… where sa-tyres never go flat
… where sa-tyres never go flat
Before long, Nigeria, with its wealth of experience in the fine art of fighting corruption will extend its Masterclass to many African countries—because who is better to lead the charge than a seasoned expert in the field?
when I think about God
I picture his love for me in parenthesis
(a passover meal of burnt beans)
/ mashed into a fillet of leftover alms /
My grandfather? A jolly old chap he is! But he forbids politics and all government-related palavers. Such things bother him a great deal. Only two things matter to him – pool betting and palm wine. He is simple like that. Anyhow, when I got home and my grandfather pulled me aside to lament how the hardship caused by some imbecile government policies had affected pool betting and the price of palm wine, I knew there was trouble.
Many Nigerians, yourself included, have reached the conclusion that our lives can only truly begin at the airport—one hand clutching our suitcase, the other gripping our visas.
To get on the journey towards societal oblivion, you need your materials ready and available. You’ll need some rolling papers, a filter tip, and the most important ingredient: your preferred substance. Now, I don’t know where to get them, but I can point you to people you can get them from. I see them rolling in the gutters (I mean, “roll a joint to roll in a gutter” doesn’t exactly sound bad); some are chained to beds in the hospital; in fact, I saw one roaming the streets fully unconscious, yet mobile. Haq!
Our leader–Man of the Pee Poo pulls out the car manual, but it’s written in Chinese, a language he can’t comprehend except the “one-year warranty” part. So he begins the journey with the words, “We go run am.” But not long after, a stench reaches the noses of the passengers. With concern, they suggest he hand over to Obi, a more qualified driver, as the journey is too far. However, he dismisses their worries with a nonchalant, “Just get me quality diapers.”
The worker ants are those government workers commuting between anthills of metal and glass, wearing threadbare suits and those fancy puppy leashes they call ties. They weightlift crumbs of the national cake bigger than their own financial size to pay homage to the colonial masters before ultimately falling apart, appendage by appendage, to be sustained only by the trickle of nutrients we call pension.
where I come from
our mothers change prayer houses like fancy clothes
and fathers sometimes ain’t so spiritual
because it’s a woman’s duty to pray for them
They call them a praying mother or wife
Wole has never cared much for politics. But when Bunu ran for president, he whipped out his voice and dedicated every second of his Internet hours to support his campaign. He doesn’t know about the man’s ethics or competence, but he’s from his side of the map and his neighbour’s in-law’s cousin used to work at his company. So you never know.
Recent developments have cast doubt on the bravery of the once-feared lion. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) beckoned on the former governor to explain how ₦82 Billion was looted. In a character unexpected of a lion, he has been hiding in the woods. The Lion, who is renowned for hunting, is now being hunted. How the might has fallen!
