Bwari, My Bwari (2)

Bwari Supermarket (Again????!!!!) ( Sorry I could not resist)

Bwari Pottery

Bwari Pottery products on display

Kitchen products and other stuff made by Bwari Pottery

Some of our pets

Vases (I think...sorry I am not cultured) from Bwari Pottery

Some of our cribs

The Bwari Child

Bwari Area Council (Our Aso Rock, White House, 10 Downing Street, Alausa etc)

Bwari, My Bwari (1)

Usuma Dam ( My favourite place around here )

Stella Obasanjo Child Care Trust (only street without a pothole in Bwari)

Nigerian Law School Entrance ( U like?)

Bwari Supermarket (apologies if you were expecting something like Amigos or Shoprite)

HERO !

I am currently writing a business plan and the business plan guide I am using has a self- assessment section. One of the questions it asks is Describe yourself in one word?. I cant find the right word and so I walk into the kitchen and say “Mummy, describe me in one word apart from CHARMING”.

My mum laughs out loud. She must be clearly overwhelmed by my charm. I move over to my Dad who is in a completely different part of the house and rephrase the question to “Describe me in one word”? His response was CHARMING. Phew! Even obvious to the blind. My mum joins us later and tells me I am “humble but arrogant”. "Its not your place to say you are charming", she says. First of all Mother, (notice the rapid slide from Mummy to Mum to Mother), that your description is a paradox and it is 3 words. Secondly, I was stating a fact. How about pleasant? My father concurs. My mum disagrees. "You are only pleasant to people you like, I see you more as focused than anything else".

You will be wrong for thinking only these positive words are used to describe me. Other terms like "reclusive bastard”, “weird”, “under G”, “anti social”, “bloody wanker” , “nuisance” have been thrown in for good measure and used to describe me. It really depends on who you speak to. Yet, all I ever wanted to be was a HERO. In primary school, I got my friends and foes to make up a song for me. Every time I walked into class, I was hailed with this chant, “Bwari Boy! Bwari Boy!The Hulk Hogan”. Then my head will swell to the point of bursting. Then I fell in love. At least I was convinced it was love. I wanted to be her HERO.

After summoning the courage to speak to her, she gave me a unique response. Not the usual “YOU ARE NOT MY TYPE” or “I WILL THINK ABOUT IT” that Nigerian girls famously gave in those days. She said "you are nice but I like guys with a bit of meat". I am convinced that she had no clue what this meant but was only re-echoing something she heard on tv or heard from her older sisters. Nonetheless, I was not deterred.

YOU WANT MEAT BABY, I WILL GIVE YOU MEAT. I heard some adults say that drinking coke daily will make you fat. So I started drinking coke daily. I begged, borrowed and stole so I could have my daily dose of coke and okin biscuit. After a while, I still wasn’t Schwarzenegger so I upgraded to maltina which I heard made you fat too. My dressing changed as well. I started wearing more sleeveless tops and basketball jerseys so my lover could see my exquisite muscles (think Popeye). I look back now and I laugh. Ah! The things we do for the approval of others. Not sure whether it was peer pressure, insecurity or sheer stupidity but I was a victim and 1st class people pleaser.

As I grew older, I realised my ambition to be a HERO was just a fantasy but somehow I reconnected with another HERO. Then I became a recipient of unconditional love. I became remarkably self assured. It didn’t really matter what people thought anymore. Then I became free. Free to be me and boy! Did I push the freedom envelope. I became less materialistic and it did not matter if I bought my clothes from Tejuosho Market, Carrefour or Asda. As long as I wasn’t naked, I was pleased.

My Hero is called the father of the fatherless, friend to the poor, merciful one, Prince of peace or Saviour of the world. His name is JESUS. I am not attempting to preach here nor present myself as holier than thou. A couple of days ago, My mum was complaining about the kind of music I listen to. She had a point. I cant explain why my most played artists are Tupac and Joe ( its All that I am and not All the things your man wont do o!). Lets not even talk about my jamaican dancehall collection. I guess I am still work in progress. Neither is every experience with Christ pleasant. On good Friday, I was told about the death of a family friend’s son who was too young to go. Over the weekend, the man who I was hoping would be the professional consultant for the very business I am planning for had a heart attack and died. I had read his interviews and watched him on tv. He was a young achiever, so full of promise, so full of life. Yet it was cut short. My easter was just there from then on.

