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Why Start A Blog

Max Pixel

This is an entry for contest for bloggers.

Have you ever seen someone become very successful at something? So successful that you cannot help but wish some of it for yourself? Well, I have. I was a two hundred level university undergraduate when the blog craze hit my campus. Everyone suddenly had a blog; at least everyone I know.

There was this guy in particular, Lukman Fassasi (lukmanfassasiblog.com). His blog was very popular. I browsed through the blog and thought to myself, “Gray, you can do this!” But nah, I decided to pass.

Next thing I knew, my friend opened a blog too. He was into entertainment news/music/fashion/lifestyle. I watched in amazement as he gradually became popular too. Well, he wasn’t as popular as Lukman but that didn’t matter. That was when I decided to take the plunge

I began blogging because I wanted to be popular

If I remember correctly, I had about 30 hits on my first blog post. It was something I copied off a news website. I felt awesome. If only I knew that many people had clicked on it out of ‘sympathy’. you see, I actually shared the link with my whatsapp contacts. Well, I believed I was well on my way to fame.

My next blog post wasn’t so popular. I can’t remember exactly what it was but I am sure it wasn’t something related to entertainment. Long story short,by the fourth post, I was tired of it all. I was practically begging people to click my links. At that point, I needed another reason to continue blogging.

I continued blogging to showcase my works

Soon, I began to do flash fiction and poems. I used to share them on social media. It then occurred to me that I could be posting my works on my blog. Of course, I had to send the links to people individually but there was no rush. It wasn’t like news. It was exhibiting my art.

Soon, I began to have quite the patronage. Nothing grand, of course. But some people began to enjoy what I write. For a long time, I would have between 30 to 100 views on a post. On trending posts, I could have up to 130.

At this time, I had given up on trying to be popular. I simply needed a platform to express myself.

I blog these days for the sake of it

I no longer blog, at least not everyday. Why? I have a blog on Steemit. You know, it feels like extra work to post on Steemit and then post on my blog. I rather post on Steemit and share the link. Some people complain that they aren’t able to comment (as they aren’t Steemit users). I don’t know what to do about that.

And that’s why I started blogging (and still blog)

Thanks for reading.

The Last Letter

Dear Martha,

I wonder if you still feel the same way about me; although I admit I have always been about me. Remember that night we walked on and on? The night before the world fell in love with my song. You told me if I ever felt like I was alone, I shouldn’t hesitate to call home. I wonder if that offer still stands, if you’re still waiting with open hands. I wanted to talk to you before the magazines got to you. But every time I try, I can’t always reach you. All of my new friends are fake and don’t last, I guess it’s why I’m reaching back to my past. I always felt amazing when I was in the crowd and when I’m alone the silence becomes too loud. I wonder if I should start another paragraph, but I did attached a photograph. I’ve never been good with writing and I’m scared I might say the wrong thing. The picture isn’t complete and you know it. I pushed you away and I regret it. The picture is for you, before the magazines get to you. You’ll read a lot of nasty things about me, things I don’t want you to imagine when you think about me. I have a lot of bruises so I used a lot of make-up, a far cry from the girl you knew when we broke up. I just want to know I always loved you; I swear, even God knows those words are true. I’ve lost everyone I know but you. Please forgive me so I’ll find peace in the other world

Jenny

I Still Love You

Source


It started when Salima walked in with a smile on her face
She sat on the bed and looked me straight in the eyes
My room-mate winked and gave us the room in haste
I walked to the wall and turned my face to gaze

She wanted to start but couldn’t find the words to use
I smiled because I had stolen the words and her muse
But the smile was only a shadow of what would come
It was like soft wind and drizzle and then rainfall

“If I told you I love you, would you think I’m telling the truth?”
I wondered if she was talking to me or sending a whatsapp note
I wanted to turn to look at her but my legs had turned to ice
That itself would have been a bad idea as tears had filled my eyes

“you know why I’m here and turning away wouldn’t change it”
I turned to her, murmured and hit the wall in frustration
She smiled and stood up, picking her bag as she rose
I returned to the wall and felt her shadow coming close

I remembered a scene from the movie she had asked me to watch
The girl had turned to the guy, kissed him on the cheek and said:
“it takes an extraordinary girl to make a bad guy like you change;
I tried to break you but I only succeeded in breaking my heart.”

