Monday Humor: I Did A Bad Thing And I’m Not Remorseful!


You see this job of mine, it requires a lot of moving around. I am constantly prospecting and so I never stay in one place. Imagine someone like me, who is content to just sit indoors and read for days, becoming such a “crayfish” on the daily!

I don’t have a car. That means I spend half of my working hours jumping from bus to keke, bus to Okada (motorbike) or bus to bus. Sometimes I get fed up and just trek if I’m familiar with the environment. Don’t be surprised if you one day see me walking down your road like a soldier on the way to battle, with my earphones on(probably listening to hiphop or rap) and my steps very long. Hehe. I’m just saying.

So, like I was saying before I deviated, I am paid to waka waka on a daily basis. Its much more than that but let me not bore you with details. I have learnt how to deal with all kinds of people on the street. To be honest, the streets are strict, man. You need a sixth and seventh sense to outsmart the people you will meet there. A notorious breed are the drivers and conductors. These guys are the kings of the streets! Without them, the vast majority of carless Lagosians would be left helpless. They know this, and they are quick to remind anyone of it. Some days, one could be lucky not to come across anyone of them that would wear your nerves down to the last thread. But lets be real. If you go a day using Lagos public transport, and you are not shoved, insulted or at the very least, treated shoddily by them (especially the conductors! 😤) then you better offer sacrifices to amadioha when you get home. I kid, I kid.

That was how I entered this danfo  bus oh. Omo, it seems the conductor’s wife beat him up that morning because he was in such a sour mood. When I wanted to enter, he insulted me for being too slow. When I entered, he insulted the guy beside me for giving him a 500 naira note for a trip of 100 naira. When I was to get down, he insulted me and my ancestors for not remembering to yell out my bus stop because I was “pressing phone”. I alighted, feeling too tired to care. There was no traffic but my buttocks were tired of the hard wooden bus seats. Then I realized something. I was still holding my 100 naira note and the bus had sped off!


The conductor had insulted away his payment! I would have felt bad on a different day but that day, I was happy. Kai! You can’t imagine how happy I was. I immediately hailed the FanMilk guy on his bicycle and bought my SuperYogo tetrapak. (Yo, If you grew up in Lagos and you don’t know Superyogo, tell your parents to go and buy you a real childhood). I felt no remorse whatsoever. In fact, that was the best tasting yogurt I had had in a veeeeeery long time.

Nonsense and ingredients!

Happy Easter dear friends. As Jesus rose, that is how every good thing that had died in your life will start to rise now now now. Kiakia, ozigbo ozigbo! No be play o. Believe Jesus, and believe me. 😁. Ngwa, my nsala soup haff done. Eees time toh go. Till my next post, Have a stupendously  splendid week ahead! Kizzez!

Sincerely, Chibugo

My pipu, have you heard of the Woman and her Ink writing challenge by Access bank? I entered for it and I need you all to vote for me. Every time you share my article on social media, you earn me points. Epp my ministry by sharing my article on your social media platforms. Head over to the website and read it. There are a lot of articles on there. Its really amazing. Knock yourself out! You can read mine and vote here!  Tainkiu!

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Monday Humor: Town Union Meeting!


Just when I thought the worst would happen, i. e, I would have to hang my head and say “No Monday Humor Post Today”, Mother narrated an event to me that made me laugh and almost fall off my chair.

If you’re Igbo, living in a town that isn’t your hometown, you’re probably aware of the periodic town union meetings that we do have. Its not just an Igbo thing, I see even tribes from the South-South with similar dress doing their thing on Saturdays or Sundays. Its usually a simple affair in most cases, but there a variety of activities that some unions include in their agenda to spice things up a bit. Now, my townsmen and women hold their meetings in different locations and the men really have no dress code; they are all most likely to wear one traditional dress or the other. But the women! They compete so much with each other that they have to be given a dress code to adhere to strictly. Anyway, that’s not the reason for today’s post. Usually, at the last meeting of the year, they carry out what we call “bring and share”, whereby everyone brings a different food item ranging from simple western snacks, to the most complicated traditional foods.

