_ Welcome to molokwu peter blog: 2015-01-11 533df582-51e4-4b03-b04b-ecc0e5825ed4

Friday, 16 January 2015

AUNTY, BET WHY?

Article written by blog visitor .Its hilarious!That’s how I was in my room back in University one hot afternoon, lying on my back on the floor and wondering for the umpteenth time why I allowed my parents ‘maga’ me into going to school when I really wanted to be a footballer and earn my fame and fortune in the round leather game. Instead of lying morosely in this tiny-arse room thinking about my life, I woulda been chilling with phonee-speaking aunties in some exotic European city and living the life… I hissed in self-pity and rolled over to a pile of my dirty laundry and started searching the pockets of the clothes looking for any stray change I could use to buy lunch, no matter how meager.Nigga searched the clothes two times without luck. Modafoka clothes, no surprise stash when you really need it. I should burn the lot of you for disloyalty and lack of financial management skills. I eyed my two roommates who were sprawled across the room. Niggas were even broker than me so there was no hope there. Our footstuff had finished at the time, and we had only some sonofabeech ijebu garri without sugar to drink it. To make matters even worse, modafoka NEPA had taken ‘their’ light so someone couldn’t even play video game or watch a movie to console himself.Suddenly, my older cousin burst into the room and informed me that his mom was outside the hostel and wanted to say hi to me. Your mama ke? No be Yankee she dey, I asked myself. Yankee… Dollars… Better life for broke-arse students! Omo, see as your brother jump up wear im best cloth double quick. I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by me. My animal roomies sef got up to come and greet aunty. I come vess say if she see dem, she fit cut my ration dash dem money as per say dem be my guys. I almost yelled at them to go back, that she was my aunty not theirs. I sha boned the matter and briskly went out to meet her.She was standing beside the rental car that brought her, looking around the immediate surroundings and smiling broadly. I almost lay flat on the ground to greet her well, make she for dig hand inside purse dash me better money. As she open mouth talk, na so so phonee phonee dey commot. Ol’ boy, I too happy. Phonee = hard currency, nothing you want to say there. Anything she was saying, I was nodding my big head vigorously in agreement. ‘Nigeria is in Europe’, yes aunty! ‘There are 35 hours in a day’, yes aunty! Nigga, the hustle was real!By this time, a small crowd of hostel mates had gathered outside to see my cousin’s American mom. Modafokas were obviously expecting their own Dollars too. Nothing concern me sha, I was ‘family’ so my own share was guaranteed. That’s how aunty said she wanted to take pictures of us and the dense bush that surrounded the hostel so she could show her friends in the US how her son and his people lived and were schooling. Picture? No problem, aunty! Should we strike poses? Kneel down and raise my hands? Pretend I’m a monkey? Climb a tree and hang upside down? Anything you want, aunty just let me know and it is done damn quick. My hostel mates sef entered picture and were posing enthusiastically as she snapped away merrily. I’m sure I could hear a few stomachs growling in hunger as we posed for the picture, but I could be wrong…She finished snapping and used phonee to thank us, that she was going. Going? That’s good! Going meant it was time to dash money. That’s how aunty waved at us and entered inside the motor and was going true true. We looked at each other in amazement, like what the feck is going on here? I felt like Atiku did when Obasanjo screwed him out of the Presidential ticket in 2007. All that hard work was for naught? Modafoka!Suddenly I heard my name in a phonee accent and I subconsciously ran to the car that had moved off a bit and stopped. As I got to the owner’s corner window, she stretched out her arm and squeezed a few Naira notes in my eagerly anticipating palm with the advice that I study hard and be a good boy. As the car drove off, I looked into my palm and noticed that my blessed aunty had given me THREE MODAFOKING HUNDRED NAIRA! Three what the fack hundred Naira! Ol’ boy faint almost catch me. My roommates and some other niggas ran to me to demand their own share of the money and when they saw what was in my hand, dem sef shock. As we all stood there seized by temporary mental paralysis, someone noticed my cousin had alighted from his mom’s car and was making his way back to us. Some niggas rushed him and insisted that he settle us on behalf of his mom, and he agreed to, eventually buying like one crate of soft drinks and some bread or something retarded like that. I barely remember what I did with that fecking three hundred Naira.I haven’t greeted the woman since then…

Guest post:My God In Small Things.


These days, I find so much pleasure in the smallest things. Running by the beach and drinking in the lights from yachts, streetlights and neighboring cities. Sitting in a café and swimming in my thoughts while sipping tea. Saturday afternoons in museums. An email from a friend just to say hello and I miss you.

These small joys were the things I daydreamed about in law school. I would go to Starbucks with my huge books and stare with longing at the people who just came in to read a book, sip a latte and catch up with a friend. “Free-time” was a luxury that had to be carefully scheduled between 12-hour days and weekends spent in the library.

Wednesday, 14 January 2015

THE MANUEL RIVERA-ORITZ FOUNDATION 2015 DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHY AND FILM GRANTS. WIN $5,000

Cammile-Lepage-2014-MRO-Prize-Laureate

The Manuel Rivera-Ortiz Foundation has recently opened the 2015 call for submissions for documentary photography & film grants, inviting photographers and filmmakers in all countries to submit their best work.

Documentary photographers and filmmakers around the world are invited to submit documentary photography and film projects on the topics of human suffering and unrest, forgotten communities, exploited lands and people, on communities ravaged by war, poverty, famine, disease, and the exploitation of global resources.

Tuesday, 13 January 2015

I was offered N600,000 in exchange for my virginity



This article was culled from Naijasinglegirlblog...
I have been making most of my withdrawals across the counter since my ATM card got expired last month.
Anyway, I breezed into a random Diamond bank yesterday afternoon to withdraw money. Got the withdrawal slip and wrote out a whooping sum of two thousand, five hundred Naira. ( I had to spell it in full so the amount would seem huge)
My hands were stretched out nonchalantly to the female banker and when she raised her face to receive my slip, I recognise her as Seun, my room mate in my 200L.
‘Damn!” I cursed. Not when I am appearing this shabby.

Meet Popular Stylist Alexander Okeke .

 

Alexander Okeke is a fashion celebrity stylist,the third born of a family of seven ,he started styling recently and has worked at the Ecowas fashion week 2014,and Music Meets Runway 2014 among others.He is known for his impeccable and unique sense of style,he is quite a risk taker that is why most of his outfits always have something edgy about them.Speaking to him about his fashion sense he said ;His style is eccentric,daring,classy,and also elegance with a hint of drama just to keeps things interesting.....More pics below............