I swear the stores are out to get me. It seems they all sat down, putting aside all their differences to plan a comprehensive campaign”Get Fikayo to Go on a Hunger Strike for Material Gains.” How else do you explain this constant bombarding of my email address with news of SALES? It starts from 10% reduction, goes up to 20%, until it gets to 50%. Then they throw in the killer 75% off. I mean, who can argue with a 75% off or the “final clearance” magical phrase?


However, I had a secret weapon, carefully planned by the brilliant team in Barclays Bank; it’s  the Zero balance deadly nuclear power. Yipeee, I thought no supermarket in this world could beat a Zero balance, especially when it has the enchanting words of “no overdraft allowance” attached to it. Dorothy Perkins, Zara , Thomas Mayes Lewin (T.M. Lewis), Tommy Hilfiger and others won’t know what hit them, I thought. No New look, Gap, Next, T.K. Maxx would get it greedy hand on any penny on mine, for now. Ha Ha !!!, I saw their scary little faces when I unleashed my “Zero balance campaign”

I had even fought and won the battle of £20 for 6month BBM service by T-mobile. It was a sweet victory. I remember bringing out my pink blood soaked tongue, and wagging it at the fuchsia pink monster, saying “in your face!!! – No money for you until I can get free 200 minute UK calls for 2 month.” All I needed to do was load £10 on the 31st of this month and another £10 on the 1st of next month and I would be the King Kong of strategic voucher loading.

Until Lady Dorothy Perkins came with her silly email. It was shinny with colourful colours like free delivery, so I thought I could give it a go. Don’t give me that look, remember I was harmed with my Nuclear Zero Balance weapon. Hum, you guessed right; My Zero Balance weapon didn’t protect me against the ridiculously cheap lovely shoes on cheeky Dorothy’s website. You see, H&M is the king of Smugly Fitted Denim Jeans, New look is the Lady of Lycra Maxi Gowns but Dorothy! Dorothy is the Master and Queen of Killer Comfortable Shoes. Kitten heels, Block heels, Pencil heels, Platform shoes, Flat shoes, Winter boots. Oh, I need not go on, as I believe you’ve gotten the gist.

Dorothy had carefully selected the colours wanting in my shoe collection. Even the thought of winter didn’t stop me. I didn’t care that the shoes won’t see the light of day till next summer, when other new exciting designs would be dancing on sale. I had to speak to Barclays but there was no help from her. I think she was jealous that Dorothy didn’t have her size.

It took a powerful in-house discussion with internal organ Lady Heart, Sir Brain and Dr. Emotions (passion, love,…) to find a solution to this dilemma – a three letter word campaign “Landlord Can Wait”. I ran as fast as Miss Legs could carry me to Barclay to verify the legitimacy of my new solution. Lady Heart was beating fast and Sir Brain was screaming out his disgust as I placed some £££ in Dorothy’s hands. She smiled with a wink as she gave me a pot of  “Your payment has been processed Thank you for your order.”


Is it because you’ve been blinded with my kinds?

I mean copies of me.

The copies of me that wear as little as they can

to attract you and make you think

with muscles other that your brain,

body parts other than your heart.


Is it because you are confused

and trained to destroy everything that comes your path?

Is it because you’ve been taught

to believe you have to conquer

as many women as possible,

to be seen as potent,

to be treated as A MAN?


I must confess

I’ve also been lost.

Tired of waiting for you,

I ventured on the wrong path –

The path that led me to cover

all the virtues that I was taught to hold,

to hold sacred for you

The path that transformed my name

from Ruth to Jezebel.

I have been wounded, broken,

eaten and spat out

by copies of you.


Now all I want is

to wake up in your arms

to feel your lips on my cheek

saying good morning.

So, do hurry and find me.


For my heart is weary,

my bed is getting colder

and the days are

Unbearably longer.

Start from DEAR HUSBAND 1


I am not your perfect girlfriend or

your best buddy.

I am not the busty girl next door

or that slim shoddy in your office.


I am in fact

all these put together

but I am different from the rest of them.

I am your woman

the woman of your dreams

the woman –

you’ve not found.


I am the bone of your bone,

the flesh of your flesh.

The one made to love you

to obey you

to care for you

to stand by you

In all situations

whether it be oppression or elevation.


I am the one born to knee in prayer

for your safety,

your prosperity,

the salvation of your soul

and much more.


My purpose is to be the mother of your children

to guide your swimming seeds to my eggs

so that I can bring forth mini us

who will raise their little voices

to call you daddy.

