All in One Place:The Limericks of November

The Victorious Golden Eaglets

GEJ’s brought the rub of the green

The best footie days since my teens

MRIs or not

Three great goals, One shot

Our sorrows, tonight, they are lean

 

The Sacked, Unambitious $1m Ghanaian Minister

Ghana must go, so they went

And the last three decades have been spent

In doing stuff right

And fighting the fight

Of not letting government be bent.

 

Please stop referencing Ghana

And all Dramani’s Drama

While you eulogise

Our government denies

Being a republic of banana

 

Stella “Escapes”  Attack #Stellagate

She purchased those cars, not in jest

And also a bulletproof vest

The House’s report

Is just writing sport

Now sympathy trumps an arrest

 

Turned out the Beamer’s weren’t costly

And we were outraged unjustly

To questions about

Corruptional doubt

Our Prez has replied “robustly”

 

Birthday Blues

Twas Ol’Goody’s day yesterday

50yrs Oswald popped JFK

From school with no shoes

To buckets of booze

No surprise he was poorly today.

 

Christopher Kolade Resigned

Hear Chrissy has chosen to leave

Untainted, he’d have us believe

But all that is sure

SURE-P wasn’t more

Than an ace up ol’GEJs sleeve.

 

ASUU Wants Strike Pay

Did nothing for four months and one

It seemed like the striking was done

But they want to show

Much more than we know

The pen is a BROS to the gun.

The Roof, the Warriors and the Chocolate Teapot

STORY ONE

Once upon a time, there was a man who looked up and saw the roof of his house crumbling. “This roof will surely fall in,” he thought to himself. The next day, he thought about calling in a builder to take a look but decided against it. At any rate, the pressure from the external water tank, on the ground next to the kitchen was really poor. So he called a plumber instead, and the moved the tank from the floor and installed it on the crumbling roof. “This roof will fall in a few months’ time if you don’t reinforce it immediately,” the plumber warned the man. “I know.” the man replied. But the next week, he installed a large satellite dish on the roof and then moved his sofa right under the fault line in the ceiling. Damn, he thought, as he looked up from the sofa one evening into the widening crack in his ceiling, this collapse of this roof is imminent. And then he turned back to his program.

STORY TWO

The villagers at Poposhinshin village were in the middle of their daily feast, when a young man ran into the village square, panting. “Quick,” he said between pauses to gulp in air, “they warriors of Alajeju village are on their way here to attack us. They are still about two days away. What do we do?”

“Hmmm,” said the village chief, stroking his chin very slowly, “this calls for a meeting of the council of elders. We shall meet after the feast today.”

“Forgive me, my elders,” said the breathless man, now much more composed, “but what is there to meet about? They outnumber us 5 to 1, their weapons are far more advanced than ours. They are a village of giants. We must either flee or send an emissary with a peace offering to beg them.”

“You have spoken very well and we will consider all this at our meeting.” The chief replied.

At the meeting later on, the chief divided the council into two committees, one to look into the obvious and remote causes of the pending invasion, the other to propose ways of appeasing the Alajejus. The committees deliberated until sunrise the following day, when the spears, arrows and swords of the would-be conquerors could be seen glistening in the sun, just over the horizon.

All over the village, the mood was surprisingly calm as the glistening metal cluster drew closer to the village. One man decided to leave with his family that day, for Animashaun village. The Animashauns were more powerful than the Alajejus.

As dusk approached again, the people of Poposhinshin had begun to hear the stomping of the Alajejus. “We are doomed”, they casually remarked to one another. “When our village falls, these people might enslave our men and take our women as their wives.” Still very visibly unperturbed, they carried on as normal. The council of elders continued its meeting.

STORY THREE

Once upon another time, the people of Doofus discovered the gift of tea. The tea was brought to their village by a travelling European explorer, who was temporarily their king but was deposed when they decided they could rule themselves. They figured this tea was desirable, for the European had described to them all the wonders of this tea and how it made his own village so much different from and better than Doofus. While the European explorer was king, he dispensed this tea to them in small portions from his nice metal canister. After he left, they decided they needed this tea in much larger amounts.

But they didn’t know how to make tea. They had the fire, they had water, they had tea leaves. But they weren’t sure what to boil the tea in. The European explorer never showed them how he brewed his tea. Their day of triumph came when the council of elders proudly announced that they now knew how to boil the tea. The people of Doofus gathered and watched in amazement, as the elders produced a chocolate teapot and put it on the fire.

STORY FOUR

The people of Nigeria, when looking at the indices and benchmarks of a functional nation, have for a long time predicted the implosion (in a calamitous conflagration) of their nation. They do not flee. They do not fight the forces of the impending doom.

The Convention

*This piece is a work of fiction and the ribbing is intended to be in good humour.*

 

This story cannot begin without me telling how I got into the business; how I became a surgeon of destinies. Well, I am only in my first year or practice, so perhaps I’m still a resident or trainee surgeon but well on the way to being a consultant. Forgive the medical metaphors, I probably watch a little too much Grey’s Anatomy in my ever-shrinking windows of spare time. I’ve become much busier these days. And I digress.

