Names of Noise Makers

*Period after break, before Mathematics class*

Class Captain: “You guys should stop making noise! I’m writing names” -__-

*Noise continues*

Class Captain: *tears paper out, looks around for people she loathes*


1. Yinka Dada (She was chewing gum noisily)

2. Stella Chibuzor (Dancing in front of class)

3. Tolulope Adebisi x 10times

4. Tosin Adeola (Snoring while she was sleeping)

5. Fatima Abubakar (She helped everyone go to tuck shop and caused a lot of noise)

6. Temitope Olasewe (Putting on lip gloss in class)

7. Nkem Makonam (She eyed me when I said everyone should stop making noise)

8. Adokiye Agunbiade (She was flying her shirt)

9. Moyin Oluwade (Her shoes were making noise)

10. Valerie Okpara (She was reading a novel instead of her school books)


Where is the noise love?



Definitely the fourth.


Today is one of those days when the reins of the number of things I get to cover with work and how my day goes belongs to anyone but me.

After concluding my first meeting – the only detail that worked as planned – the fire alarm goes off and we’re immediately told to evacuate the building and stand on the other side of the road.

That took forty five whole minutes.

After I’m back in my chair, I get an email from the company we leased our office space from; saying an end of the year thingy has been planned for all their clients and organized a bus to take us to the location. My colleague – who should deal with this with me – isn’t in today, so I had to go alone.

Problems are:

1. I’m clad in a mickey mouse t-shirt and brown pants, totally unfit for anything really, but I HAVE to go.

2. I stick out like a sore thumb when I’m alone in a gathering. Don’t do good with mixing and stuff, because, mickey mouse-tshirt-wearing-aunty-is-shy.

So, I’m seated alone at the far corner of the round table, looking ahead and praying it all ends as fast as possible.

In all of this, there’s this guy,  he keeps giving me the eye and I don’t know why!

Weird stuff.

When we’re on the way back, he comes over and sits beside me in the bus and we start talking. He’s enthusiastic and saying all the funny things and it’s so cool.

Then suddenly he asks what university I finished from and what year. Then I say. And he says he went to CU as well, and he’s sister was in my set.

I ask for her name. And Dom. Dom. Dom.

She’s my cousin!

I’m like we’re cousins! – And no, I do not mean those cousins that originate from being from the same village or being neighbours from birth. His mum and my dad are related, somehow.

He’s like “huh”

Then I explain the connection – to the best of my knowledge – pointing out mutual family ties to him and he sits there between disappointment and amusement.

So we’re seated there, for a long silent while – except he said wow and dammit twice each – wondering.

Very awkward moment, I say.

Note to self:

Know your cousins. And your cousin’s cousins. And your father’s brother’s daughter’s baby’s pet as well.

This is how incest happens!

*Cue in African mother’s voice; you cannot marry her, it’s an abomination! Incest! Tufiakwa!!!*

*Fade out*

Of P-Square and QC girls

It’s #TBT, let’s indulge a little!


This happened in the early years of P-Square’s career, before they had uncountable hit songs and the main jam was “With your bizzy body ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

It was far back 2005 when they dropped the Get Squared album and everyone was crazy about it.

We were having one of our many social evenings in QC, I think it had something to do with T&P club (Talents and Potentials) – the main details are fuzzy now. I’m 9 years older.

To the matter!

So we were having a number of artists perform on stage in the hall, I do not remember them ’cause they didn’t cause so much stir like P-Square did.

P-Square got on stage and started with the main jam we were all crazy about – Bizzy Body.

(Let me quickly mention here that they got on stage like Micheal Jackson would have – bless his soul. All the confidence and swag and everything mehn. And QC girls had reacted like Micheal’s fans would have. We were screaming, fainting, tearing our shirts!!! )

While Bizzy body was going on, all the seniors – with already awesome bodies – had pulled out their tucked-in shirts from their skirts, unbuttoned it halfway, tied it up and found their way to the front, where they could be within sight from the superstars as they belly danced.

