Ngozi's Blog

Hello beautiful people!!…

Hope you guys enjoyed the Christmas break. It’s been a looong ass weekend and I never thought I would be the one to say that I cannot wait to get back to work. Or maybe not necessarily work work… maybe just the office. Anything to get out of the house. I went to church this morning and everyone kept asking where I’ve been, from the pastor to my group leader to the security men. I miss just one Sunday service and Christmas morning service and it’s like I was the one who turned Mary and Joe back at the inn…

Meanwhile, today is my baby brother’s birthday!!! Yaaaaaaaaay!!!

You know how, in every family, there’s an underdog? He’s the one who starts out like he won’t have much to offer, so no one really focuses on him. It’s worse when he’s the last born cos it’s easy to just assume that he’ll grow up spoiled…

Well, that’s the story of my baby brother. It’s not like we thought he was useless. Far from it. It’s just that he didn’t do anything new that my parents hadn’t already seen in the ones before him. The only different thing was that he was the last child and last born kids never really outgrow their cuteness. He was cute forever, and the rest of us kids shamelessly relied heavily on his cuteness. We used it to get whatever we wanted from our parents.

“Enyi, go and tell mummy that you want to drink mineral…”

“Enyi, go and tell daddy that you want biscuit…”

“Enyi, go and tell daddy that you were the one who squandered Ngozi’s inheritance on Coldstone Ice-cream…”

It always worked like a charm.

Anyway, eventually, the baby grew up and it was time to go to school. I don’t know whose bright idea it was to send him to a military secondary school, but that’s where he went. He went in a child and came out so independent. By the time he graduated from university (with a first class), he was a grown ass man. It was as though we blinked and he grew up just like *snaps fingers* that!

Now, he’s like the shining star of our house and everything he touches turns to gold!!

I can’t describe how very proud I am of him. He takes good care of me and always always has a word of wisdom… When I’m having issues at work, especially with a co-worker, he always knows the emotionally intelligent thing to do. Once in a while, when I come up with one of my hare brained business ideas, he’s there to squish it before I give it life and go bankrupt. There’s absolutely nothing I can’t talk to him about.

He’s funny and he’s one of those annoying people who always see the bright side of everything. And I love how he lives life to the fullest… doing white people shit like mountain climbing and sky diving.

Enyi, I wish you the very best and I pray that God will continue to bless you. You are the bestest baby brother in the whole. wide. world!!! Thank you for always always being there… I love you loads.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOO BOO!!!!

        

 

Good morning beautiful people!!!

I’m at work and I miss home. I had such a wonderful weekend… I didn’t want it to end. I stayed home from Friday evening when I got back from work, till Monday morning. I didn’t even go to church yesterday. The only time I left the house was Saturday evening and that was to buy a truck load of paw-paw and oranges just down my street.

No trips to the market, no cooking, no church work… just some laundry, a bit of housework and lots of sleeping and Tv watching. It was some much needed me-time. Now I’m looking forward to the long weekend coming up 😀

We’re having our office end of year/Christmas party tomorrow and I’m a bit worried. Everyone else is excited but I’m not… First of all, it’s an ‘all-white’ party. We’re supposed to be dressed in white and I don’t have anything to wear. Not one single white outfit is in my wardrobe. I have black and white, red and white, yellow and white, but nothing that’s all white. And Lord knows that I can’t afford to get a new outfit… not right now.

The second issue is, I don’t really wanna party. I’ve been avoiding parties for a while now and I’ll tell you why. Earlier in the year, I read Steve Harvey’s “Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man”. In one of the chapters, he wrote about the kind of woman that men want and it completely changed my life. He was talking about the difference between a “Throwback” and a “Keeper” and he said;

“…a woman who drops it like it’s hot and puts on a dance floor performance that would make video vixen Karrine Steffans blush is a throwback.”

I’m not a bad girl. I talk rough and crack the most obscene jokes, but I am really not a bad person. I (used to love) going to parties, letting loose and allowing myself have a good time. I will usually take as many bottles of Smirnoff or Snapp or whatever mild poison is available that I need to let myself go. I’ve never gotten drunk… tipsy, yes, but never to the point where I can’t walk a straight line.

And one thing a lot of people don’t know about me is I love to dance. Not only that I love to dance, I’m a pretty good dancer (even if I do say so myself). Initially, when the party is just getting started, I stay safe doing the running man and the electric slide. Then the alcohol starts to kick in and Jason Derulo comes on and asks me if I know what to do with my big fat butt? You’re damn right I’m gonna wiggle wiggle wiggle…

The pimp walks into the crib and you expect me to drop it gently like it’s luke-warm? Hell nah! I will drop it like it’s on fire baby… that’s the only way to drop it. ‘Twas it not for the sole purpose of twerking that God blessed me with those special lower back twerking muscles?? I realize that not every girl has ‘em. ‘Tis a blessing.

