Wednesday, June 10, 2009

I Kid You Not, D’Banj Has Got Nothing On This Guy…

Move over Flava Flav! Move over D’Banj!

If you thought D’Banj’s upcoming reality TV show, Koko Mansion - with its kinky specifications of who a Kokolette should be and all - was the latest, most-lucrative way to combine romance and commerce, here’s a Newsflash for you: you got it dead wrong!

This ad was spotted by eagle-eyed Jumoke Verissimo in one of our national dailies and no, it is no practical joke.

According to her, the following is a picture of an advertorial that appeared in The Punch Newspapers of May 27th, 2009. For an original (comical) experience, kindly click on the picture and zoom in adequately. Please pardon the small size / poor resolution:

For the sakes of others who cannot, I have also taken the pains of transcribing the ad below exactly as it appears. Kindly take out time to read this (all the emphasis are mine):


Administration Executive (Female)
Our client, divorced, in his late fifties, and from one of the Igbo-speaking Eastern States, is the Chief Executive of a reputable organisation based in Lagos. He requires the services of Administration Executive (female), with the opportunity of progressing to the position of Executive Director.

Special Requirements
The successful candidate must be:
from one of the Igbo-speaking Eastern States (single or divorced);
a devoted, practising Christian, presentable, with good disposition and pleasant personality;
professional, mature, and humble;
ready for a meaningful relationship that may lead to marriage;
preferably 35 - 50 years of age;

good Degree in a business-related discipline;
MBA or Professional Qualification is an added advantage;
outstanding skill in Business Communication, Office Administration, and Public Relations;
proficiency in the use of Information Communications Technology, especially office application packages;
reasonable working experience

Nature Of Duties
Provides efficient administrative support to the Chief Executive, enabling him to devote more time to major policy issues;
Undertakes general office administration, including human resource management, procurement, maintenance of facilities, and top secretarial functions;
Carries out corporate affairs functions, including public relations, training and events planning.

There is absolutely no limit to what the right candidate will earn: very good annual salary within the seven-figures bracket, which is negotiable, depending on present position and experience: official car with driver, official accommodation, retirement benefits, free medical services in a first-class medical centre, etc.

Method Of Application
Each candidate is required to submit the following:
hand-written application;
detailed profile stating age, weight, height, special interests, family background, town/state of origin, employment history, telephone number, and physical contact address for urgent courier delivery;
a recent full size coloured photograph

General Information
All applicants with be treated with utmost respect and confidentially.
All candidates will be contacted.
There will be an interactive session (reciprocal interview) between our client and each candidate for exchange of detailed and honest personal information in strict confidence, at a special venue that will guarantee maximum privacy. The interactive session will feature only one candidate each day.
Each candidate attending the interactive session will be refunded full transport expenses (including accommodation and feeding for those attending from outside Lagos).
Unsuccessful candidates will have their documents and photographs returned to them intact.

Closing Date
Applications should be sent to:

The Principal Consultant
c/o P.M.B. 3063
not later than Monday 15th June 2009.

The End…

Finished reading? Good… Now, let me share my own views. If I understand the ad right, this Igbo-speaking CEO dude requires a single or divorced, super multi-tasking, female Admin. Exec who’s ready for a meaningful relationship that may lead to marriage and who will earn a negotiable seven-figure salary p.a. with an official car, driver and accommodation thrown in the kitty. Chikena!

Talk of having your cake and eating it!

Of special interest is the part where he mentions she should be able to carry out corporate affairs functions including events-planning (their marriage/child dedication ceremonies, perhaps?). Plus the selection process which involves an interactive/reciprocal interview at a special venue that will guarantee maximum privacy. All candidates will be contacted! Haba! This guy na he-goat? In my books, that’s just decent wording to say “come to a hotel room so I can sample you candidates one at a time”. Surprising that he didn’t include a specific section detailing the bedroom skills of his prospective employees!

But that’s my own biased view. I shall VERY MUCH like to hear yours on the above. Entries close 15th of June (for the vacancy, not your comments) so, ladies, if any of you is brave enough to apply for the position, please be sure to keep us enlightened on the interview and screening processes.

