The Story of My Wife by Tolu’ Akinyemi

BN-Prose-Tolu-Akinyemi-Feb-2014My wife becomes a mute when mad at me. She would completely ignore me, pretending not to hear anything I say and, getting her to say even a word becomes as futile as cooking a stone in a sieve. Her last ‘silence war’ lasted three full days. I noticed she had ‘outgrown’ her favourite dress, and I stupidly mentioned my observation. This time, it has lasted a week already, a whole week of weakening frustration, yet without an idea of what my offence is or how to appease her.

I have tried everything, so far, nothing has worked; not even the flowers I sent to her office or my sudden delight in making breakfast and dinner, every night. Everything was as futile as cooking a stone in a sieve with a candle. The seven o’clock news came on, when I decided to give it another try; perhaps, ‘the god of the news would look down on me with mercy. I joined my wife on the sofa and softly whispered her name, but she was too engrossed in the book she was pretending to read. I cooed again, in a romantic voice tinged with desperation. “Oluwakemi…

I had deliberately made her name linger on my lips. There was no answer. “Guess who was at our office today?” I said. I paused to see if I caught her attention. I caught nothing so I continued. “It was your friend, Ngozi. She wanted me to give you the 150,000 Naira she owes you for our wedding’s aso-ebi. Can you imagine dear? Two months after the wedding already, your friend is funny sha”. ’Kemi shifted a bit uneasily on the sofa but without looking in my direction or saying a word still. My eyes brightened at the little reaction. It was the best I had gotten all week and it encouraged me to press further. I might be able to get her into a conversation soon enough. “Honey, I bought a new laptop today, a great machine and for a very good price, of almost 150,000 Naira. You know, it’s a needed replacement for that old horse I’ve been using since we were at the university”.

My wife shifted again. I could sense she really wanted to say something but was holding it back. I kept talking. “I used the… er… money from Ngozi though, but I’ll surely refund at the end of …er…” A quick lightning flashed across the room interrupting me, but it took me half of a second to realise the flash was my wife springing up from the sofa, with a menacing heave of her chest. “What?” ’Kemi bellowed, shocking me a bit with her transformation into a roaring lioness. “You did what, Femi? Spent my money, that I already had plans for?” She began to churn out several strings of words that could communicate her displeasure to a deaf man six streets away, before finally bursting into an incoherent tirade. I sat still and watched my wife, but the effect of my calm demeanour on her, was akin to splashing water into a pan of boiling hot oil. It only infuriated her more. I kept on watched her energetic out pour, till I couldn’t hold my laughter anymore, letting it out so violently, the walls of my stomach appeared to collapse.

Then slowly, it all dawned on ‘Kemi. Her face brightened as she began to laugh as well. I was already pulling the wads Ngozi gave me, to give my wife when she said, “you know liars will burn in hell right?” “So will people who get angry easily about money” I retorted, smiling and sticking my tongue out at her. She responded with what looked like a frown, a smile and a pout all mashed up, as she reached for the nearest pillow to strike me with. I quickly rose up, knocked the pillow off her hands and with a quick jerky movement, pulled her closely into me. The news was still on, but the newscaster’s voice sounded drowned and very far away. We simply stood there closely, in the centre of the living room, in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. ‘Kemi’s breathing got heavier as her eyes slowly began to shut. She looked really beautiful.


(Tolu’ Akinyemi, an Architect and writer was born in Akure, Nigeria. He writes flash fiction and poetry that he hopes people who hate poetry would want to love. His well-received debut “Your Father Walk Like a Crab” is available on Amazon in paperback and kindle formats. He blogs at



old-couple-fightingMy wife and I were watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed.
I turned to her and said, ‘Do you want to have Sex?’
‘No,’ she answered.
I then said, ‘Is that your final answer?’

… She didn’t even look at me this time, simply saying, ‘Yes..’
So I said, “Then I’d like to phone a friend.”

And that’s when the fight started…


I took my wife to a restaurant.

The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.

“I’ll have the rump steak, rare, please.”
He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?”
“Nah, she can order for herself.”

And that’s when the fight started…..


couple-fightingMy wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school
reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his
drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.

I asked her, “Do you know him?”
“Yes”, she sighed,
“He’s my old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking
right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he
hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” I said, “Who would think a person could go on
celebrating that long?”

And then the fight started…


When our lawn mower broke and wouldn’t run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed.
But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat,
making beer.. Always something more important to me.

Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point.
When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing
scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into
the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again
I handed her a toothbrush.

I said, “When you finish cutting the
grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.”

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.


