Why did the chicken cross the road?

Phew! I am so spent right now just trying to clear the cobwebs off my blog! To say it’s been a while since I dropped a post here would be a gross understatement! But I’m here now with a not so serious post on the somewhat ubiquitous question/riddle; “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

I’m afraid though, I had my Nigerian readership more in mind when I put it together. I hope other nationals can distill a thing or two off it and share in the fun as well. Do read on.

SIMPLE QUESTION: “Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?”

DONALD TRUMP

I don’t care why the chicken crossed the road. But we must ensure that chickens from sh*thole countries are stopped from entering America. In fact we will review our policy on immigrant chickens especially as we seek to secure America against terrorists.

CNN

According to our sources, the chicken is a close associate of President Trump and it is believed to have played a major role in leaking state intelligence to Russia before the last US Presidential elections.

ROBERT MUGABE

The white man came up with such a thing as Zebra Crossing on our roads because the Zebra is predominantly an African animal species. Now this chicken which is a favourite on their menu, crossing the road, is actually their way of expressing white supremacy! Yes! A chicken crossing the road, trampling on as it were, the zebra, the way Europe and America has trampled on us for so long. But it is alright. That is why I eat chicken every day. If it likes let it cross the seven great rivers of Africa, I will consume it, flesh, bones and all! Africa is for Africans!

GOODLUCK JONATHAN:
Well, I am quite clueless as to why the chicken crossed the road. However this chicken reminds me of myself because people think I chickened out in the 2015 presidential elections by not using my incumbent powers to ensure I won the election. But you see, the fact is my political ambition is not worth the blood of one Nigerian chicken. So if my second term ambition would have led to bloodshed among Nigerian chickens, my apparent chickening out prevented that. Now I will be remembered as the president who ensured Nigerian chickens can cross roads without fear for their lives. Also, this chicken like me, had no shoes as it crossed the road. Who knows what the chicken will be in the future?

LAI MOHAMMED

The chicken we saw crossing the road is a pure manifestation of the failure of the past PDP led administration. Just like they failed to construct the second Niger bridge, they also failed to construct chicken ways so now the chicken has no other option but to cross the road. However in line with the campaign promises of President Buhari, all chickens will soon have their own roads where they will be free to cross as they like.

PRESIDENT BUHARI

The chicken crossed the road bekwas of this gwament’s commitment to securing the lipes and froferty of all Nigerians because I am por ebrybody and  por nobody. But the chicken has no place in politics because its place is in the cooking fot of the woman in the other room.

AISHA BUHARI

Why won’t the chicken cross the road now that the Lion King is back? It must flee for its life, along with the jackals who wanted the throne for themselves when the Lion king was away from his kingdom.

PATIENCE JONATHAN
I knows why the chicken is cross the road. Him is one of those person that will rather kill themself instead of commit suicide. So e want to kill himself by letting a motor car jam it as it crossing the road. But it is a good thing because only him himself will die, not like those suicide bombers that commit suicide and kill everyone with bomb.
ROCHAS OKOROCHA

This is the very reason I established the Ministry of Happiness and purpose fulfillment! When we eat chicken , we are happy and the chicken itself fulfills its purpose by providing nourishment for us. So the chicken crossed the road to bring happiness. In fact, a giant statue of the chicken will be erected in Owerri the state capital.

OBASANJO

The chicken crossed the road to join forces with the 3rd force. All well meaning Nigerians like this chicken must come together to ensure our nascent democracy is consolidated by the development of Nigeria as a nation. The Buhari government has failed Nigerians and so he should forget about a second term. If this chicken is an APC member, I encourage it to tear its party card as a proof of its absolute commitment to this 3rd force.

GOVERNOR ORTOM OF BENUE STATE

Just like I wrote a letter to the president informing him of an imminent attack on our state by Fulani Herdsmen, I also wrote to him that there will be massive chicken crossing on Benue highways but my letter was ignored. Now this is the consequence! I hereby call on the people of Benue to be ready to defend themselves against not just Fulani herdsmen but against chickens that may want to shed blood on Benue soil. The Federal government has failed us and so we should expect no help from there.

