I am sad, nothing will ever be the same again! The state's Zeus broke my heart with his proclamation that all fairy god-brothers be removed from the land! The effect of this proclamation has been devastating especially to hapless humans like myself!
I recall with a heavy heart, the mornings when I leave home for work and I'm running late; one of these magical beings stops in front of me and a smile splits the face I see through the helmet "auntie where you dey go?" he'll accompany the question with gesticulations with his wool gloved hand. I hop on while he waves his magic wand and off we go! We weave in and out of the 3rd mainland bridge 8am traffic and I'm not late! I'm even 7 minutes early, so I reward my fairy god-brother with a small token of appreciation;a N500 coin.
Many times, on different occasions these wonderful beings have been most helpful in helping you to quickly get to your destination.
I admit that sometimes,the thrill of the journey and the promise of the gold coin reward have gotten them overly excited that they have flung many passengers on the asphalt road but so have their grumpy counterparts that drive the four wheel wagons!
Today, I sat in the iyana-ipaja traffic and I did not get to work until 9:20am.I looked around frantically for them but not one was in sight. Sigh...tell me how am I going to survive without my fairy god-brothers?
Monday, 5 November 2012
Monday, 24 September 2012
job hunt
I'm staring at the air conditioning vents and i see the wisps of vapor snaking out. Its supposed to be cold, very cold but i can feel beads of sweat trickling down my back and soaking into my shirt. My palms are clammy and my hands tremble as i constantly straighten every crease on my skirt, like the smoothness of it is supposed to contribute to the overall grading.
I am praying that nothing more would go wrong,I had already pulled a rather interesting entrance when came in for the interview. I took an okada to the venue of the interview and i was in such a rush to make it early that i overpaid the man and ran into the premises with his helmet securely strapped to my head!
At first,I did not understand why the female interviewer had mirth dancing in her eyes,man in suit beside her didin't ask any questions but he struggled to keep a serious composure,i kept asking myself, am i speaking proper English? Am i so tense that i sound correct to my own ears but i'm actually making blunders ? It wasn't until i was on my way out that i caught a reflection of myself on the silver doorknob. For about ten seconds my hand hung midway as i suddenly understood the reason for their trying-so-hard- to-be-serious faces, i did look ridiculous.
Anyway, i have done the interview and here i am waiting for the verdict. My eyes go up once again and i look at the gold plate on the big polished wooden door that read;Boardroom.
Suddenly a loud ring went off on the secretary's table. It was her intercom. ''Yes sir, i'll tell her''.She says when she picked the phone. She lifts up her head and looks at me. At that moment, my heart slams so hard in my chest that i whimper. I have an intense and almost irresistable urge to use the convenience.
"Please you may now go in'' she says to me with a smile. I try to use my legs as i pushed my body weight on them. My knees wobble and i suddenly wish i had come in more sensible shoes. I take shaky steps towards the door with the gold plate that read Boardroom and i hold the door handle. Deep breaths i tell myself. I hear that it helps to count and take deep breaths..so i count ''1(deep breath)..2..(deep breath) then i turned the door knob and stand face to face with fifteen very distinguished and intimidating looking board members. ‘Miss Abodurin have a seat’, a burly man in an expensive looking suit says………… ....
I am praying that nothing more would go wrong,I had already pulled a rather interesting entrance when came in for the interview. I took an okada to the venue of the interview and i was in such a rush to make it early that i overpaid the man and ran into the premises with his helmet securely strapped to my head!
At first,I did not understand why the female interviewer had mirth dancing in her eyes,man in suit beside her didin't ask any questions but he struggled to keep a serious composure,i kept asking myself, am i speaking proper English? Am i so tense that i sound correct to my own ears but i'm actually making blunders ? It wasn't until i was on my way out that i caught a reflection of myself on the silver doorknob. For about ten seconds my hand hung midway as i suddenly understood the reason for their trying-so-hard- to-be-serious faces, i did look ridiculous.
Anyway, i have done the interview and here i am waiting for the verdict. My eyes go up once again and i look at the gold plate on the big polished wooden door that read;Boardroom.
Suddenly a loud ring went off on the secretary's table. It was her intercom. ''Yes sir, i'll tell her''.She says when she picked the phone. She lifts up her head and looks at me. At that moment, my heart slams so hard in my chest that i whimper. I have an intense and almost irresistable urge to use the convenience.
