Sunday, September 21, 2014


Hey guys. I am Meph. Oh, you haven’t heard the name before. Yeah, I know. It’s not your everyday name and no, it’s not a short form for Memphis. God! That name reminds me of Egypt (not that I’ve ever been there anyway. Lol). Well, Meph is a short form for Mephibosheth and please, don’t even get started on that now and you may please close your mouth now before some fly finds its way into it. I guess by now, you see why I choose to go with Meph. The full name is definitely a jawbreaker, right? Well, it ain’t my fault. Blame it on my dad or perhaps my grandpa or whoever thought of such a name for me when I was born.

Did I tell you I am a prince? I know it sounds unbelieveable. Kinda like when Lisa found out that Akeem was a prince. What was that movie again????? Yeah, 'Coming to America'. Like really? Who would look at me with my ugly face and lame feet and all and even think in that direction. Hmmm, indeed man looks at the outward appearance. Only the Lord looks beyond all that. I bet you my godfather, King David would agree with that again and again. Seriously, I’m a prince or at least so I was told. Well, technically, my dad, Jonathan should have been king after his dad, that is, my granddad who was actually a king. Oh, finally you figured it out. My granddad was King Saul, the first king of Israel and my dad, Jonathan was the crown prince but somehow he didn’t quite become king by a strange turn of events obviously orchestrated by the Almighty God. However, I don’t think that robs me of my position as a prince or do you? Well, that’s your problem. I’m a prince so you can call me Prince Meph if you choose.

Let me talk about my background for a while. I never actually really knew my dad, Jonathan. In fact, I was barely five years old when he died. I still have a vague memory of him though. I learnt he used to come in once a while to check on me and my mum who I can hardly remember as well. I was told dad was a very busy man and was usually away with Grandpa attending to official national business. I learnt dad was never really interested in becoming king someday much to grandpa’s chagrin. Of course what would you expect? Even I would have been so pissed. Whoever turns down an opportunity to be the king of Israel? Well, that’s my dad for you. Strange dude, right? Yeah I know.

Anyways, I understand dad had his reasons for not being keen on being king. For some reason, dad felt his best friend, David would be a better king. Now, that still baffles me till this very day and I’ll tell you why. David and my dad became best friends by a strange twist of fate. There had been a time when some terrorist called Goliath came along with the army of Philistia to threaten our country and no one dared fight this man. I understand he was about ten feet tall and so huge. Now, who would dare fight such a man? I know I wouldn’t. However, David was not like the rest of the people. He was just a skinny kid back then and from one of the poorest families in the city. In fact, I understand he was just an ordinary shepherd boy. A freaking nobody! To everyone’s greatest surprise, he actually killed Goliath with an ordinary sling and stone. It was overwhelming and that day, my dad fell in love. Hey, no, I didn’t say he was gay. Of course if he was, I wouldn’t have been born so banish the thought.

David’s feat was unprecedented and so he became so popular and everyone wanted a piece of this guy. Grandpa didn’t like the idea that some little kid was becoming more popular than him and he decided to get rid of him at all cost and that was where his issues with my dad, his son began. Dad loved David so much like a brother and was determined to ensure Grandpa never hurt him. I heard they even made a covenant to love one another for ever and protect each other’s families. At some point, David had to run for his life and Granddad actually got so obsessed with this that he and thousands of his men set out searching for David to kill him. Now, that’s another code I’m yet to crack. I mean, the king left his duties as king to go after one single man. Well, I guess my granddad was another strange dude. I heard that he had an evil spirit from the Lord tormenting him and making him do ridiculous stuff. Sometime later, the guys from Philistia came to fight against my country and it was in this war that grandpa, my dad and three of my uncles were killed. It was some serious massacre as I learnt.

By this time, Grandpa had become so unpopular in Israel that everyone wanted to wipe out his entire family. My uncle Ishbosheth was the only surviving legitimate son and soon, he was killed too by his own servants. Crazy world, I know. As it stood, I was the only one left; a five year old kid who didn’t even know jack about what was going on; yet people were after my life. Beats me too! My nanny took me and together we escaped. As we made our flight, I fell and broke my legs. We fled to some ghetto called Lodebar where I grew up away from the eyes of those who sought to kill me. Little did anyone know that I was a prince and had as much right to the throne as David, who had become king shortly after I arrived at Lodebar.

I got to go now. Next time, I’ll tell you guys how I was eventually found out and how some soldiers stormed Lodebar and took me back to Israel to face what could easily be my worst nightmare!

Friday, December 20, 2013


The mystery of time continues to surprise and indeed overwhelm me. Someone once said time is the currency of life.  Back in middle school, we were taught about the ‘currency system’ and how it works. Depending on whatever currency is in operation wherever you live, your access to that currency gives you a right to make certain demands and they are automatically met, as long as you can match that demand with the appropriate currency and the adequate amount. In some cases, you have to spend physical currency – notes, coins etc. and in some, you do the barter thing, where you exchange something for something else, more like a case of ‘scratch my back; I scratch your back’. In the final analysis, it all boils down to satisfaction. You spend whatever currency you have to get a form of satisfaction. You smile at a guy and he becomes interested in talking to you. You help an old lady cross the road and she appreciates you and says a word of prayer for you. You work for a specified period and you receive salary or wages. The currency system itself is what drives life and the currency of life itself is time. Whatever you get out of life is determined by the amount of time you are willing to spend.

The stages in life today have greatly evolved and continue to change form. A child is born; he passes through the infant stage, then the toddler stage, then the young child/preteen stage, teenage stage, the adolescent stage and then becomes a full adult. Soon, depending on the person’s perspective, he gets married or not, lives on and all things being equal, grows old and dies. End of story. All through this life process, time remains the currency that determines what is gotten out of life.

Sometimes, I try to reflect on which part of my life has been my favourite so far. Of the periods I can clearly remember, I try to make a choice between my later childhood, teenage stage, adolescence, adult stage or the stage I presently am – as a husband and a father with responsibilities to my immediate family; as a businessperson and my responsibilities to my clients and society in general or as an employer and my responsibilities to my staff and other colleagues, to mention but a few. I realize that in the short period of my existence, I have always had to make use of this currency called time. Now, the question of whether I spent my currency wisely or not is for me to answer. Now, which would be the favourite part of my life so far?

That question brings mixed feelings of all sorts. If I decided that I preferred a particular period of my life, wouldn’t that imply that I despise the other periods of my life and by extension, the people I had the opportunity of associating with in those periods? If I decided that I love all the periods of my life equally, wouldn’t that downplay the tough moments in those periods and the regrettable experiences or actions I had cause to be a part of during those periods? I therefore choose to take the middle ground and say every part of my life so far has been a mixture of ups and downs, good and bad, nice and scary – the best of both worlds. I guess that is the way the Creator planned it to be, all in a bid to ensure we grow right and become what we are supposed to become. Have you ever thought for a minute why the beautiful rose grows in the midst of thorns or why the nice looking tongue is surrounded by a set of sharp teeth? That’s how life is supposed to be!

