Skip to main content

A JONI THAT SINGS

Anyone could tell he didn’t belong once he opened his mouth to sing the first line of the song “Kumbaya.” Apart from the unconscious cracks and the battle of staying on the key of C major, Joni was shaking with each breath exhaled. His legs wobbled, his hands waggled, and his eyes spoke the language of fear mixed with doubt. How shocking! He was introduced to the choir as a tenor singer from a sister church called Oasis. Unfortunately, this oasis had its lungs and throat all dried up.   Joni stopped singing from the looks on every face. By a corner, he saw the man playing the drums lift his eyebrows - not in wonder but a mechanism most people adopt to hold back laughter. The woman playing the bass guitar was looking down at nothing. As Joni’s eyes roved around the church, he saw an invisible congregation, all rising from their seats, eyes tight with laughter! The white walls were bloody-looking. Ah! Even the brown wooden cross on the altar resembled a negation. Joni felt the wo...

WEIRD INTERVIEW



WOULD YOU SELL FOOD AS A GRADUATE JUST TO SURVIVE?


My name is Prisca, a graduate of Biological Sciences with a second class upper division and I want to share my job hunting experience just after I was done with service. 
I was desperately looking for a job so I kept applying and going for every interview I was called for.
 I went for an interview not quite long ago. It was a sales manager position advertised online. I saw this as an opportunity to meet new people and be more outspoken and to network. So I applied; forwarded my CV. Afterwards I got a mail from them saying that out of the 50 people who applied for the job, I was opportune to have been selected. This made me very happy and I didn’t mind borrowing money to go for the interview at Ojota.
When I got to the location I was not sure it was the right address even though I could clearly see the house number.  I asked a lady; just to be convinced, about an interview taking place there and she replied “yes this is the place.”
Ha! To my astonishment this place was occupied by people cooking moi moi (Bean Cake), rice, beans, not in large quantities but is small coolers. This lady I had asked to help confirm the address turned out to be the person who had forwarded the interview email to me. Apparently she was with the HR team. We both went in and I was asked to wait. When she returned, she kept asking me all that was on my Cv and lastly, my pay expectations. I told her I would like to begin with 80,000 since I had no work experience. The next thing, this woman asked me to go out and tell a particular woman to fry plantain. Foolish me went to deliver the message and when I returned, Mrs. HR was introducing me to the environment:
“So Prisca, this is a job where you have to sell food. We cook food and sell at strategic points.”
UN-PACKAGED FOOD! When someone wants to buy you would have to sell with spoon and plate… I was shocked! She kept on preaching on how a cab man would pick me up and I’ll have to sell from Monday till Sunday sometimes; that’s if the food was still remaining. She said I’ll also take along with me a microwave since many people liked their food hot. Plus, I would resume by 8am for those going to work who would love to have their breakfast and close 9pm for those coming back from work and would want to buy food.
I didn’t know when tears began to drop from my eyes. I was already crying and asking God if this was what He wanted to do with my life… Would "mamaput" be my new occupation now or what? Mamaput as a job! Along the line I asked her if she read through my CV and she said yes:
“ I did. You’re Prisca and you graduated from Eboyin State University right? I remember you because my friend is from that state. You even graduated with a second class upper right?”
She knew all these and still sent me a foolish mail!!! It did not end there. This woman said I should resume work that moment: “start packaging, start covering the foods and I’ll call the cab man right away”
This was when I told her that I had to leave but would be back, out of respect for her. She said she knew that I wasn’t going to take the job and that I should just say so. She was really taking it personal so I told her I couldn’t take the job. These were my exact words…
“I can’t take this job.  I cannot be found selling food on the streets. For crying out loud I know my destination. I know it may take time getting there but I know what I want and I know where I want to be. Please ma I’m sorry but I cannot!
A Shared Experience       

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

MORALITY IN TRANSIT

It was a cool, quiet evening—one of those rare days when the city seemed to exhale. I boarded the bus home from work, grateful for the unusual calm. The vehicle was only half-full, a welcome contrast to the usual chaos of rush hour. The driver was sealed off in his little cubicle up front, and we passengers were scattered like leaves on a still pond. Among them was a man who immediately caught my eye—late 60s, wearing a crisp white cap that read ' Chosen One' in bold black letters. He was flipping through a newspaper with such frantic energy it looked like he was searching for something long lost—or perhaps arguing with the headlines themselves. Opposite him sat another older man, though you wouldn't know it from his clothes. He was dressed like a teenager—like someone clinging to relevance with both hands. Then, out of nowhere, the man in the cap spoke, loud and clear, as if addressing a courtroom rather than a quiet bus. 'Does time determine what's right or wrong...

IF HAIR COULD TALK

  “You know, I get nervous by the sight of unkempt hair” “And why’s that?” “Well, it makes me imagine the worst of the man or woman in question.” “But you can’t always have clean cut or well-made hair. It’s hard work and who has time for such beauty strife. Or why do you think Beyonce sang that beauty hurts?” “I’m not talking about beauty. Rather I mean responsibility. Bad hair must surely birth a bad day. Look, I hate seeing my wife without her hair done or at least covered. I blame it on Medusa. Should have never seen that movie, T he Clash of the Titans .” “Hahaha, that’s just cracking! Now you blame your sick theory on a movie? Buddy, your wife must be tolerating a whole lot of shit from you. Cut her some slack and leave her hair alone. If you continue shaving yours all the time, you’d be bald before you’re even 40, man.” I’ve been thinking. A thousand tongues there would be if our hair could talk. Imagine, a million heads would have a zillion tongues and more! The ...

WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR?

As the final hours of the year slide quietly away, it is only human to look back, tracing the paths of our days, sifting through moments that have shaped us. With the twilight of 2025 upon us, will you gather at a humble or grand table, surrounded by laughter, silence, or absence? Perhaps you have already counted your blessings—each one a dim light in the dark. Or maybe your mind is busy weaving hopeful blueprints for the dawn of 2026. Just the other day, I watched the children in CoComelon sing their gratitude for life’s simplest gifts—things we often overlook, absorbed as we are in our hurried routines. How easily we forget that wonder. If we slow down, just for a little time, we all have so many things to be grateful for. Even the most ordinary blessings are worth our quiet thanks. In this spirit of reminiscence, my heart swells with gratitude for more than I can name, but here are a few gifts that shine especially bright: Sanity Good health A job/craft The gift of memor...