Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

Judgment day September 26, 2010

Filed under: Abstract — afrosays @ 9:22 pm
Tags: , ,

She wouldn’t listen to my apologies because this message is a week due.

I begged her, appealing to all her sense of charity and she promised to deal with me later.

She did tell me, however, to share the withheld dispatch immediately.

I am therefore, beating this gong because AfroSays:
JUDGMENT DAY

Give him an A+

I saw the awesome throne and I was scared. As I entered the room, some guy in medieval priestly clothes had just gotten thundered at and was being assisted away by two muscular dudes in a smart uniform
Yea, it was lights, power and action – lights so bright that I could not see who sat on the seemingly endless glory seat; I just surmised that whoever did must realize how much sucking up he deserved from whatever else was in existence; I mean, the super guy was definitely worthy of all receivables – I’d have totally given him all my salary as tax returns if he had demanded it while I was alive.
Suddenly, a timeless looking man came out of all the oppressive glory. Fashionistas from my side of existence had nothing on him.”I think ten percent was fair enough tax?” He said with a little laugh. I fell on my face because I knew I was done for, realizing the fate that had befallen the priest before me. “You managed fairly well” He continued, “Give him an A+”, he called out to whoever kept score.
“But I..” I started as a protest to the undeserved pass mark I had just been awarded. I remembered going to church only on Christmas, New Years and random special ceremonies, every once in a while; being passively nice when it suited me and just living as a jack BEEP most of the time. (Here it seemed even my thoughts were censored).
I started toying with that impressive PG feature of the holy land,
“jack BEEP “,
“mother BEEP“,
BEEP hole”,
BEEP you”, “BEEP me”, “BEEP the…”
“Silence!” he thundered, eyes flaming red and blue inward like a living fire.
“One would think you were beginning to realize what this experience is really all about”
I cowered in fear.
“You children with your modern habits of free thinking insolence wrought on you by your democratic creches”
He smiled.
“I love you nonetheless”
“You scored an A+ because it’s either that or an F and it’s quite unfortunate that most of you can’t seem to get past an E-. Even your most recent spiritual geniuses only manage a D-“.
“Abraham, Moses, Paul, Ghandi et al, brilliant kids they are…”
I was about to ask what their report cards originally scored before the upgrade but I was too terrified to even look up.
“C-” I heard.
“Your goodness by me is like filthy rags but you’re my kids nonetheless”
I kind of understood as He continued with an affectionate bias.
“And what kind of father would I be not to clean you up”
I was a fool to had given up on creationism.
“Your books don’t answer every question as your inquisitive minds would appreciate but with time I would teach you what is and what is not”
“The first thing I usually teach is that I AM”. The “I AM” was pregnant.
I saw one of those yam-armed dudes approach me with the same priestly garments as the last guy
“And because you ever doubted me, You would have to put that on for a long long time.” He pointed to the ominous cassock.
I had been taught that over here, a thousand years was a day.
I looked far off somewhere to the right and BEEP! Good ol’ Abe was looking good in his heavenly attire with celestial bling, head gear and what not; My garment-to-be was a dead, patched up rag, up-close.
“Here, have your righteousness, censored to preserve some of your dignity”
“Take him away!”
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I am not a man September 20, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 9:10 am
Tags: , , , ,

I’m not feeling too good at the moment.

Work + Work + Work + More Work = Stress, MeThinks?

I explain my position to the goddess but she doesn’t seem to care. She goes on to explain to me how her peers have been doing far better than she has and how much of a bad investment I am.

I complain about the absence of health insurance benefits with this Towncrier job office.

She starts to cry.

