CASH OR CREDIT 3.........

This is a continuation of Jen's complicated life in the crazy city of lagos! Part 1 can be found here and Part 2 here. Enjoy!

PART 3-

8.45am Monday morning on the concrete steps that flank the huge revolving glass doors of Holloway Grove in Victoria Island. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky and the heat began to intensify as the morning progressed, traffic groaned along ever more hurriedly as Lagosians frantically tried to make it to their offices just in the nick of time.
Nigerians are known for their excellent time keeping skills; well sometimes anyway.

Musa, the front gate man for Holloway Grove sat on the third step watching the drama, in his opinion he had best view this side of the continent.
He was a 55 year old man with wise eyes, thick dark curls for hair and a heavy Hausa drawl. He had been a handsome man in his youth and still was in fairness but he never noticed that. His very northern features-pointed nose, long jaw and high cheekbones showed no wrinkles against his dark complexion and Sandra the receptionist occasionally complained that he looked almost her age, this made Musa laugh. His apparent calm earned him a fan in the young receptionist and most days he ate his lunch for free. Musa had done his fair share of hard labour in the unrelenting pronominal heat of the north during his youth and now he felt ready for semi-retirement which is what he got here. Musa did not mind his job, he received mediocre pay for doing mediocre work and that was fine by him, as long as he earned enough to send his children to school back in Nasarawa State he was content.
Peeling an orange Musa quietly whistled, and fiddled with the volume control, to keep the noise of his portable radio at an acceptable level. His dark curls shone in the bright sun, wet from the ablution of his morning prayers and just as he was about to raise the rind of his fruit to his lips he saw the new “bature" looking girl glide in through the staff entrance. He remembered her from last Thursday, mostly due to her nervous constant finger wringing but today she seemed to glow. Musa recalled Sandra explaining a weird conversation between the new girl and Kabir the Architect. Musa understood; Kabir seemed to have that effect on women, he attributed the bitter tone in Sandra's voice to sour grapes. Although, as he watched the young girl delightfully skip her way towards the glass chrome doors he felt slightly concerned by her giddy disposition. She smiled at him and half-knelt in greeting, Musa nodded back a response and watched her smile broadly and check her reflection in the glass doors, he sighed. He knew Kabir and he worried for the young girl.

9.00am Monday morning and Jen strolled into the grand foyer of Holloway her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor; passing by the empty reception desk- the lycra receptionist was late- she smiled reminiscently at the glass sculpture and made her way straight for the elevator. Everything was wonderful today, nothing could bring her down. She passed the interview last Thursday and looked forward to her job as Junior Auditor for Prada & Co, she had a wonderful boyfriend and she was wearing new Kurt Geigers. Producing her brand new staff card Jen virgin swiped it at the elevator and gave a little dance as she was electronically signed her in and the doors silently slid open. Her manicured cranberry painted finger nail pressed the fifth floor and Jen summoned up Kabirs scent as the elevator rose slowly to her office. It seemed a life-time ago she had stood in this glass box staring at his startling beauty, as her blush began to deepen the doors stopped at her floor.
The floor was just as large as Kabir’s office and five sun windows adorned the white-washed walls. It was a rectangular space and the fifteen square shaped cubicles offered adequate work surface. The cream carpets stretched all around the front area and down the hall to the printing and faxing section. The MAC computers quietly hummed, having been switched on from the mains and the coffee machine bubbled away.
Her boss Mrs. Susan Shaw had her office situated at the centre of the floor. A round glass box, offering no privacy, for better transparency, she had told Jen during her interview. Mrs. Shaw had already arrived and was elbow deep in paper work despite being the only one in the office, Jen admired her commitment. She walked towards her door and knocked quietly against the dark panelled wood
“Morning Mrs. Shaw” she whispered
Her boss looked up startled. In the dull glow of her table lamp her blond hair looked silver. Her face had reached a stage where it had become susceptible to wrinkles but in the quiet of the morning her skin shimmered, her green eyes appeared alert and distracted at the same time and the dark spectacles atop her head gave her a head-mistress look.
Balancing the telephone in the crook of her left shoulder, Mrs. Shaw gestured to one of the empty chairs in her office and apologetically pointed to the telephone. Jen nodded in understanding and took a seat. She listened as her boss brokered a transaction with a mobile service provider, occasionally jotting down numbers and calculating percentages, she seemed to have five arms with the speed at which she operated. Jen knew her boss was Liverpool University alumni and was married to an Ijaw man, although she maintained her maiden name. He worked from home as a landscape architect and she was a high-powered financial force to be reckoned with. Jen saw The Shaw’s life as a future prediction for her and her beloved Kabir.

Jen busied herself by staring at the framed picture of her bosses kids on the mantel piece displayed besides her Trusted Staff award. Taken at the beach, the 10year old identical boy and girl twins beamed brightly at the camera and proudly showed off their red plastic buckets and matching spades, blue sea and the crooked sand castle they had built were in the background. They had arms around each other, curly half-caste hair and light brown coloured skin dripped water and their matching blue swimming trunks were soiled with sand. They were beautiful to look at and the image made you smile. Honestly, the picture looked like a poster for M&S kids’ summer collection
“Nne Kedu" her boss said sweetly into the telephone receiver
Jen’s head jerked up, she knew her boss spoke Yoruba almost as good as she did, she also heard Mrs. Shaw conversing with the security guard in broken Hausa on the day of her interview as she walked Jen out; but Igbo? That was seriously impressive. Jen listened intently to the one-sided conversation.
“Ewu...” Mrs. Shaw said jokingly
“Is it me you want to cheat? You promised u know.”
“So I should expect your boy when?”
“Okay darling. You’re my favourite again"
Mrs. Shaw hung up laughing and turned her full attention to Jen. After niceties were exchanged and coffee offered, she walked Jen to her desk and handed her the tax returns from last month.
“You’ll be dealing with the expenditure aspect and Mariya- Mrs. Shaw tapped the desk besides Jen- will deal with payments.”
She looked at Jen for a while after that and said very slowly
“We don’t offer training wheels here, Jennifer. The minute you feel overwhelmed you let me know. There is no shame in asking for help”
“I understand” Jen said
As her boss walked away, the elevator sounded and deposited eight more of her team-mates. One of whom brought cookies- yep, Jen definitely loved today. Mariya was a tall and slender girl in a chequered high-waist skirt and amazingly beautiful. Her ink-black weave was precision parted down the centre of her forehead and hung down to her breasts with the edges pencil sharp straight. Her very slanted eyes peeked out from amazingly arched eye-brows, a smooth forehead and very high cheekbones polished mocha skin. Her heels and hem line were the highest in the office and it would be easy to hate but for her first-class certificate in Quantitative Finance from Imperial College London mocking you. The Swarovski crystal frame glinted against the dark wood panel of her work desk and Jen felt inadequacy for the first time in a long time.
Mariya nodded in Jen’s direction, grabbed an M&M cookie from the box being passed round and sitting down gracefully on her upholstered chair got to work. Her red nails churning out numbers on her sleek calculator almost as fast as Mrs. Shaw this morning. Great Jen thought, she’s hot and smart, just bloody fantastic.

As the morning progressed Jen wondered why Kabir had not called, she was slightly worried that he might be ill. They had only spoken for a short while on Sunday but she had been so busy with church and the family lunch that she thought she would let him sleep in. it was now Monday and Jen’s conscience was starting to niggle annoyingly. Her blackberry displayed the delivery status of the previous five text messages she had sent to Kabir just this morning. Now she began to panic, she hoped he was alright. It was unlike him not to check-in; maybe he was just swamped with work. Yes, that was it. It wasn't a slow day on the fifth floor either, Jen mused as her colleagues traded Night of a Thousand Laughs jokes across cubicles. The cookie lady performed an amazing imitation of something and Jen tried to laugh with everyone else. Every thirty seconds she glanced at her phone, even switching it off and on again to make sure the radio waves were clear. Nothing. The little voice in her head tried to speak but Jen silenced it with more cookies, three cups of strong coffee and when the afternoon dessert trolley arrived, cupcakes covered in icing sugar.

By mid-morning Jen was wired up, neurotic and bordering on paranoia. She incessantly tapped her heels against the side of her desk ignoring the do-u-mind coughs from Mariya. Three unanswered calls and a further six text messages later she gave up on work and concentrated on staring at her phone and pressing the send button every time the screen went dark. There was a bitter feeling beginning to rise in her throat.
“A watched phone never rings” Mariya said as she gave a pitiful side look
Jen hissed angrily at her, and grabbing her suit jacket from behind her chair decided to brave it all and confront the eight floor. She would merely go and find out that he called in sick, and then she could silence the voice in her head and get back to number crunching. The elevator rose up too soon and Jen stepped out nervously, she immediately locked eyes with the polka-dot lady she had met on her previous visit. Jen walked up to her and said as nonchalantly as she could
“Kabir didn’t come in today?”
The lady appeared to look ashamed for a minute but her features relaxed again before Jen could be sure.
“No he’s in dear” she replied in clipped English and "Im fine, thank you for asking"
Jen didn’t possess the fortitude to be embarrassed at her lack of tact and immediately made a beeline for Kabir’s office. The little voice had to be silenced; maybe he had a horrible accident and lost all use of his fingers….or something, Jen turned the handle of the door without knocking, her vocal chords set to accuse, and her hands balled up in fists but found an empty office. She looked desperately around for a clue, a reason, or an explanation for this silent treatment but found nothing. His Sony Ericsson charger was plugged in at the wall which meant he was with his phone; his desktop screen displayed cutaway drawings in three-dimensional illustration of the new wing of a bank. There was no way around it, he was at work but didn’t want to speak to her.

Jen’s chest closed up and her heart began to thud painfully. What had she done wrong? Kabir was ignoring her and she didn’t know why. Then her brain snapped forcefully into focus, of course she knew why the little voice nagged. What else could he want from her, he had everything already. Jen felt the last dregs of optimism drain from her soul.
Shaking her head disbelievingly Jen half-ran out of the office and took the stairs down to her floor, she raced along rapidly and grabbed her bag from beneath her table, shoving her belongings in as hurriedly as she could, bruising her fingers in the process. Ignoring the stares of Mariya and everyone else she painfully bit her lip as she draped her bag on her shoulders. She just had to get out of here before her eyes began to bleed. Her breathing was already apace, she just had to leave this stupid building right-away. She yanked out the plug of her system and ran to elevator, her head ached, her feet pinched in the tight leather of her shoes and her palms stung from where she’d scraped her skin against the inner zipper in her bag. The lift was taking too long so Jen made for the fire-exit and she began to stumble on the tiled steps, just as she heard a British accent bark out her name.

