Video of the day
Posted by admin
-
An AnthologyRead up on a collection of dark and gripping stories based on real life incidents and catch the hidden lessons to learn from them. Also featured on NaijaStories.com
-
Nam libero tempore, cum soluta nobis... Nam libero tempore, cum soluta nobis est eligendi optio cumque nihil impedit quo minus id quod maxime placeat facere possimus, omnis voluptas assumenda est, omnis dolor repellendus. Temporibus autem quibusdam et aut...
-
Neque porro quisquam est, qui dolore... Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi architecto beatae vitae dicta sunt explicabo...
Popular Posts
-
R.I.P - Beautiful Faces of The Dana Air Crash
-
11 Reasons An Upcoming Nigerian Artiste May Never Make It
-
The Funny names Nigerians give cars
-
What happened in May?
-
Butt Crack & Fashion
-
Premonition
-
The Nigerian Lady & The Bouquet of Flowers
-
Refusing to keep up with the joneses
-
The Homosexual Brainwashing of Kids
Lionel Richie's Hello - Naija Spoof
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
This is really funny. The info says - the song of a yahoo boy in Naija when he gets nabbed rendered in Chipmunk voice.
Hmm...I'm inspired to do something funny too...lol!
Hmm...I'm inspired to do something funny too...lol!
INFIDELITY BANK - Magomago plc
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
It’s amazing how some Banks can turn out to be Oxymoron of what they claim to be. Such is the case of Fidelity Bank which made me see ‘pepper’ just because I needed to receive money sent to me by a relative via the international money transfer system called Moneygram.
It’s not the first time I’m receiving cash from a relative through moneygram, and each time I’ve gone to receive it, there has never been any issue. But on this occasion, someone sent me some money and informed me to cash it specifically at any Fidelity Bank. I wondered why only at Fidelity Bank. Later I was to learn that he wasn’t aware that Moneygram was available and receivable at other banks.
I took time off during break at work to go receive the cash sent to me and stepped into a Fidelity Bank branch on Allen Avenue, near the roundabout. I walked up to one of the cashiers concerned with the process and made my inquiry.
‘Good afternoon. Please is it possible for me to receive Moneygram cash transfers here?’ I asked leaning over the marble counter.
‘Yes sir.’ Replied the sinewy bespectacled young man seated behind the counter.
‘Okay. I’d like to receive some cash that was transferred to me.’
‘Do you have an account with us?’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry but you have to have an account with us before you can receive any money transfer’
I looked at him, totally dumbfounded.
‘Excuse me? When did one have to have an account to receive money transfer?’
‘That’s the directive sir. You can speak to that lady seated there’ He pointed towards a seating arrangement with two ladies that looked like the customer service area.
I walked over to the desk and made my complaint. I got the same reply and that it was the new order from above.
I left the bank in anger.
Across the road leading to Opebi was GT Bank. Just to satisfy my curiosity, I went in to verify a fact – whether I needed to have an account with them to be able to access money transfer via Western Union which they operated. They told me I didn’t need to.
I made for the inquiry desk and was told the same thing – I needed to have an account with them to receive the money transfer.
I left the bank in a fit. I said to hell with the cash and almost called the relative to withdraw his money but wifey told me to still chill. She made calls to a friend in another bank about how this Moneygram thing works. The friend told her that there is no such thing as having an account before you can access Moneygram and that you could collect your cash at any Moneygram point!
To be sure, we made our way to a UBA branch at Anthony which operated Moneygram. Within minutes we had received the transferred money and verified ourselves. And nobody asked us to open any yeye account!
This got me wondering – WHAT THE HECK WAS FIDELITY BANK UP TO? I had to conclude that there was ‘magomago’ going on in that bank. They probably needed to get people to open more accounts to meet CBN deadlines so they went ahead to start this stupid lie that you needed to have an account to access any money transfer. They even claimed that it was a directive from CBN!
If you needed to have an account to access a money transfer then it defeats the purpose of transfer giants such as Western Union and Moneygram. Maybe this is why this bank is not so popular with most people. While trying to find a way to get the cash, I had gone round my office asking who had a Fidelity account. I found no one.
Fidelity Bank’s ads echo the slogan ‘we are fidelity, we keep our word’ but I doubt the sincerity and honesty in that line after what I’d gone through. It was a sheer show of trickery and dishonesty; a total oxymoron to what they claim to stand for. I’m just thankful I have a VERY good reason to never bank with them.
Who dash them that name self?
It’s not the first time I’m receiving cash from a relative through moneygram, and each time I’ve gone to receive it, there has never been any issue. But on this occasion, someone sent me some money and informed me to cash it specifically at any Fidelity Bank. I wondered why only at Fidelity Bank. Later I was to learn that he wasn’t aware that Moneygram was available and receivable at other banks.
I took time off during break at work to go receive the cash sent to me and stepped into a Fidelity Bank branch on Allen Avenue, near the roundabout. I walked up to one of the cashiers concerned with the process and made my inquiry.
‘Good afternoon. Please is it possible for me to receive Moneygram cash transfers here?’ I asked leaning over the marble counter.
‘Yes sir.’ Replied the sinewy bespectacled young man seated behind the counter.
‘Okay. I’d like to receive some cash that was transferred to me.’
‘Do you have an account with us?’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry but you have to have an account with us before you can receive any money transfer’
I looked at him, totally dumbfounded.
‘Excuse me? When did one have to have an account to receive money transfer?’
‘That’s the directive sir. You can speak to that lady seated there’ He pointed towards a seating arrangement with two ladies that looked like the customer service area.
I walked over to the desk and made my complaint. I got the same reply and that it was the new order from above.
I left the bank in anger.
Across the road leading to Opebi was GT Bank. Just to satisfy my curiosity, I went in to verify a fact – whether I needed to have an account with them to be able to access money transfer via Western Union which they operated. They told me I didn’t need to.
Two days later I visited another Fidelity Bank just to be sure that this account-before-receiving-transfers thing isn’t a ruse. It was a Fidelity Bank branch near Fadeyi bus stop on Ikorodu Road (pictured above). I went with wifey this time.
I made for the inquiry desk and was told the same thing – I needed to have an account with them to receive the money transfer.
I left the bank in a fit. I said to hell with the cash and almost called the relative to withdraw his money but wifey told me to still chill. She made calls to a friend in another bank about how this Moneygram thing works. The friend told her that there is no such thing as having an account before you can access Moneygram and that you could collect your cash at any Moneygram point!
To be sure, we made our way to a UBA branch at Anthony which operated Moneygram. Within minutes we had received the transferred money and verified ourselves. And nobody asked us to open any yeye account!
This got me wondering – WHAT THE HECK WAS FIDELITY BANK UP TO? I had to conclude that there was ‘magomago’ going on in that bank. They probably needed to get people to open more accounts to meet CBN deadlines so they went ahead to start this stupid lie that you needed to have an account to access any money transfer. They even claimed that it was a directive from CBN!
If you needed to have an account to access a money transfer then it defeats the purpose of transfer giants such as Western Union and Moneygram. Maybe this is why this bank is not so popular with most people. While trying to find a way to get the cash, I had gone round my office asking who had a Fidelity account. I found no one.
Fidelity Bank’s ads echo the slogan ‘we are fidelity, we keep our word’ but I doubt the sincerity and honesty in that line after what I’d gone through. It was a sheer show of trickery and dishonesty; a total oxymoron to what they claim to stand for. I’m just thankful I have a VERY good reason to never bank with them.
Who dash them that name self?
MBGN - Bordello of Deceit?
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Got home late a few days ago and turned on the TV. The station on air was Silverbird and the programme being shown was the Most Beautiful Girl in Nigeria Pageant. I’m usually not a sucker for shows like these because I’ve always believed that there’s a lot of deceit going on there. The only segment that I usually look forward to watching in most cases would be the question and answer session where you’d get to know who the beauty without brains is.
But then, how do you know if some of the questions haven’t been sneaked out to some favored contestants? (Like the popularly known cheating arrangements you get when it comes to Jamb, WAEC or NECO exams).
Methinks the MBGN is a bucket load of lies and just a sensational claptrap to get money spent, free ‘bushmeat’ and build credibility for the outfit behind it.
I’ll never forget an old MBGN pageant that took place sometime in the late 1990s or thereabout where almost all the contestants could barely speak English! It was a shocking barrage of total annihilation of the English language; majority of the girls fumbled on the mic with more confidence than that of Rita of Koko mansion fame. At the end, we were forced to conclude that they had gone to the villages to harvest these girls to ‘fill in the gaps’.
It was the most hilarious pageant I had ever watched and its memory never eludes me.
I never bothered to watch much of the other MBGNs enough to spot more hanky panky until this last one.
It’s 2010 and MBGN hits the limelight again and once again, they played another fast one. And what is it this time? Fake contestants or as they call them - ‘delegates’. About 80% of these contestants were Igbo girls scattered to represent states they probably knew nothing about. The mismatching was alarming; Igbo girls representing Yoruba and Hausa states, Yoruba girls representing Hausa states – did I mention that there were only about 2 or 3 Yoruba girls there? At least those are the ones I recognized. Igbo girls just full everywhere. Please tell me, does this mismatching make any sense?
And again looking very well I sooo much doubt those girls were bearing their real ages! You’ll see one passed as 18 year old, yet you see cellulite of a twenty something year old playing all over her thighs or faces that have seen better days than a past-pubescent youngster. The swimsuit session burnt their cables; majority of the body textures looked ‘very experienced’. Don’t ask me how I knew that; just take it that I’m very observant.
Sorry if this article hurts any feelings but this MBGN pageant was a farce; an entertainment stunt and not a real contest to find out the best in the true sense. Maybe it used to be good before but now its lost it’s real aim. No vex; I no dey see wayo make I no spit my opinion, period!
Warning: If you're a fan, devotee or lover of MBGN, you might find this article disconcerting!
But then, how do you know if some of the questions haven’t been sneaked out to some favored contestants? (Like the popularly known cheating arrangements you get when it comes to Jamb, WAEC or NECO exams).
Methinks the MBGN is a bucket load of lies and just a sensational claptrap to get money spent, free ‘bushmeat’ and build credibility for the outfit behind it.
I’ll never forget an old MBGN pageant that took place sometime in the late 1990s or thereabout where almost all the contestants could barely speak English! It was a shocking barrage of total annihilation of the English language; majority of the girls fumbled on the mic with more confidence than that of Rita of Koko mansion fame. At the end, we were forced to conclude that they had gone to the villages to harvest these girls to ‘fill in the gaps’.
It was the most hilarious pageant I had ever watched and its memory never eludes me.
I never bothered to watch much of the other MBGNs enough to spot more hanky panky until this last one.
It’s 2010 and MBGN hits the limelight again and once again, they played another fast one. And what is it this time? Fake contestants or as they call them - ‘delegates’. About 80% of these contestants were Igbo girls scattered to represent states they probably knew nothing about. The mismatching was alarming; Igbo girls representing Yoruba and Hausa states, Yoruba girls representing Hausa states – did I mention that there were only about 2 or 3 Yoruba girls there? At least those are the ones I recognized. Igbo girls just full everywhere. Please tell me, does this mismatching make any sense?