Call you daddy

not because it’s a title

But because you are gentle

You are subtle

and you deserve to be called so.


So tell me young man,

if I am to be the rock behind you

and the reason you are called a man

Why have you not found me?




  • Don’t walk behind your girl; it indicates that you are only sexually attracted to her.
  • Don’t walk ahead of her; it shows you are not proud of her.
  • Your place is rather beside her on the side where she is kept off the road; it makes her feel you are strong enough to protect her.

  • Listen when she speaks; it helps to know you care about her and respect her opinion.
  • Talk to her about issues that are important to you; it makes her feel like she’s a part of your life.
  • Discuss her future with her; it makes her know that you want to be a part of it.
  • Guide her when she needs to make important decisions, it reinforces the fact that you are man enough to be with her.

  • Make casual contacts; it keeps your partner sexually alive and connected to you.
  • Don’t turn your back on her after sex, it show you care more about the physical intimacy of making love.
  • Don’t jump off to the bathroom when you make love; it seem you want to get rid of every trace of her as soon as possible

  • Show interest in the things she is passionate about; it shows you are compatible even with your differences.
  • Show her your world; it’ll make her feel closer to you.
  •  Ask for her opinion on pressing issues; it makes her feel you appreciate her judgement.
  • Introduce her to a couple of friends and families; it makes her feel like a part of you.

Lastly, do all these only if you see a future with her so that wrong messages are not sent or received.


                          I suffer from a severe “menu reader’s block.” It’s not like I have a disability preventing me from understanding the content of a menu. Although I must admit, the condensed form of a combination of strange and familiar food items can be overwhelming. Especially when you have a waitress with a forced smile standing over your head, asking
“are you ready to make your order?”
I assure you, I am very capable of comprehending the complex vocabulary inherent in the most sophisticated of Menus so comprehension isn’t the problem.

                Now, what could be the cause of my “menu reader’s block?”

After series of research, I found out my condition become severe when I’m at the restaurant with someone. It didn’t take time to discover the reason for the block when I’m by myself: the old indecisive alter ego2. She’s always responsible for all the decisions taking more that 30 minutes in the thinking box.

*The beauty of having an alter ego is that you can blame it for everything from your missing shoelaces to the late submission of an important project. Let’s not leave talk to talk talk; back to my hatred for menu reading.

Another series of research and fieldwork made me realise that alter ego 3 is responsible for my hatred for menu reading.  She’s the emotional one; prone to worrying too much and putting others’ needs before hers. Therefore, when I’m with someone paying, I let him/her pick the items synonymous to his/her pocket instead of making a selection. When I’m paying, I let the other diner select what is synonymous to his/her stomach and I remain undecided as a combination of our stomachs, most time, isn’t equivalent to my pocket and if that is not the case, alter ego 2 comes out with her inability to make a quick decision.

     Now, if I’ve ever gone dinning with you, you now know why I grunted at the sight of the sexy waitress swinging her hips to our table. I wasn’t jealous that your eyes were glued to her behind as she slowly walked away from the table, I was just battling with my alter egos’ and their “severe menu reader’s block”. If I’ll be dining with you in the future and I grunt at the sexy waiter matching to our table, trust me I’m not grunting at how the white shirt smugly fits and caresses the six pack vaguely visible behind his corporate wear; I am simply battling with my alter egos’ “severe menu reader’s block.”

              Finally, if I refuse to grunt, it means I have successfully put my alter egos to rest so you better

make a dash for the ATM machine or

do some transfer on your smart phone.

For mate!!!

I am about to eat horses.

If I’m your gracious host, you better take a few lessons from the alter egos I have laid to rest, because,


I’ll be speaking more than my mind if you select an item that is not proportionate to my pocket.

With this little advice, I sign out. Peace!!!

I too, am British

A 7 stanza free verse poem about being British. This poems makes light the issue of racism and process of blending into a new world; the struggle to be seen and not be seen.

I too, am British

You look at me as if I am different. Like
I am a slimy little alien, landed
from the depth of outerspace
to borrow your skin, suck your blood,
have your children for dinner.

Your children stare at me, I smile
at them, they hide behind your legs
maybe afraid I might smite them.
They think me different, they think
me not British, me different colours.

You hold them close, patting their
heads like puppies as if
to say, “I’m here, he can’t hurt you.”
You look to me, fire in your eyes
like a mother hen, watching a hawk.

You allri? I say, tilting my head
sounding as non African as I can,
daring you, telling you, proving to you
that I am no hawk, no blue blood
I too, am British.