Jen turned around to face her boss and opened her mouth to say how ill she was feeling, possibly blame it on the cupcakes. Mrs. Shaw rose up a hand stopping Jen before she even begun and ignoring her red face and wet eyes, crooked her index finger beckoning her closer. Jen stepped meekly forward.
“The human resource department needs your records. I have filled out the form sheet but in order to be processed faster it needs to be delivered by hand. The floor secretary is on her lunch break so you should take it down.” Mrs. Shaw ordered

Jen nodded her head once in response and collected the brown filofax envelope with a sweaty hand. Turning around she walked slowly down the stairs, halting once again as her name was sharply called. Jen turned around tiredly and faced her boss again
“Come straight back here. I don’t care how poorly you feel” and with that Mrs. Shaw turned on her heel and disappeared into the office

Jen held down tears of self-pity as she walked briskly down the stairs to the second floor. It was a small room in comparison to her office but was brightly lit with about a dozen fluorescence ceiling lights. A large glass cabinet dominated the centre wall and held heavily bounded files and records, majority in hardback. There were no standing metal cabinets for storage as Jen expected but as defined normality for Holloway the room was air conditioned to a great extent. The heavy floral scent perfumed the air and jolted Jen from her distressed state. She paid attention the burst of colour from the array of floral arrangements that perfumed the air and enlivened the otherwise bare room with their hue; glass vases displayed everything from sunflowers and chrysanthemums and large green tropical leaves.
Marching to the first available cashier, Jen plonked down the filofax and asked for a staff admission form, the fat lady clad in a heavily patterned boubou handed Jen one without even looking up from the Nigerian movie playing on her compact DVD player resting on her lap. She heavily sucked on her lollipop and Jen resisted the urge to shove it down her throat. Jennifer handed back the completed boring questionnaire, collected her stamped letter and was about to leave through the secondary entrance when the floral scent was disturbed by spice. It was strong and intrusive and Jen in her hazy state seemed to watch in slow motion as down the hall Kabir escorted a girl in a purple scarf down the stairs. The fat lady noisily sniffed the air once too and quickly pressed the intercom whispering in a loud voice to her colleague “E don come o”
All three women stared as Kabir held hands with the petite dark girl. Kabir held their joint palms to his chest and as they got to the landing of the stairs bent his head and kissed her lightly, delicately and in an ethereal fashion on her lips. Jen looked on as though in a bad movie. It was the scene from his office last week, but Kabir was the one encapsulated in the beauty of the woman. He stared at her in a way different from how he looked at Jen- not with enraging desire and confusion but with reverence and idolism. Like he literally would worship the ground she walked on, and kiss the hem of her garment if she asked him to. He stroked the side of her face and bowed his head in submission, as though at her mercy. The cashier women oohed and made “God please send me my own” remarks.

Jen winced and gripped the table with white knuckles as her heart tore painfully and the ragged edges scraped against her empty chest. Through eyes pouring rain and blood she watched Kabir and the purple scarf girl kiss tenderly for a short while. Through the haze she heard the two cashiers in a distant conversation: Kabir and Halima were engaged, date not yet set, he has eyes for no one but her, has been coming down here everyday from the day she started work two years ago….

Jen began to tremble, as her bones shook furiously; it was like someone had struck a frozen rod into her very being, her body heat evaporated. The room was cold, too cold. The air conditioners blew Kabir's perfume more into her presence; it diffused within the room completely over-powering the floral scents that had shortly been her refuge. He was taking everything from her; her heat, her sanity, and her tears.
As Jen sobbing grew even louder she begged her weighted feet to move, her lips parted in silent prayer as she begged God to vanquish her from this place, she just wanted to disappear. The ground should open up and swallow her, allow her to live in darkness for awhile. The two women stared at Jen frightened as her sobbing grew worse. Jen tried to ask to be carried away, away from here but her lips made no audible sound and her body remained fixated, watching its own destruction….

Every time Kabir touched the girl, Jen hurt as if cut with a frozen knife; she was in so much pain and so terribly cold even her blood ran chilled. The way Kabir stared at her….wistfully; it was like she was all his blessings come true.
Jen’s conscience forced her lips to utter her name…Halima. Her life was Jen’s destruction, the author of her misery. Halima stared at Kabir in amusement as he pleaded with her to extend her lunch break, shaking her head no even as he kissed her fingers. It was worship, all worship from his part. Jen watched their exchange, asking herself how she could have ever thought she was Kabir’s type. Halima was petite; her strikingly beautiful face was unadorned with makeup apart from the kajal that lined her bright eyes and the long eyelashes that framed them. Her hair was covered in a bright purple scarf but the few strands that escaped were beautiful- long, dark and soft like his, her neck stood elegant and diamonds shone from the double piercings on her ear, her attire plain white shirt and a long black skirt; the heels her feet wore were short. She looked like a princess, effortlessly wonderful. Even through her pain Jen could see that.
Compared to Halima everything about Jen suddenly seemed excessive; her weave, her height, her breasts, her hips and her heels. Standing in the stairwell with Kabir, they struck a beautiful couple; his eyes adoring, her face bashful and their fingers entwined. Jen could never be that way; her head slightly bowed and her demeanour meek, modest and mild. She always stared straight into his eyes, never breaking contact.
It was never even a competition for Jennifer, Halima was exquisite and Kabir was enthralled by her. Just like Jen was with him even now as he stomped on her heart and made a mockery of what they had shared.
Kabir turned around at that moment and noticed Jen, he looked humiliated. Jen let the pain in her eyes show, hoping he would stride up to her, hold her and explain everything. Say she was confused and none of what she witnessed was real, Jen wanted him to hold her. Kabir gave Jen a final glance then and turned his back on her, kissing Halima a final time he climbed up the stairs and out of sight, laughing his husky laugh as she said something funny. Jen couldn’t stay anymore, she didn’t want to look into Halima’s eyes…she bolted from the room, grazing her ankle against the door jamb in the process.

Limping, Jen managed to make her way to the bathroom and crawled on all fours across the cold floor till she could lean her head against a porcelain sink. Jen slumped her shoulders, held on steadfast to the exposed metal piping least she collapse and wept. Jen wept for the framed picture of beautiful children playing on the beach that will never be, for the fantasy she had created that was a lie, for falling in love with the way he said her name, the cold that consumed her chest and clutched at her heart, each breathe squeezed at it till she gritted her teeth in pain, so Jen exhaled in huffs. Above all she wept because she was stupid, very stupid. Jen had been present at enough relationship interventions for girlfriends to know the drill.
It did not matter what had been said, she could hate him all she wanted but the fault would lie before her always. Kabir was a guy and she was the girl. She knew better, oh if her friends could see her now, the same friends she had given advice to, told to be strong, grown impatient with as they moped over forgotten passions. There was nothing different about her situation, she got played. Was she that easy a target? For all her self determination and drive, was she that easy a target?
If they could see her now….

Jennifer didn’t know how long she wept on the floor, scratching her nails against the sink each time a new wave of pain washed over her. Her shredded heart had long ago given up trying to explain what happened downstairs, come up with excuses. Her brain was weary from replaying very kiss she and Kabir shared and comparing it with the one she’d witnessed in HR. Jen shivered, her goose bumps grew more aggressive and her teeth began to shatter. As Jen lay in the foetal position rocking back and forth she heard the bathroom door creak open and heels click in her direction, her eyes were too sore to open and adjust so she kept them closed. Mariya tapped her foot impatiently
“You have work to do” she stated. Jen merely groaned and tried to turn away but Mariya calmly walked into her line of sight again
“We have a deadline and I will not let you mess up my quota” Mariya continued
Jen wished she would go away and leave her be, she didn’t need to be told she was a failure. She was aware of that already; she was a huge dumbass, stupid failure.
“Do u even know how pathetic you look?” Mariya continued unabashed
“Crying and writhing on the bathroom floor like a weakling. I don’t know what medication you are on but if you do not get yourself back to the office you will lose your job”
Jen didn’t care. She had no desire to work three floors below Kabir anyway.
“Listen!” Mariya’s voice rose. Jen jumped up startled
“Shaw is a taskmaster, but she rewards hard work well.” Mariya bent to eye-level with Jen “There is no greater revenge than success” and before Jen could respond, not that she was going to, Mariya walked out muttering “clean yourself up”

Jen wanted to lie on the floor till the pain stopped, till the world ended so she would never have to face Kabir again; then she thought of her mother. She had been full of praise and pride since Jen announced she got the job, to think she would lose it over a boy…..NO! Jen got up as steadily as she could and braved her reflection in the mirror above the sink, even with the attractive soft lighting it was worse than she expected. Her Acuvue one-a-day contact lenses had dried up from the saltiness of her tears; her eyes were red, puffy and itchy. Her mascara had left streak lines all down her face and her foundation caked, the cracks resembling dried riverbeds. Jen took out her contacts and cupping cold water from the tap soaked each eye for as long as she could, she washed her face with the bathroom hand wash and reaching for her bag with bruised fingers, brought out her make-up bag and slowly tried to look human. Once she was done, she dug out her lip-gloss but on finding that it was strawberry scented chucked it in the bin with all the force her limp arms could muster. Vaseline will just have to do then; she applied more of the ointment to her sore red fingertips and the darkened bruise on her slightly swollen ankle. Opening up the bathroom door, Jen monitored her heart rate and climbed the stairs to her office; ignoring the elevator. She was never using that again, ever.

Jen reached the fifth floor and praying reverently walked up to her bosses’ office and knocked. Mrs. Shaw accepted the stamped form without looking up from her computer and Asked Jen if she was feeling better. Jen forced a yes out of her parched throat and on dismissal ran back to her desk. Mariya handed Jen a glass of water without looking at her and a bulging file of receipts. Jen stared at the work and welcomed it, if her head was full of numbers her brain won’t be able to drag up memories, her heart won’t be able to wish, her body will be too fatigued to long for him. Jen faced her computer, grateful for the indifference and immersed herself in Excel.