It gets me thinking that there’s more to it than meets your eyes when you watch this show – did some people play showbiz politics? Did ‘congos get shined’ to get favored? What criteria did they use in judging the winner? I heard the host talking about votes gathered from judges - Wetin dem judge? Was it the best ‘performer’? (Don’t ask me in what).
And again looking very well I sooo much doubt those girls were bearing their real ages! You’ll see one passed as 18 year old, yet you see cellulite of a twenty something year old playing all over her thighs or faces that have seen better days than a past-pubescent youngster. The swimsuit session burnt their cables; majority of the body textures looked ‘very experienced’. Don’t ask me how I knew that; just take it that I’m very observant.
Sorry if this article hurts any feelings but this MBGN pageant was a farce; an entertainment stunt and not a real contest to find out the best in the true sense. Maybe it used to be good before but now its lost it’s real aim. No vex; I no dey see wayo make I no spit my opinion, period!
Selling Death
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
I remember the week the news hit everywhere that young rap artiste Dagrin, had passed on after an automobile accident. Everyone, even those who never heard the guy’s music acted like they were affected. Those who never heard his music before listened to it for the first time and began to make comments on what a brilliant and talented lyricist he was.
And the Jimmy Jatt jumpoff spin off on a CD, who knows? It might be Jimmy Jatt cashing in on making his cut from the death of the young crooner.
NB: I don't know if I'm the only one that noticed this but oddly enough, Tupac, Biggie and Dagrin all sang songs about their dying before their deaths. The songs in question all sounded like premonitions. Is there a jinx that if artistes sing about their deaths, they're sigining a death warant? Creepy.
Soon guys in my office went ahead to buy his CDs from those selling on the streets and before you know it, it became what was being played in the offices. Whenever you drive through the traffic jams, you’d come across street hawkers parading his audio and video CDs.
Last week Friday, we had our monthly ‘village meeting’ (A TGIF thingy) in the office and they had a DJ over to play some music. I was shocked when I heard the DJ playing a Dagrin rap song that was actually performed live on a show on TV – Jimmy Jatt’s Jumpoff – where guest rap artistes had to freestyle to DJ Jimmy Jatts mixes on the console. That was never meant to be on CD but now it was.
Where am I going with all this?
I’ve always heard that in the world of nasty showbiz strategies, sex and violence sells. And this is no wonder with all we see happening on our screens in movies and music.
But I guess there’s one other thing that sells that people don’t really make mention of – except probably those who make money from it and that is – Death.
It’s amazing how death can increase sales and recognition of the late artiste in question. And we see it happening everywhere, where people cashed in on a celebrity’s death.
When Tupac Shakur died, his albums became repackaged; tracks that were never released before suddenly came out. His poetry came out on CDs and today he has sort of become a phenomenon.
Biggie’s post mortem album became a hit after his death and as well as the song that was sang in his memory by his then producer Puffy.
After Michael Jackson’s death ‘This is it’ was released and it was a smash hit.
Now it’s happening in the case of Dagrin. Artistes who featured Dagrin and who might be releasing soon should probably expect sales of their albums to go up.
I remember watching Teju Babyface’s show. They showed a pilot edition last week and it featured Dagrin in a performance then an interview with Teju. If we had ratings for TV shows as they do in the US, Teju’s ratings would have probably gone high for that show.
And the Jimmy Jatt jumpoff spin off on a CD, who knows? It might be Jimmy Jatt cashing in on making his cut from the death of the young crooner.
No doubt about it, death sells but it’s not the favorite option of any artiste hoping to hit the charts.
NB: I don't know if I'm the only one that noticed this but oddly enough, Tupac, Biggie and Dagrin all sang songs about their dying before their deaths. The songs in question all sounded like premonitions. Is there a jinx that if artistes sing about their deaths, they're sigining a death warant? Creepy.
The Chronicles X - Boomerang 2
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday. 11pm
A big diesel-powered generating plant sounded into the night as it powered the Chief’s big mansion with electricity. There had been a power cut that evening which had thrown the estate into darkness. But within minutes, many houses became lit as generators burst into life. In a high brow estate like this, almost everyone had a generating set or plant.
Chief Osagie was seated in his living room watching a satellite news broadcast when the deadly looking trio walked in all dressed in black casual outfits like they were from some fraternity. Only the leader wore a jacket. This time however, they were without their sunshades.
Apart from the bushy eye-browed leader, the other two had deadlier looking eyes; one had a small scar below his left eye which looked slightly faded in the pupil; no doubt, a testimony to a violent lifestyle.
‘Gentlemen welcome. So how did it go? Do take a seat. What do I offer you?’ The Chief was so eager to hear the gory details.
The leader of the trio smiled and shook his head.
‘No thank you, Chief.’
Chief Osagie gave a hearty laugh.
‘You men are the most business strict persons I've ever met. At least you’ve done the job. Why not get down to a bit of pleasure, eh?’
‘We're not done yet with our job.’
Osagie dropped the TV remote, a nasty frown settled on his face. His jovial and expectant mood instantly gave way to an enraged one.
‘What on earth are you.., you said two days!’
The leader ignoring the Chief’s outburst, slipped his hand into the inner lapel of his -jacket, drew out a gun with a silencer device attached to it and caressed its glittering nozzle.
‘Actually Chief, we did get to Alfred Osindele but he was a higher bidder and offered 6 million for your own head.’
‘Whaaat!’ screamed Chief Osagie and within a micro second after his outburst watched as the leader pointed the pistol at him and squeeze the trigger thrice.
Concluded
© Story - Afronuts
© Illustrations - Sean Baronie
Kimson Masters
A big diesel-powered generating plant sounded into the night as it powered the Chief’s big mansion with electricity. There had been a power cut that evening which had thrown the estate into darkness. But within minutes, many houses became lit as generators burst into life. In a high brow estate like this, almost everyone had a generating set or plant.
Chief Osagie was seated in his living room watching a satellite news broadcast when the deadly looking trio walked in all dressed in black casual outfits like they were from some fraternity. Only the leader wore a jacket. This time however, they were without their sunshades.
Apart from the bushy eye-browed leader, the other two had deadlier looking eyes; one had a small scar below his left eye which looked slightly faded in the pupil; no doubt, a testimony to a violent lifestyle.
‘Gentlemen welcome. So how did it go? Do take a seat. What do I offer you?’ The Chief was so eager to hear the gory details.
The leader of the trio smiled and shook his head.
‘No thank you, Chief.’
Chief Osagie gave a hearty laugh.
‘You men are the most business strict persons I've ever met. At least you’ve done the job. Why not get down to a bit of pleasure, eh?’
‘We're not done yet with our job.’
Osagie dropped the TV remote, a nasty frown settled on his face. His jovial and expectant mood instantly gave way to an enraged one.
‘What on earth are you.., you said two days!’
The leader ignoring the Chief’s outburst, slipped his hand into the inner lapel of his -jacket, drew out a gun with a silencer device attached to it and caressed its glittering nozzle.
‘Actually Chief, we did get to Alfred Osindele but he was a higher bidder and offered 6 million for your own head.’
‘Whaaat!’ screamed Chief Osagie and within a micro second after his outburst watched as the leader pointed the pistol at him and squeeze the trigger thrice.
Concluded
© Story - Afronuts
© Illustrations - Sean Baronie
Kimson Masters
The Chronicles X - Boomerang
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Saturday. 10pm.
Chief Osagie starred hard into the cold eyes of the three men standing before him. They created a contrast to the luxury of the big spacious living room filled with tasteful furniture; Persian rugs, Egyptian fabric upholstered seats, marble floors and crystal-like glass tables and stools. While everything around them carried the aura of class and opulence, they bore a mean and repelling aura that sent huge goose bumps round your skin. They were all casually dressed in jeans and polo or T-shirts, each one of a different shade and colour. The only similarity in their menacing looks was the dark shades and stone cold expression each one of them wore on his face.
Chief Osagie chuckled. Why on earth were they wearing shades indoors? Is it a fraternal thing or was it just another influence of the hip culture of wearing shades to look cool or deadly? The Chief pulled lightly on his big brown cigar, puffed into the heavily air-conditioned atmosphere and crushed part of the burning embers of his fat Cuban in a marble ashtray.
‘Gentlemen,’ Chief Osagie began, ‘I have seen your ‘resume’ and I’m quite impressed.’
His listeners said nothing but looked on, their eyes seemingly colder and darker than the shades they wore.
‘I also heard you are the best in the business and always do a neat job. Besides that, you only chose to work for the highest bidder, am I right?"
The heftiest amongst them with the strongest composure which suggested that he was the leader, nodded in such a slow manner it unnerved the Chief a little.
‘I heard that Chief Nwanko bid you to work for him for 1.5 million but because I need your service more urgently and since you go to the highest bidder, I decided to hire you for a higher amount – 3 million.’
The hefty one smiled. It was a warm smile that instantly diffused the tension in the air. He turned to look at his shady comrades and they acknowledged with affirmative nods.
‘Go on. We’re listening’, came the response from the leader of the trio. His voice was gentle yet cold..
‘Good’, said the Chief crushing another burnt butt in a beautiful ashtray. For a moment he paused as his eyes caught sight of the untouched brandy his maid had served his guests. He waved at it.
‘Gentlemen, feel at home, have some brandy’.
‘Sorry Chief, but we are here for business and not pleasure’.
The statement caught the Chief a bit off balance. He felt slighted. He was not a
stickler for easily swallowing a blunt refusal over a seemingly good gesture. He opened his mouth to make a counter statement but thought the better of it. At least one thing was certain from the impression they were creating; the fact that they were serious businessmen.
He picked up a large envelope and tossed it on the table in-front of his dark guests.
‘His name is Alfred Osindele. A very powerful businessman whose transport business seems to be the main interest of the city. Mine used to be the best but Osindele has started coming up with some cunning ideas that threatens to dwarf my profits in the transport business. I want you to eliminate him. He is an obstacle to my continuous booming success.’
The leader of the trio picked up the envelope, pulled out the documents, then took off his shades to get a clearer view of the documents and photos.
The Chief got a good look at his face; bushy eyebrows, clear bright eyes and a gaze that seemed to pierce into one’s soul.
‘I thought you had a very good reason for wanting him out of business’, the leader finally spoke, his roving cold eyes sidetracking the Chief's own.
The Chief gave him a nasty look and chewed angrily on his cigar to hide his building fury. The man was beginning to get on his nerve.
‘Look, I'm offering you 3 million to kill the guy. Does it concern you what reasons I have for doing that?’
He was beginning to lose his cool but his guests were not rattled. At a signal from their leader, they promptly stood up. He gave the Chief his last word.
‘Expect Alfred Osindele to be deceased in two days time’. And with that they left without saying goodbye.
To be continued...
Chief Osagie starred hard into the cold eyes of the three men standing before him. They created a contrast to the luxury of the big spacious living room filled with tasteful furniture; Persian rugs, Egyptian fabric upholstered seats, marble floors and crystal-like glass tables and stools. While everything around them carried the aura of class and opulence, they bore a mean and repelling aura that sent huge goose bumps round your skin. They were all casually dressed in jeans and polo or T-shirts, each one of a different shade and colour. The only similarity in their menacing looks was the dark shades and stone cold expression each one of them wore on his face.
