tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62770813768589060972024-03-05T03:10:19.390-08:00Yewande Atanda's WorldYewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-39434086872819908662009-04-30T09:55:00.000-07:002009-04-30T10:14:04.675-07:00Letter to a FriendOh, I've not updated for sometime now! Thanks to a good friend/sister, MissHighFlyer that reminded me to update. I can't ignore the strong messages from Lati Ayoola, Aloofar and Princekay123. I love you all. That's why I can't forget to pray for you guys every morning. Well, am fully back to blogville, I mean it. I must say I really miss the jokes from Agbero (that guy is a big clown!)<br /><br />I don't really have much to talk about. What do I need to say? I've liberated myself from the shackles of an enemy-friend and I am now enjoying every bit of my life. I just realised it is good to be single; it's good to be free. <br /><br />I stumbleed on this letter written to a friend by Segun Awoniyi (my senior in school) and felt like sharing it. Enjoy it! This is a pre-post; I'll properly update soon. Cheers!<br /><br /><br />Dear Olu,<br /><br />Trust you will understand if I delay the compliments…<br /><br />What is BBC, CNN, Times etc saying about the election in Ekiti? I guess you will soon post the “unbelievable” stories…<br /><br />They are true! They may be exaggerated but how true can they be….a little margin of error from being absolutely true.<br /><br />I renounced my childhood dreams I held like a conviction this past week because I wont like to live a miserable adult life because this is not where you say “YES WE CAN!” before you ask yourself without delusion that “Even if I can, what about the system”I see myself giving sixteen years old Olusegun Awoniyi at FESTAC College of those days a knock for daring to dream of being President when his AUDACITY is not hinged on substance before even considering hope….the fact that it won’t materialize is not based on pessimism but glaring realities.<br /><br />The first is that we hate truth; truth actually is what suits us, what is in our favour. If it is not in our favour, it becomes an error; it should be turned on its head by propaganda. I still wonder (maybe beyond next tomorrow) when we will be able to conduct elections where losers will see themselves as such and get on with their life which in truth is actually much more important than dictating the life of others ironically in what we call a democracy.<br /><br />Playwrights need no inspiration out here as the drama is always interesting to behold with poor folks fighting to defend two or more evils they are willing pawns to choose from-some regrettably lose their life in the process. To join the fray because of patriotic ambition can only result in three basic choices….I kill my conscience; my conscience kills me even if I don’t die physically, or I be killed by those who can’t stand my having a conscience! Those who fail will also be on the sidelines shouting and cursing before they soon realize they are alone with the still small voice saying “if you can’t beat them….”<br /><br />I know you are busy working up your sleeves, continue in that and be not vain like our two billionaires who continually accuse each other on pages of newspapers of manipulating the stock market to deceive the public and flex false muscles of their financial strength….for now, you won’t be envious of anyone who says that can only happen in our country.<br /><br />Do have a nice week ahead of you and smile in-spite of the so many absurdities whether in Halliburton or elsewhere; after all we are the happiest people in the world…we go survive!<br />Your namesake!<br />Olu.<br /><br />NB: culled from SEGUN AWONIYI's NOTEYewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-76058946723966771302009-03-24T04:50:00.000-07:002009-03-24T04:57:33.055-07:00I'm LonelyIt’s over 2 full months since I disappeared from blogsphere. I had to do that for my own interest. I needed to concentrate on certain areas that will make or mar my future; I needed a break.<br /><br />Thanks to the greatest motivators. I mean people who never got bored of saying hi and hello to know how truly I was feeling and also suggested ways to tackle my personal problems. Princekay123, Aloofar, Latifa, Sollomonsydelle, Mike, Kay9, Iwalewa, Wienna, Doll, Teeee, Snapes, LG, Geebee, Oyin, Princesa, Smaragd, Standtall-The Activist, Aloted, Oluwadee, Bumight, and my blogsphere uncle – Sola Folowosele. I also acknowledge the contributions of other bloggers (too numerous to mention) who gave me encouragement.<br /><br />I believe everything in life happens as a way to teach us lessons. Everything at all is a stage out of the different phases in our lives. <br /><br /><strong>FEBRUARY</strong><br />After the whole argument and counter argument went down, I approached him to get everything sorted out. I was at his place on February 10, 11 and 12 but he couldn’t provide the money he promised. He was just giving flimsy excuses and telling cock and bull story. I was really mad at him but kept my cool.<br />On Val’s day, I went back to his place but was shocked to find another girl inside the apartment. Though I wasn’t feeling jealous, I was not comfortable. The lady did not even allow me in. I stood at the entrance of the flat for twenty-five minutes that it took him to show up. When he came and I complained, he took it up and descended on me. He gave me the beating of my life. I was never beaten like that in my life. With a swollen face, I approached my mum but what she said baffled me. She told me she had warned me severally to be careful of the doctor. The same thing my sisters said.<br />I wept like a baby that day. I knew it was the death of my dad that caused everything. I reported the matter at the police station but they couldn’t do anything. They only told him to pay for my treatment or treat me free of charge. He was also asked to make an agreement to return my money. It is over one month now, he hasn’t paid a dime. The lackadaisical attitude of my mum and sisters was what he exploited. He knew I’m a weak person and he deliberately inflicted that injury on me. What a double loss!<br /><br /><strong>MARCH</strong><br />It was during the payment time in the office that I discovered that I only went to the office 6 working days in February. I was paid only 10% of my salary and also had a Suspension Letter waiting for me. I had caused a great loss to the company for those periods I didn’t go to work. I had shunned meetings, lost contacts with clients, delayed certain goods from being sold and some from being cleared. I never knew my loss of concentration had caused a great havoc to the firm. I also learnt that my PA/Secretary had been sacked because her service was no longer needed since I am on suspension. I was angry because nobody gave me a hint, not even my friends in the office. I was all alone with 3 months suspension. <br /><br />On March 9, I started my exam in school. It was a dismal outing. I was not psychologically ready to write 11 papers in 7 days. These papers include 4 carry-overs. My God! I dubbed all through. I 'giraffed'; I 'photocopied' others. My intention was just to pass and get out.