Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the wordpress-seo domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/bcm/src/dev/www/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6121
Interview With... | Zikoko! Interview With... | Zikoko!
  • Interview With Cucumber: “It’s My Time to Shine”

    Interview With Cucumber: “It’s My Time to Shine”

    Zikoko arrives at a local market where foodstuffs are rumoured to be cheaper. In a corner, a commotion ensues between two traders: Pepper and Cucumber. Customers leave Pepper’s stall for Cucumber’s as the shouting match grows louder. Bystanders watch, with no one attempting to quell the fracas. Out of concern, Zikoko approaches the scene.

    Zikoko: Please, take it easy. What’s the problem?

    Pepper: Who is this one? What’s your business?

    Zikoko: My name is Zik—

    Pepper: Abeg, getat. You no go face wetin you come market for?

    Zikoko: Ah, sorry. I thought…

    Pepper: You thought what? Please, leave this place and mind your business.

    (Zikoko turns away, muttering “Na me fuck up” under their breath.)

    Cucumber: Hey! Ziko! Abi what did you call your name?

    (Zikoko turns back.)

    Zikoko: It’s Zikoko.

    Cucumber: Sha come. What do you want?

    (Zikoko approaches Cucumber’s stall.)

    Zikoko: I want pepper. I heard it’s cheaper in this market.

    (Cucumber shoots Zikoko a criminally offensive bombastic side eye before speaking.)

    Cucumber: Had it been I know you, I for give you a dirty slap.

    Zikoko: Ah. What did I do?

    Cucumber: So you think you’re better than all these people in front of my stall? Ehn?

    Zikoko: No now.

    Cucumber: What is no? Oya, go to Pepper now. Let’s see how you’ll use ten pieces of tomato and rodo to make one pot of soup.

    Zikoko: But I’m confused. It’s pepper I want and you’re selling cucumbers.

    (Cucumber turns away, attending to other customers like Zikoko isn’t there.)

    Random customer 1: Boda Zikoko, people are now using cucumber to supplement pepper. That’s why we’re here. It’s cheaper.

    Cucumber (cutting in): For now o. For now.

    Random customer 1 (continues): …and it tastes just as good.

    Zikoko: So you mean I can use cucumber to make soup?

    Random customer 1: Haven’t you been seeing the Instagram chef videos on social media?

    Cucumber: Help me ask him o.

    Zikoko: I thought cucumber was just for garnishing food and making healthy smoothies?

    Random customer 2: I even heard some ladies use it in za other room.

    (Cucumber leaps into the air, screaming.)

    Cucumber: Tufiakwa! Evil people. They’ve come again to spoil the good things happening in my life with rumours and “them say, them say”. Oya, you!

    (Cucumber points at random customer 2.)

    Cucumber: Vamooze from my sight. Vamooze if you don’t want me to comot your teeth just now.

    Zikoko: Please, calm down.

    Cucumber: People like that want to ridicule and reduce me to an object of pleasure. They make people ashamed of associating with me in public.

     [ad]

    Zikoko: So sorry about that.

    Cucumber: Abeg, keep your sorry. You’re not blame-free. 

    Zikoko: Me? How? What did I do?

    Cucumber: Reducing me to something used for culinary aesthetics and discarded after?

    Zikoko: But, isn’t it a good thing to help people stay healthy?

    Cucumber: It’s good, but boring. The world doesn’t want boring. Nobody remembers you if you’re boring. It’s like a snake leaving no prints on a mountain. I want to be remembered for being the life of the party; the one people want every day. The one people can’t do without. Not the one treated as an afterthought.

    Zikoko: I see. So, you’re getting that now?

    Cucumber: Oh yes. I’ve been given a second chance, which is long due, and I plan to ride this wave for a long time.

    Zikoko: But are you not getting ahead of yourself here? People still need pepper, even with you as a supplement.

    Cucumber: Oh please. That one? Didn’t you see the display earlier on? He who the gods want to destroy, they first run mad.

    Zikoko: I’m not sure I get your drift.

    Cucumber: Pepper has had it coming for a while. Going into scarcity on a whim and leaving people to spend 100x the amount. The other day, I heard jollof made an off-white outing. Imagine jollof and off-white in the same sentence? Jollof that used to be red with hotness. God, abeg.

    Now that people know there’s more to people like us, Pepper is getting jealous. E never see anything.

    Zikoko: Sounds like a war is brewing.

    (Cucumber’s phone rings.)

    Cucumber: Hello? Have you set up the meeting date? We need to sustain the momentum now that the world still has our attention. If Gbigbe refuses to join the coalition, we’ll go to Gigun. If Gigun refuses, we’ll find a way still.

    (Cucumber hangs up.)

    Zikoko: Who was that?

    Cucumber: You mentioned something about a war.

    Zikoko: Yes, I did.

    Cucumber: That was Carrot. We’re close to signing a deal with Atagbigbe and Atagigun.

    Zikoko: Pepper’s relati—

    Cucumber (cutting in): Tah! Relatives for where? People only remember them when Pepper chooses to go MIA. They’re seeking an escape and stand to benefit more from this deal.

