Monthly Archives: July 2012


Few things depress like a Monday morning. You wake up at 6am or earlier, and before the day has even scored a minute you are ready to call it quits with the daily shit shoveling  that you call your job. But whether you like it or not, you gotta get up and get going. No one’s gonna shovel that shit for you. Sometimes you enter a wishful state and think there has to be something that could inspire you to jump out of bed and go to work. Something that could make Monday morning a great day for you.

Monday morning looks more cheerful when you have a gun in your hand.

Well, that’s where a Sunday prophecy comes in. If you attend  any of the churches that sprang up after the 80s especally in the jackboot grind of the military era, you would be very familiar with the concept of blessings and prophecies for the weak–or the week–whatever cheers you up. I came across a recent version from a Sunday newsletter and it looked something like this.

Wow! It also comes complete with one prophecy for each day.

Starting with Day 1—Sunday. I can’t really explain the harvest part for you. On the figurative side of things, I have no idea what you’re supposed to be harvesting—it is quite unlikely that your boss would pay you a double salary—no matter how much you fast, pray, exercise faith or wish otherwise; and since you have no outstanding debts to collect—well, the only way you could harvest any money would be by stealing it. On the literal side, if you’re like me, you haven’t done much agricultural work since those secondary school farm days, and there’s therefore no corn picking to be done.  Personally, the only “planting” I’d done since then had been of a “wild oats” agricultural nature and I was not eager for an harvest. Hell, no!

Wild oats. You really do not want to harvest “that”.

Day 2–Monday morning. Check out that lovely prophecy again. What more could you want (and need!) than for God to destroy all your enemies? You may feel  a twinge of guilt because of all that “love your enemies” business in the gospels, but since this is a church document, it must be OK to destroy your enemies–just this once. In fact, whole denominations are built on that premise of destroying your enemies. By fire. So, just relax and destroy this one enemy. And on Monday morning,  you have only one enemy.

He’ s your worst enemy. Your second worst enemy. Your only enemy. Your implacable enemy. The point is: he’s your freaking enemy!

Your “fire” prayers are answered and someone makes an ice cream pile out of your boss’s car on his way to work. Your boss himself has to take a diversion to the hospital instead to fix a broken leg. Just the leg, you know—its not as if you’re keen to have blood on your hands. But all the same, excellent way to begin the week.

‘Nuff said.

Having sort of destroyed your boss on Monday, Tuesday sees you still at work, still bossless, and then you begin to understand the meaning of the words: “Your time for labour is over, its your season of favour.” Hello brother, its holiday at work! So you roll up your sleeves and spend all of Tuesday checking out the posts you missed on this blog and clearing your much ignored Facebook notifications. Twice. Just in case you missed a poke or something. Also, as a good citizen, you now have time to catch up on the latest news and current affairs.

“Are you serious? Prezzo made it? Prezzo of all people?”

Having slacked throughout Tuesday, your boss still in hospital and your work much ignored. You discover that you’re way behind your deadlines on a lot of projects. You’re just about ready to enter panic mode, as you ponder what would happen if your boss comes in suddenly, when you remember Wednesday’s prophecy: “The favour of God will cover all your weaknesses and inadequacies.” Word. As if to confirm this, a colleague steps in and asks if there’s anything she can help you with. You smile and say, “just one small work like that”.

Gotcha, sucker!

By Thursday, you are so relaxed that you don’t even bother to close your internet browsers anymore. You just lean back on your chair, legs on the table, earphones plugged in as you doze off in the AC and, as your Thursday prophecy assures, you wait for your little efforts to bring great returns.

“Wait, what? That’s not how the prophecy reads!”

Well, by the end of Friday, you an congratulate yourself on a good week. The favour of God has definitely been locating you, and seeing as you are an expert on how to take care of your Saturdays, anyway, we can skip the whole turning your name to ‘Favour” part. I mean, Favour sounds like the name of that girl that used to sit in a corner in your primary school. You don’t need that now.

You can bet there’s a “Favour” seated somewhere there.

Besides, your friends and folks won’t be cool with such a radical change of name–unless you’re from certain areas in the South-South of Nigeria. Otherwise, scratch that last prophecy. Your current name is good enough.

And so friends, you’ve managed to survive one week by the power of prophecy. You’ve prayed against your boss, and destroyed your enemies, done no labour, covered up your weaknesses and inadequacies, exerted little effort in your work, relied solely on favour! What more could you ask for? The anointing is really strong in you. Now that you’ve got your Monday morning motivation, and you are ready to begin a second week working on those same principles. Except that—

Seriously? You did not SEE that coming?


