Somewhere in Nigeria, a young dude clad in a starched and well ironed gini was seated in the living room with his entire buttocks swallowed up by the comfy sofa. Chilled expensive drinks and some spiced meaty mass were on the table before him while the theatre blasts at a moderate decibel. The AC was blowing almost as though it was winter in Moscow. He seemed to be enjoying himself, reminiscing on the passing year. A thought coursed through his mind: The year has been great, and that is a fact. Appreciating the individuals that made it so is just apt.
Don’t mind that narrator, Utopia is where he belongs. He might have exaggerated a tad, it doesn’t mean he has really blown it out of proportion that much. [scratches head]
Where do we begin? Okay, I think I know now. This is gon’ be a real freestyle all the way down. Hop in let’s have a long ride. Next stop. . . downtown.
Immeasurable thanks to the gracious God for this privilege I have to be alive, healthy, and of sound mind. An elaboration of these words is worthy of another piece entirely, but I know “they” won’t read it. You know them, right? He’s the first friend to whom I must pay my dues and acknowledge. Yaweh doesn’t drink wine, don lace, wear perfume. . . or ride a car I would’ve gone out of my way to get Him all.
I could remember some ten months ago when it seemed something devilish was pouring sand-sand for my garri with alacrity, resulting to the mobilisation palaver and some other related issues. At the end, the near eluding experience came around and now I’m at my PPA of life, satisfied and in fact, upgraded. Village witches relegated. Again, thank you gracious God.
To my families, mérci très bien merged with mérci beaucoup are not enough to appreciate you. Family is indeed one of the best in one’s life; always around even in situations where others would turn around and outrun Usain bolt. You’re much loved and appreciated.
Now I advance to my other friends — I mean the non-spirits; the ones that use smart phones, wear cloths, perfumes, bla-bla and bla. I would’ve loved to name them one after another but that is impossible. Okay, it’s not impossible, but my laziness won’t allow me see the entire dozens through. Please, if I don’t spell out some names don’t be annoyed. Know it that you made your part in a way or another. Don’t deal with me personally.
Don’t DO NOT take after the bad belles in some nollywood movies that will do someone serious bad things for lilliputian reasons (God will judge). Please, omodé kìí mo èko je kó má ráa l’ówó. The meaning? It means er, em. . . a child will always be a child and thus, er. . . must be forgiven. I know @victoroladosu can interpret that better. #Payback
In fact I’ll start with @victoroladosu. He’s very cool. Cool-headed, cool-thinking, cool-speaking (phòné, pronounced as /fon-eh/, po gan!), cool-pissing, cool-eating [rolling my eyes]. . . cool everything. Dear reader please feel free to interpret the -everything as you deem fit. NYSC scattered us like dudes chased by egbére (african bushbaby/galago), all scramming for different directions, but we’re still one all the same. He’s a brain behind the conception of Señor Joe’s blog. It’s been a wonderful year with you. . . from across thousand miles. May you never run out of fishes to fry. Okay, let him explain that too.
There’s this writer I’ve known for at least five years now, but I actually met the real him — not corporal — around two years ago. He’s someone I’ll call Mr capable, and a blend of many things. Good things. “Leke Alder uses metaphors, Olakunle Soriyan uses adjectives. . .” he once said, and now I’ll complete the sentence for him, “. . .Adefiranye ‘Razaq uses thick qualifiers”. I had blended “metaphors” and “adjectives” but the “phoratives” I got means nothing. Dunno what Joe uses, but
metaphors camphors sound more like it. Thanks. You inspire and motivate me @abdulrazarc.
I know one lovely, dark, beautiful, em. . . erm, sweet lady. She’s sweet even her name reminds me of butter in a mysterious way. Very mysterious! I decided to stop at four adjectives so I won’t implicate myself and put a target on my forehead for crushing, potential, and wannabe
boyfriends fiancés to aim at and shoot [looks around for sniper]. True, the Lord is my shepherd, but I should be careful. She’s a blogger and an agony aunt (even though she’s yet to agree on that), hence, my choice of “fiancé” over “boyfriend”. Agony aunts can be really. . . *sneezes*. . . never mind. She has been wonderful to me in many ways she’s even oblivious of, in so many ways I won’t say. I love. . . (hold on, wait for it). . . you Jemima. I love you with the love of Christ. Thanks for 2013. Let’s do it again.
