Tag Archives: Food

Look but don’t touch!

Started a diet today…sigh…story of my life. Been on more diets than I can count. I am such a foodie, the original ijekuje but I also dream of having a bombshell body (Did someone say bipolar? You can’t be vain and a foodie at the same time can you?)
Anyway today is a fresh start and I’ve done good all day- almost! Le boo tempted me with my absolute best club sandwich after 7pm and I fell even though I had sworn off that kinda stuff. Ah well, a righteous man falls seven times and picks himself back up every time so we’ll try again tomorrow. The sandwich was my only carb today so I didn’t do too badly. Mentally however, I am a wreck! Spent the whole day on instagram and Facebook lusting after food pics. First of all I visited a group I joined some years ago on Facebook called ‘So you think you can cook‘, my oh my, I had a gustatory overload. I was drooling like those thirsty nigguhs watching baes twerk and then I moved over to Instagram and had a food-filled day. Damn food never looked so good!

It kinda got me thinking, isn’t this how the devil tempts us? You are on your own jejerly on your lane days after promising God to abstain from pre/extra-marital sex and then you go on social media and there are girls twerking (and guys twerking too sheesh) and girls with no clothes on and girls with boobs and pouty lips on fleek and dude you look up to heaven and say ‘God have mercy, I am gonna just take a peek but I certainly won’t touch’. Heck at that time the only female available for you to touch is the picture your ex left you when she kicked you out the door so all seems peachy till you step out of your house and BAM you see the best wiggle-jiggle combo you ever laid eyes on and then all your resolve goes out the window and you are a dog in heat barking up that fruitful tree. #thetrialsofbrotherJero. Same way with my diet, after spending the whole day staring at food pics, feeling like I was getting some form of emotional comfort by just looking, I couldn’t resist when the time of reckoning came and my oh my, that sandwich was divine but then here I am exactly where I was yesterday- overweight!

Life is a lot like this. The devil uses the power of suggestion to get us to do his bidding. His is a smooth, sly guy who isn’t going to use force or make you do what you don’t want to do. Oh no! He is going to instead make you do exactly what you want to do but the thing is you didn’t wanna do it till he sugar-coated it and made it look super fine.#instagramfilterstyle
Really he has mastered the art of using our 5 senses plus our ego and lust to entice us into doing almost anything- if we let him. So don’t! Society prides itself on numerous grey areas but the thing is sometimes in life, it really is just black and white, right and wrong, good and evil and the grey is often the devil sugar-coating the negative because he knows that being a great guy you definitely wouldn’t pick evil over good- at least not in your right mind. So the next time you wanna rationalize about not going all the way, remember that that act is sending a subliminal message to your mind that it’s OK to go all the way sooner or later.

Sandwich over and done with and I am starting to realize the number of calories I guzzled down in half a sec! Walk away from temptation bro, don’t you think about dining with the devil because no matter how long you think your spoon is, your safety net amounts to nothing once he has got your mind all enticed and dancing to his tune. This is a public service announcement this fine Sunday evening. Resist the devil (whatever he is to you) and he will flee from you… #blessyouchild

And for the foodies in the house, this post wouldn’t be complete without this natural, low carb icecream recipe I found—–> Banana icecream. Try it and let me know what you think. P.S: the riper the banana the sweeter the icecream. Please share any delicious, easy, low-fat recipes you have and have a finger lickin’, super yummy week full of astounding favour!!!


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Posted by on July 5, 2015 in Diet


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The People’s Choice Food Awards!™

Hi I’m Anita and I’m a food connoisseur! I love food, I love trying out new dishes and I love experimenting. Thing is Nigeria has gotten really really big and complex! Gone are those days when the only eateries around were Mr Biggs and Chicken George! Gone are those days when you had to eat anything you could find because you were unaware of the really good food out there! 🙂

So here it is! The people’s choice awards. We are starting with the best and phase two will cover the absolute worst and places you shouldn’t be caught dead eating in unless you are dead! 😉

A survey is presently going on to gather nominees from Lagos, Abuja, Port-harcourt, Benin and Ibadan for the first round. This is not an award by the food vendors so they can’t influence the results. This is an award for the people by the people. I’d like to visit Port-harcourt and know where I could get the absolute best shawarma in the city, wouldn’t you?