A recent experience gave me a reason to smile and sigh. I discovered Hellofood. Today, as a married man, I hardly visit the kitchen for anything at all. Yeah, feel free to call me ‘traditional’. In fact, even in my days as a bachelor or a ‘free guy’ as some like to call it, the kitchen had always been my least favourite part of the house. I hardly have the time or patience to prepare my own food or even wait while food is being prepared (ask my wife. Lol). Now, this is not because I hate food or don’t like eating but because I hardly have that luxury of time. However, I don’t feel different or strange because I know there are hundreds of thousands and indeed millions of similar people in Nigeria, especially in the commercial cities like Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt etc. We love good food and we want to eat but we don’t have the time!

Now, imagine you could simply pick up your phone or make a few mouse clicks to request for whatever type of food you want, selecting the exact restaurant you want the meal ordered from and within minutes, you have your food right where you are – be it at home or in the office. And wait for it, all these at an affordable cost! Now, that’s what’s up, if you ask me! That’s outsourcing at the highest order. Hellofood has come to solve our time and food problems, taking the burden of thinking of what, where and how to eat off our shoulders and allowing us concentrate on the more important things and indeed spending our currency of time wisely in life. Check out their website and get literally blown away. 

So that’s it, folks. Let’s call this a Christmas Special. I wish you all a Merry Christmas! I hope to see you again before the New Year! Ciao!

Friday, September 13, 2013


Read Part 1 H E R E

Read Part 2 H E R E

The thoughts raced through my mind at an alarming speed. I could hardly concentrate and held on to the steering wheel a little tighter causing my long nails to dig into my palms and force some pain. I realized I was drunk. Okay, maybe half drunk, I assured myself as I recalled how I had taken a deep swig out of the Vodka bottle and nearly emptied its contents as I stood by my car in the parking lot. I had managed to leave the bar with a lot of eyes trailing me with disdain after settling my bill and paying some extra for the broken glasses. I caught the disappointment in Stacy's eyes one last time before stepping out into the night. To hell with that! I said to myself. She was just a freaking waiter and Lord knows I could have a hundred girls who were hotter, finer and definitely not waiters!

I did not know who to hate more at that moment – Mike or Anita. For the moment, I settled on Anita. I had always known all women were bitches. That's what my dad had fed into my head right after mum walked out on us two days after my seventh birthday. Anita had barely started walking then. However, I always made an exception when it came to my kid sister. She was the apple of my eyes in the very essence of the word. I could do anything for her, even die for her if I had to. I loved her that much. In fact, I had practically raised her myself. I was her big brother, her friend, her confidant, her everything! When my dad had been so heartbroken and never wanted to have anything to do with her because she was the splitting image of mum and reminded him too much of her, it was me who had shouldered the responsibility of being the dad she never had. It had taken so many years for dad to finally accept her and love her as a father and it was I who had made
that possible. Now, Anita was going ahead to stab me in the back!

I cast my mind back to my best friend, no scratch that; my now ex-best friend. Where did Mike find the audacity to try my patience like this? How could he do this to me? Our friendship had transformed into an unbreakable brotherhood over the years right from the first day we met when I had gone to submit a late assignment.

"Would you get out of my office before I spit on you?" Dr. Ese Idioko screamed.
I shook and got on my knees quickly. "I am sorry ma." I pleaded. "I was not in school when you gave the assignment ma. I had to leave school to take care of my sick sister and I just returned yesterday . . ."
"Then, go and submit your assignment to your sick sister", the woman said, flashing me a look of disgust. "You first year students act as though you are still in secondary school. Please leave my office, boy!"

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I had stayed awake all night to get this work done as soon as my roommate informed me of the deadline when I returned to school the previous day. I couldn't bear to start my first year with a carry-over in FMS 110. I resigned to my fate and was about to get up when I heard a voice.
"Mum, please allow him."
I looked at the direction the voice had come from and noticed a young man of about my age seated at a corner of the office.
"Michael, don't get me upset this afternoon, you hear me!" Dr. Idioko lashed out at the young man. "How many times have I told you not to interfere whenever I am dealing with my students?"
"I'm sorry, mum", the boy apologized. "It's just that . . ." He broke off as his mother's angry stare intensified. I was a little confused. Apparently, I had started a war between mother and son. He looked in my direction and flashed me a 'sorry-pal-I've-done-my-best' look.
"Are you still there?" she said as her gaze settled on me.

I got up in an instant and mouthed a quick apology as I headed for the door, wondering how I would recover the 20 marks I had just thrown away in the course.
I turned and felt hope building up in me. "Yes ma'am"
"Submit it over there" she said, pointing to a huge stack of papers I assumed to belong to my colleagues. I obeyed and prostrated in appreciation. "Thank you ma. God bless you ma."
"Don't thank me. Thank him!" she said dismissively as she looked over at her son. The boy smiled mischievously. "Thanks mum" he muttered with a wink.
"Thanks sir" I said after a quick rumination of how to address him. He looked about my age but he had saved me and so was ready of all the respect I could accord him at that moment. He simply smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.
That was the day I met Mike.

We bumped into each other in a campus restaurant some days and I insisted on paying for his food in spite of his refusal. We had a long chat and I realized he was in a second year student of Civil Engineering, a course his mum detested. Had she had her way, she would have wanted him to go into the Management Sciences. He was her only child, a product of a failed relationship with his father, a man he barely knew. She had never remarried.
"My mum is like ten men rolled up in the body of a woman" He said, "But no matter what, she's still a woman!"

From that day forward, Mike and I became like two peas in a pod. In fact, before long, I was Dr. Idioko's favourite student of FMS 110 and I ended up scoring an A in the course. I became a regular in the Idioko household and even lived there all through my second year when I had accommodation problems. Mike and I also did a lot of bad things together – things that still haunt me – and it was for this reasons I could not bear to see him marry my sister.

I thought about my sister as I turned into my street. Anita was about to make the biggest mistake of her life and I was never going to allow her make such a mistake. Not while I was alive. First thing tomorrow morning, I was going to call her up and ask her to come and see me. Then, I would give her the talk.

As I pulled into my driveway, my headlights flashed on a figure seated on my front porch. I squinted to have a better look. For an instant, I thought I saw Stacy, the waiter. Good heavens! Was I dreaming? It had to be the booze! As I moved closer, I had a better view. It was Anita! I was shocked beyond words. Speak of the devil! The lights settled on her as I brought the car to a halt. I realized my sister had been crying her eyes out!

Watch out for TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH Part 4

Saturday, August 31, 2013

IF I WERE A B . . .