And finally, let the credits roll:

Pix: Mucho gracias to Jumoke Verissimo for her Facebook pictures.
Placement & Additional Reportage: JonXavier “Naughty Eyes”

PS: In case you are unaware, Jumoke Verissimo is a journalist, poet and writer of a poetry collection called I Am Memory. She was also one of the authors featured in the 9 Writers, 4 Cities Book Tour. You can call to get a list of shops where you can buy her book or search for her on Facebook. And no, this is not a paid ad…

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Honestly Afronuts, If I “Cash” You Ehn!!!

Afronuts! Afronuts!! Afroooooonuts-ehhhhhh!!! How many times did I call you? Na wetin? Where you dey when they were nominating bloggers for the NBAs, instead na this “Scrap” award you come dash me abi? If I cash you, I will flog you eh soteeeeey… OK, it’s just that mini-‘Nuts is on the way and it wouldn’t be nice for him/her to see koboko marks on Daddy’s bum-bum. So for AfroBaby’s sake, you are forgiven.

After being tagged the first time, if you see the way I’ve been dodging the thing eh, you’d think tag was a LASTMA official! Now Afronuts has to go and smoke me out again… Not only do I get to tell 10 Honest Things about myself, but by the time I’m through I’d have made 7 brand new enemies on top. And the worst is that just like I’ve been doing in recent times, this is not a real Phoneparazzi post sef…

Even though I’ve told you guys quite a lot about me in this post here, I still had to come with 10 Honest things all over again. Anyway, let me quit complaining and do the meme. The quicker the pain, the better…

Quick-quick! Here are the quirky rules as copied from Buttercup (I prefer her version):

The (funny) rules:
1. You must brag about it.
2. You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger.
3. You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Or improvise by including bloggers who have no idea who you are because you don’t have seven friends (LOL).
4. Show the seven random victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with the Honest Weblog Award. Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.
5. List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!

I was given the Honest Scrap Award by the ‘nutty Afronuts. This is me bragging… AT LEAST I GOT ME AN AWARD! *Brag! Brag!! Brag!!!*
13 Honest Things About Me:
1. I love Love. Said like the hardcore romantic that I am. With the way I diss love and marriage nowadays, you’d never think of it to hear me but deep inside I am mad romantic, a sucker for love even. Though I haven’t shown it in a long while, I do crazy things for love… Gosh! Thinking of some things I did in the past still makes my ass blush. And no, I’m so not telling…

2. I can’t dance. Amongst the list of a million and one things I can’t do. Never been to a club all my long life because when I do get to dance in one, I’ll be sure to be charged with murder when the other dancers die laughing. I can count the number of parties I’ve attended on one hand with 2 fingers amputated and I ended up as DJ so as to escape the dancing bit. Whenever I’m on my own I just love to crank up the music and tear away into my funny dances. God save me the day someone catches me on camera!

3. I hate the fact that I’ve been an underachiever most of my life. Can’t swim, can’t ride a bike or do a whole lot of things that normal kids did too. It’s all due to my no-good, over-sheltered childhood. The worst thing is now I’m getting rather old to do most things but I swear I’m going to try doing them even if I’m 70. OK, time to go and get those dreadlocks!

4. Sometimes I’m a touchy-feely person, most times I’m not. I love cuddling like MAD! In fact, cuddling a voluptuous female has been proven to be the only cure for (my) insomnia. I wish someone could bottle a cuddle, it’d be the world’s best-selling drug. That said, I detest it when unfamiliar people go out of their way to brush against me, especially when there’s enough space in between. I like my elbow room so no bashing my knees with yours or creeping up to zap me from behind, thank you.

5. I intend being celibate until marriage. Even if so many people don’t believe me almost 30 years on. Had a girlfriend years ago and we spent nights together, hence the major source of disbelief. Funny thing is a couple of ladies have scorned me once I mention celibacy, like they think my machinery’s wonky or something. Another major problem: how does one really define celibacy? Thing is, when it comes to issues in the nude between men and women trust me, I know everything (well, almost everything) and I have even studied everything academically sef and tried my hand at a few. But pray, does spending years sitting in a barbershop holding clippers while reading hairstyle magazines make you a great barber? I think not…

6. I think I’ll suck at sex. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking… Apropos of 5 above, I believe several things: one, sex is over-rated. Two, I don’t know how I know sex is over-rated seeing as I’ve got no proof. Three, I believe I’d be so bad at it, I’m too scared to find out. And four, I think that will be up to my wife to discover. Poor brave woman…