The guys have also asked that we include a section for where to get the coldest beer! 😉 So far we have just one nominee in that category. Please send in your nominations as a comment after the blog post or as a DM or mention to @neetahblaq on Twitter or a comment on my Facebook page.

The final ten nominees will be announced on December 31st and then voting will commence and a winner will be announced in January! Vote well because food-connoisseurs all over Nigeria will be eagerly watching and very mad at you if you send ’em to an awful joint just because it’s your family’s business! Also, if we have up to five negative testimonies as regarding any nomination, it will be kicked off the category list to make space for the best of the best!

Have fun sharing your favourite delicacies with the country and the world…

There are 15 categories so far;
1. Best Shawarma
2. Best Chinese food
3. Best Local dishes (Mama put+Restaurants)
4. Best Suya (Beef+Asun)
5. Best Chicken
6. Best Snacks
7. Best Burgers and Club sandwiches
8. Best Fish
9. Best Ice-cream
10. Best Desserts
11. Best English Breakfast
12. Best Pizza
13. Best Chicken and chips
14. Coldest beer/assorted drinks
15. All rounder

Nominations have been flooding in and we’ve decided on 10 per category except the best ‘Mama put’ category which by popular demand will have 20 nominations and the best shawarma category which will have 15 nominations. If you’ve got a really fab place that hasn’t made the list yet, feel free to send it in!

The nominees are…(in no particular order);

1. For Best Shawarma in Town
The nominees are;
1. Best shawarma (Surulere)
2. TREM shawarma (TREM H/Q Obanikoro)
3. 01 shawarma (Falomo shopping complex/Magodo)
4. Shawarma King (Wuse 2)
5. Uncle D’s (PH)
6. Dolphin shawarma (Dolphin estate)
7. Ketchup shawarma (Wuse 2)
8. Mega plaza shawarma (VI)
9. Options (Bodija)
10. Lekki phase 1 shawarma
11. Drumstick sharwama (Abuja)
12. Pancho Vino Lebanese (Behind SW local, Oluyole estate)
13. Brian and Kourtney shawarma (Benin)
14. UTC shawarma (Ikoyi)
One more entry to fill up this category!

2. Best Mama Put (Local dishes)
The Nominees are;
1. Ghana high
2. Olaiya (Surulere)
3. Local government office Ikoyi
4. Belgium restaurant Mile 2
5. Mama Abuja (PH)
6. Skye Bank amala (Ibadan)
7. Amala yahoo (Ogudu)
8. Jevniks restaurant
9. Mama Cass
10. Omega restaurant Ugbowo (Benin)
11. Ina Strait, Amala joint on Mokola Hill (Ibadan)
12. Iya Ope (Jebenwon road, Ibadan)
13. Lagos Island Mama put
14. Iya Dunni food cafetaria (Challenge, Ibadan)
15. Mama Aroso (by Anfani roundabout ring road, ibadan)
16. Davis hotel for their ‘Dodo special’ (Ibadan)
17. Calabar kitchen/Emmy’s (Area 11, Garki)
18. Madam Naija Delta for her starch and banga (Wuse 2)
19. White house
One more entry to fill up this category!

3. Best Suya in Town!
The nominees are;
1. Glover court Suya (Ikoyi)
2. Yahuza suya (Abuja)
3. Iwaya road suya (Iwaya)
4. Allen suya (Ikeja)
5. National Union of Journalists (NUJ) clubhouse suya (Ibadan)
6. Suya Kiosk for their ‘steamed suya’ (off Akerele before Havana Hospital, Surulere)
7. Big treat Suya (Mallam Oluyole estate, Ibadan)
8. Suya spot (Maryland)
9. Asotime for their isi-ewu (Benin)
One more entry to fill up this category!

