Yankee life (abuja living)

Mara ba de zua! abuja (that’s if I got it right Tho).
Anyways, that’s supposed to mean welcome to abuja. The city of bright lights, riches, plenty sugar mamas and no traffic at all.
Atleast that’s what late night NTA news , TELL magazine and series of unconfirmed capital city stories made us perceive while growing up in far eastern states and other parts of naija.
Well That’s by the way, this post isn’t just about the town in particular nor is it about how excited I was (still am) when I first moved to this place and how I felt disappointed after realising all those tales of money growing in trees, steady power supply (like it isn’t Nigeria again) and the whole sugar mama approaching you and changing your life with wealth and landed properties and all those fake stories that might make a man get lazy, nope.

This post is about the so called modern people of FCT, the increasingly everyday people that are in this quest of being seen as an intellectual and steadily restricting their ideas, humour and opinions to the fellow elite and a particular class of individuals.
You get to a social gathering and people can’t have simple convos anymore, nowadays we always feel the need to sound so professional, well read and well traveled to start up a conversation. It’s always the usual “What do you do for a living. Where do you live?” and one is always expected to respond with the Maitamas asokoros and wuse2’s . It’s almost like you shouldn’t exist if you reside in the outskirts of the town, God help you, you mention gwagwalada ,masaka or Abaji.

So It was after a long week of stress and hardwork and I really needed to unwind a bit with slow paced flavour song and a dead bottle of Heineken, I got to this sit out at some garden (luckily for me it’s Wuse2) with nicely dressed young people, to meet a friend. I introduced myself politely (as always) and I had barely sat down to start munching on the gizzard and kidney with much massa yahuza suya I met on the table , before this chic beside me started firing me with questions, “sup? Where do you work? Where do you live ? Where did you school? What did you study?” Omo!!! babe let me eat this suya first na and drop toothpick. She didn’t stop their she kept prying. “I like your knitted tie, i like your glasses, is it recommended (no, it’s shakomemded), do you read with it? Do you even read?”
“Do you this, do you that” Haba!!! Yarinya.

So I had to cut her short, and outplay her in her own game. I relaxed back, crossed my leg and fine tuned my thick igbo accent to sound a bit photosynthesis. I brought up national issues that relates to the economy and a possible review of trade policies that will put the importation of other countries’ waste products like her human hair in check, thereby affecting her imported beauty and borrowed looks personally. I asked her if she’s thought about that before. This chic didn’t utter any other word that evening.

So this is just a plea to the so called intellectual-Ankara shokoto on organic Tshirt wearing males, the so called hello-I got my-masters-from-Aberdeen-in-America single feminists and also the I’m-straight o’ but-I think-gays should-have-their-rights ranting she-males, that please when next you come to a gathering of adults (grown and obviously experienced), please try hard not to start off your conversations with individual achievements and status. Let’s exercise the shallow talks sometimes, let’s have simpler arguments like why people think custard is just an akamu that studied abroad, let’s deliberate on real matters like if ibadan chics really don’t know that some creams bleach before they purchase them, let’s talk about how power supply has improved since NEPA started supporting their power yards with generator, maybe when we are done aquatinting ourselves with these simpler matters that matter, then you can ask me what do you do for a living. Then I Just might answer you.

Nwanguma ‘Sic’ Ogo

br />
2015/09/img_3910-3.jpg

On the day before we died

On the day before we died
Ghetto felt like heaven as we grew with pride
We were kids, beautiful souls, children of the most High
Fear of evil, future heros, afraid to tell lies

Talk about harmony, I remember how we lived
Mud castles and warrior stories we strongly believed
We felt loved and walked tall no matter where we roam
I would sleep off at the waziri’s and wake up at home

Firmly, We were family, like we shared the same hut
play husband and wife, police and thief till we get caught
Then retire home to eat from our mothers’ pot

Then things changed, we hung peace on our own iroko
Strangled our love with our own hands
Placed our hope on coma
And Left with tiny chance to heal our land

Now mum says i can’t play wit them and dad nods its true
Avoid kunle, sadiq, chima and Fatima too
That They have marks on their faces unlike you
With Different religion, language, tradition and school

But On the day before we died
We had the chance to live and avoid death
Forgive ourselves and put hate aside
And finally Wash ourselves of prejudice before the sunset

This is that day.

Sic.

20140527-210550.jpg

Lust but found

Warm morning thoughts as the sunrises
’twas the 5th time in a week, he’d wake wit his legs spread apart and his eggs in her mouth
He was about to reach for her hair and maybe slow her pace, but realised his hands are cuffed to the bed.
“Stay calm king kong,it’s still my show”
Planting her wet kisses all around his pipe walls, letting his stick brush against her ripe balls. She ruled her Queendom.

On and on she went, his body and soul inert in helpless pleasure, leaving his spontaneous tool gullible, yet so erect, in a tapeless measure.
He was close , and he begged her to take all his cream.
“Not yet” she whispers.
She Gets up, he spreads wider. She reverses, turnt up, he slid inside her.
Backing him now, she made him watch her behind bounce, liking every ounce of her twerking, jerking was all he did, cos his white blood was already lurking.

he’s about to let her mercury meet his Pluto, as he grind across her lips,
the ones between her hips.
He respected her naughty guts,
she accomplished in all her plots.
She’s Succeeded in resurrecting their deepest thoughts,
And finally,

He nuts.

Lust but found.

Sic

20140321-102836.jpg

Goodnight pain (a tribute to ALUU4)

Goodnight Pain.

“thieves, thieves” he screamed, it was almost funny. Not until more voices joined the chorus as they screamed and shouted on us. We could have ran at least to save our lives, but our intentions were genuine and little did we know how the day would end.