Just then the bathroom opened and my neighbour appeared in a towel
Salima smiled and said: “I’m not surprised. I’ve given up on you”
I turned to protest but tongue and mouth had gone on strike
“don’t bother” she said. “I’m leaving. I quit. But I still love you”

Iced Love

Source

I first heard your melody
Through the window of my room
It was a heavenly symphony
Planting a love that would bloom

Our love grew like a tree
Planted beside a rushing river
One year turned to three
And the sun smiled on in approval

Then you longed for another
So you took your warmth away
Ice grew in the weather
It began too cold for the sun to stay

The river froze to a still
Yellow leaves began falling from above
My love is iced and still
And will remain regardless of your love

Green Eyes

Image source 

It was the first thing Sharon heard: the cackle of laughter she could always recognise. She struggled against the choking happiness to breath, her eyes melting into tears. He had swore it would never happen again; she had promised herself she would not take personal if it did. Her shameless emotion dis-robbed and she could see her bleeding heart reflect on the window panes. She had come in through the kitchen and the smell of macaroni had filled the air. She had seen the chopping board on the table and onion peels. She walked slowly into the living room and the happiness invaded her lungs causing her breathing to become ragged and raspy. She saw her looking at a half-finished painting, her face filled with excitement. Sharon dug the knife first into her and then her husband when he turned to her in horror. She then bent to pick up the picture; the picture of her twin sister. What she saw forced her to bury the knife in her stomach. The picture was the face of her twin, but the eye was green and her sister’s was blue.

OAU IDOL: THE UNTOLD STORY

By Gracious Egedegbe

It must be said at the onset that the purpose of this article is not to malign the organisers, contestants and other stakeholders in the OAU IDOL competition. This writer writes with a clear conscience and only seeks to x-ray issues and present them as they are.

THE TOLD STORY
Ordinarily, the purpose of OAU IDOL, which is in its second season, can be said to give young talents on OAU campus a platform to explore their potentials as well as win prizes. From all appearances, the competition fills the need to create a platform where students with talents in music may display themselves before a large audience and may well be on their way to fame and stardom.

THE UNTOLD STORY
While the above may be regarded as true and valid, certain concerns have been raised over the execution of the competition. These issues will be addressed in subsequent paragraphs.

The first issue is the use of contestants to sell tickets. Although this writer is yet to interact with the organisers, it could be safely assumed that this is done to guarantee two things. First, that the competition attracts a large audience. Second, that the organisers are able to make ‘enough’ revenue from the sales of ticket. The immediate wisdom in the use of contestants to sell tickets is found in the fact that friends and sympathisers of various contestants will feel obliged (emotionally or otherwise) to purchase tickets to the program in order to show confidence and solidarity.

However, they fail to realize that when they ask contestants to sell large amounts of tickets at a time when recession is in the air, they make the contestants vulnerable. Because these contestants have been made to sell a target amount of tickets within a short period, they are forced to employ different strategies. This might not really put the male contestants in much inconvenience depending on individuals; however, the females have a lot to deal with. In a sexually charged society, putting ladies in the salesperson position puts them in a position where they have to confront different kinds of males in order to meet their set target.

This exposes females to unscrupulous individuals who would use that opportunity to make demands on the ladies or at the very least use it as a means to unsolicited demands. A female’s contact information may been seen as a cheap price for getting sales. Nevertheless, when the information is being used to pressures the female into relationships she would ordinarily not subscribe to, and then there is a problem.

Finally, the use of contestants to sell tickets in order to increase their chances of winning defeats the spirit of the competition. From all appearance, out would expect a free and fair competition where standards related to music would set the rule. However, it would seem that good marketing skills might be needed for one to win the competition. This will no doubt probably dampen the enthusiasm of those who were not able to meet up with sales target. Because of their inability to sell tickets, they may feel their chances of winning are reduced and perform below par. On the other side, those who are probably able to meet or even surpass their targets may feel they have done a lot and just sing to earn few other points.

The argument is simple: the introduction of these sales of tickets dampens the integrity of the quality of expected performance of contestants, judging system and the entire competition.

The Kiss

He walked into the room confidently. If he was going to pay, then he wanted the best service. She took one glance at him and told him to lie on the bed.

What cheekiness, he thought to himself. He looked at the bed. It was tall and strong but had enough room for just one person. He shrugged. The sooner he got this done, the better for both of them.

She walked to the entrance of the room and closed the door. She then proceeded to peal off her sweater as she walked closer to the bed.

He was getting impatient. His friend's experience was a "touch and go"; why is his different? Maybe because he knew her personally. Although he knew it wasn't going to change anything.

