Ah! I am dancing Azonto oh. God punish Satan! I am the happiest man alive, jor.
The haters of Brother D’Banj can now die miserably. They can now soak their testicles inside hot water. Rubbish people! They shall live and not see. I mean, they shall look and see nothing pleasant. Anyone who doesn’t want good things for my brother must have a one-way ticket to hell.
Boko Haram in their grandeur shall locate them. Their family members shall have nothing but periwinkles for breakfast and dinner. They shall walk along the way aimlessly and dispassionately and motorists shall target their clean clothes with dirty water. Bad dreams will be their portion!
It is not a small thing oh. This country of ours gets interesting by the day. I am afraid for those who are dead. They are missing out. They are not getting a bit of the fun at all. Poor bastards! It is a bad day for them. They are not living to see fame and its rave. There were the days of Eedris, that noisy (w)rapper who wanted for fight Prof. 50 Cent because of bottle water. He would sing about money and we won’t see the money.
Today we see monies. We see the men adorning the monies. These monies sometimes are plastered on clothes. Kai. I am glad my elder brother, Senator D’Banj, is the first to have this type of attire on the face of planet earth. At night, I will crawl to his wardrobe and view it properly. I am yet to touch it to know the type of fabric that was used. I don’t trust those loud mouthed Okunoren Twins.
When night falls and everyone has gone to bed, I will inhale the fragrance of the dollar bills on that suit and see the possibility of cutting out some. Rev Fr. Pof. Alinko Dangote and Bishop Ibrahim Babangida should take a cue and design agbada made of naira or Euro. As for Linda Ikeji who refused to publish my Open Letter to Brother D’Banj, I wish she finds time to visit a tailor around Yaba, for her dress, maybe the little black dress made of money. I like her legs. I wish to see the faces of those pathetic patriotic Nigerians on the N1, 000 bills drape her fine backside to the ground. This country is ours and nothing can stop our shine!
So the media went abuzz with the news of my elder brother’s Suit of Money. Hmm. Lazy people, who won’t mind their individual businesses! I was seated in the same room as Brother D’Banj when those Okunoren Twins came in. They looked hungrily at me like they were going to devour me. They asked who I was. I was scared at the fire in their eyes. I gulped a lot of saliva, struggling with a magically dried throat.
Brother D’Banj laughed and pointed at a portrait on the wall. A side of the wall in our sitting-room has photographs. The image Brother D’Banj pointed to was the photograph of our daddy, a smiling yet proud man with an afro hair style. The opaque photograph with mother in a skimpy dress and a height-enhancement facility for shoes was one that fitted the room, declaring that we are proud of our parents.
It must have been after a particular disco that the photograph was taken. The couple looked amazing in it. Brother D’Banj asked if they knew the two people who were standing, holding each other like they were going to miss themselves shortly after the photographer was gone.
The twins answered in an unclear language and said they looked like our parents. Brother D’Banj asked if they could see the shape of the nose, of dad, particularly, from where they were seated. They moved closer, examined the nose, its wideness and the two large openings that gave man the grace to breathe.
They declared that I looked like father while he looked like mother. He then told them that I was his younger brother and that I could sit and listen, after all they were ordinary tailors, ready to gain stardom by using needle and thread and the crisp dollar bills that Brother D had brought from the US. I sat and they would not stop eyeing me like I was a distraction.
They measured all that could be measured. Brother turned around. They examined his butt and giggled. They asked if he wanted the trousers to look like pyjamas or something skinny so his groin can be seen by those universities girls who starve to save money to attend shows, either to get laid by a celebrity or to snap a photo and tweet how close they were to my brother. They had done it to our cousin, Davido.
Although some people said it was a lie that David was actually in a room with the girls, busy with them. That his small waist ehn. Kai. These siblings of mine won’t have me choked on my eba oh. The twins asked if he would wear the suit to his DKM concert and he stood up, looked at them and screamed “BangaLee!” They fretted, adjusted their seats and agreed to deliver before the day of the concert. They talked about power failure and how the I-Pass-My-Neighbour generator they had hadn’t been friendly. Brother D’Banj left them with a cheque and they disappeared with sprinkles of happiness accompanying them.
This is money speaking! My brother is blessed amongst many. It is written in the Holy Book that: blessed shall be the children of Abraham. No weapon fashioned against the favoured shall prosper! It is not that my brother is the best rapper of singer in the world, but Oluwa has been involved in his affairs. Oluwa has been a key player in his life. Those days in London when he was just a dreamer, people saw him and laughed. Each time he window-shopped; those Oyinbo people will pursue him like fly. Today, these same buffoons scream his name. They worship him. They spread legs for him. Imagine. Bloody bastards!
Hmm. One of those American people who usually refer to Africa as a country was already calling Brother D’Banj for a show. He had been informed about the DKM concert through Skype. People call him 4Chains. He is one of the men who wears dog chains around as swag. Nonsense! He told Brother D’Banj that he was on his way to Nigeria once his ticket was arranged.
He had taken a taxi to the airport to find out the price of flight to Nigeria. He didn’t mince words when he declared that he was broke and that Brother D’Banj should send him something as all they showed in their music videos were mere charade, trying to deceive poor innocent Africans, boys and girls alike, those who are glued to MTV and Sound City. Brother D’Banj murmured about his spending and told him to expect something through Western Union. The pathetic Americana screamed thanksgiving and jumped around.
We could hear him rejoicing and calling on Jesus to locate Brother D’Banj and shower blessings in form of Hurricane Katrina. He even gave the phone to his mother to help thank Brother D’Banj. He asked if there would be electricity for the DKM show and Brother D. halted him, declaring in an annoying mannerism “Feele!”
Now that my brother has a suit worth the salary of an American President, abi na senator, we are sure Oluwa is fully involved in our lives. We are sure all that we have been praying for is finally taking its place. We have involved our family pastor. You remember that man who blessed us the first time Brother D. won an MTV award? Yes. The man who showed us to the world and then asked us to kneel? He will be the one to conduct a thanksgiving service for Brother D. Everyone, friends and well-wishers, especially is expected to come dressed in black tie. It is a thanksgiving like never before.
There would be food and free buses to convey those who may not have money to attend. There will be free bed space for very pretty, unapologetically alluring single sisters, who are well endowed, with succulent boobs and catastrophic backsides, and those not-so beautiful sisters who would be led by methylated spirit to drop their clothes on horny brothers. We’ll appreciate it. We are hereby asking the Lagos State Government to declare a one-day public holiday to encourage this illustrious son of Africa; a man of timbre and calibre, a man of dreams and entertainment. Brother D’Banj is a man who is showing the world that we are indeed great people in Nigeria, united as a community and surrounded by poverty and its jurisprudence. On the same day, we are launching the video for the gospel song by Brother D’Banj entitled “Top of the World.”
Stay blessed and run away from any gathering of lazy idiots who have nothing but a bottle of beer, serving six pathetic heads, criticising a hardworking brother.
Nwilo Bura-Bari Vincent