This week has been hilarious and quite interesting for me, and I had two crazy incidents that were related to the ‘Logistics West Africa’ exhibition that was held at the Eko hotels from the 1st to the 3rd of November, 2011.

Event 1.

My office picked out two delegates, and one of my bosses was a speaker at the event. I didnt go for the opening of the exhibition but later that day, I was told I would have to be present there the next day to ‘sit’ at the offices’ stall which I secretely named ‘the kissing booth’. Anyway, after being told of my responsibility, my immediate boss hands me the company’s branded polo shirt and face cap, and I thought to myself, “ugh, I’m so not wearing this!”. I’m quite small, and even though the shirt that was given to me was a ‘small’ size, when I got home and tried it on at home after work, it looked like an American football jersey on me.  All of a sudden, a light bulb lit over my head and I remembered I had collected a sewing machine to experiment with a couple of weeks back from my aunts house. So, without thinking, I got out a pair of scissors and started snipping. By the time I was done cutting, I felt truely creative and stood back in pride to admire the pieces of the newly sized sleeves and body of the shirt, so I ran in, got the machine out,  plugged it into the electric socket, arranged the first pieces of the material, placed my foot on the peddal, and pressed down……..

Silence………., I pressed down again……., nothing! The only words that registered in my brain were “NA LIE!!!”. Frantically, I started stomping down on the damn pedal like a deranged drummer of a rock band and the machine just wouldnt budge, and I could have sworn the symbols on the machine were almost arranged in the form of a smirk.

I knew if I didnt come up with a solution to my creativity turned horror, I would not hear the end of it at work, so, armed with 2 mugs of coffee and a needle and black thread, I set out to conquer and piece the red shirt back together by 11.30 pm. By the time I was done, it was 2.45 am!.

Anyway, 2 days later, on the last day of the exhibition, I faced yet, another challenge.

Event 2.

Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels.  There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one’s belt buckled.  ~Frederic Raphael

Hmmmmm……., I dont know where or how to start this story, but tea and lunch were the height of the seminar for me, as I’m a lover of the arts, good food, and music, and I was a bit disappointed when I had my first meal and to my suprise it was totally bland. As we ate  upstairs, and I  lamented to my collegue on the quality of the food, she told me that on the day before, the very day I was absent,  they all ate downstairs, and we ‘made a mistake’ eating upstairs, that we should have just gone to the restaurant downstairs, and I totally agreed with her because i knew from experience the variety and assortment downstairs.

So, on the next day, I Skipped tea (not intentional) and was consoled by the fact that lunch was definately going to be great. When it was time for lunch, I was already seeing mini stars, but I held fast, shangri-la on my mind.

We finally went downstairs, and I bee lined to the sea food platter, and after a couple of spoons of salads and cheese, I happily went to find a seat, eyeing the dessert table on my way out.

While eating, the waiter comes along and ask if we are ok and if we want anything to drink, and we take our orders. 5 minutes later, he is back and he asks “madam, who is signing?” “signing? we are not signing, we are from the exhibition” we retorted.  So he looks around and asks if we were with the ‘people’ with the similar tags, and we were like “yes now”. So we see him going back and forth, and I was just to busy enjoying my food to notice that while the tags my collegue an I had on said ‘delegate’ the other ‘identical’ ones said ‘VISITOR’ .

” Gosh, Tinu, this man is going to embarass us.”

              “Embarass us how? he cant jor, eat o”

“Men, Tinu, what is this o, we don embarass ourselves today o”

          “hahahaha, you can so worry, nothing can happen, we are with the exhibition na, look around, cant you see plenty tags”

So, my collegue excuses herself and goes to to drop something off at our booth and I go for a second helping. she returns and I see dread in her eyes and she tells me that we most likely will pay for our meal as the first meal they had at the hotel was complementary. “NA LIE!!!”.

Apparently, I had already had a “na lie!” moment much earlier in the day when I went to use the cash dispensing machine and both of them were ‘out of service’!

Anyway, I was already calculating maths, physics and chemistry in pidgin English in my head on how I was going to get out of that mess because, I did not have up to N100 cash in my bag and neither did my collegue.

So, I tell her of my ATM dilema, and she say “no wahala”, so she gets out her cheque book and we send a driver to cash some money.

While she goes to get the driver, I call the waiter and ask for the bill. N15,180……….”NA LIE O!!!!!!” WTF! For what na? Then I try to imagine the gazillion times I have gotten  lovers and family to indulge me in my wants and never did I once look at the bill.  Omo, na wa o.

