I was too lost to realize what it was that Carolina muffled before she angrily banged the door and left the room. I was infact pitted in a state of quandary; unable to savor myself from this state of quagmire. I never imagined that the words that serenaded my vocal cavity were harsh and cruel as she made them seem. If I had envisaged that the perfect night prayers that culminated our numerous mouth biting and body clipping activities would then transmute to this heart jingling scenario I would have rejected this “soo easily given apple” without much wrestling thought even if it was presented without cloth.
I lay down on my bed, staring deep into the white painted ceiling of my room and orally choreographing to James Blunt’s musical masterpiece, “goodbye my lover” “ Did I disappoint you or let you down? Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown? Cause I saw the end before we began…” As I sang along to these poetical words that rhythmically jingled from my DVD player, my heart was clipped with a climaxing feeling; a feeling too daunting to explain. I saw myself netted between piles of rigged muscles that galvanized all through my body. I felt rejuvenated yet viscid by lust; like I had lost the effectiveness of my brain. I was doused in an uncontrollable momentum that tinkered only but one thought “Carolina”.
She is the serenade of glowing aesthetics; a paradigm of what it is that stands close to the famous Monalisa portrait. Chocolate in colour her body glistens; with a gloomy hair that cascades down to her ass region and a shape that can spur any man to speak in tongues. Carolina is simply a definition of what I call “aesthetically distinctive and attractive,” an epitome of LUST.
I pranced between my thought, ruminating about the many events that revolved around our knowing each other: how the eclipsing part of her body had caught the attention of my body but ignoring the service of my brain, how I had refused to attend evening mass that day just because my eyes was in deer need of the galore that clipped between her body, how I eventually maned up and spoke to her only for her to keep dulling my spirit and repeating these words, “we will talk on phone”…a word that never made sense to me until today.As I lay stiff, rattled by the flauctuative emotional embodiment that clipped between my mind eyes unresolved, suddenly, I heard my phone ringing. I checked to see who it was but the caller was unknown to me, I quikly clicked the answer button and clipped the phone to the frontal part of my ear. “Hello am I speaking to John?” a tiny sweet sounding voice inquired. “Yes, this is John, and who am I speaking to?” I replied inquiring further… “ohh swiri its Caro” she muttered in a very sonorous tone. “Carolina you mean? Yes your Carolina, I hope you are home because I am currently heading to your house to see you, yes am home,” said I, and then faded was her voice. I was startled, unable to decipher why a girl who barely knew me would use such an emotional provoking word to address me. I was even more confused by the fact that she addressed herself as my Carolina. What was more bewildering was her decision to come to my house…I remember telling her that I reside at “BADDEST BOYS ESTATE” at “AGWALAMBU” but that was along time ago, and even the rumpled manner of her expression seemed like she wasn't interested in where I live because she would never come. I just couldn't understand the vibration to these intricacies that climaxed my life at this moment. “This is devils work,” this thought bellowed in my morrow… “I will surely overcome this” I said within me stamping my legs to the ground as I stood from my bed. I immediately put in place all the nitty-gritty that would eventually transform my room into a romantic atmosphere – making it impossible for Carolina not to be impressed. Forty five minutes after I got the mind boggling call, I heard a knock on my door. I rushed swiftly to welcome who it was that required my consent to saunter into my room. As I unlocked my door, what I saw ravished me; not for food, but for the unsayable. Carolina wore a conspicuous white silk shirt that was clipped to her body and bared almost
all the gigantic frontal embodiment that makes her different from a man. Her black skirt that was almost the size of her undies crisply auctioned her glistening fresh legs to the refreshment of my eyes. “Hello swiri” she sputtered as she rapped her hands between my neck and clipping her lip to the left side of my check…I was absolutely clueless on how to pace