"Please you may now go in'' she says to me with a smile. I try to use my legs as i pushed my body weight on them. My knees wobble and i suddenly wish i had come in more sensible shoes. I take shaky steps towards the door with the gold plate that read Boardroom and i hold the door handle. Deep breaths i tell myself. I hear that it helps to count and take deep breaths..so i count ''1(deep breath)..2..(deep breath) then i turned the door knob and stand face to face with fifteen very distinguished and intimidating looking board members. ‘Miss Abodurin have a seat’, a burly man in an expensive looking suit says………… ....
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
De-Miss-tyfied:Myth 2:Nigerian women love money...
We emphatically state that we do NOT love money,NO! We just love what money can get us. However, we find it quite interesting that men label us..ok boys, we'll explain it to you like this. Andrew Todd..he's the global head of logistics for?...Avon cosmetics! He's even heading distribution for Liz Clairbourne (yeah those expensive but sinfully sexy jeans she asked you to buy on your way back from the U.K.) (Did you know that Dr.Miracle is REALLY a man? I didn't. i thought it was a clever advertising stunt). (Mary Kay Ash is loong dead..God bless her legacy..but her son is the CEO now). You thought Da'Viva was a woman's'idea, right? Wrong! One indian man owns it.. Omai Itafo, yeah even Frank Osodi!(Geniuses) They spend too many nights working on stuff like the perfect finish of hems and feel of that LBD,So that it will be perfect for her Gucci bag( yeah that those two men made, God bless them!) All a girl has to do is flash a smile and say ''sweetheart, i want..''She doesn't even have to finish the sentence,and YOU, jump to do her bidding! So stop getting pissed at her! Rather, arrange to have Bobby(of Surulere's Bobby's) and his contempories arrested for propergating the gospel of human hair and lace wigs ,send warnings to Chris Aire!(Gosh those wristwatches!)Tell him to stop making accessories that we can't resist that you SHALL have to buy(with money that can probably buy a million blocks,5 thousand bags of cement,countless pyramids of gravel and sand that's supposed to build your dream house) for us because we batt 'mascaraed'lashes at you. Tell all these men that you are hapless victims of their marketing strategies... P.S. OK. So maybe you pick the tab sometimes.. We want to let you know that: Women can take care of themselves! We just came to the conclusion that its easier to let you show us how much you love us*wink*wink*.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
MYTH 1: A lot of girls can’t cook(part1)
He hesitantly dug his fingers into the mound of Semovita I set before him. He put the morsel into the vegetable soup and then his hand travelled to his mouth, his lips closed around his fingers, suddenly, his eyes drifted shut. He was a picture of a man that just discovered bliss. A small smile formed on his lips as he chewed slowly. He ate but he didn’t speak, all through the meal, the mysterious smile remained on his face though i didn’t know what to make of it. Was the food tasty or was it bad? But I couldn’t ask him, I wouldn’t dare, it would be tantamount to asking him ‘do you think I can cook? But it had to be good, I could tell; he hadn’t grimaced or gagged and he hadn’t scrambled for the bathroom….yet. Oh yes he loves it! He had to! I spent way too long in that hot room called the kitchen, burnt all of two thousand naira worth of airtime consulting Ditoma on Mumsie’s mobile. I was determined to be my darling Osas’s perfect wife.
Hot light flashed across my eyes every time I swallowed so I had to close them, my ears were hot and ringing because of the amount of pepper, my eyes swam as tears threatened to betray me , my lips quivered from the effort I was making. I really wanted to cry.It was like realising the inviting warm lake that was tempting and you dove into was so shallow as you hit your buttocks hard at the bottom.I longed for my handkerchief but it was in my jacket which I flung on the couch in excitement upon seeing how she set the table, there was nothing I could do, so I sat there and prayed for deliverance.
He bit into the fish and once again his eyes drifted shut as that I-am-loving-this-meal expression came on his face once more. I knew I had succeeded. I didn’t even taste the food, seeing him relish the food so much filled me.