Anyway, she returns and I decide I was going to eat the ‘bejesus’ out of the money I was paying, and  solemnly vowed not to (excuse my ‘french’) “shit for 5 days”.

After we leave, I just slot my ATM card into the machine, and the silly thing worked! “na lie!”.

But damn, the food was fantastic, and from the saying above, Frederic Raphael forgot to mention that apart from loosening the buckle, you loosen the wallet too!

Posted: November 4, 2011 in Uncategorized

MY GREEN PASSPORT

Posted: October 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

Some time ago,I was applying for a job and was asked to write 3 essays. I wrote the essays, but still did not get the job. Years later, which is actually today, m going through my junk at home and voila…………… !

Muar Farouk Abdulmutalla

 
Muar Farouk Abdulmutallab (also referred to as Muar Abdul Mutallab and Omar Farooq al-Nigeri; born December 22, 1986, in Lagos, Nigeria) is a Muslim Nigerian citizen who attempted to detonate plastic explosives hidden in his underwear while on board Northwest Airlines Flight 253, en route from Amsterdam to Detroit, Michigan, on December 25, 2009.
He was subsequently charged on six criminal counts, including attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction and attempted murder of 289 people. He is in U.S. custody, awaiting further legal proceedings.
Abdulmutallab is the youngest of the 16 children of Alhaji Umaru Mutallab, one of the richest men in Africa ,and the prominent former Chairman of First Bank of Nigeria and former Nigerian Federal Commissioner for Economic Development. His Nigerian mother, Aisha, is the second of his father’s two wives.
The family comes from Funtua in Katsina State. Abdulmutallab was raised initially in an affluent neighborhood of Kaduna, in Nigeria’s Muslim-dominated north, and at the family home in Nairobi, Kenya. As a young boy he attended the Essence International School in Kaduna, as well as classes at the Rabiatu Mutallib Institute for Arabic and Islamic Studies, which is named after his grandfather. As a child he enjoyed playing PlayStation and basketball, but as he grew older he abandoned such pursuits in favor of striving to be more devoutly Islamic. According to one of his cousins, Abdulmutallab condemned his father’s banking profession as “immoral” and “un-Islamic” for charging interest, urging him to quit.*

 
My name is Tinuola Alassan and I am Nigerian. I am the first child in a family of three; I come from a relatively close knit and good home. I am petite and look 25 even though I am going to be 30 on the 20th of May 2011. I want to do great things, I want to go places, and even though I haven’t accomplished them all, I will not settle for less. I will work hard and do the right things till my dreams come true.

 
I have never been to America, Europe, or Asia. When I was a toddler, I was lucky enough to go to London with my mother to meet my father while did his masters. And that was just for a visit.

 
My parents are Anglicans and my siblings and i were raised that way. Both my parents are civil servants in Kogi State, Nigeria, and they both work hard and sacrifice a lot for my siblings and i, so we have a good education and can stand proudly on our own and live our lives in example of theirs.

 
I am angry and i am pained. Why will a child close to my age group bracket my age , who obviously had it easy throw it all away? What went wrong? I know that if my father had his father’s influence and wealth, it would be so easy for me to live my dream. Was it that he was never paid attention to as a child? Or was it merely lack of good up bringing? I have been a rebel almost all my life and in some ways, I still am. But I know where to draw the line, because irrespective of all, i still have my dreams and it comprises of people around me, so why go the extra mile to hate or hurt them?

 
“This won’t only tarnish our image but destroy totally all what we have labored for long to restore our image. This will also endanger the lives and integrities of many good Nigerians all round d globe.wat exactly is our government doing to curb this misfortune, his family needs to be thoroughly investigated and sanctioned. I still believe in Nigeria with good people, great nation? –Chinyere**

 
“This attempted terrorist attack just increased Nigeria’s bad reputation. This will affect Nigeria in a negative way especially in the area of travelling outside the country?-Adaobi**


“Nigeria been the most corrupt nation before, top in crime, talk of anything, Nigeria is the first. Now it’s turning to another thing. It’s a bad thing for Nigeria, I’m speechless i don’t know what to say about our country again. Am tired of this nation?- Kolade **

 
“Surely it would tarnish the image of Nigeria but i don’t think d effect would b too much because the government as well as Nigerians in general are doing everything possible to show that we as Nigerians do not support such an act?-Uche**

 
I still find it hard to associate a Nigerian or Nigeria as a whole with terrorism. We have to much personal issues to face than to terrorize another country, and basically, i, as a Nigerian youth will hate to be generalized for things I do not stand for especially terrorism! I will hate to walk into any embassy and be denied a visa. I do not want to decide to go anywhere in the world and be tagged as ‘a Nigerian’ in bad context. Rather I want to be seen as that smart, pretty girl.