A month or two passed, Jen paid no attention to time. There was no need as her routine was the same. She arrived each day at 8.45am, greeted Musa at the gate, walked by a vacant reception desk and made her way up to the fifth floor with her boss already present, elbow deep in paper work and two coffees ahead. After the first fortnight, Jen grew accustomed to her co-workers and their various routines; so every morning she would hand Musa an apple or an orange with a “Gashi Mallam” and always he would respond with a surprised “Ah Nagode.” Each lunch break she would go down to the reception desk and exchange gossip with Sandra- who she had grown to love as a result for their mutual fatherly bond with Musa. Except for on Wednesdays when Sandra took acting classes down at National Theatre, leaving Jen with the responsibility of buying Musa lunch. She regularly sourced Nollywood movies from the ladies in HR- Temi and Tolu, avoiding the tiny desk in the corner which belonged to Halima. She had them convinced that her breakdown from her first visit was a result of her boss screaming at her. “Eh Pele” they had said, offering her candy.
She had no luck pretending to Mariya, her co-worker, although Jen had a feeling she knew. Mariya was the type of woman who knew everything but chose not to say, she never indulged Jen in how she had known where to find that day, and Jen never asked. They had not formed a friendship and for that Jen was grateful, she didn’t want the only person that had seen her cower on the toilet floor to make small talk. Jen would constantly wonder if it was pity. They worked in comfortable silence, their numbers ahead of everyone else in the office and Jen liked it that way. The cookie lady- Meg brought a box every Monday because her sister ran a catering business and every Monday Mariya would have the M&M and Jen the chocolate chip. It was all normal, except for the fact that Jen never used the elevator and had to resist the urge to smash the glass sculpture in the foyer into a million pieces with a sledge hammer every time she walked by. Kabir had attempted calling her once since she last saw him and had left a distressed voicemail but nothing since then. She hadn’t bumped into him; they must be doing a good job of avoiding each other.

Harmattan came suddenly; the leaves fell rapidly from the trees and great gusts of wind assaulted Jen’s daily commute. The mornings were freezing with clouds hung low in the sky and the afternoons dry with the sun attempting to break through the dust. Jen put off wearing white till the dusty season passed and made the mallam who sold chap stick in his shed down the road more money than she liked to muse on.
It was on a dusty Friday afternoon as Jen sat on her desk chatting with Meg that she got her big break.
“You have earned yourself the Etisalat account Jennifer” Mrs. Shaw announced loudly to the whole office. Jen broke into a huge grin and jumped up bowing to loud applause from her colleagues.
“You’re on your own on this one. Mariya is chasing down leads for a different account. Now this is important, I’ve been working on this deal for a month and a half” Mrs. Shaw continued and Jen distantly remembered her first morning in the boss’s office and the conversation she had about the mobile company.

At 2.00pm the representative from Etisalat showed up and Jen put on her best Colgate smile. He was about two inches above Jen’s 5ft 7inc and he wore a bright yellow tie, the only colour against his otherwise boring suit. He walked as if in a hurry and made no attempt to shake Jennifer’s outstretched hand.
“We are so glad to have you with us” she beamed
Esosa Oyakilhome rolled his tired eyes and nodded abruptly “sure sure” he said
Oook Jennifer thought but his moodiness won’t dampen her joy, she continued cheerily
‘So here are our plans for your campaign expenditure, here at Prada & Co we believe you could double your profits with this mar-
“Are you always going to be like this” Esosa interrupted staring at Jen dejectedly. “Talking like you are in a commercial.”
Jen made to speak but Esosa hushed her. There is no need for this unnecessary smiling, so you can relax” he added fiddling with the glass swan on her table.
“What does this mean?” he asked
“Nothing” Jen responded curtly grabbing it from him and setting it down on her desk with a thud. Esosa chuckled at her abrupt gear change.
She flipped open the file angrily and noticed that the expenses form was absent from the paperwork.
“I’ll be just a moment” Jen said and without waiting for an answer, jumped up and walked towards the staircase. He didn’t care for niceties so why should she bother, besides he was right, they had already gotten the contract. After all, he was only the “boy” it’s not like he owned the bloody thing

Jen skipped down the stairs, humming determinedly, she was going to keep her spirits high, despite her difficult client. She was thinking of perhaps trying once more by sharing a joke she’d heard when he called her name
“Jennifer” Kabir said
Halting mid-step, Jennifer didn’t turn.
“Please we need to talk” Kabir continued walking towards her slowly. Jen tried to stop herself from looking up but she wanted to see if he was as she remembered. Try as Jen might she couldn’t make the horns and the forked tail fit on the live thing as easily as they had in her thoughts. He was still beautiful. They stared at each other for minutes, coming to the realization that they were alone again, for the first time since that Saturday. Just the two of them standing in the empty stairwell between floors.

“Jennifer…” Kabir smiled widely as they locked eyes. The scent washed over her like a warm waterfall, his voice like honey in her ears; but Jen had ammunition.
Jennifer saw herself on the floor that morning, the way Mariya found her and shook her head vehemently from side to side.
“No, no, no,” she repeatedly whispered. “Stay away from me” Jen backed her steps till her back hit the wall on the landing
“Jennifer please, just let me explain” Kabir said pained as he saw the mistrust in her eyes. It cut him deep that Jen was so hurt; she was moving away from him.
“Married…” was all Jen’s lips could say. As Kabir made to reach out, Jen put up her hands as a defensive wall
“Married” she repeated
“If you just let me explain, Jennifer look at me, you know I will never hurt you. It’s not as you think I swear” Kabir said sincerely
Jen couldn’t believe him, she vowed never to trust. How could he stay here and lie to her face like this. He thought she could be an easy target twice? Jen ran past him and down the stairs to the HR department. Ignoring him as he called her name.

Panting she asked for the expense form and tried to hurry Temi and her incessant lollipop suckling so she could get back to work. Work calmed her; the fifth floor was her oasis. Just then Halima walked in and after smiling politely in Jen’s direction, greeted Tola in that musical voice of hers. Jen needed to get out of here and fast. She cursed Temi’s chubby fingers as she stamped the form sluggishly and in her haste to leave Jennifer bumped into someone coming in. Jen knew it wasn’t Kabir from the moment of impact. Looking up it was Esosa, what was he doing here? Esosa smiled at her obvious annoyance as he steadied her shoulders and was about to make a snide comment when he caught sight of Halima. He stared at her and Jen without turning around said “She’s beautiful isn’t she”
“Yeah” Esosa responded. Then without looking at Jen said “but too much like a doll you know. It’s all good to stare, but I wouldn’t date her. What if she broke? I prefer my women a bit tougher around the edges and bigger too, that way I won’t lose them in a crowd or get mistaken for a paedophile”
Jen looked at Esosa “Thank you” she mouthed honestly
“No problem” he responded confused
“I have to be leaving now but your boss, the white lady, told me to give you this form and get it approved by HR. It’s the permission slip for the trip to Abuja next month; it coincides with an Architect conference or something so it has to be jointly approved.”
Esosa scanned the room confused. “Why are there so many flowers?” he asked

Jen took the paper with slightly shaking fingers and sure enough there was his name- Kabir Tijani- on the slip. They along with twelve others will be accommodated at the Sheraton Hotel and Towers for a weekend. Jen almost laughed, what kind of a cruel joke is this. She paused mid lip-read at that moment and looked up at Esosa; Jen wanted to say thank him for bringing it down and saving her a round trip up and down the stairs. She had caught him off guard, and he was staring at her. Jen remembered the look in his eyes from hazy dreams; she tried to place it and with a falling of a note remembered it as the same one she wore her first day at Holloway, as she and Kabir stood in the elevator. It was a look of utter joy, and it was in Esosa’s eyes….

Hurriedly excusing herself Jen laid the form on Temi’s desk and escaped up the stairs, it wasn’t until she was half-way up that she recalled his name- Esosa Oyakilhome-was on the list too.

It was going to be one hell of a weekend in Abuja…….


By Miss S.B

ALBUM REVIEW-----M.I aka MR INCREDIBLE.......

Ladies and Gentlemen blogville, I am back again with another review, this time for your listening pleasure. I have decided to only do reviews of albums I love and not waste energy hating on any albums, although I have listened to enough crap albums to last me a lifetime! Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin…








Now I have been in love with my fair share of Jos boys but M.I has taken me over the legal limit. This dude GBONO FELE FELE, as in he's too MAD! Some people do not feel see the big deal, and I think if you do not see the hype with Lil wayne or Kanye West, you might not see the big deal with him either. He has that same effortless flow, and it feels like he could do this in his sleep.

Before the drop of this album, he released a (free) mix tape called Illegal music which bagged him the best hip-hop artist at the hiphopworld awards in 2008. He rhymed over the beats of Lil Wayne's A milli, Jay-Z's 99 problems, and Kanye's Cant tell me nothing. What stood out was his take on D'banj's Gbono feli feli which he KILLED and which signaled the arrival of the “short black boy” to the Nigerian music scene. This was the track that made me fall in love with him. With lines like-'the boy got gifts like santa', "girls flock to him in twos like Noah"(sickkkk), "these other rappers so last year like celtel", "your flow is basic and mine is acidc" "i solo like isolo", "nobody wanna try m.i like AIDS test". The whole mixtape is just him showing off his lyrically skills, and for the sceptics, you should listen to this and you will convert. He's confidence in his ability is amazingly intoxicating and I knew he was the shit as soon as I heared this! You can download the mixtape for free @ http://timmynaija.com/bestnigerianmusic.html


If you thought that goodie bag was great foreplay then prepare yourself for the Koko, as the amazing album titled "Lets Talk About It" was finally released. This is hip-hop in white tee and jeans, taking off the pinstripe suits of Naeto C and WFA. Fully Nigerian but with no compromises made, no cheating with borrowed beats and fantastic word twisting guided by the L-Boogie crew of the Chocolate City label. MI has arrived.

The album follows strictly the recipe for the Great Nigerian Album.

