Monday, May 25, 2009


Its been about 6months since d last time i blogged. im still alive (as for those who give a f***). too many things going on in my life. ill be back soon tho... nd of course, ill b back stalkin all ur blogs....

Thursday, November 27, 2008


Its my Birthday tomorrow.not so excited tho. have exams tomorrow..... so im gonna be ________ (insert age). all those who know me r nt allowed to guess.... gotta go nd read. luv y'all....

Saturday, October 25, 2008

How Have I lived Without U

I really dunno how ive lived without u
Three years is a long time
I loved u so much and I don’t think ill love any other d same way

Three years ago, I thot ild probably die if anything ever happened to u

I remember our last dance
didn’t know it was going to b d last, but cherished every moment of it cos it meant u were happy and didn’t care bout ur illness at that time.

I remember the time u had hypoglycemia and went into a coma right before our very eyes…
How my mum drove really fast and took u to the hospital. How we cried our eyes out outside the emergency room. 
How I prayed day and night for u to get well soon
How I was losing my mind.
How u had to be flown in a helicopter to St. Nicholas Hospital.

I remember u coming back home two weeks later saying u didn’t even know wat happened or didn’t even feel any pain which made u start talking bout death and how unaware u were.

I remember when I offered to give u one of my kidneys
U turned d offer down.
If I had to do it all again, ii wouldn’t even give it a second thot.

U had 3 kidney transplants, 2 in India nd one in St. Nicholas
I remember the day after u came from the hospital,
Armed robbers came to the house nd threw boxes on u even though u told them u just had an operation.
The best they could tell u to do was to lie on the bed and they kept throwing boxes on u.

I remember when the kidneys failed and u had to go for dialysis every week.
That was when I told u in secret I wanted to give u mine.
I pleaded nd pleaded like I was the one who needed it nd was suffering
U declined.

I remember plucking out ur grey hairs with tweezers
It seemed like such a task then, but now I miss doing dat.

I remember the first time I saw u cry.
It was when my brother was leaving for school after he had come for his first holiday since he left.
How u loved him so much!

U loved us all the same, but I was the one who u carried all the time

How can I forget the bed time stories????
Those that ur mother told u when u were little.
How u made sure u never repeated some nd when u did, we never failed to tell u.

How u usually wake my sister up in the night to cook for u when u were hungry or ur blood sugar was low.

How much of a good cook u were.
My friends always came to visit us, having in mind dat u cooked ur special delicacies every Saturday cos we were always home from school nd u were always home from hospital.

I remember the first time I saw u in the dialysis unit… I cried my eyes out.

I remember the time the doctors in Nigeria said u had cancer.
My mum was too scared to tell u instead took u for general check up in London and they saw absolutely nothing like cancer.
Dat was when she told u and u got back to the Hospital in Nigeria nd cursed the living hell outta the doctor.

50% of the time, u were battling one ilness or the other. Travelling up and down

U made me grow up really fast.
Giving u shots of insulin from time to time to help regulate ur glucose level.

I remember u used to go against doctors orders nd eat all the native foods nd then u start itching.

I remember u looked older dan ur age nd every one thot u were my mums father nd not her husband.

I remember u saying u were tired of it all but ull stay here cos of us and my mum.

I remember the last time I saw u.
I wish I had seen u in a better condition.
I remember, u were in the Intensive Care Unit.
Everyone was crying.
We had to be taken out unless im sure I would’ve passed out.

My mum had to go back with us cos we drove down to lagos but she flew back the next morning

I remember the day u died.
My grandmother was staying with us cos u nd mum were in Lagos.
I had just finished holding ur picture nd crying cos I missed u. It was 7pm then
My aunty visited nd I remember asking her if ur drugs had come from India and how u were.
She said u were fine. She left nd came back 5 minutes l8r
She then said everybody should sit down.
At dat moment, it dawned on me.
She then told us dat we must b expecting to hear this.
We were then glad dat u had gotten better nd probably coming back home.