4. Best Chinese food in Town!
The Nominees are;
1. Jade’s palace
2. Pearl gardens
3. Mr Woo
4. Saipan
5. Woks and Khoi (Abuja)
6. Prime chinese (Lagos, Abuja)
Four more entries to fill up this category!

5. Best English Breakfast in Town!
The Nominees are;
1. White Bakers (Ikoyi)
2. Munchies
3. Cactus
4. Barcelos
5. Sheraton
6. Brown’s cafe for pancakes and sausage (off Adeola Odeku)
Four more entries to fill up this category!

6. Best Ice-cream in Town!
The Nominees are;
1. Ice-cream factory
2. Hatlab (Wuse 2)
3. Chocolate Royal
4. Mat Ice (Benin)
5. Ooh la la (Ikeja GRA)
6. Kentucky Fried Chicken KFC
7. Grandsquare icecream (Abuja)
Three more entries to fill up this category!

7. Best Desserts in Town!
The Nominees are;
1. Orchid Bistro
2. Arabas
3. Ice-cream factory
4. Chocolate Royal
5. Ooh la la
6. Candy’s (Kofo Abayomi, VI)
7. Wan more (Benin)
8. Pario Delri for cheesecakes (opposite Saka Tinubu)
9. All things are nice for their chocolate cakes (Ilupeju)
One more entry to fill up this category!

8. Best Burgers/Club sandwiches in Town
The Nominees are;
1. Cactus
2. Chicken republic
3. Radisson Blu (Ozumba, VI)
4. Piano Lounge, Transcorp hilton
5. Bungalow restaurant (Akin Adesola, VI)
Five more entries to fill up this category!

9. Best Pizza in Town
The Nominees are;
1. Debonnairs pizza
2. Scoops pizza (Mokola roundabout, Ibadan)
3. Pancho Vino Lebanese (Behind SW local, Oluyole estate)
Seven more entries to fill up this category!

10. Best snacks in Town
The Nominees are;
1. Mr Biggs Meatpie
2. Double 4 snacks
3. Crepes from Silverbird Galleria’s concession stand.
4. Kentucky fried chicken KFC
5. Crepes from Megaplaza
Five more entries to fill up this category!

11. Best Chicken in town
The Nominees are;
1. Tasty Fried Chicken
2. Polo club Ikoyi
3. Nandos
Seven more entries to fill up this category!

12. Best Fish in town
The Nominees are;
1. Catfish peppersoup at Eden gardens Utako
2. Abuja city park
3. Fish meals at Cafe Vergnano(Palms, Lekki)
4. Feel@home (Aguda)
5. CMD fish pepper soup, CMD road Magodo
6. Fish joint (Barracks at Falomo)
7. Churasco for their Brazilian sea food.
Three more entries to fill up this category!

13. Best Chicken and chips in town
1. Tasty fried chicken
2. Moremi car park chicken and chips (UNILAG)
3. Southern fried chicken (Abuja)
4. Four points hotel
5. Bogobiri (Ikoyi)
Five more entries to fill up this category!

14. Coldest beer/assorted drinks (should be a place one can watch football too!)
1. Angels bar (near Masha Kilo)
2. Bar at Four points hotel
Eight more entries to fill up this category!

15. All rounder
1. Mama cass
Nine more entries to fill up this category!

So here are the 15 categories, you can keep sending in nominees till the 31st of december! Tell your friends, it’s time the world knew about the fab joint in your hood!

