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OPINION: The Husband Beaters Of Lagos
Published
2 years agoon
By
Editor
By Suyi Ayodele
Pray, how does a man tell his friends that his wife beat him the other day? How do men who suffer serious beatings in the hands of their wives in the day raise the wives’ skirts later at night to demand conjugal benevolence? Do such men get aroused anymore? Do they beg their wives to do what husbands and wives do? How do such men, for instance, come out of the house to go about their normal daily chores after the bashing from their women, knowing that their neighbours knew what happened? What about their children? Do those innocent souls witness such abnormality? What about their psychological make-up after witnessing their mothers descending on their fathers? While wife beating is bestial and condemnable, what do we call husband battering? Husbands get beaten up by their wives the same way wives are battered by their husbands. Domestic violence is not gender sensitive. As a matter of fact, where the victims are the men, the situation gets more vicious and brutal. The problem is that since our society is patriarchal in nature, attention is focused more on the women. Men are also endangered species in some instances!
Life couldn’t be better imagined than the quietude of a village setting. Nothing can surely be more interesting! It was fun for us then running around almost half naked and ‘prying’ into the affairs of your neighbours. The village is a place where everything about everybody is in the open. For instance, then, if a goat was stolen, the owner might not raise any alarm. Goats would not get lost until the eve of the market day. All the owner needed to do was to wake up early in the morning and lay ambush by the market road. The chances that he or she would come back home with the ‘lost’ goat was very high. We knew the man who would likely go and dig up another man’s yam. We could equally recognise those who would steal kola nuts pods and commit all sorts of little crimes. We waited for them during the annual festivals and used them to practice our guttural mock songs. One or two families ‘relocated’ permanently out of the village because of the shame their family members brought upon them. I recall here a particular man who almost attacked us when we took our derisive songs to his doorstep. The fine he paid for the sacrilege of attacking festival boys almost ran him bankrupt. I was at home this last weekend and relived those old tales with my folks at home.
There was one couple I will never forget. They were not members of our community; they came to sojourn in our place. The wife was a giant. Tall, with heavy hands and she traversed the village like a colossus. On the farm, she would outwork her husband in making heaps of yam. In contrast, the husband was just fortunate to be bigger than a midget. How he talked the woman into marrying him remains a mystery. And they had five lovely children. How did he do it? There was no doubt about the paternity of the children. Resemblance shows ancestry (abijo laa mo iran). Once you sighted any of the children, you could tell who the father was! But the family had a problem. The giant woman beat the husband at the slightest provocation. On many occasions, she needed no provocation before she would descend on the husband. As much as we found their frequent fights interesting, especially when the woman ‘landed’ the husband, I knew, even at that tender age, that something was wrong. My cradle mind told me that it was an abnormal situation. One day, the table turned. The husband regained his manliness and ‘manhood’. This is what happened.
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They were at their usual argument. The giant wife was in the backyard attending to something on the fire. The husband was in the passage of their face-me-I-face-you apartment. They were both shouting at each other. The door was closed. As the argument got hotter, the woman, in their Aramoko/Efon Alaaye variety of the Ekiti Dialect, issued the signature warning: “erun re ri a kan bee”, which when interpreted means: “I am coming over to deal with you”. In her madness, she rushed towards the house. From the passage, the man was also trying to make his escape. Thinking that her husband had bolted the door, the wife threw her entire weight to force the door open. It was at that time that the husband opened the door too. So, the woman had herself flying and landing on the floor just by her husband’s feet. She must have been badly injured as she could not get up immediately. The husband simply sat on her wide frame and started dealing blows on her. For the first time, it was the wife who raised the “haa pa mi o” (he will kill me) alarm. Of course, neighbours rushed in to see the ‘strange’ sight. Not a few encouraged the husband to continue to pummel her. The oldest of the men around also ordered some of our elderly men to join in the beating. Every blow on her was accompanied with the warning: “Han hi lu oko honi” (No woman beats her husband). Satisfied, the old man asked the assailants to stop. The woman was left on the floor weeping. Women gathered around her telling her unprintable things! It was a communal condemnation; she had no single atom of sympathy from the participants. I believed she must have wept more for the shame than the effects of the beatings. Then a pronouncement was made to the effect that anytime she was found assaulting the husband, the entire neighbourhood would teach her a lesson she would never forget. Needless to record it here that till they moved out of our village; we never heard any commotion in that family. The husband himself regained his gait. He could go to play the Ayo game without any sense of shame of being at his wife’s mercy.
