Category Archives: Akure Chronicles

A rat&beetle story, certainly not cock&bull!

      Just when I thought I’d seen it all with Akure&its drama another story comes along! Sometimes I ask myself ‘why me?’ By the time you are done reading you’ll be wondering too.
So there I was counting down to the end of an eventful year and doing most of the counting on my bed with no light and no water cos the well’s gone dry and getting water is now a long thing and I’d been staying put at home trying to read my books like a good doctor should. Oh well it obviously wasn’t working out cos boredom had become an evil spirit and my laziness-induced fasts were not succeeding in casting it out.
So one night I agreed to hangout with my friends K and T. K had been away from Akure for a while and T recently moved to Akure so being the local champion and residing omonile, I made it a point of duty to show them the groovy spots in Akure!

Our first stop was to be our last!
We thought we’d start the hiage with asun and drinks at Royal Park Lane and there I was engaging my friends in animated conversations while forcing down the less than stellar asun the guy had served us! My friends can testify that the asun made on the side of the road near my house is sweeter than that one by far! Anyway mama put dey sweet pass so I’m not surprised.

So there I was munching away, seated at a table facing the pool and my chair was right by the wall which had a little bit of shrubbery and right in the middle of a hearty laugh, I feel it! Something is touching my ass! Not just touching it, rubbing against it and just as I turn to look up at the person who’d have such audacity as to quarve me in public, I remember my chair’s by the wall and no human could’ve been behind me so I look down and the rat looks up at me and time stops….

Now I don’t know who was more afraid, the lecherous rat or the innocent girl getting her ass tapped in public by a furry animal! I screamed and jumped up and gesticulated and checked my butt to makesure it was all there and screamed again and basically jumped around like I was dancing alanta in ways only a drama queen could understand!

Needless to say, I was the center of attraction. All eyes were on me. Most were alarmed, others were amused. My friends looked around for the rat and I could see the relief and obvious amusement in their eyes. There was no rat in sight and they were first of all thankful it wasn’t a snake and then secretly wondering if I’d imagined it. Anyway K calmed me down and I changed my seat. A l’il alcohol helped my nerves and soon I had stopped checking though I couldn’t help glancing at my butt from time to time.

T suggested we go to the indoor bar as she thought the cool air and change of environment would be good for me. When we got into the bar, I was quite impressed. It had a Lagos club look and I fell in ‎​love with the Bob Marley posters that adorned the place. T had to make a phone call and stepped out and K still had this twinkle in his eyes. I knew he still doubted the ‘horny rat’ story! Anyway, karma’s a b*tch! We had just ordered our drinks and I was busy cursing Sunderland under my breath for scoring the first goal when K exclaimed. Anita sheeettt! There’s something in my trouser!
I looked on in awe as he jumped up and did ‘the dance’ and lo and behold a black beetle fell out of his right trouser leg!

At this point I’d like to pause and laugh at K! Hahahahaha!
He had no trouble believing my rat story after that! The beetle was big and black with sharp-looking mouth parts, almost like the scarab beetles in the hit movie ‘The Mummy’. K was shaking like a leaf in autumn and taking swig after swig of his big stout in an effort to calm his nerves and all eyes in the room were on him and the dying beetle struggling to call 911!
The beetle was in bad shape cos K had stomped on it several times like he was doing the MFM prayer, ‘Die Die Die!’ It obviously shook him up! How I wish we were in Jand, we’d be millionaires by now. Would’ve sued the pants out of the hotel. Anyway here in Akure nobody even apologised and the bartender refused to sweep away the offending beetle since it wasn’t his job so the beetle stared at us in pain, wiggling its l’il legs for mercy for the remainder of the evening!

Totally distracted me from the Chelsea game and you could hear me mutter from time to time, ‘I’ll definitely blog about this!’
So here I am blogging and asking myself what would’ve happened to poor K if the beetle had traveled farther north in his trousers and if he’d been forced to strip with a bunch of strangers and camera phones on standby! It also made me ask myself if the rat would ever try to finish the transaction, #shiver! I hope not! My mind went to Nutty professor part II where the white dude got raped by a guinea pig and I almost puked into my glass of irish cream!

Anyway all is well that ends well. T found it hard to believe but the beetle was evidence in itself. She kept looking around in case hers was coming!
Gosh I’ll miss this town, even the animals are lining up to say goodbye!
Shout outs to K and T the only ones I know who believe this story 100% cos they were actually there!
Your service year ain’t over till the animals throw you a send-off party!

Have a lovely night peeps, 7 days till POP! Xoxoxo


Posted by on February 3, 2011 in Akure Chronicles


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I love Akure! There, I said it!