She then said u were dead.
She tried to be strong but she wept.
My grandmother wept immediately.
One of my sisters vomited, the other just looked outside.

I just sat on the floor and kept thinking.
Thots flooded my head.
I thot I was dead
I was going crazy
I didn’t cry
I couldn’t cry
I was just in denial.
I never thot id react this way
I never thot u were going to die so I didn’t ever think of my reaction.

The man dat used to carry me.
The man dat took care of me like no other.
Where is dat man??????

Dead? How can. It isn’t possible.

I refused to believe. I just kept saying “what is happening!”

I was in a trance.

I came out from it.

I sang a song dat we used to sing together. I would sing asking him if he’s okay.
He’d sing telling me he’s okay.

I sang and sang and no one replied.
I tried to believe it was cos he was in lagos.

Pple thot I had gone mad cos I refused to cry.

I kept singing and then it dawned on me dat, he was never going to sing back. NEVER!!!!
That was when I broke down nd wept.
I wept.
I wept, not like im weeping now, but like ive never wept in my life.

I cried for hours.

My mum returned the next day.
We refused to eat, they forced me, I vomited and kept vomiting after every meal.

News had already spread, so many people visited.

Pple who had parents nd spouses and all came to say “I understand wat u r going through”
Understand wat???????

U cannot understand when u havent been in my position.
U cannot understand when u havent felt this much pain.

I ate only for survival, like a spoon of food nd lots of water.
I looked like a corpse.
Anorexic models didn’t have anything on me then
I lost a lot of weight.

Everyone was stressing on how to break the news to my brother.
My mums friend in London had to.
When he was told, he said he knew already cos pple who didn’t call him usually started calling him, asking bout him, he knew sumtin was up.

He waited everyday by his fone.
Waiting for my dad to call around the time he usually does.
When he wouldn’t receive any fone call, he still hoped..

He also dreamt my dad came back to life.
He believed it was gonna happen.

He waited and waited.
On the burial day, he still waited for it to happen.
He realised it wasn’t going to happen when he was lowered 6ft under.
My brother rested his head on my back and for the first time since forever, he wept. My back was soaked with his tears,

He had mad love for my father nd d feeling was mutual.
My dad loved him like no other.
My dad made us believe he loved us all the same but u could tell the love between him nd my brother was a special one.
His only son from my mother.

Moving on hasn’t been easy.
I dream of him sometimes and always have the same conversation with him
I never see him sick, always the healthy man I knew years ago.
I always tell him “I thot u died. Y did u die?”
He always replies “I didn’t die. Im resting . Cant u see how good I look?”

Im glad u r resting.Im glad mum is trying her best to make u proud.
Im glad u were in my life. Afterall, I wouldn’t have loved u if I didn’t know u.

Couldn’t really share the whole story cos summarising the past 10yrs or more of my life will be a novel.

Sunday, September 7, 2008


Damn!!!! Didnt even know i put up dat post.

Neways, i left naija for america like 2 weeks ago. still have 2 weeks to go. Left warri to lag. Met up with  a blogger( dont really want 2 talk bout it tho). Was supposed to leave the next day, got to the airport, the f***ing airline was overbooked. they offered 700 euros in voucher and 600 euros cash to be collected in "frankfurt" and also offered to put me (notice not "US") in a hotel. Omo, i grabbed the cash, went back to my uncles hotel and chilled till the next evening.

Got to the airport checked in and did all other procedures.The lady in customs who was supposed to check my luggage didnt cos according to her, i looked like agbani and she was giving me "presidential checking"...In my mind, i just kept saying " No money for u".... Btw, i dont even look like agbani at all.. we have only one thing in common height.