It happened that at the close of meeting last year, they had agreed to meet as usual, bringing all the goodies. Now, know this: Mother is one of the greatest cooks when it comes to traditional food, and in my honest opinion, her meals are unrivalled. *Time was, when she was the CEO of a small but quite popular restaurant in the commercial area of Yaba, but that’s a story for another day*. At this annual event, Mother was sure to outshine everyone with her culinary prowess, and in her words, she would rather be late to the meeting and pay a fine, than present a substandard contribution. Nah, today’s laugh isn’t on Mother.

The Chair lady of the Women’s wing of our Town Union is what I would describe as a woman of great Charisma. She speaks, and everyone automatically keeps quiet to hear what she has to say. At this meeting, they had only gone quarter of the meeting when a foul smell permeated the hall. “Who did that?!” Chairlady bellowed. “Why can’t we just control ourselves? Please excuse us if you need to relieve yourself and stop polluting this environment. I won’t repeat this warning”. The meeting went on in relative peace before the wind brought in another wave of the putrid smell. It threatened to scatter the meeting because the intensity was three times stronger. She gave out the warning a second time, adding that a penalty would be imposed on the culprit, since she had refused to behave like an adult. The third time the smell hit, the meeting was already about to end and refreshments served. It was so intense that Chairlady had to ask if there was an exposed gutter around the area because the smell had gone beyond a human fart. She investigated but there was none. As she came back into the hall, everywhere was silent, with murmurs going on here and there. The refreshments were being served, but something was amiss. Eyes pointed at her accusingly, and the smell was there, fully present, and with no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Turns out it was actually the food contribution she brought that had threatened to smell them out of the place. She had prepared a meal of  “Abacha na Ugba” an Igbo delicacy made from sliced cassava and fermented and sliced oil beans. Now, Ugba has a tendency to smell, and in fact, I do not know her method of preparation, but it seemed she had prepared it before going to church and stored it in a cooler. She had probably come back from church and simply packed the cooler to the meeting without checking its contents, but, I guess a second phase of fermentation had taken place because the cooler was really airtight and it had been in there for so long. Another member of the meeting had probably come in and on keeping her contribution on the food table, managed to mistakenly tilt the cover of Chairlady’s cooler, hence the “brain-damaging aroma”. To hear Mother tell it(she’s a natural clown so its possible she overdid it), this is probably how her facial expression was when she found out she was the cause of the confusion all along: AWKWARD!!! LOLuncomf

I felt sorry for Chairlady. What a way to end a meeting. Mother outdid herself, of course. Kidney beans porridge…yum. She was the star of the day, that’s not to say she won’t have her day here too. Lol. Have a fab week ahead.

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Be My Valentine, Will You? Yes, you.

The only problem I have with Valentine’s day is the fact that many people do not really know what they celebrate.9568333-happy-birthday-beautiful-young-black-girl-sitting-on-the-floor-at-home-with-a-big-smile-holding-a-wr-stock-photo

Ask a random person what Valentine means to him or her and observe the response and you’ll know I’m not far from the truth.So many memes and jokes have been made around this singular event, and I’m not surprised that many have gotten into trouble they didn’t bargain for, all because of Falantine.

I have not the strength to begin narrating the history of Saint Valentine and how he died for the sake of preserving true love in the sanctity of marriage, but if you’re interested, you can read it up  here.

I’m sure you all are probably already sick of reading different things about Val’s day, but one more wouldn’t hurt, eh? What does Valentine’s day mean to you? A day to get cards and chocolate and red teddy bears? A day for a random hook-up? A day to go out, party and get weisted? A day to visit the motherless babies’ home or an orphanage or some other charity home to show “love”? A day to do something special for boo/bae (married/in a relationship)? I am not here to discredit any of these choices, but the concept of love should not be an occasional practice. In fact, left to me, EVERYDAY SHOULD BE VALENTINE’S DAY!

