You see, my people! This word called ‘love’
had been given different definitions and
expressed in ways we won’t delve into right
now. It is not certain we could pick up a
dictionary to know what love is. Love is
feeling and so those who wrote or compiled
the dictionary would have had diverse
feelings to give their various definitions.
To you reading this piece, what does love
means to you? Do not try to deceive yourself
of the ‘lust’ you are into right now; many
girlfriends, sugar mummies; many
boyfriends, sugar daddies. Nah! Love is more
than that, more than just mere lust or playing
on others’ feelings.
The caresses of the water spurting out from
the rock, the pressure of it against the rock
and the coolness it gives to the rock are
often amiable and could be seen as the love
between the rock and the water.
The love of mother-nature towards its (most
specifically) human inhabitant are also
laudable. The sun shining brightly but with
intended belligerence in its own stupidity on
the human skin to dazzle it, hurt it or keep it
warm is also one meaning of love.
The love between a mother and a child
cannot be overemphasized. As the mother,
no matter how angry she might be during
the difficult upbringing of a child, would
always love her child even when he/she
steps on her most delicate nerve.
In the beginning of the world, after the first
six days or so, God in his infinite goodness
and total love made Adam and removed Eve
from his ribs – to give man a love that would
never depart from him. Though, God knowing
fully well he was not like man in every nature,
– might not have satisfied man to always be
his love, even when he’ll never stop loving his
own creations.
Perhaps, he knew his supremacy-of-love to
be above what man would require as a close
mate, – and gave him a man of his kind,
which they could both share whatever nature
of love (deceit) with each other.
The type of love exhibited by Adam and Eve,
might have been genuine as the very second
varying type of love after God’s love but if I
were permitted to say it, – was a silly love
(may God forgive me), because Adam being
the first to be created out of them two and
the first to receive instructions against the
forbidden fruit of the tree of bad and evil; –
should not have collected the fruit from his
wife Eve (women sha!). But out of the
genuine love shown in plain
‘mumuciousness’ by Adam, they were both
cursed forever and lost the privilege of God’s
love, even as he hasn’t stop loving them.
If that type of love still exist in the world
today, the world would have been a better
haven of love. The prevalent case is the
opposite, -lust- filled in the world around us
today, full of deceit.
Many young people now interchange or
misinterpret love with lust. The world has
drifted far from the world of true love. I
remember vividly how our parents talked
continuously about the way love was, in their
own time, – though we were not present then
and could not assert how true their stories
might be, but could do nothing than to
accept and believe the world has really
changed. Romeo and Juliet case of love
would be a more clarified and true meaning
of what love should be as compiled in history
and told today. It would be very rare to see a
true and genuine love of such these days.
The type of love clamoured for is that which,
when Boye is about to run bankrupt, Bioye
would stand by him till the very end, – not
one that sees her boyfriend/husband running
into empty ‘can’ (pun not intended), and
leave for another man reigning in affluence at
the spur of that moment.
Adefemi, Zainab, Fatimah, Izuchukwu,
Lazarus, Bola, Kazeem, and other colleagues
the story would bring forth their
characterization seemed to be overwhelmed
by their last day in the Junior Secondary
School not knowing what the future holds for
them (particularly in their Senior School);
their changing feelings from ordinary
friendship into relationships would threaten
not only their performances in academics but
also their life in all facet.
Miss Funmi, and Miss Yemisi, the youth
corps’ love for a boy of 14; – Femi, who was
young in mind and didn’t know what love by
these teachers’ meant.
Mr. John and his colleague, NYSC student-
teachers, would never forget in their life their
experience/s in the Business study class.
These and many other characters and
themes are set on edge if you, my readers
would permit me in my amateurish style of
writing to present them to you as they come
into mind and through inspiration, words of
encouragement, comments, corrections and
constructive criticism (the 3 C’s) as I’m just
learning the trade of being a better and
informed writer. This would also be the first
story I would tell in the eyes-of-god/God
narrative technique or as famously called the
omniscient point of view/narration, so it
might be a bit new to me but I would try to
adjust the little I can in this technique as I
learn more.


The dark cloud hung up in the sky like
mango leaves branches giving shade to the
earth beneath it. Stars all dotted in it to
show, it would not rain anytime soon, no
matter how the weather might want to
manipulate the seasons.