BEN MURRAY-BRUCE

In civilized societies, chickens don’t roam about in the open. They are kept in well managed poultries and when they have to be consumed as food, they are killed in the most humane of ways. But not so in our dear country Nigeria. Chickens should be in poultries, its common sense! I am Ben Murray-Bruce and I just want to make common sense.
SENATE PRESIDENT BUKOLA SARAKI

The Senate committee on chicken matters have been meeting and very soon, they will submit their findings to this honourable house.

SENATOR SHEHU SANI

I really am afraid about this chicken crossing the road. Remember monkeys allegedly swallowed about 70 million naira from Senator Adamu’s farm, and before that, a snake had swallowed 36 million naira from JAMB office. This chicken may well be on its way to swallow some millions from God knows where!

NNAMDI KANU

I have said it times without number that the entity called Nigeria is nothing but a zoo! The chicken is just being at home in its zoological habitat. By the grace of God when the Biafran dream is actualized, nothing of this sort will be seen in Biafra. People, and not chickens will be the ones crossing roads and the Nigerian government can do absolutely nothing to stop Biafra from happening.

AUDU OGBEH

The chicken crossed the road because just like Fulani herdsmen, we have not done enough by way of incentives for chicken rearers like we have done for rice farmers and cassava farmers. So this government is going to set up federal chicken colonies across the 36 states of the federation and the FCT. This will go a long way in stemming incidences of chickens crossing roads.

AYO FAYOSE

No chicken will be allowed to cross any road in Ekiti state.  The anti-crossing bill has just been signed into law in Ekiti. So any chicken seen crossing the road will be dealt with decisively.

IBRAHIM MAGU – EFCC

The chicken is currently being investigated for corrupt practices so it comes as no surprise that it crossed the road as it is running away to avoid prosecution. But as long as I am in office, any chicken whose hands are stained with corruption will be apprehended by this anti graft body. There are no sacred chickens!
ONE EDO BOY

Me I nor jus get anytin to talk put for the matter because who e epp? Abi the road wey e cross, I fit use am cross enter Italy?

So, what are your own thoughts? Why did the chicken cross the road?

Advertisements
Posted in Musings | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

A MOTHER DEFILED

 

motherdefiled

The drums beat loudly in her head, rising disproportionately as the tempo of the organic piston pounding her inner surf quickened. It was chaotic and unbearable, like the cacophony of a senseless noisy orchestra led by an unschooled conductor. Withal the dancing flashes of brilliant colours she used to see with her eyes closed? Were her ears now deaf to the harmonious chords that once escaped her lips as she stretched taut in blissful tension? Who is this man that now has rolled off her, spent and soaked in perspiration, pleasured, while she in pain and shame weeps? She recalled the song sung years back when she got married in 1960:

Your marriage shall be a blessing

Your children surround your table

You will see your children’s children

So says the Lord of host…

The marriage has been anything but a blessing. Yes, her children indeed surround her table. The same children that rape her at the slightest chance. Shehu, Chukwuma, Olabode, the very progeny of her wedlock, committing such heinous crimes. Had they not even fought among themselves for the right if ever there is, to rape her, their mother? Her other children have not ceased to cry out accusingly at the evils of their brothers. But that gives her no comfort whatsoever. She knows only too well that they cry out not because they care about her, but because they have not had the opportunity to defile her, like their bigger and stronger brothers.

Could there be a family curse at work? Her sisters have not fared any better…Malibel, Sudany, Zimbabwella, Cameroondia…it was the same sad story.

 You will see your children’s children… The line rang like a pronouncement of doom. Could she hope for better from her children’s children? Or would it be like fathers like sons? Still lying on the bed wherein she had been defiled countless times, laden with sorrow and self pity, Nigeriana fell asleep.

[Photo credit: International Business Times]

 

Posted in Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A VICTIM OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE?!

 

Ovie Mordi

The child kept crying in bits of hysteria, clutching unto his mother as he happened upon my disfigured face. Of course I do not blame him. Instead my mind travelled down memory lane: I am flat on my back, or what is left of it, on a hospital bed, with third-degree burns. A victim of the English language.

You see, I’m an African born in Nigeria. I grew up speaking my mother tongue, Igbo. The originator of the language had to be God, for there is no inherent ambiguity about the language. “Good” is always “good”, “bad” meant just that, bad.  In the safety of this language I stayed, and never had as much as a scratch due to a conflict of meanings based on arbitrary and ambiguous rules of semantics. Until English language happened.