Some may argue that to married couples it should be a day of renewal of marriage promises but I beg to differ. If a man is a wife beater or a woman is a lousy homemaker, will it suddenly change for the sake of Valentine’s day? Of course not. Why do we even have to wait for val’s day to share gifts? To take boo/bae out to somewhere special? To visit a charity home? To renew our wedding vows? If you are a Christian, then I’m here to tell you that you have been called specifically to practice love everyday. That was the point of Father Valentine’s death, wasn’t it? That was the whole point of Jesus death on the cross, right? Since you claim to be Christ-like, you can’t save all that love for February 14th, boo. You’ve gotta share the love every blessed day. In fact, personally, a gift or an act of kindness given/shown to me on a random day carries more weight in my eyes than whatever someone does for me “for the sake of Val’s day”. I believe then, (and you should too) that:

  1. You do not have to be in a relationship to celebrate Valentine’s day.
  2. You should not feel bad if you do not have a boo/bae during this period. You didn’t have one before, so why should it matter so much now? Suck it up and stop having crowd mentality. Not everything you see on Instagram is as it appears.
  3. Give yourself a standard of love. Challenge yourself to do an act of random kindness everyday; if not everyday then every week. Direct it all round: your spouse, a neighbour whom you normally ignore on a daily basis, your extended family, a random stranger, your friends. When you open your hands to give that love, you’ll be surprised at the overflow that will come into those same hands because they’re already open. 
  4. You do not have to be in a relationship to celebrate Valentine’s day. Did I say that before? Oh well, I’m saying it again.

Romance is all great, but even the married people will tell you that the bed of roses called marriage has its own share of hidden thorns, and the wounds caused by these thorns are healed through the action of deliberate love. Loving people even when its terribly hard. That’s what Valentine is about. Renew those vows everyday and watch things change. Make it a daily affair and you’ll never have cause to lack true love in and around you. It helps that this year, Val’s day fell during lent. I think the Lord is trying to tell us all something. Lol.

May your cup of love overflow from now…. Okay let me make a small concession. Oya chop kiss:


“…Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto Me” – Jesus

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉



From this….

Olajumoke the bread seller walking into the shoot

To this….. 😀

Olajumoke… Now the subject of a shoot!

Can you tell that I’m really excited putting up this post? It’s about 4 days late but the message behind it is never late.

I follow T. Y. Bello on Instagram and on Sunday she put up a series of posts about this grass to grace story of a young lady called Jumoke. Now, Tinie Tempah was in Lagos for a shoot, and ace photographer T. Y. Bello decided on a street themed shoot for him. While the shoot was going on, an Agege bread seller happened to walk by and even as she was trying to walk fast out of the scene of the shoot, T. Y. Bello urged her to be slower so she could capture the presence of the Agege bread seller. To her, she was simply adding some spice to the photo, trying her darnedest to capture the essence of “the real Lagos”; little did she know that she had just discovered a diamond in the midst of dirt.

Fast-forward to the publication of the shoot. Everyone kept asking: who is the model beside Tinie? Is she a Nigerian? Why isn’t she popular already.? She’s a natural! Boom! A star had been born. T. Y. Bello instigated a search on social media for this Agege bread seller who had photo-bombed her way into everyone’s heart, and of course, she was found. (The power of social media!)

Meanwhile, Jumoke our Agege bread seller had continued with her business of selling hot bread on the streets of Yaba. The day of the shoot was just another day with a weird occurrence. But alas! Going along and minding her business, she was one day presented with her own photo by someone(a customer, I presume) who had stumbled upon the picture on Facebook. Jumoke coincidentally happened to be wearing the very same dress she wore on the day of the shoot, and so she was easily spotted.

