Shoot or Dare!

Hold your breath
Hold it very dear
Take insurance
Hold the very next too

Believe none of this ever happened
Close your eyes
Won’t hurt to try your luck
Open them to horror

They say insects fly in tummies
I thought I heard them say butterflies
What then do I feel?
Oh mehn! Dragonflies!

But wait
I really should take it easy you know That drummer-boy in my chest
Would sure need a rest

Beat slowly boy, slowly
Please don’t stop
‘Cause if you do
It all ends

Sweaty pants?
I never wanted those
But who am I to place a qualm?

And yes, there’s this heat
Feels like I have the sun
Tucked right in my pocket
‘Cause I doubt anyone else feels same

But this should end already!
What more would it take?
A cold snuff of life out of this body?
Haa! That’s a better deal
It would happen anyway
So why fret and sustain the torture?

Motivated by death itself
I scream
Shoot me already! Shooot!
What the hell are you waiting for? Shooot!

It all turns quiet
Drummer-boy now beats faster
I hear footsteps inch closer to me
What delight that brings!
Oh, is he really about to shoot?

He comes over
Lifts off my blindfold
Unties me from the pole
And says
You passed your test
Shoot the rest!


Pants Down!

Naked man, fallen bike, two policemen and a dangling penis…

Picture that and then wonder! You wonder how it all comes together, right? I did same too when I saw that scene a few days ago. I had promised I’d write something about it sometime. I guess that time is now.

I imagined I took a walk into the past via a time machine as I kept wondering what had happened. Thank goodness for that divine technology of imagination – it works wonders. I travelled into the past as I had wished. I was walking by the roadside trying to hail the next available bike enroute Ojuelegba. I finally stopped this young man, hopped on his bike feeling lucky. We got to this particular junction only to accost this Police vehicle. On sighting these men, the young man riding the bike, in an attempt to escape being arrested turned the bike around and made away. The policemen came right after us. My heart was in mouth. I had thought of so many possibilities in those milliseconds, the fanciest of them had been a night in prison. What if they thought I’m a thief or something? I asked myself as I frantically shouted in the man’s eardrums in serious panic.

I thought all that drama was to end as they finally caught up with us. I was wrong. The drama had only begun. The Policemen jumped off their pick-up van, cocking up their guns and asked us both to drop from the bike and raise our hands. I was terrified. None of this was like any of the action movies I usually had fun watching. This was real. I was even almost wetting my pants. I soon heard one of them say, pointing at me: “You can go” to my heart’s relief. I ran away so fast just in case they changed their mind. I hid nearby to watch the unfolding scene. I still do not believe what I saw. The bike was pushed to the ground violently by the policemen and in altercation the bike man tore up all his clothing, stripping completely naked to the delight of all passersby. The Policemen were shocked to their marrows. They could not believe their eyes. They had finally met a resolve nastier than theirs. The man had apparently had enough. He was probably going to leave the rest to his dangling penis to do the talking. It was ugly, bizarre, shocking and hilarious all at once.

I looked across the road and there was ‘present-me’ still caught in as much awe as fellow passengers as the bus moved passed the scene.

Look up Enny ‘Dew’s version of the same scenario on
P.s: it’s even better than mine.

Baa mii

Here’s piece after my heart. One I wrote with someone I call my ‘lil daughter’ even though she’s probably only 3 years younger…Enny ‘Dew is what she likes to be called. Enjoy and share if you love your father too…

Atop his laps
I sit
Atop his shoulders
I see

In his arms
I feel safe
In his eyes
I see love

Words said and unsaid
Actions done and undone
It remains crystal clear
A love so unconditional

Beneath his rebuke
Lies a deep sense of care
Beneath his stern looks
Lie even deeper understanding

Whip after Whip
Love is entrenched
Pat after Pat
I am reassured

The extent of his sacrifice is unfathomable
The limits to his affection are unpredictable
I am left in more than wonder
Asking why in blissful ponder

To be upright in my dealings
Those are his teachings
To be steadfast in faith
Those are his preachings

Walking in his steps
I am led aright
Hanging on his wings
To the highest heights, I soar!

He is my pillar
My rock too
With his belief in me
Anything in the world, I sure can do

My Hero
I can’t picture a ‘me’ without him
Jigi mii
Through his eyes, I see the world

I love him so much
I tell him many times
He does that less often
But proves it time after time

Pay him back?
I can’t even try
What I can is hope and pray
That with us, God extends his stay
So I can pay back my love debt, day after day

                               ‘Soof & Enny ‘Dew

Treasure in the Rubble


Take a good look
What is it you see?
What people do
Or what really is?