I had just started school and you know the drills: A for apple, B for ball, C for cat, and so on. So was I introduced to the English language. It was fun and quite enjoyable, initially. Then came antonyms: tall and short, good and bad, right and wrong, and the likes. Soon we encountered words whose meanings change upon the introduction of a prefix: responsible and irresponsible, decent and indecent, expensive and inexpensive, etc. Well, it was on the basis of this knowledge I trustingly did what I did which yielded such an unforeseen result.

I had gotten home from school that fateful day, still chanting the new words I just learnt. As usual, there was no one at home. My parents get home from work in the evening, so I had liberty to engage in some little mischief. Smoking was a new fun I had begun to indulge in. I was only ten. Mother often wondered about my new predilection for garlic. Of course I hated garlic! The smell, the taste and after taste, but it was a necessary evil to hide the smell of cigarette in my breath. I had just brought out the two sticks of cigarettes I bartered for with my school lunch of bean cakes when I heard uncle Chibueze calling out my name from the entrance. I quickly hid the sticks and went out to meet him.

“Ojiogwu” I greeted in our dialect

“Thank you my son” he responded. “Take this jerrican of petrol and keep it for your father” he said handing me a can. “Tell him I will collect the money for it by the next market day” he added as he walked away.

“Okay uncle” I answered and made my way back into the house. Father had bought a motorcycle the month before and uncle Chibueze had been supplying fuel for it. Our remote village could not boast of a gas station. That day was the first time I had taken personal delivery of the parcel. As I made for father’s room, I noticed a red sticker with an inscription on the side of the jerrican. The words inscribed were to change my life forever: “HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE”.

You see, my ten year old mind reasoned quite intelligently that if irresponsible is opposite to responsible, and indecent is opposite to decent, then inflammable must be opposite to flammable. To verify my logic, I took off the jerrican’s cover, got a match box, took out a match, and struck. I was wrong. So wrong. The English language proved to be inconsistent in its rules and I paid dearly for it. Ever since, I have been distrustful of the language. And of course, I have not touched a cigarette since then.

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Last Night I Took Off My Purity Ring

Now this is one piece I love. If you think like I used to that TRUE LOVE WAITS, you may want to think again after reading this

Be Malleable

Last night-after 6 years- I took off my purity ring.
Not because I no longer desire to be pure but because of the little words engraved on the ring: “True Love Waits”. I don’t want this to sound cheesy or even condescending, but no. TRUE love doesn’t wait.

The reality is I have experienced the ultimate love of Jesus. Not JUST because he died on the cross for me-the ultimate act of love- but because he constantly romances me every single day with a love that never fails. No, he is not my “boyfriend” but he is true love. He is the love I’ve been waiting for. I’m not “waiting” around for something better, because there is no better love. If the Lord gives me the gift of marriage, then that’s soooo exciting. But life doesn’t start when you get married people. Its now. Its right in front of…

View original post 724 more words

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

How is my sex life any of your concern?

Grace and Truth

Somewhere in the world, there’s a forty year old man sleeping with a 17 year old girl.  Are you concerned?  What if I told you that he has been sleeping with her for the past 3 years?  Are you now concerned?  What if I said that she’s in fact his daughter?  Are you very concerned now?  Angry even?  Then, might I add that he also compels her to entertain his friends?  If you’re not outraged by now, you should really question your humanity, or at least get a mental health examination!

At different points in my portrayal, different sorts of people would have been concerned. You might find that your experience of sexuality numbed you of any emotion until the last piece was painted. However, you finally had cause for concern – Child Abuse and Exploitation!

Aside from our experience of sexuality, our knowledge, understanding, values and beliefs would have…

View original post 630 more words

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Reader Story: The Day My Heart Broke

The Fickle Heartbeat

The Day My Heart Broke

Shared by Ufuoma E-Ashogbon.

It had been a few months, and I knew something had changed.  I didn’t want to believe it, I couldn’t bare the thought.  I tried to explain his behaviour away, tried to think that perhaps our problems were circumstantial, and that we would soon overcome the rough patch.  But it was not to be overcome, when it was my desire alone.

