I #Poko You

Dear Readalot,

I love you. Kinna. Maybe. Ugh!! I don't know. Let me think about it.
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Mortal Kombat

Dear Readalot,

I'd like to tell a tale of warriors...

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Vexalot tears his shirt and beats his chest like a chimpanzee. He runs around with his eyes wide. He's unbelievably angry. He points at the piece of scum in front of him;

Agberophobia

A few mornings ago, I, my sister, my sister-in-law, my mum and our guardian angels gathered for a quick gist/gossip session. Something came up that brought something else up, that brought something else up, that brought one gist I had kept somewhere at the back of my mind up. They had a good time laughing at me – Why shouldn’t you? :p

I used to have a phobia for agbero boys. To me, they were like the powers that be. They could do anything they wanted and get away with it. If they insulted you, you should thank them. Don’t look them in the eye. If they ask you for money, give them with a smile…and even then, don’t smile too wide. Call them ‘brother’ or ‘uncle’ if necessary. NOTE: It is ALWAYS necessary.

If you’re a regular visitor to The Rant Lot, you’ll remember I mentioned I grew up in one gangster area. I was walking in this gangster area one day, strolling by myself to go buy something or the other. On my way back home, a young man of average height stepped to me and pulled me back

“Baby.” He said. “Baby, wa now.” I looked at him. With his raggedy everything; I knew he was an agbero. Under normal circumstances, I would give the guy the evil eye, hiss and walk away. This, my brethren, was not a normal circumstance. An agbero was involved. So, I stopped and looked at him tentatively. “Sir?” I said, timidly. He looked me over and smiled. 

“Bawo ni? O ma fine gan.” He said.

“Ese Sir.” I replied and remained where I was standing. ‘He hadn’t released me’, I thought to myself.

This agbero, let’s call him Fearalot said he loved me and wanted me to be his girlfriend. I smiled politely and spent over an hour trying to explain to him that I had a boyfriend. I told him I really liked him and would have given him a chance but I was hooked. Fearalot said he doesn’t mind. He was completely willing to share me with my boyfriend. I stood there and listened to him try to convince me that he was the one for me. (If you can, picture me walking down the aisle with an agbero - *sigh*). In all that time, I was shaking with fear. I stayed, because I worried that he would find me at a later time and hurt me or maybe beat up my family -_-

At one point he asked me if he wasn’t good-looking enough. “Se mi o dun to ni?” He asked, pointing at himself. I looked him over, funny cloths and all and told him he was extremely handsome and that it wasn’t about that. After a while, I gathered a little courage and said I had to get back home, because my dad was waiting for me. He insisted he would follow me home. O_O Follow me home ke?? He walked with me until I was almost home. I let him walk with me.

Another Rule – Never tell an agbero not to walk with you if he wants to. However, I stopped and begged him to go back. I couldn’t afford to have all those guys I had been forming for in my area, see me with him.

Fearalot looked at me and asked how he would be sure that I would come see him like I had ‘promised’. I had this bandana on my hair that I had recently bought and was in love with. I took it off and gave it to him. Told him I would find him and come get it. Finally, he turned and left.

The fear of agbero is the beginning of idiocy (-_-)

Yours truly, Rantalot.

The Good, The Bad and The Sad

This past weekend was probably my longest this year…(taking a minute to see if I’m exaggerating)…Nah, that’s about right. It was an incredibly long weekend. Grab yourself a cup of cold lemonade and settle down for the gist. It’s a pretty long one. For those living in Ajegunle, Sango or Ikorodu, zobo’s fine. All’s well that ends well (-_-).

One of my mentor’s sister had waited on God for about 15 years for a baby…and then...she had...wait for this ...TRIPLETS. O_O God can like to show Himself innit? Okay, so that’s where the story begins. She and her husband got this miracle, and my friends and I planned to go with my mentor to celebrate with his sister in Abuja. We also decided a road trip would be loads of fun. So we set out.

The bus moved off with us the passengers at a pretty okay pace. We were all happy and excited…Yaaay, right?? Well a few minutes after we left, we found traffic. There had been an accident. The ‘pilot’ had to maneuver his way around all the corner-corner in the area. We made a lot  of unfruitful turns. Street boys created several ‘toll gates’, each one, about 10 feet away from the next. Various cars and buses paid ‘toll-gate officers’ for passing the small corner streets. To divert a bit, the government needs to inform the people about temporary toll gates…so people can plan better ( ‘,‘).

