Tuesday, 3 March 2015

At the end of the bridge.


Photo credit www.informationng.com



At one end of the 3rd mainland bridge is Adeniji Adele and the other end linking to the mainland is Bariga/Oworo. I lived part of my childhood in Bariga; this is a community where sin is a way of life. This is a community where teenagers smoke readily available weed, where you won’t be surprised to find a small chemist shop/hospital where fetuses are being removed from underage girls like plucking feathers off a chicken. You’re either awoken in the morning by the cries of a neighbor beating his wife over daily feeding stipend or the curses and banters of gossiping housewives over topics such as who was supposed to wash the toilet and didn’t. If you’re lucky such topics lead to fights and the sight of luscious women fighting and stripping each other to reveal old, torn under-wears with holes plenty enough to pass as a sieve is a sight to behold. The men engage themselves talking and arguing over topics in the newspapers, gesticulating with one hand holding the helms of their wrapper and the other hand a chewing stick. This I call ‘’chewing stick politics’' 

Feeding here depends on your pocket, Ewa Agoyin with the legendary Agege bread with its inside as soft as a baby’s butt, lunch could range from a huge head of fish with garri Ijebu or on glory days, that can be replaced with kuli kuli hard enough to knock Goliath out. One cube of St Louis sugar in your garri or ogi (pap) is sane, two cubes is luxury while three cubes is extravagance or your father probably drives a Volvo or ladybird. Dinner served by the woman who sells Eko and Moin Moin above the canal where prostitutes and teenagers with unwanted pregnancies drop dead or sometimes alive babies.

 At night the community comes alive, the darkness seems to cloud the unhappiness for the moment being and everyone tries to wind down in different ways. The sight of drivers and their conductors counting the day’s earnings over bottles of adulterated alcohol, women grinding pepper to prepare different of concoction to go with the ever ready and palatable amala. A stomach full of amala makes the worries go away. By the end of the night, the sight of drunk men drowning in the pool of their own vomit, used condoms and heaps of cigarette and marijuana butts are a few feet from each other.
Don’t get me wrong; every city has its own fair share of slums and gory sights. At the bottom of every skyscraper there is a slum. Bariga in all its glory is an ongoing story, every corner tells the tale of the misery and neglect that has embedded itself on the face of people living there. The stench of vomit coupled with urine and the aura of poverty saturates the air. At the end of the bridge is a faint glimmer of hope, hope that there is a better day, somewhere, somehow.  

Written by Femi Shine


@FemiShine

Tuesday, 13 January 2015

A Dysfunctional Childhood



My apologies to the holier than thou and over religious pansies, if at any point you feel a tingling in between your legs then yes I have achieved my aim and yes you have broken all the commandments in the bible and hell awaits thee! lol . Alcohol is good; I mean the devil’s drink is one strong mind impairing mixture. It opens the veins and allows the worries subside for a while. If only one can just make love to a bottle of good whiskey, wouldn’t that be way better than the guilt you feel after sleeping with a girl you don’t like but have to satisfy the need God created eve for? Call me whatever you want but women equal sex, lets be real here, that’s how it works. Except you’re a guy who likes other men, no sane man sees a good looking woman with the right endowments and the first thing that comes to your mind is a Bible passage. 


Pardon me while I indulge you in the crappy tales of my childhood, I’m far from being called a dysfunctional kid. Would you say because my neighbor who was way older than me, playfully dragged me to back of our kitchen and slid my innocent fingers up her flowery gown into her hairy pot and made me do certain unmentionables down there while I could hear the sound of my mom struggling to stir the fufu pot for dinner. Lets just say from that day, I didn’t like going to those holiday lessons during the 3rd term break from school, I just wanted to have my fingers in pussy everyday..I mean who wouldn’t?  You would say I was molested right? Nope I wasn’t, I had already seen ''Glamour Girls’’ so I pretty much knew what she was doing after all I did see Zach Orji perform a bathroom scene with the now actress turned evangelist Eucharia Aunobi. I knew things way too early for my tender age, she showed my innocent fingers how to use  them to touch a woman and give her mind blowing orgasms (At some point during our backyard adventures, she always squeezes my head and starts convulsing; which I’ve come to know as orgasm. That shit scared me then!!) I knew if I complimented you about your socks or school bag, the chances of me getting your cream flavored Nasco biscuit was very high ( Nasco biscuits was the shit back then) That was my first lesson about handling women. Shower a woman that has low self esteem with compliments and she will willingly allow you shave her pussy. 

I plunged into the world of sex pretty early, no regrets about that actually. After a couple of premature ejaculations, nervous erections and epic embarrassing moments, I learned the ropes. How did I overcome? Masturbation did come in handy (Men deny this a lot)anyone remember ‘’Hints’’ magazine? "Better Lover” I saved to buy them. My pocket money and Sunday offerings were willingly handed over to the old man at the bus stop who always made sure i received the latest editions, sometimes on credit. I was a loyal customer!!! Another remedy that came in handy was whenever I’m about to blow too early; I picture getting scolded by my primary school teacher for spelling “business” incorrectly as “bussiness”. She goes thus; Femi how many times have I corrected you about this eh? She then bends over; fully exposing her luscious well rounded boobs and twists my ear. The thoughts of that event get me aggressive and the urge to ejaculate disappears and I begin to attack the pussy like I’m about to shift the earth from its axis!!!! 
To be continued…...
Well, allow me welcome you into the world of Mr. Phallus, this is my first entry. 
I’d say a woman’s vagina is the safest haven you can be. Even in harsh economic times; the pussy is always welcoming except the ones at Allen Avenue, you’re broke? Stay home, turn on some porn and grab your Vaseline.

