END OF 2014…

Happy holidays!!!!

So much going down in Gidi, I’m dizzy from all the excitement.
I’m not going to go gung-ho on you guys today. I’m opening the floor to you Single in Gidi people. What’s hot in your area? Where are we doing all the drinking and chopping?
How did you spend Christmas? I spent mine cooking for Africa and its twin brother, but as I hear, my wife material level don increase to 50yards.

While I wait for your replies, I’ll go see the much acclaimed “30 days in Atlanta”. Apparently, it’s the movie to see. Hit me up if that is in your schedule today as well. We can make a party of it, then discuss attending the Lagos Countdown on the 31st.
I know I said I’m leaving the floor to you today, but The Lagos Countdown though… It’s so exciting that I have to say a line, or two!

“I cannot wait for the biggest concert of the year, but most especially for the most spectacular way to usher in the new year!!
Next time you’ll read from me is in 2015. I’ll make it worth your While. God bless us all.



Miss Wakadugbe


You’re not from around here, are you?’

I squinted at the name badge pinned to her off-white satin blouse.

‘No Zandile, I am not.’


My boss has a suite at a hotel in SA, what do you say we go there this Christmas? Wale posted in Camelot, a BBM group I belonged to.

I perked up a bit, but then thoughts of the logistics hit and threw a damper on things for me.

Following my break up with Keme and Max’s attempt to hook me up in a bid to get my mind off the break up, I decided a vacation was what I needed. But where to go to was a problem.

Earlier in the year we had planned a vacation together and now, every vacation spot I thought of reminded me of her. Besides, I would have to go alone, and that was not a prospect I looked forward to.

When Wale mentioned South Africa, although Keme and I had talked about going there, I didn’t mind since I would be going with friends.

Guy, isn’t it rather short notice? Not all of us have dual citizenship like you. There’s a thing called visa that some of us have to apply for. I said.

Bobo don’t mind the hediot. Scar, so called for his leonine head, gaunt frame and scar from a childhood injury that split his left eyebrow in two, said. He will just be making suggestions without checking guys’ schedule. Well, I’m free for the period, so it’s fine.

Another reason we called him Scar was his slinky nature reminiscent of the character ‘Scar’ in the Lion King animation.

Make una no vex o. Na as my Boss say hin no dey travel this Christmas atink say e for good if guys go flex SA small. We all go soon begin marry. Let’s go have one last hurrah.

That na for una wey wan marry. I countered. Me, na the single life get me.

This drew loooools from the rest of the gang.

Look, Bobo I know a guy who knows someone who can arrange visas for peole who need it.

And the phantom appears! Scar said in response to the new participant.

Okaka was first called ‘Phantom’ instead of his preferred ‘Kaka’ by me. I also gave Scar his name. Kaka would disappear for days and weeks, not participating in any conversations, then one day out of the blue, he would pop up.

Scar hafar nah? Kilon pop? When are we looking at for this getaway? Phantom asked.

Whatever we do, we have to be back before 27th o. I jeje told them. My leave was for two weeks terminating on the 28th, but I wanted to be back with one day to spare – just in case.

It took us the next two days to firm up arrangements; accommodation, the most important had been taken care of by Wale so that left visa application for me and Phantom, and tickets for the six of us going from Camelot.


When we arrived O. R. Thambo airport, Johannesburg that morning, we packed ourselves into two maxis, as their regular taxi cabs are called, and made our way to the Sandton Hilton hotel.

Scar, Phantom and Etim wanted breakfast, but after going through the in-room menu, decided breakfast was too expensive.

I wanted to sleep – I stayed up for most of the flight and now could feel my system shutting down. Wale, Olisa and Oladele wanted to sleep too, so we agreed to nap for three hours before going out in search of food.

The next three days passed in a whirl of activities: window shopping and movies at the Sandton City mall during the day – complete with photo sessions at Nelson Mandela square – and club hopping at night.

We got back to the hotel on the fourth day after an evening at the movies – I was with Wale – and I stopped at the reception desk to chat with Tshepi, the jovial receptionist. Tshepi wasn’t there, and in her place was a smallish lady. The thick lens glasses perched on her pinched nose gave her an owlish look.

‘Good evening,’ I said. ‘Please is Tshepi working tonight?’

‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ she asked, not answering my question.

‘No Zandile, I am not. Tshepi, is she working tonight?’

‘Where are you from then?’

‘I’m from Nigeria.’

‘You don’t sound Nigerian.’

‘How do Nigerians sound?’ I’d heard that before, and the answer never varied.

‘Afriken Magic.’ she said with a smile that dimpled her cheeks.

‘So tell me, is Tshepi not on duty?’

‘Look at this man,’ she turned to Wale, her accent more pronounced. ‘A sister is trying to get with him and he’s busy asking about another woman.’

All I could say was ‘Oh,’ with a stupid look on my face.

Hide your boyfriends, Hide your girlfriends, the IJGBs are in town!!!!

It’s that time of the year again…

That time when Lagos is heavily saturated with accents from far and wide, that time when there are more complaints on social media about the weather,  the traffic and most of all, that time when true Lagosians (those who live and work in Lagos) are almost paranoid about losing their loved ones to these foreigners.

Welcome to the ‘I just got back?’ season

Everyone who lives in Lagos knows that the month of December is not just about Christmas and family, incase you have been living under a rock, the month of December is also regarded as the highest hookup season in Nigeria especially Lagos.

Most singletons roam the city with the hope that ‘this year’ would not pass them by after all. And who can blame them? with the number of ‘testimonies’ shared on popular blogs, almost every single lady is on the mission to bag that ‘correct’ guy before the year runs out.

Salons are congested with ladies trying to look their best and malls become strips to showcase your God-given or human enhanced beauty, whatever the case, this is the season where single ladies do not dull because we live by the motto ‘you never know who is watching’

Guys are not left out of this, they are often occupied with thoughts on how to look better and by better, I mean how to look ‘richer’ because they are under the impression that ‘foreign’ babes only like men with money and class. So they borrow money and  luxury cars just to ‘please’ these ladies until the season is over and then they can  go back to keke napeps and one square meals.

For some in relationships though, this is the time when they begin to question the ‘seriousness’ of their relationships because young men get missing at the sound of  foreign accents and young ladies denounce all relationships like a plague at the sight of ‘hard’ currencies and buff bodies (there has to be a reason why all these ‘returnees’ seem buff anyway)

Don’t get me wrong though, it’s not that we do not love to see our IJGB family & friends but the Lagos obsession and fascination of ‘bagging’ a foreigner especially in December is what amazes me and one I may never understand.

On that note, the SIG would like to wish you and yours a fabulous Christmas and as they say you never know sha so keep your eyes open, your future husband/wife may be around the corner (maybe with a foreign accent LOL)


Much love,


P.S – If you have to ‘question’ your relationship because of a few weeks of distraction then maybe it’s not meant to be #justsaying #missgidishrug


“So good, it’s a sin…”

Allow me to introduce you to Mela Rossa, the new temptress located in the heart of Ikoyi. Don’t quote me, but I bet you that name was chosen very carefully. Mela Rossa meaning the Red Apple is the temptation that has landed the city of Lagos, and I do believe it is here to stay.

Mela Rossa is a new spot that just opened up on Awolowo road, Ikoyi. (I know everything seems to be on the Island but wetin we go do na)

My game has been slacking though, and I need to pick it up. I was chattering nonstop on the phone and did not even get to take pictures of my food. Chai, God help me oh.

I bet even if I wasn’t on the phone doing amebo, I still might have forgotten because the food was incredibly good! I need to go give the chef a big hug!


The wait staff continually smiled at me so much so that I started to feel like a fine girl, but then they smiled at other customers too so I guess I’ll make do with my imaginary belief that it’s because I be fine gal.

Pretty decent establishment, I’d go again and again. This time, I’d do you long-throat with the food porn pictures I will put up until you vex and put your own.
Budget wise, Mela Rossa is quite friendly to your pocket so maybe you should consider it as a place to take that your new ‘catch’ to…(i’m just saying)
Mela Rossa is located at No 57, Awolowo road, Ikoyi.
Until next time, have a fabulous holiday and for those of you travelling, remember to stay safe
Miss Wakadugbe

P.S. I am still waiting for recommendations from all of y’all. Is there someplace you’d like me to visit? An upcoming event I do not know about? Holla at your girl….let’s make 2015 different


‘Are you okay, Bobo?’

