Dear You,
I should ask how your day is going but I won’t because I don’t want to care. Instead of beating about the bush before delving into what is really on my mind, I choose to go straight to the point.
I’ve been thinking about you. Well, not so much exactly considering the amount of distractions I’m surrounded by. Those few minutes at night, on my bed, just before sleep takes over, I think about you. When I wake up in the morning, I want to think about you but then I have to thank God for giving me life first. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to think about you would I?
I remember the first time I saw you. I remember the second time. I remember the third time too. You weren’t exactly what I’ve always thought I wanted. I really can’t say for sure what I want now but the first time I saw you, all my wishes and hopes, wants and standards flew out the window. I think the fact that you didn’t walk out of one of my dreams is what makes you special.
You probably won’t remember the first time we met. It was in CST, Hall 202. Same floor as the laboratory your programme is based in. CSC 121, Azu’s class. I sat at the back that day. Not because I wanted to but because most of the seats I wanted were taken. The class was going on, and then it was time to write. My pen stopped working and so I tapped you and asked if you had a spare one. That’s when it happened……. You turned around, Oh God…….. I only saw half of your face but I was immediately taken by your…..presence? aura? I can’t say for sure. I know I felt something. I really want to describe you right now but then I want your identity to remain hidden. This mystery belongs to only you and I. You placed the pen in my outstretched palm and continued writing whatever it was Azu wanted us to write. While I wrote, I kept thinking of who you were. This was my second semester in CU. We were, are in the same school or department or whatever it’s called and this was the first time I was seeing you. How could that be? The questions flooded my mind. I was brought out of my sort of daydream when Azu slowly walked to where I was sitting and seemed to drop a question for those of us in that section of the class to answer. God bless the person that answered because I would have made a big fool of myself if I was chosen to answer.
The class was over. I thought of talking to you but I couldn’t sum up any courage. I hated myself there and then. We had another CSC 121 class the next day so I felt reassured that our paths will cross once more.
The next day, I got to that class early. Not because I wanted to but because I wanted to see you. With a little calculation, some permutation and combination, I found myself sitting next to you. Bliss. Total Bliss. That was the first time I felt true happiness in CU. This time was almost different. I opened my mouth to say Hi but the words couldn’t come out. I tried hard and hard but I couldn’t make a sound.
We kept on meeting in CSC 121 class. I never said a proper word to you throughout that semester though.
I did my research and got your name. 8 letters. 8 letters I fell in love with. I looked you up on Facebook because I was desperate. I didn’t even remember my password cos it had been ages since I had checked there. I sent you a friend request. Every day CU Wi-Fi worked well, I checked to see if you had accepted. Two weeks later, when I was about to give up, you did. I was sooo elated. Thank you for ruining the happiness by not ever being online for a chat though.
During the holidays, I caught you online twice and said Hi. That was the only sensible thing I ever said there. Because after your replies, I found it hard to say constructive things. I remember this one time I asked you where you lived and then your answer was the most demoralizing thing ever. It didn’t discourage me though.
200 level, I promised myself things would be different this time. I wasn’t sure if you knew me but some awkward eye contacts later, I was sure you did. This year, well last year, but this session, Alpha semester to be precise, I said Hi to you once. I don’t know how it came out but I thank God it did. We still didn’t talk.
Have you ever looked into your eyes? It’s a very absurd question but I mean it. Dark, brown and they have this tiny sparkle in them. So captivating. So amazing. Almost alluring. I don’t think I can ever look into them and tell a lie. You’re so soo fair. Then there’s this hairdo you had on one time. I don’t know how to describe hair but I’ll try my best. Your hair was long. Significantly past your shoulders. You had it tied in a ponytail. The front was the really interesting part. You left one eye exposed; your left eye to be precise. Then a little hair covered your right eye, although I could still see through it.
Like the day I met you, you rarely overdo it. Light makeup. Never excessive. I like the way you wear nude lipstick. It makes me appreciate how unusually pink your lips are. You don’t try to be like everyone else. You wear clothes that work for you. Once in a while, you blow my mind by absolutely killing it on some of those Sundays.
Enough of the story. I simply want to thank you for making me know that you’re aware of my existence. I can’t remember the days for sure. The first time was normal. It was in the afternoon. Possibly 12:30 or so. I was outside the buttery, standing and listening to one of my friends laugh at me because I lost my iPad. I was really listening to him because I had both my eyes fixed on you. You weren’t looking my way I could stare as hard as I wanted. I flaunted a smug face while I stared. You weren’t mine but who cares?
Then that’s when it happened. I had taken my eyes off you for a minute and the next time I looked up, you were approaching the door of the buttery. I tried not to look at you but I couldn’t help myself. Three steps after, you were standing face to face with me. You didn’t stop but you did in my head. That’s when you opened those beautiful lips and said, ‘Hello Seyi’.
I actually thought I was dreaming. I was about replying but by the time I was ready, you were long gone. You made my day.
The second time was awkward. I was in the male toilet and you were in the female toilet. I was done doing whatever and I’m guessing you were too. And so, I stepped out and turned right, while you stepped out and turned left. This meant we were going to go past one another. I looked you in the eyes cos I’d developed this confidence over the months. You looked back at me. And just as we walked past each other, you said it again, ‘Hi Seyi’.
You made my semester. Thank you very much. I like the way you say my name because it makes me sure that you know I exist.
I’m not perfect. I’m not even close to perfect even though I joke about it at times. I’m not trying to be coy. I speak the truth. I might be in your friend zone, which in actual sense is impossible because of the obvious reasons. You might not think of me. You probably haven’t thought of me once. I don’t care. I’m satisfied with the two times you said my name. Boyfriend or not, that’s your business. Sorry to ruin the smiles but I hope you guys don’t work out 🙂 I don’t know what I feel for you but it feels good. I’ll wait for you.
I hope you’re reading this. I’m sincerely hoping you are. Just so you know, you’ve impacted someone’s life; and greatly so. One day, very soon, I believe we’ll sit down and have an awesome conversation. I hate ‘moistness’ and I suck at the romantic things of life. They’re funny to me. But I’ll gladly be ‘moist’ for you, anyday, anytime. I hope one day you’ll find me attractive. Till then, I will continue lying on my bed and thinking of what could be. I can’t wait to see that smile again.