The Obalende road as fondly called could be
seen immediately after the Ikoyi bridge, the
Dordan barracks, – the St. Josephs’ church
gate formerly known to be the State House
gate etched at the left end of the wall. On the
same road at the left ran about a 100 yards
wall of the Ikoyi cemetery, – then breaking it
on its 80th yard was another gate which led
into the Dordan barracks. There stood
mounting security checks on civilians
entering the barracks, some uniformed army
officers in their usual camouflaged outfit
worn on their iron-sole combat shoes
Beside the gate was a transformer caged in
burglary-proof. From the transformer running
back to the tip of the bridge was; mosque
erected against the cemetery wall, people
bending; sitting on the pavement to perform
their ablution for the 8:10pm Isha’a prayers.
Some were setting down their trays of
coconuts; trays of ‘kulikuli’ and big bowls of
‘suya’ with lantern placed in them hurriedly
so as to be in time before the muezzin called
all religious to start the ‘service’.
Refuse were scattered around the refuse
dump kept in place by the Stable Cleansing
Service as though fowls had carried out their
food hunt there. The odour that emanated
from the dump, the stagnant water that
logged in potholes and spilled out of the
drainage were offensive but people who were
used to the environment went about their
activities, some smiling, chewing whatever
was in their mouth as if they were around a
cake factory in V.G.C.
Taking continuous gaze on the right side of
the road were erected structures of different
kinds; bungalows; one storey buildings,
mechanic workshops, and beer parlours with
some 2-3 streets dividing them at a strategic
point. The yellow streetlights could be seen
visibly shinning, rather gloomy to reveal the
different call-girls, call-women, ‘Ashawos’
‘Aturu’ as some tribe would have it, ‘Poros’
as niggas would have them, prostitutes as an
Englishman would rather have them called, in
their mini-skirts; some without p@nts which
was revealing with the way their asses clump
and shake like tick pap. Cleavages showing
in their singlet-like tops, spaghetti, halter-
necks, and tube top, to entice feeble minded
men passing by who took stroll of that area
either to feed their eyes or to exercise their
“Bros come now, I go do you well,” a lady
who appeared to be in her middle twenties,
face very white as though it had been dug in
sack of flour, – magenta lipstick gracing her
lips said pulling the hand of a man that
passed by her. A 5ft 6 man putting on a
faded blue shirt that shone white in the night.
He pulled his hand free and increased his
bearing but what the other ladies in same
profession but in different indecent dresses
with the lady under discussion were
“Foolish man, na church you call this place?”
a lady in a man-like voice asked rhetorically
without expecting any reply.
“E no fit do!” another calabar ‘poro’ said.
“Him Moses rod too small, e be like crayon”
another Idoma prostitute made jest as if she
had examined the man’s J0yst!ck.
Others seemed to mind their businesses as
some could be heard negotiating with their
“How much you go pay if you want all those
styles and I go add love?”

“I no get pass 600naira o,” the man said in
his what could be seen as s*x starved face.
The kind of man that would have gone to an
alcoholic or herb joint for ‘mama 2 shot’ to
make him last long and bang ruthlessly, – a
desperate fellow!
“Shey na free to’to you wan f^ck?” the lady
exclaimed rather offensively “abi this my to’to
na for promo?” she asked practical in a
Benin accent.
The man made to leave as the lady pulled
him back and they went out of light,
incoherent complaints followed their trail.
Outside the famoss guest house were plastic
chairs filled with human butt0ckz; tables
carrying the burden of beer bottles; 33, Star,
Gulder, Small Stout, Malt, plate of pepper
soup, bowl for hand wash on their heads.
The On and Off interval of the decorative light
of small red, blue and green bulbs added life
to the merriment as the song of Blackface
‘Hard life’ blared out of the horror and hollow
sounding speaker.
A short stroll after the guest house was the
unnamed street; the second, – some
distance apart was the Suya Junction. It was
given the name because of the activities
around the place. Nice smoke of ‘roasting’
meat took to the air as the A’bokis added
groundnut oil to the suya or meat placed on
the hot grill. Sweats cascaded down the
sellers’ faces as they wiped with their
shoulder pad, lifting their shoulder to the
“Hey A’boki! Me no go collect that suya for
your hand o. why you let sweat dey fall
inside am na?” a guy complained walking out
of the mallams presence, with curses flying
to catch up with him “Ubanka! Banza ni.”
“Sannu oga madam,” another A’boki
welcomed his customers cutting 2 chunks of
meat called ‘tasting or customer hospitality’,
dipping it in suya-pepper, and placing on a
newspaper table-mat in front of them.