Hidden in the rubble
It’s mine by stumble
It’s meaningless to me
Or is that what it seems?

Why me, Why this?
I quiz and quiz
Why not one of those?
Were my folks blind when they chose?

The questions are endless
Thoughts flood my mind
They leave me even more clueless
The decision to make is what i must find

What if i just trade this?
This, of whose use I’m oblivious
For that which they say is precious
What if?

The Sun sets for the last time
The trumpet is blown
I shall meet my Lord in no time!
To answer for what it is I chose

Dejected, confused
Before Him I stand
How it is I erred?
I do not understand

I soon realise
How far I was from wise
Choosing the apparent over real
Embracing falsehood over truth

I only thought what glittered was better
I guess I’m now wiser
But its rather too late
How unfortunate!

I wish I took time to know more
About that which was in my bosom
Wiped the dust over the treasure
Bestowed over me by uncommon favour

I wish I lived to cherish it
Devoted my whole life to it
I wish, I wish
I only wish

I can only but pray
That on this straight path the others stay
For the treasure in the rubble
Is one to be kept by all means possible


This piece is specially dedicated to some of the strongest women I’ve met in my life and all the many others out there…


In  the face of turmoil
She holds strong
Above obstacles
She  rises

She has her weaknesses
But all you get to see is strength
She’s got her wounds
But has them all covered

Like diamonds
She lasts
She stands the test of time
And shines brightest

Less talk
But more in thought and action
She knows her onions
And she blends them well

With a calm yet confident mien
And a composure that’s heaven made
She amazes you every minute
Gives you more to take away

She’s worth quite a lot
May be even more than she knows
A precious jewel
With an unfathomable value

Born to look up to none except God
But to be looked up to instead
She gets so little
But gives so much

Nonetheless, she remains undettered
Unphased by all the obstacles
She carries on ever-dogged
She thrives

Remarkable of all
Is the amazing fact
That regardless of everything
She smiles

The tears of the past
Take nothing away from the smiles of the present
The sights of horror
Do not take away the sparkle in her eyes

Call her resilient
Call her a survivor
I think she could have been nothing
Other than a Superwoman

An Eventful Independence Day It was…


It was yet another October 1st, expected to be just like every other – a day when most Nigerians remember the year 1960 when the nation gained independence from her British colonial masters. Parents would tell their children about the immense joy it brought them – the great Giant of Africa was to birth its boom! The relief, hopes, aspirations, dreams, joy that freedom brought had gradually been transformed into misery and disappointment for many. Asides the public holiday that comes with commemorating Oct 1st, Nigerians no longer see a reason to celebrate such a remarkable day in the history of the country and the reasons are all the more obvious. The day is now one to remember the woes of the country gathered over the years and complain endlessly; blaming government and cursing the President. You blame Nigerians? Not really. From antecedents, the nation’s problems had only escalated with every year added – ‘a crawling baby at 53’, many would easily tag Nigeria.

So it was not surprising I woke up grumpy. I was probably initially overwhelmed by all the negativity in the air. Thank goodness, I fought that through. I immediately prepared to set-out, it was one of those rare holidays we have as medical students – we take maximum advantage! I was to attend a ‘Charity Fair’ – an event which expected to host different charitable organizations to an exhibition of their various activities as well as afford them the opportunity to get donations to their causes and network. It was to be another valuable opportunity to lend a hand to The Slum2School Team and meet new people. So, off I went.

It was indeed a very colourful occasion. The air of patriotism was ubiquitous – green and white all the way. The event had begun to surpass my expectations already. It wasn’t long before I came across a particular young chap. In fact, he was so joyful and bold that he came on his wheelchair to meet me. He had hydrocephalus (if you don’t know what condition that is, google is your friend) and that meant he had an unusually big skull. I was instantly charmed by his adorable personality and we got talking. It turned out, his name was Festus and he was 9 years of age. He had come to the fair with his parents who were also exhibiting activities of the foundation they set up in his name to raise awareness about hydrocephalus and spina bifida in children. Festus was so energetic and full of life, he could hardly sit still. I could not but wonder in amazement.

As part of the Slum2School Team, the goal was to get as many people as possible to come over to our stand to make donations or volunteer. I also personally wanted to meet new people and network. I was particularly thrilled by the very fact that there were so many people making the necessary effort to impact the society all in the same hall. Their burning desire to make a difference despite the odds in this country was almost palpable. I was more than delighted. I was able to get talking about Slum2School to a number of guests and I particularly surprised myself by how much I knew about the organisation in so little time. I got some of them over to our stand and it was nice to have them make donations. They were mostly thrilled by the extent of impact made by the team. It was also great spending time with the other volunteers; they all had very interesting personalities.

