Uncle Stephen Profile picture
Apr 26, 2019 49 tweets 16 min read Read on X
“...Yes we love smoking weed” Progress responded before I could say a word.

I looked at him, and he at me, as if to say “baba calm down”

To cement his words, he took it, puffed and passed to me.

I took a drag and I knew, damn! Wahala have get me

Brethren,
Issa thread..
I was in Ajegunle.

I had gone to my Aunt’s place during the school holidays. Dà Chioma, my Aunt, would do you well when returning to school if you helped out at her bar.

Sometimes I was unofficial DJ, sometimes I served drinks.

I generally helped out, however I could.
Her Bar at Second Mosholashi attracted all sorts.

From the Rasta who could speak patois better than Jamaicans even though he had never left AJ. To the Old soldier never die, who fought for the queen in Burma.

Her bar brewed with stories and my ears drank to its fill
Sometimes a crew of babes would come on a girls night out, downing their preferred lager, as helpmeet for my Aunty’s amazing peppered meat.

It was one of those nights, and I had the luck of the draw of serving them, beautiful women alladem, who flirted with me incessantly
My Aunty’s eagle eye, prevented any of myself or my cousins from flirting while on duty.

“Tuck in your libido. E don Dey show. Comot am for my market” she would say if she noticed any untoward behavior.

And if it didn’t cease, you’ll be sure to get a spanking.
I didn’t want a spanking, cos my aunty na “strong meat” as they say in AJ.

After doing bar business for over 15 years, encountering several characters, she epitomized “who do anyhow go see anyhow” and “who wan collect, go chop am”

She wasn’t to be joked with
So I kept my mien professional and flirted just borderline as the babes teased and teased me.

One of them was particularly interested especially as I be fresh meat for area.

It wasn’t hard to notice I didn’t live in AJ. According to them, my pidgin English no “done” well
The babes chilled for some hours, danced, as alcohol freed their waist lines, adding to its deftness, and eventually paid their bills to leave.

My person of interest, all the while had her eyes on me.

I thought they had left, only for her to return to give a tip, then left.
I opened the N200 note that had been pressed into my hands and in it, lay a paper, blessed with her number.

Ah! Omo re bi Custard!

I saved the number, texted her ASAP because no one knows tomorrow.

She replied instantly and I felt a tingling somewhere🌚🌚🌚
If you know AJ very well, there’s always a party, always a groove, almost as if stuck living with the sometimes grim realities of the area, they took every chance to celebrate surviving one more day.

Tejiri A.K.A TBarbie as her friends called her, invited me for one
I found an excuse to give my aunt and slipped out for the hot afternoon party.

It was holding at a lounge on Baale Street.

Two streets before the venue, a young man,dressed in carrot jeans and a white polo,with darting eyes and a bag slung across his frame, approached me.
“How far, shey na the chicken feather you want?” He said in a slightly gruff voice.

I looked at him like, Chicken feather ke.

He continued. “Shey Na chick, broiler or layer feather you want?”

Curiosity got the better part of me.
Surveying the surrounding, nothing here lended itself to even considering there would be a poultry close by.

This manner of marketing chicken was definitely something I wanted to be privy of. And if it was a slang, I liked it. I’m all for growing our agro-economy.

Impressive
I requested for a broiler feather please. (Gutsy right?!)

Well, As Pete Edochie said in Avengers Endgame, either you go hard or go home.

“Ah baba! Broiler no Dey here. Come make we enter zanga. E bokun for there”

I followed him through some winding paths to the zanga
Brethren! It was the home of weed. To be honest, I Was disappointed. I really thought I had lighted on a chicken vendor and would see his farm. 🌚🌚☺️☺️

Oh well, I stood outside bought a broiler sized weed and threw it away as I headed back for the party. Need to maintain focus
TBarbie was at the gate to welcome me, I lingered in the hug of her perky breast as I peered over her shoulder to her equally proportionate behind. She smelt nice.

Inside, I met the rest of her crew GOD (girls of destiny).