We have the great first track, the one so good that you heave a sigh of relief that your artist didn’t disappoint. The track that sets the overall tone of the album; see Nfana Ibaga by Tuface (honest story telling) and Trouble Sleep Wanga Wake Am by Fela (serenading saxophone and politically conscious) for illustration.
His first track is called “Anoti” featuring Gabriel meaninig Unbeatable-- MI goes straight for the erogenous zones, repeatedly reciting his name over muted talking drums, this couldn’t be a more fitting prelude to what was to come. He knows he’s good and has no problem with saying so. He has just the right amount of arrogance needed in hip hop. He turns the beat around and to perfection, molding the kick snares to his lyrics. Fast pace changes with twista-esqe tongue twisters such as:
"I got the magic static/ I got the chrome automatic/ so systematic/ erratic/ flow so melodic/ neurotic chronic/ so supersonic/ bionic "
And sweet sounding words that collapse into one another in mellow fade outs like:
"Feel my vocal/ on this local instrumental/focal point to drive you mental"

The second essential ingredient is the socially conscious song. Our leaders are corrupt; no fuel that sort of thing. MI has a special take on this with "Crowd Mentality" featuring Uche encouraging us to “think, dream and fly.” Its wonderfully poetic and encouraging in that sense, and does not feel preachy at all.
"Fast Money Fast Cars" featuring Wizkid has to be the most fun ever poked at runs girls. It is absolutely hilarious with lines like "She doesn’t need a dude whose bank account is very large/ she wants the man that owns the bank/ the head nigga in charge" "What you driving baby boy/Cause an end of discussion will signal end of discussion/7 series if you serious" "Mike Adenuga types, I need a man to make me Glo". It uses real life Nigerians like Dangote, Keke, D1 etc to illustrate the point. Regarldess of the playfull lyricall wordplay, it has an overlying moral message.

The religious song is here too, in the form of "Jehovah". Self-explanatory.

The third ingredient in this great Nigerian Music cookout- our red pepper and maggi- is the party anthem. MI gives us two, "Area" featuring YQ and my fave "Teaser" featuring Pype which is absolutely amazing, no need for big grammar here. Its slow bashment, with the booms in the right places. Ladies will want to be his “diva for sheeza”

The final touches to this music feast cement MI as the lyrical master that he is with versalicious (yes I just made that word up) tracks like '"Short Black Boy". The beat is amazing and low enough for you to understand that the focus is on the lyrics which he ensures you do not detract from.

"Forever" featuring 2 unkown guys(info wanted) is the only romantically inclined song on the album, with a techno/dance beat that flows nicely.

"Talk About It", featuring Leony is the title track, and plays the line between Ajebotta and Ajepakos- an oldie but a goldie. Kukuruku or Cock-a-doodle-do? You decide! Its higly political but manages not to sound like a sermon either.

"Money" which is the “before I got here track”. This has a skit that flows nicely into it and is one of my fave tracks on the album. With lines like-"I looked at my friends/ and got that itch/ to scratch that cash/ and look that flash" This song embodies what I love about the album. There is NO track where he is bragging about the amount of money he likes. Instead he's chorus sings "Money slow to enter, Money fast to go, Where the money go, I no Know". It is like finding an oasis in the money obsessed Nigeria hip hop scene(need I say Big Boy, Arab money, Maga don pay?). It is a humble track just like he is. He brags about his talent, which he rightly should, but never about material things.

"Blaze" boasts a mouthful of featurettes, i.e Jesse Jagz, Ice Price and Blaise with each artist satisfyingly pulling their weight. You are hooked from the moment “put your lighters in the air” is crooned out, and it makes you really want to light up!! Again this song illustrates another thing I love about the album, he features a HUGE number of FRESH talent. They are all increadibly talented and hold thier own next to M.I which cannot be easy, and I cannot wait to see what they will do individually. With how much he has blown, he could have had any of the hottest artists but decided to bring out some underground acts like he was. The female rapper Blaise rhymes tight on this.

"Safe" featuring Djinee is my fav track in the whole album. Winner of the best rap single at the hip hop awards it is the most lyrically explosive thing I’ve heard since the first time I discovered Nigerians actually can rap. It is a one stop shop of hits, as MI mimics all the biggest singles of 2008. You’ve got everything form Wind Am well To Wiskolo Whiska; You Know My P to Yebaribaba. He utilizes the hit line from all these and more to make one fantastic single.
Yebaribaba sanboribobo/ the ladies going loco/ when they hear his vocals/raps in a chokehold/other rappers local/they rap with a flow colder/I'm the Koko!

With lines like:

can tell it's my time, sorta like a clock
You cant see me yet but am there like your eyebrow
you cheap like salt your type is flodded like sand

I could quote M.I all day but I will exercise restraint. ;-))

My only problem with M.I is that I dont think he sounds as hot when he's featured on other people's tracks. His flows in Dangerous by Dipp or Lade by Djinee are average, definately not up to the stuff on his tracks.
Regardless, this album is one of the best I have heared this year, even in comparison with foreign stuff. The number of skits give the feeling that the whole album is telling a story which all the tracks fitting together like a solved puzzle. You must also applaud his bravery to feature unknown artistes on his album- a gamble that paid off.
Taking over from where 9ice was 400 days ago, MI reigns supreme and in his own words:
"If there’s ever been a rap this fly/it had to have been done by another MI"

You can download to M.I's album on itunes at http://www.apple.com/search/ipoditunes/?q=m.i+talk+about+it and check out his blog at http://www.miishiphop.blogspot.com/



Enjoy
By Miss B and S.B xxx

Letters to a Stranger......

I lovee movies, all genres, both old and new, in any language! Because I am a big supporter of all things Nigerian, I have forced myself to love Nigerian movies, even though its been a painful experience. For every 10 Nollywood movies, you find one that is tolorable, and before you find one that you can enjoy, without fast-forwarding or giving up half-way, you have to watch at least 20! Now when I come across one that I actually enjoy, and can mange to watch more than once, I have to tell the whole world! Letters to a stranger is one of such movies.

Now by global standards, it is mediocre, but I have learnt to only compare Naija films with each other or else you will NEVER get through a single one. Firstly this review is biased because I, like many Nigerians, am DESPERATE for a movie with a little bit of a twist, where we cannot guess the conclusion after the first scene. Also I am a huge fan of Genevieve who stars in this, and never find fault with her acting(this is non-debatable people!). Also Amata movies tend to be a little bit more forward thinking than others.

The movie stars Genevieve Nnaji as a girl torn in between two men, played by Fred Amata and Yemi Blaq(who is rather sexxy). Her character has that air of a lost writer trying to find herself, which is refreshing, and the plot has a nice twist at the end. Her best friend played by Elvina Ibru is quite hilarious and adds a nice touch to the sometimes drawn out conversations(but do people seriously use such big grammer to talk as they do in these movies??). You find yourself torn between both guys as she tries to decide and it has a surprising twist in the end that left me wanting more. The production is also much better than usual.

As with most romantic Nollywood movies, there is no sub-plot, it is all set in a total of 5 locations and the conversation is too complex and sounds rehearsed. It also seems to be sponsored by MTN because the number of inferences cannot be a co-incidence.

Regardless of this, it is refreshingly original for people that have been used to increadibly predictable movies. I would reccommend it for one of those lazy sundays when you are tired of all the ridiculous American series that we are hooked on(does anyone else think gossip girl is getting more and more retarded?).

Available at http://premiumvideos.onlinenigeria.com/ad11.asp?blurb=2178 or at

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeGsW_4hkOk&feature=PlayList&p=B0B42B3DFA3925F9&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=63

Enjoy

Miss B xxx

Reasearching a Potential Boyfriend.........

Hey blogville,

Now this post is for ladies! You know when you meet a great guy, hes sexy, smart and the connection is great. Before you jump into it, I suggest you do a little DIGGING! Now am not saying some stalkerish type scary things, just a little background check before you jump in head first and discover some nasty surprises, by which time its too late, and you find yourself babysitting his kids!!


Now guys, never underestimate how much stuff a determined lady can find on you. Theres nothing hidden under the sun, especially the Niaja Jand sun! A guy once bet that I could never find the name of any of his exes and I found the name of 6! This process has also been aided by the global stalker site-Facebook! People dont realise how much stuff you can find out from there, especially if like me you are good at reading body language!


But this process is an essential. A friend of mine was starting to fall for this guy, but she was a bit sceptical cause she did not know that much about him, and wasnt sure she could trust him. Because I liked the guy, I thought a background check would help reassure her. I called a friend of mine who went to the same uni he had for his undergrad(Kent-this is easy because its mini lagos so pple are not hard to track down). My source assured me that the guy was a sweet guy, and was definately a catch--no kids, no yahoo past, no shady friends, no criminal record, valid visa......you get the drill! My source also referred me to a primary source, who was the guys really close friend and I asked him some random indirect questions, and he checked out clean. With this assurance, my sceptical friend was rest-assured and is with the guy as we speak!


On the other hand, I know a girl who met this guy and fell head over heels in love(shes a romantic) without doing the necessary background check, and found out this boy...........wait for it...........went to jail for fraud for 6mnths! Abeg, dt one is too much, but she is still with the guy because shes "in love", na which kind love be that??


A friend of mine also dated a guy whose ex was PREGNANT for him! But she only found out after she had been dating him for several months. Serious baby-mama drama!


Now these babez, are obviously not blind to the type of guys they are dating, but maybe a little background check might have helped them avoid starting in the first place. Here are some rules to help you research a potential boyfriend-


1.) Always ask him what you want to know first, and then double check just to make sure. i know some people say this shows lack of trust but I say its checking your investment. You dont invest in something with just the sellers word because thay are giving you a modified version to suit thier interest, you have to make sure you are getting the real deal!


2.)Talk to friends you have in common, and if you dont have any, talk to his friends, his siblings or anyone he introduces you to. Its easier to get stuff out of his female friends. But the key is to make it look like random conversation rather than military style interrogation, cause that looks suspicious


3.)the simplest details are what are essential, this adds up to the bigger picture


4.)Tell him anything you find that surprises you or you would like to know about, you definately dont want to be caught out as fishing for info!


6)Finally, once you decide to get into the relationship, TRUST is vital. If you are having to check his phone, email and log into his facebook to delete some friends once you guys have gotten together, then you probably have bigger issues!

Enjoy......xxx
Miss B:-))

CASH OR CREDIT 2......

Part 1 of Cash or Credit below.