During that time, love songs rang through my mind like a depressed juke box, as if my soul was singing away its blues.  I remember one of them being ‘Can’t stay away from you’ by Gloria Estefan, and another was by Vonda Shepherd, ‘Baby, don’t you break my heart slow’.  It was strange because I hadn’t even listened to those songs for a long time.  But my heart was already crying, because it knew that it was treacherously held.

I listened to…

View original post 511 more words

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

A TAD TOO LATE

On a good week day, the traffic on Zik Way is usually bad. On a bad day, it is infuriatingly bad. For a man whose impatience is as legendary as they come, Nnamdi was unusually calm as he inched his way home, caught in the infuriatingly bad traffic on what was a bad day for motorists. He wasn’t pounding on his car horn or using curse words on other motorists perceived to be contributing to the state of the traffic jam. In fact, he was only vaguely conscious of the fact that he was driving as his hands and feet worked on the controls as if with minds of their own. His mind was still cogitating on the message that was given at the Full Gospel business men’s fellowship about an hour before.

The speaker had spoken on the topic Act like you love your wife.  Nnamdi knew in his heart that he really loved his wife. He could even die for his wife, or so he believed. However by the time the speaker was done, he had to admit to himself that though he loves his wife, he had not been acting so for a while, for a long while. “When last did we have a nice long relaxed chat?” he asked himself. There simply had been no time for such idle and ‘unproductive’ activities when there was a successful and ever expanding business to manage. It had been business, business, business. But he had decided all that was going to change from then on. Hadn’t the speaker said beyond an emotion you feel, love is a decision you make? Now he had decided he was going to really love his wife, and act like he did.

It was 9:47pm by the time he got home. Yemi his wife opened the door to let him in with an almost inaudible greeting of welcome sweet, the ornately crafted mahogany door hiding her from Nnamdi as he walked in. He had long stopped hugging and kissing her when he comes from work so she was pleasantly shocked when rather than grunt a thank you dear, and head straight upstairs, he grabbed her by the waist, turned her to face him and  planted a kiss on her lips.  “You look stunning in this pink night gown” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

“What has come over you?” she asked.

“That is not the response a man who just complimented his pretty wife should get. Anyways, nothing has come over me, I’m just …” he paused to give her a kiss on her forehead, and continued: “…loving you”.

“Okay oo…” she responded, not sure what to make of the sudden display of affection. “Anyways,” she continued while helping him with his briefcase, “Why don’t you go have a nice warm bath while I set the table.”

That night, they had a pleasant long chat as they lay cuddled against each other in bed; lots of laughter, light and friendly arguments, a few pillow fights and finally, some passionate love making.

‘Hey sleepy head it’s time to wake up” Nnamdi sang as he roused his wife the next morning. Yemi stirred, opening her eyes. Memories of the previous night rushed through her mind. She would have concluded it had all been a dream but the loving look on Nnamdi’s face told her otherwise. Last night really happened. She stretched and yawned, enjoying every bit of the sensations.

“You really knocked me out last night Sweet” she said as she pulled him down to kiss him.

“So did you Dear, so did you.”

She made to get up from the bed but he stopped her. “Not before this” he said as he picked up from the bedside stool, a tray of toast bread and two cups of coffee. “It’s been a while we had breakfast in bed” he added.

“Ooh, how sweet of you. This is all so pleasantly surreal. Please don’t ever snap out of whatever has come over you.”

“Well, that would depend on the potency of the love portion some medicine man must have given you to hypnotize me”. They both laughed heartily and settled in for their breakfast.

“’Oh my God!” Yemi exclaimed in the middle of their conversation as they ate. Following the line of her sight, Nnnamdi looked up to the clock on the wall.

“Relax, I won’t be going to the office today.”

“But I thought you were going to meet with some Chinese delegates today?”

“I cancelled the appointment yesterday. In fact I cancelled all my appointments for today.”

“I don’t get you, is anything the matter? It is very unlike you to –“

“Nothing is the matter dear. I just have this one important appointment with this all important person and it will likely take the whole day. That is if this person wouldn’t mind.”

“And who might that be?” she asked suspiciously

“It’s the most beautiful woman in the world. I want to be with you today. It has been a long time.”

