BODA KOPA, THE SLAUGHTERER OF WOMEN.

Before you say I am back again with my troubles, before you think I am the eye which sees all let me inform you that I tried my best to look the other way countless times. But somehow, some way I just couldn’t turn the blind eye to every issue.

What I am about to say all began one afternoon, this my neighbour – a regular, degular, shmegular guy next flat brought home a girl. It wasn’t my business but I took out time to check her out. All went the way it often happens (they took themselves into the inner room). Few days after or was it a week? No, it was few days after, my neighbour sauntered into the compound again, his muscular arms swinging on both sides. What do i care about muscular arms? I concentrated on my mango and kept on eating. Five blinks after, this curvy caramel skinned beauty followed, threw me a greeting and followed him inside. Well it still wasn’t my business but then it struck me, the girl who came the other day was so dark and so slim that I kept wondering where her behind went. This one had hers shouting to everyone that is around to look at it. I forced myself not to think much of it afterall it wasn’t my business!

Few weeks after, I was on my way out when I saw a lady alighting from a bike. I didn’t think much of her presence as I boarded the bike she came with. I had totally forgotten about her until I got back to the lodge and I saw my neighbour walking out with this lady, his signature leer was on his face and his arms were as usual swinging from side to side. I couldn’t help but wonder. Why different ladies every day? A voice rang loud and clear in my head ‘what do you expect? It is service year and some male corp members want to have a fill of women before they go back home.’

Really? Really? Oya clap for yourself! Boda Kopa of the slaughterhouse whose only ambition during NYSC is to taste the different flavours that come with different vagina. Clap for yourself again now, the almighty Floyd Mayweather, expert boxer, punch specialist, pounder of life. I said you should clap for yourself! Driller of different holes, I am sure by now you would have realized some grounds are hard to dig while some are wee easy to dip your tool in and others are in between. Shame on you!

Please I am not being judgemental here, I have tried a number of times to look the other way but human nature eventually took over. I couldn’t help but voice out my irritation and it turned out mine was nothing compared to another neighbour whose room is very close to his and as a result receive a fair share of different tones, variating pitches and melodies. How sonorous!

Not long after boda Kopa became a topic of gossip in the lodge. Those who could rub his bad behaviour to his face did it without holding back. Those who couldn’t resorted to going over it under the mango tree and would continue to talk about it boldly even when he joins them… in their local language for boda Kopa’s language is different. Different stories about boda Kopa that you wouldn’t know the one to believe. Some said he knew the girls before NYSC, others said he met them briefly and managed to convince them to visit, some even said the girls could be his students while some also said the girls are barrack girls and they are usually known for their loose legs. How stereotypic.

Boda Kopa is said to be a smooth operator, that he doesn’t waste his meagre allawee spending it on the different girls he keeps instead boda Kopa will enter the kitchen the moment they arrived, cook up something nice and tight and feed them. He made me realize girls can spread their legs like news if you are a man and you can cook!

Boda Kopa also made me realize all isn’t as it seem. He proved what I have always heard one day when he strutted in like a peacock thinking himself the grand one who has singlehandedly dragged out a hypocrite’s ugly face for the whole world to see. Ladies and gentlemen a lady dressed in long gown and a big hijab followed him…in!

Haaaa!

I watched with dismay as other members of the lodge who were outside burst into a derisive laughter. Their reason? He brought home an Alhaja this time. Hahahahha not funny.

Boda Kopa would engage every lady that catches his bulging eyes into a meanginless discussion. Girls that came to fetch water, girls on the road, girls at a restaurant, girls on the roof, girls on the tree, girls everywhere and anywhere.

Boda Kopa is one out of a thousand other male corp members or even more who has made it a point of duty to lay with anything. The ones in the village go after the naive village girls and change them like pants. The ones who happen to be teachers codedly gobble their students one by one, some are even crazy enough to follow a list. They thrust and thrust until they bit more than what they could chew and end up with sores and pus. Some get their heads knacked by spiritual pigeons and find themselves forever enamoured by a village champion. Others become baby daddies and go back home after one year with their box, their certificate and a bundle of joy in tow.

But is it worth it? You answer. The service year is not the time for you to prove your player ability, it’s not the time for you to let the Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, Igbira, Urhobo demon part of you take over. The enjoyment is sweet and temporary but what comes after is a bitter pill that you will keep swallowing. But then, who am I to tell you how to live your life? What do I know?