She was taken to the studio where T. Y. Bello’s intuition was confirmed. The girl was a natural model. Her short curly hair extensions were removed by top hairstylist Zuby to reveal a beautiful short afro, while she was given an amazing makeover by Internationally known makeup artist, Bimpe Onakoya.

Know this: Jumoke is a 27 year old mother of two, who left her sliding door-installer husband in Ire, Osun state with her five year old child due to hard times to come to Lagos with her 14-month old baby and try to make a living, hawking bread from a relative’s bakery.  Her dream is to be a hairstylist and to one day act in a Yoruba movie. She speaks little English but communicates fluently in Yoruba. Currently, as a result of the buzz she generated from the shoot, Jumoke is now close to starting an internship at Make me Salon and has been offered an additional internship at Sari’s signature, a famous Lebanese salon on the Island.

To pay Jumoke her first model fee from her first gig in front of the camera, she was paid exactly what a top Nigerian model would be paid. She’s been offered a modelling contract with the help of Godson Ukagbu from FEW Models. She has also had Pay Porte reach out to her to be a model on their next billboard campaign. A mentor of T. Y ‘s has offered to foot the bill for her accommodation, education, as well as her child’s, making it possible for her to be reunited to her husband and older child.

Just as T. Y. Bello concluded, it may seem accidental but it’s definitely divine. This event was definitely a miracle. You can follow her on Instagram @tybello to read the whole story and get its details.Screenshot_2016-02-11-18-45-05.png

Now, here are a few things I learned from this event:

1.You may have a dream but lack the resources to make it come through at the moment. This is no excuse to relax and become lazy, relying only on dreams. Jumoke knew she had to make a move to at least survive. That was why she came to Lagos. Survival is the key to staying alive long enough to sustain and achieve your dream. Do something! You never know, that next step you take might be your breakthrough.

2. Make a move to survive and sustain your dream but remain legit! Jumoke sold bread. How much does the average bread seller earn daily.? It can’t be more than what some of us pay for a bowl of coldstone ice cream. Yet she wasn’t tempted to dabble in less noble trades*if you get what I mean*.

3. Above all, be true to yourself. This particular lesson I learnt from Bello herself. That woman has been my role model for as long as I can remember and I’m glad it’s so. Remember her from her days in KUSH together with Lara George and the third lady whose name I can’t remember? Their song,”Come let’s live together” still packs a powerful message today.

Head on to Instagram to get the full gist. You’ll be glad you did.

This “Falantine” breeze is blowing hard oh. Hmm. See you in my next post… Really soon.

Kisses, hugs and kuli kuli,

Sincerely, Chibugo.

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Monday Humor – Pride Cometh Before A Fall

How are you doing? I have been a lazy blogger, I know. I can even see some weeds growing around this space due to neglect. Nor vex. You know, this blogging sumtin is not easy fa. I will be (or at least try to be) a more frequent poster from now on. Also, feel free to subscribe to my mailing list so that you get an email alert each time a new post comes up. It’s on the right tab, you can’t miss it. Tainkiu.11615503-laughing-out-loud-emoticon-stock-vector-smiley-face-cartoon1

Now permit me to take y’all back, way back into time. I’m talking about more than a dozen years ago, give or take. Now it so happens that this girl called Chibugo was moved from primary three at her private Catholic mission school to a different school, where due to her high IQ *cough cough*, she was made to skip a class. It so happens that from that class (primary five), she managed to pass the NCEE with good grades such that at 9, she was admitted into a renowned Catholic Secondary School.