That night, I discovered how much I loved Didi, how much it scared me to hurt her feelings, but I honestly didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to take it before my insides began to protest. I broke off a bit of the large helping of fish cooked in sauce before me, I glanced in her direction, her face slick with sweat, a beatic smile lightening it up, Gosh! she was so beautiful! I knew I had to do it, I had to eat everything on the plate so I chewed on the fish and closed my eyes and prayed some more. I never knew I could pray continuously for that long, I also knew I was muttering things. I carefully plied the plates on one another when I finished eating. I washed my hands and stood up, her eyes were on me,full of questions,those big brown eyes that always made a mess of my usually logical and cordinated thoughts,i couldn't look into them as i made this final decision,so i used the boys old trick ,I opened my arms and enveloped her in an embrace.The power of its double etendre worked so well as it always does, i could see,she smiles a satisfied smile. I continued to mutter to myself and chant some sort of mantra, I still could not make out what I was saying. She waved as I drove away. I glanced at the timer on my dashboard as I drove out of Balogun street. The timer showed that the time was 8:51 p.m. I tried to calculate how long it would take to get to Awolowo way on Ikeja but this was Lagos at night, anything was possible. I continued muttering to myself. Mercifully, the next song cued to play on my radio began as I sighted the florescent illuminated letters of Juli pharmacy. I heard the instrumentals and my heart welled up with hope.It was Whitney Houston's'Hold on,help is on the way'. By this time I could hear what it was I was chanting:
Osa, A is for Antacid, B is for Buscopan, C is for Carnation milk.As soon as i entered the store,I walked briskly as I put all the possible ingredients for my restoration in my cart. I scanned the drugs on display till I saw the final one….ahhh yes, F is for Flagyl.
I did it! Who said i couldn't cook?its just that i am just learning the correct quantity of oil,pepper,salt or seasoning to put together for each cooking; i am also yet to fully grasp when beef is sufficiently soft and ready. But here i am, even in my inadequacy i have a wonderful man born and bred(and fed) in nigeria ,who is ready to marry me! I'll learn everything else about cooking when we are married(he'll eat everything that comes from my kitchen even as i learn and get better at cooking).Disney was right,Love will always find a way, isn't it?
Hot light flashed across my eyes every time I swallowed so I had to close them, my ears were hot and ringing because of the amount of pepper, my eyes swam as tears threatened to betray me , my lips quivered from the effort I was making. I really wanted to cry.It was like realising the inviting warm lake that was tempting and you dove into was so shallow as you hit your buttocks hard at the bottom.I longed for my handkerchief but it was in my jacket which I flung on the couch in excitement upon seeing how she set the table, there was nothing I could do, so I sat there and prayed for deliverance.
He bit into the fish and once again his eyes drifted shut as that I-am-loving-this-meal expression came on his face once more. I knew I had succeeded. I didn’t even taste the food, seeing him relish the food so much filled me.
That night, I discovered how much I loved Didi, how much it scared me to hurt her feelings, but I honestly didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to take it before my insides began to protest. I broke off a bit of the large helping of fish cooked in sauce before me, I glanced in her direction, her face slick with sweat, a beatic smile lightening it up, Gosh! she was so beautiful! I knew I had to do it, I had to eat everything on the plate so I chewed on the fish and closed my eyes and prayed some more. I never knew I could pray continuously for that long, I also knew I was muttering things. I carefully plied the plates on one another when I finished eating. I washed my hands and stood up, her eyes were on me,full of questions,those big brown eyes that always made a mess of my usually logical and cordinated thoughts,i couldn't look into them as i made this final decision,so i used the boys old trick ,I opened my arms and enveloped her in an embrace.The power of its double etendre worked so well as it always does, i could see,she smiles a satisfied smile. I continued to mutter to myself and chant some sort of mantra, I still could not make out what I was saying. She waved as I drove away. I glanced at the timer on my dashboard as I drove out of Balogun street. The timer showed that the time was 8:51 p.m. I tried to calculate how long it would take to get to Awolowo way on Ikeja but this was Lagos at night, anything was possible. I continued muttering to myself. Mercifully, the next song cued to play on my radio began as I sighted the florescent illuminated letters of Juli pharmacy. I heard the instrumentals and my heart welled up with hope.It was Whitney Houston's'Hold on,help is on the way'. By this time I could hear what it was I was chanting:
Osa, A is for Antacid, B is for Buscopan, C is for Carnation milk.As soon as i entered the store,I walked briskly as I put all the possible ingredients for my restoration in my cart. I scanned the drugs on display till I saw the final one….ahhh yes, F is for Flagyl.
I did it! Who said i couldn't cook?its just that i am just learning the correct quantity of oil,pepper,salt or seasoning to put together for each cooking; i am also yet to fully grasp when beef is sufficiently soft and ready. But here i am, even in my inadequacy i have a wonderful man born and bred(and fed) in nigeria ,who is ready to marry me! I'll learn everything else about cooking when we are married(he'll eat everything that comes from my kitchen even as i learn and get better at cooking).Disney was right,Love will always find a way, isn't it?