      As NYSC finally says adieu, I can’t but look back at my one year in this place and smile…. I remember my shock and utter dismay when I was handed my call up letter and saw Ondo state instead of Lagos or Abuja. All my runz, all the credit wasted on ass-kissing phone calls, all the people who had genuinely tried to help, everything went down the drain… I braced myself! I was definitely too old to be crying about such things. Anyone who knew me knew Anita was far from a rolling stone! Much as I liked adventure, I liked it only on familiar territory. Anyway nothing could be done. I had three choices, go to the land unknown, sit at home till the next batch of nysc or not go to camp and try to work another state. The last two didn’t sound like very smart ideas so I packed myself and my luggage and three classmates also in the same boat and with dutch courage marched into foreign land. Camp was something else. I hated it. Never ate the food. Depended on mammy market like it was a junkie’s cocaine stash. Had a camp boyfriend, he was cute too! Escaped the early morning drills since doctors are always on call 😉 and even argued with the clinic coordinator! Yes it was the emancipation of Kome! I had a love-hate relationship with Ikaare akoko camp. Being carried up the mountain by two strong guys cos I was about to faint was only fun in retrospect! The endurance trek in too-tight, jungle boots was a walk to remember, my feet almost lost their daintiness! Being chastised and almost punished for not doing miss nysc by my hausa platoon oga was ridiculous. I no be lepah, na by force?!!! Like all things in life, camp came to an end! Then there was the PPA. Slept in a hotel for four days while waiting for the health management board to sort themselves out, more emancipation! Yay me! By a stroke of luck and a pot-bellied leering man who finished from UNILAG and hoped helping me get a spot in Akure would earn him a place under my skirt (poor disillusioned fat man!) I ended up in the only General Hospital in Akure. I love kids and in my usual forwardness, begged to be posted to paediatrics, I was to learn not too long after that I was the first corper in the history of State Specialist hospital Akure to make such an absurd request. No wonder the CMD hastily agreed. I hadn’t done my homework silly ole me! Paediatrics was the most dreaded department in the hospital, the call duty and workload were unrivaled and crazy as hell! This was a classic case of willingly putting my hand into fire and I was stuck! Two months down the line it occurred to me that no one knew I could speak Yoruba when my colleagues sitting right by me began to discuss me like I wasn’t there! The office for a while seemed to be a battle ground. I’d call my mom frustrated at what seemed to be my colleagues’ obvious victimization and I’m sure they got tired of the Lagos girl! I worked hard and the patients and nurses loved me and soon my colleagues and I settled into an almost cordial symbiotic relationship! I’m alarmed to actually say out loud that I’ll miss them. I had mad fun in this funny little town. Rode my first bike here, had my first road traffic accident here, started my blog while eating boli and groundnut on my mattress one sunday afternoon and made all sorts of friends! Ditched a few too! Not everybody that says hello beautiful is NOT a stalker! Had a birthday party here, eventually finished a bottle of baileys out of boredom. A sip a day and a month later the bottle was empty! Oh well…told you I wasn’t an alcoholic! Learnt to cook edikainkong here (Don’t ask!). Saw my first case of female genital mutilation here, it made me appreciate my clit! Climbed many mountains and walked a mile in a pair of heels, all in Akure! My Akure scrap book along with mementos of all my friends would have some retrospective useful tips as well as extraordinary sights to look out for. Here are a few of them -No matter how much shakara you have with your Louis Vuitton bag and Brazilian hair, an okada man will not hesitate to toast you! The men here chop liver die! -Don’t open your mouth rudely if you see a goat standing behind another drinking its piss, they are freaky like that and thirsty too! And if you happen to kill a goat, run for your life, the goats are sacred! -Ever seen a girl pee standing? That’s normal in Akure! The women have perfected the art and can shoot a stream as far as any man, given the right angle of the hips! -Don’t be alarmed if you see a man and a woman on a bike and the man is sandwiched between the driver and his woman! He isn’t being inconsiderate, he is actually preventing her boobs from distracting the driver and the women prefer this un-chivalrous position cos then they don’t get to feel the man’s thingie poking them in their back if it suddenly awakens! Don’t give me funny looks, I asked my hairdresser!!! This is authentic Akure gist! So guys where an Akure chic is involved, forget about being a gentleman and protecting her by letting her sit in the middle. -Don’t be uncomfortable when your neighbor’s goat is relaxing in the sitting room. He’s a member of the family and needs to watch TV too! -It’s also quite normal here to dance bare-footed at a club! A chic’s sandal strap cut just outside the club and her date offered to take her home, she refused, insisted on still clubbing and she danced all night! Too gbaski! These girls are too cool for shoes! -And of course their numerous festivals. You get to stay off work on those days and the guys get to force a chick to sleep over during ORO festival cos they tell her they can’t take her home after a night out cos the masquerades will flog her and so she has to choose the lesser of the two kobokos! -Pounded yam is a local delicacy and you don’t have to spend more than 50 bucks to enjoy it! -Most of the girls are hot till they open their mouths and you are transported to the sequel of Jenifa! (Sulia kan, ayetoro kan!) ‘Hi ham onestly appy to meet your hacquintance!’ -Well water is the order of the day and it’s water with a sense of fashion, changes with the seasons, brown during harmattan, grey during rainy season and clear on blue moons only! Dettol is a must! As essential as oxygen unless you need a hug from Mr Crawcraw! I’ll miss this place! I’ll miss having only 3 eateries in the whole town- one Tantalizers, one Mr Biggs and two Chicken Republics. It makes your eating-out experience quite straight forward and you become regular customers! Everytime I stepped into Chicken Republic I’d say good afternoon and the attendant would reply, good afternoon doctor, shall I order your usual? Just like a 5 star restaurant! 😉 My usual by the way was chickwhizz, coke and icecream! They don’t call me ‘ijekuje’ or ‘medemede’ for nothing! I’ll miss hearing ‘o yagbe’, ‘o n bi’, ‘ara e n gbona’. My patients insisted I understood their language and spoke it to me earnestly. I’ll miss the cheapness, my allowee was ok money here! Lagos is so expensive compared to this town! Life here was so easy. I’ll miss men wearing body magic! In akure when a man gets fat he tucks his tummy away in a corset! Google it if you don’t know what body magic is! Men are no more the only ones in for surprises when the lights come on in the bedroom. The woman’s padded bra is rightly matched by her lover’s corset! I’ll miss Mandos and Nao supermarkets…shopping experience almost like lasgidi! I’ll miss being cat-called at, all because I was in corper uniform, even by granpas! I won’t miss singing…’Youths obey the clarion call…’ I won’t miss constant okada hopping! I won’t miss fetching water from a well 24-7 I won’t miss my salary check bouncing almost every month! In three weeks I’ll be passing out and in the days following it, life as I’ve known it this past year will be no more. Just memories! I went in a girl, I left a woman! (It’s not what you think!) I went from ajebuta to streetwise and I made some friends I’ll cherish forever. Most importantly I was emancipated! I finally left the nest! Mama’s proud of me. The real world awaits now. My prayer for my fellow corpers passing out soon is that we will never become part of the unemployed demographic. That the Lord will bless us with good jobs and all we need to start life on a sure footing. So as I say adieu to the town that has stolen my heart, I urge you all to quit daydreaming and get back to work! Have a lovely day peeps! 😉 xoxoxo


Posted by on January 20, 2011 in Akure Chronicles, Hall of Fame


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Clubbing in akure? Joor oh!