We boarded and like one hour into the flight, a naija woman started cursing out a german guy (could tell from his accent).. The guy sat beside her nd they kept exchanging words until they started to get physical. An airhostess came to seperate them but it had already gone outta control. So they had to move the lady to another seat. She kept screaming "I will slap u"... " I will show u"..

One question.... Nigerians, do we have to show our "jaguda" skills everywhere we go??? I just wonder

We got to frankfurt and we entered a shuttle that took us to the arrival lounge.We were w8ing for other passengers, when all of a sudden i turned to look at a nigerian woman. Wat was she holding????? cooler, foodflask, whatever y'all call it. NIGERIANS!!!!!!!!!. i love u guys sha..... but dont u guys think dat was too much???????. Anyways we got to the arrival lounge and my connecting flight was in another terminal. One nigerian guy dat came to pick someone up from the airport started chatting me up. He said he wanted my no, bla bla bla. i had to ask him which no he wanted.. he said my nigerian no. i nor just answer am.

B4 i fool myself, it was my first time going to America with lufthansa. Usually go with Brutish Airways cos Im a club member nd sometimes i get free tickets, when i have miles nd most of the time i go through london.

So this aiport was kinda strange.My terminal was A57 and i was in terminal D or so. I had to follow the signs and got to a train station. I one faint!!!!! ah ah. so i finally understood wat was happening. i entered the train. The next stop was  A1. So ill have to sit for over one hour or so until i reach 57. all these thoughts were running through my head. I feel so stupid now. so i got off @ A1. i really dunno wat i was thinking or wat was pushing me. i got to A1 and so all the other signs.

Apparently,A1 stands for 1 through 60 or so. so i had to pass through security. This lady molested me.. I need to sue her for dat. She didnt leave any part of my body ""un-grabbed"". she grabbed my..... ill leave dat for y'all to decide.

Anyways after the lady was done, i went to cash my money oo.altogether, it was $800 dollars or so. (d money don finish nd i have no idea how i spent it).I waited for almost 3 hours before we left for dallas.It was like a 10- hour flight and i got airsick. nearly even puked.

The lady dat sat beside me was very nice. she was white. She was really interested in the nigerian culture nd all although i know she didnt understand most of the things i explained to her like native food, languages... The food on the plane was NASTY. i thot i was the only one who didnt like it until becky (the lady beside me) confessed to me too.

Anyways, got to dallas, went through immigrations collected my luggage and went outside nd saw my aunty. She was so excited (yea right!!). 


                              PART 2!!!!!!

To cut a long story short, my aunt started treating me like a house help. She had an adorable son. really really cute. i turned into his babysitter overnight. Y'all shouldnt get me wrong i really dont mind cleaning her house, clean after her nd all dat shit. wat i have a problem with is the fact dat, she screams @ me.

Ive never been maltreated in my life... well not to this extent. i actually despise her now.cant believe we r related.

i refuse to believe.....

shes my mums sister 

my mum put her where she is today.( i h8 d fact dat i have to say this. sounds like im a bitch but it just has to be said)

helped her when she was pregnant after one miscarriage. (it was really serious and my mum had to leave her job to take care of her)

so much love for a person can change in such a short period.

Shes like a chameleon.

*Im really tryna make this concise*

She made a 360 degree turn when my mum arrived 3 weeks l8r. she turned back into the woman ive always known. wats up with all these relations sef.

I left for my sisters school for about a week. Dat was the true definition of "a holiday".

I found out my sister feels the same way bout my aunt too.She(my sister) doesnt even visit her anymore.

Met one really cute naija boy in frankfurt. Yoruba boy to be precise. He was on my flight to naija. He asked me the time we were arriving. didnt really talk to him much on the flight cos i sat next to some indian guy who was going to accra.

I asked the indian man to sit inside so i wouldnt trouble him too much if i wanted to get out. This guys started narrating how he broke his leg in 1960....... i nor wan hear plenty talk. i kept apologising to make him stop talking but he made sure he told me the whole story of how he broke his leg in africa nd all. i just tire.