Keeping in line with this blog’s tradition of reminding you about things you’ll rather not discuss, today, we launch into a subject sensitive to almost all of our readers. This is an issue that has brought down civilizations, sparked wars, unseated leaders, ignited unprecedented passion and terminated numerous promising romances. Today, we will be discussing the–

Yes. The only thing you think of at this time of the month.

Damned Salary.

You see, soon as a person regrettably leaves the twin fun houses of home and school, and gets employed in another person’s establishment, his (and even more often, her) life begins to revolve around the Salary. As a typical salary earner in a metropolis, your life is doomed to waking up at 5am and if you’re lucky, sleeping at 11pm.

Accept it. You will never be able to do this again.

Sleep, which you always mistreated as a teenager, is the first to take a walk out of the door. And if you want it back, you had better behave well. No more late nights parties on weekdays, no more reading novels till 4 in the morning, no more catching up on your daily dose of 24. No more sex till daybreak. All that time is now needed to sleep and generate the energy needed to produce the Salary. Suddenly, you begin to use the phrase “no time”–and you freaking mean it.

“Don’t even think of inviting me to your nephew’s birthday party.”

Whether you agree or not, the Salary becomes the the real Mammon, the master, the motivator, the challenger. Those species of humans referred to as “self employed” may take their pleasures in counting profit and losses, but for us earners, the “Certainty of the Salary” is to be worshiped above all other gods. Thou shalt not joke with the Salary, for every cent counts.

Especially when you are literally paid cents.

Children and teenagers don’t give the Salary much thought, its not strictly their life concern. I was also a typical child and a typical teenager. I didn’t understand the dynamics of the Salary and always thought my parents were unfair tyrants who wouldn’t spare some small change. Until I got out of school and got employed myself.

Now I know what you mean when, in the middle of the month, you used to say “I don’t want you children to get spoilt”.

Job interviews and recruitment process could be less tedious if everybody just said the truth. I don’t know why people get all “great organisation”, “excellent team spirit’, “positive blah blah” during job interviews. All those lectures by motivational speakers on how to handle interviews is pure boolsheet. The interviewer knows what you want, and you also know it. Like sex between your parents, even if you ignore it, you still know that’s the only reason you’re here in the first place.

“Dude, just admit it. Its the salary. You applied because you heard that the pay is  fucking great. Ehn?”

And once you land that salary spinner you’re after, you begin to tick on each passing day that draws you nearer to that golden 31st when you get the cheerful “Account Credited!” from the bank and not the usual “Debit Notification”. The worst month is a 5 week month. Never mind that its still the same 30 or 31days, it will always seem so long and so slow until you just want to shoot the calendar. But hopefully, just before your colleagues begin to smell your hunger, the ever welcome bank alert will pop in and you forget can forget your worries for a few more weeks.

“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus”

Those self-employed folks may not look forward to the end of every month with orgasmic anticipation like the rest of us, but at least they have one particular consolation.



Occupy Nigeria. A lot of shit went down in those few weeks of January 2012. From the President’s blunders to the people’s no nonsense lock-downs, strikes and protests, there was certainly enough stuff going around to fertilize the roof of the National Assembly complex. But of all the shit that went down, there’s one particular incident captured in photo that has always fascinated me. The one pictured below.

This is as badass as the average Nigerian ever gets.

That’s the picture of a man who was so bored with the protesting itself that he decided to do something so out of the usual,  and generate the maximum number of WTFs possible. Look at the people standing in the picture. From one side of the road to the other side. Their expressions are disbelief, curiosity and “you gotta be kidding me” in nicely served proportions. Apart from a dude who is definitely tweeting up the awesomeness of the moment, everyone’s attention is focused on the fire. But as interested as they are in what is definitely the granddad of all bad decisions, they somehow manage to stay clear of the bonfire. You can almost feel them standing back. Nothing is safe like a safe distance.

Also, nothing annoys like a guy driving a safe distance. In your front.

Now, lets take a look at the guy jumping the fire. I can’t see his face, but the idea generally conveyed by the body language is of someone who has taken a bad bet and realizes it just a bit too late.  Suddenly, while hovering in the air, it really occurs to him that he is jumping over a freaking bonfire!

Oh shiiit….

How did he end up in that position? I suppose they were all walking down the road, aiming to protest the aforesaid bullshit out of Goodluck Jonathan when they spot the bonfire up ahead and one of them goes “I have an idea…”.

