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CHRONICLES OF THE ILLEGALLY LEGAL S2E8

CHRONICLES OF THE ILLEGALLY LEGAL S2E8

The life expectancy of the average Nigerian is 53.05 years. Now, I’ll be a year older on Sunday and two things came to my mind upon finding out the above information: (1) lol we are fucked in this country and (2) who exactly is the average Nigerian?

Since I am certain that number one is something we are all aware of, my focus therefore is on number two. Average. Again, who exactly is the average Nigerian and how can I ensure that my life is absolutely nothing like his so that I don’t end up dying when I’m 53.05 years old? 

These are the thoughts that consume me as I go about my business today. Our beloved country Nigeria is wavering on the brink of turmoil…not just our country sef but the entire world, with hurricanes in the west, political instability in the east, wars and conflict in the north and a different problem just about every where else, some people have confidently sworn that the earth has reached its end. And they just might be right. However, just in case they are wrong and the world doesn’t end in 2017 or 2018 or any other time soon, I think it’s a pretty wise idea to continue planning for the future, while keeping in mind that the life expectancy is still 53.05 years for the average Nigerian.

Today is day number 33 of the ongoing ASUU strike. Today is also a Friday, the start of the glorious weekend, but the thing is, in my opinion, weekends are only fantastic when you actually need to rest (or turn tf up) cos of the rigours of the week. Where however, due to thorough inactivity, there’s no bloody difference between the week and the weekend, what exactly are you celebrating please? My strike experience has been pretty mixed thus far. When the strike was initially declared, I was one of many naive, hopeful idiots who felt that it would end as quickly as it began and the Federal government would settle the aggrieved lecturers and all would be back to normal. Lmao! As if we don’t know our dear country. This hope did keep me in school for the next couple of weeks though, and lemme tell you something, Unilag can be very alright when you have the money, you don’t stay in the hostel and you have the right connect. But like all other good things, it must end and the money did end thus forcing me to return home. And here begins my problem. Home.

You see the place I call home is very different from whatever cave you reside in. I live in Satellite Town, and the most famous and important thing about Satellite Town is that it’s beside Festac Town and if that’s not the definition of average then I don’t know what is. The only thing to do in this place is to leave. Like, that’s it. That’s literally all we do for fun here: leave Satellite Town. While in school, you’ll hear all these deliciously exciting stories about all the many many many children of Unilag that live either here or around, but when you’re actually living here yourself, when you wake up and go to bed every damn day in this place, you start to realize that someone, somewhere lied. Maybe it’s just me yunno? Maybe there’s something I’m not doing right, maybe I haven’t joined the Satellite Town WhatsApp group or something, so many maybes. However, one thing that’s not a maybe, is that I ache to leave this place.

My estate is a very quiet place, most of the youth raised here use school as a means of escape and only return during the holidays. Me, if I had my way, I’d never come back even during the holidays…sha maybe just to see one or two of those very fine females who’ve gone abroad or to private universities and come back with all the latest errm tricks and surprises, but that’s a story for another day. Today, I have decided to make the best of things and live life to the fullest. These are the thoughts that occupy my mind as I prepare to go grocery shopping at the local supermarket. I’m doing shi that I would usually never even think about for a ‘trip’ within my environs…combing my hair and beard, putting on cologne, wearing a watch and sunglasses etc. I step in front of the mirror to peruse my appearance and I am thoroughly satisfied. There’s no way my life expectancy is 53.05 years as I am like this, no way. It’s impossible. Never! As I step out of the gate, I make a promise to myself that all this fine boy shall not be in vain.

Fast forward two hours later and it appears that Satellite Town has defeated me once again. A very important question that might pop up in your mind is “who goes grocery shopping for two hours within his own neighborhood?”. This is not a question I’m prepared to answer at the moment, so let’s just move on. I’m hot (not in the good way), depressed, annoyed, irritated and the only thing on my mind now is just getting home and using air conditioner to kill myself. I drag my feet to the checkout point and dump my goods on the counter for the cashier to assess my financial liability. She makes an attempt at humor but is completely cowered by the look of utter savagery on my face. That’s good. At least if I can scare her into miscalculating then today shall not be an utter waste.