7. I’m semi-athletic (?). Always came last in school sports so I kept perfecting means of disappearing during school Inter-house Sports periods. Suddenly, one day like that I just chose to run a mini-marathon (OK, I lie, it was a micro-mini marathon). Shrimp like me, I must have been quite a sight puffing around that track until - miracles of miracles - I came 4th! I was so stunned, I promptly collapsed after the finish line rather than face my cheering Sports housemates and the House Master’s beaming face. News spread round school like wildfire how the shrimp had beat his father’s mates to emerge among the Top 10!
The story doesn’t end there oh… At the finals, I managed to pull another disappearing act while my name was been hollered on the loudspeakers till a classmate found me out and dragged me back to the field. I sucked so bad at the race that I eventually dropped out, proof that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice. Ever since then, I have tried my hand at pseudo-serious shotokan karate, volleyball and basketball with mixed results…

8. I’m confused about raising kids. Which is rather odd seeing as I’ve raised my little niece mostly on my own for over 10 years! It was rather frightening seeing her grow from that toddler beauty I used to carry around everywhere to becoming the talkative, sweet yet rebellious teenager she has now turned into. Her mom can handle that one now. I love kids no doubt but it’s the metamorphosis that scares me, considering especially how wicked the world is turning into. Rather than raise a kid to be bad, I’d prefer to remain without them.

9. Never been afraid of the dark. Ok, I lifted that one from Buttercup but it’s so true, probably because I never believed in fearing things I can’t visualize (can’t see in the dark anyway - I’m night blind). It’s odd sometimes but I go outside late at night and take a little walk or just sit down to think and “watch” over good people while a few bad people do their thing. It gives me a kind of thrill listening to the creepy sounds night animals make, people snoring out of their open windows and the occasional gunshot. Almost like I’m watching over the world like a parent watches a sleeping child. Funny thing is, Mama and Grandma used to try so hard to make me scared of going outside in the dark…

10. I don’t like my father. No, I don’t hate him, just that I don’t like him much. Not only did he walk out on us when we needed him but he did it the hard way: taking everything - our identities, credentials and documents, leaving behind nothing, destroying even our name and credibility with scandalous stories… Anyway, I forgave him ages ago though we haven’t seen for yearssssss and I like it that way. I hold no animosity towards him (honest) but I’d rather be left alone. Maybe when I eventually make it, who knows…

11. I’m way too emotional, I’m way too cold… Talk of being all mixed-up, I don’t know why in some very tense, strenuous or emotional situations I just turn ice-cold and yet watching some movies gets me bawling like a baby. Call it unmanly if you will but remember that scene in The Champ where he dies after winning the fight? It was so heart-rending I cried each time I watched that movie. Even that scene towards the end of Hancock where Charlize Theron gets stronger with each step Hancock takes away from her really got me wiping tears. Funny thing is no-one who watched that movie with me understood the significance of Hancock’s sacrifice.

12. I used to like embellishing gist eh! But I’ve stopped now. Back then I never seemed to have the latest gossip so anytime I got the chance to drop hot gist, I would add all the salt and pepper and curry to the gist soteeeeey! I mean, what’s the need of recounting a car accident for example without exaggerating how the car flipped 10 times before bursting into flames? God forgive me sha, but I’ve even added my own jara to movies I’ve watched and stories I’ve read just to make them “sweeter” twisting the plot as I go along till sometimes I’ve created brand-new sequels out of boring movies. Even till now, I sometimes catch myself remixing hit songs in my head. What can I say?

13. I’m so sure I’m going to make it! While this isn’t really an “honest” thing about me, I am so sure it is going to happen anytime soon. You guys watch out. I know I’ve got the POTENTIAL and God didn’t give it all to me for nothing. It’s left to me to make it ACTUAL so all you players, quit frontin’. (That’s me feeling like a rapper).
When I think of all the things I am unable to do right now, all the people who have snubbed me because I’m not high class or fly, all the stuff I am unable to buy, all these things negative as they may be are the motivation to keep me pushing on till I make it. Just like Kanye, I’ve got an ego complex. I can’t resist the chance to look all those nay-sayers in the eye and say “I told you so”.
And by God, I am going to do it.

OK, e don do! Honesty can be such a drag. I hereby (with utmost pleasure) pass this discomfort to 7 bloggers whose blogs I’ve re-discovered recently and whom I have found to be worthy in character and learning - sorry, content and design. I hand this award to: Cerberus, Dante, Tosyn Bucknor, Tobenna, Olowo, Wellsbaba and L-VII.
If you’ve already done this before, you’re highly exempted.

