IDOL '08 - *Shsh Simon*, Mz 30+ is talking


Are you ready for this?!

You know how I like to sing and praise Baba God every time I start typing a post, like right now that I am reflecting and singing that "he is the true Baba Ara ti o mo iyi omo" (the true father of wonders who cherishes his children).

Well y'all be hearing my skentele voice throughtout the Blogville Idol competition becasue

Mz 30+ is the HOST for Blogville Idol 2008

Thank you, thank you for those who are smiling with joy for me, and for the rest, skontolo your ears.

I have checked the rules, nothing stops the host/hostess from bursting a tune every now and then - lol.

Tell Simon Cowell, his job is not safe...........

Ok excitement down, I am thinking oh my goodness

What am I gonna say?
Should I phonetise
Or naijarise?
Or be very serious?
Or try to be funny
Or be razz?
Or all of the above 'cos I am a mix

I don't know mehn, but pray for me just like every other contestant.

I am not singing but I'm still kind of NERVOUS.

OK Tarry Plus, 1 mug of camomile tea and breathing exercise coming up.


From her window – 15th Street

Peeps mi,

How'dy? Been a moment.

Do you know that God is so good, so much so that before you we even showed up "he has given unto us everything that pertains unto life and Godliness".
One of the things that pertains to life is creativity and boy did we see a display of that on the 14th and Serenity project, well done guys.

Blogville Idol 2008 is coming up o, if you have not heard before you are hearing now, sign up and let's see another aspect of creativity in action - the use of vocal chords - lol.

You don't have to be celine dion, mariah carey or kanye west, as long as you have mouth that can open and hopefully produce a sound/noise you should enlist. It will be fun, last year was so cool but I am sure this year will TOP IT.

I dey kampe o, nothing dey happen God is on the throne, it is unquestionable.

Well I have been having withdrawal symptoms from the 14th and decide to write the piece below. Mehn tis not easy sha you berra enjoy it

Here goes...

Mrs Cee detested the gauze cover of the window; she on the other hand loathed Mrs Cee’s coke laced nose and the woman’s insistence on being an accessory on 14th street.

Through the gauze covered windows, she could see the enclave of drama. Sex, Drugs, drama and more Sex were the prime attributes of the ominous building standing at the junction of chaos. Freshly bathed air blew into her abode; she inhaled deeply willing for a cleansing.

She had wanted the executive bachelorette pad at Grandville avenue end of 15th but could only afford the 1 bed Apartment at the Serenity end; it gave a vantage view of the hotel and in the distance the back garden of Mrs Cee.

Outside, the Mediterranean looking artist concentrated hard on the canvass doing his day job, drawing shoddy caricatures. His victim this afternoon was a Paris Hilton hopeful whose Chihuahua was threatening to escape. What was it again ‘animals being a better judge of characters than human’? The artist work littered the sidewalk and somewhat told a story. His latest piece bore an uncanny likeness to her deceased friend RM. RM lived opposite the bachelorette pad at the Grandville end of 15th. They had met outside the pad while she was waiting for the agent; RM had been quite chatty persuading her that the apartment was worth every bit of the asking price. They soon found out they had a few things in common, exotic men and arts. Their subsequent acquaintance met Mrs Cee’s disapproval, not that it mattered.

RM had been a frequent visitor to the 14th; she seemed to know the story of a few of the residents. Once she had spotted RM coming from the artist’s inner chamber.

From her window the sight of an odd looking guy struggling with his brolly caught her attention. The man walked hurriedly past the artist knocked down the latest piece. The man did not stop he appeared to be on a mission or running late for a rendezvous at the hotel which he headed towards.

She sighed and sipped her sparkling coconut and mango drink, her gaze trailed and settled longingly on the bottle sitting on the glass shelf above her book collections.
Her mind was made up; six months on 15th was long enough, what was she thinking in the first place, if the one born of Immaculate Conception could not reach Mrs Cee what could a prostitute’s daughter achieve. Blood may be thicker than water but it’s not thicker than a fix.