Disclaimer: A couple of half-truths, a shot of fantasy with a drop of fiction. Choose what you believe.

Written by Femi Shine
Image credit: Wikihow

Know Your Level In Your Church ( An Eye Opener )

I read a post on Nairaland.com and would like to share it with my readers so we can view religion from another perspective


Religion to Nigerians is not so much about its content, but about an identity. A girl who spent all Saturday night in the club or even Being Intimate with her boyfriend/aristo will wake up by 7am, have her bath, dress up and she is in church. That Muslim chap that hides his alcohol inside his prayer kettle would do his Ablution and head for the Mosque on Friday  Its now a part of what they do. It has no real meaning to them. Thats why a convicted felon would go straight from the prisons to a church for thanksgiving.

Immorality is very high in Nigeria right now, corruption, crime and all sorts of vices.. Yet every Sunday, the churches are filled to capacity.

To the Rich/upper middle-class Nigerians, Church is nothing but a social gathering where they can come into contact with the poor and subconsciously oppress them. Thats why its easier for a rich man to see the pastor than it is for a Poor Church Usher to even enter the Pastors office, let alone see him. They dont pray as hard as the poor, they come late and leave early, they get choice seats in church, they get special invites to every occasion and the pastor always answers their calls personally. This class only attend church on SUNDAYS!!


To the lower-middle class/independent entreprenuers, Church is nothing but another avenue to meet potential clients. These ones get access to the pastors, but not as easily as the rich folks. They can get a Pastor to pray for them, but cant get a pastor to come to their houses. This class would attend Church on Sundays and are always at house-fellowships (as this is where they c=get to interact with the rich).

The Poor, To them, Church represents hope. This class are the most dedicated members of the church. they sweep the church, they make up over 75% of the churches workers, they are very loyal to the pastors, they pray the hardest, loudest and longest. They are the first to arrive in church and the last to leave. To them, they really do believe that if you pray hard enough, manna will fall from the skies. They are the most committed. This class can never see the pastor at will. In fact , they will be lucky if they can get the pastors number let alone speak to him one on one. They come to church every sunday hoping for a miracle. They dress their best but always come short. They eat at the feet of the rich & upper middle class who use them as they like.






The Politicians need religion for control. They use it for election purposes and to keep the masses under control. A christian wouldn't kill a Politician that is stealing him blind because of religion. And he is so shackled by the religion that he cant even fight the system, so he prays to God for a solution to a problem that is within his control.



Religion is not important to Nigerians, its now a habit.

Sadly, we have chosen foreign gods like the Jewish god and the Persian god. Abandoning our local gods. If we still actively worshipped Amadioha, by now, someone would have dragged their governor before Amadioha and made him swear with his life if he stole our money during his tenure or not.. By now, a Yoruba man would have dragged his council man before Sango to swear if that fake road was truly tarred with 15 billion Naira. INFACT, ALL OATHS OF OFFICES WOULD BE TAKEN IN FRONT OF AN ORACLE.. Maybe, just maybe, things would not have been this bad.



In case youve forgotten religion was brought by missionaries who in turn took away our fore fathers as slaves.

” Phallus Journals’’



Lagos, centre of sexcellence, I was born here, I have had my fill of it, yet the city never ceases to amaze me. The ridiculousness of the situations its citizens tend to find themselves must really amuse the supreme being above us. Crime , sex, sex and yes more sex is an active ingredient in most of its successful business interactions. The possibility of a deal being sealed over a simple act such as a blow job is more certain than 40 days of fasting and prayer. It is a circle, young steaming beautiful teenagers from high school with bodies carved by the goddess of beauty Aphrodite herself; who have overdosed on porn images coupled with raging hormones willing to be devoured, university students enjoying the sour pleasures of different men from all works of life who will gladly make it rain on them while their disgruntled wives back home have given up on the missed calls but now seeks solace in the gigantic phallus of the gate man or most often receiving the anointing from their Pastors..wink wink.
 

I live in this city, I’ve seen its high and lows. Drowning in a mixture of false hopes and broken dreams, I’ve thrived in it. Men seeking women, women seeking women and men moaning with pleasure in the arms of another man. If you have battled against the power in your loins to resist the lust that envelopes the entire city then you were thoroughly baptized in whatever disease infested water your priest tried to drown you in; I was baptized at the shores of the unilag lagoon overseeing the third mainland bridge were corpses are thrown into at midnight. Fornication is sweet, let no human with good functioning testicles or uncut clitoris tell you otherwise.
 

I am going to embark on a series, lets call it an ongoing narrative, hopefully the god of procrastination will let me be this year so that i can thrill you guys with different stories which will build up to a final climax. So allow me to introduce you to ” Phallus Journals’’ It will be filled with juicy thoughts, imaginations and will be spiced with suspense filled situation that will tingle you between your legs..wink wink. ‪#‎phallus‬