Got to naija, the whole atmosphere nearly made me go mad. u for see naija idol dey waka for road with pant and bra.

Anyways... "Yoruba boy" was a typical gentleman.He did everything humanly possible to make me relax cos i was kinda stressed, travelled alone, didnt have anyone to talk to nd all.

Just one tiny(maybe not so tiny) thing sha, he introduced me as his "sister" to another lady he met on the plane.

He helped me carry my luggage on the trolley he got for me. he just helped me out generally sha. nd i had excess nd heavy luggages.we exchanged numbers nd parted ways.

Anyways long story short, My holiday kinda sucked. Kinda enjoyed it too. miss my little cousin like crazy... 

Missed blogville like crazy too.Guess y'all missed me too?? (not!)

P.s: Part 1 was written when i was still in dallas. just wrote part 2 now.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Dunno where 2 start.

Friday, August 1, 2008


I got my nails done recently. My aunty, L got me to do it cos she did hers. She feels we look alike (WE DONT AT ALL) and cos of dat, she always wants us to do stuff together. I’m even gonna be her CBM(Chief Bridesmaid/Maid of honour) at her wedding sometime this year.Im so happy she's getting married. i met the best man already and he told her (my aunty) dat she made the right choice choosing me as her "CBM"(thanx to oluwadee). The BM got my number on the day of my aunties introduction and it has been love talk since then.

"PL" i can see u r hissing like a woman there. mcheew!. Click here to enlarge pic. u know im new here.

Hope y'all love my nails oooo. yes. na by force!!!. The scar on one of my fingers was from one of our area movements, the ringing of bottles on the heads of people when fuck up. lol.

Anyways back to the main post. Since i was little, we've always had maids. the very first set of maids i can remember were very cruel. Cant really remember the whole story though but i can remember some events dat took place. 

Agnes and Jacinta (real names) were always at loggerheads. Agnes was the nanny to take care of I and my brother while Jacinta was the nanny to take care of my two sisters and my step sister who was staying with us then. My mum and dad were never home so they always got to do whatever they wanted. I remember i used to always want to bite my nanny's breasts(not boobs) whenever she was changing. Not like i was deprived of breast milk oo. i think i should put up my baby pic so u can see how healthy i was. 

One day, my bro was performing some of stone cold's(y'all can remember him right?)moves we just watched on wrestle mania on me. we were taking it in turns and we'll fight with all our strength but my bro always beat s**t outta all of us combined. He was the only boy so he never had any other to play with so we were used as objects to let out his frustration( i think).

My sister then ran into the room to alert us that a battle had ensued between the two maids, after a heated argument.we then rushed to the scene. My brother and sisters left for the room, leaving me there.Filled with awe, i gazed at both of them. Clothes started flying off. Jacinta was beating Agnes mercilessly. They were fighting behing the washing machine. im still amazed how i can remember this.

All of a sudden, Agnes screamed "Naija Idol, Naija Idol bottle bottle". I dunno wat pushed me but i went to the kitchen store and got her a brown bottle(probably maltina or sumtin). From a safe distance, i stretched out my hands and gave her the bottle.she was already braless when i gave her the bottle. The next thing i heard was the sound of the broken bottle.Immediately, me and my big head ran away. i went to tell my bro and sisters but they couldnt care less. They were having their own royal rumble there. Wetin una want make i do. I joined in the battle against my brother.I dont know how they stopped fighting, but i think they got tired when they noticed that we were too little and didnt care(i did) if they died. 

When my dad came, i was the first to run and I told him what happened, including the part that i gave her a bottle (i nor get sense then na). Immediately, my dad sent them packing.