<br /><br />My exams are over and it seems my position is no longer guaranteed in the office. The house is too hot for me to stay because I can’t cope with criticisms from everybody again. My friends, neighbours, relations and even church-friends torment my life with blames. I’m presently hanging out here in Ibadan in my Granny’s dilapidated bungalow in the outskirt of Bodija. She's the only one reasoning in from my viewpoint. She's the only one I talk to. I am damn too lonely. I can’t wait to put everything behind me and start life again. I am damn sure I won’t TRUST anybody again!Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-34180554050635200212009-01-22T07:53:00.000-08:002009-01-22T08:05:25.944-08:00HOW HE BROKE MY HEART<strong>I am doing myself a favour by writing this. Though the thought of this write up brings me close to tears, I know I had to do it to ease the burden and to liberate myself from the bondage that I placed on myself.</strong><br /><br /><em>You will understand why I am lamenting after reading this post.</em> <br /><br />If you have been following this blog, you will recall that just after my break up with Gbenga, ‘Wale’ (a medical doctor by profession) came miraculously into my life. I found him to be a caring, intelligent, kind-hearted and cool-headed guy. He has this pedigree that will make you adore him at first contact. He is handsome, gentle and bulky. He has a sense of humour and knows how to tickle me. Meeting him was something I usually look forward to everyday. Many times I missed meetings with my boss and snub official duties to keep appointment with him. I would lie to my mum that I had so many works to do in the office, but spend the whole time with Wale in his cosy apartment. I thought all was well, but I got the biggest shock of my life. Wale jilted me ‘professionally’.<br /><br /><strong>Even though my heart is still bleeding, I have no choice but to continue my life. I know I will be more observant next time. Here is the full gist.</strong><br /><br />>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><br /> <br />Our first date was on a Saturday. We were at Mega Plaza to have drinks and to unwind. I was just coming back from a client’s office where I’d gone to collect an outstanding balance. The client who is a very close family friend pleaded that I should help him deliver the money to the accountant because he could not find his way to the bank that day. Since the money was meant for the company and I was on my way back to the office, I accepted to help him out. Instead of going back to the office, I went to Obalende to hook up with ‘Wale’ who had been calling me to ascertain if our first day would be possible. <br /><br />We later went back to Mega Plaza, our original venue. We got there around 6pm and started chatting. I noticed that he didn’t come with his car, so I asked him what happened to it. He explained that he had a minor accident the previous day but just didn’t want me to panic about it, which was why he did not inform me. He told me he lost over 300,000 to the accident and that he needed about 70,000 to balance the mechanics handling the repair of the car. The way he said those words touched me badly and I had no choice but to help him. Out of the 100,000 I was taking back to the office, I gave him 70,000 to settle the car issue. At first, he refused to collect it, but when I persisted he took it and thanked me. He really appreciated it and I was glad I helped him. I also paid for our entire entertainment that day. That was just one of the numerous assistance I did for him. I even took him to our company’s lawyer who helped him get UK visa for his younger sister with 100,000 as my own commitment. He also promised to help me purchase a half plot of land in Lekki so that I can have that as investment. Being a good idea, I trusted him and paid half of the money into his account. Though my elder sister who got to know when I was withdrawing the money objected, I was determined to TRUST him. I was ‘lost’ by his sweet projections and intelligence.<br /> <br />The romance blossomed by the day. I could not sleep without knowing he was alright and he also showed great concern about me. He would insist that I come for weekly check ups at his office. Most times, I go there on Saturdays when I don’t have much to do in the house. We would gist, play, kiss and romance. It was a great experience.<br /><br />The bubble busted after during the New Year break. I noticed that ‘Wale’ was nowhere to be found on Xmas day. “Where on earth were you on Christmas day,” I queried him the next day.<br />“I had to attend to a very important patient privately, so I had to switch off my phones,” He said. <br />I insisted that he could have called me instead of being incommunicado through out that important day, but he apologized. So, I forgave him. But the same thing happened on the New Year day. I couldn’t reach him all through. When I confronted him again, he complained about network problem. Though I refused to probe further, I knew inside me that something was happening. Meanwhile, a friend told me that she spotted ‘Wale’ and his so-called sister at a bar together.<br />“Their relationship is more that that. They are dating,” she told me but I refused to listen. I knew my man cannot lie or deceive me. <br /><br />On January 4, a Sunday, I went to his house at a time I knew he would not have been around. Of course I didn’t go there to see him; I went there to interrogate his neighbour. He had at one time introduced me to the guy during one of my numerous visits, so I had no problem checking on the guy. Besides, the guy is a fresh graduate of my school, so it was very easy getting him to ‘talk’. Immediately I entered the guy’s flat, I told him my mission. As a way to forcing words out of his mouth, I told the guy I know ‘Wale’ is dating the girl that lives in his apartment but I just wanted details. When the guy heard that, he confessed. He narrated everything: How ‘Wale’ and the lady traveled for Introduction on Xmas day, how he told him that he is only planning to ‘use and dump’ me, how he intends to get more cash from me and travel abroad...<br /><br />“He had gotten a UK visa for himself and the lady. They are getting married very soon,” the guy said.<br /><br />When I heard up to this level, I fainted.