Chief Osagie chuckled. Why on earth were they wearing shades indoors? Is it a fraternal thing or was it just another influence of the hip culture of wearing shades to look cool or deadly? The Chief pulled lightly on his big brown cigar, puffed into the heavily air-conditioned atmosphere and crushed part of the burning embers of his fat Cuban in a marble ashtray.
‘Gentlemen,’ Chief Osagie began, ‘I have seen your ‘resume’ and I’m quite impressed.’
His listeners said nothing but looked on, their eyes seemingly colder and darker than the shades they wore.
‘I also heard you are the best in the business and always do a neat job. Besides that, you only chose to work for the highest bidder, am I right?"
The heftiest amongst them with the strongest composure which suggested that he was the leader, nodded in such a slow manner it unnerved the Chief a little.
‘I heard that Chief Nwanko bid you to work for him for 1.5 million but because I need your service more urgently and since you go to the highest bidder, I decided to hire you for a higher amount – 3 million.’
The hefty one smiled. It was a warm smile that instantly diffused the tension in the air. He turned to look at his shady comrades and they acknowledged with affirmative nods.
‘Go on. We’re listening’, came the response from the leader of the trio. His voice was gentle yet cold..
‘Good’, said the Chief crushing another burnt butt in a beautiful ashtray. For a moment he paused as his eyes caught sight of the untouched brandy his maid had served his guests. He waved at it.
‘Gentlemen, feel at home, have some brandy’.
‘Sorry Chief, but we are here for business and not pleasure’.
The statement caught the Chief a bit off balance. He felt slighted. He was not a
stickler for easily swallowing a blunt refusal over a seemingly good gesture. He opened his mouth to make a counter statement but thought the better of it. At least one thing was certain from the impression they were creating; the fact that they were serious businessmen.
He picked up a large envelope and tossed it on the table in-front of his dark guests.
‘His name is Alfred Osindele. A very powerful businessman whose transport business seems to be the main interest of the city. Mine used to be the best but Osindele has started coming up with some cunning ideas that threatens to dwarf my profits in the transport business. I want you to eliminate him. He is an obstacle to my continuous booming success.’
The leader of the trio picked up the envelope, pulled out the documents, then took off his shades to get a clearer view of the documents and photos.
The Chief got a good look at his face; bushy eyebrows, clear bright eyes and a gaze that seemed to pierce into one’s soul.
‘I thought you had a very good reason for wanting him out of business’, the leader finally spoke, his roving cold eyes sidetracking the Chief's own.
The Chief gave him a nasty look and chewed angrily on his cigar to hide his building fury. The man was beginning to get on his nerve.
‘Look, I'm offering you 3 million to kill the guy. Does it concern you what reasons I have for doing that?’
He was beginning to lose his cool but his guests were not rattled. At a signal from their leader, they promptly stood up. He gave the Chief his last word.
‘Expect Alfred Osindele to be deceased in two days time’. And with that they left without saying goodbye.
To be continued...
Next on The Chronicles X...
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Monday, May 10, 2010
BOOMERANG
How far would you go to stay successful?
One man went the diabolic lenght and learnt that
no matter how high you go,
someone can still beat you to it.
The Murderous Innocents 2
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Apparently, the issue of child soldiers has origins far back than I expected. After coming across this info, I came to realize that it was a phenomenon that pervaded almost any nation that went to war!
According to a report as stated by stolenchildhood.net, more than 120,000 children under 18 years of age have participated in armed conflicts across Africa. Some of these children are no more than 7 or 8 years of age.
Children as young as 10 worked as fighters, spies and domestic workers, some groups abducted girls into sexual slavery.
In addition to the obvious risks to children of participation in armed conflict - which apply equally to adults - children are often at an added disadvantage as combatants. As a result of being widely perceived to be dispensable commodities, they tend to receive little or no training before being thrust into the front line. Reports from Burundi and Congo-Brazzaville suggest that they are often massacred in combat as a result.
Image source
Throughout history and in many cultures, children have been extensively involved in military campaigns even when such practices were supposedly against cultural morals.
The earliest mentions of minors being involved in wars come from antiquity. It was customary for youths in the Mediterranean basin to serve as aides, charioteers and armor bearers to adult warriors. Examples of this practice can be found in the Bible (such as David's service to King Saul), in Hittite and Egyptian art, and in Greek mythology (such as the story of Hercules and Hylas), philosophy and literature.
Also in a practice dating back to antiquity, children were routinely taken on campaign, together with the rest of a military man's family, as part of the baggage. This exposed them to harm from rearguard attacks, such as the one at the battle of Agincourt, where the retainers and children of the English army were massacred by the French.
The Romans also made use of youths in war, though it was understood that it was unwise and cruel to use children in war, and Plutarch implies that regulations required youths to be at least sixteen years of age.
In medieval Europe, young boys from about twelve years of age were used as military aides ("squires"), though in theory their role in actual combat was limited. The so-called Children's Crusade in 1212 recruited thousands of children as untrained soldiers under the assumption that divine power would enable them to conquer the enemy, although none of the children actually entered combat; according to the legend, they were instead sold into slavery. While most scholars no longer believe that the Children's Crusade consisted solely, or even mostly, of children, it nonetheless exemplifies an era in which the entire family took part in a war effort.
Young boys often took part in battles during early modern warfare. One of their more visible roles was as the ubiquitous "drummer boy" – the film Waterloo (based on the Battle of Waterloo) graphically depicts French drummer boys leading Napoleon's initial attack, only to be gunned down by Allied soldiers.
*Drummer boy John Clem during the American Civil War
Image Source
During the age of sail, young boys formed part of the crew of British Royal Navy ships and were responsible for many important tasks including bringing powder and shot from the ship's magazine to the gun crews. These children were called "powder monkeys".
During the Siege of Mafeking in the Second Boer War, Robert Baden-Powell recruited and trained 12-15 year old boys as scouts, thus freeing up the limited number of men for the actual fighting. The boys' success led indirectly to Baden-Powell founding the Boy Scouts, a youth organization originally run along military lines. At the outbreak of the First World War, boys as young as 13 were caught up in the overwhelming tide of patriotism and in huge numbers cheerfully enlisted for active service others to avoid the harsh and dreary lives they had working in British industry. (Now you know the reason the Boys Scout was actaully formed!)
By a law signed by Nicholas I of Russia in 1827, a disproportionate number of Jewish boys, known as the cantonists, were forced into military training establishments to serve in the army. The 25-year conscription term officially commenced at the age of 18, but boys as young as eight were routinely taken to fulfill the hard quota.
In World War II, children frequently fought in insurrections. During the Holocaust, Jews of all ages, including teenagers participated in the Jewish resistance simply in order to survive.
A number of child soldiers served in the Soviet Union's armed forces during the war. In some cases, orphans also unofficially joined the Soviet Red Army. Such children were affectionately known as "son of the regiment" and sometimes willingly performed military missions such as reconnaissance.
*Hitler Youth (Hitlerjugend)
Image Source
On the opposite side, Hitler Youth (Hitlerjugend) was an organization in Nazi Germany that trained youth physically and indoctrinated them with Nazi ideology to the point of fanaticism. Lewis D. Eigen, in his article on the history of the "normality" of use of child soldiers observed:
"The Germans equipped an entire SS Panzer Tank Division and manned it with 16 and 17-year-old boys from the Hitler Youth brigades. As Germany suffered more casualties, more teenagers volunteered and were accepted, initially as reserve troops but then as regulars. The German ethic of the boy soldier not only encouraged such service but towards the end of the war, the Germans even drafted boys as young as 12 into military service. These children saw extensive action and were among the fiercest and effective German defenders in the Battle of Berlin."
*German kid prisoners of war in the streets of Berlin, May 1945
Image Source
In some cases, youth organizations were, and still are, militarized in order to instill discipline in their ranks, sometimes to indoctrinate them with propaganda and prepare for subsequent military service.
In preparation for the possible invasion of Japan by the Allies, Japanese military authorities also trained young teens to charge the enemy with bamboo spears. Prior to that, Japanese school children experienced increased military training introduced through their physical education classes, with military drills becoming a staple part of their curriculum.
There's so much info on the child soldier phenomenon but I've tried to simplify key info as much as possible from what I gathered. And I guess from the look of things, its not a new thing but something thats always been there and part of history.
*Sudanese child soldier
Image Source
I guess it makes sense to say, its a necessary evil that comes with wars, and I guess the more we reduce wars, the more we reduce the risk of annihilating future generations on bloody battlefields.
According to a report as stated by stolenchildhood.net, more than 120,000 children under 18 years of age have participated in armed conflicts across Africa. Some of these children are no more than 7 or 8 years of age.
Children as young as 10 worked as fighters, spies and domestic workers, some groups abducted girls into sexual slavery.
In addition to the obvious risks to children of participation in armed conflict - which apply equally to adults - children are often at an added disadvantage as combatants. As a result of being widely perceived to be dispensable commodities, they tend to receive little or no training before being thrust into the front line. Reports from Burundi and Congo-Brazzaville suggest that they are often massacred in combat as a result.
Image source
Throughout history and in many cultures, children have been extensively involved in military campaigns even when such practices were supposedly against cultural morals.
The earliest mentions of minors being involved in wars come from antiquity. It was customary for youths in the Mediterranean basin to serve as aides, charioteers and armor bearers to adult warriors. Examples of this practice can be found in the Bible (such as David's service to King Saul), in Hittite and Egyptian art, and in Greek mythology (such as the story of Hercules and Hylas), philosophy and literature.
Also in a practice dating back to antiquity, children were routinely taken on campaign, together with the rest of a military man's family, as part of the baggage. This exposed them to harm from rearguard attacks, such as the one at the battle of Agincourt, where the retainers and children of the English army were massacred by the French.
The Romans also made use of youths in war, though it was understood that it was unwise and cruel to use children in war, and Plutarch implies that regulations required youths to be at least sixteen years of age.
In medieval Europe, young boys from about twelve years of age were used as military aides ("squires"), though in theory their role in actual combat was limited. The so-called Children's Crusade in 1212 recruited thousands of children as untrained soldiers under the assumption that divine power would enable them to conquer the enemy, although none of the children actually entered combat; according to the legend, they were instead sold into slavery. While most scholars no longer believe that the Children's Crusade consisted solely, or even mostly, of children, it nonetheless exemplifies an era in which the entire family took part in a war effort.
Young boys often took part in battles during early modern warfare. One of their more visible roles was as the ubiquitous "drummer boy" – the film Waterloo (based on the Battle of Waterloo) graphically depicts French drummer boys leading Napoleon's initial attack, only to be gunned down by Allied soldiers.
*Drummer boy John Clem during the American Civil War
Image Source
During the age of sail, young boys formed part of the crew of British Royal Navy ships and were responsible for many important tasks including bringing powder and shot from the ship's magazine to the gun crews. These children were called "powder monkeys".
During the Siege of Mafeking in the Second Boer War, Robert Baden-Powell recruited and trained 12-15 year old boys as scouts, thus freeing up the limited number of men for the actual fighting. The boys' success led indirectly to Baden-Powell founding the Boy Scouts, a youth organization originally run along military lines. At the outbreak of the First World War, boys as young as 13 were caught up in the overwhelming tide of patriotism and in huge numbers cheerfully enlisted for active service others to avoid the harsh and dreary lives they had working in British industry. (Now you know the reason the Boys Scout was actaully formed!)