I remember the first time I heard Beyonce's 'If I were a boy'. That song seemed to make a lot of sense initially but then, in the same manner the most interesting routines tend to get boring over time, the song soon began to irritate the hell out of me. I began to feel like 'If you were a boy and you would do this or that, who cares?' Would it bring down the price of garri? Besides, such wishes or dreams were best left unexpressed. If Beyonce really wanted to be a boy, it wasn't impossible. We have transgenderists all over the place so why sing about it and keep it as a wish. 

She's got the money to make that happen anyway so why not get on with it and spare me all that crap. Anyways, that was just my anger talking . . . my anger at JayZ for being the one to sweep a princess like Beyonce off her feet when there were finer looking guys like me out there. Yes! I reiterate. I am way, way, way finer than JayZ! (Like, the guy is even fine at all!) But then, like Beyonce's wish wouldn't likely ever happen, that wish of mine (if it ever was one) was definitely a wild dream. 

Well, I heard some news sometime last week that I'm still yet to recover from. Now, y'all know normally I don't do gossip and all of that (If I ever tried that, it would take me several lifetimes to get to where the likes of Bella and Linda are) but I just had to talk about this because it affected me personally. In fact I haven't been the same ever since. On a positive note however, the experience taught me one or two things about life and the fact that no one is invincible. I wouldn't necessarily call myself 'overly religious' (Like, the word even exists) but I am someone who believes in and loves God with all of my being. In my little time on earth, God has shown me what it truly feels like to have a father. He's been a father in more ways than I can imagine. Well, that's a story for another day. However, if you've followed 'The Geebee Chronicles' series, you'd be able to have a little understanding of what I mean. Now back to my personality. I have always craved the knowledge of God in more ways than I can remember, right from the days of my childhood when I did so blindly and in my naiveté even till the days when I went so far away from him and indulged myself in the most unimaginable vices possible. Yet, deep inside me, I constantly felt that longing for him and that call of a father to a runaway son. Thankfully, I found my way back and keep finding that path that shines day by day.

In my quest for God, I have had cause to study the Bible, volumes of Christian literature, religious books and listened to teachers of the word of God. In fact, I have a few preachers I label as my special ones - both here in Nigeria and internationally. These men and women have helped in a great deal to shape my understanding of deep spiritual things and while I wouldn't claim any of them to be perfect, I make bold to label them as my mentors of some sort. Pastor B happens to be one of my top ten in that regard. I have sat under his ministration a number of times and even in absentia, I could spend thousands of naira buying his tapes and CDs and I never ever feel the same after listening to him even when I have to listen over and over again. He is one of the men of God I respect, and trust me, there ain’t too many of them. Now, imagine my shock when I read Ese Walter’s story and the follow-up stories and buzzes all over the social networks. All I could think to myself was ‘Why Pastor B?’ ‘It shouldn’t be him’. ‘Wow! This is sad!’ ‘No, it can’t be true’ etc. I guess I felt and still feel this way because of the sentimental attachment I have towards him. Now, I’m trying to put myself in his shoes and imagine what I would do if I were in ‘the eye of the storm’ as it’s been touted around hence the title, ‘If I were a B . . .’

The first scenario of course would be if the stories being peddled around were not true. If I were a B . . . I would:

-     Cry my eyes out for hours days asking God ‘Why me?’, and like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, plead with God to let this cup pass over me. Haba! If this was supposed to be a trial of faith, mehn, that’s pretty tough, don’t you think?

-      Come out openly to deny the story and not ‘decide to keep silent’, well, except if God actually tells me to. After all, God told the children of Israel to ‘stand still and see his salvation’.

-       Comfort my wife and stay strong for her. Y’all know women are so chicken-hearted in situations like this and they tend to feel the shock more than men. Even Sarah, Abraham’s wife got to a point where she was ready to give up and take the easy way out through Hagar, her slave. Come on! Don’t stare like that. Go and read your bibles joor! lol

-   Keep praying to God for my accusers (now, that’s a difficult one) that God should touch their hearts and make them repent of the evil they were doing. Remember, on the cross, our Lord, Jesus Christ asked God to forgive those who crucified him for they know not what they do. Although, in the deepest recesses of my heart, I would want to be like Elijah and call down fire from heaven to consume those false accusers.

These are a few of the things I would do if I were a B . . . and the stories aren’t true! But then, like Beyonce noted, I am not a B . . .

Now, on to the second scenario. If the stories are actually true . . . deep sigh! I wouldn’t even want to be a B . . . in the first place in that case! If I were a B . . . then I would:

-  Act like David did after he had Uriah killed, and took his wife and was rebuked by       God’s prophet. I would cry out to God for days the rest of my life if I have to, for his mercy. I would spread before him in sackcloth and ashes and fast and pray for as long as my spirit can bear for him to have mercy on me and restore me to right standing with him.

-  Make an open confession and ask for the forgiveness of my wife and for her prayers and support too. In fact, it would be at a time like this that her support would mean the world to me.

-  Ask for the forgiveness of my false accusers (oh, they wouldn’t be false in this scenario,    would they?) and make any appropriate restitution.

-  Ask for the forgiveness of my followers and like the prodigal son, tell them I am no longer worthy to be their Shepherd and they should also pray for me that God would have mercy on me.

-   Hand over my church to capable hands and proceed on a soul-searching journey of at least one year, preferably outside my immediate location to go and get myself back on track with God and await his directives on what next to do.

These and much more are some of the things I would do if I were a B . . . but then, I am not a B . . .

As the wise ones say, it is he that wears the shoes that knows where it hurts the most. Like Beyonce’s song, all I have noted above are just gibberish. I have to be in the shoes to know what I would actually do. However, I need to stress the fact that we should understand that no man regardless of how powerful and anointed is a superman. We are mere men (and women) and are susceptible to vices of all sorts. It is only the grace of God that keeps us from falling. Let he that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he falls. 1 Cor. 10:12

How was that for a comeback post? It feels good to be back in these parts again. I hope to stay around for a while. I promise to drop the concluding parts of ‘TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH’ in subsequent posts. Thanks for keeping faith with a runaway blogger like me. Cheers!

Monday, April 22, 2013


‎Read the first part HERE

I stared at Mike as if he had just told me he swallowed a frog or something. Really, it would have made more sense if that was what I heard especially considering what I thought I just heard.
"I don't understand you", I said, meaning it. If I said I understood what my best friend was telling me at that moment, I would easily pass for a big-time liar. I looked at him closely wondering if he had probably had too much to drink but the irony of it all was our order was yet to even be served. I had ordered a bottle of Martini and I definitely knew one couldn't get high on something that was yet to be tasted. In fact, at that moment, I knew I needed something stronger - Vodka perhaps.

