For the past year, a group of people have been working to produce the content on this blog. A group of writers, editors, analysts, critics. A Team. And to end the year, and our tenure, we have all decided to give you one last article. Below is a set of pieces, from the people behind your favorite columns, written individually, but put up collectively. So that you can enjoy a buffet, befitting of the festive period. An all you can read buffet. So who is your favorite blog author, is it the famed SamAzing or is it the brain behind “Chronicles of the Illegally Legal”, Great Opara; find them, and read them… As you do all the rest of us.
THE FIRST DAY : WURAOLA FAGBAMIYE
CLASS OF ’17. BEAUTY QUEEN. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘SELF HELP FOR DUMMIES’
The cold bit into her feet as she walked. Cold and alone she shivered but made no attempt to run for shelter and warmth. She had her mind made up on where exactly she was going to be in the nearest future; at the bottom of the bridge buried under the waves and suffocating to death.
It had taken all her will to decide to be here. It was her only choice she repeated and tried to convince herself. She had to do it.
As she walked she removed bits of clothing’s and submitted to the cold. The scarf Bimbo had given her to commend her for returning to the social light. She tore it off as she walked. She remembered her reluctance to accept the limelight. She had shied away from it for as long as she could and with all the strength she could muster but her friends refused to leave her alone. They didn’t understand; they couldn’t. They felt she should have gotten over it by now. She was a hero in their eyes. She had escaped, one of the very few who had done so. As such, she had only agreed to make a public appearance to get them of her back. She didn’t feel like a hero, she felt empty. Like a part of her had been torn out and she couldn’t get it back. The fame and public recognition did nothing to fill the hole in her.
She spat bitterly at the ground as she remembered how she had gotten here. It started a year ago on this very bridge. She had been an on air personality at a renowned radio station. She had been on a steady rise in the industry and she had loved it. It had been a childhood dream of hers to get there. She had the career and she had just started her family. But that perfect life had been shattered a year ago.
She had been driving along the bridge after a particularly fun segment on the radio. Perhaps she could have waited at the station till it was light out but she had been eager to get home and see her family. Her loving husband and her wonderful baby. She heard a strange noise outside and as she squinted to see through the dark she saw a stone coming at her screen. Screaming she twisted the wheel as she tried to avoid it but the stone hit the screen and cracked it. Stamping on the break the car screeched and collided with the barrier. On impact her head slammed into the wheel and the air bag pushed her back. The skin above her eye broke and blood blurred her vision. Squinting through, she saw a hooded figure approaching her before she succumbed to the beckoning darkness.
She awoke to a blinding light over her and for a moment she forgot what had happened. She sat up abruptly and the sharp pain in her head brought the events to the fore. She glanced around wildly to try to determine where she was. Not recognizing anything she looked at her body. Her clothes were still on but her hands and feet were bound. The ropes dug into her skin showing that even unconscious she hadn’t been still and her captors were vicious even to have tied the rope tightly.
The door swung open to reveal a figure. She guessed this must be one of her captors. He looked nothing like the evil figure she had conjured in her mind. He was…beautiful. His hands weren’t small but he wasn’t a hulking mass either. With the ease of a fox he sprung lithely towards her and caressed her cheek. She whimpered away from his touch but he merely chuckled. ‘What do you want?’ she asked in a croaked whisper. He smiled and said ‘You’. ‘You see, I’ve watched you. I’ve observed you. You’re a creature of habit. Always leaving the station at a particular time. Taking the same route home. Doing much of the same things.’
‘I’ve called you…at the station. You always seemed so inaccessible, aloof. Always spurning my advances, always saying no. That’s how the wealthy feel. They feel they are above us, they feel they can rise above us, they’re untouchable. But I’m touching you now aren’t I?’ He chuckled again as she began to plead. ‘I almost thought I would never get to you but again, you’re a creature of habit. It was almost too easy. I want to hear you scream. I want to feel your body burn. I want to hear you beg!’ At this, he tore her clothes. She begged and she pleaded but there was no escaping him. He was everywhere.
He kept her alive, fed her and raped her. Several times she felt her body would be rent in two, other times, she pleaded for a savior. Surely her husband was looking for her? The whole of Lagos should be looking for her. But no one came. No one was there. And so she bided her time.
After what seemed like years he released her and dressed her up. She didn’t know what he would do but she had an inclination he wasn’t about to let her go. She waited and it took just a moment for his attention to shift and she grabbed her object and hid it.
He led her out at night and pushed her forward. Acting on instinct she swung out and connected the knife to his jaw. She had a moment of primal satisfaction as she watched it pass through and come out. Blood spurted as his jaw went slack. And then she was running.