Family Guy

Okay so nysc is gradually coming to a close. (Can I hear someone say halleluyah?!!) And in the spirit of things I’ve tried to have fun but I really couldn’t stand my local peeps nagging me about not really tasting the town cos I refused to go against my ‘no night life’ policy!
Oh well…needless to say, they wore me down with their nagging so armed with my partner-in-crime B and our shared husband cum knight in shining armor ‘H’, we decided to boldly go where no right thinking Lagos girl should!
We decided to go clubbing!
We hatched an elaborate plan backed by adequate permission from our respective okos and an agreement with our gateman (name withheld. Ok, truthfully name not known!), to sleep with one eye open and all that was left were some selzy dresses, do-me stilletoes and we had H singing ‘ole ku’ as he drove out of our house.

First stop was First Victoria, a hotel that had a friday night club and DJ. Place was deader than Ikoyi Cemetry so we drove away at top speed. Next stop was D-17. A popular bar at Alagbaka. The happening part of Akure town. Shout outs to ‘I’ the cutest waitress this side of the sahara! Anyway we got there and at first couldn’t see past the drunk yahoo boys dancing on the road. Ok in all honesty the B.O hit us first. H looked at us begging us to form chick and get back into the car but we smelt excitement, amidst the BO and we weren’t giving up so easily. Besides we were supposed to meet my friend K and his entourage at the bar.

We decided to walk into the club hoping it’d be sane since all the guys where dancing and chilling at the outdoor bar/parking lot!
Big mistake!!!
In my 26 years I’ve smelt varying degrees of B.O.
Body odor from mechanics, househelps, people on the bus, misguided school mates and over-religious anti-procter&gamble colleagues but nothing prepared me for this. I choked, I gasped, I choked again and then the massive explosion sucker-punched me and I staggered.
I opened my eyes hoping the smell wouldn’t blind me and the place had only 2 or 3 people. How were they coping or did they have recalcitrant allergic rhinitis? Or were they the chief producers, marketers and distributors of the smell? I ran out as I pondered those thoughts lest the smell stuck to my clothing. Wasn’t sure my CK perfume and Sure bodyspray would win the war against this chemical or should I say biological warfare!
So we joined the party-hungry masses outside and ordered some drinks. The DJ was on point mehn and soon I cast H my favorite puppy dog look begging him to dance since he’d already announced that there was no way he was dancing in a parking lot with car headlights being the only source of illumination. While he struggled between self pride and puppy dog eyes, a guy got into the car parked right in front of us, one of the cars providing light for the street-club and he revved it. First of all that guy, “Shey you know all of us don curse you for pidgin? Mtchewww.”
Secondly I only cursed small cos the thick exhaust smoke made H jump up like a man possessed, grab my hand and head right for the makeshift dancefloor!
We had fun there. Raw, rugged, razz fun. Fun I shall deny when in lagos big chick mode!
We heard there was a real club some miles away and H said he’d driven there once and may be able to find the place so off we went!

The name of the club was ENVY! Nice name huh? After getting lost several times and almost being trampled by some mad cows with their sleepy aboki we finally found the place.
The outside looked ok. There were big bouncers at the door. Hmmmm. We entered and decided to go to the V.I.P section. The DJ too was on point but we didn’t stay long at VIP. In akure, VIP means no space to dance and you sit and watch feeling like gbogbo bigz boys like Don Jazzy. We wanted to dance so after sitting for some minutes we went downstairs.
It didn’t take us long to analyze the club’s demographic. There were three sets of guys. The ‘I-be-big-boy-for-akure’ who just sat and stared downstairs. Rather than going to VIP to join the sitting crowd, most of ’em wearing their Ralph Lauren Polo like it was their birth certificate! Then there were the ‘I-know-say-I-be-money-miss-road-but-my-swagger-pass-timaya’ yahoo boys with their fakeness staring you rudely in the face. You can recognize them by the elaborate cheap wine popping and their drunken shouts in yoruba! Ami-ohun dripping out of their mouth with every word.
Then there were the ‘I’m-proud-to-be-a-cool-agbero’ guys. Who just danced and just didn’t care. The female demographic was easier. Two categories! Ho or non-ho!
Like I said earlier the music was tight and both my comrades were great dancers.
But in a couple of minutes after saying No to countless offers to go home with some rough-looking man whose eyes alone could give me herpes, I realised that B and I were the only non-hos at the place.
Big ups to H who spent the whole night protecting his wives. The boys weren’t buying the ‘I’m an Oba and they are my two wives story’ and beefed him for bringing the best looking hos to the club and refusing to share.
Oh, I almost forgot to add that the airconditioning was off for the entire night at the club. There were puddles of sweat on the dancefloor and as for the B.O, our noses must have given up at some point. Management at Envy, what’s up with that?
We had fun nevertheless. Danced and danced till about 2am when a drunk guy from demographic 2 almost fought H cos he wanted him to at least release one chick! We left the club high on adrenaline and thankfully didn’t meet any cops on the road or robbers! We got home safely, narrowly missing the trigger-happy vigilantes, our thirst for night life thoroughly quenched.
‘Twas a great night. One to remember. My hair was sweaty, reeked of cigarette smoke and ?B.O and was utterly ruined but it made my hairdressers day as I grudgingly parted with part of my allowee. My clothes discarded in a heap to be disinfected later.
Had fun. Akure night life can’t be compared to Lagos but there’s something fascinating about the rustic lifestyle. Don’t get any ideas! I ain’t staying after NYSC! Heaven forbid such.

Have a great day peeps! Guess what? Tomorrow we get to say TGIF and christmas is coming soon! 😉 I’m on call this weekend but I mustn’t complain. Xoxoxo


Posted by on December 2, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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Seven waterfalls, severe if you fall!

    I feel pain in muscles I didn’t even know I had. I’ve taken double dose of pain killers in 12hrs. My next-door housemate said she could’ve sworn she heard me groaning last night while I was asleep. Yes that may be true but nevertheless I am a happy and satisfied woman. I didn’t let the challenges before me keep me on ground level. I stood up to the taunts! Yes I’m a lagos girl and battling traffic or wearing killer heels is the most physical exertion I get on a day to day basis but despite the name-calling, I showed them this so called ajebutter had spunk.
Yeah I groaned and complained all through but who wouldn’t have in my position. I broke a nail and I bled my own blood and my skin got its share of bruises! Do I regret ever going? Nope. Would I repeat the experience? Never!

