn’t…
But then I always knew… I always suspected…
I hate the fact that I can be very intuitive, but then never do anything for fear that I’m just being arrogant, or taking things too seriously.
I hate the fact that I give power to people and then they hurt me. So I live my life constantly guarded … knowing that as strong as I am, I can feel pain, and so I choose not to feel anything.
Monday and Tuesday made me realize that I’m as human as everyone else… I can feel fear and panic. But picking myself up and realizing that it was time to man up, both gladdened and depressed me at the same time…
Rationality is something I’ve been given in excess, but even with all that rationality, there are still so many chinks in my armor… Some days I go from feeling like shit…worse than nothing, to knowing that I’m beyond the scope of many, to detesting myself for being so damn cocky and egotistical…

And the gates come crashing down.

I’m going to sleep

Posted from WordPress for Android


Hi guys,

I’m supposed to be standing in for Panda, but I have done a poor job ( I actually couldn’t figure out how to use the invite Panda sent me, I’m poor with computers like that).
Anyways, I have it all figured out now.
This is a mini-poem I wrote in response to Panda’s last post. I have asked NerdyChique to please tag you all on twitter. I haven’t made it down there.
Please enjoy.

That’s the number of times I thought about ending my life
One is the number of times I actually tried.
Is the number of times you talked me out of it.
So you can’t blame me for falling in love with you.
That’s the number of months I waited.
After I one, two, three, four,
Fell head first, heart following very quickly in love with you.
I tried to tell you three times.
But how could i?
That was never our arrangement.
Our arrangement did not include insurance for a broken heart.
No policies to prevent us developing a friendship,
And me falling.
But you did fall.
Just not in love with me.
This much you told me
When I eventually told of how deeply I’d fallen.
“A man must only give that which he has in his possession. Anything else would simply be a desperate pretense at capability and an insult to the one who would receive it.”
Are the pieces my heart has broken into
And I have become this monster
Who collects hearts as well.
To be forewarned is to be forearmed.
Never should have caught any feelings.
How do I get over the reason I’m alive.
My heart, it’s been punctured with sticks.
I should hate you but I absolutely cannot.
So here’s wishing you have a good life
And all of that.
Still in love with you,
The one that could have been.

P.S: Happy birthday in arrears Panda, we love you!

>A Step In The Right Direction



So, I finally submitted my proposal to my professor this morning…

After all my yarns about finishing it on time and all that shit, I still wasn’t done with it by yesterday morning. Imagine the shock and horror I felt when I walked into class yesterday morning, and I saw my professor standing right there… the man had been outta town for two weeks, cos his elder brother died. So he ran out. That was what had been saving me cos I know that if he’d been around, I’d have gotten a good tongue lashing or two for not having it ready.

And the truth is that I’d have deserved it. I spent the entire weekend in Gidi, getting up to some good old nefarious activities, and pursuing carefree hedonism (all that is simply big English to say that I spent the entire weekend catching trips) and my back has the scars to prove it.

Anyways, so I show up to class, and he’s there. So at the end of the class I mumble some story about not knowing that he’d be around, and I’d have it printed and on his desk by 11am the next morning.

Needless to say, I was gonna be awake quite late trying to finish up. So, I worked late, mixed up with late night, long chats with one cute lil’ thing that I’ve been chatting with recently (quite a charming girl…pity I’m not accepting relationship applications for now), and I finished my proposal sometime around 3am…

I turned it in, half expecting him to send me back. But then, he starts reading, and he’s nodding, making a few adjustments here and there, and then he goes “this is very good. You can move on to chapter 1.”


So, after a quite interesting weekend, and this….I’m as happy as a puppy with two tails….

Big ups to Shawty, Khems and Le Beau for being so encouraging…I totally appreciate it…

Anyways…I just felt like cranking out a lil something…I have a couple of things I’m trying to write about. One’s called “Female Mythology”. It’s about Nigerian women and the misconception they have about Nigerian men…the other…I don’t know what it’s called yet. I don’t even know if it’s prose or poetry…all I know is that it’s quite angry, and it’s about Nigeria… I might even write about the scare I got this weekend…

Gotta go now…I’ve got a class…

Peace, love and soul.

>Taking a Break from Work


YES! I know I have work to do, and this is quite an odd hour to be talking about music, but I’m too tired to do anything else, so I may as well be a bit constructive…abi???

So I’ve been listening to music. Yep…quite a few Nigerian artistes have caught my eye recently… Kas, Ms. Con.tra.Diction (I hope I spelt that right), Show Dem Camp, Airis….and quite a few other people. But, I’m gonna talk about Airis, Show Dem Camp, & Con.tra.Diction. Cos they’ve really impressed me recently.

