Tuesday 30 August 2016

ADVENTURES OF MR. FAARI: TONIA HAS COME FOR RETURN LEG

Guess who came calling last weekend? It was Tonia. You don’t know Tonia? Are you that forgetful? She was the girl we picked at Ekpoma on our way to Agbor! Tonia came to Lagos live and direct and as usual I did not disappoint her.

When the receptionist buzzed me that I had a visitor in her Office and that her name was Tonia. I knew I had to cancel all other engagements I had for that weekend. I instructed her to send her in.

She burst in like a rocket and started accusing me of not phoning her or picking her calls.
“You Lagos guys are all the same. You could not call me and when I called, you refused to pick my calls. Well if your mountain refused to come to my Mohammed, My Mohammed has decided to come to your mountain”. She concluded I could not even say a word. I was thinking of the birthday party I had for that evening. I apologized for my inability to call her and informed her of the party I had that evening. My earlier intention was to go to the party from the office but because of Tonia, I had to go home so that she could fresh up and change to more decent clothes.
Tonia’s presence in my office has really destabilized me. I could not concentrate again. She was feeding on me with her eyes and checking on her wrist watch intermittently. Why the hurry? You’ll ask.

Immediately I finish the file on my table, I left the office with Tonia. When we got home, I did not bargain for what I saw, my intention was for both of us to fresh up, change our dresses and go for the party. It was meant to be a cock tail affair among few friends.

“Faari, (that was Tonia calling me) we are not attending any party. We are having our own party here. You should also inform your other girls to steer clear of this house until Monday. My dear, you are under house arrest!”

I opened my mouth, I could not close it, When I regained my speech, I said “Tonia, what you are doing is tantamount to kidnap, are you from the South – South? “Call it what you like lover boy; If you like call me a militant!” She fired back.
A song came to my mind and I started humming it:
“Efrebor, Efrebor you go…”
Don’t tell me you don’t know that song.

BEHAVE RESPONSIBLY; AIDS IS REAL.

FEMININE FLAIRS: WHEN YOU ARE TOO CHOOSY

By Bukky Idowu

I was jogging along with my girl friends; Three of us, one lovely Saturday morning when we bumped into some guys taking an early morning stroll, they were discussing football. I noticed one of my friends turning her neck as we kept on jogging. Suddenly, she was lagging behind. I ran back and jolted her back to reality.     
      
What could make her loose her concentration like that?  When we stopped I asked her the reason for her action. She had been itching to make friend with one of the guys in the group for over a year but lacked the courage to walk up to him.

We all agreed to help her out that morning. This friend was single and still searching. Mr. Right has always eluded her. Our friend was too choosy. We all turned back. Fortunately the guys had branched at the popular eatery in our estate. We joined them in their discussion.

The English premier league was the topic. This was a familiar terrain because we all have our different football clubs which we held allegiance to mine was Arsenal football clubs; The Gunners! The guys ordered drinks for us and we became intimated. Our friend did not allow the opportunity to slip by, she moved close to her choice.

After some minutes, she excused herself from the guy and tapped me on my shoulder as she walked pass. I followed her, when we were out of ear shut, she exclaimed. “This guy is handsome quite alright. He is highly educated with good job and he is equally single, but his dentition is horrible. The frontal lower ones overlapped. I cannot date him” That was how she disqualified her potential suitor again. This is the fourth in a month.

See who was complaining. This friend was a plus-size whom age was not her side. Well we could not force her to like what she hated. We thanked the guys for their hospitality and left.
Ladies, please we are in a jet age, if you don’t do what you ought to do at the right time and you let the time pass you by passing the time, you might end up a failure. Time they say, wait for no one. Ciao!



FEMININE FLAIRS: WHEN YOU ARE TOO CHOOSY

By Bukky Idowu

I was jogging along with my girl friends; Three of us, one lovely Saturday morning when we bumped into some guys taking an early morning stroll, they were discussing football. I noticed one of my friends turning her neck as we kept on jogging. Suddenly, she was lagging behind. I ran back and jolted her back to reality.     
      
What could make her loose her concentration like that?  When we stopped I asked her the reason for her action. She had been itching to make friend with one of the guys in the group for over a year but lacked the courage to walk up to him.