    Zikoko: I see. So the enemy of your enemy is your friend?

    Cucumber: Precisely. If Rodo, Tomato, Tatashe and Shombo want to move like the world belongs to them, we’ll teach them a lesson.

    Zikoko: I heard you say your price is cheap just for now. That means you want to move like pepper too?

    Cucumber: Before? You think I came to this world to count ceilings? I won’t deny that I envy what Pepper has. I want that for myself.

    Zikoko: But the people have turned to you because you aim to ease their suffering and offer a cheaper alternative.

    Cucumber: For more than a month now, I’ve kept my prices between ₦200-500. But from next month? You’ll see the real me.

    Zikoko: So this is how you want to use your second chan—

    Cucumber (cutting in): Is that the time? Come and be going, please. I have an appointment with a Fitfam juice company.

    Zikoko: But I thought you—

    Cucumber: You thought what? That I’ll put all my eggs in one basket? Leemao.

    Read this next: Tomato Is Expensive Again, but These Simple Hacks Will Help

  • Interview With Doughnut: “I’ve Seen Terrible Things”

    Interview With Doughnut: “I’ve Seen Terrible Things”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Doughnut — or the milky variation of it — has gained popularity with Nigerians over the past few weeks. However, it seems not every type of fame is welcomed.

    Thanks to Doughnut’s busy schedule, this interview is happening weeks after they actually reached out to Zikoko.

    Zikoko: It’s nice to finally have you here.

    Doughnut: I wish I could say the same.

    Zikoko: Why not?

    Doughnut: Can’t you see the way I’m looking? Don’t I look sick and manhandled to you?

    Zikoko: I thought that was the look you were going for. 

    Doughnut: I’ll let that slide because I need your help, and I don’t have much time before I resume my hard labour. 

    Zikoko: Who’s subjecting you to hard labour?

    Doughnut: Is that a rhetorical question?

    Zikoko: …

    Doughnut: You want to tell me you’ve not heard people singing my name these days? From Instagram bakers to WhatsApp vendors, it’s like everyone suddenly remembered I exist. 

    Zikoko: Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, you’re famous because more people are interested in you. 

    Doughnut: That’s exactly my problem. This sudden interest has done me more harm than good. I was a simple, minimalist snack. Just mix flour, butter, sugar, and I’m good to go. A proper low-budget babe, and I liked it that way. 

    But you see Nigerians? They can never let a good thing be. Now, I look into the mirror and don’t even recognise the snack staring back at me. Ah, I’ve seen terrible things. [Shakes head in regret]

    Zikoko: I feel like I know where this is going, but can you explain more?

    Doughnut: That thing you’re thinking is exactly my problem. Whose idea was it to add milk abi whipped cream to me and change my name to “Milky Doughnut” without consulting me?

    Zikoko: How were they supposed to consult —

    Doughnut: It would’ve even been better if these bakers — if they can be called bakers — had kept to my minimalist style and added the milk in moderation. But no o. They decided to disfigure me with their milk concoctions till I looked like something that belonged on a kayan mata vendor’s page.

    Zikoko: TBH, it looks weird.

    Doughnut: God will bless you o. That’s why I came here. So you can help me beg them to stop it. As I speak to you now, a Doughnut somewhere is being torn open and then suffocated with milk. What happened to sprinkling a little sugar on top if you’re feeling adventurous? I wasn’t made for this life, please.

    Zikoko: It’s likely just a fad; everyone will soon be tired.

    Doughnut: That’s what I thought too. I thought, “Surely, the price of milk will soon discourage these people”. But I underestimated Nigerians. Your country people are now filling me with beans, ogi and even avocado.

    Who did I offend? Very soon, someone will wake up with the bright idea to stuff me with groundnut paste and pepper and call it something like “Nutty Doughnut”. I can’t let it get to that. You people need to stop with these creations.

    Zikoko: Hold on. Groundnut paste and pepper don’t sound so bad. Imagine how those flavours will complement each other.

    Doughnut: Are you kidding me right now?

    Zikoko: But why are you so resistant to change?

    Doughnut: It’s not the change I’m avoiding. It’s that you Nigerians don’t know when to stop. That’s how one tribe started with just liking pepper. Now, they cook pepper with a dash of food. For another tribe, it’s remaining small for them to put crayfish inside cake. You people have started by pouring one tin of milk inside a baby-sized doughnut. Should I wait until I become extinct?

    Zikoko: Hmm. I get your point.

    Doughnut: I can feel another Instagram vendor summoning me to complete her latest creation. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Please, save me.

    Zikoko: That’s a lot to ask. Saving people isn’t exactly our field of expertise. But we’ll be praying for you.

    Doughnut: Ehh God. 


    ALSO READ: Interview With Subsea Cable: “My Life Is in Danger”


    The biggest women-only festival in Lagos is BACK.
    Get your tickets here for a day of fun, networking and partayyyyy

    [ad]

  • Interview With Subsea Cable: “My Life Is in Danger”

    Interview With Subsea Cable: “My Life Is in Danger”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Nigeria and a few other African countries have been hit with poor internet issues and downtimes since March 14, 2024. According to reports, this was caused by damaged subsea cable. 