This doesn’t substitute for a blog post so keep your fingers crossed, there’s one brewing in my kitchen! I love food almost as much as I love you guys! 😉 🙂 🙂

Have a lovely day peeps…xoxo

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Posted by on December 12, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Uncategorized


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  I recently took a refreshing mini-holiday. I had been craving some excitement and some TLC so I packed my little bag and I was on the next Arik flight, destination: Benin city! I had never been to Benin by air and never flown with Arik so I knew there was an adventure lurking somewhere. As I boarded the plane, a very hot flight attendant ushered me in and he was the first thing I actually took notice of as I had been busy with my phone from the moment I checked in. And as if I’d been given the forbidden fruit, my eyes were opened and I looked around, seeing the other passengers for the first time and I was transported back to the time when the hunks on the covers of the Mills and Boons I read, ruled my world. It was like someone had cloned a whole plane of Tyson Beckfords and left me in there, I found my sit, took a deep breath and brought out a book to read. I always read on the plane cos if I’m not reading then I’m sleeping and falling asleep on the plane usually makes me wake up slightly deaf because of the pressure. The title of my book was ‘Act like a lady, think like a man’ by Steve Harvey and Lord knows, I definitely didn’t need to be thinking like a woman on that plane or my thoughts would have run amok! Kudos to Arik for getting me to Benin on time though the pilot did announce that the price for punctuality was that we would only be served water as the snack people hadn’t arrived by the time the plane was taking off. A woman beside me had groaned at the news, obviously she’d have preferred to have her flight delayed for an hour or two than be denied the pleasures of an almost tasteless bread-roll and a plastic cup of juice. I on the other hand couldn’t wait to get off the plane regardless of the eye-candy cos I was gonna be seeing a certain someone… 😉

One of the places I visited was Asotime groove. It’s Benin’s version of Abuja’s Blakes resort but with much more humor. I’d like to announce to you that Michael Jackson didn’t die, he only relocated to Benin where he now wears a green shiny shirt, obviously his favorite and was given another shot at dark skin. I might be wrong but the guy doing the moonwalk must have done some jazz after MJ died, like a transference of skill. Wizkid was in the building too or his twin maybe and the guy was dancing and miming like he was the real deal. I was ecstatic as I have of recent developed a great love for that under-aged boy and I danced and sang along to my heart’s content, maybe under the influence but I’d deny that in court… 🙂

While we are on the subject of alcohol, I couldn’t help noticing the customer service at a certain joint we visited. A guy called ‘Humphrey’ (don’t laugh) was our waiter for the night and he kept repeating his name like he was afraid we’d tip someone else when it was time to pay and while watching a football match, my eyes strayed to the big signboard on one of the walls of the bar. ‘IF YOU ARE NOT SATISFIED WITH OUR SERVICES, PLEASE CALL 080….’ There were three numbers and I was absolutely tripped. In Lagos, the only signboard you’d see in a joint like that would be ‘NO CREDIT TODAY, TRY AGAIN TOMORROW’ or more to the point, ‘WE DON’T SELL ON CREDIT AND GOODS OPENED CANNOT BE RETURNED!’ Benin I hail you oh! I wonder if they’d give you your money back if you complained. 🙂

I couldn’t help noticing how fashion conscious everybody was. The boys had obviously never gotten past the 50cents or Ja Rule fad and wore chains on their necks that looked so heavy it made me wonder if slavery hadn’t been abolished in Benin. The bling blings matched their ‘Get rich or die trying’ attitude and their women weren’t left out. I honestly believe Bini girls are the best dressed girls in Nigeria. They don’t believe less is more and could give Miss Pepeye a run for her money yet they still look fabulous in a way all their own. Even the woman that sold me cow leg in the market was decked up! From false eyelashes and ?brazilian hair to clothes, shoes and jewelry all in bright yellow and long curvy fingernails to match. The way she worked that meat with her nails made me wonder…

On my last night in the town, I stopped by a supermarket and while I was there a man walked in looking like a cross between a drunk homeless person and Bob Marley re-incarnated and in a strong American accent, asked the alarmed shopkeeper if she sold rizlas. He sounded like he was asking for close-up toothpaste and I could hardly control my laughter. Guess everything the Bini people do is with flair and aplomb. 🙂

At last it was time to say goodbye but only for a while. I had cooked snail for the first time in this city, along with my famous edikainkong and explored one of the oldest cities in Africa and I couldn’t wait to do it again. Shout out to baby boy who made the trip a fantastic one. Abuja looks slightly less colorful now…

Off to bed folks, thoughts of wizkid on my mind…purely innocent! Loving track 06….have a great night peeps…xoxoxo 😉


Posted by on August 20, 2011 in Memoirs


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To keep all the eggs in one basket or not?