Whatever doubts we might have had before now about what some husbands go through in the hands of their wives were cleared by Lagos State, a few days ago. On Saturday, September 9, 2023, PM News had this headline on its online platform: “Lagos women now beat their husbands to submission, 340 cases reported.” According to the report, the Executive Secretary, Lagos Domestic and Sexual Violence Agency (DSVA), Titilayo Vivour-Adeniyi, was quoted to have said that more cases of husband-battering were reported in the last one year. The Lagos DSVA boss gave a figure of 340 husbands coming forward to report that their wives beat them between September 2021 and July 2022. “This is an indication that the culture of silence amongst the male gender concerning issues of Sexual and Gender Based Violence is also gradually being broken”, Vivour-Adeniyi was quoted. She could not be faulted. The silent implication is that if all men who go through hell in the hands of their wives should speak out, the number will be scary. Cases of males suffering abuses in the hands of their women are likely to be higher in the Western world and its women liberation agenda. We read almost daily, cases of African men who live in the West killing their wives because they could no longer tolerate the abuses coming from those women.
The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), on March 1, 2019, did a report on “Male domestic abuse victims ‘suffering in silence’”. In the report, Dr Sarah Wallace, from the University of South-Wales (USW), gave reasons why many Domestic Violence and Abuse (DVA) was not reported, by both men and women. She listed “fear of retaliation or a lack of trust or confidence in the police”, as one of the reasons. “However, the issue of under-reporting is even more pronounced amongst men. They fear appearing unmanly, shame, embarrassment, and a failure to live up to masculine ideals. This was the experience of the men we interviewed, who felt that they needed help to get to the root of these feelings., she added. The report added that counselling sessions for male victims of domestic violence “are shorter, but also include a focus on the role of masculinity and gender stereotypes, and help validate their experience, recognising that they too can be victims of abuse. We know that DVA against men is a seriously under-reported crime, and we know that 713,000 men were reported to have been victims of one or more types of DVA. It begs the question how many more men are actually out there that are suffering in silence.”
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The international medium, in an earlier report on September 16, 2018, titled: “Male domestic abuse: Not enough support for victims, using the case of one David Edwards, who was killed by his wife weeks after their wedding, said that “Male domestic abuse victims are suffering a lack of support despite a sharp rise in attacks. Police in England and Wales recorded 149,248 incidents in 2017 – more than double the number reported in 2012. A charity organisation, the ManKind Initiative, said while a third of domestic abuse victims were men, only 0.8% of refuge beds were reserved for them. While one in six men will experience domestic abuse at some point in their lives, only one in 20 will ever seek any help, the ManKind Initiative said.” Many of the survivors interviewed, the BBC reported, said that they were too ashamed to admit that they were serially abused by their female spouses. The report concluded that husbands (men) in abusive relationships with their wives (women) need help. A lot of states in Nigeria are stepping up the fight against Gender Based Violence (GBA). All they need to do is to make the advocacy neutral. The era of women being the victims alone is gone. The new religion, especially the Pentecostal, makes the matter worse. Most pastors get beaten up before putting on their cassocks. Some hide the shame of their wives battering them behind their pastoral collars. Men also need help, even more help! The big question still is: how does a man tell his friends and relations that his wife beats him? How?
Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye: My ‘Co-debater’ Takes a Final Bow
On June 9, 2019, Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye turned 50 years old. I did a tribute on my Facebook page to celebrate her. On her subsequent birthdays, I would only call her to wish her a happy birthday. I had in mind that at her 60th birthday anniversary, I would do a Diamond piece on her, and then wait till she turned 80, God willing, to celebrate her again. But alas, that will never happen. Nancy will not be available for me to write about our journey from childhood to adulthood. Reason being that on Monday, September 4, 2023, the devastating news came. ‘My Co-debater’, Taiwo died and was buried that same day!
Ken Breniman, a USA-based Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW), member of Certification – International Yoga Therapist (C-IAYT) and Thanalogist, did a piece on “How to Cope with Death of A Friend.” In that article, Breniman said: “Friendships are some of the most meaningful and life-changing relationships you have. That’s why it can be very hard to cope when a friend dies. This person may have been your primary confidante, your partner-in-crime, or the one who stuck by you during your parent’s divorce. If your friend was young, the aftermath of their death can be even more shocking and confusing. Deal with your friend’s death by finding ways to cope with your emotions, keeping their memory alive, and learning how to carry on without them.” This is exactly what happened to me with the passing on of Nancy. The trauma for me is coping with the emotions that come with the death and how to keep her memories and carry on without them.
