Date Published: 11/28/09

Chapter Four: Most Fortunate By Magaji Idris

Most fortunate counts club holds its annual talkshop seminar in which new executives emerge and new members admitted. Among the members some of them could not be said to be fortunate at first sight until one heard their account of their stories and how they intrinsically convinced themselves that they consider themselves fortunate relatively. The motto: Those who exaggerate their fortunes/success are not trustworthy. 

I am an ex-serf, or freed slave. My father married my mother after she was impregnated by their master. In those days the master was free to choice any one from the women serfs and sleep with, when the woman got pregnant then the master would hand her in marriage to another man serf. I am happy that I was the second child to my parents and that made me true born child of my parents. I am happy that my father unlike his senior brother did not impregnate his daughter. That my uncle was found on his daughter by the mother of the daughter who collapsed on seeing them pestle in the mortar and that caused her a stroke and died some years after. Such stigma was what transpired to the serfs and most of the freed serfs nowadays are not true born children of their parents. I am happy that I went school and can handle computer beyond hesitancy level. I could even vilify some people as vagabonds.          

I am Good luck, the sixth but female child of my parents. There are many children of my father, same father and mother. We lived in boys’ quarters of our father’s master house who was an expatriate. The expatriate shouldered all our responsibilities: schooling, feeding, clothing and health care. After the death of my father there came my flourishing moments. Out of envy of the expatriate’s floozy, my mother introduced me to him to replace the floozy. And this expatriate master built a new house, and out of pity and love he asked me to be sleeping in the main house with him before solemnization of our marriage while my mum, the elder and younger brothers and sisters were entrusted to the boys’ quarters. He even bought me a flashy car and supplied us with all our needs. We were proud, even arrogant and complacent people. The man used me and even sponsored me to go overseas and to his occidental home country. When the relationship became stereotypical and worn-out, and to reciprocate his generosity and kindness to my family and based on understanding I replaced myself with my junior flourishing/nubile sister to him, I then got married legitimately. And as we were not in a state of needs/want because of my long and mutual relationship with this expatriate, I once tempted to admit his dog because you can only give what you have.          

I am Gombeen, the Purist Usurer, the unknown ex-pederast. In my pastimes, I was a pederast; I used children and underage to satisfy my bi-sexual needs. And to avoid defiling, cuts and tears, I used cream and oil. And now as a repentant (born-again) I only worship at the shrine of mammon that is I give excessive devotion to wealth and money making.

I relatively felt/assumed that I have grown immensely in spiritual stature and understanding but I always look back and ponder upon my pederasty days and then become unable to separate remorse and compunctions from desire.

I am the most fortunate because I am both a stake and share holder in our staff cooperative society, and I could not now separate my capital and that of the staff corporative society. And when I lend money to some of the staffers, I call the interest charged as administrative charges not usury. And my stray words on my pastimes, indecency and heterodox never had any negative impact on my Imamship, even the usury I charge on money lent was not under spotlight to have mustered public prejudice against me. 

I am Mbagti Kado. In the course of my mother’s sojourning and elopement, she came to the town called Dala, and not knowing anybody there, she had to use the only asset she possessed, the river between the flesh, and obtained the capital to start her beans cake business, and fortunately enough, all her children happened to be overachievers, the most senior was an erudite media practitioner, and myself through succession of posts and promotions, I rose to the last stage of the civil service. “Civil to everyone but servant to the Devil”. 

Kado Mbagti is my derivational hybrid name. I was an elective emissary of a county at the national level, and my junior brother was the overseer of the county. We used to hear the talks of the town that we were hybrid species that our father was of Habe tribe and our mother Mbagti tribe. They cohabited for longer years before their marriage was solemnized, and that was why we were called love-children by our mother who distorted the meaning as children whom were deeply loved by their parents. 

I am ex-this, ex- that prodigal son. In our society, we value polygamy. My father had four wives. My mother was the first and the eldest one. I have many brothers and sisters; some the same mother and some just siblings. My father’s love for the four wives was a lopsided one, tending to favour one wife to the detriment of the others. I happened to be from the detrimental side. And I had a sibling of the same age with me but he was from the favoured side. Everything was in disparity. His side always got the upper hand. The other side suffered such a cavalier attitude and disincentive, and I was disestablished. I had a mistaken belief before that only white people can be racist but unfolding events proved me wrong. I now began to believe that some parents have morals that were not suited for good parents. And such immorality became part of life in the polygamous society. Dishonourable acts and baseness. 