Our next maid, her name was Bridget( real name). The dry cleaner Akpan across the road was her boyfriend. We caught them making out once. She was okay, except for the fact that she wouldnt give us food if we didnt call her mummy. We did wat we had to do.One day, we all planned/agreed dat we were nto gonna call her mummy again. they all put me, with my big head at the forefront. I then ran to her and shouted "Bridget!!! I want food now". she beat me nearly die. My siblings ran away and my sister rode her bike (BMX 2000) to my dad's office. 

The Door bell rang and my dad came in and asked wat had happened. I then narrated wat had happened with some salt and pepper added to the story. i then went behind my dad. My dad scolded her and we all laughed and started making faces. I then started the "good for u" face. u know the one where u use ur index finger and drag ur cheeks down. what is it called in English Language. Blogville help a sister out. My dad then sent her packing.

it was a norm for my mum to come back and be told that my dad has sent "her househelp" packing. All she had to do was to get another one

After Bridget was Monsurat. Monsurat was a real village girl. she was put in Pry 2 when she came. She was one of the oldest in her class. the first term, seh came 1st, second term 1st and third term "1nd". she was just too dumb. Due to boyfriends dat she started having in school, she came 22nd. the cancelled the 2 in front and changed the last 2 to 1 and left the "nd". my mum then went to her school and found out that it was 22nd and she changed it. She was sent packing after she started stealing

After Monsurat was Comfort. Comfort was calabar(no offence to calabar peeps). she had difficulties expressing herself cos she couldn’t really speak English Language. The only thing we understood was when she explained what happened to her neck. Comfort was light skinned(thanks to bleaching cream) and her neck was green. when asked by my sis wat happened to her neck, she said dat cockroach ate her neck. That was/is the most irritating thing ive seen in my life. Comforts neck made us lose weight. We didn’t ever eat her food and when we managed to eat, if she ever passed when we were eating, I and my sisters will look at each other, go under the dining table, throw up and put the food back on the plate. we never ate because anytime she gave us food, she always passed to go into the kitchen to do one thing or the other and we kept throwing up all teh time. The final straw that broke the camels back was one morning when we called her for morning devotion. she refused to wake up. She was probably depressed due to our reaction to her neck. Me and my two sisters were now the madams of the house because my brother had gone to high school in London and my stepsister had gone back to her mothers house. 

We then went to her room to drag her up. she didn’t budge. we then went to the living room to get cushions and pillows. we went back to her room and beat the living hell outta her. I was shouting "Comfort! (conc naija accent) i tell u to come pray u nor come eh? u go c urself today". all of a sudden, she got up and started fighting back. all our weapons were exhausted. All the years of training that we got from my bro was not wasted. we fought karate, tae kwon do, jackie chan, any move u can think of. i think we just let out our frustration of the rotten neck on her. we beat her mercilessly. She packed her things immediately and left. When my mum and dad returned, we told them that she refused to pray and she said dat she was tired of our morning devotion (we were little then now. free me abeg).

After comfort was oluchi. Oluchi was a little girl, but her main problem was that she was a BIG THIEF. That girl carry award for stealing. They brought her from the village immediately b4 we left for summer. The first day she came, she used water from the freezer to wash plates cos she thot the tap wasn’t working.

My spirit didn’t really agree with her so we were not that close. She was close to my sister who used to take her everywhere, to places and all. That was probably why she stole only my things and left theirs. When i came back, i got her lovely things from Primark (she go know say na Primark nd yes i shop @ Primark. My papa nor b governor, even if sef). This heartless girl, went ahead to steal my wristwatches, ear rings, PANTIES (as if they will size that her small yansh. she would have probably tied it at the two sides. *hiss*). We only found the panties when my mum was searching her things after she was asked to leave. My mum then asked if i wanted it. eeeew!. Wetin I wan use am for again. At least she can boast that she has la senza or benny dee panties that’s if they even know wat it is in the village. I wan even stone her grab head with the matching bra as if e go size her agbalumo (lemon, lime) breasts. i vex mehnn. Through my investigations, i realised that shee smuggled the stuff out when she was sent to buy something by my folks cos her aunty who brought her, lived nearby. her sister was also taken to be a maid for my grandparents, she insulted my grandparents and absconded with her lover. they later found her and sent her back to the village.