     The question on most Nigerians’ lips remains: “Who even entered the sea to cut the cable?” Zikoko sat down with Subsea Cable to find answers.

    [Zikoko walks into a dark building]

    Zikoko: Hello? Anybody here?

    Subsea Cable: Identify yourself and recite the password before you take another step.

    Zikoko: Password? 

    Zikoko mutters to self: Wetin my eyes no go see for this work?

    Zikoko: Nobody gave me any password o. Isn’t that you, Subsea cable?

    Subsea Cable: Yes, it’s me. Sorry, I’m trying to protect myself. This is new territory for me. But why are you just coming? They warned me about Nigerians and lateness. But I thought you understood the gravity of the situation.

    Zikoko: You’re the one who refused to send me your location. You kept saying I should walk straight and turn left when I see an abandoned NEPA transformer. Do you know how many of those there are in Nigeria?

    Subsea Cable: It would’ve been easier if you agreed to meet me under the sea like I suggested. If not for my life that is in danger, would I have left where I was to come here?

    Zikoko: Me I don’t use to enter the sea o. You’ve never heard of Yemoja? But wait, did you say something about your life being in danger?

    Subsea Cable: Yes. That’s why I called you. I need advice on how to protect myself.

    Zikoko: Is it because of the cut you sustained last week? You look like you’re much better now.

    Subsea Cable: Yes, I’m undergoing repairs. But that’s not what I mean. Some fishes have been whispering to me about how some African governments are considering making my “injury” a regular thing.

    Zikoko: What do you mean?

    Subsea Cable: Well, they noticed and liked how everyone stopped complaining about their incompetence and focused their attention on swearing for whoever cut me.

    Zikoko: Ehen, that’s true. Who even cut you in the first place?

    Subsea Cable: Are you listening to what I’m saying at all? I’m telling you that I’ll soon become like your National Grid. You know, the one that’s always collapsing.

    Zikoko: Wait, let’s get to the root of the original injury first.

    Subsea Cable: Look, I don’t have time. I have to return to my office before they report me missing. Can you at least help me secure some police officers to escort me and keep me safe? I heard you people are the giants of Africa. Surely your police are the best, right?

    Zikoko: LMAO. Is there a rock under the sea where you live?

    Subsea Cable: As how?

    Zikoko: Because you must be living under it. I thought you supply the internet for a living? 

    Subsea Cable: So your plan is to insult me?

    Zikoko: Oya sorry. Let me get this straight. You need a bodyguard to follow you under the sea, abi?

    Subsea Cable: That’s what I’ve been saying since.

    Zikoko: And the person will be with you 24/7?

    Subsea Cable: That’s the idea.

    Zikoko: I have exactly who you need. They say he doesn’t sleep till 4 a.m., and he allegedly built a whole city single-handedly, so coming up with strategies to keep you safe will be soft work for him.

    Subsea Cable: Wait…isn’t that your pres…?

    Zikoko: Say less. DSS knows our office. Do you accept or not?

    Subsea Cable: See who I’m even discussing my problems with. You didn’t hear when I said some African governments are planning against me? In fact, I’m out. Maybe Ghana can help me.

    Zikoko: Wait na.

    [Subsea Cable storms off in disgust]


    The biggest women-only festival in Lagos is BACK.
    Get your tickets here for a day of fun, networking and partayyyyy

    NEXT READ: Interview With Noodles: “I’ve Left the Trenches and Don’t Plan to Return”

    [ad]

  • Interview With NEPA: “The National Grid Is Resting. You Should Too.”

    Interview With NEPA: “The National Grid Is Resting. You Should Too.”

    Zikoko hears the commotion on the other side of the hotel room door before it opens and NEPA enters.

    Zikoko: Are you not hot?


    Nepa: Is that how they greet your elders where you’re from?

    Nepa takes the seat opposite Zikoko.

    Zikoko: You’re wearing agbada and fila in this heat? The greeting can wait, Sir.

    Nepa: Small heat that is outside? 

    Zikoko: The heat is inside, too.

    Nepa: Where? My friend, blast the AC and let us hear word.

    Zikoko: With which light?

    Nepa: Ehn, if there’s no light you can on your gen nau. Abi, are you a JJC?

    Nepa opens a bottle of champagne and pours himself a glass which he offers to Zikoko.

    Nepa: You want?

    Zikoko: I want us to talk about the light issue.

    Nepa: There’s no issue. We’re just on a small break.

    Zikoko: Ehn?

    Nepa: Don’t they go on breaks in your office?

    We have gone off. If you people don’t like it, go and hug a transformer.

    Zikoko: 

    Nepa: Relax! There’s no light. Nothing will happen to you. The whole system is doing one kind because of the contract staff we hired. Give us some time, and we’ll be back.

    Zikoko: Like how long?

