Archive for maga


Posted in Humor with tags , , , , , on August 17, 2012 by Yemi

It’s been a while since the failure of my post a day challenge to even see the 10th day. Blame my internet service provider: Espresso.

I have a special for you today: a 2 in 2 humor post courtesy yours truly and Bunmi Morgan (@Mhorghan) of tainsville. @Mhorghan is first with the mic. Enjoy.


In my 4th year currently on mandatory internship and yeah, I’m loving it…though all the friggin bones in my body are crying out for help. This body needs a sleeping beauty kinda nap…really exhausted.

Internship for me translates to no free rides. I can’t hitch a bus with anyone because I really have to leave for work early. Leaving me with just one option: the Yellow Buses! *screech*

Really?! Jega really? Even after 80 billion naira. O ni fe lo Jega fun wedding planner… Joor oh!


The yellow buses popularly called danfo buses according to a survey are responsible for the continued shortening of the lifespan of folks residing in Lagos. If you want to live long, you’ve got a better chance with riding bicycles or just walking! These danfo buses aren’t really buses, they are like sardine tins on four wheels with seats in them and someone in front pretending to know how to drive but that’s not why we’re here. I just feel the need to warn you about the passengers you have to avoid. You must avoid these folks! I call them the do-not-sit-beside-me-passengers

Passenger 1: the Elderly

Picture this: it’s the end of the day, you stroll to the bus stop with thoughts of a good dinner and much-needed sleep. You board the bus and sit beside this calm old man holding a walking stick, you let out a sigh of relief, finally home sweet home *screech* wrong!

You see the odd thing about old people in buses is that they always have something up their sleeves. He would know that the bus fare is N100 but decide to pay N50. When (not if) the conductor gets angry and starts threatening…baba too raises his voice in a bid to defend himself, he starts gesticulating too. At that point, brothers and sisters, you don’t want to be the passenger next to him, believe me. Baba can elbow you straight in the eye because he’s trying to dodge paying the full fare, he might even turn to you and tell you to help appeal to the venting conductor and God help you if you try to ignore him, he turns the spot light on you and gives you a long lecture on how youths nowadays should have more respect. It gets more awkward, in a bid to get the still venting conductor to look at him, he picks up his walking stick and *whack* accidentally hits you on your jaw and then starts apologizing *sighs* all you wanted was to get home in one piece to a good dinner and long nap! Finally, when baba sees that all else has failed he plays the age card on the conductor “omo mi jo ba mi gba be, iwo na wa darugbo” *kapish* the more sentimental passengers join in and baba gets his way. Through all this drama, you want to be the guy in the front seat holding your laughter or snickering, not his frigging neighbor!

PASSENGER 2: Christian Sisters

These passengers are not hard to spot. They are clutching a bible or a devotional and supposedly studying. I’m not sure why they feel the need to observe their quiet time in a moving rickety bus. You grab a seat next to them, still groggy from substituting part of your sleeping hours to reply Deola’s pings. What could possibly go wrong!?*screech*

Sister innocent has just finished reading her devotional and starts speaking in tongues. Well, let her speak in tongues, no problem. Wrong! She hits another gear in the spirit and consequently stomps her heels on your shoe (emi ti gbe lo). Naturally, you let out a grunt and look to her for a deserved apology but no, at that instant she rounds up her session and decides you need Jesus. Without hesitating, she brings you the gospel of Christ. Where you wan pass now? How you wan take avoid preaching? You’re right there beside her. You wan jump commot through window? Tell her you’re born again?…aha wrong move! Tell her you’re a muslim?…ahaha worse move! Ignore? that’s not even an option.*sighs* all you wanted was  peace and an apology, you don’t even want the apology again, peace is all you ask for *sighs again*

PASSENGER 3: Ibo Passenger

Relax. I’m not a tribalist I even think I might marry an ibo girl, all my high school crushes were ibos J…however, when you board that Yellow Bus in the morning or after closing hours, carefully scan the arena for any ibo fellow and avoid them. Why?*screech*

So your journey is going on smoothly…everyone’s minding their own business, looking forward to their next activity and then your distinguished ibo fella receives a phone call! The end folks! Why? Because he feels the need to shout in order to make his point clear to the person at the other end and also, to inform you of how much he has in his bank account and how many crates of the allegedly legal merchandise he has at the seaport.