PS: Trust me; one of these days when I’ve got nothing better to do on Blogville, I’m going to trace this meme all the way back from Afronuts through Parakeet until I discover who first started this meme-ing of a thing. Then I’m going to kick that person’s e-arse vewy, vewy hard and shake their hand afterwards. After all, whoever you are, you’ve just given me a chance to post.

Doing this meme was kinda cool though… Or in the wise words of a certain Danny Bagucci, very therapeutic! I’m out…

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Public Service Announcement: Broke!

My people…

Please, abeg, biko, ejo, kai! (or whatever it is Hausa people say) do not vex for me that I have not updated this blog or responded to your comments in quite a while. The reason for this happens to be this “global economic meltdown” or whichever name you want to call it that is hitting me badly.

Just imagine, for the past few months now, my middle name has been “Broke”! Ever since Danny Bagucci put up a post on the choice of names and how it affects our behaviour, I have decided to check the dictionary definition of my newly acquired middle name.

My Merriam-Webster 11th Collegiate Dictionary (on my PC) defines Broke as “the past tense of break” although I shall use the second shorter more apt description: Penniless. (There is of course, a third definition that refers to a sexual encounter but I can’t find that slang in my Merriam-Webster so let’s not go there.)

Most of my Phoneparazzi shots are usually not planned or composed beforehand since most of them are taken on the spur of the moment anyway, but then there also are the few which are as a result of desperation such as the one shown below:
Yes oh, people! That is a shot of my fridge in my current broke state. To make matters worse, it’s a mini-fridge (or fridgelet, abi no be so LG?) and the thing really isn’t mine sef.

For the un-initiated let me explain the contents of this darling fridge. You see those plenty shiny polythene bags in there? Those things are satchets of good old “pure water”. The rest of the fridge is empty apart from a packet of drinking straws (I don’t think I’ve ever used them to drink anything) and 60 Naira’s worth of Agege bread wrapped in a black poly bag. C’est finis.

On top of the fridge rests a knife, a ring boiler (that has never been used), an empty bottle of jam and a can of Blue Band margarine all about to be pressed into active service in preparing Agege bread breakfast.

Ladies, most men will never admit this oh, but the sight of refrigerators like these is a very convincing reason for us to get married. I even wish I could pretend and say this is a staged picture but by the time I finish typing this, the number of pure water in the fridge would have reduced further sef.

So, my great people, this is just one out of many reasons why I have not been updating. Things are bad. Despite my pride, I will henceforth be accepting donations - money is good, packaged food is even better.

On a final note, here’s our reflection for this weekend: Just how would you define “Broke”?

I have just shown you mine. E remain your own…

PS: A certain female blogger has commissioned me to take pictures of a certain class of people in society. The funny thing is, I used to see them everywhere before but now I've accepted the assignment, they seem to have disappeared! If worst comes to the worst, thanks to my current state, I'll just snap myself and mail it to her...

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Is Technology Reading Our Minds?

My apologies... Despite the title, this is not a real post. I guess I'm just faffing around… whatever that means…

The Techno-seer?
You’ve read a good post. You want to comment. You click on the link and a window pops up that may or may not have Comment Moderation turned on according to the blog author’s settings. You leave your comments and then you may or may not need to fill in the Word Verification security thingy.

Ok, sorry oh! I forgot… you all know the drill.

Anyway, sometime in the recent past, I was gleefully reading an (ahem!) R-rated post on Woomie’s blog and I wanted to leave a slightly X-rated comment on it when I opened the Comment form and this is what I saw:

Ahn ahn! How come? I thought this word verification thing is usually supposed to generate a jumble of words so as to confirm if a human being is actually typing in the word? How could it have possibly known I wanted to type a “bad” thing? This thing can be spooky oh!

That’s how the other day I was on M.I.’s blog it wanted me to type in “lemoncaid” (a mixture of lemonade and Kool-aid? Hmm…)

So tell me, what are some of the most unusual words you’ve come across when browsing through blogs’ Comment Moderation or e-mail and site log-ins?

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Eat Or You Die…

My boss was in the bank. As I sat outside waiting, I stared at another bank that had closed mysteriously.

One day customers woke up and went to the bank only to be told their bank had been shifted to another branch. No reason, no explanations. Just like that.