She was found a few days after that. Battered and cold. Traumatized and injured. Of course there had been a search going but no one could understand just where to begin from. The man who had taken her had been quick and efficient. There was nowhere to begin from. All they could do was pray she would come back. And she had come back.
But she didn’t feel that way. She felt empty and hollow. No amount of welcome, no amount of appreciation and no amount of fame could fill her.
So she had gone away to that very bridge that everything had started from and she had decided to end it. Perhaps it made her cowardly but she could no longer face the world. She was sorry her baby would grow up without a loving mother by her side, that her husband would lose her once again, and that she would never live to fulfil her dreams.
She stepped over the barrier and looked at the waves. They seems so welcoming. They would help to wash her away. She closed her eyes as a single tear escaped and then she jumped. She fell free and true and she welcomed death.
Suicide numbers have skyrocketed this year. Among students especially. Perhaps you feel empty too, or hollow because something has happened. Remember someone has gone through what you are going through and someone else is probably going through the same thing as you are. You are not alone. You don’t have to give up. Ask for help if you feel overwhelmed. It does happen. But remember you are never alone. The person who has gone through this is closer than you think 🙂
THE SECOND DAY : OLAMIDE DAVIS
CLASS OF ’19. BOOK WORM. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘SELF HELP FOR DUMMIES’ AND ‘LAW GEEK’
What do you do after being told you have a week left to live, breathe and walk through the surface of the earth?
Sincerely I have no idea.
You really don’t know the value of what you possess till you lose it or are about to. I’m about to lose my life to this monster called cancer. Yup. Cancer. They said they found it in my lungs. Sigh.
Being the only child of my parents, this isn’t exactly good tidings of great joy.
Soon enough I’ll be gone, leaving my family, friends and a zillion other homosapiens behind. And guess what? I haven’t even made my mark on the stones of time. Or is it sand?
But really, how much can one do within fifteen years?
Well enough bluffing. Let’s get to the point. Hit the nail on the end. Get down with business. Score the winning goal. Make actual sense.
Cos there isn’t much time left and these may actually be my final words. I might as well say something smart, right?
I want you to read this and know
Know that I love Yetunde and am sorry to disappoint her so soon.
Know that my parents mean a whole lot to me as I meant the world to them.
Know that I believe. I believe in the existence of God and good.
Know that true friends are rare gems
Know that you can’t sow oranges and reap cassava.
Know that it’s okay to be sad and shed a few tears. Doesn’t make you less cool.
Know that anger is an emotion. It demands to be felt. Just don’t sin and blame rage.
Know that colour is simply black or white. Not wrong or right.
Know that you don’t know it all. Neither do I.
Know that all beginnings have endings and nothing lasts forever.
Merry Christmas and have a jolly new year without me.
It’s been indeed a swell time working with the lss blog team to deliver you with continuous doses of good stuff. A whole year gone and the ride through has been splendid. I urge you to expect and anticipate great things from the blog in the new year. God bless.
THE THIRD DAY: TAIWO FAMAKINDE
CLASS OF ’19. COOL NERD. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘STUDENT VOICES’
THE FOURTH DAY: ALAJOGUN AYOMIDE ARINOLA
CLASS OF ’19. BOISTEROUS. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘PLEASURES OF POETRY’ AND ‘NEWS AND EVENTS’
Every beginning has an ending
There are many stories pending
Just cruise along with me
Raise your voices and sing
For I’m about to drop some dope bars
As I drop my pen for the year on this pleasant 12th day of Christmas
Every beginning has an ending, they say
But every good thing that starts at all must remain and stay
There could be intervals called rest
But that only energizes us to give our best
The traffic light has taught me a lot
Even when the red light makes us remain on a spot
It’s just a break, we’re going to move on
And continue the good work we have done
Red, for me doesn’t mean stop
The stop of anything good results in a flop
Red for me says rest
Shortly before hatching he eggs in the nest
From Hosanna, the boss to Great
Writing would never cease at the gate.
This is me signing out….
Love you all
THE FIFTH DAY: ISOLA DORCAS OLUWABUNMI
CLASS OF ’17. AFROCENTRIC. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘LITERATURE AND WRITING’
…a little motivation as 2016 is wrapping up.
“Honestly, I’m tired of this faculty! How can people be so bli… I don’t even know what to say. The environment makes me want to thr… Everybody there st… The white and black is just too… Gosh!”
“Honestly, I’m tired of this faculty! How can people be so blinded? I don’t even know what to say. The environment makes me want to throw up. Everybody there stinks. The black and white is just too conventional to make these law students look special in the eyes of the students of other faculties. Gosh!”