    I’ve broken many eggs in my days. Dropped an egg, hit an egg by mistake, crushed an egg with a heavy bag and even sat on an egg but one thing I never did was put all my eggs in one basket except when it came to men. It’d have been awful to break a whole crate of eggs after spending four hours in Bariga market just because my shopping bag gave way or my basket was hit by a speeding okada man. I however have not learnt the act of separating my eggs where the men I date are concerned, nope, they always end up in the same basket and I am left to clean up the goo when my big ole basket of a heart gets broken…

After my last breakup, a worldly wise almost-sister-in-law chastised me for putting all my eggs in one basket (her brother’s basket! ;-)) That got me thinking, and I decided to do a l’il research on this precious idiom, after all even if mama was all about her eggs, whoever formed the idiom couldn’t have been a superficial egg-protector unless he was a chicken!

To “put all your eggs in one basket” is to risk everything on a single opportunity which, like eggs breaking, could go wrong. Letting your success/happiness depend on a single person or plan of action makes everything dependent on that one thing so if the basket is dropped, all is lost. This must have been a very important principle for poultry farmers who made their money from selling eggs. The family would go hungry if such a disaster occurred but it seems Naija girls have become 21st century poultry farmers, (not sure if calling us chicks has helped :-)). No sharp babe wants to put her eggs in one basket, after all kasala fit burst.

There are all sorts of dispersion of eggs going on nowadays. One case scenario is common among the average city girls. Many of them cannot imagine not having two men. A rich and very-married maga to pay house rent, buy the fabulous clothes and the brazilian hair and maintain her expensive lifestyle and a good-enough-to-take-home-to-mama young man, usually struggling, to pose as boyfriend. Many times the boyfriend knows he is being played but isn’t bothered cos of the material benefits of dating a ‘bigz gurl’ and besides, he usually has a nice, thought-to-be-well-brought-up girl in a city far away. A vicious cycle but whoever plays the game best wins… and there are no rules 😉

More commonly, you have a man with a chick-on-the-side or a girl with two boyfriends and these people could be spokespersons for Dunlop as their slogan is; ‘you never know when you’ll need a spare’ 🙂 They claim that trusting a woman or man is a sure-banker for a heartbreak as you have no idea what the other person’s agenda is. Let’s not even begin to talk about being faithful…

Since I’m against double-dating at the moment for the silly reason that I believe in love and dating two men at the same time can be more mentally tasking than getting a Nigerian on the moon, besides drama queen that I am, I still haven’t discovered a good enough line to give a man if I ever get caught cheating and Nollywood isn’t helping! So far, the most used line is still ‘I swear na devil cause am!’ which is even lamer than Shaggy’s ‘It wasn’t me’ so I gathered a few points from here and there to justify the foolhardiness of putting all your eggs in one basket!

Here goes…

1) You only have one egg.

2) You need all your eggs, so dropping a basket with only some of your eggs is as bad as dropping a basket with all your eggs.

3) Last time you tried multiple baskets you couldn’t carry them all and wound up dropping some.

4) Having only one basket was good enough for your ancestors, so it’s good enough for you.

5) Because you went to a pastor and he confirmed that it was OK.

6) It looks like one basket is going to be the fad this season.

7) You are going to make scrambled eggs anyway.

8) The probability of breakage does not exceed the cost of additional baskets.

9) You’re a fatalist — the eggs are all going to break anyway.

10) You are rebelling against your mother who told you to never keep all your eggs in one basket.

🙂 For more reasons to keep all your eggs in one basket, go to

Behold, the fool saith, `Put not all thine eggs in the one basket’–which is but a manner of saying, `Scatter your money and your attention’; but the wise man saith, `Put all your eggs in the one basket and–watch that basket!