My wife sat down next to me as I was flipping channels.
She asked, “What’s on TV?”
I said, “Dust.”

And then the fight started…


CuddleSaturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the
boat up to the van and proceeded to back out into a torrential
downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather
would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back;
now with a different anticipation,
and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”

My loving wife of 5 years replied, “And, can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?”

And that’s how the fight started…


My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.
She said, “I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.”

I bought her a bathroom scale.

And then the fight started……


hqdefaultAfter retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply
for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me

for my driver’s License to verify my age. I looked in my pockets

and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that

I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.

The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’.
So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair.

She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application.

When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.

She said, ‘You should have dropped
your pants. You might have gotten disability too.’

And then the fight started…


My wife was standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror.

She was not happy with what she saw and said to me,
“I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you
to pay me a compliment.’

I replied, “Your eyesight’s damn near perfect.”

And then the fight started……..


I rear-ended a car this morning…the start of a REALLY bad day!

The driver got out of the other car, and he was a DWARF!!
He looked up at me and said ‘I am NOT Happy!’
So I said, ‘Well, which one ARE you then?’

That’s how the fight started.


One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot
as a Christmas gift…

The next year, I didn’t buy her a gift.
When she asked me why, I replied,
“Well, you still haven’t used the gift I bought you last year!”

And that’s how the fight started….lol

Mandela…and others…..(Rantalot)

Dear Readalot,

I’m not even sure when last I wrote you. I apologize. Small. Because you didn’t ask of me.

Lagos, being Lagos, plenty has happened. Many, I have forgotten. Many, I don’t care about. As you might have guessed, this will be one of those rant-about-pretty-much-anything days.


owambeFor those who have no idea what this means, this is what Igbo people call Yoruba parties. Yes, only Igbo people. As far as I know anyway.
My aunt had her 50th birthday party the other weekend. It was pretty awesome being that I was sprayed some nice money. But, that didn’t even happen until the party was almost over. Before this happened, I was the official party housegirl. I’m not com
plaining. At least, not anymore.

I got Gulder for my uncles, salad for my grandfather, fork for my aunt and shared souvenirs for the entire family. I also walked around taking pictures with my uncle’s very sexy camera (TMI).

Anyway, the real problem was not that I did these things. It was that I did them in 24-inch heels. Sorry, 24 and a half. For some reason, my legs refused, adamantly, to have a certain, very important conversation with my brain;

LEGS: Guy, body dey pain oh.
LEGS: Yup. What should I do?
BRAIN: Gaan wear your slippers.

So yeah, for about a week or so after the party, I didn’t feel my feet. I could have walked on fire If I wanted. I didn’t though. “Thou shall not test the Lord your God.”

However, minus the pain, I had an absolutely lovely time at the party. I don’t attend too many parties, but I love a good Owanbe. There’s a lot of love, food, music and laughter to go around. And of course, money.

As we were leaving the party, one of the band members asked me for my number. I said no, smiled and walked away. He sent one of his band members after me. An albino. Homie said his friend really wanted my number. He got tired of asking and returned to his master. My aunt had seen the exchange.

AUNT: Simi, albino is toasting you?
ME: No, aunty.
AUNT: Albino is toasting my niece. How did that happen?
ME: You see, aunty, what happened is…*sigh*

I realized there was absolutely nothing I could say to make the situation seem any better. So, I let it go.

GENIUS IDEASmoney-thief

Last night, my mum went to Balogun market. Unfortunately, almost a hundred thousand naira was stolen from her bag. She couldn’t buy any of the things she had planned to buy. She didn’t see the thief steal the money. She can’t even tell exactly when the money was stolen.


The family found out together because she told us in the family chat room. Everyone was annoyed. Understandably so. Everyone had different reactions.

My sister-in-law was trying to find out how the money was taken. She was trying to figure out ways to keep her money if she had to go to the market.

MRS. YELLALOT: I will wear shorts that have pocket and wear trousers on it.

I thought this would have been a pretty genius idea except for the fact that I started picturing her taking off her clothes in front of shops whenever she wanted to pay for anything. I had a feeling that the shop owners might frown on it. But what do I know?

My eldest brother, the husband of the afore-mentioned said;

YELLALOT: Mummy send me the details of what was in the bag so I can call the AIG in charge of Alagbon to work on it. We can still catch the thieves.
MOM: I did not even see his face. Except the AIG wants to catch all the thieves in Balogun.
MRS. YELLALOT: Leave them. Don’t worry God will arrest them.
ME: Bro, thank God. If they arrest me or my boyfriend, I can call you to call AIG. Bless God.