I am Desperado petty trader for donkey years in a conglomerate markets. We were observing our afternoon prayer (noon) and I was the one leading the prayer when the Linchpin-tycoon came passing-by just when we genuflected on our knees, and I swiftly broke off the prayer to greet him leaving the followers hanging in the balance. The Linchpin –tycoon protested why I did that, and I told him God is merciful and forgiving and if by chance I allow you to pass unattended, I am not sure whether I will be chanced to see you again forever. And seeing you is equivalent to seeing a majestic-night. And thereafter I would amend my abandoning of God and the followers for the mammon.  And in the blink of an eye he ordered his secretary to give me three trucks/ containers of assorted merchandise and franchise and see how big fish I am now. Since then I ceased to be leading prayers. 

I and my wife worked with one bank. I was very successful with the work only our Director used to have taken interest in my wife and used to give her special assignments, and when going abroad for official work he sent her as an advanced party to book hotels and clears other protocols. And in the end I was asked to divorce her and I was handed an invitation card for her weeding with Mr. Director. I did not let that to worry me for longer time. I only took a leave of absence and vanished and only to have emerged more successful than before. This I call the lesson of the masters. And it did not take much time I heard that Mr. Director met his waterloo and was sent to gulag for manipulation and monopoly in illegal exchange of ownership of the Bank money. 

I was enjoying myself with my girl friend in our pass-through parlour when my father came back from somewhere. On seeing me pumping in and out of the juicy land, he protested that he did not teach me immorality in life but all the same I should go on till I landed then I should come for his prayer and counselling. 

I am Agoniste Homophobia, the enigmatic punching bag of fate. I am a chip of the old block and of good birth. I started life with so many disadvantages; orphanage, straying, shrimpness, impecuniosities, agoraphobia and borrowing from even the beneath and the least. My father died when I was too young to care. Measles stroke; I the sixth child and my younger brother the seventh child suffered the endemic measles. Those, whom God loves, die young. He died of the endemic while I survived it but never, ever an appreciable break from impecuniosities and drab-existence/life. From the childhood memory, I could remember that I once ate from the flesh of a carcass. My beatific mother’s death was a relief and respite to her ageless psychiatric case. I have now grown up with a mistaken policy that I don’t believe the rubbish about subordinates never taking on their superiors.

I never lived within my means. I knew that book of proverbs and epigrams say: ‘Better go to bed supperless than rise in debt. Only that which is honestly got is gain. A man in debt is caught in a net. An honest dam/dame is better than debt. First comes owing and then comes lying. It is hard to pay for bread that has been eaten. Debt is the worst poverty. Debt is an evil conscience. Be not made a beggar by banqueting upon borrowing’: I have been praying since when I know how to pray to be rich enough, who owes nothing. And I happened to read from Shakespeare’s that “Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry”. I refused to attend the scholarship interview because of the unwanted attention of the Cyclopsphemus-like Chairman of the Scholarship Board  

Whenever urchins gathered in the market place to watch two lunatics fornicating, I used to shy away from the scene in fear that one of the copulating couples might be my lunatic straying mother despite the fact that in her straying moments she did not frequent market places.  

I am Mr. Stickler-Strickler, hypercritical but now Cuckold. I valued polygamy, and I am married to two wives and observe total seclusion. I enrolled the two wives into married women school of theology. They used to go to the school under total cover of the veils.

One day I was with a visiting friend outside my house when three women; my two wives and another woman all secluded in the harem came back from the school and entered into the house. Later on amidst our discussion with my visiting friend, there came the youngest of my children complaining to me that he saw his mummy embroiled in fighting with one man inside her room. I dismissed and shunned him as a childish statement. But my friend insisted that I should honour that complaint and check to see for myself. You never know how obscure the veil/harem was. I was adamant to heed his advice but he insisted that children never tell lies, they are pragmatic and innocent, and concluded that “the greatest innocence/reverence is due to a child” I meditated that a man in the seclusion of my own home, I wanted to dismiss the suggestion with scorn, but I remember that “women are funny animals, you never know with them, and it is very difficult to find out what makes them tick”! I sprung onto my legs and went inside the house, I could not believe what I saw, it was just like a mirage, a goatee beardy man pumping in and out into my wife’s flesh. I got hold of their clothes and shouted. I discovered that the two wives connived and conspired together and have been sharing and having affair with this goatee beardy tutor who used to follow them from the school of theology in unsuspected disguise. I divorced them forthrightly, and took my time going to the circus than have wives going to this pretext school. And I later married an ex-prostitute. 