So can you see my problem? According to the book, I’m not the kind of girl you take home to mama. But in reality, I’m just a fun-loving girl who wants to party without being judged. I want to twerk without coming into work the next day and having guys give me suggestive looks. I want to dutty wine and side-split without girls calling me a slut behind my back. Otherwise, what’s the point of going to a party and sitting quietly a few tables from my MD and sipping on Ribena for 3 to 4 hours?

Smh…

Here’s an example; Some time ago, I got kinda close to this guy. It wasn’t anything special but there was some potential there. We could talk about almost everything. He used to say that I was fun to be with and how much he enjoyed my company. I probably wouldn’t have gotten ideas if he didn’t used to say shit like that…

Months later, he ended up with some other girl- quiet, sweet, Christian girl who cracked only righteous Christian jokes. A friend asked him about me and his response was, “Abeg o… I can’t handle Ngozi”.

We all laughed about it but it touched me. It was a lesson… an eye-opener. I’m not sure what to do about it though. It’s probably too late for me to change who I am. I mean, I can’t walk around town pretending like I don’t know how to twerk and I don’t watch porn. That would take too much energy… but more and more, it is helping me make up my mind about the kind of man I would like to end up with.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to work on my end of year blog post. I would like to share a few things I’ve learned this year. Last year, I started late and abandoned it half-way so New Year’s came and went without me saying anything. I don’t want that to happen again this year… especially since my blog will be two years old on the 31^st!!! 😀 I’m really excited about that.

Oh yeah… one last thing, you guys should help me thank God for two of my colleagues who were both attacked by armed robbers, one last week Tuesday and the other over the weekend. The Tuesday guy was stabbed in his arm but he’s doing well. The other guy was shot at close range but for some reason, the gun didn’t fire. He’s in the office now and everybody is making him tell the story over and over again… poor guy.

Have a beautiful week guys. I gotta run. I’ll let you know how the party goes…

:-*

My country people!!

It’s only Wednesday and I’m exhausted… About two weeks ago, I made up my mind to be more independent in my transportation life. By independent, I mean going to work and coming back on my own. Before then, every day was an adventure. Usually, I find my way in the morning… that is not a problem as long as I leave the house early enough. It was returning home from work that was the issue.

It was in July/August, in the middle of the Ebola wahala that all this started. You guys remember that at the time, we didn’t really have all the details of the disease. It was easier to sensationalize it than to just Google the facts… all we knew then was that;

i) The Ebola virus was manufactured in a lab in Ferguson, Missouri.

ii) The virus had well developed limbs and it could walk/jump/fly from one person to another, penetrate the skin and cause your internal organs to shrink.

Naturally, like everyone else, I was afraid. As fucked up as my life is, I didn’t wanna die. And I figured that the fastest way to catch Ebola was by being pressed together like sardines with sweaty strangers in a danfo bus. So I reduced public transportation, and after a while, I stopped taking buses altogether.

This fear of Ebola made me an expert on the lives of my colleagues who stay in my area. I knew what days they had mid-week service, I knew when they had to leave early to pick up kids and I knew when there was a turning up and he/she would not be heading straight home… ‘turn up’ is usually on Fridays.

I also knew the unspoken rules and regulations of each car…

There was the sleeping rule; One car had a paid driver and that car was sweet because I could sleep the entire journey without feeling bad. I and Madame would lounge in the back seat and she didn’t mind as long as I didn’t snore or drool on her car seat while I slept. Then there was my friend’s car… that’s the cool car. It was my favourite car because we would gist and laugh from the minute we leave till when I get off. However, in that car, no matter how tired I am, I dare not sleep.

There was also the eating rule; In one car, you could eat whatever you want… I’m talking eba, fufu, ewedu, amala… whatever! It didn’t matter. In another car, the eating rules were stricter. It was there I discovered that I had a secret power/hidden talent. Did you guys know that I can chew kpekere silently? Well, neither did I until one fateful day in September. I was in a car on my way back home. The car was dead silent. My colleague’s husband was driving and no one was saying anything. Me, I was in the back seat cold and hungry… I hadn’t eaten anything the whole day.

We got to Ikoyi and met some traffic. I signaled to one of the Kpekere boys and a couple of them rushed to the car as I wound the window down. The entire time, I was feeling very self-conscious. I didn’t know whether or not to offer them some. Were they too cream for kpekere? Or did they like their plantain self-fried? I didn’t know.