The events of the past months were enough to drive anyone over the brink of reasoning starting with the ‘Letter’ that brought her to the 15th. Zena’s boyfriend Ty, had been a God sent in helping her secure the accommodation. He was kind enough to show around the neighbourhood since she was new in town and Z lived at the other end of town.

Who could have thought?

Ty’s unexpected death should have been a blessing in disguise rather it seemed to fuel the passion for revenge the more. Pure cowardice Zena had exclaimed ignoring the fact that an armed man had gone to Ty’s house to batter his skull leaving his wife to find him in his cold blood. Zena had set out on a mission to find out all she could about Ty and the woman carrying Ty’s ‘evil seed’ as she called it.

The smoke alarm called her attention to the burning burritos. Next to cherry flavoured drinks, Z loved her burritos; she dashed into the kitchen to turn off the oven. The call last night worried her there was something in Z’s voice she could not place. Ty had changed Zena who was once a bubbly, down to earth, confident kind of girl. Then came Ty and things changed before then there was no secrets between them, they were sandbox friends who planned to have their family live side by side and share school runs.

Now Z is a bitter scorned woman, while she was a young lawyer on a failed redemption mission, racked with guilt yet bestowed with an unexpected gift and a lost opportunity of bonding with her ‘brother’.

“There is a time for everything under the sun, a time to die, a time to live, a time to cry and a time to laugh”, father Michael’s voice played in her ears. “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes” he continued. She placed her parting gift of a single black rose on the young lad being lowered to mother earth, this was their second meeting.

At the first meeting, she had observed her brother closely; there was no semblance between them. His pale white complexion was stark contrast to her Olive skin. He was blonde curly haired, she had straight jet black locks. He looked really dead lying on the slab of metal in that cold room, she felt very much alive coming in from the afternoon sun. They were not treating his death as suspicious the officer had told them, it was an OD case. She touched his cold head now drained of life and at that very moment felt the baby’s first kick. She had gasped while their mother, Mrs Cee held her tightly from the back, muffling some consolation and cleaning her tears “it’s ok at least we have each other now”.

What mother forgets to mention her son to her daughter, especially when she is reconciling with the daughter after 24 years? Then again Mrs Cee is stoned half of the time and refuses to go to rehab. And she had the nerve to request she be called Mum.
As far as she was concerned, ‘her mum’ Franceska Roberts was dead. Mrs Cee was only an egg donor she had hoped of having a meaningful relationship with hence the choice of living on this side of town rather than the apartment recommended by her firm.

She could see the umbrella man coming out of the Hotel; he was walking funny and had changed his clothes for an African print similar to the ones she had seen Ty wore on a few occasions. Ty had worn it on that unfateful rainy night when he visited her apartment to report Zena’s vandalism of his car.

From her window, she saw as Z swore at the ambulance which drove past her heading towards Mrs Cee’s street. Ordinarily she would have jibed about Z wearing shades on cloudy day as this but she had an inkling humour was not on today’s menu. Her stomach knotted with every step Z took towards the building.

© copyright 30+ , June '08
Picture from google images


*Orun Makanju

Peeps mi,

How are you all?

Abeg Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.

If you are reading this post, you sure have breath, why don't you praise God. There will be such a time when the breath will be no more, now that you still have it praise him.

Yesterday - I heard that a good friend of mine passed on. One with whom we worked in hand in hand, one who touched me and helped me in the path of this pilgrimage . He went to be with the Lord sometime last year but I knew not of it. You see I had not seen him for over a decade but believed that one day our paths will yet cross and we will exchange notes.

I will never forget the day I made Orifi cry, he was the first man I will see cry openly because of me (except my dad), he apologised even though I was in the wrong. I teared up inside but put up my stubborn front - he had shown me Humility. I will never forget how he persuaded me to change one habit, where others had faltered he spoke only two sentences, it was like a hammer that broke any questions or resistance of mine - he had demonstrate the power of the WORD. That day he gained my full respect, this was leadership like I never knew.