Ladies first, so lemme start with Airis.

First off, lemme state that Airis is a very hot, half Nigerian, half Egyptian woman, so my judgment may be thrown off a bit by that fact that she’s so hot, but I doubt it. When I first heard about her, I thought she was gonna be another good looking woman who imagined that her fine face would make everyone partially deaf so we wouldn’t realize that her voice was a waste of time (especially with the way her debut single “Without You” kicked off).

Was I ever wrong.

She has a voice that reminds me of a person that spent a lot of time listening to Sade Adu, Madonna, and other legendary pop divas, but somehow or the other found time to listen to Yoruba songs when she was younger; producing this really sexily blended voice that is obviously international, but still manages to be Nigerian. Kinda like a girl who you can take to a big dinner with international guests and all, and then the next day you take her to see your grandma in your village, and she blends into both situations very well. Kinda like that.

Her debut single, “Without You” is really cool. Her voice comes off really well over the instrumental, accentuated quite well by the tambourines and drums. The tambourines gave the song a little Arabian/Egyptian feel to it, which is just as well since she’s half Egyptian anyways. A part of the chorus is in Yoruba, which just made me fall in love with her singing even more. I also heard another of her songs called “Sick in Love” featuring Ice Prince, and “Fly Away” which I liked as well, but in all honesty, not as much as I like Without You… I hear her album “The AiRis Project” is scheduled for release in November. That isn’t too far off, so I won’t die waiting.

Onto some people that are a little more recent in terms of emergence, let’s talk about Show Dem Camp (SDC).

Now, the first song I heard from these guys, was this crazy song featuring Lynxx called “You Dey Crase”. I heard that, & I thought to myself “we may have something good here”…really cool, mixtape kinda jam. Punchlines flying left & right…& Lynxx killed his verse. I was happy. Then I heard “Farabale”. Lemme be honest, I didn’t really dig the first dude’s rap, but I LOVE THE SONG!!!! I really don’t know how to analyze it…the chorus reflected the way a lot of naija boys feel about chics who are just gold-diggers, and MayD has quite a good voice. I really think these guys are definitely gonna go places.

By the way, the tees they’re wearing in this picture are from my cousin Tenne Fatona’s clothing line DNA Genes, so big ups to him! Whoop whoop!!! (I digressed abi???)

If you haven’t heard “Farabale” by Show Dem Camp feat MayD, here’s a link for it.

Let’s go with Con.tra.Diction now…

First off, I’ve met her quite a few times, with those crazy ass socks she always wears, & I have to say, she’s a darling psycho. I heard her song “Superstar”, & my faith in the hope for alternative music in Nigeria was renewed. The instruments were on point, and her voice gives off that rock chic thing that rock lovers (such as me) really like. Throwing in a bit of Yoruba into the song (Oju l’oro wa) was a fantastic way of making sure we didn’t forget that it was a Nigerian tune. All in all, a fabulous song! Con.tra.Diction seems like someone we’re gonna be hearing quite a lot from in the future… In the intro to the song, if you listen to the voice in the background, you can hear her say “this is the diary, of a mad black woman.” I hope that’s gonna be the title of the album…seems quite befitting…

I hear she even has a band!!! That’s just really cool. If I ever decided to sing publicly (yes, your Panda has a good voice) I’d definitely love to jam up with her…

Of course, here’s a link for Con.tra.Diction’s “Superstar” if you don’t already have it…

So, these are the artistes I’m loving right now…hope their albums are as banging as the singles they have out… Fingers crossed!

Gotta go now! I’m a bit swamped with work so…. I’ll blog later okay???


>October 13.


Today, as we spoke over the phone, I could almost see you staring at me with those big brown eyes that I always felt I could dive into without even having to try.

You promised you would try. You said today was the last time you’d do anything to bring a tear to this grown man’s eye.

Today as we spoke, I could hear the sound of your voice so sincere. You promised me you’d always be there

The way you felt was deeper than simply saying that you cared.

You loved me as big as the sky; you loved me to the moon.

Today was a year ago. You left me two months before the end of June.

But this poem isn’t meant to point fingers, or say you broke my heart.

This poem is an ode to a relationship we thought would never fall apart.

This poem is a testament to the fact that we couldn’t test what wasn’t meant to be.

You see, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, it’s bound to end in catastrophe.

We may have been an unlikely pair, but we loved each other, you and I.

You loved my big belly; I loved your nappy hair.

I loved the taste of your lips, like the taste of sugar sprinkled all over a juicy pear.

Together we were always meant to be, and the idea of you without me was something we couldn’t bear to see, let alone handle.

Our love was impossible to hide, like putting under a bed a lit candle.