After Oluchi was Nike. Nike was the sexiest housemaid we've ever had. she used to wear all sorts of short skirts, exposed all her breasts and all. Our electrician (a married man) started chasing her. She didn’t like him at all (dunno y).She was very rude and saucy.If that girl hold ground with u eh., u go ask who be madam pikin and who be maid. Nike was sent packing after she confessed to my mum that my aunt’s husband came and was forcing her to sleep with him but she didn’t agree.

.Some men r shameless. My mum had to send her packing cos my aunty is the hot tempered type and anytime she(my aunty) comes to my house, she always screams at Nike cos of her sluggishness. So whenever she shouted at Nike, Nike always rolled her eyes at her. The disrespect was just too much so my mum had to send her away b4 my aunty killed her or my aunty got to find out. Till this day, my aunty still doesnt know bout her husband and Nike.My aunty’s husband has a special case of womanising. I c him around town with some nasty girls. Story for another post.

After Nike was Mama Love. She was an elderly woman, her problem was that she was a nymphomaniac. How do i know this???. She always talked about sex. She can see pomo(cow skin) and she'll tell u it looks like Brocos(d**k). One day, it was raining and she said she was cold. She then proceeded to say in an old squeaky voice; "If na the time when I dey hawk plantain, i for don go house under this rain and me and my husband for dey wariakpo(urhobo word for enjoyment), dey do the action dey go".lol. her exact words. i dont think i can ever forget her

Mama Love was a very nice woman and she made delicious urhobo food. One day, she finished cooking one bad ass Banga Soup, heated in the native pot for my dad. Me being the long the long throat I am, joined in the food. My dad then called her to tell her to take the fish from the soup and put it in the microwave cos it wasnt hot. I must say dat naija idol's family be thermo cool. we love hot food wiith lots of pepper and spice.

So Mama Love came and put her hands into the food, collected the fish and carried it in her hands to the kitchen. I and my dad lost appetite. My Dad then called up my step brother to come from his house and eat. the guy munched the food down. He was amazed at my dads generosity and he called me to ask wat happened to the food dat my dat left it with fish.i just told him that he just lost his appetite cos he waited for the food for too long. Mama Love got tired of the job and left.

The next one was a cook. he used all my dads dry fish to cook pepper soup. He also used onions to cook pepper soup. My dad sent him packing the day he resumed work and paid him N500. Urhobo men!!!.lol

We've had so many other cooks, maids, nannies too numerous to mention...

P.S: Thanx LG for asking of my mum. she is fine although she lets out her frustration on me these days. Shell work nor easy. I love her to death.

Special thanx to ynot! for Mogbono feli felizing me. That song is the s**t.

Thanx everyone for stopping by. Really appreciate it.


Tuesday, July 1, 2008

So sorry!

hey. wats up y'all?? im so sorry ive not been here for a while. i really have no excuse.whatever jo. ive had two other posts that i was meant to put up but i couldn't finish them and it wouldn't make any sense putting them up right now cos they were meant that particular moment.

i was in lagos last week for the american visa. left on monday evening.Got to lag, some guy dat had been staring at me throughout the flight, was chatting me up and asking if the girl(lady) wiv me was my mum. sure it was.my mum can pass for my sister. seriously, especially when she wears certain outfits like jeans unlike the wrapper and gele and all.During our stay in lag, my mum had to see someone in the british council concerning her colleague who he tried to help. the person had nt met her b4. we then get off in front of the building and my mum calls the guy.me, being a hand bag, i got off wiv her. the guy then tells her dat he's only allowed one visitor, so we cant come inside but he'll come outside to see us. we were then waiting outside, i saw this guy come outta the building, searching for someone and im like "mummy he's the one". the man then gets his fone and starts making a call. at this point, i was really pissed cos, i knew he was the one and my mum refused to listen to me.my mums fone starts ringing, she picks it up, its d man, they look at each other for a while and keep turning around to search for themselves, i just stood there, really pissed.they start explaining their positions for each other until they finally saw themselves. we then get there and the man starts shining his 36 abi na how many self??.he then says dat he was expecting to see a very fat woman dat with two wrappers wrapped around her waist. he then goes further to tell me dat im really lucky to have a beautiful mother. im like yeah right, tell me something i dont know(okay y'all know i didnt say that out but my expressions said it all).watever jo.

