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Posts tagged “Valentine’s Day

Love Drops The E-Book/EP Soon Come!

Good morning, beautiful people!

After the release of Saving Dapo last year, a music label reached out to me and requested that I collaborate with one of their artists; a rapper, on a project for Valentine’s Day this year. It was a generous offer; and since it involves me doing two of the things I love to do most – I very well couldn’t refuse. Due to the elections and what nots however – the release has been pushed to March.

Still, we get to have a first look at what the project will feel like here now:

ld-promo a

Thank you! So much! Please share your thoughts!

For regular updates check out the event page on Facebook:

And just in case you didn’t know…



Midweek Fix: The Simplicity of Love

I had the rare privilege of spending quality time with a 10-year old over the last holidays. The Christmas holidays.



Due to a sequence of events, I figured it’d be better if we just stayed home this time and catch up on things. I just wanted to talk with her and fill the gaps in my memory were she was concerned.



Sounded like a plan, right?



And everything went as smoothly as I’d envisioned it – I made sure we stayed in the house most of the time. All the lull and inactivity had given me a false sense of security, so I was understandably unprepared when she suddenly dumped herself in my lap one evening while I was waiting for her mother.



“What kind of water do you like?”



I screwed up my face. This pikin and her weird questions…!



“Clean, fresh water. Why do you ask, darling?”



“Well, mummy always buys bottled water – and the day I wanted to take the ones in sachets, those ones they call ‘pure water’ she was really angry with me.”



“I think that’s because…”



She raised up her hand. “And then some of the other kids at school drink water from the school tap – but mummy says I shouldn’t. I don’t understand.”



I scratched my head. “That’s simple. Water from the tap is different from water in bottles and sachets. The specially-packaged water is usually safer than the ones in taps – and the better the packaging, the safer the water.”



“But you’re not actually sure it’s safer, are you?”



Uh oh, my internal buzzer went off.



“Well – I have not had the privilege of -”



“But you cannot guarantee that it is safer. You only assume it is because it looks as though they take more time to put it in special cases and packs. There’s no evidence that it is safer, is there?”



“Well baby, we have some government regulatory boards that supervise such things -”



“The same government who cannot fix bad roads – or make sure there’s light?”



Gbam. Even I could not defend that one.



Smiling prettily to herself, she got off my lap and looked at me. “I think the people who say ‘bottled water’ or ‘pure water’ do so to confuse other people so that they think there’s something wrong with ordinary water – and have no choice but to come buy theirs.” She nodded wisely and kissed me. “Thank you.”



I sat there, stunned. This girl is way smarter than I was at her age – or even now.



Of course, some of the water are bottled under the best of conditions and therefore are supposedly ‘healthier’ alternatives to ‘tap water’.



But then, we did not always have pure or bottled water. And we were doing quite fine.



And then, as is usually typical for me, something else came to my mind. Isn’t what we adults do concerning love kind of similar to what we do with water?



Because ‘love’ has become a commonplace word, used and abused to fit all kinds of situations (kinda like ‘friend’), we feel a prefix is necessary to make a distinction. Hence the phrase ‘true love’.



And I cannot lie to you. That phrase annoys me like no man’s business.



It annoys me because what the hell does ‘true love’ mean?! Asides from the obvious implication; which is that there’s such a thing as ‘fake love’, isn’t ‘true love’ a mouthful?



As far as I know, love is love. There are certain ways you describe love that are kind of like universal. I think a lot of us; Christian or otherwise, would probably agree with the 1st Corinthians 13: 4 – 7 definition;



“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Now you might have to be specific when detailing the different expressions of love (depending on who the recipient is) – but the above clearly states a general platform which I subscribe to anyways. No matter the relationship, the love has to share those basic qualities else it’s something else I think.



I mean, how we express our feelings most likely differ from person to person and receiver to receiver (I’d have to be all kinds of crazy to even imagine Frenching my mum; EWWW) – but the patience I exhibit with her, the time I take to listen to her and understand what she’s saying is no different to the understanding I have for my spouse. Maybe at differing frequencies – but the underlying thread is the same. Love.



I think we complicate things with labels and titles – kinda like we do with ‘real man’, ‘born-again christian’ and all those others. A line from a classic ad that has me giggling to this day is;



“If e no be Panadol, e no fit be like Panadol.” In other words, it’s either it is or it isn’t.