Unfortunately, your eardrums are also getting a huge beating. like that’s not enough, he gets angry with the caller switches from English to pidgin then to full-scale ibo! Folks, you don’t want to be sitting next to him. By the time you alight from that bus your eardrums will be buzzing! If you like plug headset, fail! It’s like he sees it as a challenge and increases his pitch. When he’s done with his call, he turns to you and says “biko my brother, was I disturbing you? That chukwudi is just a useless boy..was I shouting?”  you should totally reply with this: “Hian! no, you were not shouting nah, didn’t you hear how you were whispering quietly on the phone about the 1 million naira in that black water proof.”

Nonsense! Instead you just give him a not-interested nod and pray he receives no more calls.

There you go folks, the life of a jumping-bus Intern. The struggle *boards bus, sees old ibo man with bible* *screeeeecccccchh*


@Yemijohnson with the mic.

As far as Bunmi’s knowledge of jumping buses goes (It’s a very far knowledge sha!) he forgot to include this passenger or should I say these passengers:

the-broke-not-so-elderly-yoruba-woman-with-3-hungry looking-children.

I will leave you to discover that passenger by yourselves. Not a pretty thing, I tell you.

And finally, my ONE CHANCE BUS experience. If anybody asks, I simply say, “I gave out to charity.”

So once again, I had just burst out of computer village (I think I should stop going there. I’m not compatible with that kind of hustle.)  I have 3 things of dear importance in my worn out ugly bag (wearing the bag was intentional, I guess.) It was my sole aim to look like a pauper so that I wouldn’t be accosted by any hooligan. It kind of worked because a thug already tried to obtain me but after I pleaded and gave him the only #200 in my fine ass wallet, He collected the wallet, fortunately my important documents were not there, it was still new. He didn’t bother collecting my phone tho! Why would he bother himself with a Nokia torch-light. Since my first BB got stolen, I stopped taking my fine phones to the market.

Now, because of the way I dressed, the thug had doubts, he thought I was a petty thief. He assessed my look: uncombed hair, oversized T-shirt, baggy jeans that had frayed at the hems, slippers that was covered in dust and the streaks of sweat that ran down my face. The only thing missing was the hungry look. He chased me away after I attempted to collect my wallet. Fortunately because of his hasty judgment, my #200,000 was safe in the inside pockets of my jeans.

I bought the new Samsung SII galaxy. Why? The advert was very cool and every time I visited the phone was being advertised. Talk of oppression. I journeyed further to pick up a friend’s Ipad (Ipad 2 of course, who dash am Ipad 3) and my laptop from the repair man (I think he ripped me off, story for another day).

To cut the long story short (I think that’s rather late now) I boarded the nearest bus available, actually I had to hustle to get a space in the bus, it had few seats in it and only 3 of us had entered by the time the bus zoomed away (I should have smelt trouble then).

5 minutes into the ride, I realized there were only men in the bus and the bus seemed scantier than at the beginning (my suspicions still did’t kick in).

15 minutes into the ride, the conductor says “pass all your belongings forward” (I’m like O_o). Then he gets vicious and his remaining 3 assailants unveil their identity. The real passengers or magas in the bus (me and the unlucky 2 fellas that hustled well to enter). We are shocked out of our guts and I clutch my bag under my legs. They can’t do me strong thing like this. Never!

I began to wonder if there was a tattoo on my head that read:


They begin to dash out commands like “empty ya pockets”, “give me ya phone”, “pull ya shirt.” The 3 of us initially refuse until they slap one of us. The other guy didn’t waste time, he obliged. When I saw the battle was lost, I gave in but I refused to remove my shirt. I begged for my laptop. It was worthless (probably 15K in the market). I told them how important my documents were. Then one of them told me his name was Charity (In my mind, I’m like WTF are you telling me.) Then he told me straight out, “Konji they catch me and I dey do anything, boy or girl even dog, I go do am” My cojones fails me and at this time, I’m the only passenger that seems to have a lot by the time they go through our belongings.