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Nancy, who I called ‘nasty’ Nancy, and I shared a lot in common in our secondary school days at our Araromi High school (now Odo Oro High school). She was one of the smallest in stature in our set, but she had one of the biggest brains. We got ‘liberated’ from manual work through her stubbornness in Form Three, when, with her tiny voice, she resisted the attempt to chase us out of the library for the manual work, when the announcement was made that only those going for the inter-school quiz competition in a neighbouring school should go to the library to prepare. Our then Vice Principal, Mr. Ogunleye acceded to our, or Nancy’s demand and organised an inter-class quiz competition to determine if we were good enough to represent the school. Though class three was beaten to the third position, with our seniors in forms five and four coming first and second respectively because of the advantages they had in the sciences, the two of us made great impacts as we answered all the five English Language questions correctly and got many others from other classes as bonus marks. That was the second term of class three. By the third term, Nancy had proven herself such that she was made a full prefect (Punctuality) in form three and we had our first exposure as quiz competitors that same term.
That marked the beginning of our ‘rivalry’ as she became my “Co-Debater” from the numerous inter and intra-class debates organised by our new principal in form four, Chief A.E. O. Agidigbi. Nancy was a good debater; she hackneyed quotations from Shakespeare like someone chanting Ijala Are Ode (hunters chants). The two of us were elevated to the positions of Senior Prefect (Boy) and Senior Prefect (Girl) from our previous positions of Assistant Senior Prefects, after one of such inter-school competitions. A million thanks to the two men who were handling our English Language and Literature-in-English, Brother Biodun Ogunleye and the late Mr. Akinyemi for sustaining the ‘rivalry’. It was not therefore a surprise that we both ended up studying English Language at the university and ventured into journalism as careers; electronic for Nancy and print for me.
Though a few years younger, Nancy was a companion and a dear friend. She was more than a confidant. She had an inimitable sense of fortitude. And she was a very ‘mischievous’ friend. Whenever she called me “Senior Boy”, she was up to something ‘silly’. If she simply said: “My co-debater”, she had an old tale to retell. Her “My Egbon” salutation meant serious discussion. Now all those are over! What a life! Breniman again, writing on the sub-topic: “Coping with the loss”, asked the bereaved to “Attend the memorial to say “goodbye” Painfully, I could not do so because of the prompt burial. The social worker counselled those who grieve to “Grieve in the way that works for you”; I have been trying to do so. He enjoined grievers to remember a dear friend, by recalling fond memories, and to “Spend some time thinking about special occasions you had with the person: birthdays, milestones, and even just days hanging out at home.” He added that mourners should “Re-visit sacred places or recreate favorite practices.”. I passed by our old Araromi High School many times the past weekend, but I could not bring myself to visit the place Nancy and I had those debates and quiz competitions. On a closing tune, Breniman again counselled the bereaved to “Redefine yourself. The time after a death often leads people to think about the meaning of life. Your friend’s death may have made you more aware of things within yourself you’d like to change. Take some time to decide what kind of person you want to be moving forward.” This is exactly what I plan to do to keep your memories alive, ‘nasty’ Nancy. Your demise is a lesson. The plans we discussed last were too huge, the enthusiasm too palpable and the hopes many and encouraging. The greatest joy is that you found Christ and won souls for His kingdom. Your last identity was Evangelist Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye. You did the work of an evangelist even to the point of near death in an accident you miraculously survived.
Good night, Omo oligbo asamoju. Good night, Omo amuyan para la i’lobe. O daaro, My Co-debater!
This article written by Suyi Ayodele, South-East/South-South Editor, Nigerian Tribune was first published by the same newspaper, and published by INFO DAILY with the permission from the author.
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Congress Newspaper @4: X-Raying The Evolution Of Media In Ijaw Nation
Published
3 hours agoon
July 11, 2025By
Editor
By Joseph Kanjo
When Congress Newspaper/Online TV was launched four years ago, profit wasn’t the priority. “We weren’t looking at making money,” said Comrade Austin Ozobo, Managing Director of Congress Newspaper and a notable rights activist.
“I was in government as a Senior Special Assistant (SSA), and the salary wasn’t much. But I needed a platform where my voice—and the voices of like-minded individuals, especially my people—could be heard. So, I floated it. But today, things have changed. The profits are coming naturally,” he added.