We all agreed to help her out that morning. This friend was single and still searching. Mr. Right has always eluded her. Our friend was too choosy. We all turned back. Fortunately the guys had branched at the popular eatery in our estate. We joined them in their discussion.

The English premier league was the topic. This was a familiar terrain because we all have our different football clubs which we held allegiance to mine was Arsenal football clubs; The Gunners! The guys ordered drinks for us and we became intimated. Our friend did not allow the opportunity to slip by, she moved close to her choice.

After some minutes, she excused herself from the guy and tapped me on my shoulder as she walked pass. I followed her, when we were out of ear shut, she exclaimed. “This guy is handsome quite alright. He is highly educated with good job and he is equally single, but his dentition is horrible. The frontal lower ones overlapped. I cannot date him” That was how she disqualified her potential suitor again. This is the fourth in a month.

See who was complaining. This friend was a plus-size whom age was not her side. Well we could not force her to like what she hated. We thanked the guys for their hospitality and left.
Ladies, please we are in a jet age, if you don’t do what you ought to do at the right time and you let the time pass you by passing the time, you might end up a failure. Time they say, wait for no one. Ciao!



KSA AT 70: AN X-RAY OF THE MUSIC COLOSSUS


 
Come Thursday 22 September, this year, the music legend, Otunba Anthony Sunday Ishola Adeniyi Adegeye, known worldwide as King Sunny Ade, will be 70 years old. In the spate of five decades of his music career, this music monarch has established himself globally.
KSA was born on September 22, 1946 in Osogbo to the family of Pa Samuel Adeniyi Adegeye an Ondo Prince and Madam Mariam Adegeye.
In this special birthday anniversary write up, Femi Abulude, the Publisher goes down memory lane to celebrate his former boss. Abulude was employed by King Sunny Ade from Prime Publications Nigeria Limited as his Image maker in 1992. He became the band manager of the African Beats, the Administrative manager of KSA Holdings and the General Manager of SIGMA Disc Nigeria Limited. He was also the co-author of Hooked to music a book written on the music icon to mark his 50th birthday in 1996.


GROWING UP:
I started my primary school at the African Primary School, Isale-Ijebu in Osogbo in 1954. I had to switch to Methodist Primary School, Isale Aro, also in Osogbo because of my interest in music. Methodist had a musical band then, courtesy of the Boys Brigade unit; 2nd Osogbo unit they called it. I joined this club immediately and became a functional member as a drummer.
At school, I was rascally, but loved to read and wanted to know everything. I wanted to play football, play tennis, participate in athletics and even drive vehicles. I played for the school Team, was part of the school relay team, and was made the school prefect. I was noted for neatness.
As I grew older, my interest in music increased. At that early age, I loved dancing, real dancing. I also had this love for people playing instruments and whatever music they churned out. I always wanted to be part of them. I derived a lot of joy in dancing, and became a good dancer such that people appreciated and clapped whenever I danced.
Before I finished primary school, I have joined Sunday Ariyo’s band and later Idowu Owoeye’s band, both in Osogbo. Even as a student of Saint Charles Grammar School, Oshogbo, I was a full-time member of Idowu Owoeye’s band; it was with the band that event which turned me into a professional musician took place.
We were in Abeokuta for the coronation of Oba Gbadebo II as the Alake of Egba-Land. Coronations of such first class rulers were big event running into weeks, and we had thought that we would make enough money from Alake’s coronation. It was holiday time, so there was no cause for both my mother and the school authority to disallow me from embarking on the trip.
But we did not make money, and we were stranded in Abeokuta for more than three weeks. The lorry we hired left us in the town since we could not pay. It was a terrible experience. One of us, late Ayo Oyeleye told me of his intention to go to Lagos and joined Moses Olaiya’s band. He eventually left for Lagos, leaving us in Abeokuta.
As the youngest member of the band, my total share of our income in Abeokuta was three shillings. I had this on me and lived on crumbs from errands I ran for older members of the group. Now, with just three shillings, I could not go back to Osogbo.
I remembered Brother Oyeleye who has left us some two weeks earlier and must have been playing with Moses Olaiya’s Group.
Perhaps, if a got him in Lagos, I could raise enough money for my journey back to Osogbo. Therefore, I left for Lagos, after roaming the streets of Lagos from Cappa to Obalende back to Cappa, I later found an help who took me to  Odi-Oro where I saw the bill board of Moses Olaiya’s group.
The leader, Moses Olaiya, had gone to work at the Public Works Department, and I met Brother Oyeleye sleeping. He advised me not to go back to Osogbo and introduced me to Moses Olaiya who took me immediately like a son. I had no option than to join him, more for the way he treated me like his own son than any initial intention to stay in Lagos. At Osogbo the family was worried about me. My mother, expectedly, was down, terribly down over my whereabouts. What later served as a comfort was the lie I sent home that I had enrolled in school. It would be more disastrous to confess that I had become a full-time musician, an apprentice musician for that matter.