PART 2-

9.00pm Saturday night at MacDonald Street on Ikoyi Road.
The temperature had dropped from the searing late thirties heat of the afternoon to cooling early twenties this evening. The wind drifted in consistently, rustling branches and swaying the mango, orange and guava trees that grew abound. Fallen leaves flitted across dirt roads and cluttered streets and the air was cool to the skin and tongue. Balmy breezes ushered in by the Atlantic drifted through the Island enveloping it in soothing euphoria. The swept up salty mists of the ocean harmonized with the citrus undertones sweetening the air, highways and bridges in a beautiful zest.
On streets lit by large halogen lamps hawkers retrieved wares from wooden shelves in market stalls; signaling the end of a work shift. The hustle and bustle of the day had wound down to steady rhythm, fireworks lit up avenues and alley ways with the neon signs of bars, restaurants and clubs as they opened, beckoning Lagosians to unwind and immerse the worries of the week away in laughter, food and live music. All across residential areas children gathered on woven mats for moonlit tales of make-belief and pretend that preach commandments, instill virtues and cement tradition. The youth lay on garden chairs in the verandas promising of days yet to be; ambition and hope alive in their voice. Elders sat across wooden benches and watched time pass by, sipping on palm wine and discussing old loves and renewed passion. A world where animals talked and gods ruled men were brave and women flawless. That world came alive as twilight unfurled….
All beneath a canopy of clear night sky, punctuated with twinkling stars, a night of magic.

It was on this night that Jen fell in love.

Jen stuck out her tongue and tasted the salty air as she soaked in Lagos at night, by no means quiet but compared to the pandemonium of the day much easier to enjoy. Standing at the curb adjacent to the traffic lights, her gaze followed a woman dare-devil cross the intersection in 5-inch kitten heels, all the while chatting on her phone. Wow Jen thought, now that’s a cosmopolitan lady.

Hawkers hawked, their chickens squawked and the party-goers paid no attention or too much
“U dey fear?” asked the elderly woman sat beside Jen on the ground as she fanned the coals of her open fire. In the bright glow her face was much wrinkled especially around the eyes and mouth, her smile lines entrenched deep into her cocoa skin and cheeks that slightly drooped. This was someone that had spent a majority of her life laughing. Jen watched as she carefully and almost religiously spread maize on the fragile wire and hum to her herself. The smell of roasted corn went up like a beacon signal and immediately orders were being shouted out by passers-by
“Mama put ₦20 for me oh”
“Mama Paul I no say na u be that now. U already know how many I want”
“ah ah na that one no be ₦20. I never chop today oh”
The orders seemed to all come at once and in a fascinating mix of Yoruba and English.
The maize lady merely nodded and continued with her separate and roast technique. Jen wondered if she even heard the request amidst customers yelling and shoving naira bills in her face.
“I say u de fear cross road?” The question came again.
“No Ma” Jen responded while pulling out a ₦10 bill- the smell is so delicious she just has to have one.
The old lady accepted it, tucking it into a small fabric pouch of her PDP wrapper and promptly placed small maize on the grill. She looked up at Jen for a minute and patted the large rock next to her.
“Wetin de worries u?” she persisted
Jen sat gingerly down and for reasons unbeknown to her proceeded to explain her impending date with Kabir- in her mix and match Yoruba, ending with the sudden realization that there is no way she could possibly be in his league so why lie to herself
“E ma worry” the woman replied smiling broadly at Jennifer.
“Na man knows wetin e like. Young young girls dey to worry if na for true talk.”
“I understand that but what if I get to really like him and tomorrow he no want me again” Jen answered with her eyes cast to the floor, watching the flames bounce of the almost translucent sand.
“Na tomorrow u go know that one.” The woman simply responded
“But….?”
“Na boy see u”
“Yes”
“E come meet u”
“Yes”
“Ehen now.” Today u knows say he want, tomorrow God go tell you.” And with that she dusted her hands on Yaradua’s face on her wrapper and picking up a cardboard flap with blackened finger-nails resumed fanning her coals to keep the embers burning.
Jen stared at her ready made fairy Godmother as her face was repeatedly cast in light and shadows, her eyes squinted against the sting of the smoke, the relaxed set of her jaw as she easily hummed, and realized that u only live once. Jen continued watch fascinated as she began to bop her head in tune to the music blaring out a car as it crawled by, the driver engaged in a recharge card purchase. This lady was completely content, it might not have been the path she chose for herself but at this moment she was happy doing this, with the breeze on her back and fire in her palms. Jen knew where she wanted to be. She was allowed to make a whimsical decision based on the stars, even if angels and guiding lights sounded stupid. Jumping up she hailed a taxi just as she was handed her corn wrapped in a Thisday newspaper. The woman then pressed a roasted pear into her hands as “jara” and promptly dismissed her with the wave of her free hand.

Jen spoke quickly to the driver “Ikoyi Hotel abeg” without even haggling for a price.
She waited patiently as he too bought two ears of maize- it really was that delicious and fastened her seat belt.
Arriving just in time, Jen paid the taxi man an exorbitant fee and unbuckled her seat belt still smiling; his story of having to battle a crocodile to win his wife’s’ affection had her in hysterics. The warm cab, good story and delicious corn helped to soothe her nervous state. After checking that she had no corn skin stuck between her teeth she emerged out of the taxi a relaxed woman.
As the taxi sped away Jen fiddled with her outfit, the indigo jewel cocktail dress seemed an appropriate ode to her guardian angel- hey bribery works. The string like straps shone against her fair skin, chandelier earrings gleamed from her ears and her neck lay exposed. The sweet-heart neckline cut in at just the right amount of décolletage- leaving just enough to the imagination to make it impossible to swallow. The dress grazed her knees towing the perfect length line and her legs ran for miles before meeting Mary-Jane black heels. Her hair was tousled to perfection with the tips kissing her shoulders in curls, her eyeliner, blusher and foundation were all MAC naturally. Strawberry lip-gloss- no guesses for that reason- completed the look. Now if only she could stop being so nervous, Jen attempted to rub her sweaty palms against her dress the same time the door porter took her extended hand.
“No thank you, I’m oka….” She looked up and into that massive chest and knew it was him. Kabir. She was ready for the effects this time, her throat closed up, her heart began thudding against her rib-cage and her palms began to heat up, once again drying instantly. Jen had no doubt he’d represent tonight, after all Kabir made office wear in season but standing under casting glimmer of the ceiling lights he was a vision in his white Dolce & Gabbana shirt- no cuff links. The salmon pink buttons stood against his chocolate complexion and the dark slacks made her love those narrow hips even more, a brown leather Rolex wristwatch his only accessory- yet here he was in all his glory. Kabir. My God he is beautiful, she could stare at him all day everyday. Her olfactory sense went into overdrive as she breathed in all of him, that unique spicy scent making her mouth water, she had to grip her feet to stay standing.
“You waited for me” Jen gasped
“Of course I did.” Kabir stated. “I couldn’t have anyone whisking you away. I was right to do so too cos u look beautiful. Like all my blessings come true” Kabir leaned in ever so closely and stared into her irises. Raising his hand slowly he caressed her left shoulder, just catching the ends of her hair. Twirling his long fingers around the wispy strands he mouthed you look beautiful.
“You look good too”
“Ah…no u’re a masterpiece. To be with you here tonight, I must have done something right”
Jen began to blush furiously, damn her milky complexion.
“Im really hungry Kabir.” He seemed likely to whisper sweet nothings in the foyer all night, with the concierge listening to every word.

“So u’re into the oriental hmm.” She wishes he would stop looking at her like she was ice-cream. On the other hand she didn’t want him to stop; he made her feel like she was the only person in the world.
They had a staring contest as she allowed herself to be lost in those almond eyes. For a flicker of a second it seemed like they held the power to do damage to her soul. Every time he blinked- which wasn’t often, Jen suddenly felt like she had been shut out of a magical world. She wanted to explore him, understand every little speck and she wanted her heart to be in tune with that bemused expression he wore in the elevator when they first met. The one that made her heart flutter, her lungs expand until it felt like she couldn’t be any happier.
He held her hand in that way that said it belonged there and stared at her as they were led to a non-smoking area of the Thai restaurant.
The head waiter muttered something about specials but Jen was too busy studying the arc of his eye-brows how they were dark and bold, a huge contrast to his pretty almost delicate eyes which were a mixture of vanilla and chocolate with a hint of gold. It was like looking into an angel’s halo, the way it glinted back at her.
Handing the waiter her menu Jen simply nodded to whatever made him so animated and said thank you, Kabir asked for the same and the waiter collected their menus.
This was moving too fast, they met two days ago, spoke for the entire length of Friday but that doesn’t explain this connection, a connection so strong it felt like they are the big picture and not just a part of it. Like everyone was just a guest in their world, a contestant on their island. Guiding lights be damned this isn’t normal, panic set in and Jen began babbling.
“So Orientals huh. I love the east u know, I’ve always wanted to go but I keep putting it off for strange reasons. My friend had this geisha themed room back when we were in college and an actual framed kimono. Not a real one of course –cos those are too expensive but a really good mock up. Even her wardrobe had sliding doors, just like in Kiyoto its amazing with all the bright colors how vibrant the culture is. Isn’t it? I mean I thought that….”
His warm hand grazed the side of her face halting her mid-sentence; she had lost all her air again. Inhaling strongly she breathed him- all of him in. The delicious spice that made her giddy and light-headed. Those light brown fingers traced her cheek bones stopping to rest at her top lip. His long index finger traced her cupids bow and Jennifer purred….he looked at her, she gazed at him. His strawberry lips got closer to her dusty pinks and
“Here is your meal” the waiter announced with a flourish. The heavily scented steam rose up clouding Jen’s vision of Kabir
“For you madam and for you sah” Dropping two plates heaped with noodles and strips of chicken coated in soy sauce onto their table the waiter remained at their sides beaming like he cooked the damn meal himself.
Kabir’s annoyed sigh reached the waiter as he stood at his side, awaiting the taste test.
“I shall come back to see how the meal progressed” and with that he scampered away confused.
Moment ruined. Magic lost. Jennifer stayed very still hoping she and Kabir could just pick up from where they left of. She watched his right hand crawl towards hers on the table and just when it was an inch away the aroma of the food hit her empty tummy. Instinct taking over she dove for her fork and dug in much to Kabir’s delight. He chuckled as he watched her roll heaps of stringy noodles onto her fork; Jennifer made a face at him as she ohhed and ahhed with each bite.

