Thursday, December 27, 2007

Blanket of words, pillows of thoughts

When we met, we met at the restaurant I had picked. She came, braving the blistery winter evening and the possibility of an encounter with a psycho to dine with me in a corner booth of my favourite steak place.

She came dressed in a low cut sweater that hinted at her cleavage like a promise and a skirt that clung to her hips like second skin. When she had turned around upon her arrival, to maneuver herself out of her thick but fitting coat, I had got an eyeful of her derriere and I envied her chair because it enjoyed having that warm thickness pressed up against its face. I tried to focus on our conversation.

We had met blogging. She came on my blog with an attempt to express a difference of opinion which resulted in her insulting my choice of mine. I had tracked back to hers and it was not hard to return the favour. We were too dissimilar and yet the same. She was a gifted writer and she told me I was one too. We became regulars on each other’s blogs. One day, I received an email from her. The body of the email said simply “Hello”. I responded in kind. Two weeks later, we had graduated to a full sentence. We had been playing this game of words for almost a year. She had come to London on business. I invited her to dinner.

I don’t know what I had expected to come out of the meeting. All I knew was that for three hours, I had laughed the hardest I had ever done in all of my thirty-three years; I had listened the longest and tried most unsuccessfully not to stare at her rack. At one point, she offered to detach her bosom and give it to me if it would help me focus. I was glad I was not of a race where my skin would show my blush. I stared even harder.

We talked. We talked and we talked. She made fun of the menu. I had taken her to the swankiest place I knew. She ordered the fish and I watched in near mortification as she instructed the waiter to inform the chef that when her meal was presented, it was his duty to see to it that the food had come in contact with salt, pepper –the hot spick kind and not the one for scents-curry and fire. She got what she asked for. I was surprised but not brave enough to dictate the specifics of my own order. She did not drink and so neither did I.

We talked. We talked and we talked. I tried to explain what I did as an investment banker. I lost her three sentences in. She tried to explain what she did as a designer/ developer. Immediately she opened her mouth, I settled my gaze on her full lips and wondered away. We talked about other blogs we liked and the many scandals, issues and forums that we had been audience to. She told me which bloggers she had met. I had met only about two others and one of them was my cousin whom I had introduced to blogging. She was surprised at that. She told me about the rumours that were circulating on the blogs that I was seeing a certain blogger because on occasion, we exchanged endearments and innuendos. I was subtle but emphatic when I told her I was single.

She broke my heart when she tried not to tell me about the one she was seeing. He liked his private life private and so, she did not say much besides the fact that she was happy. I wished she wasn’t. Then maybe, if I pushed a few buttons….she reminded me without reminding me that she lived across the ocean and that in a few days, she would be on a plane back to the life that was hers…and his. I changed the topic and kept it there by talking about how my job allows me to travel and how often I actually go to the states. She told me that if I came over, they would take me to their favourite spots. I knew she meant her and him but I made my own interpretation to be her and me.

I watched her hands which she used a lot when she spoke, even when she was holding a glass. Her fingers were not slim nor were they chubby. They were just right and one of them carried the weight of huge ring she explained was Venetian glass. I did not care. I was just glad that THE finger was bare. She commented on my watch. She loved it. It was big, like hers. We exchanged watches and I watched with satisfaction as she put mine on and admired her wrist encased in my accessory. I wore hers. She wears men’s watches so I did not look like I had crossed over sexual preferences.

We even talked about family. I found myself, telling her about my father and how I felt about him; my mother whom I did not know, my step mother who had taken her position and was doing it very well, my siblings whom I loved to death especially my sister whom I was planning to shoot for what she did to my car and my God daughter, Vivienne, whom I was raising while her father was in jail and her mother in rehab. I explained Vivienne was at my sister’s for the night. She was impressed and I was glad.

She told me she had been pregnant once. She was too young and could not go through with it. It did not belong to the one she was with. He knew and did not care. I knew and did not care either and I understood. Raising a child is not easy and not something you go into without thought. That’s why Khalil and Tori got on my last nerve with the way they treated Vivienne. I was thinking of filing for adoption. I was more a father to her than anyone else. I expressed this to the woman across the table and she told me to pray about it because if my decision was born out of irritation at Vivienne’s parents and not about the needs of the girl and my love for her, then the idea was not right. I sat there and marveled at their wisdom. I was irritated at Khalil and Tori and I was enthralled by this woman from the world where we use no names and yet can say all.

