Monday, 13 November 2017

DUDE IN THE CAR (Pt. 1)



I am socially awkward, I have not have mentioned this "little" detail in my previous posts but the truth is, I am extremely shy, the kind of "serious stage fright, get me out of here I don't want to be around people" kind of shyness which I have to no avail tried to shield through forced conversations and silly giggles. I have a few friends, not even amounting to the number of fingers in one hand, it gets so bad that I abhor meeting new people. In fact for me every new meeting is like "hate at first sight"  and this trait is no doubt related to us being overly shielded when we were young which brings me to my story!

At 21, I have never had a relationship as in dated anyone before (man or woman lol!) and there was a time my mom would be really proud of that "achievement" telling me how I and my sister were such decent kids but lately she feels the need to remind me about how I am not getting younger, I should get a dude (she legit says "dude", no jokes!) and how she has to be a Grandma before she turns 50 much to my exasperation.

To make matters worse I seemed to be attracting no "potential suitors" and although I try to shrug it off, convincing myself that I'm still well in my prime, it gets worrying that I don't exactly exude attractiveness, or I don't ooze the right amount of sexuality that girls my age have that apparently call out to good looking "Daddy Fresh" and moneyed men in Lagos.

However on the seemingly uneventful evening of a Friday, I was atop a Bike, while anticipating a weekend of bliss which would be mostly spent on my bed watching cheesy soaps on my Laptop, when I heard the persistent horn of a Car. Initially I thought the honking was for someone else, but that was not the case as I noticed the Car following us closely while flashing lights at us. at that point, I concluded that this was someone I knew.

(Continued in next post)

Thursday, 20 April 2017

AVOID THE 'D' ON A SUNDAY MORNING


This is a story of how I learnt to avoid the 'D' on a Sunday Morning.

So I attended Covenant University (I don't know if I had stated this little detail prior to now) Good school, serene environment, pretty decent (unlike what some bad belle people think). In each halls of residence, the blocks of rooms are known as "wings". There are about 7 wings in each hostels, A-G. Now unfortunately for me, my room happened to be in D wing which brings me to my story.

On this fateful Sunday, I was ready to leave for the 7am first service at the university chapel. The hall was bustling with the kind of rush associated with Sunday mornings, ladies were struggling to leave the hall for fear of being locked in thereby marked absent from service which entailed serious consequences. We had to sign out of the Hostel before leaving for the church service (attendance to all events especially religious ones are really strict in Covenant University). 

After searching fruitlessly for the D wing attendance sheet for about 15 minutes, I figured I should ask around in case someone I didn't know was in possession of  it, so I proceeded to shout at the top of my voice "Please oo where is the 'D'!!!????". (Readers, I swear to you, I said that with no suggestive intentions in mind) but the hall became as silent as a graveyard and all the bustle and rush seemed to come to a stand still.

After an awkward moment of people staring at me with puzzled expressions, someone a coursemate of mine, I'm guessing in an attempt to kill the awkwardness said "ahan Oshokoooooo!!!! You can't be looking for the 'Dee' on a Sunday Morning, One simply doesn't look for the 'D' on a day like this."

Looking back, that was one very funny incident that I can't help but blush at. It happened, and I can tell you that I have learnt not to look for  the 'D' on Sundays-Or any other days at all.

Your Naive Friend,
Peace Oshoko.
This is to all willing viewers, those who I have to force to view and potential viewers of my blog. So based on logistics, (Okay I really have to stop saying that) Based on the fact that I am very open to constructive criticism, I have received from feed-backs from you guys stating that my articles or pieces so to write, are a bit too long for your perusal. Taking this into consideration, I have decided to cut-down on writing long stories to encourage easier reading.
I also want to use this opportunity to thank you guys for sharing in my various stories, thank you for reading and thank you for laughing at me. Cheers!

Your Naive friend,
Peace Oshoko.