The business owner who puts all his eggs in one basket isn’t foolish, he’s committed. So peeps take care of your basket, your man or woman signed up for a 100% of your love and attention and not minute measures and if after all is said and done, your basket falls and the eggs get broken, be rest assured that they were rotten eggs even if they smell good (that’s just his expensive perfume), be thankful you didn’t have to carry them home.

Chutzpah yellow pages coming soon…

So take that risk, enough with all the insurance covers! The cow way no get tail, na God dey pursue the flies! (still one of my favorite quotes) Have a lovely day peeps…xoxoxo 😉


Posted by on August 20, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Relationships


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  21, 22, 23, 24……..her phone rings and interrupts her tummy squelching sit-ups. ‘No sir, I am not having sex, I’m breathless because I’m doing exercises…’

She looks at the tummy, if one can call it that. Tummies are supposed to be flat and toned like the girls on MTV not folding like a towel at Transcorp Hilton or jiggly like Shakira doing her thing. This one is definitely a bele! She holds her breath and sucks it in, it looks good from the front but from the side, she looks like she is pouring a drink offering to the god of gluttony! What d’hell?

25, 26, 27, 28…..she remembers the mountain of eba she ate, damn! Washing it down with a bottle of small stout was a bad idea. 29, 30….and that tub of icecream Moses bought her. The guy was unbelievable! He liked his women endowed with big succulent boobs and an ass that could only be described as idi-araba! Yet he wanted her waist as small as the elastic band on his boxers and her stomach as flat as his flat screen plasma. Had he not seen her mother’s bele before he toasted her? How she wished her tummy was as flat as the girls she sometimes caught his eyes eagerly scoping like vultures circling their next meal. He had better know that a big stomach was a great cushion for his head after a long day and he could always pretend it was a 3rd breast! Men were so hard to please….31, 32, 33, 34….she remembered the size of Moses’s gut and chuckled. Did he think she didn’t want her very own real life Denzel? Hian! He called it a sign of good living, she called it one nkwobi-beer combo too many! She was sure he had forgotten how the regions below his belly looked and she sniggered every time he pushed his car seat back to create room for his investment! 😉 35, 36, 37….what would she wear for that party oh?! She groaned as memories of her last shopping expedition came to mind. What were those New york designers thinking when they left little or no space for plus sized tummies? She had struggled into ill-fitting dress after ill-fitting dress, looking for the dress that would make her look like the sex godess she was and had only conceded to buy the black chiffon gown when the frustrated attendant, threatened to bring her dresses from the maternity section. She wasn’t fat, goodness no she was only endowed in one place too many!

38, 39, 40, 41….The truth was she had been proud of her pot belly, flaunting it in bikinis and wiggling it like a belly dancer when the beat allowed. She could’ve sworn the men who pursued her were attracted to that round soft belly. She boasted to the skinny girls with abs that Picasso and the great artists of old, only painted women with tummies like hers. Yes, she considered herself a masterpiece. Her perception of her body image hadn’t changed but now she found herself conforming to the almost completely westernized culture that had become the rule book dictating her people’s perception of beauty. The doctors said her large gut wasn’t healthy, well she’d inherited it from her grandma who had eaten okporoko till she was eighty eight! She counted to 50 and stopped. Glistening with sweat and breathless, she glanced at her tummy hoping to see it had shrunk an inch or so but alas it was all there, defiant like a Niger-delta militant!

Puuuush she cried, inhaling deeply as she tried to force herself into the corseted dress she had chosen to punish herself with. Even after all the exercise, her tummy refused to be bullied into smaller confines. Puuush! Still no luck, with beads of sweat on her forehead and panting like she’d run a mile, she threw her hands up in defeat!

Was it her fault that amala and eba were staple foods in nigeria? Was it her fault that her tummy decided staying unnoticed was a crime against humanity? What did her gym instructors with their perfect little bodies know about true beauty? She may not be able to wear a belly ring that would peek through the folds but which of those non-existent tummies would support the native beads grandma had made just for her? Why would she consider a tummy tuck or liposuction when others had died trying to do wuruwuru to the answer?! She was an african woman abeg! Built like a rock, made to last. She didn’t have freckles and she never turned pink. She could wake up at dawn to feed her family, keep three jobs and still have enough energy to pound yam and pound her husband all in a day’s job.