By a law signed by Nicholas I of Russia in 1827, a disproportionate number of Jewish boys, known as the cantonists, were forced into military training establishments to serve in the army. The 25-year conscription term officially commenced at the age of 18, but boys as young as eight were routinely taken to fulfill the hard quota.
In World War II, children frequently fought in insurrections. During the Holocaust, Jews of all ages, including teenagers participated in the Jewish resistance simply in order to survive.
A number of child soldiers served in the Soviet Union's armed forces during the war. In some cases, orphans also unofficially joined the Soviet Red Army. Such children were affectionately known as "son of the regiment" and sometimes willingly performed military missions such as reconnaissance.
*Hitler Youth (Hitlerjugend)
Image Source
On the opposite side, Hitler Youth (Hitlerjugend) was an organization in Nazi Germany that trained youth physically and indoctrinated them with Nazi ideology to the point of fanaticism. Lewis D. Eigen, in his article on the history of the "normality" of use of child soldiers observed:
"The Germans equipped an entire SS Panzer Tank Division and manned it with 16 and 17-year-old boys from the Hitler Youth brigades. As Germany suffered more casualties, more teenagers volunteered and were accepted, initially as reserve troops but then as regulars. The German ethic of the boy soldier not only encouraged such service but towards the end of the war, the Germans even drafted boys as young as 12 into military service. These children saw extensive action and were among the fiercest and effective German defenders in the Battle of Berlin."
*German kid prisoners of war in the streets of Berlin, May 1945
Image Source
In some cases, youth organizations were, and still are, militarized in order to instill discipline in their ranks, sometimes to indoctrinate them with propaganda and prepare for subsequent military service.
In preparation for the possible invasion of Japan by the Allies, Japanese military authorities also trained young teens to charge the enemy with bamboo spears. Prior to that, Japanese school children experienced increased military training introduced through their physical education classes, with military drills becoming a staple part of their curriculum.
There's so much info on the child soldier phenomenon but I've tried to simplify key info as much as possible from what I gathered. And I guess from the look of things, its not a new thing but something thats always been there and part of history.
*Sudanese child soldier
Image Source
I guess it makes sense to say, its a necessary evil that comes with wars, and I guess the more we reduce wars, the more we reduce the risk of annihilating future generations on bloody battlefields.
The Murderous Innocents 1
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Thursday, April 22, 2010
I remember the first time I saw the movie ‘Hotel Rwanda’. I was shocked to the marrow and prayed that such genocide would not happen in Nigeria (Though we’ve had similarly close cases already!). Then I saw ‘Sometimes in April’ which was far more horrific than ‘Hotel Rwanda’ and I almost wept as I imagined these terrible things happening to people in Africa.
The first ever of such movies I saw was ‘The Rise and Fall of Idi Amin’, a movie so real in its depiction that rumors were rife amongst we ignorant ones that it was real life being documented.
‘Blood Diamond’ exposed the brutal shedding of blood and war by greedy folks all because of diamonds. The ‘Long sleeve or short sleeve’ scene scared my thoughts vividly.
‘Lord of War’ showcased how weapons were illegally sold to African Rebels to help them gain ground over the war. I can never forget the credit opening scene which followed the process of a bullet being manufactured up to the point it ends up being fired into the skull of a child.
More movies everyday depicting the horrors of civil wars and genocides in Africa have been made but I came across a movie with a shocking and very different perspective recently that made me go looking for facts.
I’m talking of Jean-Stephane Sauvaire’s 2008 movie, ‘Johnny Mad Dog’
The movie was extracted from a book by the same tile, written by Emmanuel Dongala, a Congo citizen who fled the country in 1997 during its civil war and now lives in western Massachusetts.
The film focuses on a group of child soldier commandos, led by 15 year old Johnny, who are part of a Rebel faction bent on seizing control of war-torn Congo. They rob, pillage and slay everything in their path and bear names like No Good Advice, Small Devil, Jungle Rocket, and Young Major.
At the same time we also follow the story of Laokolé, also the same age, who simply wants to finish high school and become an engineer. She tries to escape her war torn country with her little brother Fofo, 8 and in the process crosses paths with Johnny as the story progresses.
The acting of the children in this movie was so realistic that I went online on a fact finding mission as to how Jean-Stephane Sauvaire achieved this. I discovered that the kids were actually former child soldiers from the Liberian civil war. They didn’t need to be actors; all they had to do was act what they did during the war. The location shoot was actually in Liberia which had a lot of war torn areas that were apt for the scenes.
To imagine kids like this fighting in the war terrified me; they were younger, had more energy than adults, that apart from being introduced to all manner of drugs and ‘jazz’ to enhance their performance, and they were very deadly as shown by the bloodthirsty No good advice, Johnny’s second in command.
My mind wandered further. How on earth did child soldiers come into existence? Almost, if not every war in Africa has had the factor of kid soldiers being recruited to fight in the war. Is it the poverty level or some other third world factor that makes this happen? I went a-searching and I found shocking results…
To be continued...
The first ever of such movies I saw was ‘The Rise and Fall of Idi Amin’, a movie so real in its depiction that rumors were rife amongst we ignorant ones that it was real life being documented.
‘Blood Diamond’ exposed the brutal shedding of blood and war by greedy folks all because of diamonds. The ‘Long sleeve or short sleeve’ scene scared my thoughts vividly.
‘Lord of War’ showcased how weapons were illegally sold to African Rebels to help them gain ground over the war. I can never forget the credit opening scene which followed the process of a bullet being manufactured up to the point it ends up being fired into the skull of a child.
More movies everyday depicting the horrors of civil wars and genocides in Africa have been made but I came across a movie with a shocking and very different perspective recently that made me go looking for facts.
I’m talking of Jean-Stephane Sauvaire’s 2008 movie, ‘Johnny Mad Dog’
The movie was extracted from a book by the same tile, written by Emmanuel Dongala, a Congo citizen who fled the country in 1997 during its civil war and now lives in western Massachusetts.
The film focuses on a group of child soldier commandos, led by 15 year old Johnny, who are part of a Rebel faction bent on seizing control of war-torn Congo. They rob, pillage and slay everything in their path and bear names like No Good Advice, Small Devil, Jungle Rocket, and Young Major.
At the same time we also follow the story of Laokolé, also the same age, who simply wants to finish high school and become an engineer. She tries to escape her war torn country with her little brother Fofo, 8 and in the process crosses paths with Johnny as the story progresses.
The acting of the children in this movie was so realistic that I went online on a fact finding mission as to how Jean-Stephane Sauvaire achieved this. I discovered that the kids were actually former child soldiers from the Liberian civil war. They didn’t need to be actors; all they had to do was act what they did during the war. The location shoot was actually in Liberia which had a lot of war torn areas that were apt for the scenes.
To imagine kids like this fighting in the war terrified me; they were younger, had more energy than adults, that apart from being introduced to all manner of drugs and ‘jazz’ to enhance their performance, and they were very deadly as shown by the bloodthirsty No good advice, Johnny’s second in command.
My mind wandered further. How on earth did child soldiers come into existence? Almost, if not every war in Africa has had the factor of kid soldiers being recruited to fight in the war. Is it the poverty level or some other third world factor that makes this happen? I went a-searching and I found shocking results…
To be continued...
Bizzare Jobs From History 2
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The bizarre jobs people got themselves occupied with in the past will just never cease to amaze me…and I’m sure you as well. Did you think the jobs from the first entry were bizarre? Here’s more!
Urinatores
The name gave me a ridiculous first impression when I came across it. The first thing that popped into my head was – did these guys piss for a living? It’s good not to jump to conclusions so quickly ‘cause it wasn’t exactly what I thought it was.
The urinatores were salvage divers from Ostia. The name – with its similarity to urine – is probably a reference to the fact that the deep diving caused so much pressure on their abdomens that they urinated a lot. (What! So if I had a job of tasting the sugar level of a malt factory and it made me shit more regularly would that make my job get named something like ‘Shitmaestro’?)
The divers had but one tool – a kettle shaped diving bell filled with air for breathing and weighed down with lead weights – to help the divers reach up to 30 meters below the surface. Their job was primarily salvage but they also moved construction equipment around. The dangers in this job are obvious but the pay was good – with many of the divers becoming very affluent members of the Roman society.
Na wah oh! Aristocrats with ridiculous careers.
Litter Carrier
Okay. I am now convinced that in the past, people lacked the ability to properly name jobs. A litter carrier sounded like one who emptied the trash on a regular basis. But I was shocked that it was something else…
The litter carrier was a slave whose job it was to cart women (and later men) around in little carriages. It was a hard job and a tedious one and could be dangerous (picture carrying a carriage up a flight of stairs!) The litter carriers were usually dressed in fine garments and the litters became more and more extravagant over the years. In fact, in later years many wealthy romans had windows of glass in their litters instead of the traditional curtains. Documents from the Roman times tell us that it was very uncomfortable to travel by litter as it could make one sea sick. This job has remained to a certain extent in that there is a group of men trained to carry the Papal Sedia Gestatoria (a throne carried on men’s shoulders). The sedia was last used in the 1980s but may make a come back due to recent security complications surrounding Pope Benedict XVI.
I wonder why that is but I sincerely don’t want to know.
Gymnasiarch
The gymnasiarch had a busy job in ancient Greece due to the popularity of athletics. Despite being a dirty job – the gymnasiarch had to oil and scrape the athletes as well as tidy up after wrestling matches and the gymnasium in general, the position was highly sought after by the rich as it was considered the epitome of philanthropic occupations. To qualify as gymnasiarch you had to be between 30 and 60 and you have a large net worth. One benefit of the job was that you got to carry a stick with which to beat sullen youths who misbehaved in the gym.
Hmm…sounds like a sports prefect from a Nigerian high school, a barber and a janitor all in one!
Orgy Planner
Boy! The name says it all O! Just as you have wedding planners, so also did the Romans have orgy planners!
The orgy planner had a very unusual job – he got to plan festivities for the rich of society and, in some cases, got many perks (which I am sure you can imagine without me spelling it out). The orgy planner had to organize food, women, music, and accommodation. The downside to the job is that the orgy planner was not liked by all members of society (particularly those who were never invited to orgies) and the trade was even banned for a short time. The most famous orgy planner was Gaius Petronius who is most famous for writing the satirical book about Roman debauchery called Satyricon.
Hmm…do we have something close to this today? Well, the closest to this would be anybody who decides to throw a very 'bad' party at home when his or her parents aren’t around! Only they don’t get paid to do so, lol!
Funeral Clown
The funeral clown was paid to dress up as the dead person, wear a mask of his face, and dance about acting like him. The Romans believed that this would placate the spirits of the dead and bring joy to the living. As the funeral processed, the funeral clown would run alongside the corpse with other clowns making jokes and mimicking the dead. Some clowns were very highly regarded and even got to mock the emperor at his funeral. They were well paid and an oddly happy diversion from the clowns regular job as the head of a mime troupe.
Making fun of dead people for a living? I wonder why they don’t do this anymore. Probably because it became way too sensitive to those mourning. These Romans sef!