Charity suddenly whips out his belt (I’m not sure if he wants to flog me or do the deed and I can only pray to my father in heaven,) Then I look at the bright side: At least they are not Jazz men. Charity touches my jeans either in an attempt to search it or pull it off, I don’t know which. I scream, punch and kick hoping the remaining 2 magas will come to my aid but instead, Charity whips me (as a bad guy, I chest it…. Ask Mr. Faniran/Benjamin, my house master, I’m a born chester.)

Charity feels a bulge in my trousers but it’s not my D, it’s my remaining stash of cash. (Te mi ti tan bayii, I commit my life to Jesus sharpaly). Now I’m on all limbs begging. They attempt to slap me but retract their hands millimeters away from my face. I don’t know what happened at that moment but they bundled me up and threw me out on the road side without my jeans. They take only the Samsung Galaxy device and the money. They dash me 1k for transport and go away with the remaining 2 passengers. I didn’t understand what just happened but I know Jesus just saved me.

People came to hear my story rather than assist me *sigh! Nigerians* I got home safely sha and nobody knew what happened. Since the incidence, I became a coo kid and started hiring cab services. It’s expensive to be a coo kid oh! I can’t wait for my own personal ride with chauffeur then I can declare my big boy status.


Yep! Guilty!! That’s what I always tell them babes. Can’t destroy my coo kid reputation

. Can’t destroy my coo kid reputation

When my friends ask me about my #200 k savings in my account. I simply say,

“I gave it to Charity.”


If you believe any part of that story is true, Then you obviously don’t know me…………… I’m INVINCIBLE.

p.S: You also need Jesus.



Posted in Stories with tags , , , on February 22, 2012 by Yemi


First of all, I want to apologize for not being consistent with this challenge, I gave a crappy post on Saturday that was not properly edited, it still reeks of gbagauns despite the length. I refused to blog on Sunday because man must rest and go to church. Go to church I didn’t, and yesterday I refused to release a post because I was just too damn lazy plus the light bulb did not appear on top of my head and even till now the light bulb ain’t there and I am typing at a very ungodly hour. They say nothing good happens after 2am. I just hope this post proves that statement wrong

Also let me warn that this post might be gbagaun prone and it may distract you from the main idea of the post. Bear with me, I am only human, a human who has refused to sleep. I think that should do for the disclaimer.

Finally I want to take time to address my haters. Those that are constantly high on haterade, constantly sending me pings and dm’s on how crappy my posts are. Now singing turn my swag on, Keri Hilson version

*If you be hating just be mad at yourself,

I bet you think this post is about you,

don’t you, yeah, but it ain’t about you………………………

if you ain’t getting money then you got nothing for me

’cause I will be making paper like you wouldn’t believe

and I will be skinning haters like you wouldn’t believe

so what’s up? *

ok, that one sef don do. Most of my haters are my hommies tho. They definitely love me, what’s not to love.

And for those who doubt my talent, I brought you this,

This will go down as one of my favorite tweets.

Ok, to today’s post. I am sure with all the preamble from above, you will be expecting something awesome. I will be sorry to disappoint you at the end, it’s 2 am in the morning and I am still awake. The sand man is trying his best to put me to sleep………….. oh, my friend just told me some of you guys think I am talking about Sandman from the marvel comic. Nah, I am talking about that small dude that puts the whole world to sleep, he is somewhat like a tooth fairy…. If you still don’t know who I am talking about then I am sorry for your childhood. That’s enough babble. Now for today’s post. Hmmmmm. Where to start from.

Let me warn that the contents of this post may (emphasis on may) contain real scenes from my true life experience nevertheless the story is purely fictional and highly exaggerated. I will be the narrator. The post you about to read is meant for your amusement, so the truth has been greatly altered. Just so you know, this is the second time I will be writing such. ENJOY.