Mike sighed. "Tony, I really don't know how to begin to explain this. It's all coming out wrong but please."
"You bet your ass it's all coming out wrong." I cut in. "In fact, you have to be the biggest clown alive to sell me that trick. It's working though." I added with a chuckle. I looked towards the bar in irritation. What the hell was wrong with these bartenders? I muttered inaudibly. It had been barely five minutes since I made my order but it felt like we had been waiting for an hour.

I got up without a word and headed towards the bar. I had barely moved when I collided with someone. In a flash I caught the contents of her tray before they spilled onto the floor. I politely steadied her touching her upper arms and muttering a quick apology. I spotted the Martini and two glasses in the tray.
"Sorry sir. Your drink?" a cute and tall girl said in a voice that reminded me of some girl I used to know. My intention when I got up from my chair had been to go and vent my anger at my delayed order but somehow, I found myself smiling. Indeed, this chic was cute but that wasn't even the issue right now, was it? Mike was! No, not Mike in fact. Mike's words were!

"Thanks  . . . Stacy" I said, as I caught her name tag hooked just above her left breast. I acknowledged again to myself that she really did look cute - my kind of girl! But then, that wasn't an issue to pursue right now.
"Please could you make it something stronger? Vodka preferably."
Stacy seemed surprised but she smiled all the same. Wow! That smile was a sight for sore eyes! I'm definitely taking this one home with me, I decided . . . as soon as I was done dealing with Mike and his impossible dreams! I returned to my table to see my best friend looking like one who had just been informed of his impending castration. The brief time-out had been worth it. I felt better, I had to admit. My head was clearer to hear whatever he had to say or had been trying to say.

"If I understand you at all, a case I really doubt anyway, you're saying you and Anita  . . . " I broke off. No way! There was no way in hell this was going to come out of my mouth.
"Tony, I'm sorry! I should have come to you first but things happened so suddenly."
"Are you crazy?" I heard myself say in a voice that didn't at all sound like mine. "Things happened suddenly? What things? Look here, don't you dare fuck with me, okay!"
Mike sighed. "Tony, the thing is I love her and I want to make her happy for as long as I live."

I looked around the crowded enclosure. The rotating disco lights and ear-splitting music pumping from the speakers fuelled my rage. I wished I could reach over and punch the living daylights out of this bastard right before me.  What the hell did Mike think he was saying?
"You love her and want to make her happy for as long as you live?" I repeated Mike's words to him. "Do you hear yourself. You sound like a freaking idiot! You want to love and make someone happy? You! Come on, cut the bullshit, okay! I'm really hanging by a thread right now and I'm trying not to lose my head."

The waiter arrived with my order and smiled as she arranged the bottle and glasses on the table. I slipped my complimentary card into her palms and returned her smile. I looked on as she walked away swaying her hips seductively. Now, that's what's up, I said to myself.
"Tony what's wrong with me being with your sister? Mike asked confidently.
I looked at him as I worked off the seal of the bottle.
"Everything, partner! Everything!" I said angrily. "You can't be with my sister. Not you, Mike!"
"You think I'm not good enough for her?" he asked, his gaze fixed on me.
"Yes! My point exactly!" I said coldly as I poured some drink into my glass. I poured some into Mike's glass as well.
I put the glass to my lips and swallowed its contents. I felt the spirit light up a fire inside me. Martini, my ass! This Vodka was a perfect choice.
"She's too good for you, Mike!" I finished and set down my glass with more force than was necessary.

My best friend was incensed and I was ready to watch him burst in flames or even drop dead - anything at all to get him away from my sister.
"That was someone's sister you just made moves on, you bastard!" Mike lashed at me.
"Who?" I asked, wondering what the hell Mike was talking about before it suddenly dawned on me. "Oh! The waiter? Come on, loser. She's just a freaking waiter, mehn! Do you know how many guys have tapped that ass or being in there? Please don't gimme that crap!"
"You're a damned hypocrite, Tony!" Mike retorted.
"What the hell are you trying to tell me here, Mike?" I blurted out. I could feel the Vodka running through my veins. My friend was yet to even touch his glass. "You sit your ass there telling me you've been seeing my sister all this while right behind my back and . . ."
"And I told you I'm sorry about that, Tony!" Mike cut in.
"To hell with your apologies!" I screamed! "You betrayed me, mehn! You stabbed me, bro! How could you?"
Mike sat speechless! I could feel tears sting in my eyes as I spoke but I didn't care. Indeed I was hurt!
"Now you sit there telling me you love Anita and you want to make her happy as long as you live! How do you plan to do that, player?"
Mike sighed. "I love Anita with all of my heart, Tony! Please, just . . ."
"You don't love her man!" I shouted and banged the table! The impact caused the glasses to topple and I had to catch the open Vodka bottle again as it almost dropped to the ground. The contents of Mike's glass splashed right on him and shattered as it hit the floor. My glass rolled off the table and shattered too. Mike looked at me and I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes. Not that it mattered anyway.
"I'm sorry man!" He said as he got up and walked away.

I sighed frustratingly and realized for the first time that many eyes were on me at that moment. Damn! I had attracted unnecessary attention. Two men approached my table and I noticed name tags on them.
"Is everything okay, sir?" The taller of the two asked politely.
"Yeah fine!" I quickly said, setting down the Vodka bottle on the table. "Just a little excitement. Sorry. It's okay, I'll pay for the damages." I reached into my trousers to get my wallet. Stacy came to join the men at my table and our eyes met but she wasn't smiling this time. I winced.

Ten minutes later, I was on the expressway heading home. I couldn't shake off the hurt and pain I felt. I thought about my sister. Why had Anita allowed this to happen? How could she betray me like this? I wondered how many times Mike had slept with her in the last three months since I introduced them. It was none of my business who my sister dated; she was 26 for chrissakes! But when it had to be my best friend, then it had become my business! There was no way I was going to let this continue. It could be anyone else but not Mike! I cared about my sister too much to let her make such a costly mistake. Mike was just like me! We didn't deserve good women! Especially not after the way we had lived our lives. I didn't care if I lost my best friend (like I hadn't lost him already). I was going to fight this with all I had.

Watch out for TO LOVE AND CHERISH Part 3.

Sunday, April 14, 2013


"Does anyone have a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?"

My heart skipped a beat. Was this question really necessary? I winced. The instant silence that pervaded the massive enclosure was frustrating. I suppressed the urge to let out a sneeze. Even a rattling chair or a dropping coin would have punctured the silence considerably. Really, I could do without the attention.

"Speak now or forever remain silent!" the bald and bespectacled Reverend Father finished.