That name disturbed me but I was like if I die I die.
I had barely settled into doing immoral things to the peppered chicken TBarbie had given me, as I escorted it with cold Guinness, when I heard a familiar voice.

“Stevhoe! Stevodadida Stevobabestetraoxo3acid! Stevopaparampam stevopoporompom”

Oh no! It is him!

Progress.
Progress was there, he walked towards me, cackling while I wondered how on earth did he get there. He was supposed to be at his parent’s somewhere in Obalende or so.

“Stevolosho! I just know say I go see you here. My spirit no Dey lie”

Which spirit.
Apparently one of the G.O.D girls had invited him and she was even TBarbie’s cousin.

And before I knew it, we became grouped when the babes found out that I and Progress where very good friends. Sweet coincidence as far as they were concerned.

But I was wary. Why? Progress
It was almost evening and in a few, I relaxed myself, enjoying the party and gist with the babes, believing that in no way will progress’ “unfortunateness” come to play today.

But I relaxed too soon.

They suggested we move venues to add more fire to the night’s “litness”
TBarbie and her cousin said in the most casual way “we wan enter Zanga. Make we just shine eye”

Zanga? Same Zanga? The weed palace? To shine eyes? I wanted to mention that I’d been there earlier and on the contrary it seemed it was the go to place to dim eyes. See false advert o
“Fine boys. Una no Dey kiss Na. Abi? So Una no go follow us Na”

This was a trick question. Cos woe betide me if I cannot kiss. I love kissing but not this kind of kissing. I’d somehow found myself in a kissing quandary

Progress answered for us:

WE ARE KISSERS!
And with that we arrived THE ZANGA.

Brethren, it was nothing like I’d ever seen before. There was literally a weed cloud hanging in the air. Just crossing the door and you were already high.

Different characters dotted the place, all in different states of solemnity
The G.O.D girls were at ease and after sitting us down, went round exchanging greetings as regulars do.

I spotted the poultry expert from earlier in the day, at a corner, rearing new broilers and layers, stuffing them into his bag when done.

The babes returned with a layer.
They were still unconvinced as to whether we were really going to kiss with them

They had puffed and passed between them, when progress declared our love for weed, puffed twice, and passed to me.

I puffed twice to show them that kissing comes naturally to me, in whatever form🌚
Weed like alcohol has different effects for people. For me that day, first, everything had a deeper meaning.

It wasn’t just a calendar hanging on the wall but a reminder of our time here on earth and using it to impact the world.

I felt everything differently
Even more after the 3rd kiss. The weight of the world was on my shoulder.

A tear hung at the corner of my eye, as for some reason I remembered the starving children in Somalia.

Their pain became my pain, their wailing voices echoing in my head.
In summary, be like I wan mad
At that point, redemption song by Bob Marley rent the air and I could feel the song in my red blood cells. Every instrumental, every word he sang

“Won’t you help to sing. This song of freedom” he sang

And I really wanted to help sing. Really wanted to
I was still stuck in cloud whatever wondering like bob Marley, how long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look, that I didn’t hear someone scream “eke! eke!” Before pandemonium ensued.

People ran helter shelter while I ran straight into the arms of policemen
Once a policeman hooks your trouser, forget it. You go nowhere. I tried to struggle when slap hit me “Taiiii!!!!” Clearing like two kisses of the weed I had taken, bringing me down from whatever cloud I was and planting me firmly on solid ground.

Shet!! It was hot
4 more random slaps hit the back of my head and back, as the policeman was like “fine butty like you, you sef dey kiss”

But since when is kissing a crime
Another slap reminded me of the kissing that was being talked about.

Before I could count 2 I don dey inside bus.
Inside the bus, with 2 other unfortunate people, none of which was Progress or even the G.O.D girls, (I’m guessing they used their godly power and disappeared) more slaps kissed my head.

“so you be king smoker” they kept saying.