Slinger
A slinger was a man trained to use the sling. The sling was an essential part of roman military strategy because it was more effective (both in distance and damage) to an arrow. As a child, slingers-in-training would be required to kill their dinner – no kill, no food. It was an extremely good way to get youths trained fast. The slinger could throw stones up to one pound in weight and they could be used accurately up to 200 meters.
A job you start preparing for from young age…hmmm. Where they inspired to develop this job after hearing of what David did to Goliath in the Bible?
Whipping Boy
A whipping boy, in the 1600s and 1700s, was a young boy who was assigned to a young prince and was punished when the prince misbehaved or fell behind in his schooling. Whipping boys were established in the English court during the monarchies of the 15th century and 16th century. They were created because the idea of the Divine Right of Kings, which stated that kings were appointed by God, and implied that no one but the king was worthy of punishing the king’s son. Since the king was rarely around to punish his son when necessary, tutors to the young prince found it extremely difficult to enforce rules or learning. Whipping boys were generally of high birth, and were educated with the prince since birth. Due to the fact that the prince and whipping boy grew up together since birth, they usually formed an emotional bond. The strong bond that developed between a prince and his whipping boy dramatically increased the effectiveness of using a whipping boy as a form of punishment for a prince. The idea of the whipping boys was that seeing a friend being whipped or beaten for something that he had done wrong would be likely to ensure that the prince would not make the same mistake again.
Another job that proves that ancient English people were serious oddballs. First; this was a job for a youngster. Second; the job description involved being a scapegoat all the time - getting whipped for a living.
Are these jobs bizarre or what? In those days they probably weren’t. And who knows, maybe a lot of our jobs today will be seen as oddball professions in the future!
Source: www.listverse.com
Urinatores
The name gave me a ridiculous first impression when I came across it. The first thing that popped into my head was – did these guys piss for a living? It’s good not to jump to conclusions so quickly ‘cause it wasn’t exactly what I thought it was.
The urinatores were salvage divers from Ostia. The name – with its similarity to urine – is probably a reference to the fact that the deep diving caused so much pressure on their abdomens that they urinated a lot. (What! So if I had a job of tasting the sugar level of a malt factory and it made me shit more regularly would that make my job get named something like ‘Shitmaestro’?)
The divers had but one tool – a kettle shaped diving bell filled with air for breathing and weighed down with lead weights – to help the divers reach up to 30 meters below the surface. Their job was primarily salvage but they also moved construction equipment around. The dangers in this job are obvious but the pay was good – with many of the divers becoming very affluent members of the Roman society.
Na wah oh! Aristocrats with ridiculous careers.
Litter Carrier
Okay. I am now convinced that in the past, people lacked the ability to properly name jobs. A litter carrier sounded like one who emptied the trash on a regular basis. But I was shocked that it was something else…
The litter carrier was a slave whose job it was to cart women (and later men) around in little carriages. It was a hard job and a tedious one and could be dangerous (picture carrying a carriage up a flight of stairs!) The litter carriers were usually dressed in fine garments and the litters became more and more extravagant over the years. In fact, in later years many wealthy romans had windows of glass in their litters instead of the traditional curtains. Documents from the Roman times tell us that it was very uncomfortable to travel by litter as it could make one sea sick. This job has remained to a certain extent in that there is a group of men trained to carry the Papal Sedia Gestatoria (a throne carried on men’s shoulders). The sedia was last used in the 1980s but may make a come back due to recent security complications surrounding Pope Benedict XVI.
I wonder why that is but I sincerely don’t want to know.
Gymnasiarch
The gymnasiarch had a busy job in ancient Greece due to the popularity of athletics. Despite being a dirty job – the gymnasiarch had to oil and scrape the athletes as well as tidy up after wrestling matches and the gymnasium in general, the position was highly sought after by the rich as it was considered the epitome of philanthropic occupations. To qualify as gymnasiarch you had to be between 30 and 60 and you have a large net worth. One benefit of the job was that you got to carry a stick with which to beat sullen youths who misbehaved in the gym.
Hmm…sounds like a sports prefect from a Nigerian high school, a barber and a janitor all in one!
Orgy Planner
Boy! The name says it all O! Just as you have wedding planners, so also did the Romans have orgy planners!
The orgy planner had a very unusual job – he got to plan festivities for the rich of society and, in some cases, got many perks (which I am sure you can imagine without me spelling it out). The orgy planner had to organize food, women, music, and accommodation. The downside to the job is that the orgy planner was not liked by all members of society (particularly those who were never invited to orgies) and the trade was even banned for a short time. The most famous orgy planner was Gaius Petronius who is most famous for writing the satirical book about Roman debauchery called Satyricon.
Hmm…do we have something close to this today? Well, the closest to this would be anybody who decides to throw a very 'bad' party at home when his or her parents aren’t around! Only they don’t get paid to do so, lol!
Funeral Clown
The funeral clown was paid to dress up as the dead person, wear a mask of his face, and dance about acting like him. The Romans believed that this would placate the spirits of the dead and bring joy to the living. As the funeral processed, the funeral clown would run alongside the corpse with other clowns making jokes and mimicking the dead. Some clowns were very highly regarded and even got to mock the emperor at his funeral. They were well paid and an oddly happy diversion from the clowns regular job as the head of a mime troupe.
Making fun of dead people for a living? I wonder why they don’t do this anymore. Probably because it became way too sensitive to those mourning. These Romans sef!
Slinger
A slinger was a man trained to use the sling. The sling was an essential part of roman military strategy because it was more effective (both in distance and damage) to an arrow. As a child, slingers-in-training would be required to kill their dinner – no kill, no food. It was an extremely good way to get youths trained fast. The slinger could throw stones up to one pound in weight and they could be used accurately up to 200 meters.
A job you start preparing for from young age…hmmm. Where they inspired to develop this job after hearing of what David did to Goliath in the Bible?
Whipping Boy
A whipping boy, in the 1600s and 1700s, was a young boy who was assigned to a young prince and was punished when the prince misbehaved or fell behind in his schooling. Whipping boys were established in the English court during the monarchies of the 15th century and 16th century. They were created because the idea of the Divine Right of Kings, which stated that kings were appointed by God, and implied that no one but the king was worthy of punishing the king’s son. Since the king was rarely around to punish his son when necessary, tutors to the young prince found it extremely difficult to enforce rules or learning. Whipping boys were generally of high birth, and were educated with the prince since birth. Due to the fact that the prince and whipping boy grew up together since birth, they usually formed an emotional bond. The strong bond that developed between a prince and his whipping boy dramatically increased the effectiveness of using a whipping boy as a form of punishment for a prince. The idea of the whipping boys was that seeing a friend being whipped or beaten for something that he had done wrong would be likely to ensure that the prince would not make the same mistake again.
Another job that proves that ancient English people were serious oddballs. First; this was a job for a youngster. Second; the job description involved being a scapegoat all the time - getting whipped for a living.
Are these jobs bizarre or what? In those days they probably weren’t. And who knows, maybe a lot of our jobs today will be seen as oddball professions in the future!
Source: www.listverse.com
Bizzare Jobs From History
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
*Happy Belated Easter to you all!*
Everybody has to work to make a living one way or the other but just as the world is full of different people, it’s also filled with different jobs. Today, there are jobs that are cool but at the same time there are jobs that are just too bizarre for many of us to be involved in.
But its not the first time we’re having some really strange occupations one can call jobs. Way back in the past bizarre jobs had always existed.
Here are a list of such jobs as I gathered online.
Knocker-Up
A Knocker-up was a profession in England and Ireland that started during and lasted well into the Industrial Revolution, before alarm clocks were affordable or reliable. A knocker-up’s job was to rouse sleeping people so they could get to work on time. The knocker-up often used a long and light stick (often bamboo) to reach windows on higher floors. In return, the knocker-up would be paid a few pence a week for this job. The knocker-up would not leave a client’s window until they were assured the client had been awoken. This all leads to the obvious question: who knocks up the knocker-up?
Gosh! If this kind of job still existed, I would do it on the side with my actual full time job. That’s because I’m an early riser freak.
Jester
Imagine being paid to make fun of Royalty for a living. The Jester is the fool who was permitted to insult the king without losing his head – as long as it made the king laugh. It was a job that came with accolades and with fear. It is also a job unlike any existent today. How many families do you know that employ a private “comedian” so to speak?
But, while the job did vanish from history for hundreds of years, as recently as 1999 one Kingdom (Tonga) has appointed an official jester. In a bizarre (and very amusing) twist, the man appointed happened to also be the government’s financial advisor. He was later embroiled in a financial scandal. The American jester to the Tongan court was Jesse Bogdonoff and he is pictured above.
Toshers and Mudlarks
A tosher was someone who scavenges in the sewers, especially in London during the Victorian period. The toshers decided to cut out the middle man and it was a common sight in 19th Century Wapping for whole families to whip off a manhole cover and go down into the sewers, where they would find rich pickings. As most toshers would reek of the sewers, they were not popular with the neighbors. Similarly, the mudlarks were people who would dredge the banks of the Thames in the early morning when the tide was out. They would have to wade through unprocessed sewerage and even sometimes dead bodies in order to find little treasures to sell.
This job just rang a bell in my head – the fact that they still exist today in Nigeria. Ever seen to a Lagos refuse dump lately? You’ll see them there, so many of them, scavenging the heaps. They used to have a knickname amongst some Lagosians– ‘Alumi’. But the western world today would rather refer to them as ‘Recyclers’ or ‘Scavengers’.
Stercorarius and Gong Farmer
Ancient Rome was famous for its extensive sewer system. But despite having such an advanced method of dealing with poop, there was the problem of the smells that would leak into people’s homes and the rats and other vermin that lived in the sewers. This meant that most houses needed to deal with their poop in some other way. This is where the Stercorarius comes in. He would travel door to door collecting all the human waste and cart it off to the edge of town where farmers would buy the dung for their crops.
A gong farmer or gongfermor was the term used in Tudor England for a person who removed human excrement from privies and cesspits, gong being another word for dung. Gong farmers were only allowed to work at night and the waste they collected, known as night soil, had to be taken outside the city or town boundaries. As flushing water closets became more widely used, the profession of gong farming disappeared. A latrine or privy was the toilet of the Middle Ages. A gong farmer dug out the cesspits and emptied the excrement. Gong farmers were only allowed to work between 9 pm and 5 am, and were permitted to live only in certain areas, for reasons that should not be too elusive.
Due to the noxious fumes produced by human excrement, coroners’ reports exist of gong farmers dying of asphyxiation. This was obviously a shit job to have. Imagine what the gravestone would read, ‘Here lies our dear Mr. packer who died from the smell of shit’
Crap…another bell goes off in my head. Is this not the same thing we used to have in Nigeria way back in the early 1980s called Night Soil men? People who pack and dispose your shit for a living?
Oh…and I googled that name ‘Stercorarius’ and found that it was the biological name of a dung beetle that feeds on the shit of herbivores.
Dog Whipper
Sometimes I wonder the kind of people that lived in these ages. There are some careers that can make yell WTH?? - like the Dog Whipper.