FORMATION OF HIS BAND
Very much against familiar stories about the formation of other musician groups, juju music groups in particular, the formation of my band was as peculiar as it was accidental.
My boss, Moses Olaiya, held another job at the Lagos Town council and was therefore, this particular day, unable to lead the band at its regular joint, the Palace Hotel, Breadfruit Street, Lagos where we played every Wednesday. Although I was very young in age compared to other members of the Moses Olaiya’s band, and was rather known on the Conga drums, the leadership fell on me that night.
It was a night of real surprise, accidental but very glorious surprise. Unknown to many of our fans, I had taught myself how to play the guitar, and was in fact very much on the brighter side. A rare opportunity, it was, therefore to play my heart out to the surprise of everybody. Chief Tunde Amuwo, the leader of the High Society Band, who was a close friend of my boss, Moses Olaiya was particularly impressed.
He was damn too amazed to hide his feelings and shouted; “So you can play guitar? I will tell your boss. You don’t mean it? So you can play like this? I have instruments, are you interested?
The following Wednesday, he saw me on my regular drums, the conga and he called my boss to inform him of his interest to provide his instruments for my use. After inspecting the instruments at the Westend Coliseum, Moses Olaiya said I should go and form my own band assuring me that “I will be a sort of monitor.”
I didn’t believe my boss and had to frantically explain to him of my innocence in the whole episode so as to erase any impression that I particularly went to Chief Amuwo for the instruments. But Olaiya was, and I believe he is still, a man of immense kindness, He gave me three months vacation from his band to research towards the formation of my group.

HOW I GOT MY BAND
I only knew of Tunde Michael Babalola my close friend, who was playing with another band. I invited him, and he also went in search of some friends but no luck. Anyway, I was able to get eight boys together. That marked the formation of Sunny Adex and his High Society Band, which later became Sunny Ade and his Green Spot band and much later to Sunny Ade and His African beats.
JUJU CROWN
The Sketch, Newspaper conducted an opinion poll in 1977 for people to say who their musician of the year was. I came top and it was the Alaafin of Oyo, His Royal Majesty. Oba Lamidi Adeyemi, who crowned me as the king.

HONOURS AND AWARDS
KSA has been accorded several recognitions both here in Nigeria and abroad. His offices and home are adorned with various plagues, shields and chieftaincy memorabilia. Among these awards are: Grand Star of Nigerian music, KORA Award, Honorary doctorate awards, etc. KSA is also a holder of MFR: the highest national honours receive by any musician in Nigeria to date.

The affection team congratulates King Sunny Ade and wishes him many happy returns.

Tuesday 16 August 2016

WAKA MUSIC CAN NOT DIE – Queen Benny Black

My name is Adesola Abeni a.k.a Queen Benny Black. I have been in this waka music business for more than two decades. I have some musical records to my credit. These are; millennium accord, Fresh water, Oore lope, waka time, Arise etc.

On the similarity of her name with the waka icon, Queen Salawa Abeni, she has this to say. “Both of us bear the name Abeni. It is just a coincidence. Another coincidence is the same type of music that we play.”

I respect her a lot. She had paved the way for younger waka artistes with due respect to Alhaja Batili Alake, Queen Salawa brought modernity to waka. She is the one that raised the bar.