this scenario that engulfed me. “I didn’t know u knew where I live?” I muttered as I ushered her into my house. She stirred piercingly into my eyes like she was expecting me to say something and was disappointed by my inability to function within the jurisdiction of her thought… before she then gave a quick riposte “Yes, I saw you around here some days back when I was on my way to IYA BASIRA’S EATRY. I was not at all concerned about what she said or how she said it; my mountain was to discern what to do with this daughter of Eve. “What can I offer you Carolina?” I asked, as I stirred lustfully… “hmmmmmm” she exhaled, lying comfortably on my bed like we have known each other forever and ventilating those parts that mama had warned me never to see. “swiri I don’t feel like taking anything, I just came to see you.” Again, again and again***********my problems compounded. I was clueless to the activities that played out when ever one is graced with a visitor that just get satisfied by seeing them. As a 100 level student, I was only used to having visitors who came to my house because they were hungry; this situation was entirely different for me. I felt a strong conviction in me that she simply wanted what I wanted. “Have you thought about what I told you the last time we met?” I asked as I sat close to where she lay…she gave no retort to my question, but the way at which she looked at me seemed like she attested to what I said and those I was unable to muster. I was terrified by me, but my terrification* for the unknowable trepidated me more. She lay stiff unmoved as my hands toured the left side of her hands moving swiftly and uncontrollable into her neck region. I was entirely unaware of what I did and how I did it (you go believe this lie? Fattest lie ever!). I expected an angst-ridden reaction, but Carolina’s tunic response to my trespassing hands amazed me: “mhmh mhmh…” We dingled*on the well sized paillasse cornered in the right side of my room like our satisfaction depend on how gymnastically our body was paced. The feeling was wee, but
the impact was as if to say we had been on this all day long. My hands moved beyond, heading towards the under as my middle clitched* rapidly, fearing, but yet daring… “Swiri” she whispered as she stiffed my trespassing hands. “I don’t have a phone anymore; please can you buy me a SAMSONG GALAXY phone? It’s just SEVENTY THOUSAND NAIRA ONLY.” I was traded for a planet of no return; the amount she called immediately gave me goose bumps. Where would I get this money from? I was unable to reconcile the fact that I only had FIVE THOUSAND NAIRA in my bank account, and here was I with a girl whose singular demand
surmounted the entire budget of my first and second semester. When i heard some four hundred level students eulogizing on there many ANGWALAMGBU forays and how easy it was for them to change girls weekly, i never envisaged that there was a monetary underpinning that
kept their love moving. " ehmmmmmmm...i swear i dont have that kind of money now, infact, to be sincere with you it is only FIVE THOUSAND NAIARA I HAVE IN MY ACCOUNT." I said stammeringly as i sat face down armed for the real deal...it was months later i realised that i shot myself to the leg the moment i was sincere about my financial state...RULE
NUMBER: DON'T EVER BE SINCERE TO AN ANGWALAMGBU GIRL. " Idiot, you dey crase? you come my body come do charity?" She hollered, pushing me off her body with my head hitting the wall. As i sat face up gazing confused at her and romancing my swollen head, i was lost on
how to quell this sudden transition. " You wan chop meat you no get money," her last words before she exited my room, banging my door behind her."...I saw the end before we began..." James Blunt said it all; i should have known, i should have read the writing on the wall. Though i was abreast with the popular saying "nothing goes for nothing," yet i was foolish to assume that the glittering gold only came to me because i glittered . And on my trouble lingered+++++++++++++++++++to be continued...

Though the rays of the sun could be dim, bland and soulless when there seem to be a longing eeriness for its heat.
The moon can often be ignorant of its consequential flauntuativeness* in defining the pace that frames our everyday life.
But the golden touch of the want and longing for a heart seemingly far from our distant reach would never quiver in river
till our heart stands...
