I could have loved you


I could have loved you
But the stars aligned
To place two imperfect strangers
In a perfect ship of relation

I could have wanted you
I rem’ber days when
Our bodies tangled
Desired each other
But I could have wanted you
If our bodies had a mind

I could have needed you
But just as the sun rises in the East
And sets in the West
So did my feelings

I could have kissed you
But I heard tales of your poisoned lips
Sweet as Velvet tamarind
With death’s lurking sting.


Photo credit: http://masetv.com/being-confused-allows-you-to-grow-maturity-through-uncertainty/

Greg, Liz and My Saturday Bliss

It was a very sunny Saturday afternoon. I had just finished having brunch and decided to go do some shopping at Mandillas market. I boarded a bus from Sabo Yaba to Obalende. As I sat in the bus, all I could think of was how unfit the bus was, even for animal transportation. The seats were tattered and in ruins, exposing the metallic frames; the floor was a cake of thick dirt; the air in the bus reeked of exhaust fumes emanating from the rear of the bus. I sat in the front seat, close to the driver who had placed an extra make-shift seat beside his for an extra passenger. 
Before he embarked on the journey, he had asked me to use the seat belt. The seat belt was detached at the tip. When I complained to the driver, he asked me to either wrap the strap around my body and hold the tip in place or alight from his bus. I chose the first option because I was in a hurry. 
When we got to Obalende, I boarded a rickshaw heading to Mandillas market. I sat at the back of the rickshaw, between two other people – a man to my left and a lady to my right. This was where the best part of my afternoon began.
The man was an elderly man. He shouldn’t be more than sixty years old. He was more of fifty five years old. The lady to my right was young. She looked twenty five. When we got to the traffic light at CMS junction which just turned red, the man spotted another fellow he seemed to recognize walking on the pavement. He screamed the fellow’s name. The fellow turned around, saw the man and ran to our rickshaw.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the fellow greeted.
“Afternoon my dear. How are you?” the man responded.
“Fine sir. We didn’t see you at the club again sir.”
“Ah yes. I left after a while.”
“I hope we will see you again next week?”
“Of course.”
“Alright sir. I must be on my way now sir.”
“Alright. Bye bye.”
The fellow departed just as the traffic light turned green. Not long after the fellow left, the lady to my right said, “What club were you guys talking about?”
When I heard that question, I assumed the lady was trying to strike a conversation. The atmosphere in the rickshaw had been quiet and dull before the meeting of the elderly man and the fellow at the CMS traffic light junction. It was only fair that someone livened up the atmosphere. The elderly man appeared not to have heard the lady’s question. He politely asked her to repeat her question.
“The guy you just talked to – what club were you guys talking about?” The lady repeated, a sound of seriousness in her voice. 
I tried turning to her to see how serious she was, but I felt doing that would be awkward. So I sat still and tried looking at her with the corner of my eyes. Her face looked serious. She was serious about the question.
“Ikoyi Club,” the man answered.
“Will you take me there?” the lady asked, with that sound of seriousness still in her voice.
“Umm,” the elderly man stuttered, taken a little aback with the lady’s request. “Umm. The Ikoyi Club does not operate on Saturdays. They operate on Fridays.”
At this point, I felt like contributing to the discussion. After all, I was sitting in their middle and I was not a human communication conduit pipe. I had a mouth which functioned. I felt like asking the lady if she was aware she just asked a stranger whom she had just met for the first time that afternoon to take her to a club. But before I could speak, I heard the girl say, “Aww, that is so sad. I want to go to a club today but I don’t know which to go to. I am new here.”
“There are a lot of nice clubs on the Island,” the elderly man said. “Umm, there is Quilox…”
“Where is that?” 
“Victoria Island, near the law school.”
“I don’t know it. Any other one? I heard there’s one called Four Points,” the lady said. “Where is that?”
On hearing this question, I inaudibly said to myself “Four Points? Four Points by Sheraton? A club? Odiegwu.” 
Maybe there was a club at the Sheraton hotel that I did not know of. Maybe. So I put on my garment of ignorance and gave the lady the benefit of doubt.
The elderly man answered, “oh Four Points? That one is close to the first Lekki toll gate.” 
“I don’t know where that is.”
“It is after Mobil,” the elderly man said, breaking the silence.
“Still don’t know where that is.”
“Umm. How do I describe it?” the elderly man said to himself.
 As he was thinking of how to describe the place, the lady said, “Don’t worry. I will like to try that Ikoyi Club. When next are you going there? I will like to join you.”
Just like that?
At this point, I felt like screaming “are you frigging kidding me right now? Is the hustle that serious?