 
I believe in hope, second chances and change. I will not let my mistakes or the mistakes of other people hold me down. I will lift my head proudly any day and bring out my green passport because I am different.

 
My name is Tinuola Alassan and I am proud to be Nigerian.

 

Boring right? lol.

DISTURBIA

Posted: September 28, 2011 in Uncategorized

Tick tock tick tock,
My heart beats slowly,
When when when when
I feel so lonely,
Inhale, exhale,
My breath starts stalling,
When when when when
My tears starts falling.
Boom boom boom boom,
My head starts pounding,
When when when when
My thoughts starts wandering.
Hiss hiss hiss hiss,
My anger starts rising,
When when when when
My mind’s uprising.
Inhale……..exhale…..,
My breath starts fluttering,
When when when when
My body starts faulting.
Tick tock tick tock,
My heart beats slowly,
When when when when
My life feels lowly.


My talk today is inspired from the link above, which is a story written by my friend. i am not ‘famzing’ here o (i cant believe i actually used that ‘word’, I remember asking someone on twitter what it meant a while back). she actually is and we have this kinda friendship……… I think.
Anyway, back to what I’m trying to say, her story is well written, humorous,and the punch lines are on point for those who actually ‘get’ it, and i just had to say something because i relate to it to an extent. I have a great job……ok, I just exaggerated it. I have a good job even though i like to take it for granted sometimes, I’m 30 and I’m very single.
I remember as a younger girl, each time i told my mum that i didn’t want to get married, or that i wanted to be a single mum, the next thing that came out of her mouth was always a stern ‘don’t be silly!!!’, followed by a 45 minute lecture from the bible, and another 30 minute lecture from life’s experiences and each time before she was halfway through, I had either a Migraine, itchy feet, a full bladder or dry cough or some sort of ailment or dilemma, reminding me why I ever brought up that subject. Anyway, common sense has taught me what and how I relay my causes to my mum.
I am a big believer in love,and I made up my mind long ago not to get married for the wrong reasons, and I still say this, no matter how long it takes, I wont get married because all my mums’ friends kids are getting married, or because all my old classmates already are, or because as ‘they’ say, I’m getting old and I’m like a flower,’ a beautiful flower that its beauty will soon fade’. That, for me, is a classic and who ever tells me that must be raving mad!!!
As I write this, I have butterflies in my tummy because I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I am looking forward to it. One thing i know is that its not worth keeping up with the Jones, because at the end of the day, only you wears your shoes and only you know where it hurts and how hard it hurts.
All I know is that I’m a smart, sexy, educated 30 year old lady, with dreams that I am still chasing, and an open mind for love and lessons, and a great sense for adventure and no time for conforming.

Posted: September 21, 2011 in Uncategorized

I ‘R’ RASCAL

Posted: July 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

It’s another day at work, luckily, unlike yesterday, my workload isn’t much. It rained a lil’ bit this morning and it’s started to rain again. I’m cold and I’m really sleepy, so it’s twitter, Facebook, Ebay and La’senza that’s got my undivided attention this morning.

Tunde, my ‘shy’ colleague feels I’m too girly and I tell him I used to be a ‘hard-cored’ tomboy but he doesn’t believe me, so I proceed with my tale.
I grew up in Ilorin, Kwara state, and in nursery and primary school, i could never be caught dead without shorts under my school uniform and i was considered ‘one of the boys’. Anyway,my school was in the estate i grew up in and i knew a lady who had FOUR fruit trees in front of her house. These ‘fruits’ commonly know as ‘almonds’ because of the seed that are broken for the soft nut inside the hard casing after the flesh has been eaten were in season, and during our break period I proceeded to sneak out of school with my buddies to go and pluck ‘fruit’!
On getting to the womans house, the boys decided to climb the tree and pluck the ‘fruits’ while they ‘ordered’ the girls to gather. Being the rascal I was, I was like “never!!!”. I climb the tree, I’m plucking and throwing down ‘fruits’ to the ‘girls’ and eating to my fill while storing ‘trophy fruit’ in the pockets of my shorts when lo and behold, at the top of the tree, I see the ripest looking ‘fruit’.
I abandon all around me and set off on my new mission.
I get to my destination, I grab my prize, I look at my prize, I scream, then I let go of the branches. As my butt hits the ground, I am shaking, laughing and crying at the same time.

