Survivor Series – The Beginning

Hello Hello!!!! What’s gooooood?? Everything obviously, I hope.

I’m going to be doing down memory lane and telling you about the highs and lows of my life as a junior in secondary school. I’m concentrating on the boarding school or the hostel struggle which is clearly the best part of secondary school, depending on the one you went to. Before you go on, you should know I can’t possibly tell you everything that happened. So, I’m only telling the important parts.  Be prepared to chill because this is a long story.

JSS1 – The True Hellywood Story

3rd term of Grade 6 was a happy period. I mean, I was feeling like one goat because I was going into secondary school. My parents had decided the school I was going to since grade 4. Everything that happened between grade 6 and the day I landed in Hellywood/ Junior School is not important so I’d just start on the day of resumption.

It was a beeeeeaaauuutifuul Sunday morning. The whole family went to church, as usual. In church, I just kept checking the time, hoping for it to pass fast because school was all that was on my mind. I had heard ‘bigger people’ talking about school and I couldn’t wait to see if all they were taking about was real. The suffering, struggle and pain. Finally, after much wait, we hit the road. The whole family went. I kept wondering why everyone had to come. I was just at the back of the car, trying to memorize the way to my new school. Eventually, I slept off.

The next time I woke up, we were in school. I was too happy yo. I hurriedly got my bags out of the car and rushed to the point where the ‘housemasters’ were searching (Housemasters are those guys in charge of students). When they were done, my mum called me, sat me down and began giving me some advice that I was sure I won’t need. Or so I thought. I saw people crying as their parents left and I was shocked, I just waved goodbye, smiling like one goat that had seen somewhere it could be stealing yam on a reg. I used the rest of the afternoon to unpack and arrange my things, make some friends and just chill.

That night, we went to the dining hall and they served us a nice meal (I can’t recall what exactly). At this point, I was amazed because everything I had heard the ‘bigger people’ talking about didn’t seem true. Well that’s how it looked. Life went on smoothly through-out my first week staying there (I lost most of my things though). Seniors were really nice, some offered to help me keep my provisions ”””’safe”””. Little did I know it was all pretense. Remember how I said in the beginning of this post that I’m going to be telling you about the highs and lows of being a junior, well there weren’t really many highs. Mostly lows.

Second week there, everything turned upside-down. I remember that Sunday well. There were six demons (whose names I really want to reveal but can’t so not to put my life in danger) that were members of my room. Some of you might know these people as seniors. Most other rooms had four and below. Now this school was a real all-boarding high school. We were twenty in a room. Correct struggs. That Sunday night, the room/dormitory head called all the ‘juvees'(slang for juniors) to his corner and told us to sit. My guy now said we should all bring some of our stuff for him and ‘his guys’ as tax. Well, I was and still am a very sharp ‘James Bond’ kind of guy and so I poured a little bit of milk into this tiny cup I had and happily skipped to baba’s corner. One by one, we ‘juvees’ presented our tax. It got to my turn and I was asked to present my tax (the way the tax system worked was this. There was no official tax price. The seniors just inspected and judged whether your tax was worthy to be accepted). With a big smile, I presented my tax. This senior and ‘his guys’ were on a bed, sitting back, relaxed. But when it was my turn, I noticed that they leaned forward when they saw what I offered. I was thinking they liked my tax and wanted to appreciate me. And then……………………………..

The next sound I heard was a blaring siren. I sprang up and asked one of my new friends what was making noise and he told me it was time to wake up and go for the regular morning devotion. I was confused because the last thing I remembered was presenting my tax. I asked another friend what happened to me and he told me the demons beat me senseless. I didn’t believe this guy until I saw my body was bruised in many places. I wanted to go and report but we had been told that reporting would only get us in more trouble, and so I decided to let it go. I swore to revenge sometime later if the opportunity presented itself. Juniors tried hard to avoid the demons, myself included. It worked for a while. And then it dawned on them that we ‘juvees’ were feeling smart. They then told us ‘juvees’ they were going to handle us on Friday night. It was still Wednesday and I was wondering why they were postponing the punishment.