Some A’bokis were raising large suya up so
it could be examined by their customers,
stretching it on the grill to show it worth the
prices they gave. Stalls of various structures
stood with chicken stretched thighs-wide on
sticks; tomatoes and cucumber stuck in
them. Meat-fats and red beaten meat on their
Another part of the road accommodated the
stalls of some A’bokis that made local
sandwich or rather burgers out of Agege
bread, salad leaves, cucumbers, onions,
mayonnaise and fried eggs. Flies hover
around lamps like customers going about
their various shopping. Idle men who didn’t
have money on them but ordinarily taking in
(perceiving) the aroma that rouse the
atmosphere, could get their stomach filled –
walked around aimlessly.
Izuchukwu, a chubby boy of 19; very shy and
timid; had just finished his Junior Secondary
School WAEC(WASSCE) – light skin with
somewhat red eyeballs being the most
attractive feature in his baby-face round
head. He wore a 3-quarter black trousers
beneath his green T-shirt; his stomach
slightly bulging out to reveal his recent
hobby of visiting beer joints.
Izu for short, though not bright in his
academics and through his ‘pick-a-pick’
speech in Igbo accent, one could easily
recognise how dull he would be faring in his
studies, but what he couldn’t make-up for in
his studies were used in his footballing
abilities. Though a bit chubby, it made for
him a perfect advantage to use his body to
attack opponents first before a pass got to
him and then attack the ball with no man
marking, which earned him a quick entry into
the school team in his JSS 1. He didn’t seem
to bother being in the same class with people
of 11, 12, or 13 years of age as he had
people of his age too in same class as to
compare himself with.
Followed closely behind him was Theresa, a
girl of same age and body but with different
colour of the skin. Theresa was ebony ‘black’
with some dark spot all over her body; her
eyelids were appealing to anyone who gazed
at her. She was not a girl who could have
declared intention to represent her state Imo
at any beauty pageant as she was just
beautiful in her own world. Her beauty could
not be compared to quarter of Stella
Damasus neither could her ugliness be
partnered with any beast, but was okay to Izu
who not in his, was handsome but a guy
without a choice. His ‘Boniface’ only gave
him an upper hand to get Theresa as his
Izu was living with his parents in their
makeshift Shop-house apartment A.O 36,
Ilubirin Mechanic Village while Theresa on the
other hand was a maid at the house of her
Aunt’s friend. She got treated like a daughter
and had everything she wanted as her
bosses were rich. Although she didn’t attend
a private school like their children but was
satisfied she was being educated, which
wouldn’t have been the case if she were still
working on the farm at Eshimeshi, Owerri
She wasn’t quite bright but pursued average
unlike her dull-headed boyfriend who cared
less whether he was average or not, so long
he was getting promoted and kicking football
until he gets picked to represent Nigeria or
any foreign base club.
She tried to examine what she wore by
gazing from her sandal and ran her eyes
upward as she walked behind Izu, she wore a
long skirt like a deeper-life parishioner on a
red and white rose flower designed blouse
which covered her medium calabash-size
b0s0m, well packaged in her underwear.
As he took a left turn into the Daniel’s
compound well known to people as a small
and affordable hotel, she wanted to take a
halt as it came to her mind ‘why didn’t I ask
Izu where we were heading?’ but she
hesitated and followed suit, taking her left
turn, “well, he is my boyfriend and wouldn’t
do any harm to me” she soliloquised.
She seemed to be so overwhelmed by the
love he showed her. He was the best ever
she had met because on her first day at
school, Izu had walked up to her and asked
in Igbo what her name was “kedu bu afa gi?”
which she replied “Nkiru.”. From then, their
love adventure had started.
The way he spoke one word at a time like
someone who was going to stutter or
practicing public speaking perhaps, not to
fumble in the presence of his audience, made
her love him so much, – she had affirmed in
her solitude that he couldn’t hurt an ant if he
were given the order to.
Her gaze met people on the left just coming
out of a room sweating profusely and
another man and lady entering hurriedly into
same room as though they’ve not had s*x
some decade’s ago. She imagined the room
still boiling heat, foul odour of sweat, Pour
and K!ttyC@t fluid concoct the unventilated
room, even the fan of it would blow heat due
to continuous thrusting and battle between
s*x organs of both gender.
“I would rather the heat die down and they
sprayed the room with air-freshener” she
thought scornfully as they burst out of the
compound to the Obalende road, Izu already
waiting for her so they could cross to the
other side of the road together. She caught
up with him as they walked two abreast to
cross when no vehicle was in sight. Izu facial
expression conveyed what might be going on
in his mind, – his mission at their destination
which beclouded Theresa’s thoughts.
We hope he can’t hurt an ant as she

To be continued


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