This, or a variation, had become the opening and the gist of most of my conversations with Keme lately.

‘Why do you ask?’ I would counter with a question of my own. I couldn’t tell what she knew or not, and I did not want to be caught out in a lie.

‘Don’t worry, it’s silly.’ The chuckle that followed was nervous or self-conscious, but without mirth. Always without mirth.

‘Talk to me.’ I said that evening.

‘It’s nothing, honest.’

My eyes did not leave her face and she cast her eyes sideways. Her voice was low when she spoke again.

‘It’s just that sometimes you appear distracted. If your nose is not buried in your phone, then your phone is face down. You know, little things like that.’

As she spoke I wracked my head, going over my recent behaviour, and I realised that what she said was true. I hadn’t even noticed.

‘Babe,’ I said, ‘work’s been kinda crazy lately, so if I seem distracted, it’s most likely work.’ I could almost hear the whistling as I lied through my teeth. ‘As for the other matter of phone, I have no idea what it’s about, but I assure you, there’s nothing to hide.’

There were things to hide. A lot of things.


Nudes. A lot of nudes, and not all Rolayo’s. But I wasn’t going to admit to Keme that her concerns were anything but unfounded.

Instead I made a mental note to be more careful going forward. And I was. Until the day Rolayo asked me to meet her for lunch.

Lunch was an innocent affair we had at Spurs in the Ikeja GRA. Keme sent me messages asking what I wanted for lunch and, full from the heavy lunch I just had with Rolayo, I told her not to bother.


Bobo I am not stupid.

I read Keme’s message a couple of times, trying to decide how best to respond.

How do you mean? I asked.

Bobo you know what I am talking about.

I sighed.

You were lying in bed with me, your legs and mine tangled. My God! Bobo you can kill somebody. You were lying naked beside me and sending I love you messages to another woman.

They were, technically, not “I love you” texts, but I did not attempt to point out that “I miss you” sent by another woman was not the same as “I love you”.

I messed up babe, but it’s not as cut and dried as your anger is making it appear. I rallied.

Bobo, and I asked you if something was wrong, I asked you if anything was going on between you and this… this person Bobo, and you lied.

There, she had me over a barrel. She did ask, and I denied.

At some point I started questioning my sanity. I wondered if I was just being paranoid, that maybe I was seeing what was not there. I am usually never wrong about these things, but in this case I chose to believe you over myself and I questioned my sanity.

Each word I read was a barbed hook embedded under my skin.

No, you’re not crazy. Or paranoid. I messed up big time.

I saw she had read the message, but did not reply for a few minutes and I wondered what must be going through her mind.

You fucked her Bobo. Remember when we started I told you I could never share with another? Never share my man with another woman? I meant it then. I still mean it, but for you I am willing to let it slide. Bobo you lied to me, and it’s the lies that I keep going back to. We both agreed that once trust was out the door, a relationship is as good as dead. You killed this one, because I don’t think I can trust you again. Ever.

I shook my head vigorously, tears blurred my vision and salt stung my eyes.

Don’t. Don’t say that babe. I’m sorry. I admit I messed up, but I did not set out to hurt you or disrespect you.

Well you did. Her response was immediate. You hurt me, and you disrespected me. Bobo you lied to me and made me think I was being unnecessarily paranoid. Do you know what that feels like? And now you tell me you’re sorry. Well Bobo, eat your sorry cos I’m not hungry.

She did not reply my other messages, and after a while she was gone. I tried to message her but the chat we had open was gone and she was no longer a contact on my phone.

I contemplated calling her, but decided that maybe she needed some time, and space.

So that evening, as I listened to my friend Max’s program, I sent her the message, Max, she just left me.



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I returned home the next morning feeling like something had changed in the quality of my relationship with Rolayo, but not knowing what.

We chatted the same, talked about the same things: work, family, life. What we did not talk about was that night.

We did not talk about how snugly her soft curves bent into my not-so-hard planes. We did not talk about the time she turned, first her face, then the rest of her to face me. We did not talk about just lying there, looking each other in the face in the dark of the room, barely making out features but knowing we were looking, one at the other. We did not talk about breaths, feverish and moist from nostrils to upper lips, nor did we talk about kisses tentative at first, then growing in intensity as passions not previously considered kicked in. Lips asking, giving, accepting, claiming and sighing.