"Your trouser", she said, interrupting his thought. Finally, they were getting somewhere, he thought to himself as he began to unbuckled his belt

Her soft hands touched his buttock cheek and and then he felt the kiss. The kiss of the syringe's needle...

He left the clinic feeling relived. His niece, who doubles as a nurse in the hospital had injected him with something to treat his his malaria while he was asked to take drugs to complete the treatment.



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The #ReOpenOAU Crises: W. G. Gabuscore finally speaks

My fellow OAU students, I am here again. I have been following the #ReOpenOAU campaign closely and at this point, I cannot hold my peace any longer.

For those of you who do not know me, I am a Student Union Presidential Aspirant. Kindly click here and here to read about me.

You will agree with me that to deal with a problem, you must first address the cause. The cause of the school closure is stinginess. Yes, I will say it again; the cause of the problem, of the strike, of the school’s closure is stinginess. I mean, imagine, just imagine: Uncle Sam has been dining with Pastor Amala for a long time, has been “enjoying life” while the drivers, cleaners, secretaries and others were watching them with beggarly eyes. They were waiting for the day crumbs will fall off the table. Moreover, we know that when the table is about to be cleared, the crumbs on the table will be swept off before a new meal is served. But not this new guy called Uncle Sam. He demanded that the crumbs on the table be reserved for him. I pray for you, may no one reserve your crumbs for themselves.

Now, you see this is not entirely unforgivable. In times like this, you need the elders. Ask Pastor Amala, the elders are very powerful. We are in a Yoruba land, and Yorubas are highly cultured people. Just go to the elders and pay your dues, no! This was the second problem: disrespect. You cannot disrespect the elders and get away with it.

So the elders decided to act. As far as they were concerned, since Uncle Sam has proven to be a stingy and disrespectful person, he mustn’t be allowed to become the VC, Valedictorian of Chop Chop. From them, I learnt the importance of synergy. You see, these elders are skilled in the spiritual acts. In fact, I heard they were responsible for making Pastor Amala bald. Anyway, they decided to mix this up with some innovation; they went to court. They were using the legal means on one side and some spiritual manipulation on the other. Great Ife Students, this is the divine secret to boost your CGPA: read your books on one side, and do the “other thing” on the other side. Shikenna.

Now when this thing happened and Great Ife Students were crying, I felt it. In fact, everyone in my campaign team felt it. We were working towards a lasting and selfishly beneficial solution when ACJ, Association of Confused Jotters, came to snatch the moment from us. Well, we don’t really mind, as long as we are working towards the same goal. However, to our chagrin, they initiated a campaign without consulting us. This is where another problem started. We all know there are great talk-activists, belly-activists and “jokenalists” that would like to be a part of the coordination of this campaign. We want our names on the bottom of every release, whether on Twitter or Facebook.

These sets of people also call themselves ideologists, what they mean by that is they have plenty of ideas, extremely wonderful ideas. Look around you, everything involving the ideologists have always been wonderful. However, the President of ACJ, MarySam is a disrespectful and stingy person. As you might have noticed, those traits lost Uncle Sam the chair of the VC. You know what they say; birds of a feather flock together. The next thing we heard, Uncle Sam called MarySam for over 30 minutes! Do you know why we take this personal? Because MarySam is forming big boy! Some of us cannot even afford to buy good dictionaries (that’s why we always fumble in our articles) and he can afford to receive a call for 30 minutes. Don’t tell me he wasn’t the one doing the calling, because if you can receive a call for 30 minutes, you can make a call for longer. I pray for you, may you never receive a phone call that will put you in trouble.

Personally, I think it is a bad thing that I wasn’t consulted. It is just disrespectful. Imagine, MarySam is trying to tell us that social media is powerful, that deliberation and consultation are good ways to handle things. What nonsense! Great Ife Students, we must protest! Even if influential personalities, through the campaign, have expressed solidarity. Or how do you think people like me get noticed? When we protest, there will be avenues for people like me to canvass support. People will see how handsome I am, how much kilometres I can walk. In fact, I will even post a release that will contain more typos and errors than you can ever count.

Besides, we are based in Ile Ife. Why should the whole world know about what is happening? We must protest in Ile Ife. We will start from the Ooni of Efi palace. Usually, we start from the Senate building but the amount of Jazz there, mhen… From there, we will block the roads and inconvenience the people of Ile Ife. We will paralyse all activities because the people of Ife are responsible for our current state.