It was time to go. Our magical night had come to a close. I walked her outside and waited to call a taxi. We talked some more and let about three taxi options that were called up for us go to other people. I asked her where she was staying and she told me. It was too cold and so we bundled ourselves in the next taxi that was called.

The ride to the hotel was in surprising silence. She was exhausted. She rested her head on the window with her body turned away from me. Her hand rested on the seat between us. I sat there in silent dialogue with myself, whether or not to take her fingers in mine. They lay there, just warm and inviting. I knew she would know what holding her hand meant. We were not children and she must have guessed that all night I was reacting to her and headily too.

We arrived. She got out and quickly went to the front to pay. I had handled dinner, she was taking herself home. I got out and signaled for the taxi to wait. We stood in front of the hotel with the bellman watching us to see if he needed to open the door for our entrance. She thanked me for having had fun and promised that she would have a post up about the dinner on her blog and I was to watch out at the onslaught of reactions from others on our circuit. I was known for being notoriously private.

When she leaned in for a hug, I went in for a kiss. I captured her lips deftly and pulled her in with one hand. She did not pull back but she did not return the kiss. Her lips stayed imprisoned against mine but they did not move in response. My kiss was not just a manifestation of where my thoughts had been all evening, it was a question. Her response was the answer. If she had responded, I might have lost control and mauled her on the sidewalk. She did not respond.

Releasing her was wrenching. Her hand came up to wipe away what I assume was the stain of her lipstick. I moved out of her reach, I was keeping this stamp with me if that was all I could have. Her smile was apologetic and my heart ached. Why could I not have her and her loyalty?

We were going to be friends. When I went over on business, she was going to take me around her favourite spots. I was going to take her sightseeing before she returned home. The kiss never happened. The dinner did but the kiss didn’t. And neither did the night spent lost in the sheets of the queen bed in room 3405.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

In the spirit of Chrees-maz

Bomboy: Aunty Catwalq, please tell me a story

Catwalq: (looking up from her computer) ehn?

Bomboy: Please tell me a story

Catwalq:(slightly irritated) what story do you want to hear?

Bomboy: Can you tell me about the birth of Jesus Christ?

Catwalq: ehn? What kind of story is that? I don't know that one. How about Little Red Riding Hood or Shrek or something?

Bomboy: Hmnn....okay

Bomboy's Mother: Catwalq, you don't know the story of the birth of Jesus Christ?

Catwalq: I do...I just don't feel like telling it. Let me tell him another one instead

Bomboy's Mother: Indeed...,sha don't corrupt my son

Catwalq: Haba! Aunty ki le mean? (Aunty, what do you mean?) Look Bomboy, I will tell you the story of Red Riding...nice one and then you go and play your video games okay?

Bomboy: Okay

Catwalq:(taps her chin dramatically) Okay, story story....

Bomboy: Hun?

Catwalq: You are supposed to say 'story' and then I say,'once upon a time' and you say 'time time'...what are they teaching you in school?

Bomboy: I don't know.

Bomboy's Mother: Mo gbe!!!! (I am in trouble) What do you mean that you don't know? All the money I am spending on your school fees!!!!

Catwalq: (chuckles)

Bomboy: No mummy, I know. I was just saying that they not teaching us that.

Catwalq: 'they not'? Aunty, you need to check these people out o

Bomboy Mother: mo ma daran o (I am in trouble)

Bomboy: (sulking) all I am asking for is a story nah

Catwalq: okay, okay, I'll tell you the story. Let's start again. Story story...

Bomboy: Story

Catwalq: Once upon a time...

Bomboy: Time time

Catwalq: There was a little girl called Red Riding Hood. She had seven dwarfs and she lived in a palace with her wicked step mother queen....

Bomboy: Uhm...Aunty

Catwalq: If you interrupt me, I will knock you

Bomboy's Mother: Ma na omo me o, eyin aunty oni storyteller (don't beat my child o, aunty storyteller)

Bomboy: Aunty I don't think that is the story

Catwalq: look here, it is my story. Do you want to hear it or not? Because you are the one that came to me. I am busy. Have work to do

Bomboy: But you are on holiday

Catwalq: You know what? Go and play by yourself

Bomboy's Mother: Agbaya ni e (You are a big-for-nothing bully)

Bomboy: What does that mean?