I am Mr. live and let’s live. I rose without notice after many years of slow development in the service. I happened to be the Chief Executive Officer of the melting-pot Metro, or his Excellency, if you like. And also secretary to the migrants/settlers club whose aims and objectives were to sideline the sedentary. I was lucky that God did not expose my obscure deeds to the general public. I used religion as opium to the gullible masses while I enjoyed the paraphernalia and adoration of my office. I was fully secured and protected because I believed people are led to want their deceit and servile. And for reasons best known to me, I made sure that one typical hobgoblin and confidant did not defect, in that I kept him closer to myself like my shadow, just like the leper’s bell is to his donkey. Wherever I was posted, I took him on secondment. He was as good as my mouthpiece, who also relished handsomeness and compactness of my catamite, and was caught hugging him in the office, despite the accompanied trashiness, we still cherish it. I also kept a room near my sleeping apartment for the handsome hobo near my sleeping apartment just in vis-à-vis position, in case of spontaneity of whims and caprices. I made the mundane bill boards and sign posts with strong iron metal, and they were bigger and larger than life as to pre-empt a rampaging urchins/youths, while those of the holy scriptures sign posts were made as dwarf as urea heaps, and vulnerable to nocturnal drunks and stray dogs to sniff at, and salute them with hind paws, and thereafter leaving them (sign posts) weeping in tears and shame. But the gullible did not perceive and detect it. We must pretend to follow the orthodox to hide our inability, mischief and heterodox. We are all migrants the world over, traveling to another richer and detribalized society for more wealth, more openings, more opportunities, more security, more skills and training, more amorous affairs with subordinate men and women officers, which is considered as status symbol. I employed those people who are mistakably considered to be too close to the fraternities to be my propaganda machines. I tried to appease everybody, especially my critics, because of my minute, mysterious origin and fear of discovery. I detested and prevented my Director of research and publication to not accept anything written that has to do with my biography. What I cherish most is that people are not conscious that: “Before we have a useless child, there must have been a useless elder…” I employed some alarmist and scaremonger clergies to divert attention from gossips and rumours. And I ordered that anybody found spreading information about the hugging and kissing of one catamite by my mouthpiece should be dismissed from employment. With that threat everything was quieted down. Because one’s love life and affairs should be a private thing. This will make people not to understand that a leader is not a private person/citizen but servant of the people.

I considered myself the most fortunate because I have the most handsome catamite, I used public money generously to cover up my sanctimonious and imposture acts. And now that nobody could remember that I was once caught up sodomizing my student. My wives were competing to have tube/cloned babies in this our flourishing moments. 

I and my two junior brothers were children of a promiscuous window. We got tired of always bowing to her different suitors. We pressurized her to select one to marry. She married one goatee bearded man but she refused to pack to his house because the husband was a polygamous and used to shift nights for two-two days. And that also bored us, we felt humiliated for another man to come and sleep with our mum in our late father’s house and then every morning we have to bow him obedience and obeisance. And the worst of it, every night we heard their giggling, whining and screaming of joy like giggling shop girls. And crossing with them along the only pit latrine toilet way in the early morning for their usual ritual bath. This we also pressurized our mother to pack to her lovely husband’s house or we stop him coming to our house but because she loved the man she gave in to our demand. At this, myself, my wife, my brothers and their wives considered us the most fortunate for making a good riddance of the relationship that disgusted us. 

I am a stern and disdainful man, who never allows room for compromise. One day we had a quarrel with one man. And to outdistance and outsmart me, the following morning at early hours, I came out from my room which was vis-à-vis my widowed mother’s room. My mum came out with a bucket of warm/hot water and headed to the bathroom, she came back and entered her room then as if from nowhere I saw the man we have had a quarrel with the previous day came out from the room with towel on his shoulders and headed to the bathroom. I nearly fainted but quickly shied away. In the evening time I and my senior brother contacted that old wine woman and beat her thoroughly and drove her outside the house she bought with her own sweat/money. She went near-by village and rent a room in one shebeen. We sighed relief when the woman died and buried. Before her death, when we were too young, whenever we asked her of our father, she used to tell us that we were love-children and our father died when we were too young to care. And whenever we asked her of her origin and relations, she used to say she came from the South, where a father does not matter much. After the death of the old wine, we were now family men and settled without any obscene spectacle to threaten us. Her death was a convenient one to us. This made us the most fortunate love-children because of her death and the house she left behind for us as inheritance. 