And if I don’t get my chance with the protest, at least make me one of the faces of the campaign. That is where the problem of stinginess comes in. He wants it to look like it was Great Ife Students that collectively worked in the campaign; he wants to reserve the glory for all of Great Ife Students that took part in the campaign. And you know people like us, we are the elders of OAU students. We like to keep the glory amongst ourselves. Or how do you think we sustain our relevance in the OAU polity? We, ideologists and myself, like to be the face of any campaign. We want our voices to be heard. We are the only smart ones on campus. We can’t keep quiet when there is something going on. We must talk. We must be pessimistic. We must always protest.

Besides the hashtag is too short. I recommend something like #AppointVC,ElectStudentUnion,UpgradeSchool,andReOpenOAU. That is perfect. Don’t tell me hashtags are supposed to be concise and sensible; we are Great Ife Students, we must be great in everything. Besides, how will the government know that to ReOpenOAU, you have to constitute a Governing Council and appoint a new VC. We are Great Ife Students, we must tell them what to do.

Sorry I haven’t spoken in a long time, as you know I cannot kill myself for Great Ife Students. Ask other people that have occupied one post or the other, they will tell you the same thing.

But truly, the break hasn’t been that bad, I trust some ajepako girls have been saving enough money to buy flashy dresses and have learnt the latest pronunciations. Some that couldn’t, I learnt, have turned to Jenifer’s Dairy as an alternative.

Guys have been hustling too o. See new blogs and news agencies springing up here and there. Some have been carrying weights to get muscles and six packs while others are making money.

I want to advise all the girls that have been doing “it” to undergo pregnancy tests, whether you used raincoat or not. It is very important.

Now I hear our president has ordered for an acting VC, or so it seems. I am getting ready to begin my campaigns. However, I want you to note some agencies, OAUFolks, DullBrain, LookManFerarri and InsideHer. These agencies have been forming as if they know best. They are yet to start posting my articles on their websites. Take special note of OAUFolks, especially their EIC, is it Vicar or Pope? I am going to deal with them.

Don’t forget to vote me when it is election time.

Yours sincerely,

Woobeu Gegekhido Gabuscore

Walking on Water

When life grates my onions with glee
When my eyes grow dreary and heavy
When the tears cascade like a waterfall
When my cheeks become salty and damp

Then, I let myself be drown in the present
My hand stretched above the water
Waiting for my saviour and friend
A wait always never disappointed

But he never grabs my hand
He touches my fingers and beckons
Tells me his power lies within me
That I have the grace to walk on water

With the storming seas pounding my heart
My wobble feet kicking in fear
Eyes closed, I leap in faith and prayer
And open them, walking on water



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If…

If heaven is the sum of all lights

Blowing gentle winds of the savannah

If heaven’s love is the beginning of life

Cheerful as children playing in the drizzle

Soft as silk, white as driven snow

Angel’s voice comforting the orphans

With a smile the sun envies with green

And divine warmth like a bear’s fur

Then my dear, you are heaven.

And if the sinner is the insecure

Wandering blindly through the waves

Unbelieving in love and warmth

Cynical in light, bold in the dark

Tormented by the hollow within

Haunted by the wintriness without

Unrepentant of the past

Scared to the stiff by the future

And disenchanted by the present

Then my dear, I am the sinner

If…

If these were true

That you be heaven blessed

And I the sinner disdained

Then I am a sinner on heaven’s path

With my back to heaven’s gate

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Remember me

“Remember me”

He said as he neared his crucifying death

Although he was sure he wouldn’t last in the grave

He sure wanted to last forever in my heart

“Remember me”

Lest I get consumed in the pretty faces

Churn thoughts into sensual emotions

Feeding the beast within I am to mortify

“Remember me”

Even as I eat of the unleavened bread

To whet my appetite for the Living Bread

To unshackle me from the bonds of mortal bread

“Remember me”

As the cup my mouth engage

Invoking images of him drinking my cup of sorrows

That I may wine with God the father

“Remember me”

Though he knew I was far from perfect

Just wanted me to put him in focus

To be the only thought that would calm my heart

“Remember me”

He asked but not with poetry any can muster

But a redeemed heart eager to serve the master

Without which no one can prosper

A Fine World of Appellations

We live in a fine world of appellations

A world where we have a fine name for everything

There is a name for the fine gentleman in the uniform

Another for the fine damsel selling her body

I wonder what they call a fine God in a cruel world

Or soothing pleasures that breed fine sufferings

The thing about fine names is how they work

On a fine day, we are the judges of them all

Fine Adams in our own right

We bestow nomenclatural honours in our royal fineness

Then the fine names begin to mould

A layer at a time until the cast is finely formed

Many fine years then down the road

We look at our fine creation

Gape in fine horror…

When fine monsters roam our land

In our fine anger, even more names we execute

For me, neither do I need nor give names:

I am fine!