Before the stupid banza waiter showed up it seemed like something magical was about to happen, not a kiss but something deeper. To Kabir it felt like he was about to seal the deal to some unspoken agreement they had brokered as they looked into each others eyes. They had reached a conclusion, about eternity. Oh damn it, the kiss would have explained everything but the Dan iska of a waiter had ruined it all. May 1000 maggots infest his home, and may the lagoon frogs have residence there.
Kabir wasn’t one to enjoy mundane things-like watching someone eat but Jennifer managed to turn it into a seduction session. She bit her lip as she slowly intertwined the noodles in the prongs of the fork and she stared at it the entire way to her mouth, chewing as if to savor each morsel, enticed with each flavor then pouting those lips in an ohhh. Wow he wasn’t even hungry anymore. At least not for heavily spiced noodles…

“If you think staring at me like that is going to put me off my food, then u don’t know me very well” Jen said as she forked a chicken strip into her mouth licking the sauce of her bottom lip in an exaggerated motion
“Ah I would think off no such thing” Kabir smiled
“My people take food seriously” Jen continued
“The only thing Edo people take seriously is their black magic’ Kabir teased
Jennifer laughed. Being Edo but looking half-caste always came with the territory of jazz and being deported from Italy. She found the whole thing hilarious.
“At least we don’t spend our time forming life time friendships with cows” she shot back
“Cows are amazing creatures” Kabir responded in a serious tone
They both collapsed in laughter causing Jen to nearly choke on her food. They passed the rest of the dinner teasing each other, exchanging childhood stories and trading embarrassing events. No talk of exes or bruised egos, for this time and space was theirs alone. No one existed…it didn’t matter. Jen would occasionally respond in cow talk by mooing out syllables explaining to Kabir that she was sure it made him feel comfortable. Kabir would respond by asking how many pregnant flies and lesbian peacocks it would take to cure her delusions, laughing Jen would respond that lesbianism used to be a hobby of hers.

After her meal Jen was full and her cheeks ached from laughing so hard, she was certain her face was bright red and her top lip covered in a light sweat from the heat of her noodles but she never felt more beautiful. Laughing and trading borderline inappropriate jokes with Kabir made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She watched as he arranged the salt and pepper shakers to explain the distance from his hostel to his secondary school girlfriend’s room, an act that got him isolated for two weeks. All because he wanted her to get her vals gift at exactly 1min past midnight. “The funny thing is” Kabir said as Jennifer collapsed in giggles when he explained the part of pretending to be deaf when he was eventually apprehended by the night watch man.
“The funny thing is she dumped me the minute I got out” Kabir bowed his head laughing.
“Awww moo moo moo moo? Moo moo moo moo” Jennifer said sympathetically
Kabir merely shook his head muttering “The women I pick up. Baba will have to fix this one too.”
He sighed “It’s a good thing Edo jazz is so strong”
“See your big head” Jennifer hissed
“Ah! She speaks…..wow, the mere mention of powerful Baba Edo and she speaks”

The waiter brings their dessert and Jennifer proceeds to make love- there’s no other word for it- to the chocolate mousse cake.
Licking whipped cream off her manicured fingers and smiling at him like that, this girl should stop playing with him. Breaking a bit off the triangle she spoons it into her mouth and tilts her head back sighing. Allah help me Kabir sighed, this girl will be my undoing. Keeping her eyes closed she performs his favorite trick and darts her pink tongue over her juicy bottom lip. Kabir exhaled sharply and steeled himself for the oooh that would inevitably be coming next. Oh there it was, moan.
“Jennifer.” He barely whispered
She looked up at him with those dark eyes
“What?” she answered innocently but the sly smile gave her away.
“Here, u have some” and with that she ran a finger across the soft chocolate sprinkles and ran it along his top lip. Kabir opened his mouth but Jennifer just continued to trace and re-trace his top lip. He reached out to bring her finger closer but Jen was faster, she retrieved her finger and placed it on her tongue slowly, never once breaking eye contact.

“Subahanallah” Kabir exclaimed. Jumping out of his chair he whistled to the head waiter to come forward. Gesturing to their empty plates he reached into his suit jacket and dropped a thick wad of ₦1000 notes on the table. This was twice their bill at least, and then some. Before Jennifer could ask if he’d gone insane, Kabir pulls her out of her chair and half-carries, half-drags her out of the very full restaurant. Jennifer hearing his labored breathing was finding it difficult pretending to be upset. The waiters all rushed to their vacant table- some even leaving customers they had previously been attending to and on checking that the ₦1000 notes were consistent all through the bundle, began loud ovations in Kabir’s honor.
“ahh Chairman u do well oh”
“God bless you sah”
“E go better for you”
“Your mama goes enjoy”
“Jesus go bless you times two”
It was completely over the top, the head waiter in particular kept bowing; so embarrassing, the whole restaurant was staring at them. Jennifer loved it!

As they- or rather Kabir stormed outside Jennifer gave up on her righteous indignation; it sounded false to her own ears. Kabir abruptly set her down and exclaimed
“What are you trying to do to me?” His breathing was less labored and he stared at her in a mixture of exasperation and desire. Before Jen could respond, a shimmering reflection of blue caught her eye and she gravitated towards it. Turning left at the entrance hall she approached the swimming pool, the dimmers had been set but the moon reflected in sharp blue water. The tall buildings that housed the hotel rooms of Ikoyi Club flanked the pool, the view to the parking lot was blocked off by large heavily flowered trees; creating semi-privacy. She stared up at the full moon and innumerable twinkling stars and could almost feel the electricity in the air. Jen never heard Kabir walk up behind her but she smelt him long before his warm hands rested on her shoulders. He kissed her hair then her forehead, running his nose along the side of her face, his breathe heavy against her neck. There is no way she smelt half as good as he did…..
Turning her around slowly he muttered “Do u even know what you do to me?”
“I could ask the same thing of you” Jen sighed in response
“Im usually in soo much control, but u bedazzle me” Kabir stared at Jen for a long time after that
“Im going to kiss you now” Kabir whispered. Jennifer’s air caught in her throat.
He leaned in slowly and paused an inch away from her face, Jen thought he’d changed his mind until she noticed the question in his eyes. How could he think she would want anything else, need anything else but his lips against hers?
“Yes” Jen answered and before the last enunciation was slid from her lips Kabir kissed it into the salty air. His kiss was urgent but his lips soft, oh so soft. Jennifer expected an arrhythmia as their tongues danced in each others mouths but she got a lot more. The minute his lips touched hers her heart stopped beating, the electric shock coursed through her veins, jolting her entire system back to life. Her heart beat for him, with his, trumpets roared, horn blared, drums beating to the rhythm of their hearts, a rocket took off somewhere in Kazakhstan. All Jen knew was that she had found her center. This is the kiss that awoke princesses from deep slumber, reversed evil curses, and re-arranged the stars. Kabir was her prince. It couldn’t stop here.
“Jennifer” Kabir breathed as he finally broke for air
“Kabir” she sighed back.
He began to kiss her shoulders- soft, wet kisses- as Jennifer licked the perspiration off his Adam apple. It bobbed up and down as he swallowed furiously. Her eyelashes tickled the length of his neck and his body trembled in response. Sliding the thin straps off her shoulders he began to trail kisses down her to her bosom; Jennifer was two steps ahead of him as she unbuttoned his shirt with unsteady hands. Her fingers spending way too long on each button as Jen’s frazzled nerved struggled to find co-ordination.
Kabir pulled down her dress to waist level, unhooking her strapless black lace bra with a flick of his wrist, he bent his head to lightly graze her pink erect nipples with his teeth. Jennifer arched her damp back even higher and pulled his head tighter to her breast. His name continuously sighed over and over from her lips as he drove her mind and body to the edges of ecstasy. Kabir slid one hand down her narrow fair back and cupped a firm buttock; Jen bit her lip till she drew blood.
There was no need for finesse as she pulled his shirt off his back; she watched the beauty that he was; dark muscles rippling in the moon light. Kabir laid Jen gently on his shirt spread out against the cold concrete floor beside the pool steps. Leaning over her, he hesitated, Jen kissed the question from his lips before there were even uttered- of course she was sure. Reaching into his pocket for a condom Jennifer rolled the rubber over his thick shaft, long, black and hard. Just as perfect, as he was. Kabir her prince. Thrusting into her slowly Jen begged him for more. She wanted all of him in her.
“Not yet, my pet” he whispered.
Holding her head steady Kabir locked eyes with the object of his undoing and painfully kept the bulk of him off her. Angling most of his weight on his elbows he arched his body over hers. Staring in amazement as the pool cast blue shadows over her exquisite face. Those pink lips that tasted just as he thought, her face glistened in sweat. Overcome by desire Kabir crushed his lips to Jen in a ferocious kiss.
Jen pleaded for more and deliciously slowly her prince meted out desire in high doses. The peaks became higher and more furious; Jennifer finally impatient gripped the base end of Him, pulling all of 7 inches into her as she tightened her thighs. Kabir taken by surprise lost his stability and fell onto her, Jen welcomed the weight- after all she wasn’t fragile- the feel of his slick chest on hers, nipples hardened by desire his member filled her completely and Jen purred long and contentedly. Kabir felt paralyzed by the same desire that fuelled him, barely able to move he struggled to contain a growl as Jen began to roll her hips. Their silhouettes cast murky figures on the surface of the pool, as their bodies moved in a rhythm as old as time. Days, months, minutes or hours Jen remained encapsulated in a desire so savage it defied convention. Her back arched higher and higher with each thrust and at the peak her body convulsed, the tremor running through her spine. Jennifer saw heaven.

An hour later they sat in the back of a yellow taxi kissing, touching and pledging eternity to one another. Jennifer knew those eyes now, they were her kingdom. As Kabir walked her to her front door he looked down as those exquisite lips curve into a smile and completely surrendered himself to the force of nature that was this woman. It had been five hours since she stepped out of that taxi, changing his focus, altering his world. Holding her to him, he mused on the few hours they would spend apart till they met up again at Holloway on Monday morning. My beloved she whispered to him…
Up above the planets re-aligned and Jen was matched to Kabir, their souls entwined by The Fates themselves, but as they say in Lagos No Condition is Permanent abi.