I am a Trustworthy Cleric. I, one day, paid a sort of “old friends and old times are not to be forgotten” visit. I was in the parlour room in tête-à-tête conversing with the old wine when all of a sudden the self-willed son of the old woman friend came in with a sea man’s schnapps whiskey in his hand, and sluggishly the boy looked to his mother in an astounding astonishment and asked; “Mum, who was I seeing, is this the Trustworthy Cleric I was seeing”?!! Then he turned to me and solicited that I must flog/cane him. “I swear you must flog me”. He took more shots from his whiskey bottle, and then turned to me again; “you have a beard and I have a beard too, and we know what you do in this town, paramour, fornicating with all and even flirty-married women. I swear you must flog me”! There was nothing I could do except to curse him and asked him to pass on while the old wine just looked on with “siddon look,” until the melodrama was over, when I bade her farewell. Leaving her to grumble and groan in despair and grief. I considered myself the most fortunate because with all the treachery and lechery I have been committing, I was never beset with such an extrovert, whelp and self-willed child. I even outsmarted my biological son in wooing his girl friend’s love and married her, then precluded him from entering my house. And our contrivance of making money from peoples ordeals and duping religious foreign bodies is also to be reckoned with as fortunate stature.  

I am a Lucky Chauffeur, and afterwards nicknamed a Major-in-General Shoe. I drive madam, the wife of one important personality. The husband of madam used to stay away for weeks, or months. And whenever he was away I take over his precious property that is the down below of his wife. Suddenly, he came back one night when we were deeply asleep with the madam in the boys’ quarters after the marathon. May be he checked everywhere in the main house without seeing the madam, and there we were asleep stark naked on bed. He called us “mariners wake up! You must have had a very tantric night duty”. He cursed madam, spat on her face, calling her sex object, ignoble, beast, low of the lowest. He drew from nowhere a razor blade Okapi jack knife and put it on her throat and pressed. I looked at her slit throat oozing out blood like fountain. I was shivering with fear, when he asked me to get out and that I should never allow myself to his sight forever.                                           

I am Jugurtha Barabas, alias Mr. Eloquent, or no groping of words/adjectives. I had worked with a reputed International Empire Media. My guardian was my matrilineal uncle, and there was speculation that I was a love-child. I did not let that to worry me; my eloquence created a pig leaf for me, and even made me more snobbish with exclusivity of arrogance to show how big I am. I never in all my endeavours introduced to the people the circumstances of my birth. I always enlisted on the influence of the Squire-Archie’s. I gained access to the masters through sycophancy and eloquence in praise singing them. I am no less egoistic, no less a complacent. Intrigues and greed entail betrayals, which earned me a bad reputation from my colleagues and subordinates alike. No collective or multitude praise in my favour wherever I was posted. My colleagues and other staff even used to celebrate my departure whenever I was moved/deployed to somewhere else. There was time when some retinue and I were on official trip for National Festival of Arts, the contingents from my department started ahead of me, on approaching their vehicular along the bushy jungle road, I over sighted the bus was as if stationary. I suspected it was stopped by armed robbers, and when we drew nearer I shouted to my driver to full speed ahead and outmarch and outdistance the contingents bus that the contingents should go to hell, I did not care a hoot. And wherever I was posted/deployed, I enjoyed medical allowances, itinerary and sinecure expenses than any overindulged bureaucrat. I knew I inspired fear in my masters and colleagues because of my oratorical eloquence. Thank God that the fickle finger of fate/nemesis did not point out at me, yet. 

I am the Honourable Hunger-on. I always curse and blame other people who came to my master. I was the most fortunate hanger-on because I once married the master’s old wife even though I never mated her. It happened that my master divorced her three times and there was no way she could return to him without making a binding marriage to another man entirely. This master faced pressure and blackmail from the female children of the divorced woman. They threatened to despoil his reputation if he has any. Then everything was set for my marriage with her for sometimes, or a month, and then divorces her for the master to remarry and return her to his abode. Though I had never seen her pants, never mated her, I still feel that I once married the wife of my master and this must be historic. 

I am the mother of five love-children, three females and two males. I got them when I was knocking about the world. The elderly male child was no problem but his junior brother used to corner me requesting for the whereabouts of his father, and who was he. I one day took him somewhere in the north-east and showed him the grave of  his father, that he died as a result of accident of coincidences that when I was with another suitor, he came back fuming with rage and anger and he tempted the stronger suitor and was overwhelmed and felled dead. I opened the can of worms and they understood that, and told them that to God, they (my children) were innocents. Now we live peacefully and they are prospering and aspiring children in business and academic cycles. 