<br /><br />I woke up only to find the guy ‘fanning’ me. He had poured water on my head and I could see the surprise mood on his face when I regained consciousness. Without uttering any word, I left the place dejectedly. It was as if the whole world is crashing. I’ve just been jilted and duped by somebody I am ready to die for. I was running mad. <br /><br />Later that night, the kind neighbour called me to know how I was feeling and also announced that ‘Wale’ has packed out of the place that night. “He came back when you were unconscious and discovered that you’ve known his secrets. He is out of town,” the guy announced as if that was a good news. Since then, I don’t know his whereabout and his phones are always switched off. <br /><br />Even if I bump into him by chance, what will I ask from him: my heart or money? I am totally confused now.<br /><br />My weakness is that I always believe whatever people say. My mum always cautions me to be critical when accepting what people say, but I just don’t care. This is the result of my carelessness. I just don’t know what to do. Who do I report to? For over three weeks I couldn’t open up to people, even my mum. That was why I was away from blogville. I didn’t know what to do – whether to tell people or pretend as if nothing happened. But come to think of it: How do I tell them of my third experience? Am I the only innocent girl in this world? What have I done wrong? <br /><br />For the main time, I’ve found solace in Agbero’s blog to laugh away my sorrow. I know God will make me smile again!Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-4528008711195062342008-11-18T04:12:00.000-08:002008-11-18T04:19:04.578-08:00Falling in Love with a Doctor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkWQRUyZ6Ye7UQpENk8iN6vaHs1UgeaFRzl34WA2zOsDhS_9k8_SvEtMzHfAGYRyoGLkZU4IjqGoyVXwrqdY1oAv7N_l3opXpYvA1n3amBOE7wsaEQwU_mRL9uyea7CD0NU5_wNKN3qk/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkWQRUyZ6Ye7UQpENk8iN6vaHs1UgeaFRzl34WA2zOsDhS_9k8_SvEtMzHfAGYRyoGLkZU4IjqGoyVXwrqdY1oAv7N_l3opXpYvA1n3amBOE7wsaEQwU_mRL9uyea7CD0NU5_wNKN3qk/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269970701639812722" /></a><br /><em>Fall in love, Fall in love, finally Yewande don fall in love…</em><br /><br />Two days after I left the hospital, I went back for checkup. When I got to the hospital, I met the same nurse that gave me Dr. *Wale’s note. She was very glad to see me; she gave me a befitting welcome package. Just when I was about leaving, she asked me if I had called the doctor to show appreciation. That was when I remembered the note the nurse gave me before I left the hospital. I remembered how I tore the note when my mum was commenting cynically about the doctor on our way home. I remembered the doctor’s handsome face, his smooth skin, chocolate complexion and his sonorous voice that’s just like a lady’s. I was standing in front of the nurse perplexed, worried and gambling right inside my heart. <br />After some minutes of deep reflection, I asked the nurse the most important question.<br />“Is Wale single?”<br />“Yes, he is. He is a very responsible person and very intelligent too,” she replied.<br />“I’ll think about it,” I told her and left the hospital.<br /><br />When I got home, I couldn’t sleep. I was just thinking about this guy. I was scared not to fall for a guy like Gbenga who turned a bad-boy overnight, but I really wanted somebody in my life. I wanted a shoulder to learn on. I was really thinking deep until I dozed off. When I woke up the next morning, I resolved to send him a text, at least to appreciate his concern over my health and thank him about the bill he picked. <br /><br />The message was as simple as possible to avoid showing any interest. As promised, he called back. We spent 30mins on phone! He told me how he went gaga when he first saw me, how he’d been daydreaming about me and how he can’t wait to be my ‘love’. It was the sweetest moment for me, as I fell in love after hearing this guy’s sweet voice and plans.<br /><br />I discovered that we had almost everything in common. My dad died when I was 10years old; his parents died when he was very young. He lived with his grandmother who trained him up to university level. The grandmother died last year. We were born the same month; we are products of same school (he did his first and second degree at UNILAG where I am currently rounding off my studies). He loves eating beans and plantain which is also my favourite food. Interestingly also, we are both bloggers.<br /><br />At 30, Wale has an intimidating record. He left secondary school with the highest result in Oyo State in 1993 and the 10th best UME result in Nigeria in 1994. Of course, that was the best result in Oyo State. He gained admission into University of Lagos on scholarship and graduated with a first-class honours in a science related course. Then he went for Medicine and Surgery for his second degree. He served at a private hospital in Surulere, before securing a permanent employment in this top Ikeja hospital where I met him. <br /><br />I got carried away by these achievements. I did not know when I told him YES after the third date. <br /><br /><br />……………….<br />*Wale here is not the doctor’s real name.Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-69820878120169849482008-11-04T06:01:00.000-08:002008-11-04T06:18:34.236-08:00Drama in Hospital<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VFb_7g7L1nb-WpcyLBtp0yaMSofKfGcWYu1TBsNg8qMNGFkQNf5U7-B8gZhhbPm1MN5YpvjqMEuAW7WvzHrn4Qab7_tpVXU4Z3L3fpDwXeHd4ci4KeBmrvlU4tee2MvqyaZ4xYwWLDQ/s1600-h/rym.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VFb_7g7L1nb-WpcyLBtp0yaMSofKfGcWYu1TBsNg8qMNGFkQNf5U7-B8gZhhbPm1MN5YpvjqMEuAW7WvzHrn4Qab7_tpVXU4Z3L3fpDwXeHd4ci4KeBmrvlU4tee2MvqyaZ4xYwWLDQ/s320/rym.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264806277402961218" /></a><br />I’d been very ill lately. I was diagnosed of typhoid fever. Certainly, it was the stress and enjoyment I had two weeks ago that culminated in the sickness. I really overstressed myself and of course I paid dearly for it. The most memorable part of the scenario however was not the sickness part but the ‘drama’ that happened at the hospital. It was very funny, that’s why I called it drama. <br /><br /><em>Sit back, relax and enjoy my story…</em><br /><br /><strong>The Stress</strong><br />It started two weeks ago when my boss forced me to work for 48 hours non-stop. My boss (a crazy whiteman) is only interested in whatever brings cash, and I know that for sure. I wouldn’t blame him on the other hand because we had a very challenging job to handle and I was the most competent hand to handle the job. I am the only professional left in the small firm since three of our most experienced members of staff left two months ago. I had to shoulder the responsibility, though it also came with a very hot, juicy package.<br />“We had sacrificed two months for you to write your exams so you have no choice but to commit your time to this project. We must not fail in doing this job Wande. You know the kind of trust our clients have in us,” my boss said patting my back.