One man that is closer than a brother. The first man I called BLOOD.



It feels so OMG when you have well wishers embracing you on a day like this. It feels even GOD I’M SPEECHLESS when you realise you share your birthday with a mentor, a leader, a friend, a scholar, a brother, and a man who understands times and season. All those words are not even close to being enough as everything about him sings harmonies like YANNI – happy birthday Mr. Possible, and happy birthday Mr. Obeezy. So let me talk about Mr. Obeezy (find the other xteristics bou me from close conversation).

Uhmm you are not probably gonna wanna sit your ass down that chair and read about the 26th of October but believe me blood, this ain’t no history on Nigeria (who e epp?); it is just an exposition having MR. OBEEZY as the sole personality for realisation, determination, and perhaps, discovery. Just thought we get formally introduced blood: I am Okocha Obed a.k.a. Mr. Obeezy (properly so called), and I am a self acclaimed paragon of gentlemanliness. Let us go back to child hood, shall we?

On October 26, bla bla bla and guess, I left mama’s womb crying as though the womb was the best place to be, or because I was in my birthday suit having my infinitesimal features on display to the presumed female doctor. If I were Lucy, I would have told you how mellifluous and graceful it was to suck mama’s breast; but then, I’ve got not a single memory of it. Inexistent in my head are my pampers’ days. As a baby, I must have done shit, parents must have seen this shit, and momma must have wiped all shit. Aaargh! The sight of that – thank God it ain’t in my head.

It was just like a fast-moving streak of light how years took turns. I left pampers stage to my all colourful Spiderman pants. I was three (maybe four) years now and of the three children my parents got, I was said to be the one with no worries. Leave Obed with his toys and you all could take a hike for all he cared (smiles). The age 3 (probably four) had good telling indeed, but then it had appalling cons that I wish were forgettable. I had my head putting on the whole armour of dandruffs; the dandruff was more of a plague, a witch hunt from haters – it was all tenebrous how my head could accommodate such a tatty and precarious identity. I was buck-toothed too, I remember being likened to Ronaldinho’s palpable gigantic front teeth. Heard this was as a result of constant intake of chilled water – probably a trunk load of mendacity. My lower lip lost the battle against my tongue which consciously or unconsciously left me disadvantaged with a sagging lower lip. More vexatious was the bracket symbol I sussed out to be my legs. Ironic would be to say that I was moderately bandy legged. At least, I was still God’s own image (abi no be so?).

I was growing into one smart, stubborn, and good looking dude now (hehe, the looking glass self). My results were dope. I really remember the competition days of not only seeking academic excellence, but the civil brawl of adding few inches to my unfortunate height so as to, not only equal my younger sister in height but, see the centre of my sister’s head. SMOOTH MOVE SHORTY, KUKUKEKE, LITTLE MAN, MAN WEY NEAR GROUND, AKAKPOR, to mention a few, were names given me by persons who found my brief height amusing, annoying, dwarfish or elf like. All Obeezy did was to sit tight and bear the shellacking. Did I say I was good looking? Well yeah the short boy still had attractive ladies mistaken him for their lovely eye pencil. I was stubborn too. I found it very easy to opinionate, was ready to avoid all forms of messages – my mama too like message gan. The more I was called to run errands, the more I was inexorably stressing IF IT IS MESSAGE, I AM NOT AVAILABLE. One, two, three, to a billion knocks were pattered down my skull by my parents in a bid to correct their son’s unwelcomed disposition to chores and errands – such a worthy comeuppance, I must say. Hey guys, I must have omitted the part were Obeezy embraced Christ’s teachings absolutely. Well it changed during secondary high when I had a lustful venture with the provocative laps of one of my family friends.
                      . . . . .

Obed is the funny guy, very skilled at making people laugh out loud. Maybe I have mastered the art oh, but I still remember the day one Bridget in sec school thought it great to nearly dismember my cheek bone by violently resting her palm on my face. If only I knew she was in no mood for my innumerable frivolous bantering, I for go another lane oh! I believe in hard work (you know…due diligence). I do not win always but I do not give quitting a chance. I am a soliloquist, a pretender on circumstances triggering it (not to my friends though), I do not have envy or jealousy as an attribute rather I give outstanding persons THUMBS UP. I do well at acting, rapping, dancing, footballing, to mention a few. Guess someone used the bowlegs for something worthwhile (winks). I am really easy to flow with, I do keep friends that are not parasitic in nature – it is always a plus for you, when the friends you got impact positively in your lives (matter of fact). Obeezy ain’t so much of a buccaneering person; I just do me and leave the rest for God. About drinking alcohol, I won’t say I am all that a teetotaller. I do familiarize myself with a grog whenever I am in a shindig, not because I like the gall taste but because I find it less difficile to blend in. In my private chamber, it is all about soft drinks, blood. I believe in the existence of true love. I believe I felt it once in sec school but without John Donne’s unruly sun’s interference, my shy nature saw love witness stunted growth. Obeezy is the emotional type but takes delight in showing it not. He is a nigga who could break the nose for another nigga. I could be sarcastic (my real guy in sec school wanted to rupture my dentition because of my sarcasm). If we go to relationships, I believe in long and serious relationships – that is more reason why I am not rushing THE SEARCH, so amma take ma time (winks). I do not know how to forget people. I have mama’s blessings, for I share the counselling gift with her. I do not joke with my beans (smiles). I always wanna learn new things, I always wanna grow, I always wanna achieve – do not tag me TOO AMBITIOUS though.

About the name MR. OBEEZY, my real guy FEMI came up with the name. He got it from BOONDOCKS. I must have added the “mister”. The nickname used to be PRONTO T – a name I gave myself during my succulent rapping and ceaseless dancing days in high school. University life, new friends, a developing character, and so on, welcomed the TRANSFORMATION. The writing thing (hmmm my new found love) started in the first semester of my just concluded 300L. It is all kudos to Christopher Awodimila. This dude is a plus to my life. He gingered me to write an article and the whole writing thing was brought to radiant splendour (I appreciate Noah for granting me my first title). Femi and Prince were there for me. Those guys shaa, they always said I was wasting my talents by folding my arms instead of putting ‘them’ to work. Thank you guys. I appreciate my birth mate, MR. POSSIBLE; you are a potential leader and an inspiration. That I have stepped up the writing game is because THE SCRIBBLER, my friends, family, and well wishers did (and still) support me. Lord Davidson (a leader, and a wise one), I greet you. The LEGAL WATCHMEN, ur boy is loyal – the fealty I swore is eternal. Thanks BRAINS, Clinton, fat Mike, and so many others… SUI GENERIS (winks). I am MR. OBEEZY, the short black boy with the attitude; any other soul distinct, be it Lamar, Messi, and ko, check their birth dates, it ain’t OCTOBER 26.
                                                                                        OKOCHA OBED.

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