Now that I have your attention, let me tell you how I ended up doing the Akure/Osun version of Gulder Ultimate search and you can judge if I was in my right mind or not.
I’ve always wanted to go visit the waterfalls. Ever since I saw a picture of my friend dancing in bra and pant with reckless abandon in a river beside a beautiful waterfall. What liberation! What fun! Obviously since being deprived as a kid, dancing naked in the rain has become an almost-obsession. I’m great at organizing stuff, guess it’s the choleric in me and I’ll only concede to second place in favor of my friend T, we call her da-fixer! Anyway in a few days I’d organised the trip down to transportation and the guest list but as the day drew near the guest list increased till we were forced to abandon the communal eating plan and adopt an everyman for himself, God for us all plan!
The first problem encountered was getting me a pair of shorts and a tee shirt that were not scandalous and wouldn’t cause a heart attack when the water made them cling seductively. All the girls had decided that since the guest list had become infinite, bikinis were out of the picture. I was secretly glad cos the thought of exposing my work-in-progress tummy to the world was against all my grandmother used to say about putting your best foot forward at all times.

The day finally came and off we went after a couple of inevitable delays which were to be expected considering the effort it took to gather women from various locations and get them ready on time.
We got a little lost but were back on track in no time. Our four car convoy was uninterrupted by the mobile police on the road and apart from a couple of tankers whose hung-over drivers tried to run us off the road, we arrived the land of Ijesha without incident.
The entrance to the Erin-Ijesha waterfalls had a statue meant to depict the waterfalls and the guys found it really funny. A couple of them thought it looked like multiple breasts while the remainder thought it looked like a d**k in the process of cumming. Yeah yeah boys no matter their ages enjoy dirty jokes from time to time especially when the girls looked shocked and utterly scandalized. Needless to say we took loads of pictures beside the statue.

A lot of us had to buy overpriced dunlop slippers cos the natives warned that our elaborate foot wear would be hazardous to our climb and then we all took turns changing in my friend D’s truck cos the only other option was an uncompleted building which would’ve had our boobs in plain view.
Getting to the waterfalls was literally an uphill task. We were all panting by the time we got to the first waterfall. The water looked brown but the sight was beautiful. There were barely clad people jumping around in the river and a community of hawkers who even had an ‘I pass my neighbor generator’ which they used to power printers so you could have a kodak memory. No wonder the place has a ‘no camera’ policy!

We played in the water like little kids splashing and shouting and standing and sitting then as is usual with guys they got bored and decided we should all go to the second waterfall.
My first inclination that this was a bad idea came after I injured my toe on one of the rough hewn rocks under water, we were all bare-footed and an accident of the sort was inevitable but as my blood laced the water and I groaned in words only a Lagos girl could understand, all my senses kept screaming that I stay put and not follow the crowd!
I’d always known I was scared of heights but when I saw the treacherous mountain I and my comrades would have to climb with no decent path in sight I panicked. I won’t bore you by repeating all the psalms I said as I climbed up the mountain but I must congratulate myself on my in-depth knowledge of the scriptures, you’d be surprised how many bible verses come to mind in the face of death or at best in the face of total paralysis from neck down or even a cracked skull if one happens to fall. Yes, regrettably despite my inward faith and outward courage I couldn’t get thoughts of me lying on the ground dead or mortally wounded out of my mind. My mind painted different scenarios and if you’ve never gone up that steep mountain, you have no idea what it means to look death in the face! And they dare call it a tourist attraction. Tsk Tsk!!! It was a quest for survival and chick like me, I must’ve looked a sight clawing on the rocks and using my hands, feet and buttocks as leverage. Thankfully everyone was hanging on for dear life and it never crossed any fool-hardy mind to take pictures.

The second waterfall was so worth risking my life for. I couldn’t stop marvelling at how wonderful planet earth actually was. It was beautiful, serene and turbulent all at once, like a hot chick with drama! We played, we swam, we took pictures and our cameras got properly baptized! Some never recovered. Soon we got bored and the boys again suggested we find the third waterfall. Now history has it that there are seven waterfalls in Erin-Ijesha, I say history cos we never did get farther than the third save for Batman and Robin, two die hard members of our group and they brought back the fabled moi-moi leaves as proof! The first three waterfalls are said to be in Osun state while the last four are in Ekiti state. My friend S calls it travelling by rock! It takes about three hours of climbing to get from the first waterfall to the seventh. There’s supposed to be a bearded lady that some people have sworn they saw along the path of the mountains and some parts of Erin-Ijesha are said to be sacred.
Many prayers and bruises later we got close enough to the third waterfall but the path to it was just too steep and only Batman and Robin actually got to the water.
We began our descent and were all thankful we had bums cause they were are main mode of transportation down the rocky mountains.
Soon it was time to go.
I’d hoped to end it by saying we got home in record time but we were stuck in traffic for almost three hours and when we got home, leaving the car became a great task as the effects of our afternoon wore down on us. We were groaning in pain and with as little words as were necessary said our goodbyes and crawled to bed though it wasn’t yet 7pm.
Big ups to my friend H who had to drive his manual car, powerfully steering it through traffic and seemed the worse hit after our journey. He couldn’t decide if climbing the rocks in Erin-Ijesha had done him in or if it was having to step hard on the clutch for three hours in mad akure traffic.
So there you have it… My version of the story. Anyone who thinks I was a whiny child while rock climbing should go and chop sand!!!
Have a wonderful day peeps, thank God it’s friday, peppersoup awaits! 😉 xoxo


Posted by on November 19, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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Mountain climbing!