I’m not in top shape but I’d have to be a gentleman and resume office from my rest bed, beating the lousy gong, only because AfroSays:

I AM NOT A MAN

I am not a man

Only sometimes

Many had tried to win the chief’s daughter in marriage: from top management at the company, from around his wealthy social circle, even from out of the country. I’m still wondering why he gave me a chance; Yes, I be fine boy, but I’m sure that little ego-booster of mine wasn’t even considered at all when the chief made the unspoken mental decision to let me court Beatrice.
Bashful Beatrice and I have been at it for a little over a year now and I hear the wedding bells ringing. The whole world knows we’re tying the knot soon but I haven’t actually asked the Chief for his daughter’s formally. Today, I’m in one of the five sitting rooms in his Ikoyi mansion, waiting for him to attend to the matter at hand. Beatrice is right next to me, looking for a missing pencil on the floor – being shy in the cutest way she knows how. She’s already explained to me how her family works, but I’ve never had any strong opportunities to interact with her aloof, distant parents or her uppity relatives, however, #TodayNaToday! I believe that since I didn’t get approached by the usual All-Black-Everything, two-man intimidation squad as all of her other suitors in the past had been, her father either likes or respects me.
Today is my chance to establish my real first impression with the Chief and I am determined to stand as a man with dignity even though I’m a public grammar school educated, OND holding, hustler with a humble background, and despite what Beatrice has told me about his possessive bothering on disgustingly intrusive nature.
I take a look at sweet-Bea and I’m still trying to explain to myself why the Chief favored me above other more-suitable suitors. She was his only child and the world expects at least someone of money-blood merit if royal blood isn’t immediately available. I have always felt damn lucky but today is the day to confirm my luck.
Chief finally shows up in a towel after three hours of waiting and gives me five minutes. His convex, satellite-dish-like stomach intimidates me by from time to time by peeping at me from under the towel every three seconds and beaming threatening microwave signals. I almost plead with him to stop taking those deep breaths. I however somehow summon the courage to relay my honorable intentions, all the while holding Bea’s hand in the highest tension. She seems to have escaped off with her little mind to Jupiter and her body is as cold as the Ice tea we were served on arrival.
Chief takes the deepest breath ever as if to instruct his satellite dish to launch a target-seeking missile to assassinate me on my way home for even daring to make such an unbecoming request. He looks straight at me.
I try, sincerely I do to return his gaze but I cannot be a man. After 0.000075 seconds, I break gaze and start untying and re-tying my shoelaces to stop my shoes from vibrating and causing an embarrassing noise like a hair clipper. I feel fresh sweat lines break out on my back in torrents. I wet my boxers a little.
I am not a man.
That must be why he’s offering me his surname.
 

The revenge of mercedes man September 14, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 11:03 pm
Tags: , , ,

My eyes are closing and she wakes me up, then forces me to do her bidding.

She doesn’t care that work has been quite challenging lately or that nowadays, I’m all stressed out most of the time.

All she wants me to do is keep banging the gong, even if my head is banging as well.

Tired me is doing this only because AfroSays:

THE REVENGE OF MERCEDES MAN

MERCEDES MAN

MERCEDES MAN

I watched as the Mercedes eased carefully into the narrow space near the wall that defined the limits of the general parking lot which was located just outside the office building.
I smiled.
Five hundred Naira or trouble.
Seven months in this profession had taught me that neat, expensive cars were the best tippers because their owners were always very anxious to keep their babies in care of a nanny. Other car owners, however, had already given up on their dream of keeping a scratch-free car and consequently could not care less about extra care. They only paid the requisite parking fee.
Or not.
The parking fee wasn’t really requisite; it was not required by the owners of the parking lot, I required it. Every “Rent-A-Cop” type security man in Lagos requires a ‘little token’ to allow any vehicle access to the precious and scarce real estate under his care, whether the individual is a legit business customer or just another random fellow who can’t find somewhere else to keep his metal junk. We usually notify the beneficiary of the existence of a contract when he’s about to cleverly abandon his car and we wait for him to finish his business before we collect our dues.
Did I mention that we have clever punishments as well for beneficiaries who try to be smart?
I guess that’s why I expected Mercedes Man to cooperate and somehow communicate his understanding of our intangible agreement as he made for the office building in a hurry-scurry. This was the oldest trick in the book so I refused to be outdone; I caught up with him and started explaining the ‘contract’ all over.
He ignored me and walked even faster, attempting to be busy with his phone.
I ran after him and when I was close enough, I threatened his baby.
He laughed and told me to do whatever I wanted and to go to hell when I was done. I was thoroughly insulted and I let him go on ahead.
#JustSoYouKnow I did whatever I wanted so I’d be in jail till my family can raise something close to three million Naira to fix Mercedes Man’s baby.
#JustSoYouKnow The richest member of my family is a palm wine tapper.
 