<br />Of course, I know there is no need for him to persuade me. I must do the job because I have no choice. I had to carry the burden of working from Thurday night to Sunday afternoon non-stop and without rest. I accepted the proposal at the expense of a date I had with a new toaster.<br />Looking back, I know I owe the company a lot. First, I was employed only with an OND and a certified membership of NIMN and placed ahead of first degree holders. Second, I was given a permanent ‘student status’ that enables me to go to school while still working. And recently, I was allowed a ‘two-month with pay’ grace to write my exams in spite of the fact that I had already taken my sick leave and some other bonuses. For these reasons, I chose to work extra miles and landed in the hospital.<br /><br /><strong>The Fear</strong><br />My illness started with sneezing, coughing, vomiting, catarrh, and the big one, diarrhea. My mum was scared; she thought I was pregnant. She kept asking me “when did you see your period last.” I was very furious. How can she ask that kind of question in the presence of my elder sisters? I was really mad at her.<br />I tried to use different drugs but nothing happened. So, I had no choice but to go to the hospital. <br /><br /><strong>Randy Doctor</strong><br />The doctor on duty was this crazy chap that was just staring at my cleavage. He was just caressing my body stylishly while examining me physically. I wonder why he wanted to see my stomach when I complained of diarrhea. I guess it’s because my mum asked him to carry out a pregnancy test first. I later did the test and was confirmed negative. I was a little bit scared when the randy doctor was trying to pull my legs.<br />To my greatest surprise, my mum told me that she learnt the doctor has paid my bill. I was equally angry. What was the intention of the randy doctor? I was about leaving when a nurse walked up to me and gave me an envelop. I tore it open and saw a note addressed to me, of course by the same doctor. The content says:<br /><br /><em>Hi Yewande,<br />I can't take my eyes off you since the very day I<br />saw you. I will like to be your best friend. Pls,<br />text your number to (his phone number). I'll call<br />immediately,<br />Doctor Wale</em> (not his real name)<br /><br />At least to appreciate his kind gesture, i sent a message to his phone. He called immediately as promised and that was how we met. <br /><br />...I'll update with more gists as event unfolds. Thank God I am now fully back on my feet.Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-68149566452912427462008-10-24T01:52:00.000-07:002008-11-04T07:47:43.090-08:00Partying after Exams<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSN_2UgoaUdZEhq8Jdb5feBr5nKp3XdiZ01qXIVdLOjsKaeeeKaMwIxvsO5pHPXgovwHQ7mXDpBB6iPgpJhiAvEnrvdwdvvAKaKeMOxD9rwbZPHjYXnMBvs0VsV3rCGvM6mPs56NBtpgg/s1600-h/15+(1).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSN_2UgoaUdZEhq8Jdb5feBr5nKp3XdiZ01qXIVdLOjsKaeeeKaMwIxvsO5pHPXgovwHQ7mXDpBB6iPgpJhiAvEnrvdwdvvAKaKeMOxD9rwbZPHjYXnMBvs0VsV3rCGvM6mPs56NBtpgg/s320/15+(1).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260660982597343314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVIm2vWL6FyKbeqwG1AJ2_9YjDY6WlU4nIm8wMCpQcz_OuUMV6pRj3qm__Xh_5RvS-zry8kP177wKLTqXlD6qhj2lZBxhxAJcUT3q_k5iOrQdmUz_r0ofiMbvBPvBw1RpM0cUFsrJ7x8/s1600-h/15.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVIm2vWL6FyKbeqwG1AJ2_9YjDY6WlU4nIm8wMCpQcz_OuUMV6pRj3qm__Xh_5RvS-zry8kP177wKLTqXlD6qhj2lZBxhxAJcUT3q_k5iOrQdmUz_r0ofiMbvBPvBw1RpM0cUFsrJ7x8/s320/15.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260660984043623218" /></a><br />…the party we had after exams. <br /><br />It was a way of unwinding after lots of ‘hardwork’ in school. There is nothing as good as relaxing after stress. <br /><br />Writing exams in a school like Unilag is a very tedious task. It is not the exam proper that frightens students; it is the exam process and protocols. I don’t know why school officials are just insensitive to students’ plights. Nobody cares about the student and nobody is interested in knowing whether the policies are favourable for the students or not. But why do we do this? You have to be very vigilant because the department can change the time arrangement or venue of your exam in less than 15 minutes. Nothing is so absolute; everything changes like water in a river! <br /><br />I remember a paper I missed (one of my carry-overs) narrowly during the exams. The first draft of the exam time table says ‘paper commences 4pm’, but unknown to me the second draft which was released few hours to exams stated otherwise. The particular paper was shifted backward to 8.30am. I was still sleeping in my room (off-campus hostel) when my phone rang and learnt they’ve started exams. I didn’t wait to take my bath. I drove like a mad girl to school and almost knocked down an okada rider in the process. It was when I got into the class that I remembered that I didn’t pick my ID card, Exam Docket, biro and calculator. Thank God that the invigilator, Dr. Chris, is my “padi”. I had to “giraffe” through out that exam. Remembering all these school experience usually makes me want to ‘enjoy’ myself.<br /><br />Let me not digress, we had a party to celebrate our accomplishments. It was a fun-filled one. I enjoyed it, and still look forward to more of it.Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-879190395457374682008-10-15T07:30:00.000-07:002008-10-15T08:19:52.413-07:00Departmental Week<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB5hwb2Yh60ynNY5eKgv9LbTUmWfgchTP2IrsFN4RT6q6_fBDcLXbcR_bmtOoQSJvYG1k8R3qVKxfmMzOtb29D6HAnNpfq4DIwRgmQ3vYAMt_Pn_uiAF5uD8ntasiwgszxGywPAZTZr8/s1600-h/n1403555212_30048896_3387.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257388385583665154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB5hwb2Yh60ynNY5eKgv9LbTUmWfgchTP2IrsFN4RT6q6_fBDcLXbcR_bmtOoQSJvYG1k8R3qVKxfmMzOtb29D6HAnNpfq4DIwRgmQ3vYAMt_Pn_uiAF5uD8ntasiwgszxGywPAZTZr8/s320/n1403555212_30048896_3387.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Pix 1 & 2 Rag day celebration (can u spot me?)<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZq7mU7MU-K-asn73pAfWtq9coQG3AP9cCpodANd2XCcyUoexKTL1izBWYxZLqhGSJkUL8W2S_BA16QNM4xDsYBz_G4xACThb3YQK3GuYw6uinWPREZuwPE2pMI7gPa1brJbzsz_0-lmw/s1600-h/n1403555212_30048898_4005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257388386207470738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZq7mU7MU-K-asn73pAfWtq9coQG3AP9cCpodANd2XCcyUoexKTL1izBWYxZLqhGSJkUL8W2S_BA16QNM4xDsYBz_G4xACThb3YQK3GuYw6uinWPREZuwPE2pMI7gPa1brJbzsz_0-lmw/s320/n1403555212_30048898_4005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Our departmental week was a huge success. It was a big way to celebate our promotion to 400level (<em>Do you think it is easy?