While I stood at the balcony of the faculty staring fixed at what seemed to me like a moving gold, it was difficult for me to control the thoughts that shimmered in my mind eyes. If had seen any beauty soo gloriously extravagant in depiction like this it would have been in my dream. Her movement was filled with sundry aptness that was coloured all through her body. She had in her company a form of sliced gait and a compressed gusto that was often very difficult to explain. As she ambled past the sly glancing of my eyes, my torso felt heavy; it felt like i was being suffocated with a pillow and my protesting resistance was not physical enough to set me free. My chest kept jingling in strings of rhythmic echoes like I had joggled off all my strength and i needed a deep rest to give me back my oral breath. What I felt that day was a mixture of an unalloyed longing for something crispy in touch but calcifying into a torpid feeling. I feared that if I did nothing towards the furtherance of this feeling the story would end like the previous one; and I would only end up making my friends feel right about my fragileness* and mechanical ability to only tell stories of girls I saw but never met; how I observed their shining dark hair, their glittering chocolate skin and their well structured body that stole my heart while I was on my way back from school. “Bros, you talk to her?” Ahmed would ask in sotto voce…and when it becomes obvious that my reply is without its usual theatrical exhibition of the word ‘NO’ he would holler “JU GUY” with his face scowled and full of disappointment. I knew inside of me that today was the day to script my story all by myself. There was that longing to make things right, to walk into BADDEST BOYS ESTATE” in AGWANLAMBU with spiritful ebullience splashed through my face and victory words carved from my mouth, and words that complements victory splattered through my ears with Ahmed and my friends listening with keen interest and using names they only used to describe Tayo’s chyking prowess for me: “baddest guy ever!” While I reeled my story in chronological order. This was the kind of day I dreamt of; a day when I will not just sit mum listening to Tayo tell us about his nagging girl friend Sabiana, how she annoyed him for always asking him to take her to “IYA BASIRA” before she let him in. “Who does that girl think she is? infact, she is a baskard*!” He would yell at interval whenever he read the chapters of his book of lamentation. I wanted to be the all knowing guy. The guy who had the tacticality* to counter every possible move of the opposite sex; I wanted to be that guy whose rhetorical touch left the ladies clueless…The fair tall cute guy who had no money in his pocket but won the heart of AGWANLAMBU girls. Soo drenched by this desire I had on countless occasion’s googled words that might give me suitable search results to transmogrify me into that guy I soo desperately wanted to be: “HOW CAN A BROKE GUY WIN A LADIES HEART” I would sometimes type on my google search bar hoping to get thought provoking results but would be disappointed by very uninspiring words filtered from comments posted on some online forums. My quest to be that ladies guy didn’t just end with online googling, I also did put in a great part of my spare time to reading some of the very best books on relationship, love and dating; some of which are: Cupid code: The Psychology of Relationships, Seduction, Marriage & Love by William J Starkey and The 5 Love Languages: The secret to Love That Lasts by Gary Chapman. These books and many of its ilks that I read disenchanted me for its inability to flicker in me that gruesomely charming young fellow that only required three sentences to flatten the heart of any beautiful girl. I had resolved never to try any of the relationship books again after I almost received a slap from a girl in Faculty of Arts cafeteria after I had tried to use one of William j starkey’s techniques on her: “what is your own joh! I said I am not interested, abi you no dey understand English?” She angrily thundered while I stared confused hoping that the ground would sink me from this world filled with cruelty. But my penchant and love for this kind of books wouldn’t let me be. I moved from the roughly plastered wall shelled with yellow paint to the rails that nestled through the corridors of Lecture room 14 and 15. For the first time since I was admitted to study English and Literary studies in Nasarawa state university, keffi. I was capped with the structural outlook of faculty of Art: the white painted ceiling crimped with cobwebs lined in different shapes; the oval like shaped epicentre of the faculty clustered with students who were waiting for lecturers that