Friday seemed like every normal night. We got back from the ‘evening prep’, had night devotion and went to our rooms. On Friday nights, all students were supposed to clean up their rooms and surroundings in preparation for the hostel inspection that takes place on Saturday morning. After all the stress and pain of cleaning, I was so tired and so I got on my bed and slept off. My sleep was just starting to feel wonderful when a heavy slap landed on my face. I woke up, still drowsy, amazed and in tears, wondering what I had done to deserve that. I wanted to complain but self-control stopped me. I just did ‘odeshi’. When another combo of three solid slaps hit me, my drowsiness cleared and my ‘odeshi’ was destroyed by the stream of tears that flowed down my cheeks. I saw all the other ‘juvees’ in one corner of the room kneeling down. I didn’t need to be told I was supposed to join them. One of the seniors in the room then placed a large heap of dirty clothes in front of us. He then told us to share the clothes equally and wash them immediately. Anger and hate filled my heart when I heard this. I was tempted to speak out and form ‘human rights activist for juniors’ for the guy but when he gifted my fellow junior a heavy knock on the head for complaining, the temptation fled. I just sighed and went to my locker. I picked my bucket and slowly walked to the laundry bay (It’s this place we do our laundry. Some people bathe there though it’s wrong).

I didn’t do anything for the first ten minutes I was there. I just sat on the floor and cried. There was this gutter nearby which had ‘spirogyra’ all over it. I thought of pouring all the clothes there but it didn’t feel right because I’d still have to wash the clothes. Sad and in pain, I washed the clothes, though it was mostly me dipping them in water one by one and spreading them. After I was done with the evil task, I got on my bed and cried all night.

The next morning, I swore to remain strong and see pain as something for the weak. I then prayed that an opportunity to do evil to the seniors appears. God was happy that day.

In the afternoon that day, my worst senior asked me to make him a bowl of garri with milk and sugar. I asked him for the key to his box and then a swift slap to my left cheek made me know he wanted my own garri, milk and sugar L. I wasn’t in the mood to argue and so I went to the box room where I kept my stuff. (No tears, No pain. As a boss). With little interest, I put everything his wish consisted of. There was no water that afternoon, so I had to walk all the way to the reservoir. I was about to cry but I remembered the decision I had taken. On my way back after getting the water, I just stared at the soaks (the mixture) as I walked. I was about entering the room the senior was in to give him his soaks when one of my friends that also hated the senior called me. I told him about this thought I had of adding some extra ingredients to the soaks. He felt it was a good idea so we both walked to a corner. There, I packed up some saliva and spat in the food. My friend hit me and told me I was a dead guy. I didn’t understand until I watched my guy gather up mucus and spit into the ‘soaks’. I didn’t dull and gladly did the same. He then picked a dead, disgusting piece of wood from a nearby dirty gutter and stirred the food with it. After this, we both went to the room and gave the senior. We watched as he ate the food. That moment was one of the only highs in this part of junior school. I felt total happiness and fulfillment. The moment got better when I realized that the senior took in every last bit of the food. Evil, you may call this, but you’re wrong.

The rest of Jss1 was much of the same but still fun. I eventually adapted to the struggle and the pain. All the suffering made me stronger.

#SurvivorSeries is going to be a 3 or 4 part special, depending on what I conclude. Anyhoo, those are the highlights of the first part of life in junior school. I hope you liked it. Expect the other parts soon and Follow @SeyiSoneye. Bye!

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Meet The Family

HEEELLLLLLLOOOOOO!!!!!! That was a long Hello because I’m sooooo Excited. My blog views are increasing rapidly and I didn’t expect that. I’m really proud of myself. God bless you all for the views and RT’s. Oh yeah, I’m sorry I changed the name of the blog, I wasn’t liking the previous one. This post is about to begin and it’s quite long so I would advise you to stop whatever you’re doing, get something to keep your mouth busy, lean back and enjoy.

Today, I’m going to be introducing my family. Most of my experiences would not have happened without them sooooo you have to know them.

My family is a beautiful one with beautiful people. We are only four – My dad, My mum, my sister and yours truly, me. We might not be as big as many other families but we have a lot of fun. You’ll be shocked how much there is about each of us. I should start with my dad because he’s the originator of all this.