</em>). For somebody like me, it was a very challenging one. I went through hell trying to combine school with a part-time work I do. It was vey tedious, I must commend myself for the bravery. I must commend myself for burning so much candles in the middle of the night, yet getting only few Cs and Es to show for it. My first semester result was really bad. 4 carry-overs! And I had 2 carry-overs the previous one, so I had to struggle for 6COs if I must grad. <em>These lecturers are wicked!</em> </div><div> </div><div>Well, life goes on. We mustn't kill ourself because we want to read. And for the little we've achieved, we need to rejoice. That was the idea behind our dept-week. We had a rag-day, a 'suya nite', pool party and finally an award nite.</div><div> </div><div>The Rag day caleberation is one of the most memorable events I participated in during my jambite days. For your info, I've spent 3 and 1/2 years in school and the sojourn was really challenging (No thanks to ASUU strike, student unrests and sky-rocketing school fees that added not just extra months but extra burdens). Of course, students will always relax, gyrate and navigate. To celebrate our elevation to the final lap, we decided to stage a 'rag-day' celebration (pls don't call us <em>agbaya</em>).</div><div> </div><div><strong>The Rag</strong></div><div>The event started with a rag demonstration. Everybody came to school with 'rags' (not really the one you use to clean the floor). We called it 'colour-riot' mode of dressing. This is just to show that we are rejoicing. Our rag-day was a different ball game, not the type that students run on the street begging for alms. We were singing and dancing around campus for the whole day in our crazy outfits. </div><div>One guy actually dressed like Denrele of Sound City (Sure you know him). It was just fun galore, we enjoyed it. </div><div> </div><div><strong>Suya Nite</strong></div><div>At the back of the Arts Block, we had a small 'suya' party. There was enough to eat and drink. We slaughtered an "ewure" and prepared it in form of suya and perper soup. It was <em>oh lalah!</em></div><div> </div><div><strong>Pool Party</strong></div><div>After the whole walk, we finally unwinded at a pool side. It was a big swimming party in a top-spot in Ikeja. We had unlimited fun. A friend of mine got drunk at the event. She fell inside the swimming pool while dancing but was quickly rescued. That was the most funny part of the pool party.</div><div> </div><div><strong>Dinner/Award Nite</strong></div><div>The last day of our paper was the dinner/award nite. It was a nice of class. I went to the event with my new gown. <em>Don't worry I will upload pictures asap</em>. The most memorable part was that I got an award. I was voted the "Best Gossip" in the department. Its an achievement <em>jo</em>! </div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-91580797280925720962008-10-03T04:20:00.000-07:002008-10-03T04:27:23.952-07:00Who is to Blame?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4cIerxc9DsoYS-1MRSjWRHI8VVR51JUI3crYZg2fuANUhtB8QX19CktyY-xACgiUse6S4GOD87Jzb7tINfReBFbkTbJpJ9J6Lc3LtGfySMT0OsfAol8x9rQFZbbUsNlqn5qAFhgS3M4/s1600-h/sober.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252886238939293378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4cIerxc9DsoYS-1MRSjWRHI8VVR51JUI3crYZg2fuANUhtB8QX19CktyY-xACgiUse6S4GOD87Jzb7tINfReBFbkTbJpJ9J6Lc3LtGfySMT0OsfAol8x9rQFZbbUsNlqn5qAFhgS3M4/s320/sober.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;">A</span>s I listened to her history, I felt a strong jerk down my spine. A strong feeling of compassion ran through my whole system. I was trembling yet giving her courage. I forced myself to remain calm. Wura’s face was laced with tears as she recalls her beginning. She was highly depressed. I felt guilty of making her unhappy; the culpability of forcing her to remember her ugly past dawned on me though it was really for the right reason. Who really is Wura?<br /><br />I met her at Obalende bus-stop last week Monday (the eve of <em>Sallah</em>). Clad in an over-sized round-neck top and a faded jean trouser, this averagely built lady with <em>right</em> figure-8 structure was in front of a loading danfo bus. She was partially beckoning to people to enter the bus and discussing with some uniformed <em>agbero</em> NURTW workers whose business it is to regulate the loading of commercial buses. Her intimidating physique and natural beauty (though she was not wearing any make-up) attracted me. I knew instantly that the face is similar. “I know this person,” I thought inaudibly. I left the apple stand to catch a full glimpse of this relatively familiar person. I’d wanted to buy apple before I go back to see a friend inside a shopping complex close to Obalende bus-stop where I parked my car.<br /><br />I moved closer to verify what I was thinking. “Could she really be someone I know” I kept wondering. When I moved closer, I noticed the driver of the vehicle giving the lady instruction to collect N150 from every passenger. The man was complaining that what they made from the last trip was less than the normal income, and this lady pleaded that she will adjust. To impress her boss, she shouted on top of her voice, “<em>Ajah enter o! Just two more chance to go. Ajah N150!”<br /></em><br />I was stunned. Could that lady be the conductor? I approached her. When I got closer to her, I realized the biggest shock of my life. This lady conductor was my best friend in primary and Junior Secondary School. She is Wuraola, the daughter of a rich business mogul in Surulere. When she saw me, she felt ashamed and drew me to a corner. We hugged and exchanged pleasantries. It was a joyful moment seeing my best friend in school. However, it was saddening to see her in that condition. I quickly told her to excuse herself from the garage. We located a nearby fast-food joint and started story telling.<br /><br /><em>This is Wura’s story……</em><br /><br />Wura’s father died shortly before our JSCE exams. That was the time she left school. She was the only child of the parents and was barely 12 when the incident happened. Realizing this weakness, the paternal family members sent her mum packing claiming that she killed her husband. They seized all her father’s estates and neglected them. The mother left the house without a pin.<br /><br />It was this experience that caused the high-blood pressure that killed Wura’s mother. After her death, Wura had no other option but to stay with his maternal uncle who also had 6 children to cater for and 2 external relations. Living then became difficult. She determined never to trace her paternal relatives.