they knew would never come; the many talking students gesticulating about their many unknown forays to eyes that gazed and longed for more. I was with lack of that confidence, that shimmering aura that made Tayo stand out from other humanizers. As I stood with my hands rested on the rail I watched, irked by the many masculine hands that clipped her waist line like they owned her. I wanted to have the benefit other guys who knew her had, I wanted to be the guy who had unrestricted access to her; the guy who would call her on phone and have her appear after five minute. I wanted to have the privilege of looking strenuously into her clipped lips and tell her how different God has fashioned my lips to clip between it. I wanted to feel the apple like structure that rested on her chest and tell her how supple and elastic they felt. I wanted to hold her dangling back side and tell her how perfect it was. As i watched her walk past the exit door close to the lecture theater, I felt a strong urge to saunter swiftly and tell her how I felt, but `the possibility and consciousness of what could be triggered left me the admirer who saw the one he loved but never has the confidence to tell her ...and on my agony worsened********* It was on that Wednesday twilight, that day the whole world clambered to rescue me from the timid grips of myself. I had gotten all the details needed from Tayo and Ahmed on what to do and what not to do. “No go escort that babe for back reach her house come enter this compound; I swear na outside you go sleep!” Ahmed busted, twisting his index finger and wobbling his head to show me how staid he held his words. For me, I understood innately that this journey just had one beeline, and it was for me to either walk that part or never come back. And I was ready to be gifted with a slap if that will be enough to tell her how desperately I needed her love. I stood conscious, waiting for the apple that caught my eyes to cross my part as my eyes veered through the many clustered shops in AGWALAMBGU; I was relished by the nightly density that coloured her street. Generator sets of different squawking sounds joggling power to bulbs of varying colours...smoke sprinkled from fire coordinated by mei soya for their sticked meat. Flowering smell evaporated the street, clusters of students covered in various crannies of the road; some walking lone with bags strapped to their back and books clipped to their hands, others telling the world how they couldn’t do without each other as they clutched their hands between their waists swaying their body in a compressed pace. It was this time of the day that one saw all the ANGWALAMBU girls as they truly are. The girl who you would address as “SISTER” after JCCF programs would suddenly transmute to that sweet sumptuous girl on bomb short or revealing frock who stood waiting for a cyclist to take her to MIKI SUIT. The girl whose response would be “get behind me Satan" or “bless you! Your soul can still be saved” when you approach her after church service to tell her how deeply you wanted her love would be the one perambulating the road with her midriff in exhibition for that guy who is man enough to say hello.
I was lucky not to have waited too long before she appeared from the hill like road, descending majestically with an uncluttered uncomplicatedness soo limpidly written on her face. Her beauty was unalterable but flashed in a sophisticated manner that was lewd. Her chenille like gown was too short that my resolutive* presumption gave me the insinuation that she must have forgotten to tie her rapper while she left her room. Her hair dark and properly stringed to give her that lush decency that blinked around her. I stood stiffened waiting for the perfect timing i knew would never come. She breezed past me not even noticing my preying eye, and halted her movement like she knew what ran in my mind and was inviting me to come. Then i walked up to her laddered with the fear of the unknown and praying for that God giving grace to guide me through this daunting quest.”Hello! Good evening. i am John, i...” I had barely finished my introductory salutation when she turned to another direction not even looking at my face, as if she was trying to avoid a stenchy* mucus coloured through face. There was no giving in to any ounce of rejection. Tayo told me categorically to keep trying even when she seems uninterested. “Give me a chance now, i truly care about you!” I begged as she walked face down to the suya joint across the main road. It was too late when i realised that i had broken one of the rules Tayo read out to me while he prepared me for this day: NEVER EXPRESS ANY FORM OF EMOTIONAL WEAKNESS TO AN ANGWALAMBGU GIRL IF YOU ARE YET TO OWN HER.