     My feet are sore, my body feels thoroughly exercised, my muscles ache and I know I definitely lost some weight. When I woke up this morning, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Little did I know that before the day was done I’d have climbed 660 steps back and forth, visited an ancient oba’s palace, shielded my eyes from rude figurines with their well carved genitalia, climbed mountains and put my feet in sacred rivers. No I didn’t dream it all up, neither did I get kidnapped thankfully. I blame PHCN aka NEPA for pushing three girls to the edge.

We’d returned from NYSC’s weekly community development program to meet the fridges as hot and humid as the rest of the house. This would be our third day without light. Maybe NEPA didn’t hear that NLC had called off the nationwide strike. We tried to make do for a while. Phone’s almost off, laptops dead but soon it became apparent that if we didn’t find some entertainment fast we’d be tearing at our eyes or would have probably resorted to playing ten-ten since we’d run out of gossip. And then we had a brainwave… We could go to Idanre hills. Now anyone who knows me knows I do not enjoy taking public transport unless it is necessary i.e. to work. I feel it ruins the fun of an outing and besides God created boys with cars for a reason and till I learn to drive, I ain’t embracing the women’s lib nonsense. My friends eventually defeated all my arguments. Got me into a pair of jeans and a tee, called a colleague for directions and we were out of the house in 15minutes.

Now Idanre is another town about 30minutes away from Akure but we weren’t gonna let that little detail deter us. We took bikes to the bus park and weren’t even deterred when my bike was involved in a mini-accident. We escaped without a scratch and so missed the daily statistics of casualties caused by okada accidents. We got to the park and got an almost full cab or so we thought. It was a small cab and there were 2 other people so when the 3 of us got in we thought the driver was good to go till he informed us that we were gonna be seated 4 at the back, 2 in the passenger’s seat in front. The car was a minuscule 1950s Datsun and I prayed the last passenger at the back would be a malnourished child. Well that prayer wasn’t answered as a hefty man with quite a large ass became the last passenger. We were all squashed like sardines, the windows at the back were bad and permanently up and the driver moved at snail’s speed giving us time to properly inhale the body odors and carbon dioxide circulating in the car. This still did not deter us. The driver stopped at a filling station and after buying fuel the car wouldn’t start. He and a good samaritan tried pushing it but it was obvious that the car was a goner. I saw it coming but nevertheless it was amazing when we were asked to all come down and push the car. Three hot-looking girls in designer glasses, skinny jeans and polos. Well we had no choice, we pushed and pushed and pushed and the car finally croaked to life. I haven’t pushed a car since primary school but yet I was undeterred. Slow and steady wins the race must have been the guiding principle of our tired old driver in his tired old car but eventually we got to Idanre.

We took another bike to the hills referred to as Oke-Idanre. There was a festival going on in town and some dare-devil bike man who called himself an ‘Ijaya rider’ entertained the villagers with stunts I’d only seen on tv.
The mountains were breath-taking, the village was picturesque though it had a strong smell of akpu permeating the whole place, I later learnt it wasn’t fufu, it was dried cocoa beans. Ugh! We were given a guide who introduced himself as ‘face’. I sense he may be the next tuface, I wonder how many kids he’s got already 😉 Idanre hills can hardly be described. It had so much history and culture that I found myself transported back in time as our guide enthralled us with stories from another era. We were cheated by the gala woman and so at this point I’d like to say don’t buy gala and drinks from mama Tinu at the foot of the hills, she’s well aware of the fact that she’s the only shop for miles around and her prices are outrageous!!! Her slogan must be buy my over-priced viju milk or die of thirst on the mountains and have the goats pee on you! Hours later and almost 300 pictures later, we were back at the beginning and it was time to leave. We tipped our aspiring musician cum guard and got bikes to take our aching limbs to the park headed for home, hoping our adventure was at an end. Sadly it wasn’t!

The cab we entered was trouble with a capital T. The first inclination we had to what lay ahead was the over-excited driver. He welcomed us cheerfully. Using words like ‘Iya to jasi’ and commenting on our ‘oyan!’. The guy was on a weed/cheap alcohol high and had to be about sixty years old. All our instincts screamed get down but there wasn’t any other cab in sight and it was getting late. The driver kept us praying and even chorusing Jesus at regular intervals. He sped past two police check points without even attempting to slow down despite the shouts by the policemen and their guns pointing right at the car. I feared greatly at the thought of an accidental discharge and quickly perished the thought cos this chick ain’t dying till she’s a billionaire and on the cover of Forbes magazine! What made the journey worse was the driver’s incessant chuckling. The laughter just wouldn’t stop. Whatever he was on was the sheett!!! We got to akure and got beaten by some freakish rain that started suddenly. Abeg where’s harmattan ooooo?!! It was rush hour and we practically walked home cos there was no bike in sight.

There was still no light when we got home but we are hopeful and the remainder of the adrenaline in our blood coupled with the memory of our adventure and the lovely pictures is enough to keep us preoccupied and if all else fails, our aching limbs and apparent exhaustion will send us off to bed early! Have a lovely night peeps….xoxo


Posted by on November 11, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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And then it bounced!

      Have you ever received an sms that ruined your day? No not a break up text or a text from your landlord telling you your rent is due but a text from the bank telling you your cheque bounced!
For those who have experienced it several emotions come into play:

First your phone beeps and you smile, it must be my sweetheart missing me or my Alhaji telling me his wife has travelled or a stupid message from zain or a babe sending a text to say she no want do. Whatever it is, someone just spent 15naira so let’s see.
Then you see it’s from the bank and as you click on it, you wonder. Could someone have stolen my atm and withdrawn money? Or is it one of their useless alerts or my maga don pay?
Nothing prepares you for the message…

It comes in different forms depending on the bank but the information passed na the same:
“Abeg come collect your rubbish cheque joor, the thing don bounce! Na who tell you say money dey for that account? Mtchewwww!!!”
Yes, no matter how politely the message is composed, it registers the same way!

Am I the only one that looks forward to the end of the three-day clearing period, unable to sleep cos of endless mental calculations on how I’ll spend my money?
Those shoes I saw at Fashion empire, that dress at Collectibles, those jeans from Yaba, some binge eating at Chicken Republic, Y’s money for aso-ebi and bridal shower! Chei!!! All my dreams up in smoke!
I fit kill somebody oh!
Na who write me that cheque?
Abeg come answer your papa name!!!