Courtesy Google

Courtesy Google



And it really is that simple.



What do you think? Is it necessary to separate ‘love’ from ‘true love’?



Please share in the comments! Thank you!

The Point Being…?

Do I love You?!


Give me a moment – allow me kill myself,

Maybe then you’ll see there was never anyone else

Give me a moment; just because you think you can write

Don’t assume you understand the power of my words

Give me time. Let me think of what I need to say

I feel powerless at times; I hate to feel this way

But you’re the one, so I smile and grit my teeth

I hurt you, I’m selfish – but I’m the one you need

Give me a minute. Allow me kill myself,

Maybe then you’ll see you’re…you were all I had left.


Saving Dapo III

Read Episode I here.

Read Episode II here.

SAVING DAPO - Masthead 3



The only reason Dapo wasn’t hung-over that morning was because he ran out of Vodka before he could get drunk.



He cut a pathetic picture as he sat in his room at three-nineteen in the morning, sucking on an empty Vodka bottle. He stuck his tongue out in a vain attempt to catch a drop. After a moment, he threw the bottle away and cocked his head, listening for the shattering sound.



Silence greeted his efforts.



Great. Can’t even break a freaking bottle.



He lay on his side and tried to sleep.



The detachment continued at work.



Despite the loud argument concerning the passing of the gay law, he sat in front of his system – looking but seeing nothing. Even when the topic turned to Man U’s steady declining performance in the Premiership, all his colleagues got from him was a bored shrug.



They left him alone after that.



And he had made some half-hearted attempts to start conversations on Facebook; asking Muyiwa what the latest update about Mope’s wedding was. But after a bit of one-syllable answers the poor boy had given up.



So Dapo sat and stared.



There was work to be done he knew, and he hated the idea of showing up to work drunk – but it seemed that the only way he could get anything done was on automatic.



Just doing. Not thinking.



Yemisi’s face drifted past in his thoughts and he reached out, grabbing and holding onto it. They hadn’t talked since the previous week – only an occasional text message for which he was grateful. As much as he liked her she smothered him sometimes – but she balanced that with knowing when to back off.



A remark from Kazeem effectively jerked him out of his reverie and dumped him back into the office.



“I don’t know what the wahala is with all the banks sef,” Kazeem began, sounding mellow. “As their costumers dey plenty na im dia craze dey multiply. Imagine say I go GT Bank yesterday –“



“Guy…abeg no yab GT o, you hear me?” That was Chidi, a new staff member who hardly spoke. “No just go there o.”



Dapo was amused. “And why should he not yab GT?” he asked.



“Because na the queue e wan complain about and truth which bank no dey get queue these days?”



“But that’s not the only reason, is it Chidi?” Dapo insisted. “You’re not defending GT because…”



“Look ehn, I met my girlfriend on one of those queues,” Chidi said, hands waving at the listeners. “It was sometime last September and it was a really long queue. I was frustrated because I had to send someone money that day and the ATM wasn’t working. I bumped into her, apologized – but then she asked me why I was the one frowning. Before I knew what hit me it was over,” he smiled self-consciously. “Are you happy now?”



The last bit was directed at the grinning Dapo.



“Well, I’m sure Kazeem won’t be complaining about the queue anymore…” he stopped as he looked for but couldn’t find the object of his comment. “Where’s Kazeem?”



“Gone off to GT no doubt,” Biodun, another girl in the office remarked wryly. Chidi chuckled.



The bbzt bzzt sound of his phone vibrating alerted him that he had a message. He pulled it from his pocket and unlocked it, watching as the lit-up screen displayed a name; Yemisi.



I’m almost at your office. Whatever you see or hear, just play along with me.





His fingers flew over the screen of the Samsung Galaxy II as he typed a response. Whatever silly stunt you’re thinking of pulling, don’t try it. I’m not…



“Hey Dapo, madam wants you,” Grace said from the doorway of the office she shared with the boss.



He sighed. “I’ll be right there,” he answered, grimacing as he pushed the green button sending the unfinished message.



“You called?” he said as he opened the door and stepped into the office. He advanced a few steps and froze, surprise halting his feet. Yemisi was seated across the table from his boss, tears streaming down her oval face. She sniffed and waved at him frailly. “Hi cousin,” she said in a watery voice.