To be continued........
By S.B

FORBIDDEN DANCES.....

Again my love for good poetry allows me to come across so many amazing unpublished poets. I will publish poems that I love, and I hope you will love too. This increadibly sexy poem is by my very talented (and horny) friend Mr N.A. He's style of writing is paticularly descriptive, and he has a way of letting you feel the connection with the words and xters. Check out his blog for more like these.(http://www.angonemi.blogspot.com/)
Enjoy.....

FORBIDDEN DANCES
Stop staring at me and just kiss me.
Let me feel your breasts pressed up on my bare chest,
And your tongue playing tag with mine.
Your breath on my face, hot, passionate,
Your chest heaving,
While I run my fingers through the hair on the back of your head,
Pressing your face closer to mine.

I want to get closer...

I can feel you unbuckling my levis..
You can feel me unclasping the hook at the back of your bra,

You can feel me growing harder, pressing against your stomach,
I can feel you pressing me closer, harder, against the wall.

You want me to get closer...

All I can see is pure carnal desire in your eyes,
I want to rip off your secrets,
Put you against the wall,
Press against you,
Feel you,
Experience you,

I want to be inside of you...

You just want me to..
Make your knees buckle..
Make you moan..
Make you sweat..
The room, our own private sauna..



I lay you down on my red silk sheets,
You drag me down on top of you,
Furiously kissing,
like its going out of fashion,
Pulling my pants down,
Strippin your pants off,
Turning the lights down,
Increasing the music..

The soundtrack to our sweet slow sensual rythmic love making

Our rise, our fall,
Your gasp, my groan.
Your legs wrapped around my back,
Arms gripping the sheets,
Back arched, head bent back,
Hair splayed wildly in every direction

I don't care, you don't care...

Every muscle in my toned body tense with anticipation, expectation.
Every jerk, a prelude to our sweet release,
Every sigh, another touch in the right place
On your body,My eyes, focused,
Exploring every curve,
Shades of dark and light,
Where the light bounces off,
Everytime you squirm, and push urself deeper onto me,
Everytime I gasp, and push myself deeper into you...
Our forbidden dance, stripped bare of our mortality.




By N.A

Naija songs TRANSLATED.....

Heyyy blogville,

As I am sure you have noticed I am a massive music lover, but in d past year especially, I have only been listening to Naija songs because dey are just sooo DAMNN HOTT!! I was co-hosting a radio show with the lovely R and R(www.radio.warwick.ac.uk/listen), and we played the club smash Anoti by M.I and but could not figure out what Anoti actually means. And then I noticed that most of the time we actually have nooo freakin clue what these songs actually mean!! But as usually Miss B to the rescue, I have decided to help you de-code and translate the hottest naija songs. So after much calls, txts, googling and yoruba dictionaries, I have broken it down for you all!!!



Anoti by M.I- literally means Undefeatable or Unbeatable(ds took ages of research, just for us to find out he says it at d end of the song!!)



Fokasibe by DJ Zeez-this was clarified by RocNaija, 'Foka' apparently means the four corners of the earth i'e north, south, east & west.. so when he says "Ori yin Fokasibe" it means your name shall be heard in the four corners of the earth..So as against an insult it's actually a prayer(thanks for that)


Yori-yori by Bracket- I think this is just a description of the feeling of falling in love, I think this is the same for Shoobeedoobedoo by Ikechukwu



Yebariba somboribobo by Sauce Kid-Nooo idea what language this is even in, just sumthng abt havin loads of swagga



PuYanga by Tilla Man(p.s ds jamm is hot hot hot!!)- again not sure what language, am guessing it means stop forming/feeling



Gbono feli feli by D'banj -this means am hot basically, hotter dan very hot amala



Pasa pasa by M.P-this literally means very quickly, basically d babe is making his heart and body beat/shave very quickly



Tear Rubber by GXPloits -It means a Virgin(LMAO)



E nu o se by Durella-means people talking bad about you will not harm you etc(yoruba is funny cause 3 words can mean alottttt)



Kamakaze(on a kedro level) by Olu maintain- i actually dont think this has a meaning, am guessin it means we ballin on a higer level etc



N doli doli by H man- It means softly softly, or gradually



Shokori bobo by KC Presh- this defo has NO meaning



Hapuya by Morachi-This literally means 'Leave it', like File/dont touch it



Lori le by X Project-literally means put ur head down, but in this sense means get down on the floor



Adara by Sasha- it will be better



Bosi gbangba by Eldee- come to the open/outside



Jaiye jaiye by Phizzle- someone that likes to enjoy lifee



Kaju Mbe by Blacko Blaze- Remove your eye from there, basically stop lookin at something thats mine



Eye adaba by Asa- this means a white dove



Mobolowowon/Olorun Maje by D'banj-my enemies cannot succeed basically



and of course Gongo Aso by 9ice-- This literally means the talking drum will tell( a story) but in this context means the whole world will know (about me/my success);
although 9ices whole album probably needs translation, cause I dont even get half of it, and I speak Yoruba but we all LOVEE it(esp my Huasa peeps)



And for all the ajebos like me i just found the meaning of -

shayo-alcohol

kpoli/Ganja- weed etc anythng dt gets u high

"a wash put"-jazz a lady puts in food to make a guy fall for her(lool!! i just heard of ds--i know i know, I am an ajebo)

maga- a moomoo

mezebu-sex

ginger-get excited





Of course these are all open to interpretations. But I guess thats d beauty of Naija songs, we all love them, especially when it has a MADD beat even though we have no clue what they on about!!! This probably says alot about the wonder of music in general, that is it transcends language, culture and style. Good music is always recognisable.
What are your interpretations of these songs and are there any you do not know the meaning of?? Let me know!!

Enjoy, xoxo

Miss B.All songs are on Gidi lounge http://music.gidilounge.com/

Rihanna Fierce.......

I am a big celebrity watcher, and I have notice a hugee change in d style of lil Miss rihanna. Esp since the whole Chris brown fiasco, she has come harddd on d outfits, and everytime shes photographed she looks hot hot hot!

Heres a remider of what miss riri used to look like......

Now dt she has vexxed oh, shes lookin more like......

...

I loveeee ds one

Now alot of dese outfits are a bit risque to say d least bt u cant deny dt fact that shes looking increadibly stylish.The hair, the makeup, the sexy scowl, everything just works! So I guess the question is what is it about getting dumped/breaking up/being single dat makes ladies just vexxx and decide to take it out on thier looks?? Could it be to make him jealous or to let the world know you are doing better without them or to attract other people?? What do you think and whats the craziest thing you've done after becoming single??

Miss B,

xoxo

Business in Naij.......

Hello again,
Its L.C here-Hope you have all had a fabulous week so far, mine was alrite details later. Im just glad it is a three day weekend...…I heart bank holidays.

Ok so I have being instructed by our editor in chief to get serious in my articles and stop embarrassing our mission of contradicting the women only talk about relationships stereotype. So today’s article is going to be about a more serious issue on a field I think im averagely knowledgeable about.

ECONOMIC STRATEGIES AND BUSINESS IN NIGERIA!!!!

Or something in that line. So since relocating home as a prospective entrepreneur I have been forced to observe the roads to business success stories most of the successful corporations have taken and their patterns of market entry and sustainability. And its come to my knowledge that starting a business in Nigeria is a pretty easy task, I mean registration of your company can be sorted out within a week(of course with “thank you” packages to the right people) but the daunting task comes with business sustainability. The major draw back being inefficient labour, labour or workmanship is the most difficult asset to access in the Nigerian economy. This scarcity is not based on the lack of academic competencies of the labour force; on the contrary a high percentage Nigerians possesses a minimum of a tertiary education.

This incompetence lies in the everyman for itself mentality most Nigerians possess, or simply put greedy mentality. No one is ready to be patient and understand their craft, they just want to jump ship and move on to the next money making scheme based on popular demand. I was first told about this when I recently came back by the MD/CEO of Ruff and Tumbles (a kids clothing outlet) but as the months progressed I realised just how chronic this problem is . A case in point, I recently went to a popular salon in VI to get my nails done and the Head artist attended to me, the lady was fairly good at her job(albeit over priced) was going on about how she wanted to change to being a make up artist seen as artist like Banke M were making a lot more money than nail artists. And I asked what her boss would do and why she didn’t want to just open her own nail salon instead, and her reply was that the move would help her kill two birds with one stone by reminding her boss she was the one who had the skill and she would be moving to a more popular career line.


To showcase another major problem with Nigerian businesses, lets take the fast food business for our case study. The fast food business is one form of business that sells in Lagos, I mean with the changing culture of married women going to these restaurants to stock up meals to carry their households for the week to the high population of singletons its no wonder it sells so well. However you find up to 8 different fast food cafes just on one high street because the new comers heard how much sales village cottage is making. This is not even the concern because the numbers of commercial banks on these streets have enough staff to patronize these eateries. My concern arises when they all serve the same menu just cause it worked for village cottage. To put it simply Nigerian businesses lack innovation. No one is prepared to take a chance and offer something different. So once a business plan works for a particular company you simply duplicate the same plan with a slight window dressing. That’s why my future plan is to offer the Nigerian society a one stop business advisory firm with business and finance restructuring services…o.k. I digress.

Another problem I have noticed is that Nigerian businesses do not understand the concept of backward or forward integration , as a method of business growth. I work with one of the big audit firms and from the little I have seen from clients accounts they really need to learn to integrate but client confidentiality prevents me from disclosing…oh and what ever happened to the primary and secondary forms of economy in our dear country .The only businesses we participate in are the tertiary ones in the form of white collar corporations. Ok I know secondary ala manufacturing is a daunting task based on electricity issues but what happened to farming and mining on a large scale …an export worthy scale... Nigeria’s only form of income is oil but we have so much more to offer. I was recently teased with a ray of hope when First Bank and UBA announced their provision of loans to farmers, only to find out it was only for farmers with a net capital of 200m…come on now!!!!!!!…how many farmers have that..( in a way though it might encourage production at a high level if the facility is given to only such farmers).