From a handful of young men shouting and throwing questions at us, it escalated to a crowd of angry mob. There was no way we could escape this one, so we calmed down.

They pushed us around and then stripped us all. These men pulled us pants down, we were more than embarrassed, the whole community watched, I recognized few faces from the crowd. Obviously they were so afraid to say “stop”.

then the beating started, I wished it to be just a nightmare. But it was real, these men were determined. They dropped heavy rocks on our heads, they pounded our faces with large planks, blood covered our eyes, they matched and kicked us right on our bleeding nostrils, we couldn’t breathe.

“Bring tire” one of the men repeated, until they brought the tires. “Oh God!” We watched the crowd watch us, we raised hands of plea, we couldn’t speak, Some hid, some shot videos and took pictures. there was no one to stop this. This was the point we knew it was over.
We felt pain, helpless and hopeless. I thought of my siblings, I wondered how my mum would take this. She would fall apart. I begged God to hold her for me, comfort and make her strong for me, I prayed same for my friends. Then we started crying, we cried together. the tears gave us headaches. We looked up high, the sky was still. Rings of tires landed on our necks, they kept hitting us, but we were numb already.
They set us ablaze. We rolled around, tried to reach for each other, I wondered who would give up first, the fire burned our bodies. it hurt, it hurt and then it hurt.

But suddenly the pain stopped, Then I couldn’t hear any other thing, but silence. I thanked God.
the pain was over.

Goodnight pain.

RIP ALUU 4

Nwanguma Ogo Sic

20131005-083355.jpg

2face & annie (nuptial vows)

Considering the years of youth and imperfect experiences they saw. We found their nuptial vows poetic.

2Face’s Vows:
Many years ago I was farther than the eyes could see.
Now we are now in that future
When I look into your eyes, I still see
You came into my life and you lit it up
Like the sun, like the moon, like the stars
All the words in the dictionary
All the words in this world can not be enough
To say what my heart feels for you.
But all I can say is baby, my heart is like a stereo right now
And it will beat only for you till death do us part.
I love you baby.

Annie’s Vows:
My joy! My heart! My friend! My love!
I stand before you today as open as I can ever be, humbled by the light and love in your eyes.
13 years ago, I met the most amazing man on earth! I flew on the wings of that love, uncaring, unheeding! Believing firmly that you are and will always be the wind beneath my wings!
Life happened, oh yes Life happened but through it all my heart beat only for you!
My heartbreak became my greatest joy!
My strength! My life!
Day after day I am more in love with you!
When people ask me what is love! I say Love is right here! This moment! This second! Today! Tomorrow! Love is you! Love is real! Love is my eternity with you Innocent Ujah Idibia!
I give you all of me today knowing that in you and you only has this imperfect girl found perfection!!!
I do 13 yrs ago when I met you, I do 7yrs ago, I do 5yrs ago when we created our daughter! I do through all the blogs and tabloid headlines! And on this day, at this very second I stand in front of the world and I say I do take you as my wedded husband! I love you! I love you so much, so so much!!!

Bless this Union.

Nwanguma Ogo (Sic)

 

“soul beret”

I stirred the caffeine more times than I sipped.
Thoughts of my beautiful struggle filled a sense uncommon.
More like a train window that remained dusty. but I saw my destination clearly.
Am on my way to peace overlooking the outcrops of reality.
Whom I have become was obviously unplanned, but who I will be is already in the sculptors fingers.
The sound of the missiles reminded me of what forever didn’t mean.
But I let go these thoughts and then I penned.
Take this note and give her, you know who.
You don’t have to show her the scars that gave her this meal.
Nor the care that made her this real.
Don’t explain to her when she asks why the paper seem rough.
Just tell her the words were born the days I lost the gland that secretes hope.
As for you my friend? Just know that I can finally load a cartridge in the dark.
And to me, this war is Over.
Aye’

Nwanguma Ogo (Sic)

Sicily101

Goodnight Pain (A tribute to Aluu4)

Goodnight Pain

“thieves, thieves” he screamed, it was almost funny. Not until more voices joined the chorus as they screamed and shouted on us. We could have ran at least to save our lives, but our intentions were genuine and little did we know how the day would end.

From a handful of young men shouting and throwing questions at us, it escalated to a crowd of angry mob. There was no way we could escape this one, so we calmed down.

They pushed us around and then stripped us all. These men pulled us pants down, we were more than embarrassed, the whole community watched, I recognized few faces from the crowd. Obviously they were so afraid to say “stop”

then the beating started, I wished it to be just a nightmare. But it was real, these men were determined. They dropped heavy rocks on our heads, they pounded our faces with large planks, blood covered our eyes, they matched and kicked us right on our bleeding nostrils, we couldn’t breathe.

“Bring tire” one of the men repeated, until they brought the tires. “Oh God!”

We watched the crowd watch us, we raised hands of plea, we couldn’t speak, Some hid, some shot videos and took pictures. there was no one to stop this. This was the point we knew it was over. We felt pain, helpless and hopeless.

I thought of my siblings, I wondered how my mum would take this. She would fall apart. I begged God to hold her for me, comfort and make her strong for me, I prayed same for my friends. Then we started crying, we cried together. the tears gave us headaches.

We looked up high, the sky was still. Rings of tires landed on our necks, they kept hitting us, but we were numb already. They set us ablaze. We rolled around, tried to reach for each other, I wondered who would give up first, the fire burned our bodies. it hurt, it hurt and then it hurt.

But suddenly the pain stopped, Then I couldn’t hear any other thing, but silence.

I thanked, God. the pain was over.

Goodnight pain.

RIP ALUU#4

Nwanguma Ogo.

@sicily101 @dtmiil