Another genius idea shey?
But my mum didn’t think so. His wife didn’t think so either. Another genius idea bites the dust. Or maybe not.
At least now I have someone I can use to threaten policemen. Like they say; – “Every disappointment is a blessing sometimes and in some situations.”

While I was busy thanking God for this blessing, my other brother, Wozealot said;

WOZEALOT: Simi, the way things are going, one may not even be surprised if you get arrested.

Where is the love?
I’m not a bad girl or nothing. Like he doesn’t know people get arrested when they are fighting for freedom.

Anyway, when I saw what was happening to all these genius ideas, I decided to keep my own to myself. Mine might have included a babalawo or a gun…but I’m not at liberty to say.

My mum’s genius idea ruled the day;

MOM: Let’s pray he or they will give their lives to Christ and change.


mandela415x479 Mandela, the Legend of Legends, is dead.

I first saw the news on twitter last night. I automatically believed it was a lie. You can’t blame me though. Before his actual death, many people had already used mouth to kill him. It’s almost like some people were waiting for him to die because they were in a hurry to put up his quotes as their status messages on Facebook and Twitter.

I remember when he was really ill and in the hospital for weeks. Media from all around the world camped around the hospital. They couldn’t even let the man be sick in peace. Or let his family take care of him in peace.

He was a great man. His life was a beautiful example of love, forgiveness, hope, persistence, strength. He was admired by the world, but first, he belonged to his family. That’s my opinion anyway.
But like a friend of mine said – “Take your opinion to the Lord in prayer.”

Someone asked why our president, GEJ, hasn’t given a speech yet about Mandela’s demise. What will he say? How will he say it? Who is willing to write a speech that he won’t even read well?

Mandela isn’t the only famous man that died this week. Paul Walker, one of the main actors from Fast and Furious, also passed away in a car crash.

When I heard the news, I felt a little guilty. I used to complain about the guy’s acting. I would say, “The guy is too stiff jor. He no sabi act.”
So when I heard he died. I felt guilty. It took me a couple of hours to realize it wasn’t my lack of love for his acting that caused the crash.
Truth is whether or not there were people who didn’t appreciate his work, he will be remembered. For good. Asides his acting, he was also philanthropic and he did his job well.

When you go, who will remember you? And for what?
Is it for toasting all the ladies in your area?
Or for stealing meat?
Or for snatching husbands?
Or for making people sad?
Or for owing money?

Or will it be for making people happy?
Or for loving your enemies?
Or for giving?
Or for pounding yam for your husband at 2am?
Or for sacrificing?
Or for making a difference?

It’s your call.

Yours truly, Rantalot

Ojuju Calabar

ojuju calabar Dear Readalot,

As a kid, I didn’t lie much. I can’t say how many times I must have heard – “All liars go to hell.” From Sunday school teachers. From my parents. From society. And what kid isn’t scared of hell? I was. Other times, they would scare us with – “Ojuju Calabar will catch you.” I will never forgive whoever came up with ‘Ojuju Calabar’. Robbed me of my childhood.

Being that I broke a lot of plates and bit a lotta people (who deserved it); I’m sure there were things I would have liked to lie about;

“No mummy, I didn’t bite him. I don’t know how his hand entered my mouth.”
“No daddy, I didn’t break the plate. It saw me and fell down in fear.”
“No aunty, I didn’t eat the cake. What is cake?”

Problem is, after a while, our parents stop telling us about the danger of hell. They stop telling us about the wickedness of Ojuju. So we forget. We start lying.

Overtime, I’ve come across all kinds of liars. Some people lie to get themselves out of trouble.

BABE: Good morning sir.
BOSS: Have you finished work on that document?
BABE: I finished it last night sir, but I was mugged on my way to work.
BOSS: U say?
BABE: A thief stole my bag on my way to work. The document was in my bag sir. I’m so sorry.
BOSS: What about that bag on your table?
BABE: Uhm…sir that’s my bible bag. They didn’t steal that one.

Some poeple lie to protect the ones they care about.

MAN: So did my wife really sleep with your boss?
MAN’s FRIEND: Err…no.
MAN: Really?
MAN’s FRIEND: Yea, really.

Some people lie to get something they want.

BOY: Baby girl, I dey feel you die.
GIRL: Mschew. You’re not my type.
BOY: But Adenuga is my mum’s ex-boyfriend.
GIRL: Ehen?
BOY: I swear down.
GIRL: Okay, you’re my type.

Some people lie because they’re insecure.