These remarks came during my phone conversation with Comrade Ozobo, just days ahead of Congress Newspaper’s fourth anniversary celebration on July 10, 2025.
A well-known advocate for the rights of the Ijaw people and president of the Ijaw People’s Development Initiative (IPDI), Ozobo emphasized that his primary motivation was to amplify marginalized voices—especially those of his people. He reflected a sentiment similar to that of British musician and activist Peter Gabriel, who once said, “Those of us who have the eyes and ears of the media have a responsibility to amplify the voices of the voiceless.”
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Fifteen years ago, it would have been difficult to count more than a handful of media outlets—whether big or small—owned or managed by individuals Ijaw from the Ijaw extraction.
Despite the many challenges faced by the Ijaw people, particularly due to the complex terrain they inhabit, their voices were largely absent from national conversations.
But today, that narrative has changed—thanks in part to the rise of online media. Now, there are numerous media outlets owned and managed by Ijaw sons and daughters, both in digital and print formats.
These platforms—each with its own mission and vision—nonetheless share a common thread: they give a voice to the people of the creeks, from whose experiences they often draw inspiration.
Some notable Ijaw-owned indigenous media platforms include:
GbaramatuVoice, Ijaw Voice, Ijaw Heritage TV, Arogbe Ibe Reporters, Iduwini Voice, Ogulagha Vanguards, and Egbema Voice.
In addition, several media outlets with broader or foreign-sounding names are also run by Ijaw professionals, including:
Info Daily, The Liberator, Coastal Times, Penglobal, Focal Point Reports, Dailynews Report, Waffi TV, Niger Delta Mirror, Niger Delta Herald, Daily Watch, and Mangrovepen.
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Congress Newspaper/TV, though relatively new, has firmly established itself among these platforms as a consistent voice advocating for the Ijaw cause and broader Niger Delta interests.
Some may argue that media organizations should be neutral and unbiased. While this principle remains fundamental to ethical journalism, one cannot ignore the impact of ownership. Around the world, media ownership often shapes editorial direction, intentionally or not.
During his welcome address at the fourth anniversary celebration, Comrade Ozobo reiterated the newspaper’s founding vision: to provide not just information, but empowerment for Niger Delta communities.
“Our mission has always been to champion the voices that often go unheard and to shine a light on the issues that matter most to our people,” he said.
“We believe in the power of ethical journalism, and we remain committed to being a steadfast voice for justice, equity, and truth.”
Ozobo’s words speak to a broader truth: in media, ownership matters. And when that ownership is rooted in community-driven passion and purpose—as it is with Congress Newspaper—it becomes a powerful vehicle for social change.
As Congress Newspaper marks its fourth year, it stands not just as a media outlet, but as a movement—one that continues to reshape the media landscape in the Ijaw nation and beyond.
Joseph Ebi Kanjo is a practising journalist and Managing Editor of INFO DAILY.
editor@infodailyng.com
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Supreme Court: Jubilant Supporters Stunned, Locked Out Of Edo Govt House [PHOTOS]
Published
8 hours agoon
July 11, 2025By
Editor
Jubilant supporters of Governor Monday Okpebholo Edo State, were on Friday disappointed as they were locked out from the Edo State Government House, Benin City.
The order not to allow anyone to access the government house was reportedly from an order from above.
The supporters, which included market women and members of the All Progressives Congress (APC), had gathered at the Benin Airport about 7am, to give the governor a rousing welcome.
The gathering followed Okpebholo’s triumph at the 2024 governorship election legal dispute at the Supreme Court in the nation’s capital, Abuja.
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Okpebholo, whose aircraft touched down at the Benin Airport at about 12.40pm was welcomed by the supporters amid jubilation.
The supporters, many of whom were not mobile, proceeded on foot in a road procession with governor Okpebholo’s motorcades- chanting solidarity songs.
The procession, which lasted for about an hour, terminated at the Edo State Government House where the supporters were informed by security operatives that only Very Important Personalities (VIPs) would be allowed into the government house for refreshments.
The bewildered supporters took turns to lament the development, with many raining insults on the authorities.
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One of the supporters who identified herself as Mrs. Ebosele Omogiate said: “In the worst moments of ex-governor Godwin Obaseki, supporters and members were not shabbily treated like this.
“They have won now and have decided to build a wall around themselves,” she added.
