Episode Four: Muddling Through

Lola's Diary

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Episode Four: Muddling Through

                                       From Episode Three

The b*tch is raving mad. She is screaming expletives and out of control.
“F*ck your college ass! F*cking gold digging moron,” she vomits her rabid trash into the public space disturbing the neighborhood and making a nuisance of herself.
I was scared for a minute.
What day is it? I ask as she continues to holler causing a scene.
“Keep your mother f*ucking mouth shut and hand me my car keys” I demand.
We are both screaming at the top of our lungs and people wouldn’t know the difference. So I paused and watch her foam in the mouth like a growling dog.

Episode Four

Yipee! It’s snowing. I look out the window as snow flurries and then snow chunks drop down from heaven like Manna. Perhaps I should just stay in... or go out for the new year. Snowstorm and major blizzard has virtually closed the east coast.

Hmmm. Manna. Manna… I break into a song. I could do with Manna right now my Lord. Any spiritual or divine nourishment that you can send my way right now will be appreciated. I hear snow plows digging through and clearing snow as they clear the street outside.
Anyway, the Manna of Tunji?  Oh! I need to bring you up to speed.

Episode Three: My Personal Insecurities

Lola’s Diary

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From Episode Two

“Calm down Lola,” I appeal to myself.
I started walking to my car and she runs after me, reaches in my car and grab the car keys from the ignition.
“Oh no you didn’t,” I say and fly into a rage.
“Get the f*ck out of my car…” I scream.
Frightened, Deola jumps as this mad woman plucks the key out of the ignition and pockets it.

Episode Three: My Personal Insecurties.

The b*tch is raving mad. She is screaming expletives and out of control.


“F*ck your college ass! F*cking gold digging moron,” she vomits her rabid trash into the public space disturbing the neighborhood and making a nuisance of herself. I was scared for a minute.
What day is it? I ask as she continues to holler causing a scene.


“Keep your mother f*ucking mouth shut and hand me my car keys,” I demand.

Episode Two: Are You Kidding Me?

  Lola’s Diary
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From Episode One.

“Oh I’m sorry officer,” I say softly.
He nods gently and I hand him the documents. He walks off toward his cruiser and stays for what seem like an eternity. Then he comes back and hand me my license, registration and believe it or not… a ticket!
A frigging in the rigging god forsaken unhealthy ticket.
“F*ck him, what nerve,” I curse.
“That’s just what I needed,” I remark quietly.

Episode Two: Are you Kidding Me?

“That’s a warning! Get it taken care of right away,” the State Trooper says politely.


I feel a rush of relief and a sense of guilt for cussing at him.
“I will,” I say in a cracked voice.
“Good, have a good evening ma'am,” the officer replies.
“Oh thank you,” I add.
I have been under a lot of stress lately but when I pause to think about it. State Troopers are there to keep us safe. I should always remember that! Something tells me that I wouldn’t feel that way, had I received a $100.00 ticket and not a warning ticket. It’s amazing what grace can do.
I pause for a few minutes and gather myself not caring about that F*cking sitter.


"Oh! Pardon my poor manners, I didn’t introduce myself,"


My name is Lola Campbell and I have been in Washington for 7 years. I work as an attorney at Spivak& McClellan a media entertainment law firm on K Street in D.C. I’m a graduate of the University of Lagos, attended Law School in Victoria Island and was called to the Nigerian Bar.


Anyway, that’s enough about me.

Episode One: State Trooper

Lola’s Diary

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Just my luck! This is the second time in a week that I get stuck in traffic. I’m in a bumper to bumper grind as I cross the 14th Street Bridge from D.C into Virginia. I see Crystal City to the left, the Pentagon to the right and smile as I think of Tunji at the “Chic Club” last night. Tunji is a great dancer and just an all round great guy.
“Why can’t he just spend more time with me?” I ponder in frustration.