The first one, I’d consider a “hater alert”. The second one I’d say is a “hate speech” and makes better sense except that it’s untrue. It’s only just easier to understand.
When I ask some non-law UNILAG students why they dislike us and find us so irritating, most of what comes out of their mouths are incomplete hateful sentences. The only reply I usually give is “you guys are just jealous of us”, when in fact, I want to spray ‘hateicide’ on the person and shout, “be gone you hateful person!!!”. But we’re civilized, we’re learned and we’re a handful lot of awesome!
I would not express my experience of being a part of this faculty with big long fat ear-tiring words; neither would I make it into a poem to soothe you. I’d just write it, and let you read it.
We’re not better than very many people on this planet, neither is the bunch of us smarter or more intelligent than the rest of the minds that exist. Being in the faculty of law is being a part of a wholly different society. Learning in these ‘antique’ structures is just what a lot of us need. And 5 years is about enough of the time we need to take all we can from it.
Classes, events, competitions, dinners, get-togethers, parties, crazy dramas are there to teach us all lessons about what we need to survive in the outside world. Many people here have served as role models to us in one way or the other. Competitions have made us stronger and tougher. Our lecturers have fed us, some with knowledge, some with nonsense. Our mind blowing events have opened our eyes to a lot. Our programs, get-togethers, parties, and dinners have brought us together. The cliques, gangs, and friendship circles we’ve been a part of have given us connections to the society, and kept us updated.
No matter how distant or how close you are from and to the faculty, the positions you hold, your popularity scale level, the amount of awards you’ve received, the title people put to your name… If you’ve gotten nothing that would make you better than the haters here think we are, then we’re as useless as they think. We’re in another session now. I bet the best you’d do yourself is be a part of something, better yourself and start beating into shape, that person you want to become when you leave this event centre we call a faculty. Because if you don’t, the only thing you’d have had is fun and no other thing to show for your four/five years of stay here.
We might think we’re the most envied group of people that exists in this institution, but how hard we’ve gotten and what our worth really is would only be realized when we start to live lives of our own.
Law students, what have you made so far? Are you even seeing a future for what you’re making now? What is your plan? And please don’t tell me about your G.P that is on top of high rise or that’s buried under the lagoon. What you are is what is what you make yourself into.
If we can’t hold the best positions after we get our degrees, what does that make us then? Local Champions?
My advice for us is… While you’re here, get on their nerves. And when you get out there, burst their heads!
… Just do all that is in your power to show them that all they’ll ever make are incomplete statements!
THE SIXTH DAY: IKEOLUWA ADETONA
CLASS OF ’18. INTROVERT. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘NEWS AND EVENTS’
Tora is sitting on the sofa with her pretty baby. She is singing to her ear to make her fall asleep. All of a sudden, there is a noise coming from the outside , close to the door. Tora decides to stand up and check what the noise is all about and of course, it is ‘booboo’ her fluffy dog that is making the sound. She then turns back to carry back her sleepy baby but she is not on the chair any longer. Her mind is asking her if she actually dropped ‘Pretty Julie’ on the chair. With so much heaviness, Tora starts to cry. She moves around nowhere, her mind becoming blank and beclouded by fear. ‘Sweet’ will soon be back and the fear of how she will explain the whole tragedy is now coming to her mind.
Sweet opened the door before she could turn her neck, holding a piece of paper. Tora is just looking , trying to wipe the tears off her face.
‘Baby, what’s the problem?’
‘Sweet, ‘Pretty Julie’ is gone! I dropped her here, just here to…..’
‘Calm down and explain to me baby. By the way, I saw this paper on the ground, close to the door while coming in. It simply has six letters in it ‘ENDINGS’.
‘I’m confused Sweet, I am and all I can think of right now is my baby! My baby! My baby is gone!
It’s 8pm and Pretty Julie is not found. Tora hasn’t eaten anything since the loss of her baby. Sweet is in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Tora heard a noise from the door, like that of three or four people whispering. She stood up to check and she was blocked by the presence of her husband, who just reached the door, carrying in donut and tea.
‘Baby, where are you going to? I just prepared something to eat. Come and let’s eat. I need you to stay strong’.
That night, Julie had a dream about her husband, packing his load out of the house to go live elsewhere.
It’s Tuesday, 2017 and Pretty Julie is gone for a day. Tora and her husband are in the nearest police station, reporting the issue. Tora was sitting down while her husband is talking to one of the policemen. After 30 minutess, Tora stood up and walked out with her husband.