Monday, 13 March 2017

A VISIT TO THE MARKETPLACE



I do not like Markets, I do not like them because they are always crowded with people and I’m claustrophobic in nature. I do not like marketplaces particularly because they are noisy as a result of the never ending multitude of women haggling and in haggling; they seem to always feel the need to raise their voices thereby giving me a headache. I detest the marketplace, for the reason that they are messy and they stink, you can literally perceive the foul stench of damaged tomatoes and pepper, frozen food, which are not frozen anymore due to  unstable electricity  and rotten fish {oh and I hate fish too!} Ultimately, from this overview I'm sure I have very well established my abhorrence for the Marketplace and its activities.

As a result of my “Market-Phobia”, I always found a means of escape from my mom when it was time for one of those visits to the market, at times I would feign sleep, other times I would just lock myself up in my room and she would knock on my door till she is weary and mildly frustrated from knocking at a door that won’t open itself, and on some of my defiant and petulant days, I would tell her that I just don’t want to go. Random fact about my mom is that she loves to cook, she’s a caterer and so that kinda explains her love for the kitchen and its’ activities. So with ones’ love for cooking also comes love for shopping for the ingredients to cook with… right???

On this very fateful day, my luck had run out as I happened to be in the car with my mom while coming back from an event, and she decided to stop at the market, “Egbeda Market” precisely to buy food stuff, that day she got me good! All the same I still had to try so I grumbled something about being sleepy, when I said it; I knew that I sounded pathetic, and unbelievable. It was a weak attempt really; Mother saw through my act and just gave me this look, her face full of amusement and told me to “come on! Will I jump out of the car and help her out?” then she added that I better wipe the sleep off because we would still have to cook dinner together.

Our first stop was the dried fish section, as stated earlier, I do not like Fish, they stink so badly and they make your mouth stink as well after eating but all the same we had to shop for some stinky Titus fish! After that we went to the "Eleran" section of the market to purchase Cow meat. As we approached the tables of the men who butchered and sold animals for a living, shouts of "auntie mi!” “Mama!" or "my customer!" filled the air. I was amused because I'm sure my Mom didn't purchase meat from each and every one of them which left me wondering where the show off love and familiarity was really coming from. 

Readers, you know the most fascinating thing about following my mother to the market? I'll tell you, It is all about watching her price Meat or other "price-able stuff'" because I know there are certain stuff you can't price however, the ones you can price, My God! Trust my beloved Mother to cut down prices in half or less than half. It gets so bad to the point where I start to feel sorry for the traders who are trying to make ends meet. After being told that a particular price of meat was 4000 Naira, my mother picked the Slab of Meat up, turned it up and down and scrutinized it with so much disdain, apparently this is another trick used by buyers to tell sellers that their merchandise is not all that and they would rather buy elsewhere thereby causing the seller to reduce the price or give out a discount. 

After the meat inspection, she proceeded to inform the Meat seller that she would not be paying more than 1500 Naira for that piece of Meat, according to her after all, it was all bony, and few flesh. At the mention of that price, I indignantly just exclaimed "Ah Mommy!” Mother glared at me and told me in my local dialect to shut up so that she could get a good bargain, in her words, money wasn't easy to come by and when i had my own family, i should take a cue from her bargaining Prowess.

I was already frustrated about staying too long in the market and then there was also the paranoia that I would smell of stinky fish or meat by the time we were done, so I just wanted her to pay the Man the Money he asked for because we had the money and more. 

I left the Market impressed with my Mom because in-spite of the Meat seller's objections, resistance and in the end, profuse begging, Mother was assertive and unwavering, and consequently we ended up paying 1500 Naira for a big juicy piece of Meat.

I learnt that day Prudence, Resolution and the art of Bargaining from my Mom, and it don't matter the level of your buoyancy, you should still try to cut down prices, because prices are not always what they seem.

Your naive Friend,

Peace Oshoko.
  

COMPLEMENTARY CARD SAGA

Complimentary Card Definition Also known as Business card ( Plural busi-ness cards ) Noun Card with person’s name on it: a s...