A Dog Whipper was a church official charged with removing unruly dogs from a church or church grounds during services. In some areas of Europe during the 16th to 19th centuries it was not uncommon for household dogs to accompany – or at least follow – their owners to church services. If these animals became disruptive it was the job of the dog whipper to remove them from the church, allowing the service to continue in peace. Dog whippers were usually provided with a whip (hence the title) or a pair of large wooden tongs with which to remove the animals. They were generally paid for their services, and records of payments to the local dog whipper exist in old parish account books in many English churches.
Groom of the Stool
The Groom of the Stool was a male servant in the household of an English monarch who, among other duties, “preside[d] over the office of royal excretion,” that is, he had the task of cleaning the monarch’s anus after defecation. In the early years of Henry VIII’s reign, the title was awarded to minions of the King, court companions who spent time with him in the Privy chamber. These were the sons of noblemen or important members of the gentry. In time they came to act as virtual personal secretaries to the King, carrying out a variety of administrative tasks within his private rooms. The position was an especially prized one, as it allowed one unobstructed access to the King’s attention. Despite being the official bum-wiper of the king, the Groom of the Stool had a very high social standing.
Uugh!! Thank God I was born in this century and not into a noble family! I just can’t fathom this – mopping an old geezer’s ass after taking a crap! But I know some people who wouldn’t mind if the pay was good (plus the connection to the king). But we have people with similar jobs today – those guys that attend to you after using the toilets. The only thing is, wiping your ass is not part of their job description.
Curse Tablet Maker
Curse tablets were thin sheets of soft lead which had curses written on them. The curses were then affixed by nails to the altars or walls of temples. The poor curse tablet writer had to sit day in and day out hearing the complaints and woes of his customers who needed curses written. Fortunately many of these curse tablets have survived to modern times so we can get a glimpse of life and the way thinking of the Romans. Here is one example: “bind every limb and sinew of Victorius, the charioteer for the Blue team.. the horses he is about to race… blind their eyes so they cannot see and twist their soul and heart so they cannot breathe.”
Ha! If this was still in existence as a profession, I might make a bit of fortune. All I have to do is just sit with my indigenous Yoruba folks, those people sabi curse! That is one tribe with a repertoire of curses that English language will never be able to translate.
There are more funny and odd professions but I'll stop here for the sake of this post becoming too long. Maybe I'll put more up in a second post...maybe!
Source: www.listverse.com
Everybody has to work to make a living one way or the other but just as the world is full of different people, it’s also filled with different jobs. Today, there are jobs that are cool but at the same time there are jobs that are just too bizarre for many of us to be involved in.
But its not the first time we’re having some really strange occupations one can call jobs. Way back in the past bizarre jobs had always existed.
Here are a list of such jobs as I gathered online.
Knocker-Up
A Knocker-up was a profession in England and Ireland that started during and lasted well into the Industrial Revolution, before alarm clocks were affordable or reliable. A knocker-up’s job was to rouse sleeping people so they could get to work on time. The knocker-up often used a long and light stick (often bamboo) to reach windows on higher floors. In return, the knocker-up would be paid a few pence a week for this job. The knocker-up would not leave a client’s window until they were assured the client had been awoken. This all leads to the obvious question: who knocks up the knocker-up?
Gosh! If this kind of job still existed, I would do it on the side with my actual full time job. That’s because I’m an early riser freak.
Jester
Imagine being paid to make fun of Royalty for a living. The Jester is the fool who was permitted to insult the king without losing his head – as long as it made the king laugh. It was a job that came with accolades and with fear. It is also a job unlike any existent today. How many families do you know that employ a private “comedian” so to speak?
But, while the job did vanish from history for hundreds of years, as recently as 1999 one Kingdom (Tonga) has appointed an official jester. In a bizarre (and very amusing) twist, the man appointed happened to also be the government’s financial advisor. He was later embroiled in a financial scandal. The American jester to the Tongan court was Jesse Bogdonoff and he is pictured above.
Toshers and Mudlarks
A tosher was someone who scavenges in the sewers, especially in London during the Victorian period. The toshers decided to cut out the middle man and it was a common sight in 19th Century Wapping for whole families to whip off a manhole cover and go down into the sewers, where they would find rich pickings. As most toshers would reek of the sewers, they were not popular with the neighbors. Similarly, the mudlarks were people who would dredge the banks of the Thames in the early morning when the tide was out. They would have to wade through unprocessed sewerage and even sometimes dead bodies in order to find little treasures to sell.
This job just rang a bell in my head – the fact that they still exist today in Nigeria. Ever seen to a Lagos refuse dump lately? You’ll see them there, so many of them, scavenging the heaps. They used to have a knickname amongst some Lagosians– ‘Alumi’. But the western world today would rather refer to them as ‘Recyclers’ or ‘Scavengers’.
Stercorarius and Gong Farmer
Ancient Rome was famous for its extensive sewer system. But despite having such an advanced method of dealing with poop, there was the problem of the smells that would leak into people’s homes and the rats and other vermin that lived in the sewers. This meant that most houses needed to deal with their poop in some other way. This is where the Stercorarius comes in. He would travel door to door collecting all the human waste and cart it off to the edge of town where farmers would buy the dung for their crops.
A gong farmer or gongfermor was the term used in Tudor England for a person who removed human excrement from privies and cesspits, gong being another word for dung. Gong farmers were only allowed to work at night and the waste they collected, known as night soil, had to be taken outside the city or town boundaries. As flushing water closets became more widely used, the profession of gong farming disappeared. A latrine or privy was the toilet of the Middle Ages. A gong farmer dug out the cesspits and emptied the excrement. Gong farmers were only allowed to work between 9 pm and 5 am, and were permitted to live only in certain areas, for reasons that should not be too elusive.
Due to the noxious fumes produced by human excrement, coroners’ reports exist of gong farmers dying of asphyxiation. This was obviously a shit job to have. Imagine what the gravestone would read, ‘Here lies our dear Mr. packer who died from the smell of shit’
Crap…another bell goes off in my head. Is this not the same thing we used to have in Nigeria way back in the early 1980s called Night Soil men? People who pack and dispose your shit for a living?
Oh…and I googled that name ‘Stercorarius’ and found that it was the biological name of a dung beetle that feeds on the shit of herbivores.
Dog Whipper
Sometimes I wonder the kind of people that lived in these ages. There are some careers that can make yell WTH?? - like the Dog Whipper.
A Dog Whipper was a church official charged with removing unruly dogs from a church or church grounds during services. In some areas of Europe during the 16th to 19th centuries it was not uncommon for household dogs to accompany – or at least follow – their owners to church services. If these animals became disruptive it was the job of the dog whipper to remove them from the church, allowing the service to continue in peace. Dog whippers were usually provided with a whip (hence the title) or a pair of large wooden tongs with which to remove the animals. They were generally paid for their services, and records of payments to the local dog whipper exist in old parish account books in many English churches.
Groom of the Stool
The Groom of the Stool was a male servant in the household of an English monarch who, among other duties, “preside[d] over the office of royal excretion,” that is, he had the task of cleaning the monarch’s anus after defecation. In the early years of Henry VIII’s reign, the title was awarded to minions of the King, court companions who spent time with him in the Privy chamber. These were the sons of noblemen or important members of the gentry. In time they came to act as virtual personal secretaries to the King, carrying out a variety of administrative tasks within his private rooms. The position was an especially prized one, as it allowed one unobstructed access to the King’s attention. Despite being the official bum-wiper of the king, the Groom of the Stool had a very high social standing.
Uugh!! Thank God I was born in this century and not into a noble family! I just can’t fathom this – mopping an old geezer’s ass after taking a crap! But I know some people who wouldn’t mind if the pay was good (plus the connection to the king). But we have people with similar jobs today – those guys that attend to you after using the toilets. The only thing is, wiping your ass is not part of their job description.
Curse Tablet Maker
Curse tablets were thin sheets of soft lead which had curses written on them. The curses were then affixed by nails to the altars or walls of temples. The poor curse tablet writer had to sit day in and day out hearing the complaints and woes of his customers who needed curses written. Fortunately many of these curse tablets have survived to modern times so we can get a glimpse of life and the way thinking of the Romans. Here is one example: “bind every limb and sinew of Victorius, the charioteer for the Blue team.. the horses he is about to race… blind their eyes so they cannot see and twist their soul and heart so they cannot breathe.”
Ha! If this was still in existence as a profession, I might make a bit of fortune. All I have to do is just sit with my indigenous Yoruba folks, those people sabi curse! That is one tribe with a repertoire of curses that English language will never be able to translate.
There are more funny and odd professions but I'll stop here for the sake of this post becoming too long. Maybe I'll put more up in a second post...maybe!
Source: www.listverse.com
Wheelchair Chick & Eating with Kids
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Friday, March 26, 2010
It's so funny when we let our imaginations roam wild. I found this two short animations frigging hilarious. And I noticed one thing that really helps comedians - when they use real life circumstances and add colors to it or just put it out in the funniest way they can.
Ever thought of dancing with a chick in a wheelchair? Or what's your opinion of eating with little children with all their little hands going into your food and with them drooling spit all over you?
Watch these...real funny stuff.
Ever thought of dancing with a chick in a wheelchair? Or what's your opinion of eating with little children with all their little hands going into your food and with them drooling spit all over you?
Watch these...real funny stuff.
Acid Rain And The Mystery Fog
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Monday, March 22, 2010
A few days ago, I got a forwarded email from a yahoogroup of which I was a member. The topic caught my attention. It was a mail warning of a forthcoming Acid rain that would soon hit the streets.
I was incensed on getting this mail. In all my webtime spent on the internet, I’ve come to realize the myriads of fake alarms circulated via the internet by some scare junkies. So coming across a mail like this got me really skeptical about the whole issue.
But then a number of happenings got me wondering whether there could be some truth in this matter.
First of all, the controversy surrounding Chemtrails.
If you happen to be outdoor at anytime of the day and you saw an aircraft flying across the sky and leaving behind a long trail of smoke which doesn’t fade away easily, chances are that you’ve just spotted a Chemtrail. What it’s supposed to have been is a Contrail. But while Contrails are just a matter of smoking planes of which the trail of smoke doesn’t stay long in the air, Chemtrails stay longer in the air and still get to be vividly noticed than a Contrail.
And Chemtrails are known to be chemicals sprayed in the air for some diabolic reason. It’s equally a method used for biological warfare too. And then some evil people who probably want to create an artificial disease so that they can sell the cure and make money or just reduce population would consider doing it this way.
Here in Lagos, I happened to notice a Chemtrail once and wondered what on earth it was being sprayed for. But that was nothing compared the numerous ones reported in different places in the US. (Google and see for reference).
A couple of years ago, Lagosians awoke to discover that the whole of Lagos was foggy. The problem was that it was not yet Harmattan season and this particular fog had a peppery sensation to the eyes. It was a scary situation but later it was discovered that a chemical from somewhere had leaked into the atmosphere. Till today, no one can really pinpoint the genesis of that strange mist.
Now I woke up this morning to discover that everywhere had suddenly gone foggy and Harmattan was still far off. The Rainy season which came before Harmattan had not even started fully. The cars in our compound had gone dusty overnight. I thought it was because of something that got burnt somewhere and smoked through the atmosphere.
It was not until midday while at work that everybody noticed that it was still foggy and word was beginning to go round that the rumoured Acid rain would soon hit.
I had to question whether it was that easy.