It’s Wednesday, 2017. Tora woke up very late because she was having three concurrent terrible dreams, similar to the formal one she had the day Pretty Julie was taken away. A shrieking sound came from the kitchen, she rushed there and she found the most terrible thing ever.
Sweet is dead!. On his hand was a sharp knife that he had used to stab himself. Beside him was a paper;
‘’I know you are a traitor and a betrayal. I received a call on Sunday that my mum is dead. But mistakenly, you left the hand band I gave you on the table. You were there Tora. Now I am sure you were the one who infected me with a deadly virus last month. Doctor told me yesterday that I have few days to live. I already reported you to the police, they saw you with me yesterday and they are coming for you because I just called them. Our daughter is safe. I took her away from you. The things coming to you are unending…..’’
Tora peeped outside and of course, her building was surrounded already by the policemen. Two of them moved closer to the door and knocked.
‘You are under arrest Mrs Tora for….’
She cut in and shouted ‘THIS IS A SET UP!’
THE SEVENTH DAY: SAMUEL AJAYI
CLASS OF ’19. SAMAZING. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘STUDENT VOICES’ ‘POLITICS’ ‘LITERATURE AND WRITING’ ‘OPINION’
The Nigerian Music Industry; an Orphan Crying For Care
It goes surviving any argument that every one human appreciates music and fancy listening to it anytime it finds its way through theirs. This is inseparable from the fact that music is generally seen a saviour. It saves some from stress, many others from worries and to majority, it saves jolly moments. A common tile with every country inhabited by these beings; humans, is the presence of an entertainment industry. Much more, a musical one. Be it officially pronounced or not. Formal or informal. The music industry just like that of the movies, is the mother home for all recording artistes, labels and products.
In Nigeria, though pronounced, the music industry is cool to be classified as being informal. This is because there is no presence of a coordinated set of persons who are legitimately covered, the authority of regulating what sort of songs should be recorded in terms of lyrics, what sort of recordings should be aired, what videos should be shot and what have you. Many or most Nigerians so to say are unaware of this fact and are probably unconcerned about it. A good reason being that they know not what is expected of a broadband music industry. So, here comes the saying; what you are ignorant of, may get to hurt you eventually. A burden of proof here is if this is capable of hurting Nigerians or is already harming them at the moment. I believe you will discover this soonest.
The Nigerian Movie industry, ‘Nollywood’ as it is popularly referred to, boasts of being the 2nd largest grossing movie industry in the world after the Hollywood of America with Bollywood of India ranking third on the list. The management of the Nollywood supervises the production and overall distribution as well as monitoring of the industry’s constituents. By this I mean everyone and everything under the body. Nigeria is not yet a porn making country. I think we should reserve special thanks to the Nollywood for this. Many more are seen to be results of the conscious efforts of this industry. Unlike its twin which is with no parent(al) body to regulate and supervise it. Perhaps the biggest meeting point of stakeholders of the Nigerian Music Industry is the ‘Industry Nite’ which is a weekly event pulling together upcoming artists, established artists, record label execs, brand managers and fans. Mostly the hip-hop genre. This should not be as there is a great need for a regularly organized convergence which should be more encompassing. This can only be possible when there is an institutionalized Music Industry for Nigeria.
A smart reader along the line might have objected by conceptualizing that there exists the Nigerian Broadcasting Commission (NBC) which is fully in place to regularize the Nigerian music business. This is a rumour many think is true as the NBC exists for all Nigerian media when the talk comes to airing of their activities publicly (on/in the media). And as a Federal Agency that it is, we can conclude already that it is only as effective as the current government we have in power. Sai Baba! Though, kudos to our NBC for sending memo all around radio stations stating what Lil Kesh’s musical that should not be aired. What we have next is the YAGI Boss thanking NBC for the ban as it has even announced his song the more and yes, millions are grooving to the jam which is still freely available on naijaloaded, tooxclusive and several hundreds of site.
That silents the possibility of the NBC serving as a competent body to regulate the conducts and affairs of our Music industry. If only that is its function in the first place.
A very crucial and fundamental feature of our present day music web in the Giant of Africa, is the unhindered flow of lewd contents. By this, I imply progressive adoption of vulgar and vain words as selling points. And secondly, the bawdy parade and display of the opposite sex in a sexually corrupted form in our music videos. In Nigeria music industry today, it appears that the easiest way to sell songs is to portray women as sexual objects and concoct meaningless lyrics. Vulgarity, sexuality and sensuality have become rampant in our society today. Many thanks to our masters and mistresses of the music industry.
