JUST ONE SHOT!

By Femi Abulude

There was not much for me to do in the office on that day, being the last working day of the week and of the month I hit the road. Surprisingly too, the road was free of the usual traffic jam. It was therefore an easy ride home listening to my favourite music.

I was about 500 metres to the bus stop that branched to my house when I sighted this pretty lady at the bus stop. Before I could get to her, she had started flagging me down. I slowed down my vehicle and rolled down the side glass. I packed beside her. She begged for a lift and I signaled for her to enter. She did and that was the genesis of my predicament.

After the initial pleasantries, where she said she was going was about two bus - stops after my own. I offered to drop her there. Her next statement startled me. “Don’t tell me you are going home straight. What would a young man like you be doing at home at this time of the day? Helping madam with household chores? “She teased”.

I stole a glance at her beside me. This girl really has guts I thought.

“Come of it, men like you should have a social club to retire to at the end of a day work” she continued. “If you don’t mind a friend of mine has a small drinking joint down the road. We can branch there and get to know each other better. “This lady was un-usually too forward” I mused. Curiosity took the better of me. I followed her like a walking zombie. Her name was Nkiru.

When we got to her friends place, it came out to be a Beer Parlour. But unfortunately, the place was not too far away from the shop of one of the elders of our church. After settling down, I told Nkiru this. She called her friend whom I later knew was called Mama Asuquo and discussed briefly with her. She came back and said Mama Asuquo would follow me to the fuel filling station near the joint. This was where I packed my car. When I came back, they had re - arranged our sitting position.

Mama Asuquo served us drinks and pepper soup. Nkiru topped her own with Nkwobi. This lady could drink. Within a spate of one hour, she had drunk three bottles of big stouts. She disclosed that she was a single mother of two. She worked as a secretary in a factory but presently she was jobless.

She confessed she was befriending her expatriate boss, who was taking proper care of her. When the man went back to his country, a black man took over from him. This man who was privy to the relationship between her and the Indian lover man wanted them to start a relationship as well. This she refused vehemently. Since that time, she knew no peace in that place. He eventually sacked her on flimsy excuse of inflating the cost of an electric kettle she was asked to buy. Her immediate problem was how to solve her house rent which would due in few days time. “Ah! This lady can talk!” I thought. My warning signal kept on beeping but I refused to listen.

When it was getting dark she suggested we change our location. The next port of call was a hotel. By this time I was a getting tipsy. One thing led to the other and I slept with her. Nkiru was a maniac on bed. I got clumsy as everything was moving too fast for me. When we were going, I gave her N10, 000 ( Ten thousand Naira only). She accepted it, thanked me and told me not forget the house rent she said was N150, 000. I was silently praying that the cup should quickly pass over me. I would run away from Nkiru, she would never see me again. We parted.

How wrong I was! Nkiru refused to go. She started calling me on phone. When she realized my intension was to dump her, she started sending text messages even at odd times. My wife started getting suspicious, but I parried all her insinuations.

Unknown to me, Nkiru had traced me to my church member’s shop. She had spilled the bean to this elderly man. The man called me on phone and said there was a serious issue he would like to discuss with me. I almost fainted. I plucked up courage and went to the man. He went straight to the point. He expressed his disappointment at my indiscression. He explained what Nkiru told him. He said her types are home breakers whom responsible men should always steer clear of. He advised that I should settle her because she had become very desperate.

That was how I had to eat the humble pie and call Nkiru. I begged her. She hit her roof and started calling me names; threatening hell and brimstone. After much begging and persuasion she agreed to take N50, 000.

Few months later, I started feeling some burning sensation all over my body. My wife also complained about the same symptoms. When we could no longer mange it again, we decided to consult our family doctors.

He conducted series of tests and told us to come back for the results. The doctor later confirmed that we were suffering from syphilis.

Spontaneously, my wife and I chorused, “WHAT!” the doctor repeated “Syphilis!” my wife asked “How?” I could not ask the same question. It was definitely through my unprotected coital relationship with Nkiru.

A shot at Nkiru had landed me and my wife in fatal trouble. Who knows if the children are safe too? My wife’s question; “HOW?” kept echoing in my brain. How? How? How?