My dad is superman. Cool, calm and such a nice guy. Mr. Man-In-Charge (Forget what he did two posts back) And he can do anything. Drive, eat, sleep, talk, walk, everything you can possibly imagine. As I said in my first post , he’s the only one in the house that eats more than one piece of chicken or meat, well more than two now that everyone is older. With these traits, there’s no surprise he got the attention of one nice babe a.k.a My mum. I don’t like him at times because when the whole family is out, he gets the attention of all the ladies (all ages). Apparently, they feel he’s way more handsome than I am. Painful stuff. 😦

Anyway, as I said earlier, my dad is a cool guy. He doesn’t make noise, he’s not grumpy, he’s just cool. That’s until you mess with him. This man is one of the few people who are really hard piss off. But from experience, I’ve discovered only two ways to get him angry.

The first way is lying. This man don’t mess with that. If you do something wrong, he’ll just call you, sit you down and calmly ask you if and why you did whatever. If you say yes and you’re being truthful, he’ll scold you, on few occasions, do something minor to punish you and then tell you not to repeat such things. Then if you feel like ‘James bond’ or Jackie chan’ and try to play smart, your own has finished. The man will just play along, wait for you to finish your lie and then point out the fact that you’re lying. At this point, if you surrender and confess, you’ll get the same treatment as the person who confesses immediately. then if you now feel like a ‘further James Bond’,  whatever happens next would be something you won’t see coming. My point is, don’t lie to the man.

Number two is laziness. This one annoys me because for some reason, I’m always a culprit. The problem is if I’m told to do something and it can clearly be done at a later time, I just say okay and postpone whatever it is to that later time. My dad just doesn’t understand this concept. He wants whatever he tells you to do to be done immediately. Earlier in my life, he’ll just tell me to stop whatever im doing and get to work on what he asked me to do. But now, the man won’t rush me. He just comes to my room, picks something dear to me or turns off any device and walks out. The one he enjoys the most is turning off games just when I’m in the middle of saving. He comes in, tells me to pause what I’m playing and go to work. And me, feeling like a sharp guy, would tell him that the game can’t pause and that I have to save (some lie). So he just stands there, waits for me to start saving and then turns the switch off. If you have some gaming experience, you should know that if you turn off any game console when a game file is saving, that file gets corrupted (in simpler english, that file is gone, like it can’t work anymore). Its equivalent to putting glue in a girls’ hair (Yes it’s that painfu). That’s one thing that can bring me to tears unfortunately. All in all, my dad is awesome.

Next is, My mum. Her name is ‘mummy’. My mum is like every other african mum but with some special traits of her own. She’s tooo caring, enjoys over-feeding people, she can taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllkkk and the most depressing, she can send. I can describe my mum in different ways. there’s mumwhenshewantsyoutodosomething, mumwhenshe’shappywith you, and mumwhenyougetherangry.

mumwhenshewantsyoutodosomething is just too funny. She came alive when I got into high school. She would just walk slowly to where I am, sit beside me, start hugging me, and drop her trademark line, smiling, ‘Seyi, hmmm, I’ll miss you o. This one that you’re going to school soon. I won’t be seeing your fine face again’. Once she drops that line, I just look at her like -_____________________- and ask her what she wants. Then she goes, ‘*sigh* My ________ is _______, I need you to help me ________________’. At this point, I just shake my head and say okay. And then she walks away, happy with herself.

mumwhenshe’shappywith you is heaven. This is the time I ask her for most of the things I want. She also prepares unbelievable meals when she’s in this state. It’s all smiles when mum is in this mode.

Then there’s mumwhenyougetherangry. mumwhenyougetherangry is annoying. Scary at times. She doesn’t give a damn about what you have to say. She just goes on and on and on. And she can send. By this, I mean work. The woman can tell you to do 2134521342134 things. You do 2134512342133 and she would complain about that 1 you didn’t do. If you love your ears, just don’t say anything to her. mumwhenyougetherangry has the greatest retentive memory. She brings up one mistake you made ten years ago and dwells on it for days. Its easy at times to get mum into this mode. It’s either you don’t clean the house, you do the exact opposite of what she told you to do, you clean the house and leave a tiny spot undone or by far the worst, you mess her kitchen up. You don’t want mess with her kitchen yo. The less said about that, the better.

All those three modes make up mum. True she can be funny at times, but nobody’s perfect. My life would be upside-down without her. Too much love for her.