So here I am, broke, disillusioned and slightly confused. Wondering if the person that issued the cheque has carried all his load and family and left town.
I try his number, o.k it’s still ringing.
“Oga how far now? Kilonshele?”
“About the cheque, my secretary made some mistakes. No vex, go to the bank and pay it in again!”

Chick like me, definitely not looking forward to going back to the bank and I was even flirting with the guy when I paid it in! Oooooh!!!
So what do I wear?
Do I dress like I don’t need the money, just in case one aggravated female tellar tries to diss me or should I dress like a typical civil servant afterall na government money and na them fall my hand???
Tough questions.

On getting to the bank, the doors do shakara for a while before they let me in!
Haba these doors are getting worse than airport security, before long we’ll be removing our shoes!
I swear in pidgin!
As I enter the bank, my walk of shame begins.
Why does it feel like everyone’s looking at me?
Is it my mind or did I just hear someone whisper; “On top her designer bag, she no get kobo for bank, na bounced check she come collect!”
I realise I don’t know where to go.
Banks why don’t you have a big signboard that says “if your cheque bounced, go to room 11 to collect it” so that we can stylishly read the sign and locate room 11 with minimal embarrassment.
Nooo….they prefer open shame!

I walk over to the customer service desk where ten other people are struggling to get the woman’s attention! Is this a bank or oja, I wonder. She looks very irritated and I’m abit afraid.
After standing there for a few minutes and seeing the crowd thin out, she looks up at me and says “can I help you?”
I tell her my problem and I swear the look on her face would have gotten her sued in another country! She repeats ‘bounced’ enough times to attract the attention of her colleagues and some aproko customers and as I walk away barely remembering her description, I thank God I’m not caucasian or even fair-skinned cos omo, my cheeks feel like they are on fire!!!

When I get to the office, I wait hours for a man whose gone on lunchbreak! Biko did he have to go to market first to prepare the meal?
When he finally arrives, he makes me sign in three places, for security reasons he says! Like anyone would go to the bounced cheques section of the bank to steal a cheque! *rolling my eyes*

I go back downstairs and pay the cheque, quite unfortunately to the guy I was flirting with last time I came to the bank!
He’s a bit surprised at my sour mood and makes a joke about government workers and bounced cheques. I didn’t laugh!

At this point I’d love to say, my money was delivered three days later and I was able to put the ordeal behind me but no be naija we dey? The cheque bounced two more times!
By the third time I’d become a regular in the bounced cheque department!
By the time the money was finally paid, all the things on my to-do list were either sold or expired!
I even had to change banks for a while so that they could forget my face!

I paid in a new cheque on monday, rumor has it that everyone’s cheques bounced. I’m sitting here silently begging God to spare me the ordeal. I keep glancing at my phone, the last text I got, got my heart racing but it was only a text from one runaway admirer.
Abeg help me beg God and beg the Federal Government. I bounce all bouncing cheques by fire!!!

Have a great day peeps, xoxo


Posted by on November 4, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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In pursuit of Peppersoup!

          It was supposed to be a fun day, the ultimate TGIF experience. We’d go swimming, eat expensive peppersoup, not the one found in the cholera joints Akure was dotted with. We had all skipped work thanks to NYSC’s monthly PV-signing and were all lounging and brimming with anticipation. What could possibly go wrong? I learnt a long time ago that that statement has the power to make everything go wrong. Murphy’s law states that everything that could go wrong, will go wrong!
The first wrongness was the sudden change in weather. Ondo state is called the sunshine state because the sun likes ‘ise takun takun’. Once it’s daybreak the sun comes out with such scorching ferocity that if there were any butas in the state they’d be packing the sun block and have umbrellas to fit every outfit. Thankfully it’s also a place almost devoid of butas as those who have enough money dream of bigger cities and run away as soon as they can own a bank account! So there we were banking on the sun to do what it did best when suddenly the sky turned a funny color and then we heard the rumbling thunder. Not to be deterred we settled on a big brunch while waiting for the rain to stop. Half an hour later my comrades and I were stuffed, sleepy and rationalizing that if we went swimming now, we’d not only get cramps cos it’s a known fact that you do not swim after you eat but we’d also catch pneumonia and die cos it was so so cold. So we decided to take a short nap and wake up as soon as the sun had warmed up.
We woke up 5 hours later, shocked at the nerve of our bodies to betray us in such a manner. We decided to take quick showers, slap on some baffs and makeup and go eat peppersoup since swimming on a Friday evening was akin to begging for an audience of round bellied middle-aged men cheering at all the free, fresh booty.
We finally left home at 7pm feeling brave and already almost-tasting the pepper water with fresh point and kill. We got to ‘oja’ and the nightmare began!

The bikemen that took us to the market that was in the heart of the town and the only place where you could get transportation everywhere within the state should have warned us that they had started their Friday night grooving earlier than usual. Initially they drove carefully to put us in the place of false security and as we were approaching the market started driving like they’d promised Baba some heads. I had only just recovered from my first bike accident and bb tucked away in purse I screamed at the bike man. I had never been out at night on my own or with chicks but my friends had insisted we ditch the men and have a ladies night out and I could hear the gods chuckling in silent mirth.
My bike guy after almost killing me twice parked behind a reversing car and the driver of the car shouted that his brakes were awry, I still haven’t perfected the art of jumping off bikes as I’m still quite a novice with this means of transportation so it was a little split-second riot of people shouting, anticipating disaster, the bike guy trying desperately to maneuver the situation and me not really sure whether to stay put or jump off, all I knew was I didn’t wanna be a statistic another time around.
When we arrived at the market my glossy lips parted in disbelief, I was snapped out of my reverie by some old woman desperate for a bike as there was no means of transport around. She almost pushed me off the bike, grinning contentedly that she’d beaten the other dozen people waiting for bikes to this one! My comrades were no where in sight and I felt lost. This was a route I passed everyday to work but I felt like Alice entering wonderland for the first time. This was rush hour, Akure style. I didn’t even know the town had this many people. There were throngs of people on the road, barely allowing the cars to pass and almost injuring themselves as they climbed on top of eachother to enter the few available not yet jam-packed cabs! There was a night market going on and women sold garri and tomatoes on the road itself, forcing cars to slow down or have mass casualties. There were area boys, area fadas and area mamas. There were hos, pimps and prophets. I didn’t wanna bring out my bb, not with the 5 or so shady looking men trying hard to act like they weren’t checking me out but I had to, my comrades were lost in translation and I was about to have a panic attack and I needed to make the call. Lagos had not prepared me for Akure at night. Finally found my friends and we fought our way through the crowd clutching our phones and purses like our lives depended on it, all in the pursuit of peppersoup! One of my comrades needed to use the atm in the market and we guarded her with the most ferocious looks we could muster, hoping we wouldn’t be robbed on the spot. The three of us, joined the hundreds of people waiting for transport and since we were going to highbrow Alagbaka, when we finally got a cab going that way, no one tried to pull our hair out in a bid to secure the seats from right under our bums!