 

BOOK REVIEW: BLUE COLLAR LAWMAN By: Harold Smith

Chapter 1

At the time Macmillan recorded his afore mentioned view, he was heavily engaged with Suez. This glaring example of dirty work abroad was a total failure. Undeterred, Macmillan re–read a life of Machiavelli, and turned his attention to Nigeria and its newly discovered oil fields. On 21 July 1956 he had written, “The Government’s position is very bad at present. Nothing has gone well. In the Middle East we are still teased by Nasser and Co.; this Colonial Empire is breaking up; and many people view with anxiety the attempt to produce Parliamentary Democracy is such places as Nigeria…”

“Many people” doubtless include the oil companies and Tory and Labour politicians. In fact, the first stage of the Independence Elections was rigged in 1956, when I, with my colleague Charles Bunker, was ordered by the Governor General to take a major evident on the ground that planning had been in hand for some time.

Although of great international importance, not one civil servant blew the whistle on the awful lies told by Government Ministers during the Suez affair. This was a largely public event, and one of its major aims (which were denied) was regime change. Blair, another lying Prime Minister, was more successful in Iraq.

It is clearly better to conduct dirty work abroad in secret. Macmillan kept a close eye on the Independence arrangements for Nigeria, where a showpiece of democracy was to be cynically destroyed and a set of corrupt stooges invested with power. I blew the whistle on that treason in 1956 and Macmillan knew, through his son – in – law Julian Amery, the measures taken to shut me up. Suez was illegal; Nigeria was illegal if Suez was illegal. The British publics still do not know of the treason which killed three million in Nigeria, but Tony Blair knew!

It seems that it was British parliament democracy that was being set aside by Harold Macmillan. Our stooges, who did not want the British to leave – the most backward and feudal we could find had power thrust on them. Nobody believed the mass of the people who followed their nationalist leaders could possibly have voted for those awful creatures and, in fact, very few did, but who cared when the British were counting the votes! Amazingly at the victory celebrations on Independence Day, not a single nationalist leader was on the platform when the union flag was lowered.

Had Macmillan feared the Nigeria people were not ready for Independence, he could easily have postponed it. After regime change in Persia and the Suez adventure, one might have expected Macmillan to be cautious. It was not to be. What is for sure is that it was not the welfare of the Nigeria people that Macmillan had in mind in screwing up democracy in Nigeria. There was also the small problem of consequences. What would happen to our stooges at elections when the British were not there to count the votes.

Clearly, the opposition had to be smashed, and in no time the leaders of the Action Group were framed on trumped–up treason charges. Would not this increase the risk of a coup? Our stooges were gunned down in 1966, and the Ibo were for a moment victorious. A British counter – coup restored our boys in power and sadly involved a pogrom. The Ibo declared for Independence, and they were put down by the force of British arms.

Did Macmillan feel any regret? Why should he, when the British kept control of the oil fields? Only three million died, and they were black, and a hagiographer of Balewa recorded that only one person of note was killed. So that was all right!

Was Macmillan an honourable gentleman? Or a cruel war criminal? Was he a democrat? He was certainly not going to own up. Indeed he took extreme measures to prevent the present writer telling the British people of his exploits.

The British had sold the Nigerians into slavery. Then they stole their country. Then they stole their mineral resources. Then they killed them. What next, one wonders? It would seem that Macmillan did not believe in teaching by example.

TO BE CONTINUED…

LEAN ON ME AUNTY MEG: SHOULD I TAKE HER BACK?

There was this pretty girl I fell in love with in our neighbourhood, she was the only child of her parents. The mother knew of our relationship but always begged me not to have any sexual relationship with her daughter. The advice even got to an embarrassing stage at a point. She made me swear an oath that I would not touch her until our wedding night.

After completing my studies, I went for the mandatory one year National Youth
Service. Fortunately for us, my girl also gained admission into a Polytechnic. I learnt she suddenly got pregnant. On hearing this, my world seemed collapsed. A friend even sent a picture of her in protruding belly to my phone.

She gave birth to a baby girl, but the guy whom she claimed impregnated her refused paternity. Her mother had been sending emissaries to me of late that I should forgive her and take my lover back.

Aunty Meg, what should I do?

---- Shadrack.