Ah! King? I’m a servant o. Plis sir
A prayer point in this country should be to never have anything to do with a police station. Just know it’s there. Anything takes you in, much less inside cell, you’ll come out a changed person.

At the counter, they bundled the other guys straight into a cell
Me? For some reason I was asked to write statement while their slap hit my head repeatedly like “fine small boy so you wan spoil ehn”

Write statement?

For some reason only redemption songs lyrics was comimg to mind and I knew if I tried it my own would be done for
Statement written

I took off my shirt, trouser and was left with my goodluck boxers (don’t even say anything. Prior to that day every time I’ve worn it, it always ends in praise 🌚)

In no time, I was pushed into a cell with about 4 million people cramped in it
I’m not exaggerating. Nigerian cells are like whatever room you’re in, filled with 10 times it’s capacity.
In the cell, free in my mind from the wicked officers and their endless slaps, thunder landed on my face.

Tawau!!!!

“You mad? You no go hail capon?”
My eyes misted
When I received some semblance of clarity, I saw a guy sitting on one guy, flanked by two guys fanning him like a king.

Hian!

The stench of the cell felt like another slap as a mixture of sweat, faeces and tears almost brought me to my knees.
“I’m sorry” I said “ I no mean any disrespect”

The capon looked around and looking at me he said “Na me e stand up Dey follow talk”

“Angel” he shouted. “Sensitize this boy for me”

I’m an optimist.

Somewhere in my head I fully expected an orientation of sort till....
Two slaps hit me from an Angel who appeared unexpectedly. I dropped to my knees, fully sensitized.

“Mafi! give am isiewu and our welcome package”

The optimist in me nearly upped till I saw Mafi’s size. No way this guy can prepare isi ewu I can eat

Ah! Progress! I’m finished
He produced a cane. I received that and some slaps before they asked me how I got there.

I embellished the story leaving out the babes. When I mentioned my Aunty’s bar, capon said he knew her. “ he peppered meat Na die. And she dey play better jam. Oya dance for us”

You say?
I was confused. No way they could mean it. But they did.Two sensitization and DJ jimmy jatt was playing in my head.

See me rocking profusely to non existent sounds.

They were entertained and even asked me to change styles, any resistance or slacking, I get sensitized
For like 3 hours, I was grinding an imaginary TBarbie.

I did so many things that night. Frog jump, rode bicycle and fanned the capon for a bit.

I entered there slightly high but after the slaps and all I was doing, man I low like nothing
While I was fanning he shouted stop! And asked me to count from one to 1 million. I tried to protest my innocence and some more slaps hit my face.

I started counting. And it was almost as if the mosquitoes, spurred by my counting attacked non stop

My life was paining me
At the break of dawn, while I had counted up to 530k or so, I heard a policeman ask “who’s Stephen”
Hey God

I’ll never kiss again. Weed or women.

Please allow this cup pass me by
After he asked again, I said it was me and got taken to the counter where my aunt and Progress were waiting for me.

I could see her face. She was livid.
The police people had only agreed to let me go on the strength of her person “Ah! Mama! Na you o” they said repeatedly
In the bus ride home, my Aunty was quiet. Didn’t say a word to me and I dreaded what would come next.

We got home and when Progress was about to leave he said “but stevolosho! You na strong man o. So like this you don be ex convict. Your rep don high bro”

I was weak.....
Ps: My Aunty didn’t tell my parents anything and I realized later that I would have been released earlier but she wanted me to stay a bit and learn my lesson”

Which I did. Which is why till today I don’t kiss anything again. 🌚🌚

Praise the Lord.
Thanks for reading. Been a while I know.

Hope y’all enjoyed it.

It’s my birthday tomorrow the 27th April. Decided to give y’all a gift of laughter as much as I’ve gotten myself.

With Love,
Uncle Stephen

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More from @ItsUncleStephen

Jul 1, 2020
FUTO babes?!!!!

Brethren shall we?!!
I remember when we go ọta miri Bridge go rescue my cos of IMB babe..

Baba dey shout," take me take me!"