Saturday, 24 March 2012
the every other girl syndrome
THE EVERY OTHER GIRL SYNDROME
It happens to the all of us. You are standing at the body lotions shelf at the Supermarket. You are searching for the new rave among ladies, the wonder bath gel and lotion that will return your skin tone to its original shade which no thanks to the sun baking you and the rest of countless other people have to endure everyday while waiting for the cab ride home. Then you spot her. She stands there looking like she stepped out of Gem woman magazine. She had legs like the work of a perfectionist furniture maker, smooth and shapely …hairless too. You look at your own legs and sigh. Your brothers used to look at yours and call you ‘ECOMOG Soldier’. You’ve tried every fancy hair removing cream, they work for a while then you come back to where you started with the hair as coarse and unyielding as the one on your head.
That’s another one, your hair, your clowning glory. Its spatial distribution on your scalp is like an abandoned ewedu garden, the desired growing in the unwanted place and vise versa. Every other girl has theirs, luxurious and silky in the different glamorous hues. You’ve probably met some ladies and ask politely ‘’what’s your special hair treatment?” and they gave you the frustrating answer ‘’Nothing, Just the usual retouching and steaming’’. You’ve been doing just that for a long time so you leave them. You feel like you have some defective genes that make your hair incapable of responding to hair growth therapy. The latest thing you have resorted to doing every morning is what Pastor said you should do about every thing you want to see changed in your life; stare into your reflection in the mirror and confess while clutching small turfs of it “You this hair on my head, you are growing longer, fuller, covering every available space on my scalp.’’ The list is endless; birthmarks that you desperately wish were hidden, place themselves in public view like the gombo marks on grandma’s face, ears that stand at such a unique angle so that the only thing that works on you are the tiny gold studs, nothing to call any more attention to them, fingernails that are not long and feminine looking…………………………(deep sigh)
Its not that you hate your body, you just hate that it is not perfect, (at least not according to your judgment) and you have met ‘some other girl’ who has just the kind of body you want. You resent her, but sometimes circumstances console you and show you that there is indeed some justice in the world, ask Naomi*
Naomi*
It was one of those days a girl feels lucky, Naomi* was feeling lucky. She had come to the supermarket to pick up some house supplies when she suddenly felt eyes on her. This hunk was staring at her but that wasn’t strange, she regularly got a second and third look from men. Once, a guy rammed his car into a police road block while he ogled her. She felt genuine pity for the guy. But this one was different; he cocked a bushy eyebrow in her direction and then lips framed by carefully cultivated mustache stretched out in a slow smile. Then he started approaching the aisle she stood! She whispered a thank you God under her breath and set a demure look on her face as she picked a lone bottle before her. She stared hard at the bottle without seeing anything as he got close to where she was standing.
“Excuse me please.” A rich baritone jerked me from my trance. I looked up to smile at Mr. Hunk who smiled back at me and said politely
“Could you please excuse me? You are standing in my way”. I gasped, shocked as I moved aside .I swiveled to follow his direction that was when I saw her; a gorgeous lady who had on a most tastefully done weave on, her gold chandelier earrings sparkling through the curtain of her inviting curls. Her lithe body in a floral print dress glided up and down and between the shelves as daintily put items in her cart. I could see why I thought he was staring at me; Miss ‘Purrfect’ was standing by the shelf just above where I stood. Suddenly I felt like I was fictional Simbi, in all her rubber threaded hair glory. I lost all desire to continue the shopping, so I slowly pushed my cart petulantly towards the cash point and like magic, there they were again! Mr. Hunk was so charming while asking for her number and she batted long eyelashes at him coquettishly as she said her blackberry PIN, 63EA... I was so envious and I angrily wondered why she had to have it all, the body, the charm and the attention of the good looking guy. It was like she heard my thoughts; she smiled and flicked aside her curly hair and THAT was when it happened. A single rusty nail was sticking out beside the shelf she leaned on but it was too late to warn her. The single synthetic noodle of hair went up in the air and curled itself on the nail. She made to move and KPIM! The gorgeous weave was lifted off her head leaving a very unattractive matted head of hair. In that instant, there was silence. She got frantic as she wrestled her pretty hair from the offending nail.
But her fate was sealed. Mr. Hunk’s mouth still hung open long after his catch had scurried out of the Supermarket. My eyes brimmed with tightly restrained mirth as I edged around him to get to the cash point. The truth had been revealed, my hair might not be long but there were many girls just like me!