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Can't Get Over You

These days leave me lonely
It has nothing to do with those around
Repeatedly I stare at the pictures
Wishing I could get back those moments

Here in the arms of the cold I cringe
Dying for the warmth of your embrace
To have your palm on my forehead
The way you love is out of this world

I hate the way the loneliness digs
I know you have given me many chances
But I can?t help but beg for one more
Cos I just can?t get over you

I miss the laughter on your chubby face
The smile when you twist your face
The curve on your inviting lips
And your angelic touch, paramour

I could write a thousand words
Speak in metaphors and similes
But I know the truth when I see it
I just can't get over you

Tales of the Janed

John was the guy I always liked. We were so compatible. He had many issues but then I had always understood that no one was perfect. (Even Jesus was not a perfect human; he did not sin, after all humans do.) I am not interested in Jesus; I am interested in John. On the other hand, should I say was?

Our relationship started on a fated day, a day I remember like yesterday, and desperately trying to forget. We met at a friend’s room – well, technically it was a friend’s room. I was only sharing her bed space with her. We talked for hours. Bo, I felt like I had found my perfect match. I still believe he was perfect for me until…

John was a guy like no other. But hey, what girl wouldn’t say that of her man. Anyways, we were an item for a while, and I did hope it lasted forever. I mean, we were just perfect. I was ready to put up with his shenanigans as long as he was going to be open with me. Yeah, that is I. I hate lies; it is a major turn off.

It turned out John was unique after all. He was a guy with plenty of excitements. That was fine by me, given my personality. I get bored easily so a little excitement on the side is always welcomed. He drank many kinds of liquids and burnt a bit of grass wrapped in paper here and there. Hell that is none of my business. I never made his personal life my exclusive reserve and still did not when his eyes began to stray.

Do not pretend dear reader, our eyes stray. Some of us are just more sincere about it than others. Anyways, so his eyes began to stray. As with most people, he might have felt a certain discomfort. However, like Esther Perel (I honestly do not know who she is or what she does, it is just one weird neighbour of mine that mentioned her), I believe our basic makeup as humans allow for a bit of adventure. You do not believe me? Ask your pastor why he had an affair with the choir mistress although he had a beautiful wife and “direct communication” with God.

Thus, I did have a talk with my man. I told him I was not going to cage the beast within; I only wanted sincerity. Hey, do not think I told him to go on rampage and relate the sordid details to me; I am not a pervert. Although I might not mind some juicy gist *winks*. As it were, it seemed we had an understanding on that. Do whatever you like but never take me for a ride. Folks would later say that was a wrong move. (Mimicking Mary’s voice) Whatever mhen…!

Well, it turned out that guys are pathological liars, or most guys at least, with John at the top of the ladder. Even when it was freaking obvious (just as it is obvious that I wanted to use the f-word), he still denied it. He refused to admit to what he has done even when he knows I HATE LIES SPOKEN OR IMPLIED.

Chai, I am losing my temper. I really do not like losing my temper. However, with lies, I just cannot help it. Damn, I am not going to lie; I have issues with being fooled, worse more with someone I trust. They say humans have a line they want no one to cross; well, that is mine.

I honestly want to think it is over between us. Whatever compatibility we might have, of what use is a relationship if I cannot trust my man? I mean, I just cannot stand it. Guess what, I am going to deal with him like no other. He sure has seen me react to a lie from some other; surely, he should know what to expect.

Thinking about it now, did I set myself for it all along? Alternatively, is this a character flaw rearing its ugly head? On the other hand, is this just some challenge to the strength of our relationship? Then again, am I just making a mountain out of a molehill?

The Embrace of The Janed

Here lies a temple before me

One unlike any other
Of fair skin and long legs
Of heaven’s smile and Einstein’s brain

Her back turned towards me
Her fineness posed towards me
Front to back, hers to mine
As magnets of opposing sides

The sights before my eyes
Of stretched legs and smooth skin
Invoking straight from within
Thoughts and visions of a life unreal

These feet that I see
Those flesh I hope to caress
To play the masseur in part
And the worshiper in another

These thoughts that I think
I mean these thoughts that I kill
Is it for fear of the ‘worm medicine?’
Or respect for her royal temple

The mind strives not to see
The sights that make men to rise
To come to that finely temple
To worship in symmetrical procession

Perhaps my thoughts are muddled
Roughen by thoughts of sensual motion
Or smothered by thoughts of ethereal thrills
Of warm flesh on soft skin

I still long to stare at that face
To revel in human perfection
To bask in the smile of a goddess
To be lost in the embrace of the Janed

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The Diamond Ring

Kate looked at the dog with derision. He was a cheerful dog with a nice disposition that endeared John to him. That was Kate’s problem; she saw the dog as a threat.

