Diary of a Jobless Graduate

From fry pan to fire, welcome to Omoabiku zone. I'm the living martyr of the weirdoes’ conscience. I have a knack of sweeping my tongue just about anywhere, and anything at my reach. As an educated paiko I can be excuse if my principles eventually lapses, cause that’s what Nigeria situation can do to ones psyche. I recently took up resident in Yaba’s psychiatric Hospital trying to rehabilitate my Skewed perspectives. So I hope you will understand my plight and go easy on my pule and whines.

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Watching a popular Etisalat’s ad on TV, which I am sure most of you are familiar with its fanciful lures, opens a stark departure from that of an unemployed graduate’s daily reality. Am talking about the one a good looking young chap, walk into a room with a loosen tie, apparently, returning back from his place of work.
He flash at you an exhausted smile and says “is great to be back home”, he crashed his ass on a nice looking couch and spread open his arms in accomplished gesture “this is my crib”, and then stand up to shove at you a small portrait “this is my baby girl” before nko, no money, no honey. In a short while, comes a honking horn coming from the waiting car of his “these are my guys”, ready to ferry him away to a busy club where he announce “this is my hood where I catch up with my peeps” before nko, no money, no friends. And to cap it all, he walks into his office smart in suit and displays stunts enough to make turn you green of the colour of etisalat itself.
The Ad didn’t just end like that, after all it was meant to inspire the young men of this nation that “you can” which translate that as a young man facing the harsh reality out there, you can also accomplish such lifestyle, good! But when you turn off your TV, gently lock the worn-out door of your (dark cell) one room apartment like mine and step out to the awry reality outside, you’ll then wonder if that Ad was shot in the Miami or if its was intended to make mockery of you.

concluding part on this blog.
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