“I left my house before 7am for the airport and stood under the sun for hours before the arrival of the governor.
“We engaged on a road show with him to the government house, only for us to be shut out. This treatment melted on us is unfair,” another supporter added.
Earlier, addressing the crowd, Governor Okpebholo thanked God for his victory at the Supreme Court.
He promised that in the next two years, Edo people will know that they have a governor.

Tunde Odesola
The presidential convoy spread out on the Third Mainland Bridge like a cloud of bats on seasonal migration. Sirens screamed. Lights flashed. The convoy of vehicles unfolds like the hail of light produced when the welder’s electrode kisses a metal, shraaaah! shraaaah! E plenty like iná wédà to fóká síbè.
As an insect enthusiast with particular love for beekeeping (cockroaches and bedbugs not included, please), I know that bees, ants and wasps have no kings, but queens, who guard-bees protect with their lives. However, termites have kings and queens, both of whom soldier termites protect with their last blood.
Be they bees, ants, wasps or termites, I love watching the life of cooperation, protection, order and hard work among insects. I love their guards’ provision of security for all and sundry, unlike the guards in this presidential convoy, whose only duty is the protection of the President, his family and bootlickers.
Measuring 11.8 kilometres, the Third Mainland Bridge, a massive masterpiece of concrete and steel work stretching over the Lagos Lagoon, was started in 1975 by the General Yakubu Gowon military administration, and continued by General Murtala Mohammed’s six-month government, before President Shehu Shagari stepped into the picture and did his bit. However, it was General Ibrahim Babangida who took credit for the bridge construction because he ensured its completion in 1990.
If the charismatic Babangida didn’t annul the June 12, 1993 presidential election won by Chief MKO Abiola, he almost certainly would have been preferred by Nigerians to shed his military khaki for the agbada of politics, instead of the less gifted and dour General Muhammadu Buhari, who later got the presidency on fake promises.
Regrettably, Babangida apparently lost political goodwill, honour, peace of mind and two terms of civilian presidency to the June 12 annulment. Little did Nigerians know that the official name of the Third Mainland Bridge is Ibrahim Babangida Bridge, but nobody remembers that; people only remember the abortion of June 12. The things men do, live with them.
It was on this Ibrahim Babangida Bridge that the presidential convoy set out en route to the airport. Jesu! Not even the president of the richest and most powerful nation on earth, Donald Trump, has such a long motorcade. From my vantage point, I counted the number of vehicles in the convoy. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 15, 20, 30, 40…Ha! Kilode? Is the president japaing? Probably to make counting difficult, the outriders zigzagged and crisscrossed. So, I stopped at 40-something.
But in the middle of the armoured pack, I saw three Rolls-Royce Phantoms, three Cadillac Escalades, three Mercedes-Benzes, three Cybertrucks and three state-of-the-art buses. None of the cars in the convoy was assembled in Nigeria, despite the government’s avowed propaganda about patronising Made-in-Nigeria goods; not even the wash towels used for cleaning the vehicles were made in Nigeria, nor the foot mats.
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Everywhere was on lockdown: air, land and sea – forcing the sun to hide behind the clouds, and birds vacated the air while the poor man’s movement was put on hold by those he voted for. Only the convoy moved. I yawned inside a Lagos BRT vehicle, wondering why the big men’s movement should stop the movement of citizens on the opposite side of the bridge.
This was when the window of one of the three buses opened, and I glimpsed Nigeria’s most recognisable cap, with its trademark chain symbol, the chain of oppression.
“Haa! Bàba Bàbá ni o! Olowo Eko ni ooo!” a youngster hawking alcoholic drinks and bottled water in traffic shrieked. “It’s the BAT, King BAT, the Lord of Lagos!” a hawker of plantain chips screamed, jumping, “I saw him! I saw him! Baba smiled and waved at me! Baba waved at me! The Asiwaju of the Universe waved at me!” A cripple, who begs in traffic, hissed and shook his head, “Una dey praise those who chain una? Ok o, make una kontiniu, una never see anything.”
The heat in the BRT was stifling, and sweat poured from skin pores. Thoughts of Nigeria flooded my mind. Since I was born and now that I am getting old, I have never seen Nigeria changeth (for good).
Inside the armoured bus, seated at the feet of the Lord of Lagos were members of his innermost circle – Noisome Winke, IdanFemi Gbabiamila, Baba Chief AdeBC, Jide-Olu, and Natasha coveter, Chief Dogswill Akpabi.