“So why did you not tell me you just lost your auntie?” His boss asked, anger coming off her in spite of her modulated voice. “That’s why you’ve been resuming late and making unusual mistakes all week abi? Why did you not just ask for time away?”



Dapo stood there, surprise giving way to humor. Yes, he had lost an aunt recently but no one had liked the grouchy old thing and she hadn’t had any children so they had just buried her in a very private ceremony. He wondered why Yemisi was doing what she was – but he wasn’t interested.



“Look, I’m fine. I just need to chill a bit is all,” he said, the displeasure on his face evident.



“Well, she’s not and you’re the only relative around for her. So here’s what’s going to happen. Get out of here now – and don’t return till Monday morning. That should give you enough time to be fine.”



Yemisi knelt down beside the woman’s desk. “I cannot thank you enough ma…”



“It’s okay. I’m so sorry for your loss. Take care, you hear?” She waved as Yemisi hustled Dapo out of the office. “Dapo, rest o!”



He didn’t answer, instead scowled at Grace who obviously had been eavesdropping. “I’m really sorry my darling. I’ll come over and cook –“



Yemisi shoved herself between them. “I can do all the cooking he needs, thank you.” She said waspishly, startling the other woman into taking an involuntary step back. Dapo swallowed the laughter bubbling in his throat.



“Just let me get my stuff, I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said. Yemisi nodded and sat on the golden brown chaise lounge, playing with her hair. Dapo shook his head and entered his office.



“Madam says you should print out your next week’s client schedule for me so I can handle it,” Grace said as she came up behind him. She ended her movement in a body hug to his back. “Sorry baby,” she crooned.



“Thank you, Grace.” Dapo said as he leaned in front of his computer. His Facebook bar was blinking and so he clicked on it. It was a message from a real-life cousin of his, unlike the one waiting in the lobby. Quickly he scanned the message; it was something about said cousin returning home shortly and waiting to hang out with his baby cousin – baby cousin being Dapo.



Yeah yeah. How much older than me is he anyways?



He was going to type a response and then thought better of it. He logged out of Facebook and quickly sent the client schedule to the printer. Walking over to the machine, he pulled out the paper and handed it to Grace who asked; “Will you be okay?”



The slight tremor in her voice compelled Dapo to run his eyes over her face – her eyes in particular. They looked wettish-red; tears hovering somewhere in their depths. It was a slap in the face for him; realizing the depth of Grace’s feelings.



But she’s married with kids!



“Are you okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.



She sniffed and smiled. “You know I worry about you – and now that I finally know what the problem is I’m just so sad – at the same time relieved.” She smiled in his face. “Go jo, and take care. Have a great weekend.”



He threw his jacket over his shoulder and smiled at her as he exited the office, self-consciously sucking in his belly. This guy is growing in leaps and bounds, he admitted sadly.



Yemisi was looking out of the lobby window when he joined her again. “What took you?” she asked, looking like an over-protective sister. He grabbed her elbow gently, noting how good she looked in a grey-blue blouse and black jeans. She was wearing Converse sneakers.



“I wonder why you insist on hiding your legs – in jeans no less.”



Yemisi was stung. “Because they’re thin!” she cried.



Dapo shook his head. “Sha let’s go, ‘cousin’.”



As they made their way down the stairs out of Dapo’s office, Yemisi walked through the decisions she’d made over the past twenty-four hours in her mind. She hoped Dapo would willingly play along – but she couldn’t be sure. His silence bothered her.



“So what’s this about, Yemisi?” Dapo said suddenly.



14 Days: The 2nd Day



And the 2nd day was.


She is at the airport – MM2 to be exact. She is there to see her boyfriend off.


Off to where?


Well, he is being sent down to Zaria to oversee one training something-or-the-other, and as is the way with ‘slave traders’ he was not informed until Monday, and he is to be gone for two weeks. That sucks, no?


Anyway, she’s dressed casually even though she is supposed to be at work – black off-shoulder blouse, white jeans and a white scarf to complete the ensemble. Her boyfriend is checking in, and she has her arms around herself, watching from beside the airline booths. She’s just…there.