Catwalq: Be quiet. Who was talking to you? You want your story or not?

Bomboy: Ok. sorry

Catwalq: Now where was I?

Bomboy: The palace queen

Catwalq: Yes, and so she now cooked porridge. But her wicked step mother did not like her so when she cooked the first porridge, the wicked step mother was like 'It's too sweet' and the next one 'It is too salty' and the next one 'It is too peppery'...

Bomboy: Like your food...always too spicy

Catwalq: Ehn? Lenu e (coming from your mouth?)

Bomboy's Mother: (cracking up in the kitchen)

Bomboy: sorry

Catwalq: If you interrupt me the wicked woman went and asked a mirror or a cup- which one, I cannot remember- who was the finest girl in the land and the thing could not lie and told the queen that it was Red Riding Hood. The queen now banished Red Riding Hood out of the palace because she stole...

Bomboy: What did she steal?

Catwalq: The queen's Jimmy Choos.

Bomboy: What are those?

Catwalq: Something you have to buy for your wife when you start working. And she did not steal them, the queen lied on her.

Bomboy: Ok

Catwalq: As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, so the queen now banished her into the woods and then paid a wolf to go and kill her.

Bomboy: A wolf!!! Can they talk?

Catwalq: That's why it's called a fairy tale. Haba! You this boy, you are on another level o. Let me finish my story jare

Bomboy: Sorry

Bomboy's Mother: What kind of storyteller are you that someone cannot ask questions again? Didn't you used to ask questions when you were little? Abi, o ju be e lo ni ( or is what is going on more than it is?)

Catwalq: I did not say he should not ask questions. He should wait until the end when I ask him the moral of the story. Then, he can ask all he wants.

Bomboy's Mother: Oya, Bomboy, you too wait till the end. You and your Aunty are giving me a headache.

Catwalq: ese o Aunty Mi (Thank you o Aunty)

Bomboy's Mother: Iwo agbaya yi (You bully)

Catwalq: so as she was leaving, she took bread and started leaving bread crumbs on the way so she could find her way back at night.

Bomboy: Who did?

Catwalq: So you're not even listening?!!!!!! Oya, leave me if you are not listening to what I am saying

Bomboy: I am listening. But your story is confusing. I want to hear the birth of Jesus Christ

Bomboy's Mother: Leave your Aunty. When I finish what I am doing, I will tell you what you want to hear. I mean, how can we say we have an Aunty at home that cannot do one small thing. Or maybe she does not even know the story and she is pretending...

Catwalq: (exasperated sigh) The heavens are against me today. The devil is a liar. Oya, if you want to hear the story of Jesus. I will tell you but if you interrupt me even once, it is over.

Bomboy: Yeeeeee

Catwalq: Once upon a time, there was...

Bomboy: Time time...ooops. You said I should say

Catwalq: Mssstsssthw! There was a young lady called Mary of Jerusalem. She was sitting in front of her house peeling corn.

Bomboy: What was she going to use the corn for?

Catwalq: To make pap in the morning. What did I say about interrupting? So she was there doing her corn jeje-ly and rora-ly when one angel appeared to her and was like 'Boo'. So she jumped and was like "Aaaah". The angel then told her that she should not be afraid that she was going to get pregnant and have the son of God. Mary was like "What kind of nonsense prophecy is that? I don't even have a boyfriend."
The angel told her not to worry, that Joseph was going to be her husband. Mary was like "Eugh, that yeye carpenter?". And the angel was like yes. And because Mary was scared out of her jeans, she said ok so that the angel could quickly go and she could finish her corn before her mother came back from Canaan where she went shopping. That's where the Giant and Safeway of their day was.

So like that, like that, she became pregnant and she had to tell Joseph now. And Joseph was now like "Are you crazy? Who do you think is responsible?" Which was true as they had never been like boyfriend and girlfriend. That is why we say wait till after you are married to have a girlfriend, who will be your wife. Do you understand what I am saying?