Nigeria’s entertainment industry generally is undoubtedly the biggest in Africa, but lyrical contents of Nigeria hip hop music right now seem to be a total shift. Many music artists pick up slangs and slogans from the thin air, suing it to drive the consciousness of music lovers.
Meanwhile, many years ago, Nigerians become proud of the fact that that our music and music videos are in better quality and good shape, enjoying more airplay on local and international television and radio platforms with good lyrical contents. But these days, lewd lyrics, vulgar sound and connotations of foul impressions flood the Nigeria hip hop world as many artistes count it as a unique selling point.
The reason behind this trend is lost in the zealous desire for fame, wealth and any other meaningless reason that can be thought of.
Overtime, there have been outcries on some television and radio programmes to ensure an abrupt end is brought to this ‘malady’; the musicals which bare highly suggestive of obscene representation and could corrupt the sensibilities of the impressionable and underaged.
Sadly, something next to nothing has been seen as result.
The lack of a general overseeing body in the Nigeria Music scene is a big problem contributing to this quagmire. But when such body exists, we shall witness a balanced curtail and curbing of the flow of the aforementioned crazes and razzmatazzes.
A frank truth in this matter is that so many Nigerians who enjoy music especially the Hip-hop find it of no big deal, the various misdemeanors said to be ongoing in the world of Nigerian music. They may be very right as I opine they are not wrong at all for the following reasons.
Much more than our experience is what obtain in other climes and even on a glossier scale. The United States is a golden example here. The economy of the U.S is a one luxurious Qatar envies till tomorrow and a type poor Somalia can never witness till rapture calls. You know what I mean. In this regard, President Barack Obama said entertainment is the engine upon which the economy of America operates. We see music as a very large sector in the entertainment arena as a whole. Arguably, America has the world’s largest set of artistes with lewd lyrics. Words such as f***, b****, n****, a** and many more are ornaments decoratively worn around the American musicals. This is seen as a vindication for other musicians all around the globe who see their American counterparts as demi-gods with the latest and dopest trends.
Another reason off this, is the continuous extension of grease to the elbows of these singers. Awards, cash prizes and others roll in to get these songsters encouraged per time. But then,it is mostly interpreted as a reward for hard work and diligence. I love being rewarded for hard work too. There is also in place, the justification that these singers have the bragging right to cook up anything and call it a track cum the freedom of the lovers to listen to whatever it is they choose to. Several other reasons abound why these vulgar personified monikers are always in popular demand.
The government is seen once more as a needed Messiah (to those who view these trends from the negative). Government must take deliberate policies that will affect the music of Nigeria positively.
These musicals are free to download. The lyrics are corruptible. Nigerian kids, teenagers and youths are getting injected by the continuous evangelisation of immorality. Something crucial must be done in no time.
This is a wake up call.
On a last note, I just downloaded for free Rihanna’s Needed Me video, I still watch on T.V, WizKid’s In My Bed and The Omo Wobe Anthem by Olamide and Burna Boy is currently topping charts.
***(Bridge… I guess we’re on a sneh level why should you then to tell me to forget my rizzla. Shoro niyen in fact I will just cause trouble but then I ain’t gat no time as I need a skin tight for a 1 2 bang. Not one that’ll disturb me with some 69 missed calls but a customer dada that’ll see me as a coolest kid in Africa. I’m all about the expensive shit but I’m glad I’ve not joined any bad gang. Please I need someone to help solve this problem cos this Diana is already soaking me in gbese. Not to worry I’ve got dollars in the bank. And truth is I don’t care about my haters. Who you epp? Just leave trash for LAWMA and Gbagbe oshi.***
This is how I sound and this is how I roll. I am the Nigerian music industry and I need urgent care.
Constant and unhampered injury is being done to the teeming ‘future’ of our nation.
…but then, who cares?
Definitely not the NBC.
THE EIGHTH DAY: DOSUNMU AGBOOLA MUBARAK
CLASS OF ’19. LADKING. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘BEAUTY OF THE WEEK’ ‘LITERATURE AND WRITING’
I opened the door gently, wondering if she was awake. I wasn’t sure I wanted her awake. Perhaps it would make things easier. It should, shouldn’t it?
But of course she was awake, and smiling too. So I stared into her smiling face, felt the pang of hopelessness mingled with the allure of love. What else could I do?
“Stop staring at me like that.” She said sporting an angry frown I hoped she was feigning.
“Like what?” I asked in mock confusion.
“Like Joker. And the guy’s jokes usually have a maniac quality.” She said looking thoughtful.