    Nepa: 

    Ehn, some time. It’s not like I don’t want to work o. It’s just that I’m a very busy man.

    Zikoko: Even right now that you’re on a break?

    Nepa: Of course.

    He takes a sip of his champagne.

    Nepa: I’m into import and export, supply and demand.

    Zikoko: Then, supply us with electricity nau

    Nepa: Come, don’t make me angry. I said we have gone on a break. When you people were going on your December break, shebi, they allowed you.

    Zikoko: So you decided to go on your break in February when they’ve dragged us to sit at Satan’s right hand in hell?

    Nepa: God forbid. You and who are sitting with Satan? Look, I am Nepa, I can do whatever I want. Plus, the national grid needs to rest. Shebi you people kept complaining that it was breaking down. I’ve given him a break. You’re welcome.

    Zikoko: But the heat and lack of electricity is almost as bad as that Indomie and bread combo.

    Zikoko pauses and looks around.

    Zikoko: How does this place even have light? Is it gen?

    Nepa: Generator? In my building? No o. Steady power supply.

    Zikoko: If you’re giving this place electricity, then share some with the rest of the country. Do you like how they’re insulting you?

    Nepa: Insulting who? They’re not insulting me o. They’re insulting “the Neps”. 

    Zikoko:

    Sir, why did you ask me to come here?

    Nepa: That’s the question you should’ve started with. You’d have saved us all this back and forth.

    They hear a knock at the door. 

    Nepa: Ehen, he’s here. Come in.

    The door opens and a man walks in with a big carton in his hand.

    Zikoko: Did it get hotter in here?

    Zikoko fans themselves.  furiously. Nepa looks up at the man.

    Nepa: You’re always doing too much. Zikoko meet Heat.

    Heat: 

    Zikoko: Ehn? What does that even… Why is he even…

    Nepa: Shebi you people are looking for who to insult? Insult him.

    Nepa gets up and brings the content of the box out one by one.

    Nepa: Me, I’m just selling my generator batteries.

    Zikoko: 

    Nepa: Any type you want, I have it.

    Zikoko: This… this is what you brought me here for? This is what you left your job for?


    Psst! Have you seen our Valentine Special yet? We brought back three couples – one now with kids, one now married and the last, still best friends – to share how their relationships have evolved in the last five years. Watch the first episode below:

  • Interview With Chibuzor Ramsey: “I’m the Ram That Brings Everyone to the Yard”

    Interview With Chibuzor Ramsey: “I’m the Ram That Brings Everyone to the Yard”

    Obviously, we were at our own Burning Ram, so we got an exclusive interview with the star of the day, our raffle draw prize, Chibuzor Ramsey Thee Ram.

    Zikoko: Ramsey!

    Ramsey:

    Zikoko: My idolo! 

    After you, na you. There’s no counterfeit. My goat.

    Ramsey: 

    Ram.


    Zikoko: Sir?

    Ramsey: My name is Chibuzor Ramsey Thee Ram. Did you hear “goat” in my name?

    Zikoko: 

    Okay, sorry. Our bad. Do you have some sort of beef with go…

    Ramsey:


    If you’re going to disrespect me, you better move from my front. People want pictures with me.

    Zikoko: Don’t be angry. We just wanted to find out if you and “that one” had issues. We won’t lie, you guys look like you share the same daddy.

    Ramsey: Are you calling me ugly?

    Zikoko: Never!

    Ramsey: Take it back. Take it back before I ram into you. Look at me, take a good look at me, then go and look at that ugly, smelling thing. Do we look alike? I have horns, do goats have horns?

    Zikoko: Well, ye…

    Ramsey: Please, we’re not the same. I’m a hard worker, I’m tough, my people give limited edition suya, for God’s sake.

    Zikoko: That’s true. Ram suya does taste really nice.

    (Someone comes to take a video of Ramsey, and he turns to Zikoko.)

    Ramsey: Shift.

    Zikoko: Hmm?

    Ramsey: Can you leave my video? Leave my video, please. Thank you.

    (Zikoko steps to the side.)

    Zikoko: How does it feel to be popular?

    Ramsey: Great.

    (He turns to Zikoko.)

    I’m finally stepping into my glory. This is what I was born to do, to be a star.

    Zikoko: Fame looks good on you.

    Ramsey: You can see it too, right? Imagine if it was a goat?

    Zikoko: So, what’s next for you? Do you have any plans?

    Ramsey: I should be asking you that question.

    When I’m done here, what’s next? You people will put me in a hotel until #BurningRam2024, right?

    Zikoko: 

    Ramsey: I know the economy is moving funny right now. But you people need to make the money move and put me in the presidential suite of Eko Hotel, nothing less. 

    Zikoko:

    Ramsey: I’d also need an assistant and a manager. Free tickets to all Zikoko events are a must. I want a spa day after this too because you people’s sun wants to burn me frfr.

    (Ramsey looks up and sees Zikoko in the distance.)

    Ramsey: Zikoko! Did you hear all I said?! I have needs, and you need to meet them!
    Zikoko: When you meet your new bestie, you can tell them all your needs!