I wondered why the shift. Was money mysteriously disappearing from their vaults? Was the building haunted? Why then did they still maintain security staff and a fully functioning ATM at an abandoned bank building?

“Ek’ aaro oh!” Her greeting broke into my reverie. I looked at her. She carried her baby in the crock of her armpit and held 2 deep plates in each hand. Their contents were visible. One contained garri, our culinary lingua franca, the other held water.

“Ek’aaro!” I answered. My Yoruba was very shaky but at least I knew a greeting when I heard one.

I watched as she sat down and lay down the baby on one thigh, parallel to the ground. It was an odd position to keep a baby so I looked on fascinated. She then proceeded to turn all the water from one small bowl into the other that contained dry garri until the whole thing turned into that popular breakfast of champions called “G4” or “garium sulphate” or even better, “cassa-flakes”. She wanted to soak garri.

I noticed two other things. One, that she didn’t sieve (or filter, depending on your grammar) the garri to remove the particles of ash, cassava fibers and other such debris floating on top. Some people claimed that if you did, you took away the garri’s “power”. Second, she didn’t have a spoon with her.

She looked up and caught me watching as she did her “chemistry experiment”. “E wa jeun”, she said. I knew that one too. I was very amused. “Eseun ma!” I replied as I smiled and shook my head for emphasis.

She then turned the child (I could see it was a boy) on his side, wrestled his arms together behind him and pinned them with her elbow. The child, very much aware of what came next began wailing in a shrill voice that attracted the attention of other onlookers until one by one they looked away. They were probably used to this sight by now. I went back to my role as her only spectator.

I watched as she skillfully tilted the garri solution until it ran into her cupped palm placed around his mouth, all the while keeping the child trapped within the fortress of her arms and thighs. The mini-river began gushing in and each he opened his mouth to gasp, the liquid flowed in with each sob.

Somewhere inside him, an unyielding esophagus was reluctantly widening, trying in vain to block out the river which was building up behind his lips and yet responding to his body’s natural reflex for air. It even opened wider with each gasp. I had heard and read of the technique before but I had never seen it till now.

I just had to capture this. I brought out my phone and scrolled to the camera menu. She was a bit far off so I had to zoom in so as not to catch her attention. The picture quality wouldn’t be too good but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the poor child choking to death! I even thought of making a video with my phone. This would probably make great material for CNN’s iReport. Or would they just turn it around and use it as propaganda to show the “primitiveness of Africa”?

I tried to change my phone to video mode but the stupid thing was acting up. I still watched the child and his mother as he choked and a huge fountain of garri shot out of his throat. His tummy widened more to let in the vital source of nutrition. Another river flowed, this time from his eyes. I was still debating the video question when my Boss walked out of the bank and we had to go.

I still think about the scene I had witnessed. That child had refused to eat. His mother had forced him to. Somewhere in his puny heart he hated her at the moment but he’d say “Mummy, I love you” hours later when she lay him on the mat to sleep. Rather than let him die without eating, she would nearly kill him just to feed him. Ironical. One way or the other feeding and death were involved. OK, maybe it wasn’t as drastic as that.

He would grow up someday to become a strapping young lad, probably the toast of the ladies. Or who knows, the MD of that bank with the mysterious building. Or maybe, President…

He will recall many things: his mother’s love, his personal milestones, his hometown, his first real kiss. He wouldn’t remember the times when his mother force-fed him as a child.

Or the Phoneparazzi that snapped her as she did…


Ek' aaro oh! -- Good morning

E wa jeun -- Come and (join me to) eat

E seun ma -- Thank you ma’am

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Doctor Dolittle

Warning: Animal lovers and some squirmy people might find this post… well… squirmy

Ever since I moved into my new neighbourhood late last year, I seem to be caught up in a “Dr. Dolittle” moment of some sort. You all know Dr. Dolittle don’t you? That funny vet guy who talks to animals?

Well, me and these animals seem to be communicating alright. I can’t hear what they’re saying much but they sure do get my message: GERROUTTTT!!! It’s that simple.

I’m beginning to suspect Noah must have ditched his ark right beside my house and some drunken scholar mistakenly wrote Mount Ararat instead. Ever since I moved into this house, I have seen (and been bitten by) every specie of ant known to man and Martians alike. The other time I turned on the bulb late at night to see a family of spiders scurrying across the floor like as if they had a movie to catch and were late.