Kate and John have been dating for three years and counting, she was very happy in the relationship and felt she had found her Mr. Right; not until she became aware of John’s extreme affection for the dog.

John cared for the dog as if it were his child. He would wake up in the morning, and after his morning prayers, and prepare a meal for the dog. Before serving its breakfast, he would take it to the bathroom and give it a pampered bath. He would always make sure the dog was ready for the day before he considered himself.

Kate felt threatened by the dog. Most times, she wondered if she was not playing second fiddle in John’s life. Even the dog seemed to notice the overflow of affection and was basking in it.

When John proposed to Kate, her john knew no bounds, she hopped for joy and kissed him full on the mouth. She was in the third heavens. The two carat diamond ring was beyond her wildest dream. It was fit for a princess. Just as she made to recline on john’s chest and savor the emotional feel, she saw the dog stroll in.

He came towards Kate and wagged its tails. It noticed something good had happened and wanted to share in the fun. Kate looked at it in disdain and walked into the kitchen.

Later that day, Kate decided to go shopping. John offered to drive her. As expected, the dog tagged along in the backseat.

The market was swelling with traders and buyers alike with a healthy serving of beggars, pickpockets, toll collectors and porters. Navigating one’s way was a near nightmare.

Kate had left John and the dog in the car. John advised that she left the ring in the car but she would not hear of it. No one could snatch the ring from her hand unknowingly to her, she reasoned.

After one hour of sampling, bargaining and heaving, Kate made her way to the car park with a half-filled BARCO bag. John looked on as she made her way to the car. He could not understand how #5000 should not bring at least two overflowing BARCO bags. He shrugged and walked towards her to help with the “load” much to her comfort.

They walked to the car as Kate recounted tales of how market women tried to cheat her and touts gawked at her. They had go round to be back of the car to keep the bag in the booth. Just as she attempted to close the booth, John noticed that the she wasn’t wearing the ring anymore. He pointed it to Kate and they began looking for the ring.

Just then, the dog ran out of the car and attacked a man in suit. The man was shocked and scared at the same thing. He was struggling to get the dog’s teeth from his face when John and Kate ran up to him. They were very embarrassed. Kate was apologising profusely to the man while John scolded the dog.

Just as the man stood up and was about to leave, John something shiny in the man’s palm. He held the man by the hand and saw Kate’s diamond ring in his palm. The man immediately drop the ring and fled for his life.

Bystanders who had witnessed the event chased after the man. He was then taken to the police station after been beaten by the guys in the market. Kate hugged the dog, grateful for what it had done. She no longer saw it as a rival but as a friend.

Dealing with the 10 naira per Sachet Water Issue

As many of you know already, my name is Woobeu Gegekhido Gabuscore. I am the only aspirant (as far as I know) for Great Ife Student Union Presidential Seat. (If you haven't, read my manifesto here) I want to share with my numerous and ever growing fans what I will do on the 10-naira per Sachet Water Issue.

When I learnt that Sachet water (aka pure water) is now sold for 10-naira apiece on our great campus, I was not bothered. The thing is, under the influence of the spirit, Prophetess Madam Adisa had stated: “Education is for those who can afford it; it is not for everybody”. In the same way, sachet water is not for everyone; it is for those who can afford it.

Some of you might criticise my alignment with the words of that great prophetess. Well, unless you know someone else through whom I can apply to the management just in case I need some cash for a leadership conference in the United States, I am sticking with her!

Now, on the issue on ground, if I am elected, there are many things I will do to deal with the situation. The first thing is to ignore it for a while. You see, as your leader, I cannot be bother about little things like a room getting burnt, or students being robbed at Ibadan Road, not to talk of sachet water being sold for 10 naira.

After a while, some troublemakers might begin to ask questions and demand action. Moreover, one budding satirist might decide to use the issue to improve his writing skills. I cannot allow these things to happen for too long. It is not as if I need the confidence of Great Ife Students; after all, once I am elected, I will serve my term to the very last so I have no reason to fear. However, because I am nice, I will move to the next step.