I bought two packets and just stared at them in my laps… you guys know how noisy the kpekere wrappers sound right? So you can imagine how much louder the sound was in a quiet car; it sounded like Christmas bangers. But I had no choice because I was starving. It wasn’t until after I opened it that I realized that the least of my problems was the noise the wrapper would make. I managed to open it, yes, but how was I going to chew the kpekere without sounding like a stone crusher in a quarry?

Brethren, I can’t explain how I did it, but I ate one whole packet of kpekere without making a sound!

*waits for applause to die down*

Afterwards, just before I got my stop, my colleague asked, “Ngor, you didn’t buy your Chipsy again?”

I told her I bought some, and even ate one. Till now, she marvels at how I was able to eat it without making a sound. I think she even respects me more.

*waits for second round of applause to die down*

Anyway, that’s how I discovered my superpower (silent kpekere chewing) and that’s how I got spoilt. Suddenly, I was too good for public transportation. I would sit in my front seat, with my seat belt, and look upon other poor passengers in Danfo buses, feeling sorry for them as they were packed like sardines in those tiny buses.

Fast forward some months later and one evening, I realized that I had become an unabashed car chaser and colleague harasser (When will you be ready to leave? What time is your husband coming? Must you pick up your child from daycare? When I was two I could find my way home from daycare… and so on and so forth) On so many days, I would be stuck in the office because I can’t go home till someone else is ready to go home. And it’s not like it’s a productive kind of waiting. The internet has been terrible recently so it’s not as if I can download good quality porn while I’m waiting. In the end, by the time I get back home, I am exhausted from sitting around and waiting.

So, I made up my mind to grow up. Ebola has gone and there’s nothing to be afraid of except some body odour, sweat and a lot of shouting/arguing between bus conductors and passengers. So, far, it’s been a living nightmare. Nothing will make you hate life more than being squished between two ugly ass men/toads who sit with their legs wide open and tell you to “ask your oga make im buy moto for you na, if e dey pain you.”

Happy new month people… maybe tomorrow I’ll gist you about how I got married last week 😀

My country people…

                 How una dey? I’m ok. I’m back at work now. Not surprising, my two short weeks of annual leave flew by. I spent my days faffing around the house naked, eating popcorn and drinking Snapp. I can count the number of times on one hand that I had a proper bath. I saw a couple of movies and visited one friend, but nothing special happened the entire time. I’m happy I rested though.

            I finally resumed at work and for the first three or four days back, I struggled to settle in. I was like a ghost of myself, coming out of my cubicle only when it was lunch time. I missed my house, my bed, I missed my Tv, I missed my microwave popcorn, and most of all, I missed my Snapp. It got so bad that I had to check Google to find out if there’s a medical condition for people who have a hard time getting back to work after being away from the office. The only condition I saw was for pregnant women, and contrary to the size of my stomach, I am not pregnant.

Naturally, there was a pile of work waiting for me on my desk… two weeks’ worth of work. I was so lost!

           But, I’m fully back now… and it’s like I never left. Quite a bit has happened since the last time we spoke. The first major thing is I got baptized! 😀 Me and about twenty other people registered for baptism in church, we took the classes and then, on the 1^st of November, we drove to a hotel swimming pool and got baptized. It was a really big deal for me because I’m the only one in my family who hasn’t been baptized by immersion.

          The pool was disappointing because it wasn’t clear blue water like in holiday brochures. Honestly, it looked like a pond for rearing catfish but we were assured that the water was clean. After I was immersed, the heavens opened and out came a white dove. Then the voice of the Lord spake and said thus,

“Oops… I thought this was someone else, with whom I am well pleased.”

The dove pooped on my head *splat!* and flew away…  :’(

            The second gist is that I am now a church worker. I have gone from occasionally cleaning church to being a full-fledged church worker. I am finding it so difficult because church people are humans, and humans are not perfect. I have to keep reminding myself of that. So, when my department head starts whining about every.single.bloody.thing, I have to remember that church people are not perfect people.

             My church job is not hard. All I do is stand by the gate, smile at people like a crazed mo’fo and scream ‘Good morning! Welcome to church!’ The idea is that our smile(s) can brighten someone’s day or change someone’s life. I don’t think it works, but what do I know? If anything, I feel we are too many greeters and our greeting gets awkward for a lot of people. There’s one lady who likes to hug people, and another who insists on shaking people’s hands. So you can actually see people get confused about whether or not they should hug everyone else after the first hug, or shake everyone or just smile and nod their heads in acknowledgment.

             I’ve even started to suspect that some members dodge us… The Crazy Greeting Ladies. If there was a back door, they would probably go through there. Sometimes, we catch poor, unsuspecting people unawares, usually first-timers. They get checked by security and as soon as they step in through the gates, they are assaulted by our ‘Good morning! Welcome to church!’. At this rate, one day we will shock a high BP sufferer into a stroke… ( ._.)