We’d have preferred bikes cos they’d have taken us straight to Sunview hotel, the temple that housed our steaming, overpriced plates of peppersoup but the bike men were no where in sight. Maybe one of ’em threw a party!
The cab guy dropped us at the business district of Alagbaka and we almost begged him not to leave us. The place in stark contrast to Oja was a ghost-town and Sunview was about 30minutes away on foot. There was no other person for miles around, just empty offices. Guess these people didn’t joke with TGIF! As we were walking towards the only street light, I screamed as a vicious pain shot through my brain. Aaaargh! My comrades turned in fear as they saw the anguish on my face. Had I been shot? Or bitten by a snake? I looked at my throbbing foot and fighting back tears swore instead. There was some jagged metal sticking out of the curb and it had feasted on my foot. I felt some moistness in my gladiators and imagined thick red blood signing my name across the pavement, all in the pursuit of peppersoup.
I used my phone as a light source and inspected the damage, my skin hung loosely around the wound and the doctor in me found the will to rip it off. I wasn’t bleeding cos it was a shallow wound but I could see my lighter colored dermis. Trying not to dull the mood and realising if we didn’t get moving we could get robbed, I said in a cheery voice, ‘At least I won’t need an anti-tetanus injection’.
Just then we sighted a lone-ranger, a bike man!!!
We hailed him and he stopped. We told him we needed at least a second bike and he offered to take one person first and come back for the other two. It sounded like one-chance and we declined.
He seemed confused wondering why a bunch of high-class, well dressed prostitutes headed for the biggest hotel in town to make big bucks would be afraid to travel solo. He waited with us till another bike came along.

The bike guy was charging triple the fee and we sent him off in anger! He complained as he restarted his bike that what was 80 naira compared to how much we’d make tonight. While we were still absorbing the information and struggling to accept the fact that everyone who saw us on the side of the road at 8pm would think we were night-workers, a car stopped. We didn’t notice initially cos it was on the other side of the road. A guy got out from the passengers seat and came to offer us a ride to wherever we were headed. Nothing we said got through to his brain that we didn’t need his help. He probably had stopped thinking with his brain by then and glancing at the car across the road with its tinted windows I thought of the Yahoo-plus boys that had become so popular in Lagos, no man was using my breasts for juju!!!
Another bike finally arrived and we were thankful cos ignoring the car-man was becoming a burden and the first bike man’s non-stop chattering was fraying our nerves. Maybe he thought he could get lucky and score some discounted booty afterall he’d been helpful. The new bike man said a price even more bizarre and my friends and I snapped. Na by force to chop peppersoup? Haba! We told the bikemen to get lost and decided to trek to the Chicken Republic we’d passed while in the cab, afterall what if after enjoying the peppersoup we were unable to secure transport back home? None of us was ready to pay in kind.

Leg still in pain, I walked off totally ignoring car-man and he had the nerve to follow us!!! He kept talking, ‘I know you now, Simisola, why you dey front like you no know me?’. Half-way to Chicken Republic, I turned to him and in a slightly mysterious voice I said, ‘You are not even sure we are real people and you just dey waka dey follow us, I fit be winch oh!’ and turned calmly and continued walking. I looked back a minute later and he was gone! My friends and I laughed at his gullibility and inherent fear of witches as we walked into Chicken Republic and finally laid to rest all thoughts of evil peppersoup! I embraced the idea of a chickwhizz and my mouth that had been dry due to the adrenaline the evening’s adventure had stimulated, began to water. As I was opening my wallet to pay for the take-away, guess who walked in? Car-man with another man, probably the driver in tow, my mouth parted in disbelief. The driver walked up to me, stared intently into my face for a millisecond and said, ‘No be Simisola!’ and without so much as an apology they left. I was shocked. In retrospect I wonder wetin Simisola do them. ‘If you are Simisola of Alagbaka red-light district, some of your customers dey find you oooooh!’

We left the place, happy food in tow and got a cab to Oja quite easily. We felt we had escaped the fury of rejected peppersoup. But hell hath no fury as point and kill left alive! We got to Oja no more alarmed at the crowd and decided to take a cab to the junction before our house and walk the remaining 10minutes home. We found the second cab easily enough and as we relaxed almost tasting the chicken while we lounged indoors, it crossed my mind that I had promised my pastor I’d attend the night-vigil that night. I was so comfortable that I whipped out my bb and started pinging away till I heard the commotion. Cars were reversing, people were shouting, I could see a police van in the distance. Armed robbers!!! There was no other route home so the cab man stayed put and soon the cars started moving, meanwhile I’d hidden my valuables, put my bb and E71 on silent and tucked them away for safe-keeping and then held my visafone in plain sight telling my comrades that if I was gonna get robbed, that was all I was willing to part with! They found it quite amusing.
We finally got home in one-piece, I ate and promptly went to bed. I was mentally exhausted. Woke up this morning to see countless missed calls from my pastor and some other friends. I’m still looking for a suitable excuse to give pastor tomorrow morning. Should I just come clean and tell him it was all in ‘the pursuit of peppersoup?!!’