<br /><br />After struggling to complete her Senior School Certificate (SSCE) without making the necessary papers, Wura’s uncle who used to be very supportive of her career was involved in an accident and was relieved of his work despite pleading with the management. Wura had to hawk ‘pure water’ and ‘gala’ on the expressway to raise money for her GCE and NECO, which she eventually passed with straight As. Though she wanted to further her education, nobody was ready to help. Even if she struggles to pay the tuition fees, what about other running expenses in the university? She was really confused and thus shelved the idea of schooling.<br /><br />She started selling ‘rice and stew’ for casual labourers and building contractors around Iyana-Ipaja. It was during one of the trading outings that she was raped by a hit-and-run worker. She tried all her best to locate the guy but everything was in vain. The pregnancy resulted in an issue christened “Feyipitan”. The boy is now 2years old.<br /><br />Obviously, life became too difficult for Wura after the birth of the baby, as that meant an extra responsibility. Besides, the emotional trauma she carries around is enough to make her sad. She therefore vowed to succeed by all means. So, she started first as a cleaner to raise money to buy baby food and other sundry expenses. With this, she also registered for a part-time OND programme at a private polytechnic in Lagos. So, to support the meager income from the cleaning job, she decided to be a bus conductor. She does this half-a-day and does the cleaning job very early in the morning or late in the night. Now she is in ND II and the baby is also in a private school.<br /><br />………….<br /><br />After hearing her story, I had a sober reflection. I prayed and prayed harder, first for her to break the jinx and also for myself to remain up there. But inside me I still wonder about the condition of life of my childhood friend. Who is to blame for all these woes that happened just within 10 years? Is it the father who died prematurely, the family members who neglected Wura and her mother, the uncle who could not send her to school, the worker who raped her and absconded into thin air or Wura herself?<br /><br />Whichever way, I know God is not to blame.<br /><br /> </div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-20793715451356881842008-09-24T06:11:00.000-07:002008-09-24T06:31:01.904-07:00MUST WE DO IT?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIK6vK92iUQvQjLaOB1xRuBsxYuEGNarZdhGFxDOZPOegJEd1OgUL9tx0b_RcoDNb9B1ruCOphJGQqmdvp-2fl7dKtqcglutJ8RmINJqj6KqbL4A2xw5dDoQ7gatCmBaE1QhpBqdJPJM/s1600-h/Copy+of+PICT3772.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249576527726589938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIK6vK92iUQvQjLaOB1xRuBsxYuEGNarZdhGFxDOZPOegJEd1OgUL9tx0b_RcoDNb9B1ruCOphJGQqmdvp-2fl7dKtqcglutJ8RmINJqj6KqbL4A2xw5dDoQ7gatCmBaE1QhpBqdJPJM/s320/Copy+of+PICT3772.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">pix: cross section of people present at a party held in Lag recently. The first two from left are my friends.</span></em><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span></strong>s it really true that we are the architects of our troubles? Why do we always do things that eventually inconvenient us? Must we do it! Must we go to that party half-naked? Must we date our friend’s <em>boyfi</em>? Must we hang around him eventhough it is crystal clear he’s got a life-partner? Must we pretend we don’t love him though we had sleepless nights because of this same person? Why must we do those things?<br /><br /><em>The questions are endless…<br /></em><br />I wonder why people deliberately cause havoc for themselves. I wonder why we cannot learn how to comport ourselves. I wonder why we dress scandalously. I wonder why we lie even when the situation doesn’t require it.<br /><br />Why do we like to live like the other person?<br /><br />Why do we drop honest comments only as an ANONYMOUS blogger?<br /><br />Must we show off our curvy regions to attract the right people?<br /><br />Why do we think innocent-looking girls are <em>cheap</em> and ward-spraying guys are <em>mungu</em>?<br /><br />These were the questions that raced through my mind after reading LINDA IKEJI’s blogposts of 14/09/08 and 15/09/08. I still cannot come to terms with so many things we do everyday.<br /><br />Sincerely, why do we do these things?<br /><br />I’m sure you’re wondering why I am going philosophical. Its because of an experience a friend shared with me yesterday. I discovered that I am also guilty of the same crime, that’s why I am reflecting on it to ease the burden in my heart.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-83586681617382858082008-09-23T02:04:00.000-07:002008-09-23T02:50:51.531-07:00Can I Date Him?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPN0-S0VDte9k8dLPNnKrJr4F8bILw0TFcdjKY1G_WURtGocmzDuE512DJjvUcfkBISEGpf777-Pn_0PYuVolwkGkhnCnDkKBUmYCJzSXf0br_u6UjyC-7lWlR8KaDcmpnee6tO9UABj4/s1600-h/316_5176.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249150608974673170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPN0-S0VDte9k8dLPNnKrJr4F8bILw0TFcdjKY1G_WURtGocmzDuE512DJjvUcfkBISEGpf777-Pn_0PYuVolwkGkhnCnDkKBUmYCJzSXf0br_u6UjyC-7lWlR8KaDcmpnee6tO9UABj4/s320/316_5176.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong>Can I Date Him?<br /></strong><br />Sorry I didn’t update for a long time. I’d been so busy. I’m currently writing exams. I’ve been going through hell this examination period. I registered 24 units (that’s 12 courses) comprising out 6 carry-over and 5 core courses that I must pass if really I must graduate next year. The only elective course I am writing is the one I am good at. The thought of the slim chance I have to pass these courses alone send shock through my whole system each time anybody ask me of my studies. I must confess that I’ve never had a nice time since I gained admission 3 years ago. It’s been one trouble to another, one carry-over to another, one lecturer-‘wahala’ to another. Ha! I’m fed up.<br /><br /><strong>The pix</strong><br />My friends. I took this picture when we hung out at a party. We were at that party few days to our exams.<br /><br /><strong>9ice’s Dream</strong><br />Three weeks after, I am yet to forget my DREAM of 9ice. I still remember vividly how excited I felt that day after I woke up, and how disappointed I was too.<br />“You shouldn’t have interrupted my sleep!” I shouted at my friend.<br />“Sorry to disturb you my dear, you can go back to sleep. I was only considering your plight, if not I won’t bother to disturb you. Remember you have 6 carry-over courses to do this semester,” my best friend and only roommate told me.<br />I saw the genuineness in her face. She’s really concerned about my plight. She loved me, and she doesn’t hide it. That’s why I also try as much as possible to reciprocate by showering her with love. After all, one good turn deserves another.