Yours dreamingly,
Someone 🙂
Well, Uncle Shovel


Cool Story

Nigeria is a very funny place. After yesterday’s fruitful and fruitless day, I promised myself it’s going to be a loooong time before I get out again. So I decided I’m gonna be playing some games I stole from a cousin. Again, I woke up unusually early. No diarrhea issues today, Bless Da Lord somebody. After thanking Jehovah for a good, although hot night, I brushed my teeth cos my mouth was tormenting me. Morning breath after eating some concussion-ish food the previous night is of the devil people.

Everything seemed to be in place for me to game away my time. So I put on the game system, only for me to discover that my pad wasn’t working. I kept trying to make it work but those stupid 4 lights at the back of the pad kept blinking. Well I had money to waste at the time so I felt it’ll be wise for me to get myself a new pad. Obviously, Computer Village was the plan cos uno, not everytime standard store to buy those things, sometimes Computer Village cos everything is cheaper and you can price.

So I got dressed, without taking a bath of course, combed my hair and stepped out looking responsible. Few minutes later, I got to Computer Village. It didn’t take me a lot of time to find a shop that sold Ps3 pads. I went in and told them what I wanted. I spoke proper English so these guys were looking at me funny. They gave me one pad and I asked them if it was good. They said yes, obviously. So I asked for the price and one of them immediately said 8000. I was in my tush-boy-mode so I said okay and told them I was going to come back.

I located another store and these ones said 7500. I said okay again and left.

It was on my way out of the second store I began to reason what was happening. Cos I knew pads can’t be that expensive. When it’s not gold that they used to make it. It then dawns on me that these guys thought I was a mumu. You know how they increase price based on how you look na? So I decided to scatter my hair. Luckily, I’m wearing a ‘Work Hard Play Harder’ T-shirt inside so I took off the shirt I had on. Then I rubbed my palm on the ground and stained the T-shirt with dust.

Now I looked like a standard suffer-head. Not suffer-head per se, but I looked like a standard street-smart guy. With my new look, I stepped into another store, and asked for a ps3 pad; this time, I spoke Pidgin. The guy in the shop was Yoruba so I knew I could spit some tribal fire if needed. He gave me a pad and I asked if it was good. My pidgin sounded Igbo cos I’m not perfect at it. He looked at me well and said 5000. I smiled cos my new look paid off. Regardless, I wasn’t gonna pay 5000 even though I knew the real price was something like that, 4000 lowest.