The guy riding the rickshaw turned back to catch a glimpse of the lady. It appeared he too was shocked at her hustle game. He kept alternating between focusing on his path and stealing glances at the lady. He kept turning his head.
“I am going there next week Friday,” the elderly man said.
“Let me have you number. I would like to call you to remind you I will be going with you to the club next week,” the lady said, passing her Samsung Galaxy phone to the elderly man to key in his number.
Are you serious?!!!!!! I said to myself in my head.
The elderly man collected the phone and inserted his number. Then he passed it back to the girl. I just sat quietly between them, pretending not to be aware of whatever was happening around me.
“How do I save your name?” the girl asked.
“Greg what?” 
“Just save it as Greg Ikoyi Club.”
“Alright. I am calling you right away so you can have my number too.”
“Okay. Oh, your call just came in. How do I save your name?”
The elderly man brought out his phone. It was a Nokia torchlight phone. 
I heard myself speaking inaudibly to myself “An Ikoyi club member using a torchlight phone? This babe has entered one chance.”
“Elizabeth what?” The elderly man asked.
“Just save it as Elizabeth Ajah or Elizabeth Lekki.”
At this point, I heard myself laughing out loud in my head. Elizabeth Ajah or Elizabeth Lekki? An Elizabeth who lived in Ajah or Lekki, yet who did not know where Lekki first tollgate was? I felt like saying to the lady, “my dear, you could not even lie to save your hustling game,” but before I could say that, I heard the elderly man say, “I love that name Elizabeth. It is beautiful just like you.”
The lady smiled. I could see her smile from the corner of my eye. 
“I will stop here,” the man said to the rickshaw rider.
The rickshaw rider  halted and the elderly man alighted. He paid his fare and that of the lady. I thought he had forgotten I was in the rickshaw with them and also deserved to have my fare paid too, but I remembered it was not I whose number was obtained. It was not I who would accompany the elderly man to Ikoyi Club next week. It was not I whose body and dignity would pay dearly for the fare. 
“Thank you,” the lady said. The elderly man smiled and walked away. 

As the rickshaw rider took myself and the lady to Mandillas, I could not stop thinking about the elderly man’s wife and children at home and what a reponsible husband and father they thought he was.

Who is the perfect boyfriend?

black happy couple

The perfect boyfriend is not one who gives his girl the world. The perfect boyfriend is not one who catches a grenade for his girl. The perfect boyfriend is not one who lays his life down for his girl. The perfect boyfriend is not one who takes his girl to the moon and back.


Because none of the above is humanly possible. They are all figments of the imaginations of romance writers who have forced these lines on us over decades of literature consumption. They are mere clichés.

Who, then is the perfect boyfriend?

The perfect boyfriend is one who does the simplest things in amazing ways.

