Tuesday, 24 October 2017


I had been waiting to hear from him. Or at least from his Personal Assistant. I needed the documents I had requested for to publish along with his interview which had to be on the newsstands by Monday, which was only three days away. The SMS he sent to me simply read: "meet me at the same club where we met the other day by 8 pm, a friend's birthday party is holding to night." 
That arrangement didn't sit well with me one bit. The club in question is somewhere on the Island and the meeting time is 8 p.m! My car has been faulty for a while now, taking a cab from the Mainland to the Island around 8 pm and then returning to the Mainland later same night would surely drill a pretty decent hole in my budget. But, then, did I have any other choice? This was part of what I signed up for as a journalist. I arrived the club at a quarter past eight and waited at the lounge for 'Oga' to arrive. I'd already notified him I was waiting. He arrived few minutes to nine and asked his P.A. to come bring me in. I was led through the exquisitely designed interior of the club. It was already filled to the hilt. Heavy music banging, guys and ladies of various shapes digging it out profusely on the dance floor. What more could I expect, it was Friday night, wasn't it? 

The atmosphere looked so strange to me, I guess its because
its been a while I went clubbing. We came out through a back door that ushered us to an open ground at the back of the club. It was the swimming pool section of the club. Lots of people were there already, I mean, lots of elderly men, politicians, businessmen, in their sixties and seventies, decked in casual wears, were throwing banters, back slapping, hugging and shaking hands. At the far corner of the pool was the DJ who apparently had been instructed to play nothing but old school music. "Oga's" P.A. showed me a seat and asked me to enjoy myself while I wait for his boss to come attend to me. Some scantily dressed girls were serving food and drinks and from the look of it, they were obviously briefed to be prepared to 'serve' much more than drinks, judging from the way they revealed cleavages and wriggled their backsides each time they walked past. Then, about thirty minutes after, they arrived! It was possibly the most shocking sight I'd beheld in recent time. There must've been well over sixty of them. Already in their bikinis, with their young boobs and bums jiggling all over the place, these young girls, obviously University undergraduates, were mostly in their teens, with perhaps just a very few of them a couple of years above twenty. Without needing any prompting, they joined the party and plunged into the waiting arms of these randy, irresponsible men who were old enough to be their fathers. And, as though I hadn't seen enough, I soon noticed that many of these young girls were either puffing sticks of cigarettes, taking heavy alcohol or inhaling pretty hard drugs. 

It was like they were in competition, with each one trying hard to impress 'her man' to ensure he keeps her for the night and pay good money for her services. They were practically all over the pot bellied 'Babas,' wrapping their slim, curvy bodies all around them in a bid to ensure they get ample feel of their near naked boobs. My heart sank deeply. What in heavens name has the society turned into? For God's sake, whats gotten into the heads of these irresponsible, shameless old men? But more importantly, whose children are these lost and almost forsaken, spoilt brats? I stared up into the dark cloud as I remembered my own little sixteen year old girl who's just making her way into the University. My mind shuddered at the very thought of her getting involved in this sort of madness. I was saying a silent prayer in my mind when I realized somebody had taken a seat beside me. I turned and found a cute, dark and curvy lady with perhaps the finest eyes and lips I'd ever seen, smiling sexily at me. She couldn't be more than eighteen years of age. 

"Hello, sir, can I chill beside you for a while, if you don't mind?"
Her voice sounded as cute as she looked. I nodded in the affirmative. But I found I needn't have bothered anyway, she was already seated even before she sought my approval to do so. And before I could take another look at her, she took out a stick of smoke (not cigarette) and lit it up before taking a long drag from it straight into her tiny young lungs, and by the time she let out the huge puff through her nostrils, I knew this was a wild and reckless eighteen year old.... (To Be Concluded) 

Written by my colleague; Wale Lawal

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