Chibugo was one day sent to pick up little Kano, her brother, from her former primary school. Now, know this: Chibugo’s former classmates were all either in primary four, five or six, and she happened to be the only one who was already a “big” girl in secondary school. She got ready, putting on decent clothes, combing her hair and putting on her spanking new watch, and went to the school. On getting to the school, she came across most of her classmates most of whom looked with envy at her because she was now a secondary school girl, but she paid them no mind. It would have been a wonderfully perfect story if one of her perpetually “hembarrazing” situations did not decide to come up that very day. *facepalm*

As she walked out of the school with Kano’s little hand in hers, talking to her former class crush Ari, who was now two years her junior, the most unexpected happened. A stone happened to be in her path but a swelled head, plus the presence of her former classmates fawning over her new status (and envying her sparkling new watch), plus her crush walking beside her, were sufficient to blind her to it, such that she had a fall AS GREAT AS THAT OF HUMPTY DUMPTY! Her crush helped her up, old friends cleaned her up, but her pride was never the same. It had just received a thorough beating. It was battered to tatters, in fact. She has since learnt her lesson, believe me. Pride went before this fall, literally.

I still have the mark from that fall on my elbow. The memory remains very vivid. I hope this post gave you a good laugh, or at least brought you a smile to help de-stress the week a bit. Even as the “Falantine”  breeze is blowing all over the place, have a Fanta-bulous and Coke-astic week ahead!!! See you in my next post!

Kisses, hugs, and kulikuli,


90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Monday Humor : No Monday Humor post today

piqkdl7i9Y’all know I type and publish most of my posts on the go right? My job is one that involves a lot of walkabout to meet people and a lot of talk talk to convince folks. That’s not the gist for today. In fact, there will be no Monday Humor post today. I’m not even close to that mood.

That’s how I was jejely going on my own o, to see client 1. The conductor said “wole pelu change yen oo!” As I did not have change, will I now come and go and kee  mysef away? I entered and the Bobo collected my 500 note and refused to give me change. As if I was the only one that gave him 500. When it was my time to alight, I did, and the mischievous man flung 400 Naira at me and his driver zoomed off before I could say “Otapiapia”. The 50 Naira was actually not the problem, only that I had planned my itinerary such that I was with the exact amount of money it would take me to get to all my locations. Chai.

I Sha moved on to like nothing happened even though I was pained by it. Taking people’s money makes one a thief, and no one likes to be stolen from. *long hiss*

As if that was not enough, enroute my penultimate location, I had to board a bike. I asked the aboki mallam if he knew the place and he said yes. Ngwanu, we were going on our way to the kain location when we had to enter a road through a corner. Due to the harmattan dust, a woman was wetting the roads with water and she had overdone it in some areas as they were quite waterlogged already. Oga Okadaman decided it was the very same place that was waterlogged that he would pass. “Igbagadam!” That was how we both fell in a pool of black water. I was already seeing red at this point and I know that of I had opened my mouth to say anything, I might have wounded someone with my words. The water-pourer woman was there too and I honestly felt a slap coming out of my hand if I didn’t check myself. She brought the same water and my aboki mallam, apologizing profusely in a mix of broken English and Hausa, proceeded to clean up most of the mess that was on me actually, since it seems my left leg broke the fall of his bike. I just remained mute and allowed him do his thing.  That was how all my baffing up this morning was in vain. Smh

I was hoping that would be the end of the series of unfortunate events that wanted to welcome me into February, but lo! Aboki mallam didn’t actually know where he was taking me to! After we went in what seemed like unending circles and asked about 3 people for directions to no avail, I gently asked oga Okada to drop me so I could find my way myself. I eventually did and successfully completed my business in that area. I had to go home straight. The pains from  my “accident”  are only just getting to me and before I finish this rant, at least let me have something beneficial to give to you: some advice. If you’re going anywhere by bike, ensure that the person taking you actually understood what you said and knows the way to your destination.

Imagine me, going out this first morning of February with a smile on my face and a spring in my steps, only to return with mud-spattered sneakers and looking generally frazzled and smelly. Everything and anything that tries to tamper with our joy this February ehn, Fayaaaaa!!!

Have a great week, friends. I hope your day goes better than mine did.