Third is me, but let’s skip me and move to my sister.  Her own name is Bukola. Most people call her ‘Bukky’. I call her ‘Ruby’. My sister is my sister. That’s just how it is. I’m secretly mad at her because like my dad, she gets most of the attention. People believe she’s pretty and all but I don’t seem to understand how. Unlike many boys, I don’t have a brother so my fighting moments are with my sister. No day is complete until we fight, that’s if were both home. These fights happen naturally on a daily basis. On days when it seems we won’t fight, one of us walks to the other and proposes a fight. Now these fights never make sense but that’s just how life is. We fight over things like who’s supposed to cook, who does the dishes, who gets to hug mum first when she gets back from work, who gets the crispier pieces of dodo (that’s plantain. We don’t joke with that thing)  and the common one, who gets the remote. We forced my dad to get wi-fi since we used to fight over one modem we had.

I’ve been saying what we fight over and over again and I’ve not told you how we fight. Most of our fights take place in the sitting room. Like we both go there when its time to fight. Ruby gets on the couch, lies on her back, puts her legs up while I stand, facing the legs with my hands stretched forward. Once were both in position, she begins to kick and my aim is to hold her legs and give her some sexy knocks on her head. It might sound easy but Ruby kicks good. She’s good in athletics so you should understand how powerful those legs should be. The winner is decided when one party gives up or when one of her kicks gets me on the floor. After this, we move into the mental phase of our fight which is also the final stage of our fight.

In this phase, both parties retire to nurse whatever bruises were obtained during the first phase. The phase can start in two different ways. We use the first way if there is no light (electricity) and the other if there is light. The first way is actually boring and the whole fight mostly ends here. Here, both off us pick our phones and just use them till the phone batteries run out. Your battery runs out first, you lose.  We kick off the second way when one person gets hold of the remote. That person then switches to any music channel. If the other person likes the song/music video playing and is singing along, the ‘remote holder’ flips the channel to another music channel. and if the other person doesn’t like the song/music video playing, both parties watch that song/music video to the end. This round is basically motivated by pain. Pain of the other person enjoying a song/music video. It ends when there is no useful song/music video playing because the ‘remote holder’ flips to any channel of her choice. I said her choice because I have never won this round. Because of this, I have adept knowledge on many of those reality, fashion and lifestyle shows (Yeah ladies, I get what you talk about most of the time) The overall winner is determined when one party breaks the silence with verbal attack. I win this of the time though.

We fight most of the time. During the little time we don’t, she tells me stuff. Whenever were together and there’s nothing fun to do, she begins to tell me some of her funny experiences in school. Like how people have different ways of expressing pain. I don’t tell her much and that pisses her off. Then we have this scary thing of laughing at the same time when people who don’t know us much say were so calm. I make it look like I don’t care about her when I actually do. She’s not supposed to know because she would definitely take advantage. Funny girl.

I won’t say anything about me and leave that for later. That’s most of what there is about my family, I hope you loved it. And this time I actually care if you enjoyed it. Till next time brethren. Follow @SeyiSoneye . Shovel out!

Serious Joke

Greetings whoever or whatever you are. How’s your life?? Naah, don’t answer, its your business. Who gets the oxymoron title? So I just remembered I haven’t introduced myself. My sincere apologies. My name is Seyi. But nobody calls me that :(. Most people call me by my last name. My dad calls me ‘Bobo’. My mum has different names for me depending on her mood. My sister calls me ‘guy’. My friends call me ‘Shovel’ (I have no idea where it came from). Few nice people call me ‘Seyi’. You can call me ‘qwertyuiop’. I’m a boy or male for those who don’t know what a boy is. I can’t say I’m young because my age is a double-digit number and i can’t say I’m old because my ‘bear bear’ has not come out yet (that’s Nigerian for ‘beard’)

Moving on. Just so you know, the title has nothing to do with anything that follows :).
So yesterday, I was scrolling through twitter. Just scrolling, reading, judging. And then one tweet caught my full attention. Someone was like ‘NowPlaying – Turnt up’. At this point, I was like ‘DAFUQ IS THIS ONE TALKING ABOUT????’. I wasn’t sure whether to question whoever recorded its’ thoughts or the kind of education my guy was getting. Then I googled the song and it was by Lil Twist and Busta Rhymes. whaaaaaaaaaat? I expected it would be one young boy struggling to get into music.