As it was a Charity event, there were also lots of disadvantaged children around; it was delightful to see how much fun they exude despite the odds. Many of them thrilled the crowd with their entertaining dance moves and gesticulations. They were a sure delight to watch.

Soon after, it was time to go home. I ended the day thinking about what a contrast our independence day had been. This was like none of the previous I had experienced. Rather than join the others who would spend the day complaining and ranting over the ‘Nigerian situation’, I found myself in the midst of a diverse group of young people united by the common belief in this country and hope for a brighter tomorrow. It was more than obvious they were not going to sit and wait till things got better; they wanted to help make things get better themselves. The feeling of reassurance that brings is unquantifiable. There is indeed a light at the end of the tunnel. All we need to do is, open our eyes wide enough to see it and never back down till we reach it. The simple truth is: this country is only as good as we get ourselves. It’s not enough to moan and complain and sit and wait till a miracle happens or a messiah comes to save the day. We can all be our very own Messiah. We are the change this nation seeks.


A Day Out with The Slum King


A visit to Makoko, a slum in Yaba, Lagos births many stories, many of which are from varying perspectives. That community is one riddled with so much decay that you wonder if the area is actually a part of the ‘megacity’ of Lagos. As against the norm, this article is not about the dismal state of affairs in the community, rather, it is about a young man whose attributes I find interesting and inspiring. Stories from Makoko, no matter how multi-faceted, are never complete without the mention of Mr. Otto Orondaam, Founder/Executive Director of Slum2School Africa – a volunteer-based organization which is focused primarily with empowering vulnerable and less-privileged children with the most important tool for their development – Education. The organization was born out of Otto’s passion to make change happen in a community that has even lost faith itself and potentials. A date with destiny had taken him all the way to Makoko for his Youth Service and from there the rest has been blissful history. Call him a revolutionist, epoch-maker, change-agent or child advocate, I just prefer to address him as the ‘Slum King’.


I got the priceless privilege of meeting him recently and got to share a day out on duty with this passionate individual and it was amazing to see for myself how much goodwill he has been able to garner in only about 2 years. Immediately he entered the community, the children went wild, running after him singing: Education! Education! Education is my friend. “Yusuf, this is my home-zone o”, he said, as he grabbed a biscuit from one of the local petty stalls saying to the stall keeper: “How Market na?” meeting a big smile on her face. As he walked along, the children would not stop chorusing, he’d often smile subtly in return, high-fiving the ones he can. He’d also walk past the elders in the community much to their adoration.
He’d greet them respectfully showing positive gesticulations. A man of the people, he had even more goodwill than most politicians would beg for. His rapport with the entire community was undeniable, even the Baale is his pal. In Otto, I saw a lot of sincerity of purpose and drive to do all it takes to achieve goals we all only dream about. He personifies the ideal Nigerian spirit – relentless, dogged, and tenacious to the very core.

Walking behind him, I couldn’t be more inspired, inspired to take those courageous, giant steps to DO something about such a dastardly situation. A situation many have said lots about but easily given up on, a situation even eluding government intervention. His story is one having a lesson for us all – courage, determination, humility, sincerity of purpose, hope, ambition, name it! What’s even more interesting is, the young man is not looking back. He has this unquenchable thirst to do more and more despite his remarkable achievements in so little time. Although, the road to the ‘Universal Primary Education for all by 2015 Millenium Development Goal (MDG)’ is a really long one, the ‘Slum King’ is prepared to lead the chase each step of the way until the finish line.

Check for more info

Ali (R.A) said…


He is Being but not through the phenomenon of coming into being. He exists but  not from non-existence. He is with everything but not by physical nearness. He is different from everything but not by physical separation. He acts but without the accompaniment of movements and instruments. He is the One, only much that there is none whom He keeps company or whom He misses in His absence.

Still my Brush

I think of this
I think of that
He think I’m this
She think I’m that

I smile at her
I turn at him to frown
She thinks I’m fine
He thinks I’m down

In changing phases
I surprise myself
In narrow time spaces
I could shelf my old self

I want things anew
But I miss the status quo
I crave for change
While I also want to keep the duo

Life never really ends its conflicts
Old versus new
Change versus clichés
Are greater than World war II

But then, I think
Who really gets satisfied in the end
You or me?
Him or her?

If I change for her,
What would he think?
If my smile turns to frown
Of what good would it be?

I would then realise
What matters is the portrait I paint
In the end
It’s still my brush