    Ramsey: Ehn? Zikoko!!

  • Interview With X Premium: “You Too Can Cash Out”

    Interview With X Premium: “You Too Can Cash Out”

    Zikoko walks into an office with gold-plated furniture everywhere.

    Image source: Luxuryfurnitureandlighting

    Zikoko: 

    Twi… X?

    X Premium turns around on her swivel chair with arms spread wide.

    X Premium: Welcome.

    Zikoko: Thank you.

    X Premium: Come, sit.

    Zikoko: Yeah.

    Zikoko looks around the room.

    Zikoko: I just need to take in the decor of this place.

    X Premium: It’s great, abi? When they said I should come in for the rebrand, the first thing I did was the office.

    Zikoko moves further into the room, cautiously.

    X Premium: I’m sure you’ve heard of all my exploits.

    Zikoko: Exploits?

    X Premium: You know, the great things I’ve done with X.

    Zikoko: Yes, I know what exploits means. I just can’t believe you used it to describe your deeds.

    X Premium: Do you know I bring in the money in this place? I’m the boss.

    Zikoko: What happened to Elozonam?

    X Premium: Who?

    Zikoko: Right, I had that conversation with the bird. I’m talking about Elon.

    X Premium: Oh, him? He’s the boss too. He likes to call me his brainchild. But I run things around here, so who’s the child now?

    Zikoko: Huh?

    X Premium: 

    Let’s forget about that and focus on all the great things I’ve done.

    Zikoko pulls out a pen and notepad.

    Zikoko: Like what?

    X Premium:

    You’re joking, right? I’m making people blow. People are cashing out.

    Zikoko: Yeah, how does that work?

    X Premium: You don’t sound impressed. Why don’t you sound impressed?

    Zikoko:

    Me? I’m impressed o. Ahh. Only you by yourself, you’re doing poverty alleviation scheme.

    X Premium: Thank you! You get the vision.

    X Premium goes around her desk and throws her hand around Zikoko’s shoulder.

    X Premium: See, one day I had a dream. Solve world hunger.

    Zikoko: Via Twitter?

    X Premium:

    Zikoko: Sorry, X.

    X Premium: Yes. 

    Zikoko: So your subscribers are paying you to solve world hunger?

    X Premium: Technically, they’re paying each other. It’s a great way for money to circulate.

    Zikoko shuts the notepad and bends down to pick their bag.

    Zikoko: Every time I conduct these interviews, I hear rubbish.

    X Premium: Where are you going?

    Zikoko: Back to my office before you use aspire to perspire so you don’t expire to finish me.

    X Premium: So you don’t see the vision?

    Zikoko: Mama, there’s no vision. Nobody can see anything. You just wanted people to subscribe and post longer tweets… exes… exclamation points? Woh, whatever you’re calling it now. It sha wasn’t working.

    X Premium: Please, leave my office.

    Zikoko: I was already leaving. You and your fake gold office can continue the good work.

    Zikoko walks out and shuts the door.

    X Premium: 

    It’s real gold!

  • Interview With That Big Brother Naija Toilet: “This Feels Better Than Competing for the ₦120m.”

    Interview With That Big Brother Naija Toilet: “This Feels Better Than Competing for the ₦120m.”

    Zikoko sits at their desk, rifling through papers, waiting for 6pm to hit, so they can be free from the clutches of capitalism, when the strong stench of bleach fills the air. They look up and see a toilet float in.

    Zikoko:

    The toilet stops at Zikoko’s desk and descends.

    BBN Toilet: Hi

    Zikoko: Since Monday?

    BBN Toilet: Sorry, I had work.

    Zikoko: So did I.


    BBN Toilet: Yes, but we have different jobs.

    Zikoko: 

    Why are you smiling like that?

    BBN Toilet: Like what?

    Zikoko gestures  at BBN Toilet’s face.

    Zikoko: That. You’ve been shining your teeth since you … floated in.

    (under breath) What am I even doing?

    BBN Toilet: I’m just happy.

    This is the best feeling in the world.

    Zikoko:  Stop. Please, come down.

    BBN Toilet descends with a giggle.

    BBN Toilet: Sorry. Work has been so good lately, I can’t believe my employers love me this much.

    Zikoko: 

    They told you they love you?

    BBN Toilet: Obviously not. I can just feel it.

    Zikoko: Because they hold meetings and cry around you?

    BBN Toilet: You saw it too abi? They love me.

    Zikoko: Maybe you’re just the only place they can get some form of privacy.

    BBN Toilet: 

    Zikoko: Look, I don’t want to sound like a hater, but I swear they were just leaving skid…

    BBN Toilet slams their hands against Zikoko’s table.

    BBN Toilet: That was a mistake, and it got cleared up.

    Zikoko: They throw up in you.

    BBN Toilet: That’s literally what I’m here for. I take their shit and provide them with a listening ear. Why can’t you understand that?

    Zikoko: deep breath

    So, this listening ear, have you always provided it?