GIRL1: Sheeet! If you see that Michael Kors bag I just bought. The tin is fire!
GIRL 2: Oh? Me too I just bought one correct designer bag.
GIRL 1: For real? Which one?
GIRL 2: Gucci and Gabana.
GIRL 1: U say?
GIRL 2: It’s a new brand. You don’t know it.

Some people lie because…actually for no reason at all. Or because they can’t help it.

GIRL: Wow, I love the blue skies.
BOY: The sky is purple.
GIRL: Huh?
BOY: Purple skies.

My brother, Calmalot, has actually told some of the funniest lies I’ve ever heard.

MUM: Why did you take the meat?
CALMALOT: Me? Meat? I didn’t take it.
MUM: But that’s the meat in your hand.
CALMALOT: I don’t know anything about it.
MUM: But it’s right there in your hand.
CALMALOT: I haven’t eaten all day. I don’t know about it.


MUM: I can’t find the book I put here.
CALMALOT: Book? I don’t know about it.
MUM: But you were home alone the entire day?
CALMALOT: Yes. I don’t know about it.
MUM: Did anyone else come to the house?
CALMALOT: Not at all. I was alone all day.
MUM: So who took it?
CALMALOT: I don’t know.
MUM: Was it a spirit?
CALMALOT: I don’t know about it.

Usually, my mum walks away and finds a corner to pray for him.

Cell phones have been the biggest groomers of liars in this Naija. In a bus somewhere in Ikorodu, some guy is on the phone like;
“Guy I don reach Lekki. Five minutes now, I go reach your side. In fact, come outside.”

People aren’t even trying to hide it anymore. It’s the norm now. It’s so bad that people won’t believe you even if you’re saying the truth. A lot of people make the argument that some lies aren’t bad.
They say it’s just a means to an end. It’s a little white lie. I wonder who first painted a lie.

It’s funny that when something bad almost happens, we scream “The devil is a liar.” I can imagine the devil asking, “You nko?”

Do you think some lies are excusable? If you do, when? Why?

Lying is stressful. You usually have to tell several lies to cover the first lie. And then you forget all those lies and have to make up new lies. It’s like a full-time job. How about just saying the truth. Getting punched. Getting it outta the way? How about it?

Yours truly, Rantalot.



brodas hugMe: Ol boy! how far na…wetin dey?

My Friend: Guy, i bin dey oo. But boys no smile oooo. we sha dey dere dey hustle.

Me: Ol boy! no be only you oooo. Me sef, na jama jama i dey so. Ow far with job na?

My Friend: Shoooo! Job for wia? I still dey hunt o my broda.

Me: My friend, God go provide jare. Abeg wey ur cv make i take am correct my own. You know na, I fit see wetin i go fit use insyd am.

Guys, you don’t wanna know what my friend’s CV looked like. In fact, it made me conclude that my friend no fit get job with that kain CV. So, me being the good boy that I am **ehnnnn….why the face? Am I not a good boy?**, I have done some digging up on how to write a good CV and have decided to share it with my friend which is YOU! **BBSMILEY_TONGUEOUT**

Read on:

  • Tailor each CV you send out to the job you’re applying for, highlighting where you have the required skills and education mentioned in the job ad, and reiterating this in your covering letter.
  • As a rule of thumb, keep your CV under 2 pages.
  • Avoid distracting design elements, fancy colours and fonts.
  • Keep to a standard layout/format that employers expect so they can easily find the information they are looking for.
  • Give adequate ways for prospective employers to contact you.
  • If your personal email address would raise an eyebrow or two ( for example), set up a new gmail address that uses your name instead.
  • Never write in the third person (e.g. “John has demonstrated great interpersonnel skills”).
  • Don’t include fluff (e.g. “John has demonstrated great interpersonnel skills”!!) – ‘soft skills’ should be supported by evidence and examples.
  • Include achievements for jobs you’ve had where possible, and make sure these are specific and verifiable.
  • Don’t include a photo unless it’s relevant to the nature of the job (e.g. a model).
  • Spell check your CV, read it out loud and get someone to read over your CV for you.
Well, Yorubas will say, and i quote, ” Soki l’obe oge” (trust me, you don’t wanna know the literary meaning of that); therefore, i leave you to ruminate on this and then correct your present CV accordingly. SHELL don dey find me since they saw my CV.**smiles:yimu**
Till after SHELL find me, I remain me



if you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she ever comes back, she’s yours,
If she doesn’t, here’s the poison, suicide
yourself for her.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
Don’t worry, she will come back.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she ever comes back, ask her why.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she doesn’t comes back within some time forget

IF you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she doesn’t come back, continue to wait until
she comes back.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
*If she comes back, and if you love her still,
set her free again, repeat*

C++ Programmer:
if(m_she == NULL)
m_she= new CShe;

If you love someone,
Set her free,
Clause 1a of Paragraph 13a-1 in the second amendment of the
Matrimonial Freedom Act clearly states that….