We the flat ones, we stayed at the back and waited for a more accommodating song, then suddenly, Get squared was up and we moved our masculine bodies in glee 😀

Somewhere between all this fun and excitement, Peter had thrown his head band into the crowd and someone had caught it and was screaming in triumph. The reaction had warmed his heart so much – or so I’d like to think – he decided to go a notch higher.

So he ventures;

“Would you like to go crazy?”

We scream: “YESSSSSSS!!!!!!”

He goes again;

“Would you like to go crazy?”

And we scream even louder!


Then he lifts up his tee-shirt to show us his well sculpted abs!

Somewhere between my gasp and my intention to scream, the stage was filled with girls – with tied-up uniform shirts – struggling to touch those abs!!

Yes, we went crazy!

Oh! It was crazier than either of them would have expected. It was like a mob! I heard they had been slightly injured.

In all, it’s still one of the best live performances I’ve had.

Crazy fun!


If you were in QC at this time, say “Whoop!” beneath :)

The epic childhood story

Were you born in the era when the best chewing gum ever was sold for only two for 5 naira?

No, not Sprint chewing gum, that was two for one naira. *eyeroll* Bomky!

Bomky was in a shiny blue wrap with circles of pink balls all around. The chewing gum in itself was pink. It had this rare quality of being able to blow the largest of balloons, having it burst all over your face and not leaving the littlest trace! It was simply the gum for all! And then it fazed out so quickly :( *one minute silence*

That’s hardly the story to be told.

Now, at the age of about 8, I was ready to be Bomky’s brand ambassador. I bought it, shared it around, chewed it, proclaimed the gospel about it, dreamed of it…. Name it, I did! Bomky was the deal!

There would be four characters in this story. I should introduce them now before I go on, ’cause they would take on peculiar roles in this tale.

Bisi: If you aren’t new here, you should know her. She’s the only sibling I’ve got. But here she played the villain. She’s been a sly sister for as long as I can remember *eyeroll*

Ruka: She was an eleven year old Cotonou girl who stayed with us to help out with chores. Child trafficking thingz! She played the dimwit 😐

Mother: She’s who she is, here

And of course, me :)
I’m as much a hero as it can get.

So, to the “epic” story.

It was a Saturday morning. My sister and I generally spent Saturdays studying and working momma/lesson teacher given homeworks. My dad was out. My mum was about to go out too. Before she left, she stated specifically : “None of you should go out, if I hear that you went out while I’m away, I’ll beat the hell out of you when I get back” (She is who she is, here) and then she left.

Only three seconds after she was out, Bisi said: “I want Bomky”

Now, y’all realize that I’m the ambassador for this brand, I mean what else is branding about if it isn’t’t ensuring a potential consumer is conversed to a loyal one, huh?

I took that statement with all seriousness and said “I’ll gaan buy for us”
“What if mummy catches you?” she asked.
“I’ll be fast, she won’t” I replied.
“Me I’m not there o!” the sly one said.

From somewhere, Ruka adds “I’ll go with you”
I should have known better.

We took 10 naira to buy four and we set out – Ruka and I.
We ran the whole stretch with me singing “Just be limbo, just be quick….” from Fragle rock – in my mind – the whole time. We bought it and turned around to run the whole stretch.

I was a very fit child, there I was basking in the euphoria of “dusting” Ruka while she tried to catch up behind. And then in a moment I looked back and saw my mother’s blue Peugeot 504 bending at the corner. I shouted to Ruka in Yoruba “Mummy’s coming, run!” I don’t know what she heard, but I saw her retreat and head to the car and do a courtesy like she was saying “welcome ma”.

I was rooted to the spot, entranced by her stupidity.

I heard my mum say “I was checking if it was both of you, I wasn’t sure, thank you for helping me confirm, now go and wait for me at home, I’m coming for you.” And with that, Ruka ran back to me, crying in advance.

You know the rest of the gist, my mum did beat the hell out of us and asked us to face the wall, kneel down and put up our hands for the next one hour. Bisi snickered behind with the “I told you so” look.

And yeah, the bomkys, they stayed in the medicine box on the dinning table for the next 6 months till someone threw them out.

I lost my brand endorsement.