I am the Butcher’s Butcher. I started from scratch as a scavenger of carcass picking at every heap and refuse. I washed and prepared the carcass to make barbecue. I was never caught doing it. I stopped it when I got enough capital to start clean butchery. I now worth millions of money on the surface but at the bottom of my mind I know that I always rob Peter to pay Paul. I also employ the services of native medicine men, oracles, witch doctors and prayer warriors to obviate and adumbrate those numerous people I have owed stupendous amount. All these fleet of flashy cars and the plots of land I have would not be sufficed to offset the burdens of debts on me, it will tantamount to passing the camel through the needle eye. I am the most fortunate in robbing Peter to pay Paul.                

I am a parvenu, alias the Hobo of the millennium. I woke up from childhood and found out that we had nothing in our house except flock of ten donkeys, and my father was a professional tiller of gravel soil. He used to cart and spread dung to subscribers. By sheer luck and with a face that could attract any pederast, I got a chauffeur work to the fourth person at the national level though we did not last long on that prestigious position because of nemesis of lying under an oath and forgery scum. And soon enough I was wooed by another formidable suitor, who made me an overseer of a county and this happened to be my moment of ascendancy and flourishing, and instead of flock of donkeys now I have fleet of cars and bungalows. I am the most fortunate because none among my peer groups attained my status. I am grateful to my suitors. I even turned a public borehole taps into my personal belonging and deprived the public tapping the water from near a graveyard.   

I am Booby Adamant, or free-care Adamant. I was a house boy to a man who has been a widower for long. My wife and I were all his properties. I attended to him in the night and my wife attended to him in the day time when he sent me on errand. I considered myself the most fortunate because I never let thing to worry me. I thought myself loose and spineless creature, and there was nothing I could do until when the right time came and we separated with my wife. This master was also a sex object to one very influential and formidable lord temporal. Was I not a care-free and aloof character, I would have committed suicide for knowing full well that my master sodomized me and fornicated with my wife. And because of this my care-free attitude I considered myself the most fortunate because all was now history; although my former wife was now a slash-price whore knocking around the town while I repented. 

I am NgeOmali the pump/fuel attendant at one petrol filling station. I started from scratch very indigent but trickery, cheating and under pumping/refueling made it possible for me to build a mansion and own plots of land. I always employed attack as the best method of defense against any weak or uneducated client, or instead to start pumping afresh I continue on previous liters reading especially if the clients happened to be gullible, naïve innocent and motorbike riders. My philosophy is: ‘If you cannot win honestly then cheat, and confess later’.    

I am Chikwandu the original vulcanizer. People were always misled to want their deceit and servile. I am a saint by day and devil by night. Vulcanizing is a pig leaf I invented to cover up my heinous and shady deeds. In the night I and my henchmen carry guns and block up roads stopping and robbing any unfortunate passers-by patronizing the road. We operate with impunity and immunity because we used to settle the authority concerned by striking a deal to allowing us some hours for operation, and even after successful operation there would be huge returns for them.                

My name is Rolling Stone, alias the Lucky Rider or Story Teller. I have my own motor bike. I pick and drop passenger, and in this my job, I have had many successful achievements. I was taxing along one G.R.A road and all of a sudden a woman waved me to stop. I hesitated, because she looked overwhelming to ride/hike a motor bike. She rode at my back and directed me where to go. We arrived to one huge and paramount house. She climbed down and solicited for the charge. I craftily told her that I don’t give price to an important woman like her, whatever she gives will be appreciated. She invited me into the house and as soon we sat down, she asked me if I would agree to fuck her. I was shocked but I managed to demand whether she was single woman on her own. All of a sudden a man appeared from within and shouted to me and held me at gun point that the woman was his wife but he doesn’t fuck women, he only fucks men. I went inside to where she led me. And what kept occurring in my mind was whether the husband was somewhere waiting for me to reciprocate what I enjoyed from his wife but fortunately enough I stealthily left with the Five Thousand money the woman gave and pleaded with me to be regular. But the fear of reciprocating that woman’s husband refrained me from making a follow-up to the woman.