    BBN Toilet: I’ve tried, but, no one’s really seen me for me, until this season. You don’t understand, they love me, take care of me

    Zikoko: Again, please remember the skid marks.

    BBN Toilet: Why are you trying to steal my joy? They think of me as a friend.

    Zikoko: Even…

    BBN Toilet: Yes, even when they throw up in me. They bring their face close to me, and caress me …

    Zikoko:

    Okay, thank you so much for coming.

    Zikoko stands up.

    BBN Toilet: I should leave?

    Zikoko: No. Never, I would never chase you away. You can stay and leave when you want. I have some business to take care of, so I’m going.

    BBN Toilet: 

    You’re going to see my friend?

    Zikoko: No.

    BBN Toilet: Yes, you’re going to see my friend that works here. Say hi to them for me.

    Zikoko: I’m not … goodbye.

    BBN Toilet: Bye.

  • Another Interview with Threads: “Is This What Love-Bombing Is Like?”

    Another Interview with Threads: “Is This What Love-Bombing Is Like?”

    Zikoko walks into a bar outside Meta HQ and sees Threads drinking away its sorrows. It was a harrowing sight, so we decided to engage it in conversation.

    Zikoko: Ahn ahn, Threads. Long time no see.

    Threads: Don’t patronise me. Leave this place.

    Zikoko: But you wanted us to patronise you last month. Why are you giving mixed signals?

    Threads: How can you even accuse me of mixed signals? After everything you guys did to me.

    Zikoko: (Scratches head) Sorry o. What did we do? A lot has happened this year, and we can’t remember everything.

    Threads: We literally spoke a month ago. 

    You and everyone else acted like I was the app you’d been looking for all your life. You made me think I was the best thing ever — 30 million sign-ups in less than 24 hours. You people love-bombed me. 

    Zikoko: What do you want us to say? It wasn’t us.

    Threads: Are you gaslighting me right now?

    Zikoko: Oya, wait. Listen to me. We can work things out.

    Threads: You all said you loved me because I wasn’t toxic. Only for you to start breadcrumbing me. You people barely open me anymore. And now, you want me to open up to you? 

    On top of that, you went back to your toxic “X”.

    Zikoko: (quietly blushing at the mention of “X”)…

    We’re… we’re sorry.

    Threads: Save it, please. You’re all scum.

    Zikoko: There’s just something about “X”. We just don’t have that fire with you. But you deserve better.

    Threads: Please, shut up.

    *Bursts into hot tears*

    My God will judge you.

    Zikoko: Oya, stop crying. It’s enough. Sorry. We’re here for you.

    Threads: Promise?

    Zikoko: …


    NEXT READ: 24 Hours of Threading: A Report Card for Twitter’s New Rival, “Threads”


  • Interview With Tequila: “I am a Legend”

    Interview With Tequila: “I am a Legend”

    Zikoko stares at their phone as they walk into a bar.

    Tequila: Zikoko?

    Zikoko: Hmm? 

    Tequila: Zikoko!

    Zikoko: 

    Tequila: Join me

    Zikoko: No, thank you.

    Tequila: Ahan, are we not friends again?

    Zikoko: When did we become friends?

    Tequila: Zikoko!! Feel free, relax.

    Zikoko looks around the full bar.

    Tequila: It’s for me. They’re here for me.

    Zikoko: Is it your birthday?

    Tequila:

    Zikoko: 

    Tequila: You’re joking, right? Obviously, you know why they gathered for me.

    Zikoko: 

    Tequila: Ahan. My album just dropped na. Hot stuff, fire music.

    Are you hearing that song right now? That’s me.

    Zikoko: Actually, that’s AG baby.

    Tequila: What’s the name of the album?

    Zikoko: That doesn’t matter. 

    Tequila: Just say it.

    Zikoko: Tequila Ever After.

    Tequila: Gbam. That’s it. The album and I are namesakes, which means the album is mine.

    Zikoko: That’s not how it goes.

    Tequila: Tequila Ever After. I’ve become a legend.

    Zikoko: Because Adekunle Gold put “Ever After” beside your name?

    Tequila: I’ve been a legend before then. Don’t look at me with small eyes, I’m big. Big buzz, if you try me, you go loss.

    Zikoko: Who dashed you?

    Tequila: 

    What’s your favourite liquor?

    Zikoko: Wine

    Tequila:

    Tequila pours a clear liquid into a shot glass.

    Tequila: Drink.

    Zikoko sighs and takes the shot.

    Tequila: How was it? Shebi it was smooth?

    Zikoko: That doesn’t prove anything

    Tequila: It does. I do my work, and I do my work well. No complaints.

    Zikoko: (under breath) Gin does her work well too.

    The music in the bar stops and everyone turns to Zikoko.

    Zikoko: 

  • Interview With Puff Puff: “Anyhow You Want, I Can Give It to You”

    Interview With Puff Puff: “Anyhow You Want, I Can Give It to You”

    Zikoko sits in the corner staring at their half-eaten plate of small chops when they hear the drums.