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In the fleeting moment when the Lord of Lagos let down his window, I saw his gaze travel beyond the hailing roadside traders, resting on the 13-storey Senate Building of the University of Lagos, across the lagoon. I saw desire lit up in his eyes. “My name will suit the university more than its current name. What is UNILAG? Why not UNIBAT?
Winke, the ultimate bootlicker and mind reader, will not miss the opportunity to massage the ego of the Lord of Lagos. Though he cleared his throat, the frog in it would not keep silent. “Jide-Olu, don’t you think you should name UNILAG and this world’s best bridge after our personal Lord and Saviour?” Jide-Olu smiled, “No, Winke. UNILAG and the Third Mainland Bridge do not belong to the state. They belong to the centre, which is headed by our Lord and Saviour.”
Sounding more like a masquerader battling stomach upset during a market show, Winke said, “Uhmm, it doesn’t matter, you can start the call from your end – that our leader deserves the university to be renamed after him. Or does he not?” Jide-Olu, “Why not, if not? In fact, I suggest we should call on the National Assembly to name all federal universities and polytechnics after our leader. That way, the nation will save money.”
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Lord of Lagos: What do you think about these suggestions, Natasha, oh sorry, I mean, Akpabi?
Akpabi: (Smiles like a child eating ice cream, his special Ibibio accent booming loud and clear) Ha, you are our òká o. And, as our òká, iris not too much if we name Nigeria after you, I swear. Nigerians cannot reyect it. On Monday, the yoint session will rook at how we are going to do it, so that the opposition and Nigeria Rabour Congress will not begin their wahala.”
Lord of Lagos: Baba AdeBC, what do you think?
Baba AdeBC: Well, it’s not a bad idea for Nigeria to show gratefulness to her messiah and defender. I think it’s a good idea. (Baba AdeBC beams his trademark smile, which is as lifeless as the beach foam left behind on the shore by the roaring ocean)
Idanfemi: Your Excellency, you have a phone call from the US President, sir.
Lord of Lagos: Oh, connect me, Idanfemi.
Trump: How’re you doing, BAT?
Lord of Lagos: I’m doing great, Donald. Thank you. How’re you and your wonderful family?
Trump: We’re fine, and thanks for asking. Hey BAT, can I pick your brain real quick?
Lord of Lagos: Ha! No oooo; leave my brain alone o. Please, don’t pick it. My brain is old already. Ma se erekere iwo arakunrin yi. When you know you need Nigerian brains, why did you restrict your visa to three-month single entry? If you want millions of Nigerian brains, you open your borders for 24 hours and see.
Trump: No, you’re getting me wrong. I don’t mean to pick your brain literally, I mean to ask for your knowledge and advice on some issues.
Lord of Lagos: Oh, I see. Fear don catch me. I don’t want anything to touch this my political brain o.
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Trump: Exactly what I’m saying! That your political brain is what I want to pick. I just saw your convoy on CNN! How do you afford such a large convoy and retinue of sycophants?
Lord of Lagos: That’s not for me to worry. The state takes care of that.
Trump: OMG! You mean the state bears the brunt of all that drain on taxpayers’ money? Are you kidding me!? I think it’s better to be president of your shithole than be president of America, seriously.
Lord of Lagos: You have come with this shithole thing again, Donald? You’re not serious.
Trump: Can you believe that as president, I pay for the food my family and I eat, I pay for drinks and clothes. I pay for private parties when I host them, I pay for gifts when I buy them for foreign dignitaries, I cover my vacation accommodations, and I pay for private events hosted outside the White House. Additionally, I pay for general household items like toilet paper, toothpaste, and garbage bags. Do you know that Bill Clinton incurred $16 million in debt for legal and personal investigation fees, which he paid over time?
Lord of Lagos: (Bursts into laughter) And you say you’re prezdent? Hahahahah! You’re prezdent indeed. Hahahaha! Yes, you’re the most powerful prezdent on earth, but are you the most indulged? Certainly, no! You’re just an administrative paper prezdent, I’m the ultimate ruler.
Trump: I wish we could trade places.
Lord of Lagos: Ha, trade places ke? No ooo! Let me be prezdent of this shithole, you continue to be prezdent of your superpower country. Stay with your democracy. I’ll stay with my empire. I don’t want to be Prezdent of America. I don’t wan die in prison, please.
Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com
Facebook: @Tunde Odesola
X: @Tunde_Odesolap
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