Bomboy: Not really

Catwalq: That's no problem. So sha Joseph left her and she was crying and the angel came back and was like "boo" and Mary was like "leave me alone joo. I went and told Joseph that I am pregnant and he denied me. Me myself, I don't even know where the child is coming from." The angel now told her not to worry and paid Joseph a visit. I can't remember what he told Joseph but that very night the carpenter went and married Mary. I am guessing the angel said more than "boo" and freaked the poor guy out.
So sha, they were married and then there was the king in Egypt who had a vision that if Jesus was born that he would become the king of the Isrealites or I think the descendants of Moses...anyways, this guy went unhinged...

Bomboy: What's that?

Catwalq: (makes a imitation of lunacy and boy laughs) so the king, Herod was his name now ordered that all the soldiers go out and find the baby. They went all over Rome and Egypt and what is now today's Iran and Turkey.

Bomboy's Mother: I don't know what is more alarming, your version or the fact that you might have told this story in public before. Where did you get this story from?

Catwalq: Me, I am sorry o. What kind of request is it to tell the story of the birth of Jesus Christ? What happened to good old 'Eze goes to school' or 'Koku Baboni"? I am doing the best I can. I have not even got to the point where Joseph had to part the red sea to escape the soldiers.

Bomboy's Mother: Bomboy! Get up from there now before your Aunty puts me in more trouble than I am already in.

Bomboy: But I like this story. I have to tell it to my classmates when I get back to school. Mrs. Hounding told us to research the story and come and tell it in school.

Bomboy's Mother: Catwalq, you are in trouble.

Catwalq: What did I do?

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Oh la la

It is a sitting room.
The furnishings are modern, tasteful and expensive.
The walls are painted a warm green.
The brown accessories add to the feeling of an embracing calm.
On the love seat, she sits.
Her legs are crossed one over the other. The smooth skin of her legs are illuminated beneath the glow of the floor lamp that is the only light in the room.
Her hand cradles her chin and is held up by an elbow that sinks into the arm of the chair.
Her bosom rises and falls, the smooth globes of her breasts bursting against the fabric of her low cut blouse.
Her braids have been swept away from her face and so her eyes are exposed.
They are very sad but they are dry.
This is suprising because clearly someone in the room is crying.
It is not her.
It is him.
He sits on the other side of the room, on the edge of the middle seat of the sofa.
His head is bowed, his tears hidden to fall silently on the fabric of the dark grey coat that he holds limply in his hands.
He does not make a sound but even the silence knows that he weeps.
He weeps for him.
He weeps for her.
He weeps for the unborn child he would never know.
He knows why that child will never call him father.
He knows that once she rises from that chair, she will go up to her room, pack her things and be gone
He weeps because she does not weep
And he knows that it is because she has wept the last tear she will ever weep
And that means there is nothing more he can say.
She had warned, hadn't she?
They had warned, hadn't they?
You will look up one day and all you take for granted will not be there, they had all said
He had listened but too late
He had lost it all.
"Please." he tries to beg
She does not respond. She unfolds her limbs with her grace that amazes him still.
She leans forward and on the coffee table places two gleaming pieces of gold.
They are her engagement ring and wedding ring.
She gets up and walks away.
Her movement is like that of a swan.
She glides up the stairs and disappears at the top of it down the hallway to their rooms.
He is left with the demons that are his thoughts.
He thinks of what he has to do to make her stay.
She will not come back
He should let her go.
He owes her that much.
All he has put her through.
The humiliation.
The embarassment
And the loss of a child.
If he had been there, maybe he could have saved the life of their child.
He did not know that Selena would come and challenge Belema.
That there would be a tussle and that Belema would fall and miscarry.
He thinks of why he strayed in the first place
And the second and third and all the others
Selena was just the last straw
Even his friends backed off when that affair started.
Her father could destroy him and the business.
As it stood, he was going to.
Selena had been buried according to the Muslim Rites that morning.
Her suicide and letter was all over the news.
Belema just came from the hospital to get her things.
It was over
It was all over
She comes down the stairs. She is holding an envelope
It contains documents of property she owned before the marriage.
She had listened to his request that she not work while they were married.
She had stayed home.
And received one story after the other.
She walks past him and picks up her bag.
"Cherie," she calls him. She speaks french.
Boarding school in Switzerland can help ensure that.
He went to government college in Osun state.
He looks up. The despair the sight of her brings is painful.
He can barely focus.
"My lawyers will contact you in a bit. I don't want anything. When you receive the documents, sign and it will all be over."
He shakes his head.
"Belema...I am sorry."
She chuckles. It is without mirth. It is cold and cruel.
It makes him shiver inside.
"Don't kid yourself," with her accent 'kid' comes out as 'keed'. "That stupid girl did not kill my baby."
He blinks.
"I am not raising a child by myself. And I want nothing to do with you...nothing to remind me of you.So, I got rid of it."
He stares.
"Now, you and I can start afresh. You, with whatever nonsense brings herself your way and I with someone more deserving of me."
His eyes grow hard.
She waves and walks out.
She does not slam the door but the sound of it shutting echoes through his head.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007