I went online searching information on Acid Rain and came across stuff that debunked the whole rumour.
According to an article from a citizen focused NGO:
The so-called “acid rain” issue has been used for many years to press for more regulations and restrictions on the activities of citizens throughout America. Alarmists claim that acid rain has wiped out fish in many lakes and streams, destroyed forests, ruined crops and buildings, and that it poses a serious threat to human health. What is referred to as “acid rain” is simply rain that has absorbed airborne particles from both natural and manmade sources. Although some groups continue to try to scare Americans with stories of acid rain, scientific evidence shows that these stories are greatly exaggerated.
A few days ago, I got a forwarded email from a yahoogroup of which I was a member. The topic caught my attention. It was a mail warning of a forthcoming Acid rain that would soon hit the streets.
I was incensed on getting this mail. In all my webtime spent on the internet, I’ve come to realize the myriads of fake alarms circulated via the internet by some scare junkies. So coming across a mail like this got me really skeptical about the whole issue.
But then a number of happenings got me wondering whether there could be some truth in this matter.
First of all, the controversy surrounding Chemtrails.
If you happen to be outdoor at anytime of the day and you saw an aircraft flying across the sky and leaving behind a long trail of smoke which doesn’t fade away easily, chances are that you’ve just spotted a Chemtrail. What it’s supposed to have been is a Contrail. But while Contrails are just a matter of smoking planes of which the trail of smoke doesn’t stay long in the air, Chemtrails stay longer in the air and still get to be vividly noticed than a Contrail.
And Chemtrails are known to be chemicals sprayed in the air for some diabolic reason. It’s equally a method used for biological warfare too. And then some evil people who probably want to create an artificial disease so that they can sell the cure and make money or just reduce population would consider doing it this way.
Here in Lagos, I happened to notice a Chemtrail once and wondered what on earth it was being sprayed for. But that was nothing compared the numerous ones reported in different places in the US. (Google and see for reference).
A couple of years ago, Lagosians awoke to discover that the whole of Lagos was foggy. The problem was that it was not yet Harmattan season and this particular fog had a peppery sensation to the eyes. It was a scary situation but later it was discovered that a chemical from somewhere had leaked into the atmosphere. Till today, no one can really pinpoint the genesis of that strange mist.
Now I woke up this morning to discover that everywhere had suddenly gone foggy and Harmattan was still far off. The Rainy season which came before Harmattan had not even started fully. The cars in our compound had gone dusty overnight. I thought it was because of something that got burnt somewhere and smoked through the atmosphere.
It was not until midday while at work that everybody noticed that it was still foggy and word was beginning to go round that the rumoured Acid rain would soon hit.
I had to question whether it was that easy.
I went online searching information on Acid Rain and came across stuff that debunked the whole rumour.
According to an article from a citizen focused NGO:
The so-called “acid rain” issue has been used for many years to press for more regulations and restrictions on the activities of citizens throughout America. Alarmists claim that acid rain has wiped out fish in many lakes and streams, destroyed forests, ruined crops and buildings, and that it poses a serious threat to human health. What is referred to as “acid rain” is simply rain that has absorbed airborne particles from both natural and manmade sources. Although some groups continue to try to scare Americans with stories of acid rain, scientific evidence shows that these stories are greatly exaggerated.
The truth is that after a decade of research, scientists have concluded that the so-called threat of acid rain is largely nonexistent.
With that, I could conclude that the acid rain theory was just another cock and bull scare tactic.
But what about the strange fog that’s currently pervading Lagos as at the time of this post?
Is the weather going crazy, has there been another chemical accident or somebody is just playing diabolic games?
But what about the strange fog that’s currently pervading Lagos as at the time of this post?
Is the weather going crazy, has there been another chemical accident or somebody is just playing diabolic games?
The Chronicles X - Dead Men 3
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Monday, March 15, 2010
© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
Tola’s eyes seemed to burn as her gaze settled on the unsettled men surrounding her. She stopped laughing just as abruptly as she had started.
Ike was rattled by her strange outburst but he wasn’t going to give in to what he thought was a reverse psychology trick.
‘What’s funny?’ he barked, fondling the pistol more tightly and threateningly.
‘Nothing. I just felt sorry for you all.’ Her voice had suddenly gone from being confident to being deadly cold and menacing.
She began to undress.
They watched her; each one of them beginning to doubt if this was really a good idea. There was just something unnerving about the way she was going about it.
Tola finished undressing and lay down on her bed, her face brazen and emotionless.
‘Who’s first?’ She asked.
Emma looked at the others. Nobody moved. He hissed and began to pull off his jeans. If these guys were too mesmerized by this whore, they can stand there for all he cared.
Soon he was on her panting like a he-goat. He tried to look into her eyes but he couldn’t. Emma could be senseless at times but in this instance, he couldn’t help notice that there was something strange about the way the whole episode was going.
His initiative to make the first move encouraged the others and one by one, they had their turns on Tola.
By the time they had all had their turns on her, they sat about the room, trying to regain back their strength.
Tola sat up and hissed.
‘Is that all you can do? You’re a bunch of weaklings!’
Ike gasped, Jide’s mouth fell open behind his bandana, Emma farted accidentally.
This was supposed to be a rape scene but she didn’t look like she was being raped. It looked more like they were being raped.
She lay there like nothing had happened and they sat there, all out of breath, wondering if they had accomplished the task they came for.
Her taunt was just too much for Ike. He got up and raped her again. The others followed suit; all desperate to defend their manhood.
By the time they were finished, all of them were out of breath and very exhausted.
Tola sat up once again and berated them as weaklings.
This was too much for Emma who had a short fuse and serious complex. He got up and smacked her across the face once.
‘That’s for opening your big mouth.’ he snarled.
Then he smacked her again.
‘That’s for the knife cut you gave me!’
Jide held him before he could do more damage.
Tola held one side of her face in pain. There were tears in her eyes but it wasn’t for the pain, it was for rage.
Again she suddenly remembered what had happened earlier in the day and brightened up.
She watched her exhausted assailants as they gathered their strength back and prepared to leave.
Jide searched round the flat to make sure they didn’t leave behind anything that could incriminate them. His eye caught her bag lying on the floor with its contents spilled out.
He picked it up and began to put all the content back in. He stopped at a rolled piece of paper and out of curiosity glanced at it.
The men heard him gasp as the bag dropped from his hand and hit the floor.
‘What is it?’ Ike asked walking over to him.
Tola suddenly began to chuckle.
Jide’s trembling hand stretched out the paper to Ike.
Ike grabbed it and looked the content.
It was a hospital lab report addressed to Tola. She had been diagnosed with the HIV virus and two other STDs.
Tola’s burst into laughter again and it echoed in his ears as he fainted out of shock.
One by one they all saw the report and were instantly reduced to ghosts of themselves.
Emma sat down exasperatedly on the floor, the huge dude put his two beefy arms on his head in woe, one guy bit his finger as his life rushed past him in fast forward while the other guy paced to and fro in heated anxiety. Jide stood frozen on the spot, looking with dread at the woman that had passed the death sentence on them.
Some years later, I met Tola. She was looking healthy but was no longer the same Tola I knew in my department back in school. She was now a born again Christian and took God seriously. I don’t know the state of her health now but all I can say is that she keeps looking healthier each passing day. God must have been merciful on her.
As for Ike and his gang, to this day no one knows what became of them.
The End
Ike was rattled by her strange outburst but he wasn’t going to give in to what he thought was a reverse psychology trick.
‘What’s funny?’ he barked, fondling the pistol more tightly and threateningly.
‘Nothing. I just felt sorry for you all.’ Her voice had suddenly gone from being confident to being deadly cold and menacing.
She began to undress.
They watched her; each one of them beginning to doubt if this was really a good idea. There was just something unnerving about the way she was going about it.
Tola finished undressing and lay down on her bed, her face brazen and emotionless.
‘Who’s first?’ She asked.
Emma looked at the others. Nobody moved. He hissed and began to pull off his jeans. If these guys were too mesmerized by this whore, they can stand there for all he cared.
Soon he was on her panting like a he-goat. He tried to look into her eyes but he couldn’t. Emma could be senseless at times but in this instance, he couldn’t help notice that there was something strange about the way the whole episode was going.
His initiative to make the first move encouraged the others and one by one, they had their turns on Tola.
By the time they had all had their turns on her, they sat about the room, trying to regain back their strength.
Tola sat up and hissed.
‘Is that all you can do? You’re a bunch of weaklings!’
Ike gasped, Jide’s mouth fell open behind his bandana, Emma farted accidentally.
This was supposed to be a rape scene but she didn’t look like she was being raped. It looked more like they were being raped.
She lay there like nothing had happened and they sat there, all out of breath, wondering if they had accomplished the task they came for.
Her taunt was just too much for Ike. He got up and raped her again. The others followed suit; all desperate to defend their manhood.
By the time they were finished, all of them were out of breath and very exhausted.
Tola sat up once again and berated them as weaklings.
This was too much for Emma who had a short fuse and serious complex. He got up and smacked her across the face once.
‘That’s for opening your big mouth.’ he snarled.
Then he smacked her again.
‘That’s for the knife cut you gave me!’
Jide held him before he could do more damage.
Tola held one side of her face in pain. There were tears in her eyes but it wasn’t for the pain, it was for rage.
Again she suddenly remembered what had happened earlier in the day and brightened up.
She watched her exhausted assailants as they gathered their strength back and prepared to leave.
Jide searched round the flat to make sure they didn’t leave behind anything that could incriminate them. His eye caught her bag lying on the floor with its contents spilled out.
He picked it up and began to put all the content back in. He stopped at a rolled piece of paper and out of curiosity glanced at it.
The men heard him gasp as the bag dropped from his hand and hit the floor.
‘What is it?’ Ike asked walking over to him.
Tola suddenly began to chuckle.
Jide’s trembling hand stretched out the paper to Ike.
Ike grabbed it and looked the content.
It was a hospital lab report addressed to Tola. She had been diagnosed with the HIV virus and two other STDs.
Tola’s burst into laughter again and it echoed in his ears as he fainted out of shock.
One by one they all saw the report and were instantly reduced to ghosts of themselves.
Emma sat down exasperatedly on the floor, the huge dude put his two beefy arms on his head in woe, one guy bit his finger as his life rushed past him in fast forward while the other guy paced to and fro in heated anxiety. Jide stood frozen on the spot, looking with dread at the woman that had passed the death sentence on them.
Some years later, I met Tola. She was looking healthy but was no longer the same Tola I knew in my department back in school. She was now a born again Christian and took God seriously. I don’t know the state of her health now but all I can say is that she keeps looking healthier each passing day. God must have been merciful on her.
As for Ike and his gang, to this day no one knows what became of them.
The End
© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
© Kimson Masters - Illustrations
The Chronicles X - Dead Men 2
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Monday, March 08, 2010
Three young men had been waiting for her in her room.
It wasn’t a new thing for a man to wait for Tola in her room since she had male acquaintances who were always informed ahead of time of where she kept the extra key. It was nothing new yet something about these guys was not right. They were positioned about the room as if they had been expecting her and their faces were half covered in handkerchiefs or bandanas. Two of them looked familiar but she couldn’t be sure. The third guy was the scariest of them all because of his huge and muscular size, he had to be a body builder, probably a Physical Ed student.