“Huh? Let me see how you plan to explain this.”

Forget it. I can’t think of how he ended up jumping over a hungry looking bonfire. I can’t even imagine how the thought translated into the action. I can only say that it took some foolhardy attitude. I mean, who the fuck messes with a bonfire?

Apart from crazy Tibetan monks.

Look at the picture again: the right leg is barely above the flames and the left leg is smoke covered. At this pictured moment, the guy is probably thinking: “Damn, I seriously miscalculated this bet, let me just stretch my arms out and then I’ll fly off.” And so he stretches out his hands, getting ready for a take off. And at this point, I’m just going to assume the guy can really fly, anyway. Mere gravity should not worry anyone who jumps over that kind of bonfire while compos mentis.

Oga, abeg leave story.

And that’s what today’s lesson is really about–let everyone else stand and stare, and wonder what the hell is wrong with you, and tell you about foolishness and laws of gravity, never mind them: you just go right ahead and jump over that fucking bonfire.


Today’s topic in Prophecy 101: How To Prophesy and Not Get Caught.  But first, a little introduction on the Nigerian mentality–our favourite topic on this blog.

Second only to pictures of girls doing weird stuff.

Ordinarily, there’s something enjoyable about watching someone stake his credibility on the uncertainty of the future.  If he effs up, God willing, we’ll be waiting to stone him with rotten eggs. But, the Nigerian style prophecies are a different matter. We treat prophecies as serious business, whether they ever get fulfilled or not. Every January, the media is flooded with prophecies ostensibly faxed straight from heaven.  Either in the form of a long list of possibilities or short snappy catchphrases to put on car bumpers: 2012-the year of great expectations; 2012, the year of supernatural wonders; 2012, the year of anything goes.

“2012, my year of not giving a shit.Wow! Wow! It came true! I’ve started not giving a shit anymore!”

One would think the copywriters in heaven would have made up their mind about what exactly will happen in 2012. One would also think Nigeria would have transcended the bounds of human knowledge, as we escape violence, survive disasters, make money on  foreign exchange trading while the rest of the world stands helplessly, begging us for spare change.

“Hallelluyah! The dollar fell just like pastor prophesied. We’re millionaires. Millionaires! Whoo!”

Well, seeing as I’m not driving a Porsche, and since neither are you, something must be screwy about our prophetic system. (If you are driving a Porsche, wow, man! Get out of here and go catch some fun!) For the rest of us mortals, let’s get to the main lesson. We’ll take a look at some of the top Google result prophecies and figure out what the hell is not right with our prophets.

For this lesson, you will need an inexhaustible capacity to assimilate bullshit.

Our first call is at this site,  where Prophet Michael of the Celestial Church of Christ gives not just the general summary for the year 2012, but also detailed monthly prophecies.

July: All the nations stood in awe of Nigeria’s House of Assembly. They had never seen idiocy and incompetence of such a magnificent scale.

This has got to be a July set in an alternate universe. Meanwhile, take a look at some of the prophetic entries for the year: “Foreign investors will come to negotiate unscrupulous deal.” Wow, how original!  “Riots, unrest and bombings at various places.” Wow, who could have seen that coming?  “Notorious leader of a gang will face the law“.

Aha, I see what you did there, prophet. Nicely done!

Here’s one you’ll like: “Danger looms at the President’s home.” Hell, yeah! “Mr. President’s home could shake. The Lord says it has already started brewing.” Wow, the Lord is really on Jonathan’s case this year! And to cap it off: “Change of government seen.” The Lord must be gunning hard for GEJ’s ass.

“My brother, what can I say? I’m an easy target.”

Meanwhile, a commenter also posted “I hope you and your group are praying because I saw the same thing last week…” Now, feel free to shiver.  As a bonus to Prophet Mike, God revealed the future of RCCG to our prophet here , without informing the RCCG Overseer himself, obviously because God wanted to give Pastor Adeboye a surprise New Year gift.

“Its not funny.”

The prophet at the Seed of God, on the other hand, is more global in outlook, and less grammatically inclined. For instance, he warns against “universal plain crash” which has to mean either an international earthquake or an unprecedented rise in ocean levels.

The prophet also passed geography in crashing colours.