Please o, people like Jaybabe threatening to hurt i did not send una message o.
I am recovering from exams.I am on a steady diet of sleep and nothing else for a while. I will be good to go in a day or two.
What have I missed?

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Anti-Corruption Day

When I received the email highlighting this day and inviting a blogged response, I thought this post will take five minutes. I mean, what are fifty words but two sentences? How long will it take me to come up with a post to my country and the rest of the world about eradicating corruption?
This is the fourth draft of this post. You can see my dilemma.

I have decided to share some of the creeds that I live by. The principles that I have adopted and struggle to implement so that I too, don't become corrupt.

1. Do not encroach on people and their property. And do not allow them to do the same to you: If I am conscious that my actions not affect others and theirs, then I will be less likely to partake or indulge in something that violates the freedoms of others. Corruption does that.

2. Do all you have agreed to do: If I stand before you and say that I will serve you in some way, then I will. Politicians spout whatever will get them votes or even nothing at all, attain high positions and completely forget their promise to the society to serve. It is a matter of how strong your word is. My parents don't have millions but when they give me their word, they bend over backwards to fulfill it.

3. Every thought, word or action either pollutes you or purifies you: I choose to purified. So, I will not think ill, say ill or do ill to another person. That alone ensures that I am not corrupt.

4. Be responsible for your actions: I am not of the faith where there is salvation upon calling somebody's name; a technique that some people have taken it to mean that they can do whatever they like and then after, they just erase it with some mumbled words. I pay for every action and so does every body else. If you imagine that you can get away with something because the human justice does not get you, best be assured that spiritual justice is very fair and unbiased and that as Soul, you are going to enjoy in exact amounts the returns on any and everything you do. If not in this lifetime, then in another.

5. Be clean: Body, mind and deed. In the words of Kpakpando, KPOM!!!

6. Be grateful: I could have had it worse.

7. Do all things in the name of God: I don't think God will encourage you to take what He did not give to you, so don't even think to steal in the name of God.

8. Be careful what you say: A corrupt tongue will say corrupt things. And we all know the power of the spoken word. If, according to a majority faith, God said "Let there be Light" and there was light, does it not make sense that as his offspring, we can manifest or eradicate corruption with our words.

9. Be disciplined: Do the right thing at the right time and for the right reason

10. It's a matter of choice: Choose not to be corrupt.

You might ask why I have not listed social policies. I can't think of any that do not involve people who have to make the choice to implement them. To implement policies against corruption, you have to be someone who isn't. Thus I am starting with myself and hopefully others are to.
If we all did the right thing, do you think we would need an anti-corruption day? I think not

Friday, December 07, 2007


Dear friends:

December 9th is UN International Anti-Corruption Day and Nigerian Lighthouse seeks to commemorate this day with a small but pertinent project.

The goal is to get as many people to write a 50 word (or less) message on how to eradicate corruption in Nigeria. All submitted messages will be posted at the website - .

Most Nigerians have an opinion on how to stop corruption. Here is a chance to share that idea with the world! So, simply write a message of 50 (or less) words and send it to Then send another message to your friends encouraging them to participate as well. This will only take 5 minutes of your time and the rewards - sharing ideas that will definitely improve Nigeria - is more than worth it.

Hope to hear from you all!