I slotted in my atm card into the atm for the third time that morning. The five digit number well above the needed amount stared at me and my feelings were elevated. I mentally tried to calculate the last time I had a black berry phone in my hand and how the opportunity got snatched away from me along with my itouch by a hoodlum wielding nothing more than a knife. Embarrassing right! It was painful and the ridicule was even worse (you can read up on the story here. I have refused to edit the story despite the numerous errors. It was the incident that propelled me to start blogging.)

I smiled to the ceiling wondering who my first contact would be, how I would so much pimp out my black berry, I could go on forever with the thoughts but I believe you get the drift. I brought out the Nokia torch-light phone in my pocket and made my last call with it

“mummy, I am going to buy a new phone”

“yemi don’t go alone ooh, you are still a kid.” I got annoyed and hung up.

I formed a mental image of all the black berry phones in my head, even the Porsche one, but it drove away as fast as it drove in. My options were down to a bold 2, bold 4 and  a torch. Long story short , I got a cab down to the place, entered slot and bought a bold 4. I still don’t know why I didn’t go to the slot at ikeja mall. The prices are the same, I think. Now for the real story.

Feeling all wiser than the last time I was here, I decided to enter the very gangster side of computer village just to get a phone jacket that I could have bought in slot. I put the newly bought phone in a black water proof…. Hehehe, I just like saying water proof. I took my time, gently striding and contemplating if my decision was sensible. Of course it was sensible especially to a foolhardy like me. All courage but no good sense.  I approached a shop that had more weapons in it than gadgets, more well-built men around it than sales personnel and they all seemed to have the same smell and their eye color was no different. I braced myself up, muttering I am smarter than before and I am no one’s maga, then I entered the shop. I spoke all the dialects I could, from English to Yoruba to pidgin. I asked to see his phone jackets and I was required to bring out the phone to see the one that best fits. He asked me new phone and I said yes. He volunteered to help me pimp out my phone and he told me in a very unclear way that each file he was going to add to my phone costs #200. I initially refused but then I thought the whole stuff was just #200. I gave him the go ahead and he did a few things on his laptop and my phone.

He gave me an app that was meant to prevent people from stealing the phone. Basically it was nothing more than an app for locking a phone and it had an alarm. That was all. I handed him a #200 bill and he was like what is this. I was amazed by his response. He said my fee was #10,000. I was startled, how is that possible, he then replied

“I said #200 per file and there are 50 files under this app.” I began to speak in Yoruba again

“Iru rubbish wo ni ele bayii, mo ro pe #200 ni e so. Oya, yoo kini yii lati fone mii.” (what sort of rubbish, delete it from my phone.)

“Ko le se yo, o gbodo san owo yen.” (it cannot be removed, you have to pay the money.)

We debated the issue some more and I began to panic, he offered to give me a storm 2 for the phone as I did not have the money to pay. After all no be ping the both of them they ping. I was furious and began to utter curses on him in pidgin, just then 2 huge shadows were casted by my side and the sun light was blurted out. One of the guys asked

“Lanre, se ko si any wahala.” (Lanre is there any problem) The look in my eyes was begging Lanre to dismiss them. I was not ready to get beaten.

“Omo yii ni.” (it is this child) I stopped him before he could say more.

“Baba, ni bi storm 2 yen wa. E ma je ka waste anymore time.” (where is the storm 2, don’t let us waste anymore time.)

He brought out a dusty looking thing from under the table and gave me, I could not care if the phone was working, all I knew was that I wanted out. He was nice enough to throw in a phone jacket with the phone. I think I said thank you. I hurried back home to see if the phone was working and it worked. I have refused to tell anyone the truth of what went down till now. It’s just plain stupid to be maga’d twice. It feels so not good to have confessed this. END.

Oh and my first ping, forget about it, there are more important things to worry about like Boko Haram, GEJ, girls getting pregnant and me going back to school.

If you believe this, please shoot yourself. This post is totally fictional but you are at liberty to believe whatever makes you sleep at night but still shoot yourself if you believe this.



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