I didn’t know what to do next; i stood still to the embarrassed eyes that observed my theatrical stupidity. As i rummaged ways to lift my fallen ego from the hole i abandoned it to, i felt a slight tap on my back, as i turned the bewildering words that i heard flushed my agony into joy. “Please, can i get 1500 from you; i didn’t know i left my money in my room while i was coming out.” She said in her sweet sounding voice. I quickly dipped my right hands into my backside pocket with rushed velocity and urgency and then handed her the 2000 naira i borrowed from Ahmed to buy some food stuff. “I will pay you back, no you don’t have to...Thanks dear.” She muttered...i followed behind as she walked into the zinc like suya joint to collect her already nyloned* suya. I stood waiting to get that parting hug that described how frustrating her night would have been if i was not there to help out; but, what i got was a hand wave; a wave that came forced. My world crashed; my eyes heavy with tears of abandonment. She had played me for the fool i was...this is what i would later call the ANGWALAMBGU MYTOMYCIN FOR BLINDED GUYS.I watched as she turned back and was heading towards my direction like a mother who felt guilty for the misdemeanors of her teenage son and was willing to help him stand again. “Let me give you my number: 07666666776778.” She chorused as i tapped my hands quickly against the soft surface of my NOKIA TOUCHLIGHT PHONE making sure i didn’t miss any number. “You should at least tell me your name,” i said as she turned to leave. “Don’t worry we will talk on phone...where do you even live? BADDEST BOYS ESTATE...ok i have taken note...” and gone she was...As i got home that day i called the number she gave me but she wouldn’t pick...i called after two hours but she wouldn’t pick ...i kept calling her line throughout that night hoping that the stars would be merciful to shine in my direction...but the tides of the world made it conspicuous that the part i was headed brought nothing but doom...
As i sat down on my bed with a pen between my index finger and thump and my diary placed on my lap, reminiscing what i had gone through to eventually have Carolina act like my own and yet still miss out from the real deal it pained me. I was shaded with the reality that the initial lines of my poem were without that expression that made lucid the fervour of a young university student who took a blind turn and yet didn’t know how to make it right:
... Till our heart stands milder
That lame man called love
Whose audacious bronze of care gives pain
That flippant sly enemy of men who comes innocent but leaves you ruthlessly ruined by its grips
That flipping flag of hope ringed with sordid lubricious aura
To hell i will send you
And that hell i must go with you....to be continued

Tayo, was that sort of guy that told watery stories of things he never saw and people he never met. He was no doubt the cutest among my friends, and all the ladies that crossed his part never remained the same; except for a few. He has that charming brown eye, that sexy fleshy lip that required the extracurricular lips service of beautiful ladies to make it less tempting. Tayo, was everything a LUSTFUL lady dreamt of: tall, fair, handsome, muscular body and a well patched moustache nestled through his face. He has that unshattering confidence, that unblinking expression of a man who owned the world and had it cringed between his palms. He would take on every opportunity he has to tell us how he could get any girl he wanted in ANGWALAMGBU. He would go as far as telling us about the things he did when nobody looked; how he ran Muna’s body and made her speak in Japanese tongue; how Titi would call him every night and tell him how nostalgic she felt without the warmth of his touch. Tayo’s flair to get any lady he wanted had no boundary...One Friday night after he had a heated quarrel with his girl friend Sabiana, he came back home his face scowled with rage and told us he felt like visiting the new girl who just moved into one of the rooms in our lodge two days back; and when we dared him ,we watched, our eyes grimed with jealousy and uncertainty as he walked into her room and came out after two hours with his body dripping of perspiration and our mouth singing the tune of fulfilment: “BADDEST GUY EVER LIVETH!”