Body nor be firewood – Nigerian proverb

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Drunk on Petrichor

The rains have come! Hopefully the heat is over.  I’m happy, but not very. Even though I was born in the middle of the rainy season, I don’t like rain. The roads will soon become a nightmare. If you live in Lagos, you should understand what I mean. But hot damn! I love the smell that comes after the first rain! Thankfully my job at the moment lets me wake up later that the majority of Lagos’ workforce, so immediately I saw that it was raining, I did my kumbaya dance(it looks like this)


and promptly dived back into bed. Hours later, the rains have stopped and I have to go out. I am supposed to take a bike to my bus stop before i board a vehicle, but I do not even know when I arrive there on foot. I’m drunk on petrichor. That’s what Oxford dictionary tells me it is called.

The pleasant smell that often accompanies the first rain after a period of dry weather has a significance for me, as do many other things which I choose to place significance upon. It is a sign of hope to me. As the plants have had to do without water for months now, but suddenly receive what they have been thirsting for, I know that the dreams and aspirations I thirst for are valid and will one day be watered.

Everything suddenly seems to take on a new vibrance of color, a brand new shade of green, like a preparation for something big just round the corner. And so I’m also preparing myself. I am afterall, part of nature. Go out there and breathe it in. Remind yourself that it is a sign of beautiful things to come.

Petrichor. It is like poetry.:-)

P. S: I really do not know what got into me, but whatever it was, it made me start typing this post on the go. Enjoy it, *I hope*

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

Monday Humor : Pepper soup!

The witches from my village said there would be no Monday Humor post today, but Jesus said no. Here we are finally. It’s been a very hectic day at work for me, I apologize for the late post. Thank God for mobile devices, as I’m actually typing on the go. So whether you’re on the way home from work, class, or already relaxed at home, here’s one for you.

Kembu my big sister got married a couple years ago and during their honeymoon months, her and her husband made it a point of duty to try out all the restaurants in their new neighborhood. Turns out there was this pepper soup joint that they had been hearing about from friends for a long time. So they decided to hang out there one night.

Kembu made her order and her hubby decided to listen to the band first before making his order. After a few spoons of the soup, she complained. “these people want to kill somebody with pepper oh!  Haba”! Her eyes were already beginning to water and her nose was running freely. To which her hubby absently replied,” you just don’t know how to eat peppersoup. You’re not supposed to be taking a sweet drink with it. Stop complaining joor”. Kembu looked at him and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Just negodu this guy saying she doesn’t know how to eat peppersoup! She who qualifies as a master peppersoup eater! Chai!

In full retaliation gear now, she asked him sweetly, “won’t you make your order dear?”, and he did. It only took one spoon to remove his entire attention from the band.  He was sputtering all over the place. “Blood of Jesus!”  He yelled, looking around and rubbing his head in shock as his mouth hung open. “Kembu, is this what you’ve been eating all this time? Are you human at all”? Seeing her expressionless face, he directed his anger elsewhere. His eyes were already tearing up and his nose was running. After just one spoon. Chai! Their peppery dinner was left untouched as they left the restaurant in a haste.

In the car, he continued his tirade at the management of the place. As they reversed and got into the main road, he realized how silent Kembu was. He looked over at her, and in the dark interior of the car, all he could see were her eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. She maintained a straight face and replied drily: “You just don’t know how to eat pepper. Stop complaining joor”. He shook his head, remembering that he used the same sentence few minutes ago. It was his turn to be confused as to whether to laugh or cry.

Revenge is sweet 😀

As any wife or husband knows, it(marriage) requires a whole lot of love and an unflappable sense of humor. – Kristine Solomon.

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉

It’s about time.

This evening, as I walked the streets of Lagos, amid the rush and stampede of people trying to get home as fast as possible, I glanced around and realized something. I am just one person in the midst of millions others. My epiphany didn’t stop there. I realized I want to live. Not just exist, but really live and make a difference in society. And so i’m here hunched over my computer at midnight, resolved to start. Start doing what? You may ask. I’m not very sure yet, but it will pan out with time, and I intend to start here. So watch this space, because the journey will be worth it. Enjoy the ride.

90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