The discomfort I was feeling increased a tad. I hoped my sudden change
in countenance wasn't obvious to the rest of the people in the massive Cathedral. Screw them! I decided. What if it was obvious? Would that change anything? I slowly allowed my gaze wander a few paces to my left and for a second, the old clergyman's eyes and mine met. He smiled at me warmly before turning his attention to the congregation before him. I shivered! Why had the priest smiled at me in such manner? It hadn't been just a casual smile, I was sure of that! It was a 'knowing' smile, a smile that meant something. Perhaps, the old man could actually read my mind and he knew what was going on in it. Perhaps, that 'smile' had meant "Beat it loser! You lost."

What? Had I actually lost? Hell no! As it were, the ball was still in my court. I still had the cards and the dealer's hand. My eyes continued their slow travel and settled on Mike. He must have felt me staring as he tilted his head in my direction. Our gazes held for a moment and he smiled too before quickly averting his gaze and focusing on the clergyman in front of us. There had been something different about Mike's smile. It had been nervous and forced; totally unlike Reverend Flynn's. I had sensed the insecurity in his smile and I knew why it was so. At that moment, I had the power to alter the entire course of the day and Mike knew this too. I considered what it would mean if I decided to use my powers at that moment.

"Yes, I have a reason!" I spoke out, loud enough for every single ear of the hundred or more people sitting in the pews to capture. Suddenly, there was pandemonium. The seeming graveyard became an instant market place. Mike's knees went weak and for a second, he looked like he was standing on wobbling legs. Reverend Flynn's grey moustache looked as though it would crawl up his nose with the frown that contorted his face. I wondered what the confusion was all about. The clergyman had asked a question and all I had done was respond. I had a reason why I thought the couple should not get married after all, so what the hell was wrong with everyone?

It was while I assessed the situation that I noticed the old man who had led the bride to the altar earlier in the service. He looked as though he would drop dead any minute. The look on his face was that of pain, heartbreak and despair. As our eyes met, the tears flowed down his face. I could tell that the old man would never remain the same again. I turned away from him and almost immediately observed the small crowd around me. Mike, the priest and some others had gathered around someone. The heartbroken old man hurriedly made his way to the front. I moved closer and realized the bride had fainted and the people around were making attempts to revive her. My heart went out to my father and my sister.

I shook as I felt a nudge on my shoulder. It was Mike and that was his way of silently telling me to focus. He smiled again and I smiled back. My smile was not borne out of affection for him but from the events that had just taken place in my heart moments ago. No, I couldn't ruin my sister's wedding day or break my father's heart because of my selfishness. I had to let it go. I realized I would have to live with the fact that my best friend was marrying my sister and yet there I stood with him as his best man! The thought made me cringe with revulsion like it had always made me feel right from the very first day Mike told me he loved my sister.

It all felt just like yesterday . . .


Hey y'all. Please don't mind my disappearing acts. Unexplainable reasons but it feels good to be back. THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES would officially be on hold till further notice. I hope to explain why later. I shall be featuring a number of mini-series here indefinitely and I'll be glad to welcome you on board. You just read the first part of 'TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH'. Watch out for the next episode.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013


I recently came across this picture on Twitter and it took a little while for it to sink in. Now, before you begin to consider me ‘stupid’ or ‘dumb’, try assuming that my brain is a little too advanced to process seemingly simple things like that. Lol. Anyways, after a little consideration, the import of the response of the little dog hit me. Most of us have at one time or the other been bitten by the ‘New Year’s Resolution’ bug and we’ve found ourselves making decisions on the things we intend to begin to do or cease to do, the things we want to do some more or cut down on, the people we want to begin to talk to or not talk to anymore etc. The list goes on and on. In fact, many of us actually go on and list it out in a ‘To do’ list format like our dog in the picture noted. I did this a lot, even until a few years ago and I know a lot of people who still do.

Now, I have nothing against New Year Resolutions but I’ve often wondered about two scenarios. First, why do these resolutions they have to be made or proposed to become effected at the beginning of the year. Do you really have to wait till the beginning of a New Year to make that decision to stop drinking, smoking, begin to do your laundry yourself, cut down on fatty and junk foods, go out some more, attend church services more consistently etc. As the saying goes, ‘what you have to do, do quick’ or ‘Make hay while the sun shines’. You don’t have to put off till January 1st what you could have done in the previous year’s August, November or December. The next point has more to do with the picture above. The funny thing about these resolutions is that a large chunk of them actually get broken within the first few days, weeks or at best within the first few months of the New Year. Believe me, most of mine in the past hardly last till February and that was one of the reasons I got tired of making them. I just decide I will do this or won’t do that anymore regardless of whenever the period is and usually, it’s not even at the beginning of the year. Sometimes, it works and sometimes it doesn’t. My conclusion is, it’s all a part of being human! Yeah, lame excuse, thank you!

So, before I forget, let me say ‘Happy New Year’ to you all. Yeah I know it’s belated but technically, we are still in the first week of the year so abegi!  May this year bring you unprecedented blessings and goodwill in all your endeavours and compared with all previous years you’ve experienced, may 2013 stand out significantly as the best year ever for you. AMEN.

I know it’s the beginning of the year and all that but I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a favour so here it is. Last year May, I completed my first book, editing and all (done by our own special Atilola) around and had hoped to publish (resolution?) before the end of the year but somehow I couldn’t get to doing that. I hope to do that this time around (Okay! Yes, resolution! lol). The book has/had a title but somehow, lately I haven’t been feeling it so I’m kinda hoping y’all would lend a helping hand here. *In Dettol ad voice* After all, If you guys don’t help, who will? I’m going to drop the synopsis. So here it is:


The setting of the story is mainly in two Nigerian cities, Port Harcourt and Lagos. The central characters are united through the similarities they share in being haunted by past experiences that have shaped their outlooks on life and love. They thus find themselves unconsciously restricted from taking plunges in the present as they remain stranded in the emotional wastelands of their past. It is a book with diverse and multifaceted characters.

When Isioma Nwokocha, daughter and heir of late Chief Timothy Nwokocha finds out two weeks to her wedding that her fiancé and her aunt are having an affair, she is devastated and attempts suicide. She is rescued in the nick of time by Bright Davies, her laundryman. Bright proves to be a strong pillar of support for her and to her greatest surprise, Isioma soon finds herself falling for him. However, unable to shake off a bitter experience from his past, Bright is wary of allowing himself get attached especially because he believes such a relationship could never last due to the barriers class and fortune had placed between them. In spite of the challenges posed by the differences in social status and the outright disapproval of her best friend, Tracy Okonji who believes she is about to make a similar mistake by falling for another gold digger, Isioma persists in her resolve to make the relationship with Bright work. Eventually, the walls around Bright’s heart crumble and just as things begin to look up for him and Isioma, a careless bet he had made with one of the household staff surfaces and nearly ruins his relationship with Isioma permanently.