The beautiful thing about life is, when you’re down and almost completely out, the universe (or in my case, your Igbo ancestors) sends something or someone to pick you back up. I dip my hand into my back pocket to get out my ATM card and pay for my purchases and in the process, I get this familiar tingling sensation in my spine and I smile to myself. My radar has never deceived me and it will not start now. I sniff the air and confirm…there’s a babe in the building. I eventually spot her and in the next twenty minutes or less, I walk up to this miracle of a human being and discover just about everything there is to know about her. Lol well not everything, not yet😁

My miracle and I walk out of the supermarket side by side, gisting, laughing and utterly oblivious to everything and everyone.  I accompany her to a black car apparently driven by her mum, she gets in, says something to mother miracle, her mum turns around, sizes me up and then waves at me like someone who just met her future son-in-law. I wave back like my life depends on it, I wave as if the car is on fire and my hands can put it out, I wave like….well you get the point. The car reverses and they drive away and I’m standing there, smiling and waving like I just won Mr Nigeria 2017. 

As I make the walk back to my house, I am in incredibly high spirits. The sun is brightly shining, the birds are singing the abokis are aboking and I feel like dancing. Nothing can bring me down right now, not even the bastard okada man that almost runs me over as I cross the road.

I get back to my house and I remember the life expectancy article I read in the morning as well as my birthday on Sunday and I laugh to myself. 

Average kor, 53.05 is not my portion in Jesus name.

Great Opara

 

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CHRONICLES OF THE ILLEGALLY LEGAL S2E7

This week and indeed, this entire year has been filled with little…joys which have reinforced my views that maybe, just maybe, life should not be taken so seriously. And even if you wanna take life in general seriously, do not take life in Nigeria seriously otherwise you’ll just run mad. Not the play-play type of madness either, but the starkravingnolucidmomentstearingyourclothesandbarking type of madness.

See the thing is, Nigeria really isn’t ready to let you be great. It’s not as if the country doesn’t want you to be great o (deep down, I’m sure it means well) but it cannot just let you go on and just…flourish. Ahn Ahn! Just like that? Are you playing? Your mates that are suffering first and running mad or killing themselves, do they have two heads?

I’m trying not to rant. I believe ranting about the state of affairs in our beloved nation is something that is done only by people who’ll get into power and do much worse. Case in point: APC. Thus, I do not rant. Never! Except I’ll be paid though. Amean, if you’re ready to pay me big money to rant about the Nigerian situation, I assure you that the article I’ll write will rival any PhD thesis ever written. Therefore, I cannot promise that if I do eventually get into power I’ll be a much better leader, just because I did not rant. Maybe bad leadership and corruption is simply in our blood, the same way it’s in our blood to begin events 3hours after the stated time, or to finish clearing all the food in the plate before eating the meat. No! What I can promise, however, is that y’all will never forget my name.  Never ever. Whether for bad or good.

For the thousandth time in less than a week UBA just debited my account for some obscure charge. And some people will wonder why they’re not prospering in this life. You’re charging me for card maintenance, the same card I’m holding in my hand? The few times I get a credit alert, these pipu will not inform me until days later, but let money just mistakenly leave my account and they’ll be texting me like we’re in a sexual relationship sigh. I’m tired. But I cannot die.

The Faculty of Law, in it’s divinity and infinite wisdom, has decided to enforce the class attendance they’ve been compiling since the semester commenced. This means that if it is not documented that you attended a certain percentage of classes, you will be unable to sit for exams and like film trick your extra year will just come and be sharing squatting space with you. Ah! Even as everyone likes to talk about how having an extra year is not the end of the world and other bs, the simple truth is that, with the type of parents I have, an extra year just might mean the end of my own world, and I’m sure majority of you share this particular sentiment. I might not be much of praying person, but one little…prayer I mutter every once in a while is that the god I serve should not let me spend an extra second in the University of Lagos, talk less of a full year. You see after four long years, I’m simply tired of the nation’s pride. So I’m ready to leave, and to accomplish this I’m doing every thing necessary including attending classes where I might not necessarily learn anything. Before, as a very wise man once said, I’ll goan make mistake nw and won to gba penalty lo throw-in. I’m tired. But I cannot die.