Tayo was good at many things but his proclivity to tell lies was epic; no wonder he always had his ways with the ladies. Two weeks into our friendship, he came back from school one Monday afternoon with a bottle of red label between his hands and told us to celebrate with him because his dad who he claims is the richest man in Osun state just bought a private jet. I didn’t know how to take this lie, but i was helpless to this reality and if the words that left my mouth that day were nothing other than the complimenting solidarity he expected from me, hell would have been let loose: “enemy of progress na so una go just dey jealous person wey pass una,” he would bust anytime i told him his stories were unbelievable. I had no option but to join in his praise singing, “ OMO BABA OLOWO” we hailed as he nodded his head, his hands coiled around the un opened bottle of Red Label we never drank. I found it difficult to decipher why one whose father had all the money to spend on a private jet could not afford him the best private university in Nigeria. It felt right to lie about certain things; but PRIVATE JET? Ah! Ah! That one is too much now! Unfortunately for Tayo his scripted world crashed after his most trusted allay Emmanuel who was the verification button of his lie got fed up with tayo’s attitude. Emmanuel, who attended the same secondary school with Tayo knew him up down and centre; so when he found it too compressing to be allied with someone whose father could barely afford a tricycle; someone who he knew would never compensate him for the many times he sold his integrity, he broke loose when the opportunity presented itself. Tayo had gone to visit Emmanuel in his house, and coincidentally not knowing that they were conducting their groaning service, barged into his room without knocking only to see them pants down making sounds that needed a computer software assembled in Eggon language before it can be deciphered. Who would have expected that Tayo would go to Manila’s house the next day and beg for his own share; well, that was what he did. He came back that day with the pitch of his voice almost shattering my door: “meeen i chop am...i chop that forbidden meat,” he said gesturing his body like an Igbo man who just won 50 million naira lottery. “Chop wetin?” i asked my ears eager for what seemed like good news. Tayo had barely finished telling us how he dribbled the bird like maradona and climbed the Sisyphean Mountain, when we heard a bellow coming from the direction of the gate: “I swear i must expose your papa today, where that mechanic pikin dey? You think say you fit back stab me go free? Oya tell them now, tell them say na my papa borrow your papa money wey you take come this school.....” Emmanuel roared, our eyes gripped with surgical amazement...Emmanuel livid that the guy he called his friend had eaten from his forbidden fruit. It was difficult for us to see the son of the richest man in Osun state suddenly flattened miraculously into the son of a mechanic. Emmanuel spilled Tayo’s sin making sure he didn’t leave any details. He told us how Tayo had lied to everyone in their secondary school that his father was a car dealer, and that they didn’t use one car in two month. He told us how he denied his father and announced to all the students in his dormitory that the man who came to visit him with a rickety tortoise car was not his father but their gateman who came only because everybody in his house had travelled to London. For days Tayo’s story lingered in our mouth; the story of the young man from Osun state whose father couldn’t even pay his school fees, who fictionally aimed for the best in his imagination. But, days were not how the other people in our lodge that were of the opposite sex took it. For weeks they would ring themselves together, clap their hands and hit their legs about the many stories Tayo had told them when he visited their room: “he even told me his grandfather is related to Tinubu’s grandfather....ehehhe! “Some would chorus to spice and lace the tragedy of the FRESHEST KID, while others would hum as if to say they just heard the story for the first time. Amarachi, the short beautiful perfect girl in our lodge who Tayo broke her heart after two hours took it upon her to tell Tayo’s story in a sort of way that i felt was quite aesthetic: “heeeee! Tayo self, una know wetin him do?” She would ask and answer even before her audience understood what she was saying.this period was the most difficult time in the life of Tayo in ANGWALAMGBU. But as weeks passed his story became less entertain.
Days after Carolina unleashed her mayhem on me and left my head ruthlessly swollen, Tayo who was aware of the full details of my predicament invited me to go with him to a new church he was recently invited to. He claimed that my problems were spiritual and i needed a powerful man of God like PASTOR THUNDER to release me from my captivity. As we got to the building of CHURCH FOR ALL FIRE FORE FIRE INTERNATIONAL MINISTRY, that wee hours of that dewy Sunday morning, i was disappointed by the unpaintedness* of the church, the damp litterdness of its compound. It was without that firedness and lush spirit that enveloped her ushers.