The perfect boyfriend sends his girl genuine romantic texts everyday. The perfect boyfriend surprises his girl with gifts (no matter how little) for no reason at all. The perfect boyfriend accompanies his girl to the beauty salon. The perfect boyfriend shops for groceries with his girl. The perfect boyfriend helps his girl out in the kitchen. Scratch that. The perfect boyfriend cooks with his girl in the kitchen. The perfect boyfriend leaves “Thank you” notes in his girl’s bag for whatever reason every now and then. The perfect boyfriend makes sure he has enough spare shirts and shorts at his place just in case his girl pops in and she did not come with any extra clothes. The perfect boyfriend maintains a clean, safe and hygienic living environment because he knows he is not a pig and his girl is not a maid who does the cleaning. The perfect boyfriend knows how to spoon his girl without breaking a sweat or breaking her neck. The perfect boyfriend knows how to kiss his girl without smearing her makeup or eating her lips. The perfect boyfriend does not secretly check his girl’s text messages because he knows he is not an FBI undercover agent seeking evidence to use against a crime suspect. The perfect boyfriend understands his girl needs her space sometimes. The perfect boyfriend reassures his girl at every given opportunity that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. The perfect boyfriend never makes a joke out of his girl’s insecurities. The perfect boyfriend does not slide into other girls’ DMs. The perfect boyfriend knows by heart, his girl’s shoe size, bra size, dress size, foundation type, lipstick make, powder brand, sanitary pad brand, hair relaxer type and shampoo brand. The perfect boyfriend does not just orally encourage his girl to follow her dreams or pursue her passion, but he advises, guides and supports her so she does not falter. The perfect boyfriend is not blunt with the truth if it will do more harm than good to his girl. No, the perfect boyfriend does not lie to his girl either. The perfect boyfriend tells the truth to his girl in a way she will be able to comprehend it.

Above all these, the perfect boyfriend prays for his girl every day.

Photo credit: 36ng.com.ng


The Random Girl

young man on call“Salaam-Alaikum!”

“Wrong number.”


“Wrong number.”


“Wrong number.”

That must have been the one millionth time he would be saluting me over the phone. And each time he did, I would respectfully tell him he had got the wrong number. But no, his call would wake me up by 3:00am the next day and all he had to say was Salaam-Alaikum.


It was a hectic day at work; Femi and my humble self had just attended an exhausting meeting with a demanding client and we were on our way back to the office when Femi decided to conduct a quick transaction at the Bank. Femi was our Senior Account Officer and he needed to pay the contractors who had come to do some structural adjustments to our office space the other day. Whilst he proceeded to the banking hall at the third floor to make the transfer to the contractor’s account, I waited patiently for him in the banking hall downstairs. This particular hall was designed for low scale transactions. And as was usually the case, this hall was crowded. Tellers sat at their respective counters, attending to all and sundry.

As I sat in my seat, I could not help but notice the faces of everyone who came into the bank. Each face told a tale. Some were tales of expectations, others were tales of frustration. Then I saw this particular young, beautiful female face which bore both tales. I could see the young face wanted something and the face was sad that it did not get what it wanted. It was such a disheartening sight. I could have sworn it was the most beautiful, sad female face I had ever seen, but that would be a lie because I have a girlfriend who is the most beautiful woman in the world and I have seen her sad a few times. So yes, this particular face was beautiful and sad on this day – just like my girl’s on a few occasions. And my God, she was shapely too!

So, what does a busyless young man who was sitting in a crowded banking hall do with a sad beautiful face that reminded him of his girl? Brighten her up.

The lie I told myself for deciding to hit on another woman: help brighten her up.


She is sad and the only reason God put you on this earth is to come be her saviour and help relieve her of her sadness. When you were formed in your mother’s womb, God already knew that, a day would come when you would meet a young sad woman in a banking hall and it would be your God-ordained duty to make her happy.


So, I stood up from my seat and started approaching my God-ordained target. She had just been attended to by the Teller at the counter and apparently, he gave her some bad news. Maybe she wanted to make some withdrawals from her account but she did not have sufficient balance. God forbid that this was the reason for her sadness. I did not have a kobo to spare on a random stranger, irrespective of her beauty and shape.

Before I could make my way through the crowd to where she was standing, she had already made her way out of the banking hall and into the street.

Do I go after her? What if Femi finishes with his transaction upstairs and cannot find me?