It was all she could do to stop the tears that welled up in her eyes from flowing. This sudden expression of love and affection from a husband that previously let her understand in no uncertain terms that the job came first, then her. After all, I work this hard for you and the family! That was how he had put it just two weeks ago. She considered telling him right then, what she had wanted to for some days, but decided not to. It can wait. Nothing was going to spoil the day’s fun.

And fun they had that day. They went to the Museum of African arts which she had always wanted to visit, and spent some time at the new games park. They felt like kids again as they screamed and laughed in the roller coaster and thrill rides. From the park, they proceeded to the shopping mall and bought gifts for each other.

“Is this how you spend my hard earned money?” Nnamdi exclaimed in mock annoyance when he saw the expensive Rolex wristwatch and a Shalini perfume she bought him.

“if I don’t spend it who will?” she replied with a smirk.

After a whole day of fun and conviviality, the headed for the cinema

Yemi couldn’t hold back the tears when the movie they were seeing got to a particularly touching scene where the the critically sick wife of the hero had to commit suicide to save her husband the financial burden of her medical condition.

“Many things to be grateful for, chief of which is sound health” Nnamdi offered solemnly as he drew her close comfortingly.

“And love, being able to love and be loved” Yemi responded.

They got back home at about 10pm, after what had been an altogether memorable day. They didn’t realize how exhausted they were until they got in bed. Though Yemi made an attempt to start a conversation but decided against it when she noticed Nnamdi was already drifting off. Besides, she was tired too, even though not necessarily sleepy given what she wanted to tell him. Well, it can wait until tomorrow she concluded in her mind. She was soon asleep like Nnamdi and dreamt about the suicide scene of the movie they had seen hours before. In the dream, she was the character that committed suicide.

The next morning, Nnamdi woke up quite late and was surprised to find Yemi still asleep. He considered waking her up but decided otherwise. He showered and got dressed for work. When he got set to leave he dropped a note by the bedside saying he would be back home by 1pm. As his lips made contact with her forehead when he leaned to give her a kiss, he noticed her temperature seemed high. He felt her with his palm to confirm. His face creased slightly after his gentle taps didn’t elicit any response. Alarm bells went off in his head when she remained unconscious after shaking her vigorously.

“Yemi wake up! Yemi! Yemi!” he called still shaking her. Still no response. He lifted her to the car and sped off to the hospital, praying aloud all the way, calling her name intermittently.

He waited impatiently at the lobby of the Emergency ward where she had been admitted. It had been three hours since she was brought in. A thousand possibilities of what could be wrong ran amok in his mind, sending cold shivers down his spine. “Please God, don’t let anything happen to her.” he prayed.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor came out and was immediately apprehended by Nnamdi.

“How is my wife? Please tell me she is alright”

“I’m quite surprised,” he began, “the test results from last week indicated that the brain tumor was benign and still operable. But apparently for some inexplicable reasons, it became malignant, growing rapidly and crowded the surrounding healthy brain tissue and…”

It wasn’t making any sense to Nnamdi. She wasn’t even ill before today so what is this talk about benign and malignant brain tumor?

“Doctor, you must be mistaken, we were together the whole of yesterday and she was sound until just this morning and besides, my wife never came here for any test. I should have known!” It was the doctor’s turn to be confused.

“Emm…Mr Nnamdi, I am quite surprised because she was indeed here two weeks ago and we ran a test after listening to her complaints. It was expected that she would communicate with you since she said you had to be unavoidably absent last week when the test results were disclosed. I find it quite unsettling to know you are not aware.”

“How could she have kept something that important from me?” Nnamdi demanded as if the doctor were to blame. “Anyway, I have to go see her now!” he said as he made to brush past the doctor. But the doctor stood in his way with a look of pain and empathy.

“Emm…actually…that is what I am trying to say, I’m sorry we did all we could, but…she didn’t make it…”

Nnamdi’s whole world seemed to freeze at first, and in that frozen state his brain, detached from his emotions, processed the information he just received. Someone just died. That someone was a woman. That woman was his wife. The wife he had only just started loving in the real sense of the word. Then it hit home, sending his frozen world into a wild spin. His vision blurred, his feet felt rubbery, he wasn’t even vaguely aware when the doctor’s arms caught him before he hit the floor.

 

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments