THICK RED LIQUID

I lay there quietly without disturbance. Then I heard the noise, no, bangs. I'm used to bangs. In fact, things do not form and fall in place if there ain't bangs.
Innocuously I thought things were only taking form and being created.

It started in the garage.
The engine roared softly and was put to bed as usual. They always put her to bed before going to bed themselves. Humans, even when their babies are still awake crying, the engine would have been long asleep.
Something tells me they care about their engines more than anything else because they make certain she rest first.

Adamu slammed the door to the 2016 Toyota Tundra full-size truck and punched on the lock button on his keys. His countenance had switched from belligerent anger towards the crazy traffic on the island to a sanctimonious calm -at least on the surface.

His wife Jeanne was on the phone, she chattered away heartily on the black leather sofa without noticing her husband behind her.

"Oui, it's complicated now Dave, and you know it. I'm already married. We can't be doing this anymore." she said in a sweet feminine voice that portrayed affection towards the caller.

Adamu couldn't believe this Dave could still reach his wife. He had changed all her lines when she got back from Paris and also closed all her social media accounts before opening a new one for her in a different name. She was brand new like a virgin.
How on earth did he come to get her again? Or did she contacted him? He was confused.

"Est-ce qu'il l'est encore? (is that him again?)" Adamu asked.
Jeanne was startled but immediately got up to welcome her husband. She had disconnected the line and put the phone on the glass center table.

"Mon amour" she said.
Scenes of models like Jeanne parading themselves in see-through dresses displayed on the ultra slim 52-inch TV.

"Tu m'as fait peur! You scared the hell out of me." Jeanne said and spread her arms wide in warm embrace and tried to kiss Adamu but he turned his cheeks and she pecked him.

"Is that him again? The Dave guy" Adamu repeated. His anger had returned and he looked at her disgustingly.
What craze made me marry a white woman? He seemed to ask.

"What is it Adamu?! Qu'est-ce que c'est? I'm sick and tired of all you jealous Nigerian men." she said and turned to return to her seat when Adamu grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him. She staggered and he added to her staggering equipoise two resetting slaps. Perhaps, he thought, it would teach her that African men do not tolerate nonsense and romanticised rubbish from their wives.

This was when the pounding and banging started. Like I said, I thought they were creating art. (Please do not ask me how I got to know all these, I have my ways, and besides, there are walls everywhere, and walls they say got ears.)

First it was raised voices, threats of divorce and cops and jail.
Then a crash followed; it was the sound of glass against concrete.

"How dare you break my center table!"

"How dare you slap me?!"

She picked a fragment of the broken ruins and aimed it at Adamu.
Shit!
She missed.

Jeanne rushed to pick another but Adamu was fast enough to carry the blonde witch away from the ruin of glass and put her on his shoulder.
He was determined to throw her out of his house before she destroyed all his expensive properties.

Jeanne scratched and punch and bite, but she was nothing but a baby throwing tantrums at a muscled young man.

"Today, you sleep on the streets! Mad woman!"

Beside the staircase was a ceramic flower vase, and Jeanne was quick enough to lift it and smash it on Adamu's head.
He threw the French witch away and she darted towards the kitchen. Adamu took a moment to recover from the shock and then skittered to the kitchen.

"Sortez de chez moi votre prostituée Française!"

He staggered into the kitchen and a speeding knife whoosh past his face just INCHES away!
She then picked a bowl of fruits on the kitchen table and threw it at him, but Adamu blocked it with his left arm and it crashed against the fridge, causing various fruits to scatter here and there.

Adamu then caught his wife by the neck, almost choking her to death. He was hot. Jeanne gasped, her eyes shot red reached for anything beside her but there was nothing.

Adamu pushed her to the far wall and pinned her there.
They were both desperate. Something hot was running through their veins.

Jeanne reached out again for anything and this time she caught a cold pot of chicken stew on the gas cooker and splashed it all over him, closing her eyes in the process as they both took a fair share of the peppery bounty.

"Aaaarrrggghhhh!... My eyes! You witch!..." Adamu yelled and reached for the basin.
Just then Jeanne caught me -the pestle.
She gave Adamu heavy blows on his head as though he were cooked yam.

The muscled young man then fell to the ground like a defeated pack of cards, each body part awkwardly splaying on the ground.

Then the spirit left her. I believe it's a spirit because she gently put me on the kitchen table. That was when I got my chance to rebel. She had separated me from my wife and made me cheat on her.
All my life I had pounded only her; but today, that has changed. I pounded something else, and worse still, it was a 'he'. Yuck!

I rolled on the kitchen table, knocking everything I came in contact with askew. We all dropped on the tiled floor with varying degrees; some crashed, others bounced.
I didn't crash or bounce, I rolled till I was stopped by the treacherous gas cooker, that was when I had a view of Jeanne. She knelt beside Adamu, her hands smeared in thick red liquid.
Humans call it blood, but we call it the thick red liquid, and it made humans do the things they regret when it is hot.

~Angel Messi~
Photocredit: Google

Adventures of TEACHER CHIKE

TEACHER CHIKE

April 2000

Bisi: Teacher Chike good evening sir
Teacher Chike: Bisi how are you?
Bisi: I’m fine sir thank you sir.
Teacher Chike: how is your mother and siblings? Is your father back from Kaduna?
Bisi: they are fine sir. Baba is not yet back sir.
Teacher Chike: Alright. So how may I help you young man?

Bisi scratches his head, brought out his books and began to stammer

Bisi: Eeerrrr… Ssir… I mean… I…

Teacher Chike checks his Sagem phone and smiles; the time on the blue screen read: 15 minutes to 7pm. He had an appointment with the local government Chairman at 7:15pm.
Bisi is one of Teacher Chike’s students and he was a serious fellow with a bright future; Teacher Chike was sure of it and this endeared Bisi to him. If any student needed academic help, Teacher Chike was more than enough –he taught mathematics, English, chemistry, physics, further mathematics, geography, English literature and history— gas for their engine.
Teacher Chike collects the mathematics textbook from the stammering Bisi and ordered him to grab a chair at the backyard.

Teacher Chike: please be fast I have a meeting with the chairman at seven fifteen.

Bisi skitters to the backyard in delirious excitement. He knew Teacher Chike was the only one that could help him pass his WAEC and also gain admission into the university.

The following day, Teacher Chike woke up as early as possible and proceeded to the Chairman’s house. He and Bisi had revised into the wee hours of morning. He even had to prepare concoction rice and boiled egg for the boy when he realized he was no longer concentrating. He had also managed to call Bisi’s mother on her landlord’s phone, informing her that Bisi was with him and would be coming home as early as possible in the morning before going to write his exam.  Mama Bisi was happy and full of prayers for the school teacher, “May God bless our teachers…” she said repeatedly over the line while her landlord stood over her refusing to give her any room for privacy. “…most especially you Teacher Chike. One day, you will become the honourable minister of Eductaion.” she added.

Teacher Chike on getting to the Chairman’s house was informed by his wife that the Chairman had travelled to Abuja yesterday night. Teacher Chike then collected the Chairman’s number and called him immediately.

Teacher Chike: Hello Mr. Chairman Sir, good morning sir. This is Chinua Ikemefuna
Chairman: yes good morning, how may I help you?
Teacher Chike: sir I was supposed to see you yesterday sir, it is me Chinua Ikemefuna.
Chairman: Chinua?... See me?... Yesterday?... How? Chinua from where?
Teacher Chike: Chinua from Orile sir, your constituency sir.
Chairman: Chinua… chinua… I can’t re…

Teacher Chike cuts in.

Teacher Chike: it is me sir, Teacher Chike.
He said rather sheepishly.
Chairman: Oh oh oh… Teacher Chike!

The chairman exclaimed and started laughing

Chairman: which one is Chinua chinua that you were now saying since morning? Chinua bawo? I was even beginning to think that you are the descendant of Chinua Achebe. You should have just said Teacher Chike. Finish. Story close. Ahan…

They both laughed over the line at the Chairman’s supposed hilarious joke, the chairman’s laugh a little too loud that Teacher Chike had to remove the receiver away from his ear for a second before returning it.

Chairman: I waited for you yesterday till around past eight. What happened? I didn’t have your number I would have called. We were supposed to travel together yesterday night so we can see the minister for Arts and Culture.

The chairman paused, cleared his throat, and then continued.

Chairman: we had a deal and I recommended you to him. Unfortunately you couldn’t make it. I am afraid the deal is now off. I’m sorry Teacher Chike, I really tried to lock it down for you but the minister insists on seeing you. He said you weren’t serious.

Teacher Chike was bathed in perspiration at this shocking revelation even though the air conditioning in the chairman’s living room was at 98% efficiency.

Teacher Chike: Eerrr…Sss…Ssir…Pplee….
Chairman: Don’t worry when I come back we’ll look for other opportunities ok? Please I have to go now, I have a meeting. Thank you Teacher Chike.

(Phone disconnects)

Chairman’s Wife: Teacher Chike are you okay?

Teacher Chike stared blankly at his phone.

Chairman’s Wife: Teacher Chike?

Teacher Chike stood up silently and found his way out. He had a little problem with the doorknob which the Chairman’s wife noticed and quickly jumped to his rescue.

Chairman’s Wife: don’t come and spoil door for me biko

She mumbled under her breath as she shut the door.

Later that evening, after visiting his friend Papa J the palm wine seller, his mood became lively and light. “What troubleth thou? Come to me, my burden is featherweight, and the bees will make lightweight of your worries.” Papa J had said to Teacher Chike that morning when he saw him downcast.

Teacher Chike tarried at his place till he was wiped out. On getting home he crashed onto his double decker bed without removing his clothes. He woke up hours later and tried to eat a roasted corn he found at the top corner of his bed. --He had no idea how it got there but he was sure he bought it with his money on his way back from Papa J’s. The corn was harder than stone; he thought he’d have better luck munching stones than eating the damned thing. He later threw it into the waste bin and stepped out to enjoy the cool evening breeze.

Some minutes later Bisi joined him.

Bisi: Teacher Chike good evening sir!

Bisi said and saluted. He stood rooted at a spot and banged his left foot on the concrete floor.
Teacher Chike smiled faintly, he still felt the effect of the mixed palm wine and stout he took at Papa J’s, coupled with the heartbreaking news from the Chairman.

Teacher Chike: How was your exam Bisi?

Bisi dragged a bench and sat beside him.

Bisi: Sir the exam was awesome!

His face lights up.

Bisi: everything you taught me came out and I solved them all. It was just like I was solving past questions. Some were even word for word! Thank you sir!
Teacher Chike: those people do not have questions again. They keep recycling old questions I wonder how some students still fail. Anyways, when you are also about to write your JAMB just come let’s revise. Those ones too do not have questions. Back in the days when WAEC and JAMB was still WAEC and JAMB who born monkey?

Bisi chuckled. He checked his wristwatch and mumbled something about his mother sending him on errand so he had to leave. Teacher Chike just nodded as Bisi left. The news brought to him a fresh air of hope.

Just then, Rauf passed by and also came to greet Teacher Chike

Rauf: Aah! Master! Master de master! Good evening sir.

Teacher Chike shakes his head in unbelief at the sight of his most troublesome student. His one-sided tucked in uniform was meticulously starched and ironed. The right leg of his trousers was slightly folded making his trousers uneven in length.

Rauf was trouble and everybody avoided his ‘wahala’, but he feared and respected Teacher Chike. –that was the only person that would sneeze and Rauf will catch a cold.

Teacher Chike: you and this your hilarious way of dressing, Rauf!

Teacher Chike said and laughed out loud.

Rauf: Master de Master! Twakasa fun master!

Rauf said. This time around he raised both hands in the air and stomped his feet simultaneously like a convivial baboon showing off its territoriality to a prospective mate.

Teacher Chike: how was your exam today?
Rauf: Master that exam no be here o! It was very hard. E hard die!
Teacher Chike: Hmmm… Rauf… but I told you to see me last week so we’d revise. You never showed up, and had since been avoiding me –literally.
Rauf: Master it’s not like that. Just that this school thing ehn… e get as e be master I no go lie sir.
Teacher Chike: Hmmm… God will help you oo! Heaven knows I tried my best on you.
Rauf: HA! Master! Heaven know ooo! Aye gan know! Walahi! Twale! Ehn! Master de master! Twakasa!

17 Years Later…

A black Range Rover Evoque 2016 with darkened windows cruised into the suburb of Orile Iganmu. The streets were waterlogged from the heavy downpour of the past three days, and it is believed to continue like that for the next four days. It is mythically referred to as the seven days rain.

Teacher Chike returning from school; his peeled off brown leather folder was glued to his underarms. He wore patched baggy chinos on a faded cream shirt with extremely faded collar.
He stopped at the roadside to buy ‘ubeni’ –fresh roasted corn.

The man in the black Range Rover removes his shades just to be sure he still possesses eyes that sees.

Bisi: Is that not Teacher Chike?

He asked his wife.

Wife: who is Teacher Chike?
Bisi: that man buying roasted corn at that junction.

He says, pointing in the teacher’s direction.

Bisi: He used to be my teacher and tutor back in the days. The man was so good there was nothing he couldn’t teach. He even taught French and Chinese.
Wife: Hmmm… Bisibisibisi… Muule! Nla nla ni! Drop it! Akika!

His wife said and laughed. Bisi frowned, his brows furrowed in concentration at the long lost teacher and his wife immediately stopped laughing

Wife: Eeyah… that’s one of the problems we have in this country. We seldom appreciate our teachers except on teachers’ day when they suddenly become overnight broke celebrities.
Bisi: I’m telling you honey, this government is just crazily inert when it comes to matters like these, yet they keep spending billions of naira on schizophrenic doofy pilgrimages.

He said and cruised away.

Teacher Chike bought three roasted corns and was busy negotiating a fair price when Rauf met him at the junction.

Rauf: Ha! Maaaaaaaster! Master de master! Twakasa fun master!

Teacher Chike was embarrassed. Rauf had become a notorious highway thug who collects money forcibly from commercial motorists at Mile 2. He wasn’t proud of him and avoided him should the slightest chance suffice.

Rauf: Ha… Master don’t worry…don’t worry… I’ll pay. How much be the thing wey master buy?

He asked the corn seller.

Corn Seller: Two hundred naira.
Teacher Chike:  Haba… Rauf don’t sweat it I have change let me pay.
Rauf: Noooo… sweat bawo? With all this rain wey de fall fall every time how I wan take sweat? Oooh…master lasan… lailai… just let me pay jejely.

He gave the girl a five hundred naira bill

Rauf: Oya take this figo gimme change.

He then brought out two five hundred naira notes and expertly folds it in his hand and squeezes it into Teacher Chike’s left pocket like a typical commercial motorist would do when caught by a police officer.

Rauf: Master abeg take this one gum body. Please don’t say no.

Teacher Chike reluctantly voiced his thanks. He had wanted to buy the corn on credit before Rauf’s intervention shifted his shame a day farther.

Teacher Chike: Thank you Rauf, thank you.

Teacher Chike mumbled under his dry breath, and said a silent prayer for him.

~Angel Messi~

POWER THINKING

Everyone should be a writer.
One of the benefits of being a writer is that you are PERMITTED to THINK.

When you sit to think, it is common amongst us to hear words like:
"What are you thinking?"

"No kill yourself oo... Wetin you de think?"

"Kí lon ro?"

"E go better, no think am."

"Ọ gịnị? Nna no kee yoursef ooo... Life goes on." Blahblahblah.... 

But as a writer, it is believed that you await inspiration. The Muse! *plays Handel Messiah *

However, it is extremely important you practice power thinking for at least 20 minutes daily.

What then is POWER THINKING?

Firstly, I must warn you,
DO NOT confuse depressed/worried thinking to power thinking.
Depressed thinking births negativity and can even lead to suicide. (common amongst celebrities & addicts.)
While Power thinking birth solutions, practical way-forward and positives.

Power thinking is a process whereby information is processed and sorted into different groups and subgroups according to their level of importance and urgency so as to carryout effective actions.

It is clear that power thinking is needed. Why then is it hard and difficult?

Dr. Robert Cialdini said, "there is no expedient to which a man will not resort to avoid the real labour of thinking."
To think is thorough work and we most times seek shortcuts.

Therefore, I join my voice to the million of successful coaches, motivational speakers, authors, entrepreneurs, and businessmen & women to say to you that "there is no shortcut to success."

If you need it, work your butt off for it.

And always remember that it is better to have your nose in a book than in someone else's business. 

Eat Your Food

Based on true life events.

Going home yesterday, outside a two-storeyed building with washed-out  cream painting, a little girl washed dirty plates; and gathered in front of her were three hens waiting for 'the catch'.

It is normal to have leftovers whenever dirty plates are being washed
hence, the hens must be aware of this minute fact because they hovered patiently.

The little girl not minding the gathering of fowls threw dirty water on the street just where the hens were gathered.
The hens darted for the catch in a flash.
It was a competition of fastest beaks.

Two hens caught the bounty, and the last was left with nothing.

The winners ran to a safe place to eat, and the third, having nothing, tagged along.

The first hen dropped its bounty to eat when it noticed the third coming for it, it picked it quickly and ran.

All the while, they all followed themselves with clenched beaks and hopeful beak.

Then something remarkable happened.
The first hen dropped its food to eat and the second hen immediately left her food for the first hen's bounty.

The first hen, smart and fast picked her food and ran yet again.
The second hen then returned to her food to pick it up,

but guess what?

Hopeful beak was now clenched and nowhere to be found.

Then I said to myself, "look at this mumu fowl. You no chop your food them don come carry am go. Olójú kòkòrò."

That was when the Angel spoke to me and said,

"Angel Messi, finish your food first before looking for another."

What food do you have in your plate?

Eat your food.

Don't be like one Òyìnbó man that went to a Nigerian wedding and was mixing àmàlà, eba, rice, beans, abula and soup.

Come on... Who does that? (àwọn oyinbo ló maa n does that.)

So I put it to you this afternoon, or evening, or whatever time it is you're reading this,
Eat your food, then the strength gotten from the meal can be used to find another.

And always remember that it is better to have your nose in a book than in someone else's business.

~Angel Messi~

BIG EYES

BIG EYES

The movie, based on true life events was produced by Tim Burton and had Amy Adams as Margaret Keane and Christoph Waltz as Walter Keane.

Margaret, a born artist, had just two things in her life: her daughter and her painting. Being separated from her first husband, she was left with the responsibility of taking care of her only child which brought about desperation. She found herself in a furniture company, and in order to be unique, she started drawing on the beds portrait of kids with ‘big eyes’.

This was her art. Her paintings had eyes that were way out of proportion.

But guess what? People loved it.

Then along the line, she met Walter Keane who also claimed to be a painter and he asked Margaret about herself and the inspiration behind the big eyes.
Margaret said, “We can see things with the eyes and it was how she expressed her emotion.”
She also revealed she had an ear infection when she was a kid and this caused her to stare at people then, making her eyes pop.

The story then took a new turn, Margaret and Walter got married. You know the camaraderie that follows a bite from 'the bug'. Sweetness.

Margaret continued her painting but Walter took the credit. Margaret was shy, and a good salesman must get rid of all shyness. Margaret wasn’t a saleswoman, it would have been better if she was even bad at being a saleswoman. She just wanted to paint.

They made money, bought a mansion, bought cars and all sort of good things. The good life eh?

Things really was sweet and rosy, especially for Walter who had to sign autographs and grant interviews; but for Margaret, she only had money –her only friend was chased by the dubious Walter- and her studio, where only her and her husband could enter. No one must know that Walter wasn’t the painter of Big Eyes - - not even Margaret's daughter.

Walter Keane’s works however was rejected by the Society of Western Artists. They rejected him and his works, even though his works were popular and making sales.

My favourite part however was when Walter and Margaret were divorced and Jehovah witnesses came to preach the good news to Margaret at her new home far away from her ex-husband. Margaret found a new peace after the message and her life became new.

She was now proud of her works and sued Walter for libel and slander. The court after clear processes went in favour of Margaret who was the true artist, and for the first time in her life, she signed an autograph.

She was free and happy. The same works that the Society of western Artists rejected was accepted by them when the true artist emerged. They knew Walter to be a con man.

It is noteworthy to state here that nothing about Margaret’s painting changed, what changed was her mindset towards her painting.

So whatever it is you might be doing, keep at it and be a master in it. (I believe what you are doing is legal anyway.) Be proud of your works, and with time the world will peep from those big eyes of yours.

~Angel Messi~

Something Good is Happening

SOMETHING GOOD IS HAPPENING

This song by Brymo inspired me and brought about this post after Jc T Why sang it like an alcoholic...lol


Thank goodness we are out of recession.

We are, right?

Things are a lot better and easier now I guess --things really are getting better.

Forget the fact that our dear President has been away for a while; it’s for our own good.

Let me quickly add as it is kukuma trending already --“The Lion King will surely return.”

The hyenas will cower back to their caves.

Who born monkey or better put, who born hyena?

Although our questions about the health status of our dear president met auto-deleting bots, notwithstanding, we wish our President well and hope he returns safe.

Anyways, I’m here to do amebo about something amazing that is happening in Nigeria at the moment.

It’s been up for a while and the stats keeps improving.

Before we start, it is with utmost joy and pride that I inform you that a dollar is now 315 naira.

Isn’t that amazing? Considering the insane rate some few months ago? That’s good news!

Yes… I know… purewater is still N10 and garri is N900.

But guess what?

Something good is happening.

Do you know that in your hands right now is a tool capable of creating enormous wealth and change?

Yes, that phone, it really is that smart.

Internet statistics reveals that Nigeria is the 7th country with the most internet users in the world!

More than 16 million Nigerians are active on Facebook.

Do you know what that means?

Okies let me break it down.

Nigeria has a population of about 186,879,760 and 97,210,000 people uses the internet, and 16,000,000 people are active on Facebook.

Now if 10,000,000 people were to be saying the same thing over and over again, that ‘topic’ would be classified as ‘hot and trending.’

Stick with me now, this ain’t mathematics –I know you hate maths, I do too.

This hot and trending topic gives the executives and legislators no choice than to listen and address such issue even when they ordinarily wouldn’t.

Herein lies the power of the internet and Social Media.

It has changed the course of Relationships
It has changed the course of Businesses
It has changed the course of Education
It has changed the course of Governance

The average Nigerian therefore passionately defends her territory on Zuckerville.

She screams, and would even throw tantrums when something/someone irks her online space.

This sense of being is powerful in its own natural state because the Nigerian voice is now like never before stronger and clearer.

We might not be there yet, of a truth we are not there yet; however, we are on the right track and it’s just a matter of time before something revolutionary happens.

Fellow Nigerians, the Angel says: whatever you do, stay black and stay Nigerian.

Believe in the Nigerian dream because dreams do come true. #DDCT

Something good is happening…. help me sing it lala lala!.

Angel Messi

Angels Everywhere

...and the Angel of the Lord said:

Ask and you shall be given, knock and the door shall be opened, seek and you shall find.

What you SEEK, that you will FIND.

How can one find an angel in a world full of demons?

It is common to find men every weekend dressed in radiant apparels as they swagger to a relative or friend's wedding.

Yoruba demons some call them.
Ibo angels others tagged.
However, you might wanna ask, are the Yoruba's truly demons or Ibo's angels?

It depends on what you seek I'll say.

SEEK AND YOU SHALL FIND.

Your guess is as good as mine, you are what you seek.

I believe you being here and reading this explains to you how much of an angel you are than a demon.

Now think about a world full of angels...(plays Handel Messiah's "Glory to God")

Aha!!! Heaven on Earth.

You'd agree that we can finally eradicate poverty with more angels than just talk about it.

We can live as brothers and sisters and not let religion or politics tear us apart.

We can finally sleep with our eyes closed and not worry about a loved on under siege.

We can live in peace and unity.
One love keeps us together; don't sing it in songs; live it.

We crave for one Africa, yet we kill ourselves in xenophobic attacks.

We preach oneness and unity, yet we decline ourselves visas in an attempt to see the wonders of the world.

Where then is the unity?

Africa unite.
Nigeria unite.
Youths unite.
For what shall it profit a man to cause strife and lose his life.

United we stand, and you can only help a sister whilst you stand.

Be an Angel, and see angels multiply.

Angels Everywhere.
You are one.