As I leave the…comfort of my room and ac and step out into the world, the jungle that is Ransome-Kuti rushes to embrace me. A couple of feet away, the people of the area are engaged in a very riveting and combative smoking competition. The persons in first and second place are locked in fierce battle for who will be crowned the new Father of Dragons. It’s a pity that I shall miss the rest of the festivities, as I am running late. It’s a bigger pity that Unilag management is not a witness to these celebrations. The talents of a child might not lie in books and other academic activities, but give that same child a blunt and watch him (or her, cos there are many her’s too thankfully) light up with passion and glorious ecstasy. These people are manifesting their own brand of education yet, there’s no one present to offer scholarships and other incentives for intellectual prowess. It’s sad really.

After entering a cab that was probably around during the time of the great Egyptian Pharaohs, I finally arrive at my destination: the Law  Library. Do not be deceived or dismayed though. I, along with at least half the people here on this cold, wet morning, am not here to read. I’m here simply cos for some reason, my bastard network  Glo is incredibly fast in this place. Like, you have the entire world to choose from to give me super fast browsing, and you decide to do it in a place that’s underground. Under the bloody ground. I cannot even begin to fathom the madness of it all so I’ll just move on, before I break my promise and start to rant. Others, like me, are here for diverse and even unexpected purposes. Some are here to drop pant between the shelves and as far as I’m concerned, if you are not here to read and you’re not taking off your underwear either, then why are you here please? You could have just stayed in your room and deceived yourself there mtcheeew.

As I walk to my designated seat, I am reminded again of one good thing this Faculty has to offer: fine girls. Babes. Girls of all ages, types, specifications, beliefs and fetishes. My good god! Certain humans hot enough to leave you actually confused. I have a feeling these people are part of the reason the number of individuals having extra year has increased, not just in the Faculty but in the entire school. People just do not wanna graduate and leave these girls alone, and can you blame them? Who no like better thing? I sit down, and the person beside me welcomes me with a mammy water type smile. I do not know this chick from Adam, but I’m sure even Adam wouldn’t leave this Eve without attempting to seize and….I’ve run out of rhyming words, but I’m sure you get the point.

Thirty minutes into my Library adventure, mammy water smile and I have scheduled a date where we can talk and explore each other’s…minds thoroughly. I do not think I’ve ever wanted to explore a person’s mind the way I crave to explore hers. But moving on. My phone vibrates long and continuously and I turn to check it, expecting that the loml is blowing up my phone with texts and inappropriate pictures. What I see instead is the same 5 bcs spread across 17 WhatsApp group chats and 10 Personal chats. I fume. I vex. I am irritated. I am tired. But I cannot die. Even if these people seem ready to die and carry certain others with them, me, I cannot die. Not on top LSS elections. Apparently, the date is fast approaching and people are getting desperate. But, if it’s BC  that pipu use to win elections ehn, all these ones are already winners in the Lord. Someone is ready to run mad because of a position that, after all the lies you tell us, you probably still won’t do any better than your predecessor, neither shall your name be remembered ten minutes after you’re done sigh. I want to rant. But seeing as no one has transferred dollars into my account, I shall postpone my rant until you people are ready to pay.

I’m suddenly craving corn, be it boiled or roasted. And I’m not the type of person to deny my body anything it needs. Especially food. And the…other thing too. But mostly food. That’s probably the first thing anyone should know about me. If you want my heart, just provide me with constant good food. In fact, after money and just before knowledge and women, good food is a necessary ingredient in my psychological make up. I bid a hearty farewell to mammy water smile and leave the Library to goan begin my corn hunt. 

I almost make it. Almost. I go outside and I am accosted by the real life election campaign team. It seems they have decided to physically manifest the bcs they’ve been disturbing us with. I try to firmly but politely brush them aside. But lined up behind them is another and then another an yet another campaign team. And then it dawns on me that my plans shall not come into fruition. My corn shall have to wait.