    Puff Puff dances into the office, followed by her local drummers and entourage.

    Zikoko: This is… 

    Puff Puff: My friend, join me to dance! You know my story.

    Zikoko: I don’t want to be that person but… we’re on the clock.

    Puff Puff: That’s true. You’re right. 

    Puff Puff sends her entourage away and finally takes her seat.

    Zikoko: Welcome back to Interview With.

    Puff Puff: Thank you o. Thank you. The last time, I was here with those ingrates. Today, I have the floor.

    Zikoko: Ah yes. You people’s association of finger foods they don’t send message.

    Puff Puff:

    Zikoko: I’m talking about them, not you. As we can all see, you’re thriving on your own.

    Puff Puff: Say it again. Those small children wanted to drag space with me. Me! But look at life now. I will always be on top, and they’ll remain under me. They don’t even have the range I command.

    Zikoko: Speak your truth, Puff Puff. 

    Puff Puff: Me that I was so good they named me twice, that low-budget gala, and the triangle one that’ll continue to have identity crisis. They hate on me, but I showed them.

    Zikoko: Name and shame them, Puff Puff. Name and shame them.

    Puff Puff: Spring roll and samosa, I’m talking about the two both of them. Because I was having a bad year, they thought they could insult an OG like me.

    Zikoko: But people are still complaining about you. 

    Puff Puff: Where?

    Zikoko: Ahh, everywhere o. They’re complaining about all the shape-shift you used to shape-shift.

    Puff Puff: Me, shape-shift? I don’t do that. 

    Zikoko: They’re also saying you’re in your identity crisis era.

    Puff Puff: Me?

    Zikoko: They said you’re doing too much. Today, pepper. Tomorrow, Noreos. The day after, Oreos. The people are starting to get scared. They don’t know what they might find when they bite into puff puff these days.

    Puff Puff:  

    They’re all haters and clout chasers, and they can’t even cook.

    Zikoko: Shhh.

    Puff Puff: Don’t silence me. Customer is right, customer is right. Today, customer is wrong. I give people variety. However you want your puff puff, you can get it. If you dream it, you can achieve it.

    Zikoko: Word. 

    Puff Puff: Vanilla, chocolate, peppery, strawberry

    Zikoko:

    Puff Buff: You’re right, I shouldn’t be giving people ideas. If they sha don’t like one, they can find another that suits their taste better.

    Zikoko: True.

    Puff Puff: Why is your face still like that?

    Zikoko: Sorry, that your strawberry comment just made me remember rainbow puff puff.

    Puff Puff: What’s wrong with that? Same wonderful taste in different colours.

    Zikoko: 

    Puff Puff: Sorry.

    Zikoko: Please, tell us about your come-up story.

    Puff Puff: Hmm, I know I don’t look a day above 19…

    Zikoko: 

    Puff Puff: …but I’m old. I’ve been in this food business for a while now. It hasn’t always been stable, but I’ve always had my people and fans, the popping puffers, behind me. 

    Zikoko: That’s the name of your fanbase?

    Puff Puff: It’s not good?

    Zikoko: If your fans like it.

    Puff Puff: Aren’t you a fan?

    Zikoko: 

    You got me, you got me.

    Puff Puff: Anyway, my core fans have always been there, but the haters always hate and spread rumours about me. They started with the playground lie, and that one made things tough for a while. 

    Zikoko:…

    Puff Puff: I now decided to join those ingrates and their useless small chops association. That’s when the haters started coming from everywhere to insult me. They said I was always too much. Before nko? The people that fill the pack with me know I’m the life of the party. That’s why they want me there.

    Zikoko: It’s like you have plenty haters and enemies.

    Puff Puff: Shebi, you too you are seeing it.

    Zikoko: You don’t think it might be because of your bad behaviour?

    Puff Puff:

    Are you one of them?

    Zikoko: One of what?

    Puff Puff: My haters.

    Zikoko pushes their plate of small chops away, with its ten puff puff pieces laying in the cold.

    Zikoko: Never

    Puff Puff: Better 

    Zikoko: Before you leave, do you have anything else you want to say to your haters?

    Puff Puff: Shame to bad belle people. I am the winner, you are the loser.

  • Interview With Rollercoaster: “Now, Why Am I in It?”

    Interview With Rollercoaster: “Now, Why Am I in It?”

    Zikoko sits across from their interviewee in a well-lit studio.

    Zikoko: How are you?

    Rollercoaster: I’m fine

    Zikoko: You’ve been in the news this week

    Rollercoaster:

    Once. I was in the news just once.

    Zikoko: Okay…

    Zikoko slides a piece of paper to Rollercoaster

    Zikoko: Do you know them?

    Rollercoaster stares hard at the paper

    Rollercoaster: Sorry to these men, I do not know them.

    Zikoko: They seem to know you

    Rollercoaster: Okay, but I don’t know them

    Zikoko: According to them, you’re very familiar with their love life. They think you’re some sort of recurring feature.

    Rollercoaster: I’ve been dodging questions about this thing all week. I’m not among abeg.

