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