I remember doing a slow dance with him on the dance floor when he kissed me. My heart raced.

The Review of "A Ritual of the Monkey"

I first fell in love with the story of Ezra and Sacha Cantrell when I studied Political Science at the University of Ibadan. I was twenty-five years old and had been commissioned an officer in the Nigerian Air Force. But it wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that I thought about writing something that involved Ezra and Sacha's story. I’ve probably attempted to write this book for over a dozen years and in over a dozen ways.

Thanksgiving and Skyline Drive

The drive by the Shenandoah National Park took us to the top where everything looked small and insignificant. The grandeur is another thing by itself. We made a few stops along the way at our favorite overlooks and stopped at Big Meadows to spend some time. I for one got on the hiking trail and spent some quiet time. When next we go, I promise to visit the park's wilderness area. It offers outstanding opportunity for solitude and recreation. But before you cock your head and start thinking “Weirdo”. Wilderness offers respite from hectic daily life and provides natural habitat for wildlife and wildflowers. I sure would love to contemplate the human history held within the mountains. That will be nice, wouldn’t it?

No Need for Rancor

A sprawl with slow moving parts, ancient chains fastidiously anchored, rigid in its murk and slow to change. Lagos can be exasperating. Bristling and sunny, it is almost certainly humid and very hot. Temperatures soar to a muggy 101◦ F boiling with varying emotions. A pulsating city with nerve, it bristles with easy virtues at the edge.

The Flow of Love

The freedom of mind sets me free from the chains of the world
You are a constant flow of love and your oxygen is pure in form.
Regal in elegance, strong and ever present.
The opportunity of thought presents a rare reflection.
Here the lively dangers meet the robust night.
An appealing and utterly welcoming excitement.
Yet your image calms me with the lush of serene waters.
Your brook quiets my longing heart and nourishes me with strength.
Oh! How sweet and peaceful.
My constantly changing emotion is constant with you.
Smitten, you charm me daily, give me strength, and make me strong.
What luck, what destiny…

Island of Bliss

The Island is a sure bet. A two person live performance lulls the senses at Federal Palace. Then by Onikan, the city mall pours with fun and cheer. The nearby Suya spot makes eyes at me, beckons with a tempting salacious summon. My loins bleat at the mouth watering thrill.

Lagosians are eternal pleasure seekers and the island is an oasis of activity. The city never sleeps. It throbs and bubbles like a giant pot of stew dancing to a pulsating enigmatic rhythm.

"No can do!" I turn back and say to a trail of wanderers as they eye their new cash cow. I make haste to outdistance the herd. Wearily, they lost the contest. I reappear at the other end. With bravado, I climb into my personal adventure capsule and depart leaving the bright lights for a calm lagoon.

Hillary the African Despot

Now, Hillary is a far cry from Africa. Perhaps of Irish extraction like her husband Bill. The distance from the African continent is no less attractive and she has even a most admirable persona. Stoic in crisis and calm in dignity, Hillary personifies a clintonite from a pedigree as recent as the monica crisis. She has been known to be indignant in the past few months and that is quite understandable. Who wouldn't? after squandering over two hundred million dollars on an election that's supposed to be hers. How dare Obama? Who is this goon that came out of the boonducks? Came out of the left field to be a spoiler, to what we had planned since the beginning of Bill's presidency. Perhaps even before. Lets admit it, Barack is a fly in the ointment. To come and steal what is rightfully ours is unforgiveable.

For some reason, I can't think of Hillary without thinking of Mobutu Sese Sekou, Jean-Bédel Bokassa, Idi Amin, General Gnassingbé Eyadéma and more recently Robert Mugabe. But banish that thought. Hillary, please remain calm and quiet amid the noise and haste. It will keep you going. because you need it for the long haul. Like Bill Clinton, stay put and sit tight until the last dog dies. A familair phrase? of course. No one is more admirable.
I admire your strength Hillary. Who cares about Africa?