Actually, she is kind of laughing at herself. She’s laughing because; well…two days ago, it was the sudden discovery that Engineer had a wife that set the tone for the week, so to speak. Of course, she had not been prepared to take the woman’s word for it (even though she was pretty certain it was true; Laide had sounded too sincere) and had confronted Engineer with it. He had not bothered to deny it – in fact he was more upset that she’d found out about it than he was about her reaction. She was angry. He should have told her about it and she would have decided what she wanted to do.


As if that hadn’t been bad enough, her boyfriend had called her yesterday to tell her about this sudden trip. She closes her eyes and wishes everything was just back to a week ago; a week ago when she had the choice of three men who to spend 14th with. It would seem as though the choice is made for her.


“Worried much?”


She opens her eyes to find her boyfriend smiling at her. He is the kind of guy you want describe as ‘nice-looking’. She moves close to him and suddenly asks, ‘are you cheating on me?’


He frowns at her. “Now what sort of question is that?”


She nods, agreeing. “What sort of question is that?” she repeats unhappily. “I don’t know, I’m just…” she looks away, and then looks back at him. “I don’t want you to go,” she says.


He grabs her non-too-gently and kisses her soundly. She kisses him back, liking and enjoying the aggression in his kiss. She bites his lower lip gently, and looses herself in his arms. A small cough next to them brings her back to earth, and she gently untangles herself from his arms.


“Slow down, soldier.” she says teasingly, even though she feels depressed. Don’t go, she wants to say. Stay with me! But she keeps smiling and looking him in the eye. He looks troubled, sad even. It suddenly occurs to her that; maybe this guy actually loves her, maybe he actually takes her serious. As it is in the world today, the ‘I love yous’ are just a matter of course; words that really mean nothing. Or maybe they do to him; she wonders.


“Maybe I don’t have to go…” he says, looking forlorn. “I was so looking forward to those two days with you…”
She swallows past a lump in her throat and speaks to him, arms around his shoulders. “Imagine how that would look on your CV. It’s work, baby. Me you’ll always have…this opportunity might not come again for a while…”


He looks at her. “Always?! As in…I’ll always have you…”


She releases him and smacks his shoulder lightly. “Go jo! I knew that was the only thing you will hear. Ashawo!”


They both laugh, regarding each other fondly. And then his flight is announced.


“Boarding for Flight 108 for Abuja, boarding now. Gate 14. Boarding for Flight 108 Dana Airlines, Abuja. Gate 14.”


“Dana Airlines?! Are you…” he interrupts her.


“I’ll be fine. Miss me.”


He kisses her hungrily, and they both feel something different in the way their lips touch. And then he breaks away, and looks at her. “Only you,” he says, looking as serious as a corpse at its burial. “Only you.”


And then he turns and walks away without a backwards glance.




14 Days: The 3rd Day




She felt a bit feverish on the 3rd day.

This is what happened.


She is at work, her head hurting a little bit. It can be that she is coming down with something. But if you ask her like I did, and if she likes you like she does me, she will tell you it has been that way since yesterday. Yesterday; since that woman’s call precisely.


The conversation plays in her mind.


“Hello?” she had picked the call on the second ring. “Hope you did not get in trouble with LASTMA,” she said, really concerned.


“No thank you,” the woman responded, sounding excited again. “You sound very nice.”


She laughs. “Thank you.” And then, a bit hesitantly…”May I know…”


“…who this is?” The woman on the other end of the phone finished. “I’m Laide. Laide Wunmi Adebanjo,” she finished.


The way she said the names implied she expected to be recognized, and somewhere in our ‘her’s’ mind, a dull buzzing had begun; a small warning sound.


“I’m sorry,” ‘she’ said. “But do I know you?”


Laide suddenly sounded unhappy. “No you don’t,” she said. “But you do indirectly. You see, you’re sleeping with my husband.”


‘She’ was shocked. MD’s wife!


But then, she remembered the name she had just heard – and MD’s name was not Ade-anything. “Excuse me? I don’t know…”


Laide interrupted her. “My husband is Wale. You probably call him engineer or something like that.”




“Em, Laide…ma? Can I say something?” She continued talking, not allowing the woman put in a word. “I didn’t know Wale was married. He never told me.” Not that it would have made any difference if he had, she thought bitterly, thinking at that moment of her boss.