One Sunday, at Church, rather than have a conventional sermon, the preacher invited a motivational speaker to talk to us about fixing all aspects of our lives, especially our marriages and careers and getting everything back on track. I was spellbound. I had just lost my job in the aftermath of the bursting of the banking sector bubble and had been trying to figure out the next phase of my life. After I heard the man who would later become my mentor speak, I knew what I wanted to do. I made sure I met the speaker after the sermon and spent the next 3 weeks begging him to let me be his personal assistant. I was well-educated enough and I was willing to work for absolutely nothing. Soon enough, I was taught the basics of the trade.

“First of all”, he said, “you have to dress and sound like the archetypical dream husband. You must be immaculately groomed. Low haircut, chiselled hairline, bespoke suits and a high-sounding but not too evangelical lilt to your voice.”

So I invested some of my bank severance money in 2 expensive suits, a killer pair of black leather shoes (the plan was to expand my shoe options once I got onto the speaking circuit), and cufflinks. My banker’s shirts had always been well cut, so no problem there.

“Next”, he said, “you must develop the ability to make the most mundane things sound unbelievably profound. The simpler the concept ostensibly sounds, the more profundity you can inject into it. Especially, most especially, if you rhyme.”

“Rhyme?” I asked. “Oh yes”, he replied, “to make it in the big time, you gotta learn to rhyme a rhyme.”

Fast learner that I am, I retorted, “You mean to win the bingo, I have to learn the lingo?”

“Precisely”, he said, laughing heartily. “You’re catching on very quickly.”

“What else must I learn in order to earn?” I asked eagerly.

“Calm down now”, he cautioned, “a gig isn’t a day at the crèche. Not too much rhyming. Remember, profound. There’s a thin line between profound and cheesy. A great Life Coach never crosses that line. Okay?” I nodded.

“You also need a treasure trove of scripture to buttress metaphors of increase and promotion. We are in the business of selling hope. Hope that if a person truly believes it, he can achieve it. Now, if you can garnish the hope with scripture, legitimise it so it doesn’t sound like being greedy or covetous, you cannot go wrong.

“For instance, the scripture says ‘Beloved, I wish above all things that you may prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers’. This clearly supports the aspiration to ‘go higher’, to ‘be better’. Our message is, if you hold on to God, it’s okay to also want prosperity.”

I nodded again, soaking it all in.

“Now, to the imagery. Again, it has to be crisp, catchy and validative of improvement in personal circumstances. So, lots of ladders…”

“You have to empty your bladder to climb that ladder?”

“Bladder, sha?” he asked, looking confused.

“Well, if you take the bladder as an organ that removes harmful things from our blood, the statement could be symbolic of purging oneself of the harmful things in one’s life – vices like smoking, excessive drinking, womanising…”

“You know what?” said my mentor, “let’s forget the ladders. How about mountains?”

“There’s a fountain beyond that mountain?”

“Dude, calm down. That’s not profound enough.”

“I respectfully disagree, sir. Finding a fountain after a mountain symbolises a reward, perhaps a divine one even, after the struggle of, well, surmounting the mountain. In  fact, how about ‘surmount the mount to reach the fount’?”

“No, no, no, no! Forget mountains, then.” For some reason, my mentor seemed upset. “Let’s think altitude, you know, a variable height.”

“Someone’s already done that. Your attitude determines your altitude? Haven’t you heard that one before? Aspire to go higher? Acquire the fire? Perspiration determines your elevation?”

“You know what?” my mentor said, taking in a deep breath as if to calm himself, “there’s a Life Coaches convention in Abuja next week. Newbies like you can attend the 2-day course and become Associate Members of the Chartered Institute of Motivational Speaking and Life Coaching. More than anything else, there’s a chance to meet other mentors. Much greater coaches than myself. Perhaps they might be able to show you an even better way.”

So here I am at the convention in Abuja. It was during the flight that I decided that I wasn’t going to be a mere life coach – I was going to be a surgeon of destinies. It sounded profound enough. I had also started working on a mantra that I wanted to run by the coaches at the institute, but I won’t bore with you with it.

As I enter the convention auditorium, I hear an attendee ask his colleague if he would like a coke. The colleague replied, “Not for me. A coke will make you choke, but a Fanta is made for banter.”

Ah, I say to myself. I am in the right place.

Good King Flashoslas

 

Flashoslas

 

Good (?) King Flashoslas looked out o’er the Lekki people

With the 4-eyed man he thought, let us fleece the people

Widen roads and build a bridge, then exact full measure

For a quarter century, jingling pockets, pleasure.

 

What if they revolt, F said, could we still withstand them?

Do not fret your little head, we will just disband them.

Bring out tanks and sub-machines, gas to end their gathering

When they beat a full retreat, there’ll be no more blathering.

 

And, the 4-eyed man went on, see their feeble leaning

Gutless, rudderless and poor, full of empty steaming

They are well-renowned, you see, for a deep resilience

After feeble mutiny, they’ll accept their sentence.

 

-Timmy Flowers, 1734 -1862