#StupidStuff September 11, 2010

Filed under: Abstract — afrosays @ 7:58 am
Tags:

I won’t ever disgrace the AfroMuse with all the stupid stuff I’m about to put up on this blog from today onwards.
#AfroDidNotSay oh!

STEWPID

This is true – My younger brother just asked me: “If bees make honey, do butterflies make butter?”

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Say aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! September 9, 2010

Filed under: Scenic — afrosays @ 9:40 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Hey goddess! I’m sure you know I love you because you bring the most amazing stories out of the weirdest situations.

Maybe I should get in weirder fixes?

Of course, this didn’t really happen, I’m just beating my gong because AfroSays:

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Said aaaaaaaH!

Said aaaaaaaH!

So I’ve had quite a stressful day, running all over the place and achieving everything but I’ve been too busy to attend to a very important issue.
I’m on my way home when the consequence of my one little negligence catches up with me; I’m vibrating violently in my car, cursing the sluggishly moving traffic and creatively inventing new ways to answer nature’s call while driving on the expressway. My mental attempts at getting out of this fix is giving me a migraine.
Headache.
I have plastic coke bottle in my car but I’m not sure about the volume of water in the GP tank so I immediately abandon that thought because if anything goes wrong, I’d never be able to explain to my wife why my car smells like the mattress my neighbor’s kid puts out to dry every morning.
MIGRAINE!
I consider opening my door, just a little and wetting the road through the gap but the traffic isn’t exactly a standstill, there are hawkers navigating the narrows lanes in between the cars lines and I would definitely get discovered and absolutely embarrassed.
MIGRAINE!!
I swerve to the left lane where the plants are.
I consider an absurd position where I take off my seat belt, position my body at angle 45 to the pedals (just imagine my yourself straight bodied, almost standing but in a diagonal position while driving), wind down the window and twist my torso slightly in that direction, (still moving in the goddamn traffic), one hand on the wheel, one hand on my zip, wetting the plants like a moving sprinkler, freeing my pain.
MIGRAINE!!!
I most definitely cannot park and get down because, I have too much culture to put on my blinker, park on the expressway and start pissing my discomfort away with reckless abandon.
HAMMER!!!!
To hell with culture,
All I know is I’m wetting the plants on the road divider; the world is quiet and it’s only me and the beautiful moon
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

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Surviving happy September 6, 2010

Filed under: Poetry — afrosays @ 5:01 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Sometimes you don’t understand what your soul is saying, you just know it’s saying something.

I’m hoping the AfroMuse would be kind enough to explain what she’s burdening me with.

Is there a Google jingle I can beat on the gong? I’m asking because AfroSays:

I CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY

HAPPINESS IS CONTENTMENT

I have what others don’t
I lack what others have
I choose to be happy
I’ve been faster than others
I’ve been cheated as well
I choose to be happy
Love has been wasted on me
I’ve wasted love too
I choose to be happy
I’ve stolen your smile
You can’t steal mine
Naturally, I choose to be happy

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My shameless fantasy September 4, 2010

Filed under: Abstract — afrosays @ 11:01 am
Tags: ,

Weekend morning spiritual vibes. The message is pouring in.

The rain’s pouring out so I don’t wanna do nothing.

Gotta do it because AfroSays,

MY SHAMELESS FANTASY

MY FANTASY

MY FANTASY

She’s always on my mind, that flirt; she’s my most shameless fantasy. Every time I see her, I make the most childish wishes.
Sometimes I think I’m obsessed, I definitely want to be more than friends. It hurts to accept that we’re not even friends yet.
She’s polygamous but her lovers don’t mind, they’re only hoping she won’t withdraw her favours and sometimes, when she does, they never really get over her, both genders included.
She’s quite the companion; they treat you positively different wherever she goes with you, whether it’s at the holiest church or at the skankiest party.
She won’t satisfy you but she’d make sure you can satisfy yourself.
I want her.
I want Miss OluwaNaira EuroYemi

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