How does Buhari do it? How does the boyfriend do it when the girl tells him she’s pregnant? How does my Course Adviser do it when it’s time to sign my docket? How do they all just…disappear? Sigh

I wish I could disappear rn but I can’t. So I must endure this, once again

I am tired. But I cannot die.


Great Opara 



 

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CHRONICLES OF THE ILLEGALLY LEGAL S2 E6

There comes a time in a man’s life when he must sit down, look within himself and truly reflect upon his existence in general and whether or not things are going well for his immortal soul. This point in life has been called several names; some call it a moment of clarity, others call it sober reflection et cetera, but regardless of whatever title it holds the essence of said reflection is that…in that moment, man is truly honest with himself.

The time is 4am and I am currently undergoing my own moment of clarity. I am sitting behind the counter at the Unilag Security Post along with about one million and one other human beings. In simpler terms, we’re all locked up at Alpha Base. Like the real base o. The base of the Alphas. The home of the men in blue. The cabal. The evil fores…shaa you get the point. I’ve never been so confused in my life. Imagine being woken up by armed security men (we all know there’s no bullet in the gun but just stay with me please) by 2am because your neighbour lodged a complaint that she left her room door open to goan bathe and when she came back some of her stuff was missing. And the next logical thing was for the Alphas to come, pound on our doors like mad people, rouse us all from sweet sleep and then transport us to the evil forest where our judgement awaits. Do y’all see all the many many things wrong with this current state of affairs?

Amean, my roommates and I were even forming baddos and we drove our own car here simply cos we couldn’t enter their van to come and go to the Base. Ahn Ahn think about it nw. Chairmen like us and we’ll nw goan enter that their dirty, rusty, broken down, formerly white contraption, when we have ride? The gods forbid it. We drove here, blasting music through the speakers and all…chilled life really. We were under the impression that it was a basic issue and all we had to do was simply show up, declare our innocence and they would bid us goodbye and farewell, maybe even apologise for the inconvenience they caused us. Loool yunno when you use your own two legs to enter gbese? On top matter that we know nothing about.

It’s now 2pm, I have been here since 2am. That’s twelve hours people of god. Once again, I’m so confused. In these twelve hours, I’ve come to truly understand just how effective the criminal justice system of our dear country is. See, you can do Criminal Law two times or even four times sef depending on how much you love the course, but you’ll never really…appreciate it until you undergo your very own, well tailored, personal experience. You might have crammed Okonkwo and Naish from beginning to end but until you’re behind the counter and one potbellied old illiterate is giving you all those ‘Jack Bauer’ type of threats, you cannot adequately comprehend the injustice of criminal justice.

All the other humans I came along with are giving me side eye and looks that say “no be this guy wey talk say e be law student?”. I really do not care anymore, after all most engineering students can’t even fix fan. And all the Department of English students I know prefer Yoruba to English, and not just any Yoruba o but the very very thick one that you have to be a true son of the soil before you can understand. When we first got here and I still had energy, I was busy ranting and quoting all the sections and laws pertaining to illegal detainment and fundamental human rights, while the Baba of the Base was just looking at me and smiling like “see this idiot, you never jam”. Now, almost 13hours later and without food in my system, the only relevant law I can think of is the law of the jungle which says Only The Strong Will Survive. I know that last last, I cannot kuku die. Even though this entire situation is designed to destroy any and all hope you might possess. Like, when we got here someone was chained to the wall…by his feet. And it’s not handcuffs or rope o, real bastard chain. All these industrial types that they use in factories and all. I almost felt sorry for the young man back then but now he has been released while we still remain here. These people are staring at us as if they are looking for the next person to chain. Dass the one I cannot even agree for. It’s better they just carry me to Kirikiri Maximum Prison lemme just know that I’m a criminal true true than for them to chain me up in Alpha Base. Although, at this point we all pretty much look like the descendants of Ali Baba and The Forty Thieves. The worst part about this place is where it’s situated. I can literally see freedom right in my very before, and with freedom comes all the beautiful girls of the University of Lagos. Since I’ve been here, the number of mammy water that have passed this place ehn…chisos! At one point, I almost asked if I can be coming here everyday, yunno just to help them out and shi. But I quickly changed my mind. Before someone will finally chain me up for assuming too much.