Please, what is up with everyone trying to get into music these days? I’m not saying it’s wrong but if you want to, do so in style. My Nigerian bobo’s just kill it. The struggle to get into the industry is too tough. Okay, even if you want to enter, at least use a sensible stage name. That stage name thing is just too painful. Like Is it compulsory to put ‘lil’ ‘yung’ ‘kid’ in yo’ name? That’s how I heard that ‘KidFlakes’ is one guys stage name. KidFlakes brethren, Kidflakes. What is that?? Like sir, your record label na cereal? (Do laugh) Then there’s the ‘zy’ suffix. For example, ‘wizzy’ ‘breezy’ ‘bobzy’ ‘davidzy’ ‘ayozy’ ‘orezy’ ‘ewazy’ ‘ronaldozy’ ‘messizy’ ‘obamazy’ ‘osama bin ladenzy’. I should probably change my name to ‘Seyizy’. And the ‘sick’ one too. Like ‘flowsick’ ‘lilsick’ ‘barsick’ ‘verysick’ ‘soosick’. Kindly visit a hospital if you’ve got sick in your name.

Then the most pressing problem is how most ‘artistes’ are always talking about meaningless things in their work. I shouldn’t complain about that one though because its clear the ‘fans’ don’t really care about the lyrics. They just want ‘danceable’ music. (I think I should record something too). The way things are going, some people will remain ‘upcoming’ till they retire.
That turnt up thing still bothers me. I listened to the song though and its okay.

So far, it seems I’ve been talking on music but I actually want to talk about ‘English’. When I was younger, english was a serious something. Words meant what they meant. But now 😦 the whole thing has scattered. From what I know, ‘turn up’ was used when the volume of a radio or tv was being increased. Now in real life, turn up has nothing to do with volume. Another one is ‘thirsty’. On a normal day in the past, thirsty had to do with craving water. Now it’s not the same. Saying ‘thirsty now has nothing to do with water most of the time. Banana is no longer a fruit. It’s hard to say you’re eating a banana without people taking it sexual. 😥
Then there’s the abbreviating thing. Sometimes I’m texting someone and they reply with something like ‘I hvnt rly tht it thru bt I tnk it shd b vry scsfl n I rly tnk ur strs r 4ne’ -_____________________-  :s What is that?? Is there a problem with your brain?? It’s too painful yo. It won’t hurt to type in full or at least, make your abbreviations more understandable.

Many times, I’ve tried to pray for this world but it seems God is still waiting for the perfect time to grant my request. Oh well, I’d keep waiting.
This generation is too special . We need serious help. There’s still hope. Let’s just wait, hope and pray.

Again, I don’t care if you didn’t enjoy this. I am not a care bear. -_-
Follow @SeyiSoneye

Youthful Madness

Wassup! Aova! Eyyz! Haha, I just found out people use those as greetings. I question creativity these days. That’s not what’s for today though.
So as I said in my previous post, I have decided to take a step in writing and I hope to build on that decision.
I’ve not really come up with anything to write about, so I’ve decided I’ll just tell you about a really stupid thing I did as a child.

Now before I start, I want you to read this with much seriousness. You should know that it isn’t meant to be a funny story in any way. I also want to explain what pain is. Pain is that feeling you have when you are hurt or when you’re sick. It could also be mental or emotional. For many, pain is a bad thing, but for me, I see it as a good motivator. Well that’s how I saw it a long time ago.

My story starts many years ago. I was young. Well younger than now. My mum told me she was travelling and I told this woman I wanted to go with her but she didn’t agree. I kept on disturbing the woman but she never changed her mind. PAIN set in. Now remember what I said about pain and how I see it as a motivator, well this was an instance when it motivated me.

I was really angry with my mum during the time between then and the day of her flight . Eventually, a funny idea popped into my head. You might think its evil. Anyway, the morning of her flight, I went to her room, searched for her passport, took it and hid it. (I’m a good person). Later in the day when she was about to leave, she began searching frantically for her passport. I was just there, watching Ed, Edd and Eddy, doing that evil laugh in my mind.
God was for me that day, or so I thought.