That bele of hers looked good in a blouse and wrapper and proudly provided support for her breasts with or without a bra. Her husband found it easy to spot her in a crowd and could beat his chest and exclaim that his wife was well taken care of. Yes a big belly wasn’t fashion forward but it didn’t make her any less of a woman. She was a proud african woman with skin like an oil-painting, a backside like a station wagon, breasts like talking drums and a belly like the oba’s palace. She was beautiful, every stretch mark and cellulite telling a wonderous tale. She was groomed to weather any storm, a maiden fit for kings and she’d give you a run for your money anyday. Bele or no bele, she was on fire! 😉

…for all the authentic african women out there, you are perfect just the way you are!!! Have a lovely day peeps, xoxoxoxo 😉


Posted by on June 5, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Uncategorized


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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 😉

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Posted by on October 30, 2010 in Akure Chronicles


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The Other Woman!!!

    She was there long before I met my beau, the only thing he paid attention to. The only entity that dictated his moods outside work! She was probably absent the first day I met him. It was a struggle for him to take his eyes off her but I was a woman on a mission and I was ready to seduce him, whatever it took to get his attention! He noticed me and I thought that would be the end of her till a few days later, he came to pick me up for our first date and was dressed in a horrible porous oversized T-shirt with her name brazenly on the front! I was so mad, I wanted to tell him there and then that she was a ho! He couldnt allow her control him like that. I know he had her first and she’d been his childhood sweetheart but she’d had so many men that I wondered why she wouldn’t just let me have this one! We started dating and I was confident that with my loving and good cooking he’d forget her and focus on me but she only gave me peace for a little while at a time! Every time she came around, she seemed to mock me as my man would become her man, totally focussed on her and totally at her mercy! If she misbehaved that day I’d be the one to suffer it as my man would be moody all day and wouldn’t even touch my food. He insisted on wearing the clothes she picked out every time she was around and I could never contain my jealousy when my man’s eyes would light up and he would roar triumphantly every time she did him good! Why couldn’t I make him roar like that? Not even after a delicious plate of pounded yam and egusi soup with assorted meat and then me for dessert, not even when I wore the red panties he liked so much. What was it about this woman? No matter how many times she let him down he kept going back to her, kept hoping and believing in her, kept trusting her not to let him down again. He defended her everywhere he went, boasted about her, even made bets. Couldn’t she ever do wrong by him? I plotted and plotted against her, tried hard to win his affections, even cried! He’d hold me in his arms and say ”I love you so much and you are the most important thing in my world” but if that was true, why did he forget to call when she was around? Why did he come late for our dates and sheepishly say he’d been with her. He expected me to know and understand afterall so many women were in my position! He and his friends loved her, his friends preferred her to me no doubt and they’d drag my man out of the house so they could all go see her, chatting excitedly as they went not even noticing my displeasure. I spoke to my mother about my pain, my fears, my insecurity and she said, ”If you cannot beat ’em, join ’em!” I was shocked but my mother is wise and I took her advice. I am glad to announce that I am a happier woman now! I know my place as the second or junior wife. I have embraced our threesome and we can often be seen on a warm evening having a menage-a-trois and roaring in combined delight! Yeah I’ve become shameless but don’t judge me!!! I did what I had to, I didn’t realise I’d enjoy it this much. I look forward to my time with her and don’t even complain when my man’s friends wanna be there too. Yeah yeah I’m a Chelsea fan and I love my senior wife Chelsea!!! Blues for life…. ;-)
moral of the story; Don’t pass judgement till you’ve tried it; Kpomo is the poor man’s best meat for a reason!!! Have a great day peeps….xoxo


Posted by on October 21, 2010 in Hall of Fame, Relationships


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