The next day, we left the hotel by 8am, we searched all around lagos for a UBA bank to pay the visa fee, the driver didn't even know where any was. he could hardly even speak english language and we had him for the whole day (that was tough).My mum finally found a UBA bank, went in to pay, news flash, they do not accept dollars(it was written dat all payments should be in dollars), she didn't have up to the specified amount in cash, there was no Bureau de change anywhere around and it was cows and elephants (dry joke). the driver, had to give my mum the money, so she'll him back when she finds any bureau de change. watever. this gist is getting to boring self.

we got to the embassy at about 10am. at this point, the rain was worse. immediately I and my mum got outta d car with one dead umbrella, some boys just came to rush us and they were like "madam madam, passport, passport, original passport". i was kinda confused cos it was raining.these ibo boys (i could tell from the way they pronounced "naira"), then held one really large umbrella (that recharge card umbrella now. ehen dat 1) over my head and took abi na snapped the passport. long story short, the passport was very very UGLY. i looked like a "spider monkey".anyways, we then waited till 12pm for the drop-box to commence.

We didnt even know dat the drop box had started and people dat came after us were already on the line. so someone asked d security guard d first security guard and he said dat it wasnt his job(those idiots r so rude), the second guard came like 40 to 45minutes l8r. the same guy went up to him and asked, he then pointed to a line of about 50-something pple, my mum started screaming at me immediately. "run run, *insert name" ruuun". see girls start to do marathon oh, racing over hurdles and all. u know Olympics now how all those men/women dey almost tear their lap. ehen like dat. at this point, the rain was still falling heavily and she was the umbrella.so i ran under the rain while she stood where there was shelter. jokes apart, i was the first person to join the other pple who were already on the line. im 6ft tall, im not really physically fit sha but still u know, i can run, well maybe. i turned and i saw someone taking her time, swinging her hips, left to right with an umbrella. my mum. God of mercy!, at least she for follow me run small now, so she then starts telling pple, “excuse me, my daughter’s in front”.
No phones, bottles, etc were allowed in there so I had to hold my mums bag and w8 while she went to drop off the passports and form and we were asked to return the next day by 6.30am. From there we went to freeman house, cos my mum wanted to do something there.

The next day, we left for the embassy and by 6.30, there was serious traffic in one area like dat. We got there a little past 7 and got in immediately cos there was no one on the “white-slip line”. we got in, the place was crowded ,. We saw two available seats and waited for our numbers to be called. 1 and my mum were 29 and 30 respectively but they were on no 95, so we actually thot they’ll get to 100 and start all over again.some guy then walked up to someone he knew behind and we heard him say he was the second person to arrive at the embassy and he had not been called and he was no 28, then started gossiping bout some certain senator dat was there and how they still go through the same process with us bla bla bla.

We were then called for finger printing abi na scanning? Abeg I dunno. The lady then shows me the spider monkey passport and asked if it was the correct pic. We were then asked to go to the inner room where we were to be interviewed. The senator and his wife, sat close to the no 28 aproko guy and the guy sat next to us and was yarning opata with my mum.they were about 5 different personnels conducting the interview, so were were called to the available one.

