It is in Nigeria you hear of someone who was a waiter at a lounge becoming a billionaire—poof!—just like that. In Nigeria, you could be selling bread today, and tomorrow you’re being courted by several brands, all eager to sign you on as an ambassador for amounts of money you never knew could be earned in a day.

Overnight success is the second-best kind of story Nigerians love which is closely followed by “I escaped poverty by clawing my way out of the deepest trenches.” We love a good grass-to-grace tale. After all, how else will we keep believing that one day we’ll move from chasing danfos to riding Lambos? We need that belief to cope.

Which is why Nigerians have a deep-rooted derision for those born with silver spoons in their mouths. But sadly, in this game of life, those aren’t the people you can afford to hate for long. So Nigerians have learned to curry favour from them by offering unsolicited rim jobs, tongues with rough textures from nutrient deficiency induced by poverty stuck deep in soft-skinned anal sphincters of soft ajebos or those who have escaped poverty in the last batch of faith shinning luck on them.

Slurping expensive shit, just so that one day, someone will go down and do the same for them, stick their tongues up their own asses and bring them to earth-shuddering euphoria from “egorgasm” with a nonstop flick flick of the tongue.  And what is egorgasm? Egorgasm is a word I coined which means reaching the peak of one’s sense of self-worth from nonstop ass-licking from a perpetual famzer. You know that Nigerian moment when praise singers are hailing you so much you start tossing your live savings and inheritance at them? Yeah that is a form of egorgasm.

My Oga! That hailing with arms spread wide and sweaty armpits bared, is not different from the girlies posting pictures of babes they want to be friends with, captions dancing between obeisance and envy. It’s the same energy as the men who nearly tumble over themselves trying to record a snap with someone they worship.

Chairman!

My Oga!

I be your boy o. I dey humble.

After you no one else Mama!

Everybody is fighting for their life!

It’s even worse in a city like Lagos. Aside from the sizeable number of people ready to become something either by hook or by full-blown fraud, there are the rest, in corporate offices, falling over themselves to impress their superiors.

They dish out excessive compliments to the point of physical cringe. Of course, everyone’s trying to look out for themselves, by subtly employing manipulation tactics to tilt promotions in their favour. But come on, this man just made a dry joke about the economy and you’re laughing hahahaha like a hyena, like you’re not the one jumping buses and showing up to work each morning, sweating profusely like a Nigerian dwarf goat.

‘’That is so wise sir.’’ They would say to random hyun-hyun-hyun okoto meow yarns from their superior.

‘’You look gorgeous today ma.’’ They would say to the woman on the management team with her lopsided Chinese wig and ugly fashions.

I hate that it often works. Because what happens to stubborn goats like me? The goats who have chosen not to play these ass-licking games? I’m tossed in the naughty corner like a petulant child while they shower you with promotions and perks. Haba now.

Why not face your job squarely instead of bouncing from office to office, lying from both sides of your mouth?

“Mrs. Ejalonibu, have you resumed at the gym? You’re looking extra fine and trim today,” they’ll say smoothly, to the woman in HR who has looked perpetually pregnant since you joined the company.

One such ass-licker is so devoted; he even throws in bonus dick-riding and sucking as if rimming is not enough. He is ready to contort himself into any shape and form just to inflate someone’s ego. Expert Tongue-fu master, he will deflect, change his words and chameleon his way when the target is heading towards another direction in any verbal conversation.

The Licked says ‘’I hate how the country…’’

‘’Yes o, we hate the country it is unfair how poor we are and…’’ The Licker responds with bulging eyes vibrating excitedly from the need to make a point.

‘’I hate how the country doesn’t separate poor people from rich people so they won’t be disturbing us with their ghetto rubbish.’’ The Licked completes their statement their nose sneered as if they could smell the poverty.

‘’That is correct, in fact we should be breathing different oxygen if it were possible!’’ The Licker halts mid statement, reversing hurriedly, forgetting they are part of the poverty stricken lots The Licked wants to be separated from.

For the ones among them whose destiny forbids breakthrough in life. You would see them in ministries or government offices loitering around still looking well worn. Sometimes they are part of government aides struggling to make by or still working in an organization with nothing to show for it except their tongue muscles getting constant workout from nonstop flattery. While for others it is not only profitable but have led to immense success that they then decide to take it as a full-time job. They don’t audit anything; they don’t research anything, they just flatter and dedicate their whole lives to seeing green as violet. All they have to do is tell a big man or woman that what they’re doing is excellent, even when it is absolute nonsense.

Unfortunately, these are the people surrounding our leaders in government. I’m sure they even hail and clap when such a person makes the most abysmal, country-regressing statement.

‘’I am going to make things way worse than they are right now.’’

And what follows? Claps. Cheers.

“Nice one! Well done! This is the best thing to ever happen to our country!”

We’ve seen it: a street urchin turned government official offering kundus to stakeholders, cheered on by those around him. And the claps? It was not to cushion embarrassment—no! This man uttered his kunduses confidently.

We watched a full room of people clap while the number one citizen of this country mumbled incoherent “ehehehebananashehj” mid-speech, swaying like an intoxicated agbero trying to hassle you for pelebe – satchet gin money in Ojota. And instead of someone cutting the mic or quietly ushering him off-stage, they propped him up with even louder applause.

Me? I’m not against ass-licking. But if you must lick, please lick the right ass, to reduce the risk of E. coli.

So, tell me, have you ever ass-licked your way to the top? Don’t be shy.