“I can believe that,” Laide sounded sad. “I don’t know what he wants again. He takes care of me and the kids – but I want my man. You can’t blame me for that,” Laide said. There was a slight pause, and then “I saw some of your pictures. You’re really beautiful,” she finished.


“Em – thank you ma,” she said, feeling quite bad. “Ma, I’m really sorry…” Laide interrupted her.


“You didn’t know,” she said. “Could you stop calling me ma? That makes me feel…well, old.”


There was a long silence on the phone, a silence of understanding; of empathy.



And then Laide spoke, sounding choked up. “I think…I should be going. You take care, okay?”


She is at work, her head hurting a little bit. It can be that she is coming down with something. But if you ask her like I did, and if she likes you like she does me, she will tell you it has been that way since yesterday. Yesterday; since that woman’s call precisely.


Her phone rings now. She smiles a little, the headache receding a  little. It’s her boyfriend, you see.


“Hey you,” she says, smiling for the first time today.


“Hey you,” he says back, but she can tell there’s something wrong. She suddenly becomes aware of her heart – beating strongly within her chest.


“What is it?” She asks. “What’s wrong?”


“I…” he starts to say – but at that point MTN does their magic and they cannot hear each other anymore. And then, I have to leave. I have to work too, you know.


Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.

14 Days: The 4th Day



The fourth day came…and basically went.



“So we won the tournament,” Chinedu says to a sleepy ‘her’. She lifts up her head groggily to look at him. “That much I figured out by the amount of fireworks that were going off in my neighborhood,” she answers, standing up and stretching. It seems like I sleep around work a lot these days, she thinks.



“It seems like you sleep around work a lot these days,” Chinedu says as he stands up from behind his desk and walks over to hers. “Are you okay?” he asks.



She smiles, a mischievous lifting of her lips. “I’m fine o. Just a bit of stress lately or something.” She pats her head lightly and looks at Chinedu. “You look excited. Is there something going on?”



Chinedu nods. “I bared my mind to Toke over the weekend. And even though she did not say anything – I feel some sort of relief.”



She smiles at him. “That’s the idea – telling them however you feel. They don’t have to respond the way you think they should – “



The door opens and they both look to see it’s the front-desk girl “Oga has returned,” she says with a slightly affected accent.



Our ‘she’ responds. “Thanks, I’ll be right out.”



She smiles at Chinedu. “I just need to clarify some things with him,” she says, jerking her thumb towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”



She walks towards the boss’ office, moving elegantly, heels clicking gently. She smiles at the front-desk girl who smiles back, thinking about how beautiful a smile our ‘she’ has. She can see him from the corridor, he is settling into his seat after removing his jacket. She rounds the corner to his office and knocks.



“Come in,” he says, having looked up to see who it is.


She walks in. “Boss…” she begins but he cuts her short. “You look nice today – but then you always do,” he says, lowering his glasses to leer at her.



She blushes. “Thank you sir, but I have to talk to you.”



He instantly becomes serious. “What is it?” he asks.



She leaves the door and goes to sit in front of him. “Sir, it’s about Obudu. I…I won’t be able to make it.”



He pauses and looks at her from over his spectacles. “And that is because…?”



“Well…sir, I…” he interrupts her.



“I don’t doubt that you’ve made other plans – and I respect that. But this is work, young lady. I don’t think you should be hard put to make up your mind. Should you?”



She hangs her head, though inside she is seething. “No, sir,” she says in between gritted teeth. “No I shouldn’t.”






He looks at his table and picks up a pen, silently dismissing her.



She walks back to her office, really angry. That old goat..!



She opens the door and walks into the room – just as her phone begins ringing. She grabs it – from beside her system and looks at the screen. It’s not a number she knows.



“Hello?” she says politely.



“Hi!” a warm female voice answers excitedly. “How are you doing?” the voice continues.



She can’t help but answer – she even has a smile on her face. “I’m fine – and you?”



The voice sounds a bit subdued. “I’m fine…or I would be if…” there’s a pause, and then the voice continues, now sounding stronger. “I will call you back shortly – I’m driving and there’s this LASTMA guy eying me. I’ll call you. Bye!”



“That’s okay. Hope you don’t get arrested!”



There is an indistinct ‘I hope so too thanks!’ before the caller hangs up. ‘She’ has a smile on her face before asking herself;  ‘what was that all about?’



I don’t know. Do you?