The hours drag on and on. We and the security men have gone from being enemies to acquaintances to best of friends back to enemies and then to friends again. We’ve gisted all the gist in this world, all that’s remaining now is for them to just offer us employment. And I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to do the work too cos from all I’ve seen today, the only training whatsoever that these men received is on How to Waste people’s time. Ah! These people have bsc in Time Wasting and Rubbish Questions. Two or three of them should be going abroad for Masters by now. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in 2017. Someone will coman lodge a complaint or report someone and the response of the Gentlemen of the Base will just blow your mind. But all this one is not my concern, I just wanna leave this place.

A couple of hours earlier, one of my fellow ‘inmates’ called his parents to save US (I assumed we were all in this together, big mistake) from this place, and his parents came and later on they had to invite one very big lawyer just to secure their son’s freedom. At this point, the rest of us should probably have begun to appreciate the gravity of the issue but wetin concern us, no be ordinary Alpha Base? Last last we go just give them 5H make them buy food sigh. It’s now almost 6:30 in the evening, and I’m as confused as a year one Law student. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without food in my entire life. And to think that we came here in our own car o. Ah!

Apparently, the parents of the boy have been able to secure the release of himself and his friend and it at this point that the situation becomes very clear. Everything is happening at the same damn time. The boy and his friend are leaving ALL of us behind. Even if you wanna leave us cos we’re really not in the same room with you, at least carry all your roommates now. I see the shock, confusion and fear on the faces of his roommates and it is almost funny. Almost. At this same time, the Sabo Police men that these people have been threatening us with finally arrive in a van big enough to carry all of us and our relatives in the village too. The way things are just escalating is staring to resemble one of those poorly scripted Nollywood movies. And it’s not as if my own parents don’t have mouth or I cannot call them or something, is just that my parents were quite against me getting a BQ inside school and they’ll simply turn something like this into an “I told you so” moment. My father might even just tell me that he will call me tomorrow and then end the call.

The Sabo people are standing by while the highly trained Alpha Base offices are trying to decide by our faces who they should transfer to Sabo Police Station and who should remain behind. BY OUR FACES!!
As it starts to seem that all hope is lost and the lawyer woman is about to enter her very beautiful car and drive off, while majority of us spend the night in a cell, I say a final prayer to heaven and my ancestors and whoever else might be listening. It seems it worked cos this woman takes one final look into the Base and our eyes connect. I can only imagine the desperate look in my eyes because this very wonderful woman gets out of her car and returns to the Base and beckons me over. Ladies and gentlemen, if you think you can beg or plead, I assure you that next to me you’re like a member of the Law Class of ’20 football team standing beside Lionel Messi. I’ve never begged like that in my entire life. See ehn, after my performance Buhari should just appoint me as the Begging General of the Federation.

To end everything, this woman secures our release and renews my faith in the power of the Law (or in the power of a well connected lawyer). We hurriedly sign all the statements and undertakings binding us to present ourselves for further questioning whenever we are required to by the security operatives, even as we know that we are never setting foot in this place again. Well, except to inquire about all the very fine females I saw tod…god what is wrong with me please?

As we walk back to our various rooms, happy and free, I consider just getting to my room, packing up all my bags and just moving into one of the hostels to goan squat. Then I remember how cold the AC in my room is and I hurriedly change my mind.

On the way back, I cannot help but look around and admire just how beautiful and wonderful Unilag is. Freedom is truly a glorious thing. Even Biobaku that used to look like a dungeon to me now seems like a palace as I walk past it.
Lool nahh, not really.

Great Opara

 

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Self Help For Dummies: How To Escape From Unilag

       Hello and welcome. On the 8th of April 2016, the University of Lagos Management suspended all academic activities and closed down the school indefinitely. This was as a result of the protests that happened the previous day. The immediate effect of this decision by the school authorities was, yes you guessed it, another protest. As you read this, you’re probably in your house where there’s no light.
       Now, because we care, and also because this is Nigeria and there’s always the possibility of history repeating itself, we are going to be giving you tips on how to handle any similar situation in the future. This time however, our writers ARE experts on this particular topic as they experienced the events first hand, so you cannot even say our advice ruined your life. You cannot.