I felt lucky so I decided to push it. I began to speak Yoruba mehn, adding that ‘agbero-ish’ tone uno, to sound tough. Telling this guy I was gonna pay highest 2000. Not everything is hereditary cos I found out I didn’t inherit that killer pricing trait Yoruba women possess. I paid the guy 4500 to show you how wretched my pricing skills are.

When I got home, I tested the pad and it worked fine. Fifa comes first in life so I slotted in a Fifa 14 cd, ready to damage some niggas online. I didn’t skip the Intro cos I hadn’t played games in a while. The intro finished and I was waiting for the system to connect to EA servers. I tried the ‘bad’pad  and WOW, it was working. *Sigh*

Some forces decided to visit me; this time in the form of serious disappointment. Ps3 no connect. I opened the Swift page on my laptop. ‘Balance remaining: 0.0’.

Wifi ti expaya. No wahala.

*Poh Poh Poh* Player Career Mode. Loading……..

<Phone Rings>

It’s mumsy. She’s reminding me about one seminar-ish, program-ish something I must go for. ‘Have a Nice day ma’

<Cuts call>

Oya back to Fifa

<TV Screen goes blank>



Thank You Nepa.

My Life; Your Entertainment

WARNING: The following content possesses no regard for the English Language as all laws or rules of English were not obeyed. It was not revised or proof-read. It equally has no atom of Chill, is RAW to the core and long. This is not for the easily disgusted, weak at heart, lazy or the ‘judging’. If you know you can’t handle any of the listed above, kindly close this page and smash whatever technological device you are viewing this on. Oluwaseyi Opeyemi Soneye, 93rd King of Abeokuta, 2nd cousin of Iya Rainbow is in no way responsible and doesn’t give half a goat about what your views, opinions, reaction or whatever is to the this content. However, he won’t mind if you direct your opinions to that comment side. Opinions being what you feel, typological errors, complaints and blah. Dazzal.

Today, well yesterday now, but today sha. You get? Ehen, as you and the whole world obviously knows, I never wake up before 10am lowest sha, except there’s a fire or something. So this morning, things were not supposed to go according to plan. I woke up quite early. 4am at first. Not that I wanted to but you know na, hot, peppery poopoo demands to be felt and released. I went to put plenty pepper in my Indomie the previous day. So sha, after really suffering in the toilet, I thought it was allova and so I went back to my bed and slept. As I said, poopoo demands to be felt and so I was up again, this time 4:30am. Awkward yeah? Devil has a wristwatch uno. So I went about the business. Nothing really came out sha. Ma checked on me and saw that I was awake which was wrong. I never see her in the morning, only if I game all night. So she tells me to follow her to her room where she asked if I was depressed or sad. She said she was really worried, that I’ve not been going out much. And that I’ve not been calling too. I thought she was being funny but you know that face Yoruba women put on when they’re not cracking jokes… So sha, I told her not to worry, that I call and I go out. Pops woke up and began to buttress Ma’s point. I actually started giggling but these people didn’t shine gums. So Ma said I must go out today. I told her I wanted to the previous night so it wasn’t surprising. I give her a confused look and she’s like ‘Yes, Seyi were really worried. Are you depressed? You can tell me. What are you doing in the house? An idle mind is the devil’s workshop o. You’ve not been playing games for the past 3 or 4 days and you don’t even do that your blog thing’. I wanted to answer, “World Cup” but naah, so I tell her not to worry and take my leave.

It was like a dream to me cos I don’t see‘4:30am’ much.

So sha, I slept but once again, hot poopoo wakes me up. This one was hotter than fire. Hotter than Mocheddah yo. I acc poured water on my ass as I released. My ass is not big like your own so it was quite easy for water to reach my anus. Naah, released is just wrong but I’m not ready to stress my brain. So after that one, I begin to do nothing in particular. The poopoo calmed down, actually went. The day was going fine. Until I went to one ATM to withdraw before I headed out only to see . In my mind, I’m like, “Nice joke”. I tried again and money came out.