In this my taxing business one was susceptible to encounter with different personalities, the good, the bad, the affluent and the pittance. I was shocked when my passenger, a young lad, busted into crying at my back seat. I asked him what happened. He told me that he was a catamite to his Excellency, the Vice, and he has nowhere to go and hide, and as a result he was disowned and forsaken by his parents, siblings and relations despite that money was no problem to him. I have become a gold fish, who have no hiding place. He told me that he used to taking two preventive pills/tablets and spray his anal-passage before his Excellency mates him. Wherever I go his Excellency must send for me, sometimes, even sent his personal plane to fetch me. On arrival to his stop-point he climbed down holding his three expensive handsets. He paid me one thousand money. An amount which I may not earn in three hard working days. And the next day my passenger was narrating how his uncle sold him to the mariner/rear-admiral. He told me that his mother introduced him to her junior brother as to assist in finding him employment. The uncle took the boy to the federal capital, and lodged the boy into a five star hotel and on the third day there the boy was asked to go and spruce/wash, and wear up his Sunday dress and stay neat like any dude could be, because Oga will come and see him, and that whatever Oga demanded he should cooperate. And very late in the night I was among the trails of young lads paraded before his Excellency to pick his choice, he picked those he was interested to sleep with that night, and we were kept as reserves for the next day. I was lucky that night to stealthily sneak out of the hotel slept in the motor park and in the morning begged for free hike to my home town about 500kms from the national capital. When my uncle came to our house to see my mum, I scornfully narrated my ordeal to him. To my sadness, he told me that I should end up a poor fellow just instead of me to agree for once, and I would be richer forever.

Form motor bike rider I turned into a chauffeur to one big man with a barren wife. The woman was desperate to have a child for the man but for years not even a missing period. I used to drive her to witch-doctors and prayer warriors. And in the course of our shuttling from one native to another, one day we were driving north in a bushy area after we had passed some clustered villages, she ordered me to stop. I slowed down and parked along the road side. The place seemed quiet and deserted; she went ahead of me inside the bush and asked me to follow. We went as per 500m from where I parked the car and sat under one big shade of a tree. I spread the rubber mat I used to carry with me as she directed me to do but my heart was beating and thumping at 180 degree cent degree. She settled on the rubber mat and asked me to go and bring her box from the car. I did that before you say Jack Robinson. She asked me to feel free that we were now friends and there was nothing like master-servant relationship. My heart was thumping as if it would knock off. And because of the overwhelming fear my prick failed to stand erect but with rigorous massaging of my erotic sides, she succeeded in putting me inside her, and we had about four rounds within the scope of two hours and after some cosmetic dusting and washing we proceeded with our trip to one famous native doctor. We met a sea of clients waiting to see him, and to our astonishment and chagrin out of the many clients the native doctor pointed the two of us and started cursing and calling us names, asking about what we did in the bush, under a big shade and told us that as a result of what we did the mistress has now conceived and that we should disappear from his place within the scope of 20 minutes, or he would order his spirit to abort the foetus.

We ashamedly left the scene only to have become more indulgent. The mistress put to bed a baby boy and that marked the opening of the portal for more breeding, and we kept a tryst for all the years. And the irony was that I have children who are brought-up and reared by somebody without him knowing that, and I didn’t have the right to claim possession.

I am successful elective member of the local House of Commons. And I am still more successful because I have married the woman I have wanted desperately to marry since times immemorial. I called her (former) husband and advised him to divorce her in his own interest and that I would give him enough money to marry another woman or else he stands to lose both the two: the wife and the money. I dismissed him with this Hobson choice. To cut it short I am now happily married to that estranged man’s former wife. The difference is clear I am the have and he is one of the haves-not. 

I am Eve Ari, the arrogant and snobbish Radio journalist working with one International Media House in God’s own Country for more than two decades. I have forsaken my native Country but only using one of its popular and dominant languages though not my mother’s tongue. In God’s own Country one does what one feels like with no prying eyes on you. There I used to over drink I enjoy Dutch-courage and become a fishwife thus in the listeners chats and voices participation programme: I contemptuously snub, turn down, ignore or cut short a caller with an alibi; that question was already asked and answered. 

I am Fine Kate Dalla, an eloquent loquacious broadcaster, a blue stocking journalist and an editor in one of the many sections of the Corporations. I always used to introduce the break of breaking the news. I have been living in the shrew Country. It is the editor’s cuts that always prevail. We make stories get hard coverage and overlook that which does not appease us. I used to make a subjective selection of what to be aired/read from our listenership opinions. Anything that ridiculed our local leaders and royalty would be put to the rubbish because I cannot foul my own nest. But most listeners are not aware of the Media hypocrisy, news agenda, the brown envelope culture and the blackmailing tactics. It is the nature of our work to flirt with every male counterpart, especially if he is a Cicero when it comes to audition. When the news is slack, we also become slack too. And each media house monitors other media closely, and we always remain rivals more especially with the Internet CAMERA Website, which heavily criticizes our Corporations.