Take who werey? My friend Chop your L and drink eismann beer
Abi na for year 1 with my real man. Escorted him to town.. Baba spent his last card to buy a dress for his babe for freshers night. Dress, shoe, watch.

We reach freshers night, baba see him babe untop SUG FINSEC lap.

That's the night he picked up smoking.
Read 23 tweets
Jul 20, 2019
I have tried and still, I don't get Horror movies. Everytime I watch one, several questions, especially about the behaviour of the actors, confuses my mind, and I'm like guy! seriously, why?!

Let's consider some Why's in this horror #GuidesByStevhoe

Brethren,
Issa thread
Q1. WHY WILL I GO FOR A PARTY INSIDE HOUSE THAT'S INSIDE BUSH?

As a naija guy, I've weighed this scenario in my head several times. I don't know the thing, the reason, that'll be good enough to convince me, to go for a party overnight, in a house deep deep inside bush.

Why?
Azzin if we go to a normal club the party won't be sweet? Won't babes still grind me like fresh tomato as if to transform my nether regions into Purèe?

I've seen it happen many times in horror movies, this inside bush party thing, that I've imagined if my friend suggests such.
Read 25 tweets
Jun 23, 2019
In light of the anti substance abuse project #MTNASAP for I’m part of, I’ll share a personal story.

Addiction is really easy to get into if one isn’t careful.

A THREAD
Few things bring me joy like writing. Especially once I’d found my niche in humor writing.

The joy of knowing someone is having a good day because of stories I tell gives a warm,fuzzy feeling.

But for a long time I struggled. Felt like an impostor

Why?
I’d tried to write other genre and come short. As much as I had found my strong point in humor, it felt awkward reading moving pieces from my peers especially then on Facebook, and unable to produce same.

Worse was when I was referred to as the guy who writes funny stuff
Read 26 tweets
Jun 15, 2019
AN MCM’s GUIDE ON HOW NOT TO HANDLE BREASTS

Brethren,
Issa thread

#GuidesByStevhoe
Dear MCM, I have received messages upon messages, letters upon letters from your respective WCWs, and immediately after Dear sir, the subject of their letter, written in Red block letters is the same across board.

it reads

PLEASE SAVE OUR BREASTS.
The horrors I read in therein, is what has prompted this #GuidesByStevhoe

A particular babe even said she and her friends now call her MCM, Emma Eba.

Why?

She said the way he kneads her breast, it feels like he has egusi soup close by and will cut and dip some breasts in it
Read 27 tweets
Mar 23, 2019
Going to Lagos island market is not for the faint hearted. I must have entered almost 4000 shops today looking for a shade of burgundy material with my friend and his fiancée. Health app is saying I’ve walked just 6000 steps. Coulda sworn it’s up to 1 million.

I’m tired man.
Funny all the burgundy looked the same to me and my friend but no o, for his madam, it’s either too deep, too light, or too busy( I’m like busy doing what again chineke nnam)

And boom we’re off to another shop.

And I’m like
Then when we find the right color, price becomes the wahala.

Shop 1: it’s N5000
Shop 2: it’s N5000
Shop 4532.12 : madam it’s N5000

Friends fiancée: Let’s check the next shop

I and my friend:
Read 5 tweets
Dec 25, 2018
Babies are cute,adorable and have smiles like a thousand brilliant suns lighting up our lives.They’re wonderful.

But ah! Let’s not lie to ourselves, despite, babies and little kids have wahala, sometimes cute and sometimes making you ask Lord why?

Brethren
Issa thread
Some start disturbing right from the womb. They make their mothers crave all sorts of things.

I spent one holiday after schooling at my Pregnant Aunt Maggie’s house.

We all know this is important as a student if you want to ensure a fat wallet when returning to school
At hers, her husband once woke me up at 10:30pm while I was dreaming that I had won a 10 million Naira lottery, citing an emergency which if not solved, no one would know sleep in the house

What was the emergency?

My Aunty wanted to eat spoilt egusi soup
Read 31 tweets

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