Another special thank you goes to Big John, SantaJohn, Papa Tolulope. . . He’s just one man, but more than three in one. I’d earlier thought a deployment to a state that is just thirty naira by bike and fifteen naira by bus to hell would make him less friendly, more distant or incommunicado-loving, but Sokoto and its heat are still trying, adjusting sòkòtò (trouser), doomed to fail on that I’ll bet. Whenever I see him, hear and read from him, words like philosophy, deep thinking, great mind, small-head-full-brain, come to mind. Thanks for the push, the encouragement and the support.
[Clears throat] I want to sing. I’d like to sing ‘cuz the owner of this space likes to sing. A lot. By singing I mean godly songs, not the c’mon-grab-her-bum or drag-her-to-the-inner-room kinda songs. However. . . hmmmn okay, no howevers. This tall handsome friend has so many “correkt” female friends; our major source of “misunderstanding”, but I’m trusting God he’ll change come 2014. Shebi? Right. I appreciate you @ezehmayor, from undergraduate days till date you’ve been a good brother and friend.
I’ll take these two fine persons together; @mohziz007 and @éspeciale. They’re both fair and tush, if there’s a word like that. The former is super-cool, easy going and again, handsome. Interested parties can take note. The latter, beautiful and equally lovable (hopefully I won’t nominate myself for trouble somehow on this one). Interested parties should go away and pick beans, her handle isn’t even correct. I made sure of that. One thing I’ll use this opportunity to ask her is this. . . y’all should relax, I’m not stylishly asking her out. Olateju Tosin please, the name is Señor Joe, not Senior Joe. Thanks for anticipated cooperation. . . and happy birthday plus two days. These two put lots of smiles on my face this year and I’m saying a big thank you for that.
Another batch of appreciation goes to @toromaday1, @hardeohlar and @ollyfountain; my brothers from other mothers. Also Tenifayo, Prettybetty, and @taijudia with the sobriquet “TinTin”; sisters from other misters. About ma’am TinTin, the name is actually a misnomer ‘cuz to
me all, she’s nothing close to tiny. When you need unadulterated trouble go knock on her door. Okay, I’ll take my leave now before it’s too late [picks race]. Thank you much plenty, Jah bless y’all.
Orientation camp in Asaya also led me to some important people, two of which proved extra-ordinary. Much gracias to @DerickFT, my funny and sharp pal, and to @angelfrecklesz, the cute cum smart lady. I can’t say for all Edo people, but this lady seriously no dey carry last. Obrigado.
Oh, my charming Omonlumhen Rosemary Rita, how can I forget you? Meeting you was one of the good things that happened to me this year. Ù rú èsé. May Osanobua bless you. Similar to her is Orogbangba Sanmi; the one who took me in when shelter metamorphosed into luxury. To NCCF Mopamuro, thank you for making me a better me.
I should go on to be fair to all, but I just can’t. The list is endless!
To my other friends not mentioned, including Mopa corpers, especially the ones that are not cantankerous, I’m grateful. Wishing all the male corps members a Rufus-less service year. Morganalisers: fake friends appearing real (Origin: Morgana; Merlin. Many thanks to Big John on this one) are also appreciated. May God touch your hearts ASAP.
To readers and followers of Señor Joe’s blog, a very massive thank you goes to you. Goodness and mercy
shall must follow you. Writing my rants would appear rubbishy (is that word even correct?) if not for your readership. To non-readers and nah-I-don’t-read-blogs individuals, what can I say? I would’ve said thanks but there’s no point doing that, they won’t read anyway.
This seems like a good time to allow that narrator bring more glasses so we can do justice to the expensive wines. I’ll suggest he brings one for himself too. Wotchu think?
A toast to a wonderful 2014:
Here’s health to those I love, and wealth to those who love me. May the fountain of friendship never dry, nor the wings of love lose a feather. May our dreams come truer than anticipation.
Methinks I know nice toasts, but now I cannot remember them. Please, fill your glass to anything and bless yourself. I’ll drink to it.
To greater achievements.