A kind hearted man, his stature physically was not intimidating but he was strong warrior, Orifi knew his God and he did exploits.

'Orifi ti lo o' (Orifi has gone).
I know our paths will meet again to part no more at the feet of our LORD.

Last week - I visited my neighbour who lost her husband who was well advanced in years yet no less painful for his widow. She let her tears flow freely, a partnership spanning more than 40years now severed.

Monday - I heard of the death of a former colleague, more of an acquitance than a friend, he was just a year my senior but in a neighbouring school. He was a young man whom I am sure had ambition.

Today - Veteran Ibadan politician died aged 81. When it comes to the grandfather of politics in Ibadan, it was Adedibu kan Ibadan kan (one Adedibu, one Ibadan) his influence extends beyond the borders of Ibadan going all the way to Aso Rock. I am sure Ibadan is in uproar, molete will be a no go area, *Erin wo gbogbo ile ni lati mi titi* (*An elephant has fallen, the ground must groan*). The face of Oyo state politics will never be the same.

"Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets. Remember him—before the silver cord is severed, or the golden bowl is broken; before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, or the wheel broken at the well, and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it" (Eccl 12: 5-7 - NIV).

*Orun Makanju - A popular saying among the yorubas in time of death is 'orun makanju, gbogbo wa la nbo' literal meaning 'heavens don't be in a hurry, we are all coming.



My personal peeps

How are you all doing? I see God’s work unfolding in your life and I thank God for you lot. He has all the power, raw materials and time to finish the work he started in you. When you think of it life is worth living cos Baba God has not finished just yet.

What can I say, I think I have broken a record as far as blogville is concerned o, yippee yippe doo dooo daaah. I got not one, not two, but three virtual cakes from three different bloggers on this ogbonge blogville, infact one of them was an Alien cake and the other was invisible.
Mommy, Aijay and Darkelcee merci beaucoup for the cakes, it was very thoughtful of you.
Thank you all for your prayers and birthday wishes in fact my head was swollen.

So you want to know what I did on my Birthday shey, I did Nada. 30+ was working all through, imagine that. All the folks calling me from England coould not believe I was working 'cos it was bank holiday for them. I got some lovely cards and gifts. I felt special that day sha and was so joyful and thankful to God I cried that evening. God has been good to me is all I can say…I can’t shout.

I have been quite bizzy in the past week and have only managed to do some blogrounds.

E be like say YES, WE CAN, Obama is rocking...

Personal gist level, not much is happening, lost a couple of pounds.

My flatmate said I look like a 23-25 year old - buuuaaaaaah

Oh yeah I have got a new flatmate, a foine looking guy with a small semblance to Superman's dad (but younger, he is caucasian ). After the initial panic that I may have subconsciously taken on a foine looking flatmate with an ulterior motive, things are back to normal. Temptation is far from me now because he smokes (dude lied that he didn't) and he does not believe in God, how unsexy.
Peeps mi, the first couple of days/week I was avoiding the guy big time as in and lead me not to temptation but deliver me from slander. Imagine the headline "notorious no sex before marriage naija blogger, 30+ jumps her flatmate in a moment of heated lust"chei, God forbid. It will be worse than Samson and Delilah at least they had a hollywood movie. Mine would be a cheap Nollywood flick with 'ill dressed' actors and actresses and razz lines.

Have you ever wondered it is been so many years Samson did the do and yet folks are still talking about it, long after God had forgiven Samson, David and Bathsheba nko. In the same way there are some things you and I have done in the past which God has since forgiven but the people around you will keep reminding you and using you as the example. You may even be the one that has refused to forget what God has since erased. My friend get stepping, Old things have passed away, as long as you hang onto that past the future will be a struggle for you to move into.....

14th is keeping us all entertained so get your fill on from THE STREET. Writers let's read some daylight stories please, let's hear from some of the other characters in the neighbourhood, abi nothing else dey happen for the street ni. May God bless your brains and keyboard as you take time to deliver such graphic and entertaining stories.

Till later