The dress will sometimes look prettier on the other girl (which might be you someday) but no one can tell what she’s hiding (or hopes will stay hidden while she’s in public)
It happens to the all of us. You are standing at the body lotions shelf at the Supermarket. You are searching for the new rave among ladies, the wonder bath gel and lotion that will return your skin tone to its original shade which no thanks to the sun baking you and the rest of countless other people have to endure everyday while waiting for the cab ride home. Then you spot her. She stands there looking like she stepped out of Gem woman magazine. She had legs like the work of a perfectionist furniture maker, smooth and shapely …hairless too. You look at your own legs and sigh. Your brothers used to look at yours and call you ‘ECOMOG Soldier’. You’ve tried every fancy hair removing cream, they work for a while then you come back to where you started with the hair as coarse and unyielding as the one on your head.
That’s another one, your hair, your clowning glory. Its spatial distribution on your scalp is like an abandoned ewedu garden, the desired growing in the unwanted place and vise versa. Every other girl has theirs, luxurious and silky in the different glamorous hues. You’ve probably met some ladies and ask politely ‘’what’s your special hair treatment?” and they gave you the frustrating answer ‘’Nothing, Just the usual retouching and steaming’’. You’ve been doing just that for a long time so you leave them. You feel like you have some defective genes that make your hair incapable of responding to hair growth therapy. The latest thing you have resorted to doing every morning is what Pastor said you should do about every thing you want to see changed in your life; stare into your reflection in the mirror and confess while clutching small turfs of it “You this hair on my head, you are growing longer, fuller, covering every available space on my scalp.’’ The list is endless; birthmarks that you desperately wish were hidden, place themselves in public view like the gombo marks on grandma’s face, ears that stand at such a unique angle so that the only thing that works on you are the tiny gold studs, nothing to call any more attention to them, fingernails that are not long and feminine looking…………………………(deep sigh)
Its not that you hate your body, you just hate that it is not perfect, (at least not according to your judgment) and you have met ‘some other girl’ who has just the kind of body you want. You resent her, but sometimes circumstances console you and show you that there is indeed some justice in the world, ask Naomi*
Naomi*
It was one of those days a girl feels lucky, Naomi* was feeling lucky. She had come to the supermarket to pick up some house supplies when she suddenly felt eyes on her. This hunk was staring at her but that wasn’t strange, she regularly got a second and third look from men. Once, a guy rammed his car into a police road block while he ogled her. She felt genuine pity for the guy. But this one was different; he cocked a bushy eyebrow in her direction and then lips framed by carefully cultivated mustache stretched out in a slow smile. Then he started approaching the aisle she stood! She whispered a thank you God under her breath and set a demure look on her face as she picked a lone bottle before her. She stared hard at the bottle without seeing anything as he got close to where she was standing.
“Excuse me please.” A rich baritone jerked me from my trance. I looked up to smile at Mr. Hunk who smiled back at me and said politely
“Could you please excuse me? You are standing in my way”. I gasped, shocked as I moved aside .I swiveled to follow his direction that was when I saw her; a gorgeous lady who had on a most tastefully done weave on, her gold chandelier earrings sparkling through the curtain of her inviting curls. Her lithe body in a floral print dress glided up and down and between the shelves as daintily put items in her cart. I could see why I thought he was staring at me; Miss ‘Purrfect’ was standing by the shelf just above where I stood. Suddenly I felt like I was fictional Simbi, in all her rubber threaded hair glory. I lost all desire to continue the shopping, so I slowly pushed my cart petulantly towards the cash point and like magic, there they were again! Mr. Hunk was so charming while asking for her number and she batted long eyelashes at him coquettishly as she said her blackberry PIN, 63EA... I was so envious and I angrily wondered why she had to have it all, the body, the charm and the attention of the good looking guy. It was like she heard my thoughts; she smiled and flicked aside her curly hair and THAT was when it happened. A single rusty nail was sticking out beside the shelf she leaned on but it was too late to warn her. The single synthetic noodle of hair went up in the air and curled itself on the nail. She made to move and KPIM! The gorgeous weave was lifted off her head leaving a very unattractive matted head of hair. In that instant, there was silence. She got frantic as she wrestled her pretty hair from the offending nail.
But her fate was sealed. Mr. Hunk’s mouth still hung open long after his catch had scurried out of the Supermarket. My eyes brimmed with tightly restrained mirth as I edged around him to get to the cash point. The truth had been revealed, my hair might not be long but there were many girls just like me!
The dress will sometimes look prettier on the other girl (which might be you someday) but no one can tell what she’s hiding (or hopes will stay hidden while she’s in public)
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