Daniel Mac-Olubi is the Editor-in-Chief at one of the nation’s most prominent publishing houses. Almost a decade after the death of the mother of his son and only woman he ever loved, he is unable to bring himself to love any other woman, having resolved to devote all his love and care to his son, Timmy.  Sandra Aikhomu is haunted by the memory of a traumatic experience at the hands of the first and only man she ever loved; an experience that nearly took her life and had her confined to a Psychiatric home for almost two years. Years later, by a strange twist of fate, she finds herself working under Daniel Mac-Olubi, a notorious boy from her secondary school days whom she had always hated with a passion. In spite of their initial aversion for each other, they soon develop an attraction that begins to blossom until Timmy, Daniel’s young son proves to be a major obstacle.

Kayode Jacobs is best friends with DanielMac-Olubi. He is married to Halimah, a top fashion designer and career-focused woman who is so devoted to her job that she makes no time for her marriage much to her husband’s chagrin. Eventually, their marriage crashes and Kayode, renowned for his ability to fix other people’s problems finds himself on the other side of the coin.

And that’s it. So, I’ll be glad to have your suggestions for a SUITABLE TITLE plus your feedbacks on what you think about the story. Is it something you think sounds good? Would you buy/read such a book? Does it sound stupid (he he)? Does it sound Nollywood-ish (I kinda think so and I sooooo hate Nollywood!)? etc. I’m counting on you guys. Thanks a lot.

Here’s an excerpt from the book:

Bright knocked on the bedroom door one more time. There was still no response. He shrugged indifferently and turned the knob. This wouldn’t be the first time he would be entering Madams room. He still remained baffled about his bosss carefree nature as regards her personal items. Miss Nwokocha did not see anything wrong in her laundryman coming into her bedroom to pick her laundry. He recalled the first time she had sent for him to come up to her bedroom, and how scared he had been to venture into the room. Ngozi had led him all the way up, past the suite, and as they moved on, he began to wonder where the housekeeper was taking him.
     “Where are we going?” He had asked curiously.
     “Madams room,” the housekeeper had answered indifferently.
     “But . . .” he had begun, but Ngozi had assured him that the boss was a very free person and had no qualms about her staff coming into her suite or any of its rooms so long as they were not doing anything wrong in it. Bright himself had confirmed this fact in the last few weeks. Miss Nwokocha was so trusting of her household staff and had never had any reason to query any of them over the loss of any of her belongings. At last, they had gotten to the bedroom door and Ngozi had left as soon as she led him to the door. Bright had stood there in confusion, wondering what next to do. The door was ajar.
     “Madam, you sent for me,” he had said, standing at the door.
     “Come in, please,” she had answered.
He had hesitated for a second, wondering if it was really okay for him to go into his boss’ bedroom. At last, he had gone in, and in a most polite manner, she had pointed out her laundry basket and showed him how she wanted her clothes to be taken care of.
     “You can always come in here to pick my laundry, in case Im not around. My door is always open,” she had said at last, leaving him to wonder if she was serious. She seemed so different from most rich people he knew.

He wondered where she could be as he entered the room. He marvelled, as he always did, at the massiveness of the room. The bedroom was larger than three of the rooms in the staff quarters put together. He took in his boss admirable taste and fashion. Her bed was neatly covered with an expensive duvet made from what looked like sheepskin. Her huge wardrobe was closed, but he could bet it was filled with expensive clothes, many which she had probably never worn or would never wear. The dressing mirror was positioned just by the bed and various expensive perfumes and cosmetics adorned the space. He recalled he had not noticed her in the living room when he walked into the suite. Perhaps, she was by the pool relaxing, but doubted the possibility. It was barely 8.00 a.m. on a Saturday; it was unlikely that she would be at the pool that early. 

He spotted the laundry basket and began stuffing the clothes in it into his large bath, whistling a popular tune to himself and as he did. He suddenly heard a sound that made him jump. It had emanated from the bathroom. Immediately, he realised his boss had been in the bathroom all the while. Why had he not thought of that before? Bright hurriedly picked up the bath, hoping to exit the room before she entered. As he turned, the bathroom door opened and she emerged, singing to herself, her white bath towel carelessly tied around her slim body. Isioma lifted her hands and screamed in fright as she suddenly noticed the person in the room causing her towel to drop off her body to the floor. Bright stared in shock at the stark nakedness before him, and fixed his eyes on the sight for a split second before quickly looking away.    
     “I’m . . . Im sorry ma . . . madam,” he muttered as he avoided the sight and headed for the door. “I did not know you were in the bathroom.”
     “Just leave, please. Leave.” Isioma managed as she hurriedly picked the towel and wrapped it firmly around her body. Bright, now at the door, fidgeted with the knob in obvious confusion.
     “Im sorry madam,” he said again, still looking away from her.
     “Please, get out at once!” Isioma screamed angrily.

Bright left the bedroom dejectedly shutting the door behind him. Isioma sat on the bed and shut her eyes. She rubbed her head furiously. What in Gods name just happened? Had her laundryman just seen her stark naked? What had he . . . ? She sighed and got off the bed to get dressed. She had to catch ‘The Ellen DeGeneres Show’ on Mnet Series.

So that’s a sneak preview for y’all. Let me know what you think and pleaseeeeee, don’t forget the title suggestions based on the synopsis. Thanks a bunch, folks!

THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES would continue in the next post. Meanwhile enjoy this BLAST FROM THE PAST-post that’s kinda related to the resolutions thingy. Click HERE to read Episode 35: Resolutions. See you soon! Happy New Year once again!

Friday, December 21, 2012


Have you ever heard the term ‘quicksand’? Imagine being trapped and every attempt to get out gets you further trapped. I learnt that quicksand is something you should never struggle with and the more you try to get out of it, the faster you get caught in it. For the purpose of this post, I checked Wikipedia and learnt further that quicksand forms in saturated loose sands when the sand is suddenly agitated. When water in the sand cannot escape, it creates liquefied soil that loses strength and cannot support weight. They are mostly found inland (on riverbanks, near lakes or in marshes) or near the coast.

The funny thing is you never actually know quicksand from mere sight as it appears to be solid when undisturbed. It is until you find yourself in it you realize what a mess you’re in and annoyingly, you find yourself practically stuck not because you’re frozen or immobilized but because any action on your part to get yourself out of it gets you further trapped in. So, technically, it becomes safer to stay still. Talk of choosing the frying pan instead of the fire or picking the lesser of two evils.  Now, that’s one experience you shouldn’t pray to have but that’s what it felt like after the incident with Cher, my pregnant girlfriend’s sister.