Not of frantic hands, all ten thumbs fumbling at buttons and clasps, sliding clothes off, rustling in the night’s quiet. Nor of the jolt when cool skin came in contact with warm, very warm skin.

Despite not talking about these things, we acknowledged that night happened. More than that was the silent acknowledgement that it would repeat itself. In the near future. We would make sure of it.


‘Bobo is everything okay?’ Keme asked me a few weeks later.

‘How do you mean?’

‘I dunno. Maybe it’s nothing…’

‘Talk to me.’ I coaxed her.

‘It’s this feeling I’ve been getting. Like I said, it’s probably nothing…’ she trailed off.

‘What is it?’ I asked, dreading her reply. In that instant I knew that somehow she knew.

‘It’s just that you seem more than a little distracted these days.’ She looked at her fingers pressed together in front of her. ‘When I come around you and you’re on your phone, you flinch. It’s disconcerting,’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but my bet is that it’s nothing,’ I walked to where she stood, took her in my arms and buried my nose in her hair. ‘I love you.’ I whispered, my throat tight.

She wrapped her arms around my back, pressing my chest to hers. ‘And I love you too.’

Here was a girl who had shown herself to be committed to me in a way that people dreamed of. I had to be crazy to want to jeopardise that over what?

I resolved to make that visit my last to Rolayo’s.


Anthy! Good evening. How body? I messaged Rolayo two days later.

Body dey o. Just a little tired. How was your day?

My day was crazy hectic. The server was down and everything seemed to take four times as much time and energy. Even the customers seemed more than a little touchy, and I couldn’t seem to find the right thing to say each time. I just want to go home, bathe and sleep.

U’re still at work? She asked.

No, on my way sha and there’s mad traffic here.

Pele, she said. E go soon pass.

Thirty minutes later, exasperated, I sent Rolayo a message asking if she was home.

I got home to meet darkness’ I typed. I tried to start my gen and the rope cut, and my gen guy is not free to look at it before tomorrow. I got into the house and it’s smelling bad – I forgot to warm the Egusi soup my girlfriend made, or put it in the fridge. I was still contemplating that when a roach flew on me. I just know that I can’t stay here tonight, so I’m wondering if you’ll be happy to have me over.

Her reply was almost instant.

But of course, you know you’re always welcome here.

See you in a few. I typed. I tossed a few things in my backpack, locked up the house and headed to Rolayo’s.



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Something new, Something Old

Something smooth like… Velvett!

There’s always something happening in this Gidi of ours. Never a dull moment in this city where everybody be “shine-shine Bobo”.

I was so tempted to bring you a double dose of awesome but in my magnanimous nature, I decided not to overwhelm you. Recommended doses at a time.

I have not been feeling too well lately and after work today, I was dragging my feet about going for a friend’s birthday party somewhere in Lekki. Then came the traffic to rescue me! Lagos traffic has its use after all. Lol.
Yeye me thought I had a home run till my egbon kidnapped me in her car. And off to the re-opening of the not-so-New, yet-so-New lounge called Velvett.

I must confess, I was glad I went. How else would I have ogled TuBaba all night long. Who cared if the Mrs was there? We are talking eye-candy here, don’t blame a sister.

It was a night of serious dancing and crazy fun. Oh yeah, OritseFemi was there. Look at me, I’ve become a serious las Gidi big girl, I drop names like its hot .

So Velvett… Previously known as picolo mondo, has once again stamped its name in LaS GiDi night life scene. Lagos and New York are the concrete jungles where dreams are made or broken, Velvett has with its rebranding, given another similarity with new York. If you’ve always wanted to know how the New York night life feels, visit Velvett. Care-free, delirious fun in a city that never sleeps!

Service is just as good as it always was, decor is just what you want a club to look like. The people do not put on insane airs that make you want to choke. I love it!

I wish I could say even more, but I guess I have to write about Velvett at another time when I can digest the experience without the full crowd. Hopefully they keep their salsa nights open.


Love and light,

Mizz Wakadugbe

Velvett is situated on Idejo street, off Adeola Odeku,



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