We were meant to be forever, but forever moved faster than we expected. Fast forwarding us to a point where we could love no more,

And the hope for a future had been turned to us glancing at the past, reminiscing on those days…

Forever fast forwarded us……into today.

>The Need For Knowledge


So, it’s the 18th of September, 2010. This is officially the last weekend I’m supposed to spend in Lagos until Uni closes for Christmas in December. Of course you & I know that is completely impossible, & I’ll be back in Lagos as soon as something of interest calls out to me. But that sort of information doesn’t really need to be available to everybody now does it.

And it’s funny I should say that, because the idea of me concealing information, brings to mind a blog post by Le Beau, where he talked about the strength of information being in the measure & fidelity of it. That actually makes quite a bit of sense. And in truth, information is concealed by different people from people, for a whole mixed up set of reasons. And I’m in no position to judge anyone, because here I am, not telling my dad that from time to time, I may just leave school and come into Gidi to hang out with my boys, or to liaise with some cute girl or the other, or for whatever reason.

So why do people hold back information from each other? To maintain some form of peace of mind? Because of course there’s always that old saying “what you don’t know won’t hurt you.” How many of us actually believe that? And what gives any human being the right to decide how much we should know? Human judgment is, most times, quite deficient. And so the choice to keep knowledge from a person may just be an act of unkindness. Example?? Back in the medieval age, the commoners didn’t know how to read. They had to live their lives from day to day without the information that would have been able to set them free from bondage, and create a more egalitarian society. At that time, the nobility claimed that it was for “their own good”, but of course, we know now that it was simply a way to maintain control over the masses. Ignorance is in truth an open prison.

That being said, if ignorance is an open prison, and the truth supposedly sets you free, then that should mean that everyone is in some form of prison or the other, because at every given point in time, someone, somewhere, is keeping some information from you. For whatever reason it may be.

My dad & I had a bit of an argument yesterday. I told him, that since I got home 3 months ago, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. He says to me that I should go and check myself then, to “reflect & find” what I’m doing wrong. I asked him, why he doesn’t simply tell me what it is I’m doing wrong, & I can sort myself out faster that way. But for reasons best known to him, he decides to leave me in the dark, in this prison of ignorance where I keep messing up & he keeps getting pissed off…

Personally, I wanna know as much as possible. I wanna learn all there is to learn. I wanna know what the real is. Knowledge and experiences are what differentiate me from the next person. So, like Colin Firth said in Dorian Gray, sometimes, it’s just about the next experience…the next sensation. The next thing that I didn’t know. Thanks to an ex girlfriend, I’ve developed an even more over active desire for knowing the truth. Even when I know that it may not necessarily do me the least bit of good. But well…it’s just one of those things…

>Just talking…


So…there isn’t a particular theme, yet again. I just feel like talking. You don’t even have to read it.

Insomnia has kicked in full throttle again tonight, so all I can do is sit and think about all the stuff that’s happened in the last few days.

I went for this artsy kinda show in VI on Sunday called “Chill & Relax”. It was quite a bit of fun. My man The Perv Nerd did a real funny piece on “Just Saying”, and some dude who’s name I have not the foggiest memory of, did a real beautiful piece called “Hope is a Nigerian”. Now that was a really good poem.

I, for the first time ever, read out one of my pieces in public. I did “My Pen Forsakes Me”. I hoped they liked it sha… anyways, after I did that poem, I kinda started thinking about someone that used to be my friend. We were…so close at some point, & in truth, she was the one who pushed me to write. She always wanted me to write more…and there were times when we’d be awake till God knows what time, just reading stuff to each other. But then, we both got into uni and….drifted away from each other. Anyways, after reading that poem, I realized that I didn’t want her to not be a part of my life anymore. There are some friends that should never be lost and for me, she’s one of those. So I called her. And told her everything that was on my mind. I basically asked if we could be friends again…I wonder how that’s gonna turn out.

Somewhere along the line, I asked her to tell me something totally random that had changed in the last 3 years, & she told me she’d left her boyfriend…that’s a story for another time…when she asked me the same question, I told her “I don’t love Love anymore. I used to complain that Love didn’t love me…but Love showed up. She brought someone, & showed me love. But Love hurt me. Real bad. & now, I don’t love Love anymore.” I didn’t understand how true & heavy what I said was but…now I do…and it’s true. But…I won’t expound on that sorta sadness…won’t help anyone.

Anyways, carried a cake to one of my dad’s peoples today…*sigh* the smell of the chocolate was just…way too tempting! Now I want cake…anyone feel like donating 4k to my life??? *sigh*…must have chocolate cake with fudge icing….must…have…

Aahh….I feel sleep calling now….in your face Insomnia, you cruel, demanding mistress…lol…