Prior to today, it had been eons since I last chased after a random girl in public. What do I say to her?

Hi. I saw you a while ago and I like you. I think you look like Esther in the Bible …Can I have your number?

Please “Epp” me.

Just like that?

Well, today was the day I found out if I still had it in me. The thing about staying faithful in a committed relationship is that you begin to lose your “market” ratings.

So, I decided to go after this young beautiful woman. The closer I got to her, the farther she walked. She turned into the next street, and then the one after that and the one after that. I walked some distance behind her, buying time and calculating what I would say when I met her. I did not want to come out as some stalker – which obviously I was fast becoming.

She walked into a “business centre” complex. I waited at the gate of the complex, my head bowed, thinking my game was up. There was no way I would walk into the business centre with her, to start my silly misguided chat. Not with the crowd of people that were likely to be at the centre.

As I pondered over what could have been, I saw her walk right out of the business centre and headed for the gate where I stood. This was my chance.

As she got to the gate, I decided to be the man my father thought I was and stopped her in her tracks.

“Hi,” I said in my most upper-class accent.

She looked at me with puzzled eyes.

“Sorry for doing this,” I said, licking my upper lip. There was something about licking one’s upper lip when talking, especially if one is a guy. I had heard girls find it attractive. “I saw you in the banking hall a while ago and I thought that …umm…”

“You were at the bank?”

“Umm, yeah.” I said, smiling sheepishly.

“And you followed me here?”

The smile drained from my face.

“Before I could walk up to you in the banking hall, you had already left,” I said, a little flustered. “Umm, hi, I am Michael. I noticed you in the banking hall and there was this part of me which longed to talk to you.”

I waited for her aggressive and cold response. Even I was not convinced by my own pick-up line. It sounded jaded and off-point.

There was this part of me which longed to talk to you? That should be the worst pick up line she had ever heard.

To my surprise, she smiled at my attempt at being cool. She smiled beautifully. She smiled beautifully at me.

I smiled back.

“A part of you longed to talk to me?” she re-echoed with dimpled cheeks. Her dimples were flawless.


“What part of you is that?”

“My heart. My heart longed to talk to you.”

“Wow,” she said, almost inaudibly. I could see she was impressed. “And you came all this way…”

“To talk to you,” I completed her statement, squinting my eyes. Sexy as mad. “But I can see you are somewhat in a hurry… If you don’t mind, I would like to have your number so I can tell you later in the day, what my heart has got to say.”

The guts.

I could not believe I had just asked for her number. I, who was in a committed relationship, had just hit on a random woman and asked for her number.

“Oh, umm,” she stuttered. “Umm, okay. Can I have your phone?”

I gave her my phone and she keyed in her digits.

“And…. you will be?” I asked.

“Christabel. Christabel Ugo.”

“Christabel Ugo, right. You looked a little disturbed at the banking hall…”

“Yes, I wanted to pay my tuition fees but I was told my school did not have an account with the Bank. I just got an admission into the National Open University and I have to pay my fees today as today is the deadline.”

“Oh, so what are you going to do now?”

“I came to the business centre to get some information from the school website about another Bank…”

“Ah, I see. Any luck?”

“Yes, fortunately for me, the school has an account with another bank just down this road. I must really be on my way now.”

“Oh yes, you must. Thank you for your time and I’ll give you a call…”

“My phone is switched off at the moment..”

“I’ll call later.”

And with that, the second most beautiful female face I had seen walked away.

As I rushed back to the bank, I tried to dial Christabel’s number so it could be stored on my phone call log. I would save the number later.

Just as I dialled the call icon, I lost network connection on my phone for a split second. That split second proved to be costly as, my phone did not store the call attempt in the call log. The hairs on my neck stood, my face became red and I started sweating. All my efforts had just gone with the wind.