Benny Black did not agree that waka music is dying. “No, no, no, waka music is not dying, instead it is waxing stronger. I went on musical tour of South Africa last year. The acceptance was tremendous. We are even preparing for another tour before the end of the year.”

If you have been following the musical trend closely, you will realize that it is the inclusion of local content in the hip-hop and R x B music genre that paved way for their local popularity and global acceptance

One can easily identify “Juju, Fuji, Waka and Apala in their lyrics rhythm.” Will Queen Benny Black make herself available for collaboration with other artistes? “Yes, why not. I am even planning one. We would go into the studio before our tour.”

ADVENTURES OF MR. FAARI: EKPOMA EN – ROUTE AGBOR!

You are looking at me; you will not help me pray against these temptations. Don’t leave the preaching and praying to my Oga alone. The flesh is weak o!
Apart from women, another past time that I enjoy is travelling, therefore when Ekele, my friend, invited me to a party at Agbor in Delta State, I accepted the invitation enthusiastically.

Ekele has just bought a new car. I hope you understand what I mean. I don’t mean the “tear – rubber” type of car. How many people can afford that now? What I am talking about is the fairly used one, fondly refers to as “Tokunbo”. We therefore decided to set out in this car.

Having settled the issue of transportation, I asked Ekele if I could invite one of my girl friends in Lagos or better still phone the one in Benin to prepare for us. Ekele said I should not bother myself as he had already arranged for us at Ekpoma in Edo State. The idea sounded nice as I have never been to that University town.
When we got to Ekpoma, we drove straight to Chichi’s house. Chichi was Ekele’s girl friend. He had talked fondly of this girl on our way, therefore when I saw her, I knew without being told that she must be Chichi. She fitted into what Ekele had described. Chichi was very pretty and accommodating.

She too had prepared for us because it did not take her much time before she picked her bag and led us out of her room. As we were entering the car, I drew Ekele aside and reminded him of his earlier promise. Despite my whispering, Chichi heard me and said I should exercise patience as she had arranged a friend of hers and the girl was already waiting for us. We took off.
As we were negotiating a bend that led to the main road, I sighted a beautiful girl who mounted on a commercial motorcycle. The rider was speeding away at the opposite direction. The girl was big and dark “Boy o’ boy, I like this girl!” I did not know how the words escaped from my mouth.
Chichi turned to me at the back of the car and asked if I preferred the girl. I answered in affirmative, she asked Ekele to turn the car and pursue the motorcycle rider, when we caught up with him, we told him to park. The boy panicked but the girl saw Chichi and asked; “Chichi love, are you still in town? “I learnt you were travelling this weekend”. As she asked this question Chichi told her to alight from the bike. She alighted and paid the rider.
“Tonia, you have to go back home and pick your bag. We shall be going to Agbor together”. Chichi ordered her. Tonia did not object. She opened the door and entered the car and sat beside me.

Before we left Ekpoma, Tonia and I were chatting as if we had known each other for years. Ekele and Chichi sat in front and Tonia and I sat at the back. She was naturally endowed at vital regions; my friends know this is my weakness.
When we got to Agbor on Friday evening, we checked into our hotel room and we didn’t open our door until 11:00am the following day. The sound of someone knocking at the door brought us into reality. I jumped out of the bed asked who it was. It was Chichi. I opened the door for her. She greeted us and asked amusively if I took proper care of her friend. Egbo, who took care of whom?