The proof of my Britishness lies in the blank
taste of raw leaves- competing with goats.
No offence to you and now me
(the sole devourer of green leaves)-
only goats eats what you call salad
where I come from.
I too, am British.

My stomach is swollen with
swallowed alphabets from calling
Southwark, sordock, Leicester – lesta.
I have munched my name into a syllable
I who was “Olanrewaju” is now
the proud “Hola” of today.
I too, am British.

Isn’t it absolutely brilliant that my dictionary, has found new words like cheers, lovely, hayya.
statements such
You alri bruv?
Where about are you?
Slid out of my mouth like slugs.
I’m afraid I now
refer to friends
as mates and bruvs
I too, am British.

So even if my colour remains the same,
I too, am British.
from my twisted tongue,
to the words cascading the
walls of my cheek
and the content of my plate.
Don’t you dare tell me
“go back to where about you came from!”
For I too, Am British.

I too, am British


“The heart of man is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked” Jer 17:9.

 I did not understand or appreciate the meaning of the bible verse above until I watched a particularly disturbing video. A video that would remind anybody that ever attended a boarding school in Nigeria of the act of killing a snake. When you find a snake in your hostel, you stone it or find a big stick to crush its head before it can turn to bite you. Then you burn the dead snake. In this video, the actions of the actors were the same: only that it wasn’t a Nollywood film and the subject to be killed were not snakes but four young boys alleged of stealing? Killing? no one can say for sure.

I wonder what happened to a person being an “accused until proven guilty by the court of law” or the idea of “not taking laws into one’s own hand” I could not but wonder at the intensity of the hatred in the hearts of the young boys’ killers. One would doubt if these people didn’t  have a desire to kill before this incidence. They probably walk the night fantasying on the idea of taking a life; a life they cannot create. I fail to understand the brutality of the treatment meted out to these boys. I say beating is what you do with your hands, killing is what makes you carry sticks to crush fellow humans’ skull and dislocate their hips with heavy stones, then set them on fire while they still breathe.

The four boys (Chidiaka, Tekena, Lloyd and Ugonna )were students of University of Port Harcourt, killed for stealing laptops and phones or carrying out cultist activities or killing a villager in a robbery operation or …My point is, nobody is sure of their offence, for all it’s worth, they might have just been coming back from a student night out and simply fell into the wrong hands. This whole charade could have been planned by the community. It  won’t be the first time something like that has happened. Yes, the justice system of the country is messed up, but is becoming a criminal to correct a crime a sensible option? If the boys deserved the painful death they got, then their killers have become murderers and they deserve to be killed too; isn’t there a saying that states, “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword

Pictures show these boys alive, being killed and burnt. It shows an event that unfolded in the matter of hours, not minutes or seconds and no one in the crowd had any remorse. No one thought of a way to save the boys’ lives. No one thought of calling other students, the University Authority, the law enforcement agencies, churches, mosques or any other body. Maybe someone notified the authorities but they failed to respond, maybe no one did. We have all failed these boys. The community, the authorities, every individual that witnessed the event failed these boys and everyone who refuses to speak out after their death continues to fail them. I’m a writer and I’ll speak with my pen.

I say if I were at the scene, I would have probably been burnt with the boys, for my mouth would have spoken my heart before my brain can think of the danger to it host. I would have said, “Let him who has no sin throw the first stone.” I would have screamed on top of my voice. I would have fought with all I have or maybe I would have pretended to be dumb, in fear for my life. Whatever the case, we can never know, therefore, I say now, shame to those that cringed at the scene without voicing out, May they live with their conscience and the understanding that they could have saved a life but they didn’t. Shame on those that recorded it all, although they have brought to light this injustice, they have also remained silent in the face of imperfection and battle for life. Shame to the Authorities, for not protecting these young boys. Shame to the killers, may they never die, for justice awaits them and the blood of the dead boys is crying like Abel’s blood cried to God for vengeance.

I would say the truth is, many innocent people will be arrested on this issue, many guilty ones will be left untouched, many guilty ones will be arrested but will find a way out but a few guilty and unfortunate not guilty ones will dance to the tune. This is the country we live in and that is the plain truth. I said before and I still maintain, let the guilty not live, for there is blood on their hands and tears on their heads. Let them not die oo, for after death is judgement.

Rest in peace Chidiaka, Tekena, Lloyd and Ugonna

See videos, pictures and Read more about this here. I must warn that these posts contain disturbing and horrific graphics.