Nonetheless, the Easter story is a wonderful one. Its the story of a loving God who never gave up. His love never gave up. His love never looks back and his love never dies. I write to express my appreciation for the gift of love and the joy and peace that he has given me. Its belated but ...... Happy Easter!

Help! I've been cursed!!!

Someone has cursed me! As we say here, someone has jujued/jazzed me! I suspect Afeez. He prefers to be called "Engineer Afeez". "Engineer Afeez" is the handyman who fixes car a/cs in Bwari. His business card reads Engineer Afeez, Chairman Afeezola Group of Companies. Then the business card goes on to list each company in Afeez’s empire. “Afeezola Engineering”, Afeezola Electrical, Afeezola Electric repair, Afeezola AC repair international”.

I had a problem with my car a/c and so I was directed to Afeez. As soon as I met him, it was obvious that he was a man with an exaggerated view of himself. He told me that he was a busy man but gave me his business card and asked me to call him to fix an appointment. “Oga Afeez, I don’t want to waste credit calling you, please tell me a convenient time for the appointment and I will come back then.” but he insisted I must "follow protocol".

I went back to school and then gave him a call only for him to tell me to come back in 30mins. I was angry. I mean he could just have told me to come back in 30mins, I didnt need to call him. I got there in 30mins and he was not there. I waited for a while and when it was getting too long, I called him and he told me not wait for him, he was fixing the car a/c of “Senator ABC who is a VIP and na big customer”. I called him the next day and we had a gentlemanly chat. He said he could squeeze me at the end of the day after finishing the work he is doing on “ the Minister of so and so’s” fleet of cars.

I got there at the appointed time but Afeez was nowhere to be found. I called several times but he didn’t pick up. I asked a guy who worked there where I could find Afeez. He said he didn’t know. I gave him N50 and his memory suddenly came alive. He directed me to a beer parlour that was neatly tucked in a corner opposite Afeez’s shed. I got there and Afeez was downing a bottle of star. He said I should call the next day to fix a time but from my previous experiences, I knew I could call and he could tell me nonsense like he is in America fixing “Obama’s a/c”. I promised to buy him 3 bottles of star if he fixed the a/c that evening and the offer worked. He did some work on the a/c and it started working. I paid him and he asked about the bottles of beer. "U don see mugu! My friend, get out of the car jo. You made me wait endlessly while you were enjoying your beer”. He felt duped!!!

The a/c worked properly in the morning but it stopped being effective by the afternoon when it became really hot. I had to go back to Afeez. I was certain that he would still be displeased about what occurred the previous day and may not want to fix it. My friend recommended that I go to Bwari market to hire a few thugs. He asked me to supply them with enough ogogoro and take them to Afeez’s shed to “shake him”. "By the time they shake him properly, he will fix your a/c well", my friend concluded. I settled for the less confrontational option of going with an elderly student in his own car. The elderly man pretended that his jeep had an a/c problem but Afeez could only fix it on our campus as the man had an important meeting there. Afeez jumped into the car. None of the nonsense of booking appointment etc. We went to our campus and drove straight to the police station on campus where my car was parked and its a/c waiting to be fixed.

Two policemen were standing by the car. We had become friends when I gave them a lift to Bwari weeks back. The elderly student dropped us and sped off. I told Afeez to please fix my a/c again. Anger was written all over his face but with 2 police officers watching over him, he had to work. After a while, he said the a/c had been fixed. I tested it but it was not cool enough and told him to please do it again. “Let it be so cool so that anyone who is in the car while it is on can easily sleep off”.

Since then I have been suffering from the most acute form of sleeping sickness. I sleep in class. I sleep in the library. I sleep immediately after siesta and the other day, I was nodding off whilst driving. I knew things were really bad one day when I went to the toilet to sit on my throne and before I knew it I was snoozing there too. The funny thing is I am not tired or exhausted, just permanently sleepy. I was complaining to my room mate about this sleeping disease and he advised me to “take it to the Lord in prayer”. I tried that too and I said “In Jesus Name” and slept off only to wake up the next morning to add the “Amen”.

Now I am worried that I am sleeping my future away. I need help. Any ideas? Eating the humble pie and going to pacify Afeez is not an option. Also drinks like lucozade boost, ribena, red bull and coffee have not worked so far. I have drank them and still slept immediately afterwards.

How to motivate Men to buy law books ?

In class the other day, A lecturer wanted to sell us his newly written textbook. Whilst most students did not echo it out loudly, I am sure they were thinking “Oh no – not another latin riddled book with so much legal mumbo jumbo or legal mama jama (make your choice). I am not buying it jo".

Actually, our lecturer was feigning some form of false modesty. He got his colleague to come up and market the book to students. I think his colleague did a great job, at least he succeeded in blowing some big big grammar. However, he left out a crucial piece of information. He finished his sermon and prepared to leave his pulpit when students all chorused “HOW MUCH?”. His reply was "only N2 500". This time the students did not curse the author under their breath – they loudly protested that the cost was too much. He then made the points below.

You don’t look at these things in term of the price but in terms of value. Hmm, He got our attention. For the gentlemen here, say you meet a pretty lady on the campus and you are interested & you want to take her out (Now, he really had my attention). You have to take her to Abuja town as there is nowhere to take her to in Bwari. If you take a cab from here to town, it will cost you at least N3 000 to and fro. That is more than the price of this book. Point Made!

Say you don’t even have a car and you cannot get to borrow one. You have to go by public transport. As she is a lady and you want to give her some measure of comfort, you will have to go in an El-Rufai. (El Rufai is the name given to the coach like buses in the FCT. That will cost you N200 to and fro. You will have to pay for her journey too, as she wont be sitting on your lap just yet. You might need to take one of those small taxis from the bus park to either Tantalizers or Mr Biggs. That should cost you another N200 to and fro for both of you.

When you are in Mr Biggs/Tantalizers, you know women now they cannot eat food without chicken. If she chooses fried rice and chicken, at my conservative estimate that should cost N750. You are not going watch her eat alone are you? If you choose, you are likely to choose the same thing she chose and that is another N750. After the food, you being the gentleman will ask her if she wants anything else and she being a lady will either ask for Ice cream or order a meal that she can bring back here to Bwari in a takeaway pack. By the time you add all the costs, it would be over N2 500. Again, more than the price of this book. Point made!

Now if you have a car, at least you have to fuel it for the journey to town. 10 litres is about N650. Your pretty chikita may take the liberty of inviting two of her other friends as a journey to town is always a treat for you students. Of course, when they appear for the trip you will not be pleased as their presence would spoil whatever plans you had for the evening at worst, or at best, increase the costs you might have to bear. Of course, you wont be seeing them as your love interest’s 2 friends, you will seem them as either as 2 intruders or 2 witches. There is not much you can do about it as their friend is your target and their impression of you is important. No doubt, that you will equally spend more than N2 500.

In all of these scenarios, you have invested about or over N2 500 of your money with no guaranty of success. You dont know if the lady is fertile soil or not and if your efforts will succeed in bearing fruit. Women can eat your chicken & Ice cream even when they know you dont have a chance. If you buy this book, it is yours. It will stand by you. You can read it and it should help your understanding of this course and improve your performance at the bar finals.

During the break, I went to the law school bookshop (not to buy the book I promise) and I saw a long queue of men waiting to buy the textbook. My goodness! They had seen the light!

My N150 challenge

I don’t make new year resolutions. There are so many things I would like to change or improve in my life but I have noticed that when I make these resolutions, I break them almost immediately. However, I was willing to make an exception this year. My resolution was that I will meet this global economic crisis, Head on! Na fire for fire o.

During the xmas holiday, My mum showed me a newspaper interview granted by a respectable Nigerian banker. The banker said the global economic crisis would negatively affect us and he warned Nigerians to be cautious. One memorable quote I took from his interview was “you don’t stop a tidal wave by carrying a bucket”. Kai! I am in hot soup o. This man is predicting some bad sturvz men, I need to take drastic measures.

I stopped reading Thisday style (ok temporarily) and re-read books like “Think and Grow Rich”, “Richest Man in Babylon”, “Tough times don’t last but tough people do” and “Rich Dad Poor Dad” to get ideas on how to protect my fortune. (Dont ask me what fortune? Please let me continue deluding myself). You must learn to legitimately make, manage and multiply your money, these books said to me. But how can I make money as a student?

I thought of employing someone who would buy phone recharge cards in bulk at a discount and then sell it to students: Mum said it was a crap idea. I thought of supplying bread like Big Treat/Butterfield to the retailers on campus: friends thought it was too elitist. I thought of buying a bike and employing someone to be an Okada rider in Bwari while I reap the profits. Parents said bikes were too dangerous and asked what would happen if my Okada rider rode/ran away with my bike. As I was finding it hard to conceive an exceptional idea that will keep me smiling to the bank, I thought it was best to adopt another recurring theme in these books and this was to “live beneath your means”.

Yes ke! “Live beneath my means” was now my motto for 2009. No more meatpies daily. Ice cream can only be bought once a month. I will eat Cabin biscuit instead of shortbread. Car will be washed thrice a week instead of daily. I will shop more often at the market instead of the supermarket etc etc.(Are you feeling sorry for me yet). I thought I was doing well until one bug-a-boo who thinks he is my friend asked if I could live on N150 daily. “Of course”, I bellowed. Well, lets bet and see you try it tomorrow. Kai! This stupid mouth of mine that opens before I think has put me in trouble. My ego was at stake and I did not want Mr Bug-a-boo to make a mockery of me. I submitted my cash, my atm card and braced up for the challenge.

NEXT DAY
7.00am –Crooksy walked into my room to announce that I had a flat tyre and I couldn’t use my spare tyre as it wasnt properly patched. He needed N250 to patch it. The devil is a liar. If I pay N250 to patch the tyre, then I have lost the bet even before the day begins. I told Crooksy to forget about patching the tyre. I’ll walk to school today. Crooksy asked if my head was intact? Idiot! It is his head that is not intact. He said he will go and pray that the strong harmattan wind does not blow me away as I walk to class.

7.10am – My plan for the day was to buy a big N120 loaf, eat it all day and then go back and announce to Mr Bug-a-boo that I even lived on less than N150. However, I went from stall to shop at the mammy market and all the loaves were N180 and above. After costing all the cheap biscuits, I settled for the 3 for N20 Malted Milk biscuit deal. So I had biscuits and water for breakfast. Nothing do me! At least, I have N130 remaining for lunch and dinner.

7.45am – I was not allowed to enter the lecture auditorium as my shoes were dirty. Unknown to me, they had gathered dust whilst I was roaming mammy market looking for breakfast. I walked to my hostel to polish my shoes and then walked back to the auditorium. By now, the little energy I got from the biscuits had reduced sharply.

9.40am – Serious hunger started to catch me and my stomach was preparing to rumble. You see it makes noise when its empty. At first it was just a few sounds but by 10am, the full stomach orchestra was dishing out some melodious tunes. I got menacing looks from the girl sitting next to me but I always smiled back. I hoped my smile said “I had biscuits for breakfast. Look on the bright side sweety, at least I’m not farting”.

11.00am – Break time and I hitched a ride to mammy market. I needed a cure for the stomach noisemaking. After some rigorous thought, I settled for buying a N20 wrap of garri. To cut costs, I had to forgo buying sugar with it. At least, I still had N110 for lunch or dinner. I soaked the garri in a huge bowl with lots of water and sang the prayer of Jabez “Oh that you would bless me indeed and enlarge my territory”. The garri swelled and I marvelled at my own ingenuity. It was a feast. Hunger cured.

4.00pm – I was hungry again. I had thought I could hold till about 6pm so I would just have a big dinner but not so. The cheapest restaurant was selling the cheapest meal ( a plate of rice and meat for N130). Can I pay N110 for the N130 meal? How much is it without the meat? Can you sell me a half plate instead and I’ll pay half price? After some persuasion, they agreed to sell me half plate with no meat for N75. I am sure this was a first for them. Then it was time to pay and I could only see N60 in my pocket? My other N50 note had simply vanished. Can I pay N60 for this N75 half plate? Sadly, I was out of luck and I was kicked out of the place.

4.15pm- I went to Mama Indomie’s place with the intention of buying her N50 Indomie. Unfortunately, her stall was closed. My last option was to go back and buy the N20 wrap of garri. At least, I can also afford to buy N20 sugar with it this time. Whilst I was buying the garri, the shop attendant told me that the juices I had been bugging them for had arrived. Why is the Dangote Group doing like this? I was hooked on their Dansa fruit juices. Just when I was thinking of going to rehab to cure this addiction, they outdid themselves by introducing some exotic flavour combinations(Peach, Pineapple and Coconut, Tropical ,Orange and Mango etc). As if that was not enough, they had just introduced this delightful Ziza Milk drink into the market. ALL THESE DRINKS WERE IN THE SHOP.

This was the last lap but I had a serious dilemma. Should I buy the garri and probably win my bet or Should I just jump at these lovely delicious drinks that I had been craving to drink for a while? I stuck to the garri and soaked it in a mighty pool of water to enlarge and I drank it. I won my bet. I went to bed early. I must confess though that I did not sleep well. I had far more garri than my stomach could contain and it was just swimming in the ocean of water in my stomach all night. Guess the first thing I did the next day when the limitation on my spending had been taken away.

Mama Indomie !!!

The objective was simple – I went to the library to read my books. I turned up at the library and as for the other objective, lets just say it was one of those days. The contents of the book did not just get into my head. I tried reading the book normally. No luck! I tried reading and jotting, No luck! I tried reading the book upside down, No luck! I imagined that the two ladies next to me were Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie and sitting next to such hotties should motivate me to read, still no luck!

I left the library frustrated and a tad bit depressed. Then Mama Indomie came to the rescue. She is my favourite person on the law school campus. Her claim to fame is that she sells Indomie Noodles. Her indomie centre is located in one small room in the school’s only shopping mall. (I am still trying 2 figure out why it is called a shopping mall given the fact that it is a single building with one small room as a supermarket and an even smaller room which Mama Indomie and her stove shares with another guy who sells shawarma.

I went to order a shawarma and Mama Indomie says “shawarma again, this is year 2009”. Then she says “My Brother let me pray for you”. I am like why now ? There is a little queue in there and she says loudly that last year “Monday, you chop shawarma, Tuesday shawarma etc till she satisfactorily lists all the days to prove that I ate shawarma daily. This isn’t accurate but the point is that she has a bone to pick with me because I have never bought her Indomie. She concludes and says “I must sell Indomie to you today In Jesus Name”.

Her prayer doesn’t quite move me, I stick to my shawarma order. Other folks on the queue are also waiting for shawarma. Mama Indomie isn’t happy about this and so begins to complain really loudly arguing that "Indomie is N50, schwarma is N300, Indomie will be ready in 5 mins, shawarma in 30mins". She concludes that the same way we are queuing to buy shawarma is the same way we will be queuing to “shit” the next day.

Some girls on the queue tell her to quit the shit talk. Instead, Mama Indomie peps it up and argues that if you buy her Indomie, you wont even shit as much as if you buy schwarma. Whats more, she adds, the shit from Indomie is smooth and easy. In her words “ Indomie is thin, your bottom go just remove am jejely. It will come out like this rere! rere! rere!.. But shawarma, e go dey fire your bottom and it will be like you are bombing the toilet. Then she makes sounds like Gbosa! Pa! Po! Boom! Gba! to buttress her point. We laugh!

She said "you think I am joking, ask my brother on the queue" and points to me. No not me please Mama Indomie, I am a law student not a shit expert. She continued “my brother eats shawarma regularly and that is why he is thin. He has used all his power to shit... Abi my broda I dey lie? She mistook my silence/slight smile as a go ahead. "My brother is a regular eater of this thing and so he is also a regular shitter. I am sure his shit na 3 square shit. Morning session, Afternoon session and night o". I dont respond and she thinks I dont get her humour and explains that "3 square shit" has been derived from "3 square meals".

Thankfully, my shawarma was ready. I paid quickly and Mama Indomie waved at me wishing me a safe journey to my room and an even safer journey to the toilet the next day.