After Cher’s departure that morning, I had the opportunity to really think about all I had done, more like what we had done. The implications were dire as it were. I felt like Macbeth who had murdered sleep and indeed I knew I had. I had called BG immediately and we made up.
“Hey baby!” she said as soon as she picked the call. “I’m so glad you called at last. I’ve been so worried and I hardly slept throughout the night.”
I swallowed saliva. She had been worried and full of guilt over her outburst while I had been eating the forbidden fruit with her sister. A deep pang of guilt forcefully hit me afresh.
 “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what came over me. I promise it would never happen again. Hope you’ve forgiven me.”
“It’s alright baby,” I managed. “I understand. In your condition, you would be prone to overreacting over the smallest of issues.”
“Yeah I know but it’s no excuse and I’m sorry again. Please forgive me.”
I winced. Her pleas were driving me insane especially considering the fact that it should have actually been me pleading with her to forgive me for what I had done.

 I was thrown into a deep valley of decision. I thought of simply confessing my sins and telling her what I had done and escaping from the guilt that was trying hard to kill me. I dismissed the thought promptly. It would be a suicidal act, not necessarily for me but BG was bound to go berserk on hearing such news and only God knew what extent she could go as a result. No, that was too big a risk, I decided. I would simply have to keep my mouth shut this time. I would simply have to play along and allow BG keep believing she was the one who had offended me.“I have called Cher as well and . . .” BG continued but I cut in immediately.
“You called Cher . . .?” I said before I could stop myself.
“Yeah I had to apologize to her as well for the accusations. She said she spent the night at your place . . .”
My heart stopped. What in God’s name had Cher done?
BG was still talking. “Thanks for your consideration. Cher said you had to sleep on the floor so she could use the bed. That’s so thoughtful of you, Geebee.”
I suppressed a grateful sigh. Cher was simply a mistress of deception and I had to admit to myself that I was in awe. I unsuccessfully tried to imagine what Cher could have said to convince BG into trusting us so easily after her earlier suspicion. I ended the call feeling like the weight on my shoulders had been miraculously lifted.

Two days later, Cher was at my place again. It was different this time around because BG was aware and in total support. I was uncomfortable with the idea but Cher had told me on phone a day before that it was best we kept up the act.
“Geebee, what’s up?” she had said cheerfully after I received her call.
“I’m good.” I said, maintaining my composure as best as I could.
“We need to talk” she said.
I was silent for a moment trying hard to process her words.
“Are you there?” she asked.
“Yes I’m here and no, I don’t think it’s a good idea that we see.” I responded bravely.
“Look Geebee, we both agree what happened between us was a mistake but remember we had plans before then. We can’t just throw all that away.”
She had a point. She was supposed to be a partner in my little ‘enterprise’ but as it were, I couldn’t trust her not to push me to the limits again and I couldn’t trust myself either not to fall again. In fact, I was too sure I would fall once more if ever we got together again.
“Besides, BG believes we are making moves already. If we break it off suddenly, don’t you think she’d smell a rat? Geebee, please I need this opportunity and as soon as you can teach me all I need to know, I’ll be out of your hair.”

True to her words, she kept things strictly business this time around and in less than ten minutes, we were off to the café. The evening turned out to be a very productive one and we penned down two good deals from existing magas and secured prospective ones. Her face on the webcam proved to be impressive to the magas and while I chatted with them, her ideas were a welcome contribution. By the end of that evening, I was no longer reluctant to have her around. By the end of that week, she had claimed about three Western Union transfers on my behalf. I took her and BG shopping and we all had so much fun together. It was almost as though nothing wrong ever happened between us some days before.

Before long, I began to confide very much in Cher and she in me. I told her about my plans for life, my frustrations with BG’s pregnancy and how I never actually loved her enough to want to marry her. She was so easy to talk to and at a point I knew we were becoming too close for comfort but this time, I didn’t seem to mind and neither did she. It was almost inevitable that we would go down the same wrong road we had gone previously and when it happened again, there was hardly any guilt. We simply decided we would keep things as discreet as possible and give BG no reason to suspect anything. I knew it was crazy but it was like I had become trapped in quicksand. I decided I was not going to struggle with it anymore because the more I tried to struggle, the deeper I would find myself sinking. It was safer to stay still until I got help whenever it came.


I read a book during the week and I have to admit it's the most unique book I've read this year (and I've read quite a number). Seun Odukoya's 'For Days and a Night' is one book you won't stop reading for a second once you begin until you're done. I can guarantee that because it happened to me! Seun is a fantastic writer (one of the guys I look up to, in fact but he claims he's just trying. lol) and he's also a blogger on Wordpress. The beautiful thing about it is you can download it for FREE! Yes, you heard! Click HERE to download.

Then, please check out my friend, Salemcity's new track, Paradise. It's a song that's best described with its name. It's a song that would take you to Paradise literally. Click HERE to download. 
Thanks folks. Have a lovely Christmas celebration!

Thursday, December 6, 2012


I once heard there are three major vices that compete for the average young man's attention and only when a man successfully crosses the youthful stage of life steering clear of these mischievous trio could he be said to be a perfect youth. The vices form the DSF clan, an acronym for Drinking, Smoking and Fornication. Now, is there any dude in the house who’d say he’s never indulged in any of these? Please, stand up or forever remain silent and content with your status as a presently or erstwhile Imperfect youth. Of course there are exceptions and this has to do with the young men who have been fortunate enough to have been on the righteous path from a rather young age. These ones tend to cross the gulf of youth without getting hooked by at least one of the DSF components. Note that I used the word ‘average young man’ where this implies boys who get to grow up without necessarily being recipients of strict spiritual and moral guidance. Unfortunately, these vices have become so etched in the fabric of our society that people excuse them, using the comfortable term ‘youthful exuberance’. Indeed!

Personally, I wouldn’t totally agree that it is permissible for young men to indulge in these excesses in the name of youthful exuberance but even if the benefit of doubt is given, I strongly believe such kids should outgrow such tendencies after a while. At twenty, if you are a member of the DSF clan, there should definitely be a get-away plan. You shouldn’t see yourself still doing such stuff by twenty-five! That’s what I have always believed and still do believe. Unfortunately, many young men still find themselves stuck in this vicious community well into their thirties, forties and even beyond. I was not lucky enough to escape DSF; in fact, I sampled all its components and it felt so good at the time. However, I always had a get-away plan. I knew this wasn’t something I wanted to do forever and so always had to use the ‘check myself before I wreck myself’ code. One factor that further strengthened this resolve was the fleeting feeling that came with all of these vices.  The fun usually only lasted for that present moment and I always hated the way I felt afterwards. It was a thought I hardly shared with anyone but I always had my get-away plan at the back of my mind. 

Of the lot, fornication seems to be the easiest commit, especially considering the available options this vice offers. If you’re not bold enough to approach a girl, you could save yourself the trouble by patronizing brothels. Smoking takes more guts, especially when you go beyond cigarettes and try out smoking weed or some crazier stimulant. Drinking tends to be a little easier to indulge in than smoking but the effects could mess a man up just as well. The hangovers from drinking sprees could subject one to the worst forms of ridicule. The most terrible part is the hangover experience of the morning after a night of drunkenness. It usually feels like hell. I could compare this feeling to what I felt in the morning after the night I found myself kissing Cher.