Nigerian Lighthouse Team

PS: To learn more about the origins of International Anti-Corruption day, please visit the United Nations page at

You can post your response as comments and I will get the information to them. Thank you for speaking out!!!!

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Letters to popular demand

Below are questions that were posed to Ms Catwalq and she has dutifully answered

UnNaked Soul said...

Is catwalq a figment of my imagination?: Depends on what you have been drinking.

Is she an alien?: Her passport from venus says citizen...if that is what you are asking.

How did you get the name "Bani-Baraje" and what does it mean? Bani-Baraje is a combination of Bani Productions and Baraje Couture...,the name of one of the other blogs that you ought to be reading. Bikonu

when is the sex part of CATWALQ ACADEMIE going to start? abi are the cast asexual?: You do realise that these students are in JSS 3? Abi, which kind of peadophillic mentality are you fostering here?tsk, tsk tsk....*clears throat* wait and see, may be there will be something soon.

1:53 AM

princesa said...

lol@unnaked! Rotten guy!!!

Catty my question is:
What is the rationale behind your cast choices? The original installments were of bloggers that I enjoyed and some that I did not quite understand.
I mean why would you cast princesa as just mumbling "yes", "Hmmm" and and cast kpakpando as the mischievous/naughty one.: Lol!!!

I need some action role abeg!: What EXACTLY do you want to do? Don't worry, the xmas show is coming up

2:41 AM

UnNaked Soul said...

since princesa wants an action role, can u star us in a coded zone scene, doing you-know-what... :-D: Unnaked, step away from your pee-pee. Keep your hands above your head

abi how u check am princesa? it will be fun I promise u...: Princessa dear, ignore him.

2:51 AM

Teediva said...

have u ever caught teediva and any of the senior boys in a err...compromising postion, seeing as she's so naughty? *lol* : well, she was recently spotted exiting from a science lab, dishevelled and harried. A few seconds later, guess who stepped out...?

7:28 AM

Atutupoyoyo said...

Madam Catwalq is it true that you faked your certificates from The Universal Institute of Joblessness and Laziness? The institute has never heard of you.: Erm, erm, I do not know what you are talking about. Next question please

Is Baraje pronounced BA-RA-JEH or BA-RAHJ?: Ba-ra-jeh. With the "jeh" having the e from "eggs" and not an "a"

Do rumours of several affairs with some UnNamed cast members have any foundation?: I thought we agreed to keep it between us, ehn Atutu? ....

How does a girl like you end up being a girl like you?: Men, that is another blog all together. You have to be born in Benin, grow up on a daily dose of books and an over protective mother, serious inferiority complex hidden by a creative mind, loneliness, overcoming near paralysis and discovering the joys of physical release. Or you can just take the short cut and smoke something.

Are you already starting to regret the promise you made to answer all these questions?: Nope, bring it on!!!!

7:40 AM

Allied said...

Is it true that you will be the first to direct a bollywood Catwalq Academie with an all Nigerian cast?: I guess....why do you think the film version will be in Hindi?

8:41 AM

Olamild said...

Na wa o

I heard that The Universal Institute of Joblessness and Laziness is very proud to have you as its first graduate, na lie abi truth? : I am their most famous graduate

Some of your fans said Your name catwalq means you like to walk like a cat and they want to ask.....Do you like cats?: I don't like any animals that I cannot eat or have tattooed on me

12:07 PM

gishungwa said...

The comments have done it for me.
Cast me pretty please with a cherry on top: Send in your application to What was your score in Common Entrance?

laspapi said...

Do you have a director's couch? Do you make use of it?: Mr. Laspapi, you have been avoiding the summons I have given you to come to my office "after school". When you come, I will answer all your questions...and more *wink*

Could you answer Atutupoyoyo's "Do rumours of several affairs with some UnNamed cast members have any foundation?": Mr. Laspapi....after school, all your needs and concerns will be addressed.....

11:07 PM

Jaybabe said... that script you gave to me, where i act against Eddiie, i don't understand, shud i be on top or Eddiie shud be on top? Coz when i read, the guidelines are written back to forth. Were you lazy or that is what we are supposed to do?: I am sorry,...what?!!!!

simplynuttie said...