Another I (Miss B) noticed is the printing bussiness. Ovation was the first major lifestyle magazine in Nigeria and he broke the ground for publishing glossy pics of wedding and lifestyles of the rich and famous. I remember the time we used to buy all editions so we can see which fashionable aunt is in and the latest trad styles. Now there are a million and one publications. Now dont get me wrong, am all for competition, but most of them are crap! Full of terrible articles and typo-errors with no content. Although some like True love and Genevieve are world class mags, the market is saturated with cheaper versions of them and you can see that its crippling thier sales. Nigerians always love to go for the cheaper version of things so its hard for them to rely on thier quality to see them through these tough times
There are so many examples of this, there was the pure water phase, the recharge card phase, the private university phase, and now we seem to be in the human hair/musician/make-up artist/wedding planner phase. In other countries they try to better inventions and ideas, and not blindly imitate. Look at the harvard kid that came up with facebook? its not the first social networking site, he just corrected the problems of hi5 and others. the simplest ideas are always the most genius. Dont get me wrong, there are alot of young Nigerians doin creative things, for example my senior in zamani currently has an Apple/ipod store in Cedi plaza in Abuja and is the only one as far as I know. Another is making organic make-up using all natural products, while another friend of mine sells vintage clothing. And theres obviously my role model bella naija. But these are definately the exceptions and not the norm. So the question remains, what can we do to ensure that Nigerians are more innovative?

xoxo
L.C and Miss B

BOOK REVIEW-THE MRS CLUB.......

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen of the blog world, and welcome to my first ever book review for naija daydreamer. I LOVE books, if I get my nose in one I become incognito till the very last page. Losing myself in the authors mind, I befriend his characters as we fight injustice in difficult eras, solve mysteries, witness western showdowns and fall in love. This is my CV but my problem is once I’ve begun a book I can’t stop- no matter how bad it is. It will be so nice to have someone recommend worthwhile books, the ones that reward you with a good read for the time invested. Ta da! Here I am. All the way helping to fluff pillows and settle you down snugly into a good book while also pledging to scream from the roof tops the train wrecks to steer clear of. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin:

The Mrs. Club
Ekene Onu

“You see in the African community, age is definitely not on a woman’s side. When you are about 22, you are put in the front window and are marked for sale. Then when you are about 26, they mark you 50% off, 75% off when you are 28 and then when you are 30, the sign is changed to say: “ALL GOODS MUST GO!”"- Excerpt from the book, “The Mrs Club”.

This book has garnered rave reviews for its bold look at the desperate attempts of Nigerian singletons fast approaching their sell by date- ergo the treacherous thirties to get husbands and attain a pass into the prestigious Mrs. Club. The book is well-suited to the new generation of African women who are career orientated and as such have higher expectations of the men they deserve to settle down with. This topic is wonderfully taken apart and put back together by the help of the three title characters: Titi, Amaka and Mina.

Titi takes the stage as the “tell it like it is” friend and doesn’t believe in calling a spade a big spoon. “I cannot marry down” she repeatedly states. The naughty girl is lived through her as she goes on lavish dates with eligible men, has fantastic sex and does it all in stilettos ala Sex and the City’s’ Samantha.
Amaka is my fav as she plays the romantic, believing that love should be the defining factor. A good girl she never indulges in anything that won’t yield a possible future. Her vulnerability is endearing as she struggles to love her full shaped figure and find a passion for career she entered into because it “was the right thing to do”.
Mina is the only married friend but proves that keeping a husband for appearances is just as exhausting as finding one. So her sex life sucks and he couldn’t find her g-spot with a map. Love be damned is her motto. You have to be smart about these things, it’s all about investing. She is our bitch- enough said. Her French manicured nails are tightly dug into her husband Obinna the surgeon.

The beauty of these characters is that no character is presented as one perfect model, u restrain you from wishing Amaka was a little more like Titi and Mina a little less, well, a little less Mina. The re-current theme of the story tackles cultural schizophrenia as these women hold down professional jobs, “hunt” down husbands, tackle meddling in-laws, appease over bearing parents and attempt to hold down traditional customs. I especially like the part where Amaka adapts moin-moin to serve to an African-American friend by infusing it with coconut milk. Ummmmmm… delish, must try that some time.

My criticisms are few, for one the narrative is not that good. The chapter where Titi goes to the mall is quite abrupt in scene selection. Once you get over the initial blocky start and acquaint yourself with the method of writing hewn for each character (Titi is more colloquial, Amaka more reflective and Mina more…just more) you still feel sometimes yanked out from one scenario and plopped onto another. Mrs. Club focuses more on the banter between its characters and not what position the sun was in when this was said- which I happen to like.
There is a whiff of a lesson to be learnt at the end. Readers who don’t particularly enjoy the pastor saving the day part common in Nollywood movies might roll their eyes here.

All in all for a first time novelist this is very insightful work. Ekene Onu is a thirty something writer and currently resides in Atlanta with her husband and daughter. She began writing a blog naija woman while she was at university in Boston before starting up and editing her own magazine called Nouveau Africana. Mrs. Club is self-published. Ekene got married at 29 and says that the collective sigh of her family members was clearly audible.

This book provides a satisfying read for those that don’t like “too much grammar” and just want a good story with a couple shake head moments, a few oh my! plenty of read out loud to your girlfriends. Mina learns she can’t do it all by herself, Titi the joy of restraint and Amaka finds happiness in the one place she didn’t look. The twists and turns are correctly placed and you never see them coming- just when you thought you knew everything….

Available at the one and only Amazon, go and grab your copy NOW!!!

S.B xxx

3 WEEKS OF ROMANCE OR HORROR.......

Hello blogville,how have u been? Ok just wanted to randomly banter on the 3 weeks of romance concept in naij….or whats called the 3 week diet in some circles. A mate of mine was recently experiencing one of the most extravagant 3 weeks diet I have heard of in a while…and yours truly ripped the benefits of this diet (aka an all you can eat breakfast at le meridian. yes I luv food go hit your head on the wall)….ehem …For all of ya’ll who don’t know what im on about yet im talking about the 3 weeks of wining and dining guys shower women with when they first meet. Just 2 try and convince the ladies to give em some, you know the period before he stops calling you constantly and another dime gets in there..lol
This period comes in all forms and styles..

Some offer you a mix of the occasional meal out with cosy evenings at his place where he shows off his culinary skills and offers body massages ( cough cough). Or you get the swaaggerfied version, of a nite out with his boys with loads of champas flowing . Or the cheap version where you are fed with loads of corny ass cheap heard it on the radio lines…..naij style. But the most extreme and every gyls fantasy because we are greedy like that, is when you get it ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...the nice intimate meals, the nites out ,the cheesy lines with his voice cracking to show how hard it is for him to tell you just how much he is digging you(in his baritone voice that is, consult prior post) the expensive gifts aka CHANEL hand bags and Choo strappy sandals..as well as the butterflies in your tummy feeling .

But what do you do when you have bn treated to all of this and might I add the fella in question is FINEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! As.. then on one of the extravagant nites out with champas ..you head off to the ladies to freshen up your fine self(the sister in question IS hella hella sexy) and you hear a group of ladies talking about some fella who always puts on a show very similar to the one you have bn enjoying these past 3 weeks just to get ladies in bed and how the girls ALWAYS fall for it and after they get with him they always catch a lil sumtin…..sumtin

Girl 1: Oh no b dat boy wen dey stay for water front…
Girl 2 : hen na…the one when dey drive Q7 he dey work for Mobil na
Girl 1 : I know am now ,Me I bn dey jealous ladi when he bin dey chase em till I con hear de kin tin wen he give em..(lolling)
Girl 2: Me as I see am just now they do 4 that girl na the girl me dey peti for.
(insert some Yoruba) then laughter .
Girl 1 : na en good 4 the girl ..no b money he dey find.

Ps: all parties in this conversation look like polished well educated lived abroad for a bit hence I know how to work my MAC make up kinda girls.

EKO O NI BAJE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(Lagos no go spoil)

Tell us your most amazing 3 weeks experiences…

LC signing out xoxo.

Introducing Miss L.C.........

HELLO BLOGVILLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Cant bliv im on here writing ish…im so syked about our prospective love affair….allow me to introduce myself---Miss LC -----from here onwards I will be your guest correspondent on this random ish, joining my best mate to write what will be the coolest blog ever, aka the next bella!!!!

A brief introduction about myself, I love bee almost as much as I love food, I love music and FASHION, im a jand grad who just relocated back to homeland and experiencing/re-adjusting to life in metropolitan Lagos. Let me give a heads up right now of every prospective writer on here im the least literal. Finance is my ish not Literature so no Thisday dreams from this sister…World bank presido maybe..hehehe. I guess im just trying to warn you not to expect any amazing articles..Its more like random banter ...Now that’s settled, down to the post .

I just wanted to share my tots on females and their prospective toasters diction. You know ladies, the way you want your fella to sound when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear in the middle of ish (ya’ll must be thinking ish is my fav word rite? needn’t worry it’s an MI faze)

So for you sisters across shores this particular issue might not necessarily be an issue for you. However for a sister recently relocated to Gidi with a fairly decent diction /accent, I have been approached with all sorts. Fellas feel the certain need to put up fake accents that makes them end up shelling at the end, I mean imagine ijebu/ogbomoso Yoruba trying to be Prince Harry(no offence my Yoruba peeps ….you know I luv my Yoruba fellas…dark chocolate fellas..lol) THAT ISH IS SHA NOT RITE!!!!!!!!!!…

Or the ibo spare parts seller shouting Hey secxy!!!! From his tokunbo range sport thinking that makes up 4 it…SO NOT RITE….Then the Hausas, ill leave that to bee to explain that one seen as she is 1 of them. Anyways this tot came to me today mainly cos my newest fan really shocks me …for a Nigerian trained graduate as per not a jand or yankee grad his diction is actually amazing!!!!..he articulates his words just rite ..ok ok I know the fact that he is Fineee also makes it amazing ..but it is, I mean he uses just the right mixture of high end vocabulary as well as basic terms…which is a welcome relief from the through their nose fake accents unilag grads thro your way.

Anyways what bad diction experiences have you had???? Don’t be shy share we do not judge on here.

Ps: rhythm fm is truly outdoing themselves tonight we have oldies from Wayne wonder to shakadamus and plieRs….if music be the food of life……..

Miss LC signing out..xoxo