I opened my eyes and stretched lazily in bed. I attempted to roll sideways and suddenly I realized I was not alone. Cher was still sleeping soundly. I sat up and stared at her sleeping frame for a moment. This was not happening, I tried to convince myself. Had I just spent the night in bed with my girlfriend’s sister? I felt bile build up in my throat. I felt like a pregnant woman with morning sickness. Perhaps, BG’s pregnancy had been miraculously transferred to me and I was beginning to feel the symptoms of early pregnancy! I was suddenly woozy all over and the room seemed to spin. I looked at a corner of the bed and saw my boxer shorts and I recalled all that had transpired the night before . . .

Cher broke off suddenly and pulled away. In the darkness, I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. I tried to imagine how humiliated she must have felt as well.
“Cher . . .” I began, feeling like I had just had ‘dumbass’ tatooed on my forehead.
She didn’t respond. Her back was turned to me and I thought twice about reaching out to touch her again. That was how the foolishness had started anyway.
“I’m so sorry, Cher” I said, finally finding my voice. “I really don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay, Geebee. I’m sorry too.” she said, turning slightly to face me in the darkness. “I guess I am as guilty as you are anyway.”

I understood what she meant. She had kissed me back and I figured she had probably surprised herself as well. I remained on the spot I was sitting on the ground for a while wondering what implications the kiss we had just shared could have. It wasn’t something I would easily be able to shake off and I wondered if it would be the same for her. Her sister was pregnant for me and as things were, I was practically stuck with her, at least until after the baby was born and probably for a few years more until we decided what the future held for both of us. That automatically meant I would always be connected to Cher one way or the other. Could I bear to look at her without thinking of the kiss? How long would it take for BG to notice the tension that would exist between her sister and I? How about our Yahoo-Yahoo association? Would we still be able to continue?

I sighed and tried to get up to crawl back to the corner of the floor to sleep off the exhaustion I felt but I stopped in my tracks as Cher gripped my sleeve. I was speechless for a moment as I tried to process what could be going on and what I should say at that moment.
“We’re both human beings and blood flows through our veins!” she simply said as she pushed her body closer to mine. The physical contact caused electric sparks to shoot through my entire body and every thought I had building in my head vanished into thin air. I took her mouth and kissed her again with so much force that I never imagined myself capable of. In the darkness, and with our lips aching from the forceful kissing, we undressed one another without pausing for a moment to think. A brief pause would probably have been all that was needed to save the day but we seemed determined not to interfere with the strong chemistry in the air. Minutes later, with our blind passion well spent, we had fallen asleep. . . .

I winced as I recalled all that had happened. I had felt so bad about kissing Cher but I had gone ahead to do the most despicable thing. I was sure I had committed a crime worthy of nothing but death. I sighed again and tried to find an excuse for what had happened. It had not been entirely my fault. Cher should not have been at my place that night. I countered the thought almost immediately. After all, she had resolved to find her way home that night but I had stopped her. I had gone all the way to the bus stop to persuade her to come back with me although it had been an action I took out of concern for her safety and especially out of irritation at BG’s insinuations. Yes! BG! Immediately, I began to build a mental blame-jail for my girlfriend. I had never imagined that what had happened between Cher and I could happen. It was BG who had started the senseless accusations on phone back in the bus. It was her that had made Cher feel so bad to the point of weeping and then in my bid to console her I had done a most stupid thing. BG had a part in this unfortunate occurrence. I suddenly found myself hating my girlfriend so much at that moment. If she had only been more trusting and given me the benefit of doubt, I would probably never have been pushed into doing something so wrong. In the deepest recesses of my mind, I knew I was making lame excuses but I shut up that part of me and chose to focus on what I wanted to focus on. It worked like magic. I proceeded to tie a towel around my waist

Cher must have felt some activity around her as she woke up and looked around the room. Our eyes met.
“Hi”, she said, trying to avert my gaze, her countenance betraying a hint of timidity.
“Hey”, I responded. “Hope you slept well?”
She nodded and looked at the clock on the wall. I followed her gaze and for the first time I remembered she was due to submit an assignment that day and should have been out of my house by 5 am. It was almost seven o’clock.
“Wow! Your assignment,” I said concernedly.
She sighed as she got up, pulling off the entire bed sheet with her to cover her nudity.
“I guess I’ve started paying for what we did last night” she said, smiling mischievously.
I was surprised and at the same time relieved. I had expected her to be as gloomy as death with the guilty feeling like I was feeling. I had wondered how we would be able to look each other in the face after what had transpired but here we stood making a casual joke about it. It was so comforting.
“Look, Geebee” she began. “About what happened last night, I’m sorry about it all but could we try to keep it away from BG?”
I looked at her in surprise. “Of course. You think I’ll tell her? That would be a most stupid thing to do.”
“Fine.” She said, as she sat on the edge of the sofa. “I really don’t know what came over me.”
I shrugged. “What has happened has happened. We just need to move on.” I said, trying my best to be in control as much as possible.
“Yeah.” She concurred. “I should get going. Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Sure, why not?” I said, pointing out the bathroom to her.

As she took her shower, my mind wandered to BG again and I wondered if indeed I would be able to keep the truth of what had happened between me and her sister from her and even if I did, how long would I be able to hide it? A month? Two months? Two years? What if we ended up together eventually? Would I be able to keep the truth from her forever? I realized only time would tell. I turned on my phone and barely a minute after; I received about five new messages. They were all from BG. She was full of apologies for accusing me and asked that I forgave her for over-reacting. She confessed that she loved me too much and was scared of losing me. The successive messages were follow-ups to preceding ones. In the last one, she asked that I called her as soon as I saw the messages. I hated myself so much right then and wished I could rewind time back to the very moment Cher had called on phone the previous day. I should have simply not picked up the phone!
“I think you should try to call BG.” Cher said as she emerged from the bathroom. Thankfully, she had put on her clothes before coming out.
I nodded. “Yeah I will. I’m just reading her messages.”
“Oh really? What did she say? More insults?”
I shook my head and passed the phone to her. She read on for a few minutes and sighed.
“Wow! We’ve been very bad!” she said as she handed back the phone to me.

As Cher left my place that morning, I knew somehow I would not be able to push her away for good. I admired her unique ability to stay detached and composed in spite of what had happened between us and I wished I had such a personality as well. I knew keeping the truth away from BG would be an uphill task but I also knew it was best if she didn’t know. What had happened with Cher was a mistake but I was not even convinced it was a mistake I would never repeat. As much as I tried to make the resolve, it did not feel strong enough. I knew the only person that could actually stop me from making that mistake again was Cher herself. I looked at my phone. It was time to call and make up with BG. Perhaps, that would be my saving grace, I hoped.