The men said nothing and watched her with glee as she cringed on seeing them. She began to retrace her steps. She just might have the opportunity to make it out through the door before they got to her.
Her right heel hit the fallen knife and quickly she swooped down, grabbed it and made to get out through the door. It was then she saw why the bushes outside had been rustling.
Ike, Jide and Emma with their faces half covered in bandanas emerged from the bushes and quickly blocked her way out. Ike and Jide moved forward steadily. Emma thrust forward ahead of them, enthusiastic about getting down to business.
If he had been steady like the others he probably would have seen that she had a knife in her hand but he was too blinded by the desire to do some collateral damage.
Tola moved swiftly to the side, the knife deftly held downwards.
Emma crashed into the door post and felt a sharp pain on his right arm. He grabbed it and felt his ripped shirt sleeve and the warmth of his blood trickle in between his fingers. He cursed filled with intense rage and pain, turned to attack her again but Ike stopped him.
‘Enough!’ Ike barked jerking him aside and facing Tola himself.
He looked at her from head to toe and smiled.
‘You shouldn’t do that, you know’ He said in a calm tone.
Tola said nothing but just waved the knife maniacally at him.
Ike reached behind his back and drew out a small black pistol. He waved it before her.
‘See? I’m in command here. And you’ll do as I say.’
Tola’s confidence suddenly ebbed away as quickly as a cube of sugar would dissolve in a glass of water. Ike pointed the gun at her and instructed her to drop the knife.
As soon as she did, Jide grabbed her from behind and shoved her inside the apartment.
The other three guys waiting in the room were at alert and obviously awaiting Ike’s orders.
This indicated clearly that Ike was the leader of the group.
‘What do you want with me?’ Tola said, fighting hard to resurrect the confidence that had died within.
‘They say you’re a hard nut to crack.’ Ike began.
‘Yeah. That you never give in to any guy on campus.’ Jide put in.
‘It’s like no dude on campus is ever good enough for you, if he’s not some loaded aristo*.’ The muscular jock added.
‘And we’ve come here to prove you’re nothing but just another statistic’, Ike said checking the safety catch on the gun.
Tola looked astonished rather than scared.
‘And how in the world do you intend to do that?’ she asked in neutral tone. She was doing a good job of hiding the little bit of fear that was creeping into her voice.
‘Oh, you’ll find out soon enough’, Emma said with a wicked snicker playing on his face.
‘Take off your clothes.’ Ike said in a cool yet deadly tone.
‘Never!’ Tola snarled back viciously.
Ike looked at her, his eyes narrowed as his brow knitted together in an angry frown above the sweat soaked bandana covering half his face.
‘Guys…take her clothes off!’ He suddenly barked.
In that instant they advanced towards menacingly her.
Tola broke into cold sweat as she watched them draw closer to her. Then all of a sudden she remembered what had happened earlier in the day and brightened up.
‘Okay. I’ll do it.’ She said.
Ike wasn’t sure he heard right. She repeated herself, and immediately he ordered the boys to stop.
Tola straightened herself up and walked into their centre. The fear was suddenly gone; the confidence that always synchronized with her catwalk was back in her and so alive that for an instant, Ike nearly had a rethink about what they were about to do.
‘You!’ she barked at Emma, ‘Go and bolt the door.’
Emma found himself scurrying to do her bidding. He cursed underneath his breath. He couldn’t believe he was taking orders from a woman.
She looked at all of them and started chuckling. Then she burst into laughter.
The guys all suddenly became uneasy. What was she up to?
It wasn’t a new thing for a man to wait for Tola in her room since she had male acquaintances who were always informed ahead of time of where she kept the extra key. It was nothing new yet something about these guys was not right. They were positioned about the room as if they had been expecting her and their faces were half covered in handkerchiefs or bandanas. Two of them looked familiar but she couldn’t be sure. The third guy was the scariest of them all because of his huge and muscular size, he had to be a body builder, probably a Physical Ed student.
The men said nothing and watched her with glee as she cringed on seeing them. She began to retrace her steps. She just might have the opportunity to make it out through the door before they got to her.
Her right heel hit the fallen knife and quickly she swooped down, grabbed it and made to get out through the door. It was then she saw why the bushes outside had been rustling.
Ike, Jide and Emma with their faces half covered in bandanas emerged from the bushes and quickly blocked her way out. Ike and Jide moved forward steadily. Emma thrust forward ahead of them, enthusiastic about getting down to business.
If he had been steady like the others he probably would have seen that she had a knife in her hand but he was too blinded by the desire to do some collateral damage.
Tola moved swiftly to the side, the knife deftly held downwards.
Emma crashed into the door post and felt a sharp pain on his right arm. He grabbed it and felt his ripped shirt sleeve and the warmth of his blood trickle in between his fingers. He cursed filled with intense rage and pain, turned to attack her again but Ike stopped him.
‘Enough!’ Ike barked jerking him aside and facing Tola himself.
He looked at her from head to toe and smiled.
‘You shouldn’t do that, you know’ He said in a calm tone.
Tola said nothing but just waved the knife maniacally at him.
Ike reached behind his back and drew out a small black pistol. He waved it before her.
‘See? I’m in command here. And you’ll do as I say.’
Tola’s confidence suddenly ebbed away as quickly as a cube of sugar would dissolve in a glass of water. Ike pointed the gun at her and instructed her to drop the knife.
As soon as she did, Jide grabbed her from behind and shoved her inside the apartment.
The other three guys waiting in the room were at alert and obviously awaiting Ike’s orders.
This indicated clearly that Ike was the leader of the group.
‘What do you want with me?’ Tola said, fighting hard to resurrect the confidence that had died within.
‘They say you’re a hard nut to crack.’ Ike began.
‘Yeah. That you never give in to any guy on campus.’ Jide put in.
‘It’s like no dude on campus is ever good enough for you, if he’s not some loaded aristo*.’ The muscular jock added.
‘And we’ve come here to prove you’re nothing but just another statistic’, Ike said checking the safety catch on the gun.
Tola looked astonished rather than scared.
‘And how in the world do you intend to do that?’ she asked in neutral tone. She was doing a good job of hiding the little bit of fear that was creeping into her voice.
‘Oh, you’ll find out soon enough’, Emma said with a wicked snicker playing on his face.
‘Take off your clothes.’ Ike said in a cool yet deadly tone.
‘Never!’ Tola snarled back viciously.
Ike looked at her, his eyes narrowed as his brow knitted together in an angry frown above the sweat soaked bandana covering half his face.
‘Guys…take her clothes off!’ He suddenly barked.
In that instant they advanced towards menacingly her.
Tola broke into cold sweat as she watched them draw closer to her. Then all of a sudden she remembered what had happened earlier in the day and brightened up.
‘Okay. I’ll do it.’ She said.
Ike wasn’t sure he heard right. She repeated herself, and immediately he ordered the boys to stop.
Tola straightened herself up and walked into their centre. The fear was suddenly gone; the confidence that always synchronized with her catwalk was back in her and so alive that for an instant, Ike nearly had a rethink about what they were about to do.
‘You!’ she barked at Emma, ‘Go and bolt the door.’
Emma found himself scurrying to do her bidding. He cursed underneath his breath. He couldn’t believe he was taking orders from a woman.
She looked at all of them and started chuckling. Then she burst into laughter.
The guys all suddenly became uneasy. What was she up to?
To be continued...
The Chronicles X - Dead Men
Chronicled by
Afronuts
@
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
A gust of wind blew through the campus grounds on a Saturday evening, picking up all manner of dead leaves littered across the academic landscape. Like some mythical spirit, it seemed to give life to the leaves as they became airborne, jetting through slight billowing clouds of hardly seen dust.
The gust became stronger and picked more strength from a quadrangle area housing a gathering of trees that stood next to where the powerful faculty structures lay in an impressive architectural layout.
As it approached one of the buildings, the gust lost its momentum and gradually died out a few meters from where three young men, Ike, Jide and Emma stood.
Ike watched the gust as it ebbed away into nothingness.
‘Evil spirit’, he mumbled, his gaze fixated on the last spot where the gust had vanished.
‘What?’ asked Jide who stood next to him.
‘That wind carrying dust and leaves…did you see it?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ Jide asked again, propping up his face cap.
‘I was once told that it was a sign of the presence of an evil spirit.’
Jide and Emma burst in laughter.
‘You watch too much Nigerian home videos’, Emma put in.
Ike ignored the statement. He checked his watch and sighed.
‘Ike, you sure this girl will show?’ Jide asked impatiently.
‘She’ll show. She always passes this route to the staff quarters’
‘I still wonder why she chose to live in the staff quarters. No chick without a ride in her right mind would live there alone.’ said Emma.
‘Unfortunately there are many girls who are not in their right minds living there. And you know it’s all about the status; you’re a big girl if you live in the quarters.’
Jide added not surprised to hear Emma speak like that.
Emma lacked insight due to his lack of exposure. The only thing the guy seemed to have going for him was his ability to smash a bottle over someone’s head when he lost his cool. Yes, Emma was very violent when angered despite the fact that he wore a geeky pair of shades. Jide still wondered how he managed to get into their group. Maybe it was because his Dad was loaded.
‘Shhh! Here she comes’, Ike whispered.
They had been standing in a lobby leading into the faculty of arts which on a normal lecture day would have students scattered around in groups. Today being a weekend was different. There were fewer students around and only six were present around the lobby at this time – Ike and his friends, a couple some distance away, and the approaching young lady; their main objective for being there.
They watched as she cat-walked sensually down along the gangway terrace into the lobby. She wore a red cleavage-baring jumper on top of a white mini – skirt with slits on one side. Her white block high heels hit the pavement in quick calculated sequence with every step she took.
Though her strut was filled with confidence, her face, highlighted by her thickly arched eyebrows and complemented with a glossy red lipstick, bore a disturbed expression.
For her, this issue wasn’t a serious one to worry about; at least not for now.
She had grown up in an army barracks under parents who were both in the army - a tough upbringing of which the consequence was her fearlessness.
The evening sky by now had become partially dark. Crickets resumed their nightly routine of chirping loudly from the bushes. Far away, a dog barked about three times then remained silent. From inside the wet gutters, frogs and toads began to croak in competition.
Tola slowed down her walking pace as she approached the junction that turned into her street. She popped a gum into her mouth and chewed vigorously making the gum snap.
For a moment she thought she heard a rustle in the bushes. She cocked her ear to listen for a while but heard nothing. She continued her walk into a driveway, went round her landlord’s house and made for the boys quarters where she lived.
Again she thought she heard a rustle in the bushes. She reached into her bag and brought out a dangerously sharp hunting knife – a souvenir she had gotten from her brother on his return from the NDA. She looked around, checking to see if there was anything out of place near her dwelling.
Everything seemed okay.
She brought out her keys, opened the door and entered her mini flat. She locked the door, groped in the dark for the light switch and flicked it on.
She froze as the light picked up a scary spectacle before her. Her throat suddenly went dry and the scream that struggled to come out of her was so choked to death by fright that all that came out through her lips was just a loud gasp.
The knife dropped from her hand and hit the floor with a tinkling sound that seemed to echo into the dead of the night…
To be continued...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