I felt hollow. She had once pulled the Whot/Joker joke on me before and it was lit. The way she put it now made me acutely aware she was trying to diffuse the tension in the air. But shouldn’t I be the one doing that?
“You really need to stop looking at me like that. Or have I turned into something less already?” She said, and I couldn’t ascertain if it was a joke or not. After all, I hadn’t come visiting in two weeks.
“I tried to see you. But your mom wouldn’t let me.” I quirked in, “I guess I was too scared of what I’d see to press her.”
“Hmm… So if you’d pressed her, would you have hung her or folded her?”
“You’re incorrigible” I replied.
“No I’m not. I’m in an hospital. On my deathbed. And I’m trying to let you all know my remaining days, few as they are, should be spent to the fullest. Must you all act as if you’re in mourning, like I’m dead already! Can’t you all humor me! Wouldn’t you all have enough time to put on your somber ambiance when I’m gone! Is that too much to ask?” I felt a wave of anger. But not at her. At fate. At God. She never used to have mood swings. She used to be always genteel and lovely. She used to…
“I’m sorry.” I said out of lack of anything better to say. I had to keep reminding myself not to lash out at something. At anything. She wouldn’t want me to. When I get home I can take out the frustration and pain out on the walls of my room. But for now, I need to distract her with beautiful memories.
“Thought the rule is you gonna miss me when I’m gone.” She said, “but you are all acting like I’m gone already. It’s depressing. It really is.”
“I understand” I said. All I understood was the anger and helplessness, but I couldn’t say that. But I’m sure she knew. She always did.
“I had to ask Bunmi to leave my room the other day. She was crying so hard and acting all… I know I sound inane but I just find it… And you! Bunmi is a girl, I understand. Mom… well she has always been emotional. But you! Do you know how it felt to not see you for two weeks? Wondering if each day would be my last?”
“I’m sorry.” But it sounded hollow. Very hollow.
“You know this is your fault, yes?” She said.
I just stared at her, confused.
“If you had quickly acted on all the green lights I’d thrown you, I wouldn’t be so mad I’m leaving so soon.”
Leaving so soon? The euphemism sounded insulting somehow.
“I told you I am allergic to color green.” I said offering her a sad smile. “Moreover,” I continued “if you’d agreed to go out with me immediately I asked you out we would have had three extra months.” I said with a smirk on my mouth. Playing along.
“Oh please.” She said positively grinning as she relished the memory, “I wasn’t even sure if you were talking to me or Tolu. We were all drunk, remember?” Then she gave a sincere smile, “Moreover, if I didn’t form hard-to-get, how would I know you truly love me?” She said ending it with a whine and a pout.
“Hard to get indeed. Is that your excuse for coming to pick me during Karaoke night to sing ‘beneath your beautiful?” I asked with a feigned seriousness.
“Of course,” She replied. “I needed someone with a terrible voice. You have the most terrible voice I’ve ever heard.” She laughed.
“Hmm. Interesting.” I said joining in the laughter. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you kissed me at the end of the song in front of everyone.”
“Why, cos it seemed romantic. And I wanted everyone to know you’re mine.” She said smiling sheepishly. “I’ve told you it has nothing to do with jealousy.”
“I’m nur understanding” I replied, “Why would I think it has anything to do with it?”
She was quiet. No doubt thinking about all the crazy things we’ve done together since then. Moments shared, jokes and pranks, kisses and hugs. A pregnant silence descended.
“You’re hard to understand, but quaint nonetheless” I said, breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry for being so selfish.” She said quietly.
“You’re many things, annoying being chief among them, but definitely not selfish.”
“But I knew.” She said. Almost as if she expected me to see her in a different light. “I knew I had little time left. And I led you on. I never told you.”
I was nonplussed. I never knew she had known all these time. But I could understand. If we trade places I would definitely do the same.
“Trust me,” I said a little surprised at the sincerity in my voice “I wouldn’t change any of this for the world.”
She smiled. I could see the relief wash over her. Then a mischievous glint went into her eyes.
“So… It seems I leave this world with my innocence intact.” She said.
“You? Innocence! Let’s just call it ignorance of how it feels to have a man inside you” I said with a smirk.
“Samuel Jerry William, I hate you.” She beamed.
“Famakinde Ayomide Ikeoluwa, I love you more.” I replied with conviction.
Thinking about that day today, I realize I wouldn’t trade that visit for anything in the world. I wouldn’t trade any second I spent with her for anything, even the ones where she was just screaming at me. So what am I saying? One day, things ‘as we know it’ would end, better to have made the most of it while you still have it.