The next thing is to blame it onthe dollar. Yes, the dollar! Let me explain it this way, the water is being imported from the United States. In fact, not just the water but also the nylon and the workers themselves. Therefore, when you import this much from the United States with the high exchange rate of dollar to naira, you cannot just but expect the prices to rise.

Someone might mention that the company producing OAU Sachet Water does not have to import anything. The first thing to ask is: how did that person know? Does such a company even exist? Even if it is true, well, you cannot expect them to give up this opportunity to increase revenue. Some people might call it greed, but I call it smartness. Besides, since they have increased the price of sachet water, it is only a matter of time (about 10 years) before the salaries of the factory workers are increased.

The next step is to visit the many women and few men at the butteries in all halls of residence. I am not sure of what I will do there, but I will make sure everyone knows I visited the butteries. I need to give the students the impression that I am doing something about it, at least to bind some students to foolishly defend my every action.

Once I have garnered enough support, I will announce that I want to install borehole machines and GP tanks in all halls of residence. Many of these students drink “Omole’s Water”. Therefore, they should welcome the idea. (It is ironical that these same students want Omole to vacate his office. If he does, will he not take “his water” with him?) I am trying to improve on the former administration. At a time, the man with the shinning head did something like that in Angola Hall, only for some people to complain that it was not working. I will not be like him!

For me, I will budget a large sum of money, say three hundred thousand naira for each hostel. Then I will present a budget of four hundred thousand naira to the Student Union Parliament. Those guys will clamour and claw each other over the budget. At the end, I will promise fifty thousand off each installation to some parliamentarians should they vote for the budget to be passed for three hundred and fifty thousand naira per installation.

That way, I am still on track with the originally budgeted sum of three hundred thousand per installation. Yeah, I know, I am a genius.

If you think I will spend three hundred thousand naira on borehole installation and GP tank per hostel, then you do not know anything! I will spend a little above half on the project. The other part will be for me, myself and my fans. Just so you know, most of the equipment will be second-hand and castoffs. The tanks will be repainted, of course. One thing is certain, however, the machines will work when I come around to commission them. This is necessary for two reasons: to give my supporters something to use in my defence and to allow me take on other projects.

I can assure you that the machines will not work after a month, but who cares? Great Ife students are resilient; they can cope with anything. Besides, all these talks of probing former leaders is all a farce. No one is ever probed in the real sense of the word. Hence, I have nothing to fear after my tenure. In fact, I am getting rid of my closet because I have no need to hide my skeletons.

And so while haters are complaining and the wise ones are either looking for ways to either afford sachet water or drink “Omole’s water”, I’ll use the “change” from the projects to get myself plenty of bottle water. After all, I can afford it.

That’s all for now.

Remember to vote for me when the ban is lifted.

Vote for the man who is willing to go the extra mile

Vote Woobeu for President

Until I Can No More

By Gracious Egedegbe

I am not going to pretend I don’t know you

Because I know you as well as I know myself

Question is: “How much do I know of myself?”

These days I find myself wanting you

Wanting your approval, wanting your smile

It’s beginning to turn into an addiction

They say not all addictions are bad

I say not all sayings are true

Sometimes I wonder what defines truth

So I am back to you

I mean my back is turned to you

But my heart still turns to you

After all said and “poemed”

I am still not going to ignore you

I will just watch you… until I can no more

W. G. Gabuscore's Manifesto

My people, though some of you may not know it, the time for election is near. Unlike several of my political opponents, I will like to divulge my divine plans for you and answer some of the questions that have been asked. For those who don’t know me, I’m Woobeu Gegekhido Gabuscore. I am a very honest and focused person. Two things you should look for is going the extra mile and looking at things from a different perspective.

First, you see, the present administration think they can embezzle public funds. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for you, I have a degree in siphoning public funds. All those national cake they are sharing will be like eggrolls when I am elected. I promise not to be like some public office holders who are chopping our money but growing thinner every day. You see them walking like emaciated rain-battered hens under the sun. Or are they under a curse? You better vote for a leader who looks like one in character and body. Oh don’t worry, unlike those stingy fools, most of you will have a share in the loot. That leads to my second point.

Most of you reading this will benefit from my administration (as long as you vote for me). Those of you in my campaign team will be promoted to chairmen and secretaries of well-funded committees where you are free to appropriate without interference. As for my numerous voters, there will be a thanksgiving party where food, drinks, dance and of course girls will be available beyond measure. Those that voted for my opponents will have to meet them if they want a share in the package; you have been warned!