My mum then starts with her annoyin britico accent( I try pass her na). God abeg forgive me oh but the accent na old skool, some of y’all would feel me on this one.the lady then asks certain questions like “wats d longest u’ve ever stayed in america”, she then asks “who do u stay wiv and do u have any relations there?”. na so my mama come start oh. Yes, I have my sister there, my daughter is there too shes in *insert skool*(them nor ask her which skool oh ),*insert age*(okay she really didn’t say this one), but she just went on and on. At the end of the day, she stamped the old visa with “cancelled without prejudice” at this point I just smiled. She then says we should come back on Monday for the passport. I was so glad cos I already pictured in my head how I was going to be refused a visa (I think im crazy or rather pessimistic sometimes).

At this point, we get into the car, my mum, the prayer warrior that she is starts cabashing. For my mind I say which one she come dey cabash again, just thank God and lets go. The driver just kept chewing on his rotten stick. We then set out for balogun market. That market is another story on its own. All these ibo boys kept grabbing me, shouting, sister, sweet heart, sweet girl, aunty,iyawo(who be iyawo??? Eh??), come now, buy from me.anyways, it turned out dat, I nw even know directions in the market more dan my mum.I feel its an achievement cos dat woman started going to dat market long b4 I was born (ok maybe not dat long).
We (actually my mum) finish from the market and go back to the hotel. The next day, I was supposed to meet up wiv someone but found out that he wasn’t gonna come. So I went wiv my mum to Woolworth in adeola-odekun (wrong spelling?? I nor be Yoruba oh!) to some pharmacy there. We then went to a spa in same building. My mum wanted to wax her eye-brows (only oh. Get ur mind outta d gutters) and I was to do mine too if hers turned out to be okay. We got there and this lady covered in tattoo said we should seat and w8. Gosh her tattoos were nasty! She even tattooed her eyebrows eeeew!!!. I know it looks nice sometimes but hers were just nasty. She looked like a witch. After so much w8ing, she then came back to tell us dat d person dat does d waxing had not resumed work for dat day. Okapari oh! Me and my mama just pack ourselves waka commot oh.

We then went back to balogun market. I tried my best to make my mum change her mind but she didn’t budge. We get there, she see apples, she buys like 100.ok. Im over exaggerating once again but she buys a lot.the conversation goes thus,

Me- u don’t have to buy a lot now and u know we cant check them in
Mum- don’t u know ill give some to *insert 100 names*, my boss, ur granfather and grandmum,the driver, ur aunties, uncles, *bla bla bla*
Me-(mother Christmas!!). Okay oh. Im just saying cos im not going to carry this by hand
Mum-*fling the bag in my hands*. Ill carry it.

I then start following her behind her yansh . All of a sudden, she stops and then asks, “which road leads to the market”??? arghhh. Abeg to cut d long story short, we then get into the market. We ended up buying nothing cos she didn’t see wat she was looking for. We then rush back to the hotel and leave for the airport immediately. We get to the airport, we were already seated after having serious issues wiv our ticket. The air hostess then asks I and my mum to seat in 1C/1D when wat was written on our ticket was 1D 4 me & 1F for my mum. There was no such thing as 1F on the wareva. Then one white girl comes and says that her seat no is 1C. She was just bring rude to my mum. In my mind I kept saying “I be jaguda(were, crase) oh I be jaguda oh!, nor try my mama oh”. anyways the airhostess then asks I and my mum to go to 2 vacant seats at the back. We got to *insert hometown*(oya guess, a place dat used to have so many militants) down and I was just so vexed dat I wanted to burst her head wiv oone bottle I saw there. I just picked up the bottle and was about to break it on her head. Guards were holding me back. Okay dry joke. Big lie, but the girl was so annoying. Anyways its so nice to be back home,my own bed and my computer(ill never leave this house wivout u ever again).

Blogville Idols!!! Blogville Idols!!!. Hmm I cant w8 for some pple to sing oh.

P.S: this post was supposed to be put up sometime last week. Cant even remember the day again.