Sha sha, I checked to see the movies that were showing and TFIOS was showing in Ozone; although I’d checked the previous day. So last last Ozone was my choice. It’s dead but hey. Pops didn’t leave for work early so I suggested I drive us to ozone and drop off. So when I was ready to leave, I got in the driver’s seat while Pops rode shotgun. As I’ve said before, my driving skills are at 22% and my street confidence is at 2% so after I almost bashed the car from too much fidgeting, Pops laughed and told me to forget. So he drove and dropped me at a bus stop (the guy sha).

I got to Ozone and immediately went in cos TFIOS was starting soon. So I went in the big TV place and sat down. This is where the day started fam

I was busy bbm-ing and temple running o, when one light skin, (Oh My God! I don’t know what to call her mehn) sat next to me. I looked up from the phone and saw her face. Nothing came to my mind. Only that I had to compose around this babe. Trust me to immediately throw a stick of Orbit in my mouth. Mans always armed with Orbit. Brethren, she was BURRIVVVUUULLL. Like Kim K meets a female version of Seyi Soneye meets Agbani Darego meets Caro meets two angels meets naah, not Rihanna, meets Lupita meets everything meet-able. I actually used scopes to be gauging her. Da Lord is a Great Lord people. She was wearing a white cropped top or whatever it’s called. It was half of a regular top sha (That’s cropped innit?). She was busty. I could see part of the bwezz cos the cropped tee was a V-neck. Have you seen cleavage that makes you happy before? I have. Fine bwezz no pimple. I wasn’t scoping that area of the female but it sorta reached out to me by itself. Bwezz can sometimes mess with the thinking of a brotha yo. Ass is not key. Niggas have ass. But bwezz mehn. What you can do to bwezz! Plus she wasn’t skinny skinny. And those close to me know I’m all about not skinny skinny females. I’m also a mlut so I don’t mind skinny skinny girls but not skinny skinny girls do well with this Brotha anytime. Actually I think I’m cool with any kind of female.

So I’m gauging the babe and dying like a mumu in Temple run. I’m disorganized and so I’m checking BBM, temple running, googling shit and searching for something on lifeofshovel. From the way she spoke, I’m guessing deffs not Igbo so Yoruba probably. In all of this, funny enough, I’m actually not interested in the girl. Of course I wanted to talk to her cos she came with who I’m guessing is her junior brother who was deffs not a problem to get rid of. But I’m also gauging bants cos this could be a trap. In my short life, I’ve had traps come my way and I’ve chopped some, so naah, man had to be wiser. So I’m done gauging the babe and then I’m busy scrolling through lifeofshovel, looking for a particular post and minding my business when allofasudden, she taps me and says, ‘You read that too’. I was too shocked that she tapped me so I’m not even trying to understand how dafuq she knows lifeofshovel. I’m calculating algebra and Further Maths in my mind cos I don’t want to mess this up and so I say, extremely casually, ‘Yeah, I’m guessing you do too’. Then she’s like ‘Oh My God, I do. It’s funny, some sha’. I didn’t want to let her know she was talking to Uncle Shovel himself, cos you know, manss not about easy things life. So I say, ‘Which post is your favourite?’ ‘Umm, I think, Susan or the one about a baby sister. That one about his sister and cousin is funny’.’. While she’s mentioning, I’m calculating PhD Maths to know which post was which. Then she asks which one was my favourite and then I told her the one about the rats. She was like ‘Eww’ and so in my mind, I’m stabbing myself. Sha sha, the movie starts and I’m getting a not-so-good vibe from the movie cos I could tell what was gonna happen next; and the words too. So I mistakenly say what Gus was gonna say one time and ‘Hotcake’ looks to at me and asks if I’ve watched the movie before and I tell her naah, I’ve watched the book. She giggles and I’m wondering why. Then I gauged what I said and didn’t bother correcting myself. She said she’s read the book too so were discussing about it while the movie’s going on and were pointing out all the flaws. Like how Hazel pops didn’t cry in the movie. So sha, I want this girl to know I actually read the book, which is a gay act in some minds, but naah mehn, I’m feeling like Red Ranger cos she was impressed. I’m talking about the book and being philosophical, speaking like an English student, spitting fire yo. I’m talking Wole Soyinka meets that Patrick guy fire. Spitting words I know don’t exist. But she’s clearly gullible cos she’s nodding her head and agreeing with me. So we go on and on and break once in a while cos uno, the 500 me I paid cannot waste. Movie ends and this lady actually pulled a rapture move on me by standing up and walking out. She didn’t say a word.