The male hostel with the highest numbers of voters for me will have one of their blocks assigned to females. For the girls, the hostel will be allowed to have guys spend the night over, probably for security reasons and to study together. Ahem, females who want to stay in the male hostel and guys that want to study in female hostels will have to apply. These things will be subject to my approval, you know to prevent stories that itch the buttocks.

For those of you who wonder where I will get money to spend from, “dey there”. There are many ways to get money. First, Great Ife students have plenty of money pooled up in Student Union funds. I only need a befitting budget, something in the range of ten million, with a minimum of two million budgeted for phone calls. I will also introduce schemes like Great Ife Poverty Alleviation Scheme to help the poor men in my cabinet. Don’t worry, all of you that actively campaigned for me will also be elevated from poverty to wealth. If that doesn’t satisfy me, I will organize a show that will be the talk of Ife and its environs. I will get plenty of money from organizations, the student union purse and then demand for gate fees at the venue. Don’t worry, those that are affiliated to me will get free entry for themselves and their chikalas.

I hear cases of rape on our prestigious campus, and I am happy that people are coming out to talk about it. What I don’t like is the form of punishment melted out to them. Why should you beat a guy after a hard day’s work? When I’m elected, I will simply ask the girl if she enjoyed it or not, if she did, case closed. If she didn’t, she will be given an opportunity to repay the wrong that was done by raping the guy. If she doesn’t want to punish the guy, well she could ask for compensation in cash; that way we view it as a transaction in which the girl delivers and the guys pay. Is that not justice my people?

I was asked what I will do about the increase of theft in our halls. Well, I am not against one making any vocation a source of livelihood, however disagreeable it may be. What I don’t like is the fact that they are not regulated. I mean, someone will just wake up and claim to be a thief because he saw some potential business. So when I am elected, I will create an association which any potential thief will have to register with. Plus, you will have to pay trade permit, which will be a function of the business value. You don’t expect me to charge someone who stole a phone the amount I will charge the person who stole a laptop. Unlike most people, I am considerate.

To add to that, any one affiliated to my cabinet has the right to free practice. If you catch any of my people stealing, please keep your mouth shut. I am not like some other people o! I will deal with you in ways you cannot even imagine. For me, loyalty to my peeps trumps justice.

About the conditions in our hostels, well, it is very pitiable that things have worsen to this extent. However, we are not entirely helpless. As regards fans, I will award a contract to several of my political godfathers to deliver hand fans; yes, we are trying to be traditional. After all, most of you don’t have working fans in your homes. Don’t worry, one of them will surely deliver the goods. If not, well what do you have notebooks for?

For power supply, well I’m not PHCN, am I? Besides, you guys don’t pay PHCN bill so you should be grateful for whatever is given to you. After all, it’s said that only a thief wants to reap where he didn’t sow; you can be sure I won’t tolerate such in my administration (unless, of course, you are a registered thief). As for water, I will give all the students 25litres keg for water storage. That would be the welfare package you all are entitled to. After all, the taps run from time to time. When they do, I expect all students to be responsible and get some water for themselves. Sorry, the kegs are for a select few o. This is because my godfathers will need some of the money for personal use. Don’t worry, those who are able to get it will lend you if you ask them politely.

I hear complaints about inequality. Well I don’t believe in equality; rather I believe in quality. You don’t expect people with different qualities to be treated equally, do you? Your quality will determine how you will be treated. Have you not heard: some people protested at one time and were dealt with differently, some were unscathed, some suspended and some placed on probation. Those on probation had quality, and those that were unscathed had even more quality, get the point? If you want to have quality, join the winning team and contribute immensely.

As regards our school fees and closures, I blame the management. When you want to do things like this, you have to call the student leaders to a closed-door meeting. There you’ll intimate them on your plans, while you do that you make sure their pockets are growing in size. By the time you make it official, the student leaders would have settled all the noisemakers. Plus, you will grant free access to the school Wi-Fi. You can be sure that some ungrateful students will clamor for a congress and consequently a protest. To deal with that, I will simply march the student populace to Moro for a protest. I will make sure Great FM covers the entire event. I will also provide plenty of refreshments: this will be sourced from various means. While doing that, I will make sure lecturers still go to classes to teach. That way, those that came to study will be in class while the rest will be at CDL protesting forever if they like.

Great Ife Students, I have said enough for today. Those that are spiritual will know from the foregoing that my right to rule is divine. The unspiritual ones will say I have been saying rubbish. Thanks for your attention. God bless you.