             My first day on the job, I got to hold the tray of sweets. No one told me I wasn’t allowed to lick any so by the time we were going in for the service, half the sweets were gone and I had minty fresh, Vicks Lemon Plus breath… ( ._.) Since then, I haven’t been allowed near the sweet tray 🙁

             Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to handle some personal stuff. Some days I can deal, other days I just can’t. I try, but I can’t. And it’s sad because on Sunday morning and Wednesday evening you’re in church, you’re being told to always confess positively. You mustn’t speak negative things into your life… In the kingdom of God, there is no such thing as depression. So you proclaim all the positive bible verses you know;

Philippians 4:19 My God shall supply all my needs…

Psalm 121:7 The Lord shall preserve me from evil…

Songs of Solomon 4:5 My breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle… ( ._.)

…but deep down, inside you, you know how unhappy you are. Your  needs are not exactly ‘met’, there are evil people around you and your breasts are nothing like fawns… in fact, they look like they are headed straight for your belly button.

               The year is almost over and I’ve accomplished nothing *sigh*

               Have a perky lovely week darlings.

My country people!!

Good morning. How are you guys doing?

For two nights in a row, I had nightmares… some Freddy Kruger type shit 🙁

The first night, I actually woke up in tears and fear did not allow me go back to sleep. I called my friend and told him about it and he kept assuring me that everything would be fine. It was 12:45am and my call had woken him up. I could tell he was tired, but he stayed on the phone for a while and even prayed with me. After that, I got my bible, brushed off the cobwebs and read a few Psalms.

I felt a lot better, but I still didn’t go back to sleep. Around 2:00am, my neighbours started fighting again and for once, I was grateful for the noise. Before then, everywhere was dark and quiet. All batteries – phone and laptops – had died and there was nothing to entertain myself with. Their fight was the usual “Baba Elijah you must kee me today!!”… “You go pack commot for here today”… “If you no commot, know say my name nor be Baba Elijah”. The rest was in Yoruba.

The whole time, I’m just lying down there thinking of poor Elijah. I’ve seen him a few times before. The kid is no older than two. Also, I was wondering what baba Elijah’s name was before they had Elijah.

There are four people who stay in that tiny room; baba Elijah, Mama Elijah, Mama Elijah’s sister (let’s call her Aunty Elijah) and Elijah himself. The owner of the house is dead so his industrious brother got a lotta plywood and boarded up the entire house, dividing it into tiny rooms which he rented out to all sorts of people. It seems like hundreds of people live there…

Anyway, the fight was nothing unusual, but you have to wonder; what the hell causes a fight in the middle of the night? Then last night’s dream wasn’t as bad as the first, but it was scary enough.

My annual leave started on Tuesday (YAAAY!!!). So far, it’s been ok. On Tuesday, I went to Lagos Island market. A friend gave me funny directions so I got lost almost as soon as I got there. And I hate to ask for directions. I’ve had countless bad experiences after asking Nigerians for directions and I vowed to never do so again. What I do now is, I check Google maps or I just sort myself out somehow. On Tuesday, it felt like I was going around in circles cos I kept going back to the same street. And it didn’t help that the sun was scorching.

I used to judge people’s direction-giving skills based on their appearance. I would see someone and because he looks well put together, nothing at all like a rapist or serial killer, I would ask him for directions. In the end, I get “lost-er” than I was to begin with. I don’t even know which is worse – the guy who has no idea where the fuck I’m heading, but because he doesn’t want to admit that, he tells me to “just keep walking straaaaaight”. He will even stretch his hand out for emphasis. And I, being a trusting mumu, will keep walking straaaaaight… walking… walking… walking… till I see a “WELCOME TO CHIBOK” sign.

Or is it the group of guys who jump at the chance to help who they think is a lady in distress? You mistakenly ask one for directions, and like five or six gather you. They inhale deeply, push their chests out and start asking stupid questions like “Which side of Balogun are you going? Is it the market side or the side where they sell things?”

(-____-)

Anyway, eventually, I found my way. The annoying thing is, the place I was going wasn’t too far from my perfume shop!! It was just from a different entrance…

Yesterday, I almost beat up a really short guy at GTBank. He was chewing gum like a ho’ and attending to me like I was irritating him. The nerve! I wanted to strangle him… then time-stamp his corpse so that the coroner will have no doubt about his time of death.

I think I have gotten too used to ATM machines and online platforms. ATMs show more warmth than a lot of these bank people. And the ATM lady’s voice is nice… even when you don’t have money, she doesn’t say it out loud. She just writes ‘Insufficient funds’ on her screen and gives you back your card.

That’s my leave so far- getting lost in Balogun and almost committing murder.

I am tired as hell, but I’ve got some errands to run so I gotta go.

Have a great weekend darlings!!