<br /><br /><em>Meanwhile, I have this guy disturbing me and I think it will be better for my friends on ‘blogsphere’ to advise on what to do…</em><br /><br />I met this guy at a party I attended few days to the commencement of our second semester exams that we’re still writing. I was in company of my friends (3 of them) and he also came to the venue with his friends. I met him first at the entrance when he was trying to buy drinks through the vending machine. The machine ‘swallowed’ his money and he had no physical cash left to buy the drink. We gave him one of the extra drinks we bought and left. Later he came back to appreciate our gesture and was also trying to be friendly (you know guys now). He got one of my friend’s phone number after the 15minutes chat and left. We were even gisting that Bola (my friend) will be hooked. But to my greatest surprise, this guy called me two days after. Obviously, he got my number from my friend.<br /><br />After the first call, the guy started sending me gifts and showing too much care. He calls at least 8 times in a day. At a time I asked his how he recharge his phone. “Your worth is more than the card,” he always says anytime I ask him. Problems I foresee however are that:<br /><strong><br />He is Yahoo<br /></strong>This guy is a big time yahoo-boy. I discovered this through his life style. You know, a guy without a regular lifestyle; he uses 3 powerful Nokia phones, a tyte laptop and a customized car. He hangs around club and doesn’t care about his studies. He is always on phone with one oyinbo lady or South African friend. And his wallet will be filled with crispy dollar note. <em>Abeg, I dey fear EFCC o!<br /></em><br /><strong>He is used to Show-Off<br /></strong>Another thing about this guy is that he is used to show-off. I never see this kind person before. We went to Silverbird Galleria to catch fun. We ran into a ditch on our way and had a flat tyre. Instead of this guy to jack the car up and replace the tyre with the extra, he called his friend at home to bring another car to pick us. We had to wait inside a fast-food outlet for the 1hr 30minutes that it took the friend to show up. I was really mad at him not only because of the time we wasted but because the guy wasn’t showing originality. What does it take to change a flat tyre? The fact is that I don’t appreciate fake people. Of course, I change my tyre myself when I experience a flat tire. So, what’s the big deal?<br /><br /><strong>Ladies Flock around Him</strong><br />The biggest challenge I foresee is too many ladies around this guy. He is tied to so many people he cannot even handle. Though he tries as many as possible to show commitment to me, I still see myself running into a trouble if I allow him have my heart. He receives too many calls and SMS from ladies.<br /><br />I am confused now that my exam is coming to an end. I promised him we’ll talk better after my papers so that I will have enough time to think about it. Now I have just 3 days left and my heart is already aching. No doubt, I want the guy, but I feel it’s not going to work because of the obstacles on ground. It’s just inevitable that the relationship may crumble. Besides, does he deserve my heart? Can I date him?<br /><br /><em>Somebody,</em> <strong>PLS ADVISE.</strong></div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-91469244981667816162008-09-03T08:13:00.000-07:002008-09-03T08:52:47.900-07:00My Date with 9ice<strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">“</span></strong>Can I join you angel,” was what I heard. It was an enticing voice with a persuasive tone. I turned back to see who is making this request. It turned out to be a guy with an intimidating physique. Yeah, very intimidating! He’s 6’1 tall, dark in complexion, lovely face with 1-1 tribal mark (the <em>Egba </em>type), neat and hairy, and averagely slim. He was putting on a T-Shirt with an inscription “Don’t Tell Your Mum When You Get Home” on a jean trouser, and a pair of sandal. He looked simple, neat and enticing. I couldn’t resist him. His face looked familiar. I started thinking and discovered he’s the RnB King – 9ice.<br /><br />Can it be 9ice? I looked at him again, and again. It was 9ice – the reigning Hip Hop star that performed for Mandela recently in London. The same guy won 3 awards at Hip Hop World Award, and also has different nominations in his kitty. He is <strong>Abolore Adigun Alapomeji Akande</strong>! <br /><br />“Why not? You can join me,” I replied while still observing him. I noticed he was holding a Black Berry phone and consciously dangling a key (It was a car key). I watch him carefully as he takes a sit close to me. Then I asked him “Are you 9ice?”<br /><br />“Yes. I’m 9ice,” he said while trying to settle down on a sit beside me. “So what are you doing here. Are you not going for class” he asked and I replied promptly, “I am reading for some carry-over courses I’m rewriting this semester. That’s why I am here to read.”<br /><br />We started gisting and before you say Jack Robinson, we’ve became acquainted like old friends. At exactly 6pm, we left the Lagoon Front for the Arts Block. We stayed there for another 30minutes before we finally left for our various hostels. He covered his face with a cap to prevent people from discovering him. Of course, we exchanged numbers. He called me three times that day before I slept.<br /><br /><strong>DAY2</strong><br />We met at the MTN Reference Library beside the Main Auditorium. He came there in company of five guys. He introduced them as ID Cabassa, Sayo, Ade, Tunde (his PA) and Konga (another known artiste). He told me they’re going for a show and will be back the next day. He called me 4 times again that day. <br /><br /><strong>DAY3<br /></strong>We went to watch a film show at the Main Auditorium. It was a film produced by Kunle Afolayan, titled “Irapada” (Redemption). The movie is a classical one with an interesting story line. From the logical arrangement to coherent plot outline and quality diction to flawless narrative pattern, the film stands out. I really enjoyed it.<br />We laughed and laughed until the end of the movie. The film took almost all of our evening that day, as we were still at the auditorium till 8pm. After the film, I announced my intention to go back to the hostel and was ready to go.<br /><br />“We need to talk,” 9ice said. “Let’s go inside the auditorium.” I followed him and we sat inside the hall. It was just two of us in the big hall. We sat face to face, looking deep into each other’s face. I noticed he was also stylishly staring at my cleavage, but I didn’t budge. For 5 minutes, he was staring at me speechlessly without uttering a word. I became nervous. Our (both of us) tension heightened, as the place became very silent. No noise, except for his heartbeat. I felt his pause breaking and his throat drying up. I was also tensed myself, but still in full control of my head.<br /><br />“What do you want to say,” I broke the silence.