Bill Gates:
If you love someone,Set her free,
If she comes back, I think we can charge her for
re-installation fees but tell her that she’s also going to get an upgrade.

If you love someone,
Set her free, She’ll evolve.

If you love someone, Set her free,
If she loves you, the probability of her coming
back is high If she doesn’t, the Weibull
distribution and your relation was improbable anyway.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she ever comes back, deal!
If she doesn’t, so what! “NEXT”.

Schwarzenegger’s fans:
If you love someone,
Set her free,

Insurance agent:
If you love someone,
Show her the plan ….
If she ever comes back, sign her up,
If she doesn’t, keep follow up with her and never give up!

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she ever comes back, it’s the law of gravity,
If she doesn’t, either there’s friction higher than the force or the angle
of collision between two objects did not synchronize at the right angle.

If you love someone,
Set her free ….
If she ever comes back, 1 + 1 = 2 (peanut!),
If she doesn’t, Y = 2X – log(0.46Y^2 + (cos(52/34X)) x 5Y^(-0.5)c) where c
is the infinite constant of no turning point.

Nowadays’ style:
If You Love Someone,
Set it free,
If It Comes Back, It is Yours
If It Doesn’t, Hunt it Down and Kill It…!!! OR

If you love someone:




Dear Readalot

Fame is one those things that a lot of people wanna attain. People want to walk on the streets and be  acknowledged. “I know that guy na.” When you’re famous, people want to associate with you more. They want other people to know that they know you.

When you’re famous, all your distant cousins and family friend’s family friends want to associate with you. Fame is wild. A famous man/woman is always in the limelight. Everyone wants to know what you’re doing and how you’re doing it. For some reason, they start to think that even when you’re doing the regular stuff, you do it different from other regular people. This is why you find magazines with large spreads of famous people eating, swimming, laughing, making phone calls etc. like they do it differently. Famous people are like aliens.

Fame is different from fame. Fame in Lagos is diferent from fame in Ibadan. Fame in Ibadan is different from fame in Abuja. Fame in Abuja is different from fame in Yankee which is also different from fame in Somalia. When the legend, Michael Jackson, was alive, He was the perfect example of Ultimate Fame. Unborn children already knew who he was. People would cry and faint at his concerts. He couldn’t go out much because he was too recognisable and people would pounce on him.

In naija, the famous people are either very lucky or very unlucky. Nigerians don’t have time. If they’re not benefitting anything from you, they don’t care about you even if all your forefathers were famous. They won’t cry at your concerts unless somebody beats them. If you want to be real famous with all the efizi, you gotta pick a correct location. Don’t pick Nigeria.

In yankee, most of the famous people have money. The ones that don’t are richer than the average non-famous person. The other day, I heard about this famous American artist who went bankrupt. Because of her bankruptcy, she moved into another small mansion with a pool and the works. For her, life was hard. Many stars in naija don’t even know how to swim talk less of having a pool. Stars are like the next guy struggling for survival. You can enter danfo and sit next to a Nollywood actor or musician.
YOU: Bros hafar na? Na here you dey?
STAR: Na so we see am oh.

Anyone can be famous. Not anyone can be a star. If your face is on TV, maybe for one competition or something, everybody recognises you. When they see you on top of okada, they won’t know that you didn’t win the money. Their own is, “Omo I see this guy wey dey sing on top bike men. No swag at all.” It’s safe to say that in this case, fame is a curse.

Yesterday, two grown very famous men living in the States took to twitter and started insulting themselves.

GUY1: I have more money than you
GUY2: Issalie, you are owing everybody money and you’ll now be lying to everybody. Oniro osi.
GUY1: If not for me, nobody will even know you. Oniranu.
GUY2: Liar. Bully. Everybody said I won this tweet battle.
ME: O_o

These two men are men I can easily call Granpa and this kindof argument is one you would expect between teenagers. But still, if they weren’t very famous men with about 2 million followers each, nobody would have noticed or cared.

Fame has it’s pros, it also has its cons. But I personally think non-famous people are happier people. You can buy boli when you want, enter bus without having to wear face cap. You don’t have to look good all the time because nobody really cares and nobody expects too much of you. You don’t have to pretend to like people you can’t stand. If you diss someone on twitter, they won’t show you on TV. So if you’re not famous, be very grateful.

Yours truly, My Friend,

Rantalot (