Finally, we found a way out of the fracas and got on the free express again. We were excited again. The driver who finally had enough room to display his skills started looking for all the potholes on the road and then entered them with glee. He did this so much so that the guy sitting in the back, on the tire spot said, “I feel like nauseating.” The plenty bumps must have juggled his vocabulary around (If you don’t hear from me, be sure he read this post and kidnapped me, which would be sad, because my mum won’t pay). Several bumps and potholes later, I discovered that apart from our DNA and fingerprints, we have something else that sets each and everyone apart – Tummy growls. My tummy growled in hunger, as did all our tummies. Some in soprano, some in tenor, others completely off-key. However, the traffic had set us back a few hours; we couldn’t really stop and get some grub randomly. So we settled for gala and lacasera. I’m not crazy about gala…as a kid I would make my dad buy me like five and then eat half of one. It’s called ‘showing yourself’. Anyways, this day, I ate gala because hunger isn’t very picky. Some of the guys bought dodo ikire – dodo fried in some kinna gunky funny thing, I think – and I tried some, definitely not my thing.

The bus we went in was one that had a DVD player. Cool stuff, yea?? We asked the driver to put oyinbo film. He slid a Van Damne collection in the player. After the first movie, we all got a little tired of all the violence, but it kept going. Going that long made me wonder how Van Damne survives all of that throwing around and being thrown around.

We saw some incredible sights. Once, we saw clouds sitting on some hills. It was beautiful and I remember feeling sorry for those who don’t believe in God.

People got sleepy. One guy’s head ended up on another guy’s shoulder. I guess we’re most vulnerable when we’re unconscious (-_-). Being a princess and everything, I had to stretch my legs, so I raised them over the chair in front of me. I kept hitting the guy sitting there. If he looked at me funny, I would bat my eyelashes just so and everything was fine.

We passed Owo town in Ondo State. I saw signs stating the fact and claimed the state. After all, my father is from there. I was proud of all the hills and everything. We stopped over for a bit and someone wanted to buy recharge card. He said “EMU-TEE-EN”. I’m like “Why are you talking like that?” He said that’s how they talk. I sharply disclaimed the state.

It was a long journey, but finally, we got to our destination. We ate and slept. And there was night and there was day.

The next morning, we went to the church for the dedication of the babies. It was amazing seeing those beautiful big babies. The parents’ faces were beaming with happiness. I was astounded at how great God is. We danced. My friends and I sang. While we were getting off the rugged stage, I stepped on this spot that looked firm. And mind you, I was in one of them sexy heels you see around. I stepped on that not-so-firm spot and landed on the floor, in front of the entire church. My friend picked me up, shame and all and I smiled to my seat.

The pastor was a fervent man. I loved the passion and love he seemed to have for the church. His wife was really cool too. Had this amazing voice. Sultry. After the service, we moved to the rice and stew department. We left the reception pretty early because we wanted to go to the cinemas that evening. We got back to the hotel to rest up for a bit. I took a short nap, as did we all and woke after a few minutes. When I scanned thorough the different social networks on my phone, my heart broke.

 

Rev. and Rev. Mrs Ayodeji Cole

It was everywhere. The sad, heart wrenching news. There’d been a plane crash. Drastic. It was almost too hard to believe. Then a few minutes later, we were told that the vibrant Pastor we had encountered earlier that day, and his wife, were on that plane. The shock I felt is quite indescribable. I was stunned. Crying seemed too heavy too do. They had left three little boys behind. We heard of so many others that had gone down with the plane. Carelessness had cost many people their lives. Greed, wickedness. I wondered how horrible people with family and friends on the plane felt if I was feeling the way I was. Earlier that morning, several lives had been lost in a bomb blast. It was a sad day for the nation. Very sad day.

A few hours ago, I was talking to my dad and he mentioned that a politician also died and that he was a big big man. I told him… “When people die, there’s no big or small man.” We have to treat those around us, even if they aren’t as ‘classy’, well. We must learn to appreciate the moments we have and enjoy them. Love hard. Live well. Pray for our nation. It’s the only original home we got anyway.

Yours’ truly, Rantalot