My mum missed her flight and she had to reschedule. My plan had worked so I decided to return her passport.

After returning it, I continued my ed, edd and eddy. I was seriously laughing as I watched the three boys getting beat up by the Kanka sisters. The coco that grew on eddy’s head was seriously big. LoL. Moving on.

The cartoon had ended so I just sat there, waiting for the next cartoon. Then suddenly, my father came into the room and shot me this piercing scary look (Normally, I’d say dad so know that the word ‘father’ is used in cases of extreme seriousness). I had been in many cases of ‘wahala’ so I was quick to realise something was wrong, I mean, the man rarely came out of his way to check up on me and that single look said enough for me to realise something was wrong. I didn’t want to know what because where I’m from, parents can use their eyes to communicate ideas (mums in particular). I had watched many movies at that time so one cliche movie quote came with such amazing speed to mind, ‘it was the devil’. But the look he had didn’t give me space mentally to even gather courage to utter any words. Before he could say or do anything, I didn’t need to be told that my buttocks wouldn’t remain the same if I stayed longer in the building (know that there’s this thing in science known as adrenalin. As far as I know, it basically makes you do things you probably can’t do normally. In this case, it graced me with supernatural speed) and so I ran to my room, wore two more shirts on the one I had on, threw in my toothbrush and a tub of close-up toothpaste into my backpack, took the money I had been saving up for a new ball and ran out of the house.

I kept on running. I didn’t stop until I was weak and tired. I decided to sit by the road and think of what to do or more importantly ‘where to go’. I knew going back home was going to mean hell and great pain. It was obvious that mr man knew what I had done. I used the money I stole to buy this coaster biscuit I loved so much and capri-sonne. After more sitting and thinking, I was getting hungry and it was getting really late. I gave up and decided to pull the prodigal son stunt. So I slowly walked back home. On getting there, I couldn’t gather up courage to go in so I just waited outside. After about thirty minutes of waiting, I grew a large pair of balls, went in and saw my dad. Immediately, I fell to the floor, held his legs, cried with great strength and told him I was sorry. I confessed my wrongdoings and begged and begged until he told me to stand up. As I stood up, I felt much relief. I was thinking I had gotten away with the mischievous evil I had done.

Now this man organised a nice dinner for me. He gave me Jollof rice and two pieces of chicken, I repeat TWO pieces of chicken. If you grew up in Nigeria, you should know that only ‘daddy’ gets more than one piece of chicken. I ate with a little bit of suspicion but mostly with happiness. After eating, he gave me a full carton of juice. I drank and I was full. I felt so happy and loved that night. But something bothered me. As I was eating, I noticed my dad just sat there, watching, observing, smiling. I eventually decided to lose the thought.

Five minutes or there about after I was done with this unusual meal, my dad shouted my name. I happily went to his room, thinking he wanted to tell me I was going to travel to meet my mom soon or probably something better. When I got to his room, he was standing which was unusual (I’d known him to be laying down whenever he called me to his room). As I stepped closer to him, the man grabbed me faster than lightning strikes and……… At this point, I would like to be different and let you use your imagination to picture what happened for the next hour. I’m only going to tell you that since that day, I have been known to be very well behaved and slow to react when in pain as that night replays in my mind when I am angry. Till today, I do not know how he knew I did what I did. But then, my point is, think ‘HARD’ before you do anything stupid.

So here it is, my first official post. I don’t care if you didn’t enjoy it. Follow @SeyiSoneye . Till next time.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Why I Don’t Have Male Best Friends

Useful Information About Nothing

Heyyy guys! So we’re back here again, for the 2nd of #TheLast9Posts. Due to the lack of time and some other factors, today’s post is gonna be brief, but trust me to embellish it with the details! So, let’s get started!

 

Why I Don’t Have Male Best Friends Anymore

So this story takes place in my high school, Grade 8/JSS 2 to be precise. Remember how I told you my high school was a village? Yeah, I’m just reminding you so you don’t forget.
Anyways, after finally completing a whole semester and adjusting from VGC life of pampering and spoiling, to the hard village life I lived in high school, I started to finally enjoy myself and started becoming one with the system. Like any young teenager, my hormones started acting up, and I began to see females in a different light. I started to fall for one…

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