A Real Problem Kid.

  Tomorrow, January 25, 2024, will mark a year since I was served my biggest humiliating experience. I had promised to take it to the grave, but after several panic attacks, I decided to share it here on this faceless forum, where at least my dignity and pride won't be tainted. Anything for my self-healing and self-forgiveness. Tomorrow, brethren would make it 365 days since a 23-year-old Di-Okpara Mmadu (firstborn son) was disgracefully bounced out of a wedding party by some Obalende-Floyd-Mayweather in the presence of over 689 people, excluding women and children. Tomorrow, people of God will mark one oscillation of the sun since I stopped worshiping at Winners Chapel Morroco Road branch, where the praise session always ends with this song, "Everything Nah Double Double." I decided to work the talk instead; double the hustle instead". Even though evidence of the "Doubled Hustle" might not really be glaring now, at least the eye-doubling hunger that mad

  Since I came packed into my new apartment in Ebutte-meta, I have had these "evangelists from hell," posing as neighbors, who the devil, in collaboration with my ever-plentiful in wickedness village people, commissioned with 70-cm shovels to uproot the fibers of my destiny.   I can't really give a detailed account of how myself and these guys rose to the point of being "paddies," but one thing I can still very much recall is the event that joined me in unholy matrimony with these guys. One of them had knocked at my door one hot Sunday afternoon to ask that I borrow him my water fetcher (Guga, as Hausas call it), and innocently, without hesitation, I did. As far as my 1860-degree voltage brain can recall, I guess this is the only sin I committed: lending that guy my property and, most importantly, forgetting that "Nah from clap dem take dey enter dance."   And it was the lending of this fetcher that led to "Boss how far" and "Chairma

  Some weeks ago, or would I say about a month ago, I met this very old friend, sorry, God forbid, someone I used to know back years ago after the closing of a church service at Salvation Ministries Ikotun. Jesse, the notoriously deep-rooted criminal back in 2008–2013, during those days in Birnin Gwari, Kaduna State, shaking hands with brethren after a church service. The very popular "Gaze and Shoot," as he was nicknamed back then, known for his unique style of stealing, which I have since then only seen exemplified by the way Erling Haaland steals away goals from Premier League defenders. It was said that once this guy, Jesse, gazes at any of your valuables back then, forget it; it's history. Once his eye catches sight of any of your fascinating treasures, the next place that treasure would be located would be on his left hand, because not only does he steal, he flaunts as well. And I guess that killed his stealing career. Because, of course, if not for how he flaunts

  So I decided to leave home and come down to Lagos, just 3 months after my NYSC passing out parade, and after the living conditions at home were becoming too unfavorable, unresideable, and too stressful.   The "This boy, go and hustle" type of look my mom was already giving me and the "May God remove this kind of reproach" cough my mom was giving me already indicated that I was entitled to less than 32 "Mummy, thank you" in that house. The "And this is useless, elder brother, we were placing the hope of an iPhone on" gaze by my younger ones and the "We can't keep shouldering your responsibility" type of fatherly advice my dad was steadily dropping was already giving me a clue of how impossible it would be to live in that house until I found my foot. It is as impossible as residing within the borders of Israel and Gaza without digesting one or two missiles or riffles. Even though no one was yet to outrightly tell me (of course,

  Every other thing, group, or sect in Lagos might be overhyped, but trust me, LASTMA is not even getting the flowers it deserves. Lagos is normally that place where they would hype and hype Zinolessky until a Gen-Z music fan began to think that the semi-average artist is far better than the legendary Oriental Brothers in the east and Zango M Kataf in the north. The way Lagosians would glorify the extent of bad roads and slurs in Ajegunle, people living in Ohafia, Umuahia, and Aba areas of Abia State might almost want to write an appreciation to their ex-governors, Theodore Orji and Okezie Ikpeazu. The way they would hype the level of taxation in Mushin and Oshodi, the ones living in the U.K., Canada, the U.S.A., and other parts of Europe where the real taxes are paid, might even start sending them condolences. Typical Lagosians They overhype everything about themselves. But please, whenever a Lagosian or resident of Lagos talks about or hypes the ruthlessness of the infamous LASTMA,

  Seriously, I still can’t tell whether it was plain stupidity or whether I really got overconfident, especially after gulping and using this "anointing oil" to cook and bathe for the past six days, just as recommended by the guest prophet my church brought from Maiduguri to minister in our recent Youth Convention. It might also be a ploy and spell by my unforgiving village people to get back at me after I had refused to send the so-called monthly contribution for community development for the past six months. Until this very moment of this post, I’m still feverishly asking myself whether it was 1X Bet that sponsored the audacity that made me want to play this gamble with an active member of Lagos's most dreaded people: bus conductors. Not just any gamble, even, but an entirely senseless, irrational, and impossible gamble. A gamble no one in Lagos has ever won Imagine placing an odd of over 4.5, over 3.5, over 1.5, or even a straight win on a finished team like Chelsea