musings- trois

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ON THE STREETS OF LAGOS

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Basira, the daughter of Iya Basira OniParaga, is one of the girls that allow agberos to  by force  her. I wonder why they speak of it as  by force  since Basira giggles like a wild duck on honeymoon during the act. In my understanding, whatever you enjoy is not forced. At least that is what our English said when a schoolboy told us his Mother forced him to eat his favorite food every day.  Hearing Basira's cherry moan amongst parked cars is everything but  by force. Right, what does a boy know? Everyone in the  Lungu  knew Basira's gist. Well, except, of course, her very Mother. If she knew, she never let it on because Iya Basira was only in the second position to my Mother in curses and fake enmity. Lizards in the wall cracks carry on the tale of Basira's numerous  by force  escapades. Denial is just denial. That woman has heard the stories; she is lying to herself. On this day, Basira and one of these no do-gooders were sharing a moment in broad daylight. I m
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On The Streets of Lagos....

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See, it was not so hard to fancy Ajeps. His entire being oozes of a kind of Swagga not common in other agberos. For one, he was always neat and well kept. And his steps had a definitive bounce to them. If tables turned, that man would have been a man of poise. I think my endearment towards him began when he first attempted to speak English to me. I was more intrigued than amused, and well, I did not laugh at him.  Halo Boys, I ear that pe, you use to go, class,” shey, you wee teaching me one or tow? You should have seen the stern look on his face. Something passed there for just a second.   ******* Padi e, go buy me garri and pure water; mortuary standard, epa- everything sha, you don get? .  And I will shake my head, or answer “  I get”  running as fast as my young legs could carry me. Ajeps always had change;  beta life  was forever first on top of the wads of cash that seem to struggle to fit into his pockets. And I will dash off like a flash, my youn
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On The Streets Of Lagos

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 Iya Oniboli is at it again, talking at the top of her voice alone. Someday, her listeners will go deaf. Since the fateful day Ajepe rescued me from the hands the under bridge lot, my Mother’s tongue never gave his name Peace.  Ajepe this one, Ajepe savior; maybe Ajepe took away the sins of Lagos *eyes rolling* Suddenly Baba Aladura’s prophesy fizzled into thin air. And Ajepe’s exploit made the headline in her news. Ajepe only fancied me as I did him hence the help, nothing more and nothing less.  Trust my mother to keep up with the drama. I guess I would too if I had just one kid. Events like this remind me of how precious I must be to her, and I for sure get to see that uncommon smile gracing her lips. I don’t believe my mother deserved the title “Iya” yet but how then will her merchandise be traced directly back to her. Somehow, that title ages her but her beauty never grows old. The skin under her usual skin-tight and free top was beautiful to behold. Her face although na
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