So I’m sitting there, trying to understand what had just happened. Eyes welled up but uno can’t act like a female cos of some fine ass female. So I get up and get out. The day’s still young so I decide to watch another movie. Man chose Blended cos Adam Sandler is a very close friend. So I get a hotdog and Fanta cos Fanta is life and go into the big TV place again. I sight ‘Hotcake’ and I say ‘Shit’ to myself. I don’t want it to look like I’m following her so I chose to seat in front of her. I made it look like a coincidence tho. So the movie begins and next thing I know, ‘Hotcake’ appears next to me.

I’m calculating what had just happened when she asks me for my name. I knew it was time to change it for her so I tell her ‘Seyi Soneye’ louding that Soneye part so she’ll know it was the Shovel himself. I’m about that lowkks life so I tell her not to make a big deal out of it cos she’s already saying ‘Oh My God!’ in a seemingly loud tone. We’re watching the movie and laughing like hell cos it’s a funny ass movie. After some time, this girl actually put her hand on my lap. It was there for a second but it felt like 32 years cos manss mind was roaming like MTN. I’m busy imagining all sorts and cursing any Jezebelic spirit when she simply grabbed the phone which was on my lap and began to play temple run. I hit myself for putting it there. So we begin to talk and she’s asking me why I tell stories and if they’re true. I’m answering her, uno, treating her like a fan cos I have other women in my life. She’s almost interviewing me and in my mind, I’m like, ‘Bruh, you’re almost zoning a 10 yo. Like fan-zoning a 10’. I’m doing the nae nae, skelewu-ing and dancing alingo at the same time while I thought about it. The rapport I was building here was epic mehn cos I’m giving her some Lava hot fire questions to answer. Them questions that reach deep into her soul. Were really connecting. So I’m thinking about it. Do I get her contacts or do make her queen of my fan-zone? The former seemed appealing cos she’s the kind of female I know I might never come across again but then the latter seemed like a Superman move (Silly ehh?)

Perfect 10 Sir. Perfect. Her only flaw was that she kept pronouncing ‘Gus’ as in ‘Gauss’ as ‘Goos’.

Movie was at the end and I’m still reasoning it as we spoke when allofasudden she seemed to type something on her phone after which she gave me my phone. I’m smiling cos I’m guessing she typed her contacts into my phone too. I checked my phone only to see that this light-skin demoness had killed my battery. I’m bout to ask her why and then she placed her left hand on my shoulder and began to lean in. I’m thinking, ‘keez keez’ so I’m gauging her lips and mouth for any ‘gbogbozee’ or ‘yamayama’. It was like another film trick when she placed a casual peck on my cheek. I’m thinking, ‘Davug?’ when this female stood up and left like nothing happened.

After 2 minutes of understanding everything that had just happened, it dawns on me that I never got her name although I knew her brother’s name was David cos she mentioned it once. So I get up and fast walk out of that place. Man was searching for this girl like they searching for them Chibok girls. I didn’t find her so I’m feeling stupid as hell. I hiss really loud and got out of da building.

So it’s time to go home and I get on a bus cos that’s life for you. I’m a little teary-eyed so I put my head down. I can’t wait to get home cos I wanna watch football and forget that light-skin but trust Lagos traffic to change it for me. So obviously, nothing worse can happen and whatdoyouknow? One smelly ass dude sat next to me. This guy smelt like ammonia mixed with rotten rat. I hold my breath for as long as I can cos I’m not with my inhaler and I’m not ready to die. Traffic speeds up so I could breathe now. I get home to meet no light so I sit and begin to reminisce.

And then I got a phone call.

<Private Number> I pick up and say ‘Hello’ in the tushest voice possible cos uno, it could be the white man calling to tell me I had a billion dollars somewhere.

Then the caller’s like

‘Hello, Seyi. It’s me, I sat next to you today’

I’ve summersaulted 300 times and I’m about to ask how she got my number and what her name was…..

Then the line went dead…..