But I would not give up so easily. I decided to go around the street, searching for any bank. I saw a few and quickly scanned their banking halls but Christabel was not in any. After about twenty minutes without success, I gave up and headed back to the bank where Femi was already waiting for me in the car at the car park just in front of the bank.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I came out to use the bank’s ATM but it was not dispensing cash, so I decided to use another bank’s just down the road,” I answered as I searched for “Christabel Ugo” on Facebook with my phone.

The ease with which we lie.

“Oh. I was about lodging a “missing person” report,” Femi teased.

I smiled.

My face smiled. My heart did not.

Just as Femi made to put the gear in reverse mode, I spotted Christabel in the side mirror, walking past our car. In that split moment, I told Femi I had just spotted an old friend of mine from college and would like to speak with her. Before he could respond, I alighted from the car and rushed towards Christabel.

“Christabel!” I called from behind. She turned around.

“Hey,” she said.

“Sorry I did not save your number when you gave it to me…If you don’t mind…”

Before I completed that, she reached out for my phone and gave me her number again. I dialled it this time around to make sure it was stored in my phone’s call log.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll ring you.”

With that, we went our separate ways again.


Back at the office, I could not wait to share my interesting story with some of the guys. But just before then, I decided to actually save Christabel’s name against her number. I knew I would not call her until after three days. This was the unwritten code of life for men:

Keep her wondering why you have not called. Did you not find her fascinating anymore? Was it her breath? Did it stink when she spoke? Her make up? Did she not use enough make up? Or was it rather too much? How about her…Oh my God.

Whilst saving the number, I discovered that, a digit was missing! The number was not complete. I had just toiled in vain. This realisation made me sick instantly.

Then an idea came to my head – try different number combinations by randomly adding a digit from 0 – 9 at the end of the Christabel’s number. One of it was sure to be hers.

And so my next journey began. I started trying different number combinations by adding random digits from 0 – 9.

Every number combination I tried was invalid. I kept trying the number combination thing. And then, one of such combinations went through. Well, almost went through, but for the fact that the phone was switched off. At this point, I remembered Christabel saying to me earlier in the day,” My phone is switched off at the moment.”

 Yes! That must be her number!

I saved that particular number for later.


Later that evening, I decided to check if Christabel’s number was still switched off. The time was 8:31pm. To my surprise, it rang on the first try.

Yes! Yes! Yes!!!

And a voice came on the other end. But it was a masculine voice saying “Salaam-Alaikum, Salaam-Alaikum, Salaam-Alaikum.”

And there began my punishment for hitting on a random girl and getting her number. The masculine voice called every day and night to say “Salaam-Alaikum”. And each time the man did, I would respectfully tell him he had got the wrong number. But no, his call would wake me up by 3:00am the next day and all he had to say was Salaam-Alaikum.




Note: Salaam-Alaikum – Peace be unto you.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

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The Other Me (Short Film)

Synopsis: Olamide, an autistic young man prepares for the biggest day of his life; a date with the love of his life, Sharon. Due to his condition, what seemingly should be his most exciting day becomes a nightmare.

Written and directed by Tomi Adesina, The Other Me is a compelling short film on Autism which raises awareness on the condition and speaks against discriminating people living with it. It was produced by Tomi Adesina and Michael Tayo Babalola’s BlueHouse Films in association with Omobolaji Opakunbi’s Phalanx Pictures.

The film stars Taiwo Adeboboye and Adebukola Oladipupo, among others.

On World Autism Day, April 2nd, 2016 awareness would be raised by various people on Autism. BlueHouse Films and Phalanx Pictures would be doing same with this project.

The date for the official release of the short film is yet to be announced.

For sponsorship; please contact: 08139263829 or 08039446273

Join the conversation on Social Media by using all or any of the following media:

Twitter: @bluehousefilms #TheOtherMe #AutismSpeaks

Instagram: @bluehousefilms

Facebook: facebook.com/bluehousefilms

Find hereunder, posters and a short trailer for the campaign.


 [wpvideo wOl0s5Tn]