BUNMILOFE'S MUSINGS

Danfo Chronicles- First time ever! Can you believe it? It actually happened to me! Me, a certified danfo huger, propagator of danfo manners, authour of danfo chronicles. I never imagined it could happen to me. I mean, not after all these years in Lagos. When I was a fresher in the herculean task of travelling around Lagos perhaps, but not now. I could have given a speech on danfo comportment, delivered a piece on surviving Lagos busses or even my own tiny e-book titled; '5 tricks Lagos conductors do not want you to know' / 'managing your emotions to collect your change' or better still 'No conductor can swindle you'. Well, ladies and gentle men, it happened to me yesterday. I forgot my 'change' with the bus driver, a whooping sum of 200 Naira. I still cannot believe it, but it happened to me. So this morning, as a sharp 'geh', I walked to my usual bus terminal with a determination to demand my money.  I did, I found the man and requested fo

Almost everyone in my inner circle knows I would rather not be living where I live. I easily blame 60% of the stress triggers in my life on the fact that I live there. When I ask my friends over, I use words like ‘when are you coming to Cameroon to see me’, even though I actually live in Lagos. My house itself is comfortable and beautiful, if only I could carry it to some other part of Lagos. I tell anyone that is willing to listen how living where I live is not a smart choice if you don’t run your own business or have absolute control over your time. The traffic is unending, the roads are narrow and when it rains, it’s time to wade. Blah, blah, blah I go on. The only good thing I see about living in that area is the amazing man with whom I live there. Then this morning, I sat in the same bus with a colleague from work. Hardly a colleague as I do not even know his name, never had any work relation with him. I just know we work for the same firm and might have said ‘hi’ at the lunc

Picture This is a new column I am introducing to the blog. It's an hypothetical situation, a depiction of my imaginations. More often than not, these events did not occur. Once in a while, when I encounter something really amazing, it could feature here too. Read with a light heart, it's not a serious something. Car Chase They are attention grabbers, any day- all four of them, good looking and happy, chatting away. Locating their car in the parking lot, they file in one after the other and zoom off into the busy street. Anyone peeping into the car would have seen them laughing, talking and bobbing their heads to the music from the car CD player. It’s a lazy evening and the ladies bask in each other’s company. It’s on 3rd mainland bridge that Kemi, seated by the driver notices the car to their right, occupied by a guy and his friend, driving steadily alongside them. There's a bit of traffic, allowing the guys feast on the beautiful sight the girls make. They

Do you know there's a tea for everything? You are shocked right, I was too when I discovered.  If everyone was like me, the tea industry will be non existent. When people ask me, do you drink tea? I smile and nod, 'green tea' I say before you ask the mandatory 'what kind of tea' question. What I often neglect to say is that I drink so much green tea that I only buy one pack every three months. Pack here does not mean carton, it means pack. So the other day, I bounced into Blenco, made my way to the tea session wanting to just pick my green tea and get out. But the shelf would not let me. I was awe struck by the sheer number of tea types there are. Bright eyes tea, smoother skin tea, arthritis tea, man& woman love tea, sharper mind tea, muscle tea, longer hair tea. Name it, there is a tea for it. Got me wondering, are these teas actually effective or is the tea market under the spot light for 'scam of the year'? I mean, if muscle building tea

For a long time, Classic powder has comfortably occupied the space allocated to powder in my head. Every time it breaks (which is practically every month), I walk into a supermarket and pick up  another one. I never consider other options or see reason to change. No, I was faithful to classic. Until recently. Staring at my face in the office restroom mirror at 5:00 pm one day, I asked myself ' who would imagine  I wore powder this morning '. Just like that, my commitment to Classic evaporated, quickly replaced with a desire for a new powder. My make up artist (who has made me up the two times I ever desired proper make up in my entire life) told me a number of times that Milani would be perfect for my face. I believed him, I still do. Only that Rita Dominic looks so flawless in the Zaron billboard at the foot of third mainland bridge. No lines, no smears, no colours- such flawless beauty makes me want to look like that  everyday. It somehow never registered in my head that

I have a love-hate relationship with tricycles. Also called kekes, I am yet to make up my mind as to how I feel about those things. They appear to be safer and more comfortable than bikes (okadas) but they are not anywhere near cars. After several experiments, I still cannot decide, is the backseat more comfortable than the half-seat by the driver in front? First, one would think the back is more comfortable till you have to sit between two people blessed with an ample size. Even when your seat partners are moderately sized, the shifting and dressing you have to do when one person has to get down is mighty uncomfortable. Particularly because, unlike in a car, you can not pick a safe corner by the door (or opening, since there are no windows). While you are busy getting comfortable, somebody will hop in beside you, suddenly commanding you to dress . The keke opens both ways so you cannot complain. At such times, the front appears to be better. At least, you will maintain the same

It's my baby sister's valedictory service in a few weeks and all the preparation is taking me way back, sending me on a trip down memory lane. I remember the days when my most paramount concern was how to make my hair grow long enough to weave for valedictory service. I remember the consultations with my friends about what each person should wear and the ensuing arguments with my mum about the definition of 'decent'. I can't believe it's been so long already. Where did all the time go? How did I go from worrying about my Biology result to worrying about house rent? I remember hanging out with my friends, counting the days to the release of our jamb results. Hanging out was basically playing games in Oyinkan's house, watching movies in Bolu's house or pretending to be singers at Tomiini's house. All those Saturdays Deola, Lolade, Moyo and I spent looking for okada on the streets of Ibara GRA talking about boys, teens church, Nora Roberts  and the la