BEHAVE RESPONSIBLY; AID IS REAL

UNCLE JIMMY IS A BEAST

I grew up to know my mum as my only parent. The idea I had of my Dad was so faint that I could hard guess how he really looked like. Whenever we asked of his where about, mum always told us that he had travelled abroad since and he had not come back. How can somebody travel just like that and would not venture to write or phone his family? I wondered.
Many at times, especially when our mum maltreated us, my younger brother, Jide and I used to ponder on this issue of our dad’s absence.
 We eventually got a clue to the misery when I was about ten years old. Mum had a squabble with one of our neighbours, Aunty Odun.
This young woman was the third wife of her rich husband. We learnt she was always quarrelling with the other wives and the members of the man’s extended family. Her matter became worse because she was yet to have a child. Rumor had it that Alhaji Danmole was her sugar daddy right from her secondary school days. And that the last abortion she had for him almost claimed her life. She had had two failed marriages before she met Alhaji again. Both of them decided to live together as husband and wife.
There was a huge quarrel that involved almost everybody in the household. Alhaji’s mother intervened. Aunty Odun accused her of taking sides. She even brought the police to arrest the old woman. Danmole was scandalized. He was still infatuated to this lady. Instead of sending her away, he decided to rent a house for her few kilometers away from his house. That was how Aunty Odun started living alone.
Aunty Odun’s tongue was very sharp. One thing led to the other and our mother called her a childless witch. Only God knew how she was able to gather the information she used in abusing our mum on that day. She called her a useless harlot. She narrated with gusto how she used her feminine assets to get undeserved promotions in her place of work. It was because she was earning more salary than her husband that she turned him into her servant. How she used to bring men to her matrimonial home in the presence of the helpless man.
“Asewo bastard!” she yelled, “You think we don’t know how your Oga’s wives used to harass you in the office because of the evil spell you cast on their husbands? How many men had slept with you this month alone in this house? Answer me now?”
“We know how you were maltreating your husband before the poor man decided to vacate the house for you. If not because of his family members who contributed money for him to travel abroad, the man could have been dead by now. Do you think you can abuse me and go scot free? You don’t know me at all!”
Aunty Odun went on and on. Mum was enraged. She rushed at her and gave her the beating of her life. Aunty Odun was all mouth; she was not a match for mum in the physical realm. When neighbours could not settle the fight, police were called in and both of them were whisked away. They were let off the hook after some hours; Alhaji Danmole brought his wife and Uncle George brought mum home. The two men slept with their ladies that night.
It was this quarrel that mum had with Aunty Odun that gave us the clue to what happened between our parents with a renewed assurance that my dad was still alive somewhere with a bright prospect, I allowed the issue to rest as that.
True to what Aunty Odun alleged, mum was still bringing in her various male partners. There was this young man, Uncle Jimmy, who should be in his late twenties, he used to sleep in our house periodically.
I thought he was pursuing some matter in one of the government parastatals. He would come from Benin late in the evening and rush out early in the morning to meet up with his appointment. He would come back in the afternoon dejected and spent. Mum would always console him and assure him that everything would soon be alright. I got to know later on that the man was pursuing a visa to travel abroad.
One evening, mum came back from work with Uncle Jimmy. This was unusual though. I soon knew the reason. Both of them were happy and mum kept on congratulating him. I learnt he had succeeded in obtaining the elusive visa at last. And that was why he branched at her office to inform her. Before we could wake up the following morning, (we woke up late though being a Saturday). Uncle Jimmy had left.
He came the following week and spent three days in our house. He would go out in the morning and come back with a lot of goods. He must have been doing some shopping. He would invite me to his room, where I would assist him in sorting his things out. He would embrace me, hug me, kiss me straight in the mouth and pinched my bum-bum. All these seemed strange to me, because each touch arose some funny sensations in me that I could not fathom. I thought he was doing all these because of his success at the embassy.
On the third day, this was his take-off day, when everybody had gone out; mum had gone to work, Jide, my younger brother had gone to school and I was preparing to go for computer lesson (I had to go for this training in order to beat boredom before my resumption in the polytechnic) I was about sixteen years old then.
Uncle Jimmy called me to his room. I thought he wanted me to assist him as usual. I was wrong. He held my hand and was telling me how much he loved me; how he would come to pick me after settling down. He would want me to be his wife. He said we should start planning for that future now by doing what husband and wife use to do.
As he was talking, he was practically pulling off my gown. I pushed him off and tried to scream. I ran towards the door. He ran after me and dragged me back into the room. He carried me and spread me flat on the bed. He pulled my gown up and used it to cover my mouth.
He used his left hand to pin me down and used the other one to untie his towel. His manhood, the biggest I ever saw then, was pointing menacingly at me… nodding like agama lizard. Without being told, I knew I was in for a serious trouble. He spread my legs wide apart and tried to enter me. He got stuck. When he made several futile attempts, he got up, went to the dressing table. I peeped at him and saw that he was rubbing some cream on his manhood. Before he could finish this, I made another attempt at the door.
He gave me a sliding tackle and I landed on bare flour. There, right on the floor, Uncle Jimmy jumped on me spread my legs again and drove that hot bludgeon into my private part. I felt a searing pain between my groins.
I tried to raise my head as he was pumping in and out menacingly as if his entire existence depended on it. I realized that his manhood was soaked with blood, my blood!. The pain was becoming unbearable. I held his arm and gave him a bite. He sustained a deep cut and blood was gushing out of his arm. He seemed unperturbed by this wound; the beast was enjoying his send off feast.
I was praying silently that the siege should end fast. After several pounding and jerking that seemed like eternity, Uncle Jimmy gave a shuddering jerk and collapsed on top of me like a deflated balloon. He rolled over, jumped on his feet and sauntered into the bathroom. He seemed to have enjoyed it all.
Come and see, the future husband who was talking about marriage and love few minutes ago. He did not even care how I felt. He left me there on the floor. Before he could come back from the bathroom, I stood up. I could not walk properly, but managed to stager to my room. I locked myself in and phoned my mum in the office. I explained all what happened to her.
She was furious on phone and asked me to play along with him. She said I should not give him the impression that I had called her. How could I play along with this beast of a man? I was the one who went through the ordeal not her. I decided to stay put in my room.
About an hour and half later on I had my mum’s voice. She was banging on my room’s door. When I opened the door, I saw her with a man and a woman in police uniform. She must have reported to the police. They were just asking for Uncle Jimmy. “Where is the man?” The police officer asked. I pointed to his room.
When we got to his room, there was no trace of Uncle Jimmy. He had packed all his belongings and left for good.
Mum broke down and wept bitterly; she made some calls and it was confirmed that Uncle Jimmy’s flight which was supposed to take off in the midnight had been re – scheduled for 4:00 pm that day.
She lamented that Uncle Jimmy was not our relative. He was introduced to her by one of her numerous male acquaintances. Uncle Jimmy was the man’s school son.
You see how my mummy’s free life-style had rubbed off on me negatively. How can I ever forget the ordeal I went through in the hands or should I say in the groins of Uncle Jimmy. What a harrowing way to start womanhood.