To cut off one’s nose, or to spite one’s face, people don’t know that sex is the strongest instinct, and the longer a healthy woman can go without it, if normal not hot-pant, is four months but some cannot go without it daily. And like in any society/organization, and like every human being we also relish and lust. We are also a combination of blackmailers, alcoholics, chauvinists, misogynists, Jezebels, Isabel, racist, coquettes, wanderlust, henpecked wives, fish-woman, siren-woman, forewoman, cocky, soprano, flirty married co-workers, eloped, cuckold, gay, spinsters, freak of nature and distanced-marriages.

Gone were the days when the news must be told whether it was sweet or sour but now it is the editor’s subjective cuts that prevail, as well as the editorial white-wash. And at this desk one would be tempted to choose to be prey to the sins of the flesh, heterodox, anything. There are much to share with the poor reporters, columnists and commentators, thus you must have editorial control to guide against bias coverage for or against our interest. For instance, I would not accept a story against my friend who is married to a man suffering from pelvic waist disorder in which he could not attend to his wife’s flesh desire and needs. The wife stays with him because he is wealthy man but she was anxious to see his death so that she and her children will inherit the vast fortunes and riches. It is a pity that the husband was a wheel-chair ridden and the wife very healthy and amorous, she may as well flirt with any handsome boy she comes across with.

Another bias report was that a colleague was deceived into marriage, which lasted for one hour because of her preference to have a man with flashy cars and riches. She embarrassed a wealthy suitor who pretended to be poor because he came to courtship on motor bike as against to her expectation of having luxurious cars. She embarrassed him and drove him away. The embarrassed suitor invented a proxy wealthy individual who also courted this freak of nature colleague. He used to come to her on flashy, luxurious cars, which all belonged to the initial embarrassed suitor. And on the day the marriage was welded and solemnized, all the flashy cars were withdrawn and the poor groom came for the first time on his bike-and explained to the bride all the cars were withdrawn by the owner, he was only in possession of this poor bike and in a rented house. And on the spot the marriage ended pell-mell.

As an editor one can change words and rhythm of any articles- and say it is the only way which it must be aired. Some of us perpetrate a frightful story and then contact the potential victim whether we should go on to publish/air it.    

I am Halmat Quutal a care-free woman journalist broadcaster and multi-linguists. I am a flirty married wife to a man with Caucasoid name. Journalism is a privileged profession and when life became good for us we became detribalized but because journalists live on an island and as the watch-dogs of the society, there will be no prying eyes on our flirting, cajoling, giggling and wheedling with our male counterparts because it is the inherent nature of the work. After years of toiling, fetching of water and hewing of woods in the neighbouring country, I am now in God own Country as a journalist broadcaster. And most of the women journalists flirt with every Cicero we meet. My former editor was a sharp and vocal gadfly and in the course of his journalistic gadflying, he one day got even with one detribalized honourable member of the house of Lords, who expletively lifted the lid off the can of worms for that my unrestrained/unguided editor. The hounarable member expletively disclosed the place and the suite where the estranged editor was sodomized, and how his pederasty masters/husbands assisted him to go overseas, how they lured and brought him back home only to have made him a buffoon, ditched him to be roaming about and switching-over in vain without honour in opportunistic politics.                                                                   

I am the Royal Cuckold, the chauffeur’s bride. I was blessed with the royal-holy-touch when my husband was sent on an errand by the royalty. The royalty was in our house to bless our marriage two weeks after our wedding. And in a surprise’s surprise the royalty unexpectedly told his chauffeur, my husband, that he wanted to visit us and grace the marriage. He came and we hosted him in our ordinary parlour. Out of trickery, he sent my husband to go and buy some barbecue meat down town and with trembling hands my husband accepted the unfolded brand new money notes. The sooner he left, the royalty surged forward and came to sit near me and started kissing and hugging me until I was made naked and he allowed me to lead him into our bedroom where he went down town tunnel. I found him strongly potent and penetrative even better than my poor younger husband, and when the action was going on he kept murmuring “this is the holy-royalty-touch”. We came back into the parlour exhausted and perspiring then there came in my cuckold husband, looked suspicious but there was nothing he could do. And from that time the gate was opened for me. I could not exonerate whether the only son I have, has the royalty gene/blood. But since my legitimate husband died I remained an honourable widow. And now my son has come of age he indulges into partisan politics and is making it. He now opted to be a pliant boy to his master’s new wife who was a progeny of predators. 