Have a great day peeps! xoxo 😉

1 Comment

Posted by on October 30, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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Okadas; A one way trip to hell?

   Yesterday I became a statistic as my friend so sadly pointed out. I was involved in my first okada accident. Now those who know me can testify that I’m quite the chicken. I can’t drive because even though I’ve been to driving school and can technically move a car, I lack the courage needed to tackle the mad drivers on lagos roads. I always had a personal cab man, Mr Amos. Mr Amos was a character! He drove me everywhere, never complained when I was late cos his prices were outrageous! My friends said he’d build a house with all the money he extorted from me but while I’m a chief haggler when it comes to shoes, clothes, food items etc, I’ve never been able to haggle where transportation was concerned. I hated standing on the roadside waiting for a cab and if a little extra would guarantee I got picked up from my house to wherever I was going, it was a price I was willing to pay. Mr Amos was an alakoba driver. He knew the secrets of all his clients. He always listened attentively to every phonecall made in his cab and every matter discussed between friends sitted unsuspectingly in his vehicle. After being my cab driver for a while, he knew that I went to Ikoyi on Wednesdays and Fridays and home on Saturdays. He always interrupted me when I called him, telling me he knew where he was taking me to and we both knew how much it’d cost. I’m sure he’d make a great driver for an aristo chic on the job. He talked however, and that was his flaw. He’d tell me about Lola who was cheating on her boyfriend with an Alhaji in V/I or Ngozi who was pregnant and had aborted it. I always wondered what he told the other girls about me.

Okadas were means of transportation that were a taboo in my house. We had all seen the horror stories and knew the statistics by heart. We also encountered them everyday on the roads and I often wondered that with the daily curses that were rained on them every day, it’d be foolhardy for them not to have a strong baba somewhere counteracting all the epes, buying baba a small white fowl every week would not be such a great fee for his services. And so it was an unspoken rule in my house that we were never to take okadas. I did disobey twice. The first time was as a result of a dare. My friend and cousin had dared me to take an okada down Charly boy’s street. I didn’t even make it half-way and when I was finally let off, i could barely walk cos my legs were jelly and my bladder was suddenly full to bursting! The second was on Adeniran-Ogunsanya and my cousin had said she wasn’t walking the whole length of the road. I had screamed ‘Blood of Jesus’ till the okada man parked and said he wasn’t going again. ‘I be devil?’ He shouted, obviously annoyed. I got down without a word and walked the rest of the way in silence.

I had no reason to get on okada again till 5 years later when I was posted to Akure for NYSC. Without a car you cannot survive not taking an okada in Akure because the commercial vehicles only ply the main roads. My friend Nonye insisted on teaching me how it was done and eventually I got over my fear. First I’d grab tightly the bar at the rear of the okada, all my senses focused on my right leg. My mantra would be ‘Don’t fall off and don’t let your leg touch the exhaust!’ I said it again and again and again but like all scary things in life I soon got used to it. I even got cocky! I would take an okada even when I could take a cab. I loved the wind in my face and no one knew me in Akure so all the lagos chic fronting was unnecessary! 😉 I even started receiving calls while on a bike and after a while would whip my blackberry out and ping away while zooming at top speed till the fateful day…

Yesterday changed my life!
I had run my saturday clinic as usual and the only remarkable thing on leaving the clinic was a beggar who insisted I gave him money and after giving him he said ‘God bless you!’
On a good day it wouldn’t have been such a big deal but after my ill-fated incident his face flashed before my eyes and I was glad I gave him money!
Call me superstitious but I grew up watching ‘Tales by moonlight’ and we all know what happened to the village girl who didn’t give the old woman water to drink from her calabash! So here I was, sitting on a bike, pinging my friend J and dreaming up what I was gonna have for lunch when all of a sudden there’s a crash, I think I saw it a split second before it happened and next thing I know, there are two bikes and four people on the ground, I included! I held on tight to my bb still confused not even aware that some tout had noticed the glittering studs on my phone. I got up, amidst people shouting and exclaiming. I could see the headlines for tomorow’s akure sun newspaper, ‘Doctor corper involved in okada accident and falls yakata for ground!’
I counted my body parts, checked for bleeding and crossed the road. That was when I noticed the tout following me, I put my phone in my pocket and as he stretched out his hand to relieve me of my valuables, I hit it quite hard! ‘Get away!’ I yelled! Anger welling up within me and masking my fear and the pain that I was just only becoming aware of! How dare he think he could steal my phone after I just survived my first okada accident? I stopped another okada as there truly was no other means of transportation to my house and left the scene of the accident as fast as I could. The drive home was a painful one. My butt hurt, my knees hurt, my arm stung! I half-believed I had internal bleeding but I was strangely calm. No tears, No racing pulse or at least I wasn’t aware of it, bb intact and the face of that begger still in my head! It was all very confusing though. I got home, took a pain reliever, examined myself in the nude, called up close family and friends so I could be fussed over and petted and remembered I bought bananas and started munching away.
My left butt’s still sore and I have refused to get out of bed so I’m not sure if my hips can still sway properly as they declared a strike soon after the incident. Can’t blame ’em, they’d rather sit pretty than walk like a man! I woke up this morning grateful for the gift of life but feeling like I’d wrestled with a giant and lost! 😦

I have become a statistic. Many people have lost their lives or have been severely deformed due to okada accidents. During the two months I spent working at the Surgical Accident and Emergency unit and the Neurosurgery unit in LUTH I saw enough horrors to last 2 lifetimes. I still may never have the liver to take an okada in Lasgidi but I’m a wiser Akure okada passenger! Please be careful when you are on an okada. Those okada drivers must surely have 9 lives or be on a continuous suicide mission but you have only one and I’m sure you love your life! If the driver is going too fast, ask him to slow down and try not to use your phone while on it so you are not distracted. Thank God for my mother’s prayers! I have a testimony today but a lot of people were not as lucky. Life is short, don’t end yours on a bike! May God protect us all. Have a lovely Sunday peeps! 😉 Xoxo


Posted by on October 24, 2010 in Akure Chronicles, Hall of Fame


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