        At the end of the article, please, feel free to donate towards our organisation as we continue working on our mission to improve your life this year. Please donate. We’re begging. We need money. Epp us ejoor sir, ma.
       That being said, we present “HOW TO ESCAPE FROM UNILAG”

FENCE: I’ll never forget the 8th of April. Waking up to the shouting and screaming of people as they tried to fathom what was happening. I rolled over in my bed and picked up my phone and scrolled through; a message from my group chat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Say what? Leave the hostel before 10? How please? And go where? I ran out of my room to see people already leaving with their belongings. Back in my room it was the same story. In a haze I began to do the same thing. I packed up and soon I was ready to go.
       Having survived, I’m here to give you a few pointers, please read carefully.

Step 1-
       As soon as you notice any unrest in the Student body leave IMMEDIATELY. Everyone was aware of the protest on Wednesday and Thursday, but no one suspected the mass exodus that would follow the next day. So to be safe, once you notice students are complaining, just leave. You don’t have to take a bath or brush your teeth, just get in a bus and go far away. You don’t even need to have money. Once people smell you in the bus, they’ll understand that you’re running away and the conductor will free you.

Step 2-
       Go in a group. As far as I’m concerned, going in a group saved me. My idea is this: people have a tendency to stampede. During a stampede, people get pushed down and trampled on. If you’re in the centre of a group, once one person gets pushed down, you have the opportunity to use the person’s body as leverage and escape. Apologies to those who escaped with me 🙅🏾 it’s just a survival thing.

Step 3-
       Ensure you have strong girls or buys in your group. To scale a fence requires upper body strength which many people lack. If you’re like me and you’re one of those people, you’ll need someone strong to hoist you up and another person to guide you at the other side. Don’t worry about thanking them, they’ll cop a feel (might be on purpose, might not be) and that is payment enough. 🙅🏾 If you ask me.

Step 4-
       Pick a safe exit route. Some people passed the canal…if I hear. Not about that life please. I looked for options and the best for me was the fence. Considering the luggage I was carrying and the state of the sun, it was a wise decision. We had to be fast though. The one thing I’m grateful for is that it let me unleash my 007 instincts, I was magnificent… at least if you don’t count the actual scaling.

BACK GATE/CANAL: April 8th 2016 was a day of lessons. If you’re a Unilag student, unlucky to be in the university premises on that day, you’ll relate perfectly. We all know that unfortunate incidents are parts of life and they don’t give notice before taking place. This is why it is advisable to note the following when you find yourself in any such situation.

       Wear pants. I mean both underwear and trousers actually. It is necessary that you wear both with a belt safely holding the “shokoto” tight. This is necessary because you’ll most likely need to run like a mad man on his way to a toilet or jump over a fence like a House of Reps member. Trust me, after having to run from an angry mob to the back gate side and jumping a fence to crossover to the “canal of escape”, I was grateful to my pants. Well if you’re a religious someborry that thinks a piece of cloth would take you straight to the gates of hell, that’s just quite unfortunate. I’m sorry for you.

       Pack lightly. I’ll admit, I over-packed for this “holiday” that Unilag bestowed upon us. In fact, as I stepped out of Moremi to meet my friends waiting for me, one of them lamented and asked if I was leaving for good. Shaa there was a car waiting at the gate for me so I didn’t see what was unreasonable. Hours later, sitting on my luggage in the middle of the road at back gate, I began to wish I didn’t carry as much. I regretted more when it was time for me to scale the fence of the canal. Imagine where you need to jump over a high fence with like three travelling bags and other humans scrambling, struggling and almost competing with you to crossover. If you think the Israelites had it rough, think again. May what I went through with my bags not be your portions in the name of Jesus.

       Wear comfortable shoes. In times like these, being fashionable, err isn’t particularly needful (forgive me Mayowa). What you need to focus on asides wearing pants and carrying little is wearing a comfortable footwear that can help you run. Heels or brogues shouldn’t even be on your mind. Be smart. Just slippers, sandals or sneakers would do. They don’t have to be fine or classy (who is looking at fine in troubled times biko?) but simply comfortable to help you through the journey. I mean, I had my fine bathroom slippers on throughout the travails and they helped me during the trek through the ‘Valley of the Shadow of the Canal’ unto the Promised Land outside school gate. That is the job of slippers, it’s even on the Dunlop website. Check it if you don’t believe me.

ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCES: I used to think that there were just 2 entrances and/or exits in Unilag (except if you’re a VC shaa, and you have boat and helicopter), but on the 8th of April, I found out how wrong this notion was. One of the other exits is the Environmental bypass/MRS road/Construction site. So, if you wanna run away during a protest and you wanna follow this particular path, just abide by these simple rules and you’ll be alright.

       First, do Not tell anyone where you’re going. As soon as you hear the place is open, just start running there. Fast. Don’t wait for anyone, don’t tell anyone bye bye, don’t stop to apply your make up, just go. Because, if you’re forming good samaritan and start telling everyone the news, you wee just carry last cos those protesters will find out and goan block the place. And we both know that they did nor born you well to argue with the protesters.
       If you’re an ajebutter, better just stay where you are cos this road is not for you. To follow this path you must be tough. You must set your inner agbero free. You must be ready to push or beat up anyone. Old or young, male or female. Do not shine teeth with anyone please, let them know that this is not a joking sturvs.
       And finally just run. It doesn’t matter where or why, just run. If you see people running, join them. If no one is running, you better start running for no reason so that others will join you without asking questions. Just run. Forget about everything and everyone. Forget about your brother or sister, your friends or squad. Forget about everyone, including bae. Especially bae sef. Cos when those ‘protesting protesters’ catch and start beating you, bae will not beg for you o, trust me. So run, please, for your own sake. Me I’ve shaa warned you.

…………………………………………………………………
           Thank you for your time and patience. Plix, if any one of you knows anybody working in Senate Building, epp us and beg the person. Shey someone cannot play with VC again ni?  Ordinary protest and yaff goan send us away? Ah! Na wa o.

  Written by: Great Opara
   Wura Fagbamiye
   Olamide Davis

 
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Posted by on April 18, 2016 in SelfHelp for Dummies

 

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Chronicles Of The Illegally Legal S2E3

  It’s a hot friday afternoon and the FLT is filled with humans. Now, this is significant because, this place was built to seat 150people comfortably. If you don’t wanna be comfortable then, it can seat about 200. If you wanna be a Nigerian, it will seat 250. If you wanna be a mad Nigerian (let’s face it, not all Nigerians are mad please), it will seat 300. And finally, if you wanna be a Nigerian law student…well there’s no limit to the FLT’s capacity. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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Chronicles of the Illegally Legal – S2 E2

I am tired. So bloody tired. Tired of life and everything in between. The time is a few minutes after 7am, and I am chilling in one of those large, yellow, ugly, smelly buses popularly called ‘molue’. Actually, I do not think ‘chilling’ is the appropriate word. Cos whenever I see people really chilling, they are rarely ever sweaty and unhappy.
I left the comfort of my bed 2 hours ago, I have an 8am class and by the look of things, I’m probably gonna get to school sometime in March. The Lagos traffic, ever present, ever knowing and forever frustrating well laid out plans.

The bus inches forward and the large woman beside me releases another very strange unearthly sound. I’ve never been to the abroad, so I’ve never experienced all those things that plague them. All those earthquakes, tsunami’s, horde of locusts, their rivers turning into blood and all that, however right now, I’d pick all those things over this present situation. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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Voices

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER (MPD) – is a mental disorder characterised by the appearance of at least two distinct and relatively enduring identities or dissociated personality states that alternately control a person’s behaviour.

       I am not psychotic. I am not insane. I am not a crazy person. These…voices in my head have always been here with me. Telling me stuff. Asking me to do things. Forcing me to do things. But, I am totally in control. I promise. There was this one time though, that incident with Elisabeth.  I don’t even remember much of what happened. I blacked out. When I woke up, there was so much blood everywhere. And Elisabeth was lying on the floor, her eyes closed and the knife beside her…I assumed she was resting. Read the rest of this entry »

 

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