What I thought was my prized ‘fruit,’ was the head of an Amaga Lizard!!!

Traffic lights

Posted: July 7, 2011 in Short stories

“Will someone please just buy all these oranges so I can go home?”, She thought to herself for the umpteenth time. Sun shining, cars glistening, while the hot tar scorched the soles of her feet through the holes in her slippers, big enough to actually stick her fist through.
The light had just turned red and she knew she had time, and as she walked down the aisle of both sleek and battered cars, she clenched her teeth, straightened her shoulders, and tightened her grip on the tray of ripe, peeled oranges.
The shiny cars caught her fancy, but she knew better than to touch the gleaming beasts, but most times, she succumbed to her lust, and touched their rear when she thought it would go unnoticed.
“See these fine, fine children”, she thought to herself, as her heart skipped a bit, and she averted her eyes, but she had a good memory of the beautiful clothes, and the pretty hair baubles that she saw through the window, and without thinking, her skinny, dirty fingers reached underneath the rag that balanced the tray on her head, and as she rubbed her brown, uneven locks of hair, she wished they were long, soft and black.
“How much are your oranges?”, and quickly she awoke from her trance like state and headed in direction of the gruff voice.
“Its fifty Naira sir”, she replied, and as she walked away, money in hand, and peace at heart, she swore she would never marry a man like that, for his eyes were red, and his teeth tobacco stained and she hated the smell from his banged up taxi.
“See this beautiful woman”, She thought and she stared, as she willed the lady to look at her back, and whisk her away in her shiny black car, to a world of laughter and pretty clothes, of food and toys, and shiny shoes too.
“Get off the road you silly child!!!”, as the shrill voice startles her back to earth, she sees the lights have turned to yellow. And as she makes her way out of the maze of cars and the blaring of horns, her heart beats faster and her breath, shallow.
As she sits on the curb, tray of oranges on her skinny laps, the frenzy of the traffic amazes her, but deep down she knows how poor she is, and as her ten year old mind thinks of all the good she would do if she had all the money in the world, she shuts her eyes and falls asleep

J.Doe

Posted: March 9, 2011 in Uncategorized

Its a Wednesday, the 9th of March, 2011 and the time is 9.45 am. I’m in a cab rushing off to Lekki to meet up a makeup appointment (I’m also a makeup artist amongst other things and a pretty good one to!) I’m already on Third Mainland bridge and I realize there is traffic. ”Seriously!?”, ”by this time?” And I just guess that there must be an accident somewhere further down the road.
Four cars ahead, I see a police van parked at the shoulder of the road, and cars trying to slip through the bottle-neck the police men have created and I’m wondering why they can’t park well, or get down from the back of the van where they are obviously just ‘gisting’ and direct the cars to ease traffic .
Trust me, there I am, straining my eyes to see the ‘accident’ but there is no accident. Rather, I see the dead body of a half naked man, with parts of his body chopped off, and unfortunately for my curiosity and I, its too late to take back the sight!
For Gods sake, WHY?!
I’m gagging and have goose bumps on my arm the size of golf balls! And I’m thinking………”Who is he?……”does he have kids”……..”Where was he going to or coming from?”…….”Hey! Wait a minute, were people not driving when the body was dropped?…….”Na wa o”……..” God, save me o”…..
The honest truth is that it scared me, and I’m still scared. And according to the taxi driver, he had seen quite a number of corpses on the same bridge over the years.
All I know is that, I have been scarred and I hope things change for the better in this country, because I can imagine the number of innocent children who must have passed and seen it, or the families of the unknown victims.

10,000 UMBRELLAS

Posted: March 5, 2011 in Uncategorized

Here is an umbrella,
For you, you and you.
From the torrent of tears
That all the girls have wept.
From her, and her,
And yes, me too.

Here is an umbrella,
For you, you and you.
From the scorching gaze
That those girls pour on you.
From her, and her,
And yes, me too.

Here is an umbrella,
For you, you and you.
From the words of despair
That are spoken because they hurt.
From her, and her,
And yes, me too.

Here is an umbrella,
For you, you and you.
To cover your shame
From all the girls you hurt.
For her, and her,
And yes, me too.

Hello world!

Posted: March 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

Welcome to the world of what goes on in my head. Here, you will find an array of short stories, poetry, and some adventures I have had. Also, its a channel to voice out my thoughts, ideas and my opinion on general matters.
By the way, my name is Tintin!