<br /><br />Instead of speaking, he came closer. He drew me closer and held my cheeks in his palms. Then he touched my lips, caressing it softly while saying some rubbish that I couldn’t comprehend. Then he straightened my neck and shoot out his neck, wanting to balance his lips with mine. As his lips reached mine…I woke up.<br /><br />“Yewande, are you not going for lectures?” I heard the voice of my best friend and room mate, Laide.<br /><br />“Oh God! It was a dream.” <em>Gongo ti so! </em>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-73466819759049349822008-09-02T08:10:00.000-07:002008-09-02T08:16:08.403-07:00Parties I attended<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1hrbdEL-uAa_GhyphenhyphenssSJZgLbNBdMVElVw3S5MvU0qHyDPHS1l8B85F_EhMM3oTL47Mz7ww0z7txoEiA04q6NgPOoNfTGQBXdJpv4RlzUb9sW-Z4rDBGbxkzzH1FdIL6Hq2j5Pe1aP6c0/s1600-h/soundcity.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241442104049717074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1hrbdEL-uAa_GhyphenhyphenssSJZgLbNBdMVElVw3S5MvU0qHyDPHS1l8B85F_EhMM3oTL47Mz7ww0z7txoEiA04q6NgPOoNfTGQBXdJpv4RlzUb9sW-Z4rDBGbxkzzH1FdIL6Hq2j5Pe1aP6c0/s400/soundcity.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div>This is my best pix of the week. 9ice (I love this guy) and friends!</div><div></div><div>I am angry, lonely and happy. Why? It’s because of my experience. Let me acquaint you with a little of my background… My June and July were really terrible, starting with a hot quarrel with my old friend (a guy who called himself my boyfriend for 2 years). It was a sweet-bitter experience. Why? I wanted to be with him, but still cannot continue with a guy like Gbenga. He is just too arrogant for my liking. Of course, I accepted him into my life after pestering me for months with the hope that he’s going to change one day. But instead of turning a new leaf, my friend became the baddest ‘bobo’ in Lagos. He jumps from one club to another (that’s not really a problem because we usually hang out together), and started smoking overnight (I got pissed off with this). Gbenga was consuming 1 packet of cigarette in less than 24 hours!<br />The sister got to know and was like ‘Yewande what did you do to him?’ I got fed up of the whole thing and had to take that decision. Now I am so lonely (not searching o!) lol.<br />I know blogging will keep me busy and in no time I’ll forget about him.<br /><br />Meanwhile, let me brief you of some events I attended within July-August.<br /><br />ROCK DA MIC<br />This one was a show put up by the rap-sensational, Asha (the US guy, not the solo queen). It was held at Options Nite Club at Ikeja. It had so many artiste in attendance. I got to the venue late (in company of Bayo Adetu of PMNEWS) and later left for another show in VI.<br /><br />FASHION SHOW<br />Linda Ikeji’s fashion show. It was a powerful one held at Golden Gate Resturant, Ikoyi. It had so many dignitaries in attendance. Role call: KC Presh, Cossy Orjiakor, Zacky Adzee, Mojo Lexy-eyes, etc.<br /><br />FACET AWARDS<br />It was held inside the cosy Afe Babalola Hall, University of Lagos, Akoka. It was a nite of bliss with so many crème-de la-crème in the entertainment circuit. Role call: ID Cabassa and crew, Vaughn, Mimmy Tea, Ruggedman, J Drama, JEFF, MC Ice Water, J’Bright, etc. After party was done at K’s Place (Club Papas), VI. It was a sweet one, I met Seun Kuti and Jimy Jatt @ the after party.<br /><br />OLU MAINTAIN BASH<br />This one was a classical bash to introduce the Olu Maintain crew. It was held inside Eko Hotels and Suites, VI. Olu just they show himself for that party. Yahoozee! Role call: Olu Maintain, DJ Zeez, Frank Papas, Shina Oyetayo, Ayo Lawal, Sunday Encomium, etc.<br /><br />MISS UNILAG<br />It was done at the Sports Centre of Unilag with so many pretty chics and handsome guys. Some known artiste also attended. The sweet gist, I met a fine guy at this event and we’re now best of friends (I’ll gist you about him later).<br /><br />JENNY’S B’DAY<br />She is a popular Unilag student with a class. She’s also a model, actress and fast rising make-up artiste. She did her b’day bash at a garden in Ojota (the place is a popular celebrity hangout but I don’t want to advertise). So, many Nollywood stars in attendance.<br /><br />Then the last one…<br /><br />PEAK AWARDS<br />This one is an award of Unilag student. It was done at a popular event centre in Agidingbi, Lagos. Artistes also flooded the event.</div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6277081376858906097.post-65480052078805512632008-09-02T07:20:00.000-07:002008-09-02T07:35:27.256-07:00INTRODUCTION<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalaoB2hft80BuJbIWf_TrTu5pzmWWdD18U5e5eA3ImLMaIhwOicUumWTSOHmJ_wHxaYKVLg5JHcGKGa6rlvV6OWnNMqjFp4syB-fFdL7exUHDqQb_xhSsYEYJisxDd5chBfkfLwqReWc/s1600-h/me1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241432276141169170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalaoB2hft80BuJbIWf_TrTu5pzmWWdD18U5e5eA3ImLMaIhwOicUumWTSOHmJ_wHxaYKVLg5JHcGKGa6rlvV6OWnNMqjFp4syB-fFdL7exUHDqQb_xhSsYEYJisxDd5chBfkfLwqReWc/s320/me1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcfNOTblYIQYvQayUIkCtPLMpL4Kl9hC0n2rOMHJd8t5A-PQyaLrc2UjidWdE75IO5V7FKbh4axmJG8dOSeMREfaICtUVyTqJtdSelr0YgyL0Fua4ZTwtnY6HqMuvT-Q5sp9Ar1iv3PA/s1600-h/me2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241432275322628258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcfNOTblYIQYvQayUIkCtPLMpL4Kl9hC0n2rOMHJd8t5A-PQyaLrc2UjidWdE75IO5V7FKbh4axmJG8dOSeMREfaICtUVyTqJtdSelr0YgyL0Fua4ZTwtnY6HqMuvT-Q5sp9Ar1iv3PA/s320/me2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3DxhQSiHWeMwkXEJEl1DoiORFDZ06TBjVlsjjD_tu6uqCaR8TyBVLyd9hcsBGbMKc09JpltBUoVevnIg18rPOFYuiFRTLw3Hk9KqwtFbebl8aWv_awy1E3TmLWi95GSKh_TECTj_vA4/s1600-h/me3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241432279872587666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3DxhQSiHWeMwkXEJEl1DoiORFDZ06TBjVlsjjD_tu6uqCaR8TyBVLyd9hcsBGbMKc09JpltBUoVevnIg18rPOFYuiFRTLw3Hk9KqwtFbebl8aWv_awy1E3TmLWi95GSKh_TECTj_vA4/s320/me3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Waoh! Is it this easy to be a blogger?</div><br /><div>I'd visited thousands of blogs and kept wondering how to start mine. I ver knew it could be this easy. Nevertheless, thank God for everything.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This is the introduction. I will use this blog to talk about my social and sexual life (lol). Well, thanks to these people for inspiring me: Bellenaija, NYSC, lindaikeji, veraikeji, funmiiyanda, niyitabiti, facetgrapevine, tonypayne, azuhamatus, allibaba, stanstill, solafolowosele and others. I know I still need to learn from you guys, so don't hesitate to put me through anytime I call.</div><br /><div>Cheers!</div>Yewande Atandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05555756000333616642noreply@blogger.com6