I am rascally rescued tenant, alias liquidated Tenant. Rascality has its own price. For many years I suffered tenancy problems from a shylock house lord. This shylock house lord was a typical rascal. Whenever our tenancy expired and before renewing the tenancy payment, the house lord used to fetch his bucket brimmed with water and undress his clothes in the middle of the house, then start washing his whole naked body, this would be a daily occurrence until every tenant settled his tenancy fee. But to most comparative, there used to be a superlative. One of my co-tenants has a relation/brother, who was called Buffoon the Rascal. And this co-tenant narrated our ordeals to that Buffoon the Rascal. The following morning he came to the house and waited, and thereafter, the shylock house lord came into the house with his brimful bucket and got undress and started washing while all our wives and children remained indoors, then all of a sudden Buffoon the Rascal surged into the house stark naked and went to the direction of the shylock house lord tell him that he (house lord) must spruce well because I am here to fornicate and sodomize you, and the soonest Buffoon the Rascal sprung on the shylock the soonest the house lord started shouting for help, struggling to wrestle free from the grip of the Buffoon and from that dramatic day we had never heard/seen even the glimpse of the shylock house lord and even rent payment were now made to one estate agent company. Rascality has its price and sometimes the wrong person is the only right person for you.

I was a painter man. I was one day painting an upstairs house and from within a neighbouring flat house stood a very beautiful woman laughing at me with open arms, and pointing to her down below. I stood motionless on the ladder, then gathered strength and climbed down the ladder, and approached the house gate; I found it under lock and key. I turned unto my ladder and climb the wall of one uncompleted house and dropped inside the house where that curveous woman welcomed me with huge and wet kisses. We had very exhaustive times and pleaded me to be regular client through that route hence she was helpless and undersexed. She told me her husband suspected her of treachery and lechery if she went to her working place. She confessed that there was one councilor of education who assisted and dated her. And whenever the school closes for the day she proceeded to the local secretariat and wait for the councilor to close his office and go lunch at an isolated restaurant tagged: “EAT BEFORE COPULATING RESTAURANT”. I enjoyed this woman for years undetected and uncaught until when she and the husband went for medical picnic overseas because the husband suffered protestation and leaking of penal gland.  

I am Nonoji Gomma Fula, the porridge and skimpy milk tout and hawker. I peddle and hawk milk in the open commercial streets, shops and stalls and in many other business centers across the states. I am most fortunate because of my answer to a caller when I was touting and hawking porridge and milk: “come from within”, the caller demanded me. But I retorted; it was through “come from within” that I was lured and oversexed in the “Scroungers Haven Town” last years. My answer has become the best un and improper joke to date and it will never outlive its punchline.

I am Shit-too Gaia, the seasoned sodomite I deceived and lured jobless and ungainly youths with offer of jobs for sex, and I was dismissed from the local council because of forgery scum of giving offers of appointment to the victims of my deceit, whom were made into being catamites and sex objects to my city masters. I was dismissed for good because I now ride posh cars and own luxurious Houses because I am the right hand man to His Excellency, the pederast. I outdistanced and outsmarted his previous decrepit catamite. I serve as a go between/pimp and a go-getter in such fetishness… and it marked the pinnacle of my richest/wealth. Last word: To be frank as per as one can anoint and grease his anal passage and then push it to them and look away there is nothing he could not attain and achieve in this popular administration, civil to all but servants to the Lucifer. 

I am Marsam Pasha Wife of the prominent ruler in the seat of the seven city states. I am the third best wife; my second was a barren but bogey woman. And the first wife was charmed into insanity and her son was murdered by the second marriage wife in order not to be a heir-apparent. And after marrying me, my husband was through charm been made a desexual but through some contrivances I begotten twins and their sister for him though they could not inherit the throne. My husband through treachery and back hand trickery became the Royalty when he outsmarted and outdistanced his biological sage through the backing of a pederastic-strong hold of the electoral college of the king makers. He divorced the second bogey wife that rendered him desexual but they go together on overseas medical picnic and bought her a mansion in the Melting Pot Metro.  

I am Rukky Dala, the scion but detribalized because I have reneged my faith and culture for being a cohabitant to a white expatriate. Since from the beginning of my mature age I have been cohabiting with Gino Prody, an expatriate. He supplied me with everything including a trip to his Occidental country every year. He also generously provided my indigent parents with what to subsist on. I am most fortunate because I stand to inherit a vast fortunes if he died without making a will against my interest.