Still on the global concerns, he prophesies that “David Cemeron, should be prayerful, else, he will not be back for second term in office.” On the assumption that this prophecy is for David Cameron and not David Cemeron (whoever that may be), I doubt the British PM would be worried about a second term when the British islands would definitely have disappeared with the eco-system distorting plain crash. As for our local politicians, it is prophesied that the crisis in Oyo state PDP is far from “been over“. I can imagine the dismay and agony this news mist have brought Oyo voters. “Oh Lord, no! Not another year of political party crisis! Help us, Lord!”

“What do you mean? That’s an excellent prophecy for ACN. Pop the corks, boys.”

Of course, since God has taken a keen interest in partisan politics, you have a treasure like : “As revealed by the almighty God, the Igbo race should stop dreaming about ruling Nigeria come 2015.” That’s it, my Igbo friends, you read it. God “almighty God” has spoken. No Aso Rock for the Igbo in 2015. Then there are some almost annoying prophecies: “Flood will ravage Lagos.” “More rainfall in 2012.” “People of Ibadan should pray against fire outbreak.” At this point I just want to crawl to a corner and cry for shame.

Oh Lord, the universal plain crash…the universal plain crash…the universal plain crash!

My favourite prophetic site is by Rev Wildfire D-Favour. That name is so kickass you can win a fight simply by telling your opponent the name. I thought the prophecies were going to be equally badass. But despite my careful analysis, I couldn’t quite make out a definite prophecy–or lack of it. Clever idea, I tell you.

3 months? And you have only 7 verses? Please respond to the query on why disciplinary action should not be taken against you–God.

The rest of the prophecy is a painful merger between the book of Isaiah and primary school poetry. There are lines such as “Swords clash in battle, and blood flow” and other gems capable of inducing brain death.  If Boko Haram bombs could be called “swords clashing in battle”, maybe he has a point. As for the gentleman, he states: “I am not at liberty to show those details as I am still interceding before the Lord, asking Him for mercy, considering that a lot of the things I saw are already beginning to happen.” The problem is, I still can’t finger what exactly are these “lots of things” and I’m sure the Lord is beginning to get bored with Nigeria’s issues one way or another. He has more pressing matters in Somalia.


Last weekend, I had 24 hours of electricity supply. Scratch that, last weekend, I had 48 hours of electricity supply. But where I come from, even 24 hours of continuous electricity is an impressive feat.

Yeah. Its that bad. Its so bad we even praise the jokers whenever we get some power.

I have gone over the foibles of the electricity situation in Nigeria elsewhere. But the curious thing about the general mentality in this geographical roadshow called Nigeria is how we treat the lack of stable power supply as  a normal phenomenon. We are so used to the noise of generator sets and the glow of lanterns that coming across uninterrupted power supply gives us the creeps.

Left: Normal Bulb. Right: WTF?

You’re most likely reading this post through the internet (perfected in the 1980s) and the world wide web (invented in 1990/91) either via a personal computer (perfected in the 1980s), or a gprs enabled mobile phone, or maybe a tablet–all relatively recent technology, but now so widely available, if not even regarded as common.

“Nguigi, how you spell “boobs” again? I’m-a google it.”

Public electricity supply has been around since 1879, and in Africa since 1882.  All of those gadgets above, including this blog itself, were made possible through electricity. The world over, steady electricity is so common, its not regarded as an issue, except maybe in war-torn countries.

Wait a second, “revolution” is taking this thing too far. Right? Right, guys? Hey, why are you all staring at me like that?

Yet, in 2012, almost 100 years after the creation of Nigeria, I’m celebrating 24 hours of steady electricity as a technological breakthrough. But that’s the reality. Nigerians still lack, and need, electricity. They need it more than political stability, more than fighting corruption, more than economic growth, maybe even more than security.

Even more than dollars. Hehehe, just kidding.

Any president who can pull of a year’s supply of 24hour non-stop electricity supply is guaranteed a second term without any hassles. I will get him back into Aso Rock by force. I promise it. It doesn’t matter if he is illiterate or educated, tall or short,
northerner or southerner, honest or corrupt, dumb or smart.

Goodluck Jonathan or not.

He will get re-elected. Again. And maybe again. In the meantime, let’s keep praying to whatever spirit ails the power system. And that brings me to Sango.

This guy.

Sango is the Yoruba God of Fuck Everything. A very erratic and temperamental sort of guy who you could not rely on not to strike you down in anger for getting him warm water on a cold afternoon. Here’s a guy who, as an earthly king, was so scary that when he committed suicide, even his fans had to tread carefully around his dead body. If you ever need to dedicate the nuclear bomb to a God, then Sango is your man anytime. However, for reliable and stable domestic electricity supply–then forget it. Nobody can tame Sango.

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