Then there are the usual suspects: rats and cockroaches. Like any self-respecting bachelor knows, nothing spoils a guy’s rep worse than cockroaches. I mean, that lady you’ve been eyeing may never know there are rats in the house unless she sleeps over but cockroaches…!

I mean, check this out: After weeks of persuasions and negotiations, she finally agrees to pay you a visit. Your house is clean, the can of air-freshener is half empty and the wine is chilling at minus 6 degrees. She’s laughing at your jokes, your apprehensions are gradually dying out and you actually begin patting yourself on the back.

Hold your horses! Just when the conversation becomes lighter and you’re about to ask her her favourite position, that silly cockroach on your wall close to the ceiling who’s been straining to eavesdrop on the gossip leans over too far and falls right on top of her head!

It happened to me once and I can tell you, the only funny thing was the sight of the lady in question dancing “atilogwu” as she tried to get it off without ripping her weavon!

Now, before the thought enters your head, no, I ain’t really untidy, honest! The dumb things just hide in the most unimaginable corners until I’ve finished my spring cleaning then they come out to show me who really owns the house. Imagine! Like after boiling a kettle to take a hot bath, out pops a cockroach in your bathing water. What was it doing inside the kettle for goodness sake? Taking a sauna? And there you were thinking only you hated the Harmattan…

Anyhow, before I go on and on, here are some pictures of the Dolittle moments I’ve phoneparazzi-ed in my house over the past few weeks:

Scenario 1: This poor bugger probably thought he was the Michael Phelps of Rat-dom. He drowned in a basin in my kitchen while practicing the backstroke in preparations for the Animalympics. Predictably, I didn’t mourn.

Scenario 2: The power company’s struck again! It’s pitch black but you just need to visit the loo. Thankfully, there’s a torch at hand so “no shaking”! You go to the White House, point the light at the WC bowl and this is what you see:
I can’t figure out what it is with these animals and water. Tried flushing the bugger but he just came up for air each time. Finally had to give the dumb lizard a hand. NOOOOOO, I didn’t stick my hand in there! I just put in the mop handle and left him to figure out the rest…

Scenario 3: Still relishing your victory in the former scenario, you suddenly discover that you’ve used up all your water and need to get more. The tap inside had stopped running so out I went to get me some and something HUGE leaped out of the darkness at ME!
It took all my manliness to prevent me running back indoors screaming like a banshee. Anyway, I gathered my resolve to look outside again and as you can see from the pix, this warty fellow wasn’t even camera-shy at all like as if he owned the front of my door! Now, I really don’t mind toads but my mum has a saying: Where there are toads (and frogs), snakes will surely come…

Let me stop here for now. Have a pest-free week!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Small And Medium Scale Enterprise

Every Nigerian is a potential businessman there’s no denying that. I can bet that when God was sharing out entrepreneurship, a whole lot of Nigerians must have been jostling in front of that queue.

In stark contrast to the Maximum Security shop of the previous post, I came across this “shop” in front of a house where I went to ask directions and I must say I was so touched by their business acumen that I had to take a picture.

Their stock which was tailored to cater to our very basic needs included but was not limited to (starting clockwise from the top):

- a container with several pencils sticking out
- several plastic containers holding Maggi cubes, other miscellaneous seasonings, granulated sugar and sweets
- a bucket containing our dearly beloved garri (or is it rice? I can’t remember)
- something wrapped in a black polythene bag (couldn’t figure what was inside but I couldn’t ask to open it, now could I?)
- washing soaps and sachets of detergent on a plate
- a ledger, no doubt for recording profit and loss
- a portable cooler with a sachet of water on top signifying the contents (probably 2 other sachets)
- and a yellow paint bucket containing several other unidentifiable substances

Impressive stock, eh? Quite a way to start a business if you ask me. This pix took me down memory lane to the days when my mum did have a store like this that sold everything miscellaneous.

The whole look of this enterprise taught me a lesson in humility. This business owner, rather than steal or engage in any of a million nefarious activities wakes up every morning convinced that she is filling her neighbours’ needs and joining her efforts (no matter how small) towards national economic revival while oiling the wheel of financial independence (that’s CBN-type speak by the way).

And considering the very open nature of this shop compared with that of the previous post, I bet you the owner of this one doesn’t need to sleep with any eye open.

The pix might look amusing but please don’t laugh. After all, this was probably how ShopRite started!