EBUBE NASTY!

 My mum, Ebube did not know her parents. The duo died in an auto crash on their way from Benin to the village in the eastern part of the country. She leant that she was also in the ill – fated car, but was rescued unscathed from the wreck. The onus of raising her then rested on her maternal grandmother, mama Uju. Mum never lacked good things of life. She grow to be a spoilt child and a tomboy. Mama Uju was dotting over her like a hen to her chick. Because of this over protection and indulgence, she was able to commit some grievous offences and went scot-free un like her peers.
I was told that she once slapped a male student-teacher who pinched her buttocks, when she was in the secondary school. When the issue was investigated, the horny teacher was sent off from the school and Ebube became a folk heroine among her mates. She even had a nickname; everybody was calling her Ebube Nasty!
As she was known for her notoriety in the village, Ebube was said to be very brilliant in her educational pursuits. When she sat for her secondary school final papers, she came out in flying colours. Mama Uju was very proud of her granddaughter and she grew wings and became uncontrollable. She was a regular figure at night parties and always on nocturnal trips, even outside the village, this weird development sent some jilters into Mama Uju. All her treats and entreaties to stem this behavior failed.

Respite eventually came. Whether it was the best option was controvertible. A young guy had just come back home from Dublin on vacation. Kalu’s (that was his name) Parents did not want him to go back to Dublin without a wife. He agreed to their request but with a proviso; the bride to be must be educated or possess a good result that would put her on a good stead to continue her education in Dublin. Ebube readily fitted in. The mariage rites were hurriedly arranged and performed. Her travelling documents were expressive processed and perfected and the new couple left the shores of Nigeria for their base in Dublin. Mum got pregnant in her first month in Dublin. Because of this development, she had to suspend her educational pursuit.

When I was born, I was taken to a foster home in order for my mum to prepare for her matriculation examinations. She was successful and offered admission to study nursing.
There was a snag though, the couple did not have enough financial clout to foot the educational bills and still cater for my up-keep. Contrary to the impression my dad gave when he came home on vacation, though he was well educated, he had not secured a permanent job. It was then resolved that I should be taken to Nigeria, this was hurriedly done and my paternal grandparents became my foster parents. My mum passed out from her school and was employed in the same teaching hospital. She gave birth to three other children, three boys in a tow and were all raised in Dublin.

I grew up in Nigeria and qualified as an English language teacher with combined honours in English language and education. My siblings were calling me Nigerian made. When they say Niger made I would answer them Proudly Nigerian!

I met this charming young man at a wedding ceremony. It was on that same day that the propose marriage to me. Though I liked him I found his request ridiculous and unbelievable. I was the chief bride made at the wedding ceremony, while Dan was the best man. After some months of playing hard to get, I gave in to his request and we started courtship. He was handsome, intelligent and comfortable.

After meeting into his parents, I traveled to Dublin to intimate my parents about the wedding arrangement. As promised during my visit, they came for the ceremony my mum brought the wedding gown, rings and other accessories. And even Dan’s wedding suits and pair of shoes were provided by her.

She had got our measurements during my last visit to Dublin.
My parents liked Dan. He two liked them. He even remarked enthusiastically once-“What a happy family you have Ini, I’m very proud of you all”.
An unbelievable thing happened in the week preceding my wedding day. Precisely three days to the D-day, we were putting finishing touches to the wedding arrangement, going through all what we had done and the one yet to be accomplished  when mum quietly called on Dad and said, “Honey, you won’t lead Ini to the alter on her wedding day. It will be morally wrong of you to do so” I thought my ears were playing some tricks on me. I pinched myself to make sure make that I was not dreaming.

“Dear, what are you talking about? Are you out of your senses? Is the tension of this marriage taking its toll on you?” It was my Dad that was talking. I decided to chip in something to douse the tension.

“Mum you…” She did not allow me to finish my sentence before she continued her verbal diarrhea.”Ini my daughter, you can’t understand. The truth must be told. I have wronged Oritse a lot. I must return what is his to him. Kalu, the truth is that barely a month before you came home on your vacation to pick me for marriage. A burial ceremony took place in the village. One of the daughters of the deceased, Aunty Vero, who was my cousin, came with her fiancĂ©, whom she later got married to. A friend accompanied this man and I got intimated with him. I was his partner and lover throughout his stay in the village. It was after he left that I realized I had missed my monthly period. I was at the verge of sending messages to Aunty Vero to intimate her on my predicament when you came on the scene. Before I could put my acts together, you were talking about marriage and both families were all over me. I could not think straight before we travelled out.”

The issue had been pricking my conscience all these years. Respite came when we had to send Ini back to Nigeria for upbringing. Why I have decided to return Ini to her real Dad is that I met Aunty Vero some years ago during one of my trips to Nigeria. She told me that Oritse’s wife died during child birth. Since then, he had not got another child. Two other women, whom he settled down with on separate occasions, each left him without producing any child.”   “These women are now proud mothers in their respective homes, while Oritse remained childless. A meeting was arranged and I told him about his daughter. We have been on constant communication since and he is equally preparing for this wedding ceremony in his own way. He has met you Ini on two occasions but you did not know him. I would arrange for a meeting between him and us tomorrow so that we could sort things out.” I was too engrossed in what mum was saying to notice that Dad was just sitting down there, his breathing was no longer regular. While mum was giving her epistle, she was pacing up and down like a pastor delivering a powerful sermon from a pulpit. She too did not know that Dad was no longer listening to her. I drew her attention to his state of health and we rushed at him. He could not raise his limbs again and his mouth had bent at an unpleasant angle. We rushed him to the hospital where we were told that be had suffered a severe stroke! He died few hours later.

Tuesday 2 August 2016

FEMININE FLAIRS: APPRECIATION

By Bukky Idowu

This word is lacking in most affairs, and the women folks are the worse culprit. The word sounds so familiar, but we just don’t know how to use it.