THE NINTH DAY: CHRISTIANA ADEYEMI
CLASS OF ’17. VERY CUTE. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘BOOK REVIEWS’
Sunyani was a calm place . You could stroll down the road at 3am and feel completely secure, no thoughts of safety ringing through your head. Honestly, nothing ever happened in that empty town.
Well, that is , until the tourists came .
I had never been one to bond too easily with people so I found it quite shocking when I found myself making conversation with the black lot from Nigeria. I say “black lot”, because infact, contrary to popular belief, they are darker than myself, a Ghanian.
“Efuaaaa”, one of them dragged my name ever so gingerly, ” how do you say good morning in Twi?”
“How do you say thank you?”
“How do you go to town?”
“How do I calculate my cedis and pesewas ?”
These are the questions I woke up to every morning.
Sometimes , I would frown at the stained patch of water on the ceiling, drilling my eyes through it and wishing I was not a caretaker for the house the tourists lived . They asked too many questions . They smiled too wide.
One of them was bearable to answer though; the man called A.M . I had no idea why he would ask me to call him “ante meridiem”, but I accepted , curling the letters ever so gently on my lips .
Two weeks passed in a blur of activities and I could feel myself getting attracted to this chocolate man from the Giant of Africa.
Our favorite spot to talk was under the pine tree some steps from the house . He would teach me his language and I would teach him our dance . We were a perfect match.
Yesterday we went to town and I panicked when I realized there was a celebration going on. Mahama had lost the election and the people were ecstatic, shaking their bodies left and right with such unnatural vigour . Even I had been perplexed by this jubilation because I’d thought NPP had less popularity.
The only downside to this somewhat “innocent” celebration was that the finest and most endowed Ghanaian girls would dance at the town square . I felt my heart literally sink as A.M’s eyes fixed on the ladies .
But it was only for a moment .
My right hand was suddenly clasped in his and I saw him staring at me . I felt so unsure of whatever it was I would do with my eyes-look at the celebration , look at him, or look at my sweaty hands. I had always read about people sweating on the palm when nervous and it seemed a bit unreal that it was happening to me .
That was when he leaned in and gave me a peck on my forehead . I died a little inside from the joy of the moment , then I resurrected when he laughed so heartily , face thrown to the sky .
He was happy , I was happy . Nothing could go wrong at that moment.
Then life, being the buzzkill that it is, showed up in my little bubble of happiness and made a game of it .
What happened was funny really.
During one of our evening conversations, A.M hurriedly told me, with finality in his voice, that he would be returning to his country the following day.
I suddenly found myself staring through him; it honestly felt like I wasn’t there anymore . Only my body sat facing him on that hard bench. I couldn’t hear the words he was making with his mouth; everything was numb.
I couldn’t explain the wave of sadness that was eating up my heart .
Does a day have to end with goodnight ?
Does a story have to end with “The End?”
Does a meeting have to end with goodbye?
Goodbye’s the saddest word I’ll ever hear
Goodbye’s the last time I would hold him near
It felt like A.M had left while he was still in front of me. And it hurt like hell.
THE TENTH DAY: MARVELLOUS ALONGE
CLASS OF ’20. MAHRVIE. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘MOTIVATION AND INSPIRATION’
An inspiration from Toke makinwa’s story…
She fastly needed to fill the void left by her parent’s undying love for her. She was torn apart and saw nothing other than depression in the recess of her heart. She’d give anything…do anything to quench darkness. It was slowly sucking her in.
She wanted that love back. So badly that she’d compromised it. Just anyone who had winked at her. Just the word_love from anyone would do. She didn’t mind. She didn’t care. She had built her world of illusion. A world of pretense. This guy was no good but she heeded. Like a little child playing with the on/off in a socket,her relationship was rising and falling.
As I explored her world in those 122 pages,I felt her pain. I was bewildered by her foolishness, but the only excuse for her was an arrow of love. She was shot right in the heart…
So here goes this short piece. Do not settle for less. Do not compromise the sincerity of your feelings. Love has no compromise!
Your love has no compromise
When I look into your eyes
Into your armed eyes I see courage
Then you tell me boldly, courageously
Love has no compromise
Your eyes gaze into my soul
Urging me to search you
More and more
No despise, no hate
I hear your voice of faith
That slowly approaches like a
Magnitude of infinity
Time is your tool. You carve
Your image of goodness and perfection
The longing world melts in your eyes
And then you stop me for a moment
And remind me
Love has no compromise.