Shedrack,

My answer to your question is like this. An elder once told me that giving your enemy another chance in a precarious situation was like providing him/her another bullet to kill you after missing at the first attempt. Therefore instead of wasting your time on this abandoned vessel, why don’t you look for your own wife elsewhere? If the guy who impregnated her had accepted paternity, would she still have come back to you? Wake up Shadrack.

__ Aunty Meg

ADVENTURES OF MR FAARI : ALHAJA KUNBI; NARROW ESCAPE!

You have been inundated with several of my escapades and adventures when I was in the world. A lady fan had sent her experience in her youth days. Carry go!.

My name is Alhaja Kunbi. I am one of the numerous wives of Alhaji Kobiowu, a retired customs officer. As at then, we were all staying in the same town with him outside Lagos. He had a guest house in a remote part of the present day Shangisha. Alhaji Kobiowu is now late, may his soul rest in peace. There was this particular friend of mine that Alhaji had known in his days as customs officer. Her name was Dupe; he claimed the lady was a convicted smuggler. He warned me seriously to distance myself from her. This was a tall order, how could I distance myself from Dupe? We grew up together and went through the adolescent and juvenile escapades.

There was a snag in my marital union with the Alhaji, he was older than me with about thirty years. This age difference did not help matters. He was too reserved and conservative for my liking. He was the old school type. I had two children for him then and we did not lack anything.

While living with the Alhaji was drab and colourless, there was no single dull moment with Dupe Peperempe! That was why I craved her company.

Along the line, Dupe was having her birthday in Lagos. We planned this show stopper of a party together. I did not inform my husband but told him I had some very important business to transact in Lagos. I collected the key of our guest house from him. Immediately I hit Lagos, I went straight to Dupe’s house at Gbagada area of the city. She was already expecting me; I changed into the special attire chosen for the party. We rocked the party till the wee hours of the morning.

I arrived back at our guest louse at about 8:00 am the following morning. What I saw on the door almost made me fainted. Alhaji had already been there, what I was not sure of was whether he slept there or not. This was what he wrote and pinned on the door.                                   Onirin aare lese (wayward woman)

                                    I hope you have a cogent reason for this act. Signed.

In my panicked state I rushed back to Dupe. This was before the advent of mobile phone. After listening to my explanation, she advised me on what to do.

I rushed to our family doctor and explained my plight to him. I did not hide anything from him. He scolded me though, after some amount had exchanged hands, he promised to play ball. He was the one who called Alhaji on land phone and told him that I was rushed to his clinic the previous evening suffering from acute stomach ache. Alhaji swallowed this lie line, hook and sinker.

BEHAVE RESPONSIBLY, AIDS IS REAL!

LEARN ON ME AUNTY MEG

Dear Aunty Meg,

I want you to assist me in solving this my problem. I took permission from my husband to

travel to our village few months ago. I went for an Uncle’s funeral. He warned me not to extend my stay beyond the date he gave me. One thing led to another and I overstayed. When I got back to Abuja, he ordered me to go back to my parents. I refused initially but when he threatened to kill me, I packed my load and left with my two children, a girl and a boy.He said I should leave the elderly boy behind but I refused.

Immediately we got to the village, the boy started falling sick. He later developed some complications and died. I did not inform him about the sickness. My problem now is how I would inform my husband about his son’s death. I still love him. ---------- Paulina.

Paulina, your problem started when you overstayed beyond your husband’s instruction. Probably, if you had informed him on phone about the extensions, his annoyance would have been reduced. Another fault of yours was your decision not to tell him about his son’s ailment. In all you have not allowed free flow of communication in the whole saga. My advice is to implore some elders from both families to placate him. Don’t leave out people from the church too. God will help you.

ADVENTURES OF MR. FAARI FUNMI ASUN!

There was this young girl I admired a lot, she was very pretty, tall, dark and intelligent. Her smile could illuminate a room. No matter the level of provocation meted to her she would never be angry. I learnt that she had just finished her OND and was assisting her uncle to serve in his beer joint.

I have been watching her at some distance before I eventually hit the nail on the head. She neither agreed nor disagreed. Any time I called her, she would give me audience. I prodded her further and collected her phone number which she gladly obliged. The following day, I was sent to Kaduna to cover a story. Unfortunately, I lost my phone during the trip. When I got back to Lagos, our relationship started on a full throttle.

Several months later, a girl sauntered into the beer joint smiling at me and Funmi. I looked at Funmi and saw the glaring similarities between the two girls. This was the girl I first met! I was confused.