Most ladies come about the right guys but these guys slip off their fingers because they lack appreciative words or attitude.

When a guy is caring and loving I don’t think we should act weird with him. I know of
a friend who has never bought a single gift for her spouse. Right from their courtship days, it has always been the husband buying her gifts and presents. She would not remember his birthday or initiate celebration during his promotions or achievements. As time went on, the guy gradually withdrew his care. That was when she realised her folly.

Oh common, what does a man want in us that we can not offer. Even if a man is not caring enough you can initiate it. Teach him how to give by giving him.  We need to work on our attitude. Yeah! Do you hear me, “attitude” and that is 100% of us without leaving a thing behind

If your man loves you sincerely and takes proper care of you, you are lucky. Many ladies out there are not that lucky. Reciprocate by showering him with love and affection. Appreciate him with gifts and presents. Celebrate him, and you will realise that love will never depart from your home.                                             


READER’S REACTIONS AND CONTRIBUTIONS ARE WELCOME (Femlude2016 @gmail. com)

Adventures of Mr Fari : MOSHES’S SECOND COMING

By Femi Abulude

I appreciate you all! I did not know that my fans could catch up with me like that. Just one
appearance online and all eyes are focused on Faari. That sister in the U.K,  Ajet in the U.S.A, Gbabee in Ogijo etc. I love you all. Big Uncle Lekan, I will take to your elderly advice of caution. God bless you all.

Talking about God, my boss has invited me to his church programme. He has also advised me to get married as soon as possible. I am giving this advice a serious consideration. What surprised is that temptations now come from all angles!

Can you imagine who called me on phone last week? It was Moshekola, Moshe for short. She was my former campus girl whom I used to visit at Queen Amina Hall few years ago. She was beautiful and always willing according to her name. I lost touch with her after her final examinations. She was posted to one of the villages in the Northern part of the country for her Mandatory National Service. That was the last time I heard of her.

A call was passed to me by the Secretary. She said the caller was Moshe. I told her to connect me with her. The voice was Moshe’s quite all right. She asked me to describe the location of my office which I did in a jiffy. We exchanged pleasantries and hung up.

Guess whom I saw the following day. It was Moshe live and direct. She had put on more weight and she looked more beautiful. She explained how she met her husband at Kaduna.

The guy worked with an insurance company and doubled as a pastor. Immediately I had the word Pastor. I put any amorous thought out of my mind. I presumed that as a pastor’s wife, Moshe too should be a born again Christian as my boss had been preaching to me recently. How wrong I was?

Moshe kept coming to my office. The persistent visits were getting on my nerves. I noticed that whenever we mentioned anything about her husband, she would parry it aside and jumped on another topic

 This last Friday, Moshe came visiting again during the office hours. As she was settling down, my Secretary reminded me of the editorial meeting scheduled for that afternoon. Moshe had to go.

I apologized to her and she left. We were just settling down for the meeting when my phone rang. I picked it, it was Moshe.

“Faari, what has become of you? The Faari I met now is quit different from the one I left when I went for the National Service. If you have not been told, you’ve lost your bite. I’ve visited you four times; you’ve not made a single move! Don’t you find me delectable again? Have you also become like Pastor Luke?” She went on and on.

Moshe further explained that her husband, Luke was always looking at her without performing his duties.

What type of temptation is this? How do I handle this Moshe’s second coming? Please help me now!



LEAN ON ME: Aunty Meg

Dear Aunty Meg,
I commiserate with Edile on the sudden demise of her husband. I pray that God will
help her solve her problem that seems insurmountable

My plight is similar to her own. My husband died from wounds sustained in a gas explosion that happened in their factory late last year. My problem has been his immediate younger brother, who though married, insisted on taking me as his second wife. I have vehemently rejected this.

He has been very desperate these days, few months ago, he entered my bedroom and attempted to rape me. My saving grace was some Christian brethren who came for house fellowship in our compound. They heard my cry and came to my rescue. He told them not to meddle in his marital affairs. I countered him and he left shamefully.

I know the issue will not end there. What can I do?
_ Janet


At this rate, I think it is high time the government came to the rescue of widows or better still the females in government should champion this cause