Universal school of joblessness and laziness alone?: I did not get admission elsewhere

What kind of degree would you end up with after graduating or your school is for a lifetime?: I am not even sure. I think I will just be a housewife. The senate is already filled up with people with the same credentials....

exschoolnerd said...

do u sometimes get inspiration on what to write in the toilet doing a number 2? Yes...especially after taking Ketrax or expired Andrew Liver Salts...

Carlang said...

Nice post dear.
Glad to know i'm not the only one who suffers occasional mentalblocks.
You've got talent dear.
it's probably one of the reasons why i like you.

What's that?
WHat are the other reasons?
Damn it. Here comes the mental block again....: Carlang, sweetie, come and sit on my lap. Tell me what the problem is...ehn, come here

4:52 AM

N.I.M.M.O said...

After answering all the other questions, answer this:

'Is there anything else about Catwalq that we need to know?': Depends, do you have all your questions answered?


8:05 AM

Rayo said...

Can you explain to these people what "shaking plastic" is...hehehehehehe lololol!!!

*ehm...* sorry, lack of sleep.: Ashewo. "Shaking Plastic" is your plastic covered, battery operated companion...when the oga is out of town....

2:42 PM

Teediva said...

erm, and catwalq, is lagba-jess meant to mean a female lagbaja...or am i just tied up? and when do we get more gist about ur strike that out..courtesan madame?: It was Yosh that nicknamed me Lagbajess and he has let me o. he has left me. Leave my oga alone...and how do u know that she exists?

Queen of My Castle said...

LMAO!!! These comments are hilarious. If anyone can put a spark back under the once dimming World of Blogville, it's Ms. Cawalq.: Why, thank you

Question: How does it feel to be pursued by so many men of Blogville?: If it were only true....

10:05 AM

Jinta said...

Which aspects of the show got us hooked when we jumped to the 5th episode?: Haba, uncle, you did not read the series? there was the mango tree climbing episode, noisemakers list, the time I was ill and the cast came to see me, the Ghana-must-go incident and the n when anonymous gave the class something to drink....

10:14 AM


UPDATE: The fire alarm is ringing in my building right now. Me, I am not getting up from my laptop. People ask me why?
People: Catwalq why?
Ans: 1. did the fire not realise that it is snowing outside? abi, what kind of oloriburuku type fire wants to be burning at 12.15 am? And if it is a fire drill, mo sorry gan, but my yansh is not stepping outside unless I smell the smoke. And when I say smoke, I don't mean the gaseous by products of these American students trying to burn...sorry, cook chicken. Come to think of it, where is my Naija pali? And my I-20?
2. I have a project due and I am not yet done. The fire is going to have to come and drag my yansh from this chair right about now...nonsense!!!
Then, I realised that I can hear no voices in the hall way. So, it's either there is no fire or you guys are going to be reading about a bunch of roasted students in DC.

Sunday, December 02, 2007


I was sitting at my laptop, thinking of what to talk about in today's post. After erasing my eight draft, I went to my saved drafts and found this piece, I started months ago and discarded...

PinkPeke Productions: Welcome to another episode of DIS BLOGGERS SEF. Today, we are going to visit with Ms Catwalq Bani-Baraje, the creator and executive producer of the "world famous" Catwalq Academie Series. Ms Catwalq, welcome to the show.

Catwalq: Thank you very much. It's a pleasure to be here.

PP P: So, we are five episodes in and the entire country is hooked...

Catwalq: I am just as surprised. We have been getting THOUSANDS of comments and MILLIONS of letters of hopefuls asking to be cast in the series.

PP P: Wow...yeah, cos we are fans too. Where did you get the inspiration for it?

Catwalq: well, i have a professional degree in fantasizing.With a concentration in creativity

PP P: From where?

Catwalq: The Universal Institute of Joblessness and Laziness.

PP P: How long did it take you to put together the cast and crew.

Catwalq: not too long. I am the writer, director, producer, make up artist, sound editor, short the entire crew. There is a local grammar school by my house. I just sit outside and watch them pass.

I never quite got to finish it, so I am asking you to submit your questions for Catwalq and she will answer in her end of year, profile of her self. Conceited? Perhaps...but it is the easiest way to come up with a post.
So, send in your questions. They can be about anything and I will answer them in my next post.