A Night Among Nights

It was an unusually hot night. There was no light which was surprising. Since I got home from, NEPA has been suspiciously nice compared to the higi-haga-ishiousness they’re known for in these parts. After half-heartedly watching the England – Italy match, (‘half-heartedly’ because I was distracted by a phone call that turned out to be worth the time) Dad and I began to discuss about the match. About how Pirlo was too sublime with his every move and Liverpool’s really good performance.  I wanted to see the Ivory Coast – Japan game but there was church early the next day. After praying, everyone left for their various rooms while I went outside to turn off the gen. In my room, and on my bed, I found it hard to sleep so I decided to read a book on my laptop. Sure enough, I slept off. The room was dark, except for this really thin ray of moonlight from the window. ‘Argghh’. That was me feeling the excruciating pain in my chest. I was used to the pain from a good number of experiences I’d had with this stupid thing I didn’t ask for; but it hurt like hell regardless. I’d slept shirtless so the heat wouldn’t get to me if the room became hot. I ran my fingers through the sheets as I searched for my inhaler (That sheets part is a lie. Man doesn’t lay his bed like that). Searched for it for about a minute and I didn’t find it. Checked under my pillow and it wasn’t there either. ‘Oh no!’. This was going to be a really painful night. I’ve found myself in this kind of situation a good number of times so I had discovered by trial and error, different ways to ‘treat’ myself. One very good solution was drinking hot water. I know it doesn’t actually work medically, but it works fine for me psychologically. So with the little strength I had left, owing to the fact that I couldn’t take in enough oxygen, I dragged myself to the kitchen. I’m used to the house so it wasn’t tasking to find my way in the partial darkness. I went to the water dispenser to check if the ‘hot water’ was still hot. Now that I’m thinking about it, that was a really ‘Super-eagles-esque’ move. Only one option was left and so I lit the gas cooker and placed a kettle on the fire.  While I waited for the water to get hot enough, I went to get my laptop and continued reading ‘Deception Point’.  Five and a half pages later, the kettle began to bubble so I knew the water was ‘done’. After two mugs of hot water, I sat on the kitchen floor and waited to see if I was going to feel better. Sure enough, I did. ‘Haha in your face Chest pain’ My laptop was dead by now. Sleep was obviously the next thing. While I took really short steps on my way to my room, I couldn’t help but perceive the aroma of this really nice stew Mum prepared earlier. You know that stew that Yoruba people take with Ofada rice? That one that’s often peppery and garnished with all kinds of meat; from shaki to pomo to ‘round-about’ to regular beef? Yeah, that stew. That Iya Basira kind of stew. That stew that Esau sold his birthright for. The same stew that can cure madness and cancer? Yaah, that’s the one. We had eaten rice with the stew that night. In fact, we had been eating Rice or anything that goes with the stew for the past week and were not stopping until it is finished.  Surely, you should know it was me that forced Ma to prepare the same meal all week. Many times after she cooked that stew, I found myself, no sugarcoating, stealing it. It was good enough to be taken as a meal itself. Mum caught me once or twice and of course, as the proper Yoruba woman she is, shouted at me. After eating, Mum had told me to put the pot of stew in the freezer but I had forgotten. I’m sure some rats from my school that surely know their way around the country had somehow gotten to my house and taken some of the stew with them to wherever. I turned back for the kitchen and carried to pot to the freezer. The pot was still hot and so a really great idea crossed my mind. Obviously, I don’t need to spell it out that I thought of taking some of the stew. And so, I took a small saucer and scooped some of the stew into it. Sure enough, I made sure there were enough pieces of meat in every scoop. Two scoops seemed fair enough and so I covered the pot and dropped it to the freezer. It was time to get down. Definitely, I was going to enjoy those two scoops with the confidence of 300 Spartans since no one was awake.  I took a teaspoon from the dish drainer, sat down on the freezer and said that, ‘Bless this food o Lord for Christ’s sake’ prayer in my head. As I scooped a tea spoonful of the ‘obé –aiye’, in the words of Lord Azu of Hebron, ‘I was like them that dream’ when the unexpected happened. Like joke, Like joke, Like Ronaldo during that Germany match, Like when a rich nigga wants you, and your nigga actually can do nothing for ya, Like Ghanaians after 32 seconds, I thought it wasn’t time, I wasn’t ready, I didn’t see it coming………….. A voice spoke, chillingly close.

“Do not move”