THE ELEVENTH DAY: JEREMIAH OWOLABI
CLASS OF ’18. POLITICAL ANALYST. CONTRIBUTOR TO ‘POLITICS’
Seriously, Americans Don’t Know Politics…Clinton and Trump
Now that Clinton has carried over criminal errmmm sorry has lost the election, don’t worry LSS is offering effective tutorials next session on how to win elections next time.(electionsPUL321)
Can you imagine both Clinton and Trump, you are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them went to Jerusalem not even LAGOON FRONT to pray with the President of American Christian Association. Dummies!
You are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them went to kneel down for the church fathers in America like Billy Graham, Rick warren, TD Jakes, Creflo Dollar, not even prophet HOSSANA of the blog parish. These politicians don’t know nothing!
You are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them moved from one Church to the other, doling out $$$$$ to the pastors for prayers! American politics is shit.
You are contesting a whole presidential election, Clinton is from Chicago, Obama her predecessor is from Chicago. And no one is shouting Marginalisation! Not even EZE DIVINE This election is rigged!
You are contesting a whole presidential election, Clinton from Chicago is voting in New York. Trump is also voting in New York. Something must be fishy about this New York. This election should be cancelled or take INEC to court.
You are contesting a whole presidential election and the two of them have not destroyed the American church by turning pastors against themselves, one saying God has ordained Clinton. Another saying Angel Gabriel or angel GBOYE has endorsed Trump! Oh America. You dont know politics.
You are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them went to special courtesy visits to the state governors and who will abandon their jobs and be following them all over America in Aso Ebi! Americans! Americans! Americans! How many times i call you?
You are contesting a whole presidential election and I have not seen American Father Mbaka crying that Democratic party has destroyed America! Big for nothing America!
You are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them went to visit the witches and wizards among the Red Indians! Mtcheeeew!
You are contesting a whole presidential election and none of them went to visit… i beg, who is the Oba of New York, the Emir of Texas and Obi of Maryland? This election is inconclusive!
You are contesting a whole presidential election and no American prophets or prophetesses on Facebook is saying “GOD TOLD ME THAT CLINTON OR TRUMP WILL WIN”. American pastors no de see. There are no prophets in America. They should come and import some from here to blow lies in the name of Jesus…sorry in the name of Dollars!
THE TWELFTH DAY: GREAT OPARA
CLASS OF ’18. WRITER. INCOMING BLOG ADMIN. CREATOR OF ‘CHRONICLES OF THE ILLEGALLY LEGAL’
AND ONE MORE DAY: WILLIAM-ADUSA HOSANNA
CLASS OF ’17. OUTGOING BLOG ADMIN
I stared at my computer screen with a smile on my face. The last article had passed the 500 view mark in less than an hour. So this is what these people like reading about…themselves. My next three articles will be about them.
I stared at my computer screen and the smile was gone. My PDF Academic Profile told me that I may not graduate this year. So this is the cost of not reading plenty. My next two semesters will be about books.
I stared at my computer screen and the smile came back. Her Instagram account had all the beauty I needed. So this is my girlfriend, ordinary me. My next girlfriend will die waiting for her turn.
I stared at my Computer screen, and my expression was blank. Jumia’s price tag on my dream phone was half a million Naira. My next gesture was to show the screen my outstretched palm,and hiss, and then close the Tab.
I stared at my computer screen one more time. And viewed my life in retrospect. Hardly Perfect, very bumpy. But I have not died, and I have food. I thank the Heavens, and throw in a request or two. Then I shut my computer down, and close the lid.
The next time I turn it on, it will be a new year. My RAM will be free, and the system will be cool. The stuff I have on it will still be there, but it will be a fresh start, and I will be in charge. My computer screen will read, ‘WELCOME, WILLIAM’
I have to say I am indeed a lucky person. Being entrusted with Gamaliel Olayiwola’s brain child, after Teni Akeju took it to new heights, the LSS Blog has made significant progress in the past one year. I have had an amazing team of dedicated writers, and while it was not a smooth ride all through, it was still one heck of a worthwhile ride. In the last year, we have had articles that set and broke records on the Blog. The Likes of Ad-Infinitum which saw a huge number of students participating, commenting, and having fun online. And I Don’t Like That which beat the former’s record. New columns such as photo journalism, and Once Upon a Law student have emerged, while old time favorites like Student Voices, The interview series, and Chronicles of the Illegally Legal are still going strong. I have no doubt that we will only see better things in the coming year, under Great Opara and his new team. It has been a pleasure serving the faculty; editing, posting, commenting, corresponding, getting queried, becoming loved, being hated, and having fun, this past year…and I am thankful to everyone for the opportunity.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR IN ADVANCE TO YOU ALL.
FROM ALL OF US
THE 2016 LEXICON TEAM.