I later on gathered that the one I first met was the young sister called Kunmi. In my confusion and hasty state of mind, I had mistaken her for Funmi. I learnt that Kunmi had to travel back to her school to collect her transcript. That explained her sudden absence from the scene.

It was not really a matter of confusion on their part as I later on gathered. It was unanimous decision between the two sisters that Kunmi whom I first met should step aside for her elder sister because there was family pressure on her to get married. Can it work? Faari to get married? We shall all see.

Behave responsibly; Aids is Real!

BOOK REVIEW: BLUE COLLAR LAWMAN BY HAROLD SMITH

SNEAK PREVIEW

Three British colonial officers protested at the British rigging of Nigeria’s Independence Elections. (Two gave in to pressure. It was decided that I was the ringleader and should be punished accordingly. In fact, Charles Bunker was my senior officer.)

The remarkable way in which I was treated – vilification; vindication; commendation; threats; hostility; offer of a knighthood (with permanent exile); denigration – puzzled me until I read every book on Macmillan, his diaries, biographies, etc. Only then did I realize I had been treated in accord with Macmillan’s personal philosophy. However, as Macmillan had by this time killed three million innocent Africans with Labour’s help, I could hardly feel badly done to. I was very lucky to be alive. Had I come near success as a whistle-blower, I would have been killed. This was no problem for M15/6 who have many killers to hand. Actually I was a failed whistle-blower because poisoned by Porton Down, which was the view of a Minister of Defence who had reason to know!

For twelve years I suffered the devastating effects of a poison, which destroyed my gut and simulated tropical sprue, which is rarely found in Africa. All this time Porton Down had the antidote. This was naturally denied me. The chance survival was remarkable and only after many years of medical research did I feel confident enough to re-commence my whistle-blowing. By this time the British had created a wasteland in Nigeria. This proud showcase of democracy had become a total basket case, thanks to Macmillan’s Machiavellian Machinations.

Macmillan evolved his Casablanca philosophy while resident Minister in North Africa. The rest of Africa, particularly Nigeria, suffered from Macmillan’s criminal tactics in the 50’s and 60’s, and the documentary evidence is beginning to emerge. Macmillan adored what he learned in North Africa. He was exhilarated!

‘The purely Balkan politics we have here are more to my liking,’ he wrote. ‘if you don’t like a chap, you don’t deprive him of the whip or turn him out of the party. You just say he is a monarchist or has plotted to kill Murphy’ – Macmillan’s American counterpart – ‘and you shoot him off to prison or a Saharan concentration camp. Then a week or two later, you let him out and make him Minister for something or other. It’s really very exhilarating.’

In 1960 Macmillan rigged Nigeria’s Independence Elections and put Northern stooges in power. He then jailed Opposition leaders. Chief Anthony Enaharo got fifteen years on trumped – up treason charges! This was sheer effrontery of Macmillan when he was the one who was destroying democracy. Chief Enaharo is still alive, outraged and seeking justice. Following a coup and a British counter-coup, he then released Chief Enaharo and his colleague, Chief Awolowo, made them Ministers in the military administration and with massive supplies of British arms encouraged them to wage war on their fellow nationalists of the Ibo nation in the East. This was passed off as a civil war in which three million innocents died. It was a classic example of British perfidy and followed exactly the tactic proclaimed by Macmillan a few years earlier in North Africa. No doubt it was very, very exhilarating! And the African victims of his treason to British parliamentary democracy? They were not human beings. They were, in his words, ‘only barbarians’.

My own treatment as a whistle-blower was not much better. His son-in-law, Julian Amery, through the Governor General, Sir James Robertson, threatened my life should I succeed in alerting the British public. At the very least, they promised, if I did not accept permanent exile to the Far East, I would never work again. They kept that promise with the help of successive British Governments. Mr. Blair has done nothing to help me, or to deceive the British people about Iraq and, following in Macmillan’s footsteps, waged an illegal war.

Mac, SuperMac, devious? Devious is not the word. Insane is a better one. Drunk with power? Hitler was insane? Is Blair, who lied to Parliament, not insane?

A Dagger in the Heart

“Without oil, and without the profits from oil, neither the UK nor Western Europe can survive.”

TO BE CONTINUED.