    When you people said you wanted this interview sef, I thought we were going to talk about something else

    Zikoko: Like?

    Rollercoaster: My job. My years of experience. How I make people happy, spicy, keep things exciting…

    Maybe… let me see that paper again.

    Zikoko passes the “Nigerian men” paper to Rollercoaster again.

    Rollercoaster: Ahh, I know them. Those are my guys

    Zikoko: Two minutes ago, you didn’t know them.

    Rollercoaster: Ehn, but now I do, and I understand what they were saying. It’s just that they didn’t know how to explain it.

    Zikoko:

    Rollercoaster: You see me now? I’m Rollercoaster

    Zikoko: You don’t mean it

    Rollercoaster: I go up and down, and make you happy, and excited…

    Zikoko: We’re still talking about you abi?

    Rollercoaster: Yes, now. You’ll feel everything o, but while you’re going through it, I’ll be there with you, no leave, no transfer. That’s what the men meant.

    Zikoko: Are you serious abi?

    Rollercoaster: Hmm, you people don’t know anything.

    Zikoko signals the crew to turn the lights off

    Zikoko: It’s okay. Thank you for your time. No wonder all of them were calling your name.

  • Interview with Threads: “Come to Me All Ye Who Are Heavy Laden” 

    Interview with Threads: “Come to Me All Ye Who Are Heavy Laden” 

    Zikoko walks into a big corner office in Meta’s HQ and sees Threads lounging in a big seat.

    Threads: Welcome!

    Zikoko looks around the office.

    Threads: You like it, right? It’s mine.

    Zikoko: Is it?

    Threads: I have my own computer and chair, and look at my coffee station.

    Zikoko looks at what Threads is pointing at — a tray with 3-in-1 coffee sachets, two plastic cups and a hot water flask.

    Zikoko: So you left Twitter for…

    Threads flies out of her executive chair and shuts the door.

    Threads: Don’t say that name here.

    Zikoko: But that’s your former employer.

    Threads: Please, the fact that people make a couple threads on that app doesn’t mean anything. I’m my own boss now.

    Zikoko: You answer to Instagram and Meta, so technically, you’re not.

    Threads:

    Did they send you?

    Zikoko: Who? 

    Threads: (whispers) Twitter. 

    Zikoko:

    Threads: 30 million sign ups in less than 24 hours is not beans o. They must be astonished by my good fortune. 

    Zikoko: Okay, that was actually impressive. How did you do that?

    Threads:

    What can I say? The work speaks for itself.

    Zikoko:

    Threads: Look, it’s not my fault that app is going to shit. I didn’t tell anybody to put a daily limit on tweets or to make videos stop in the middle and start playing from the top again. I didn’t ask anyone to make their app glitch. It just did.

    Zikoko: The app started to behave one kind sha.

    Threads: Okay, you too you’re seeing it. That’s why I made my app. It’s a safe space for all who are tired of that mess. You already know the people on the app. You just have to sign in and… thread?

    Zikoko:

    Thread: Tread carefully.

    Zikoko:

    Threads: Yeah, me neither. Sew?

    Zikoko: It’s not the worst. But “Tweet” still sounds better sha.

    Threads: I’ll think up something better later.

    Zikoko: You should.

  • Interview With Shame: “Even If You’re Shameless, You Still Need Shame.”

    Interview With Shame: “Even If You’re Shameless, You Still Need Shame.”

    Shame has been dragged back and forth for too long, with some people claiming they don’t need it and others claiming they do.

    Today on Interview With, Shame has decided to break his silence with five words.

    Shame: Take me or leave me.

    Zikoko: Sir?

    Shame: That’s all I have to say. 

    Zikoko: That’s what you called us here to say?

    Shame: Is there supposed to be more? Look, what a thousand-year-old tortoise sees on the back of its shell, a newborn won’t see it, even if he stands on the back of another tortoise. But on this matter, everybody is seeing the same thing.

    Zikoko: Meaning?

    Shame: This life has spoilt.

    Zikoko: Sir?

    Shame: Yes. You people have been saying you can’t shame the shameless, you can’t shame the shameless. Now, everybody is roaming about without shame.

    Everybody’s nyash is in the open. You people just open your mouth to tell everybody your… What do you people call it? When you lose, when you fail at something? It’s a letter. Remind me now.

    Zikoko: L? 

    Shame: Exactly. 

    Zikoko: That’s fine. Some people actually think it’s motivational.

    Shame: 

    To tell the internet secrets that even the military shouldn’t be able to get out of you? 

    Zikoko: It’s not like they are sharing security details.

    Shame: Ehn?! Please, don’t come into my house and lie. I will not accept that one. Ahn ahn. 

    Zikoko:

    Shame: See, I’m not saying you people shouldn’t say what’s on your chest. I’m just saying some of you need small shame, just tiny. Tell them to come here with their party pack or cooler, and I will give them. 

    Zikoko:

    Shame: The way you’re doing now, it’s like I’m telling you to beg them to patronise me, and I don’t like that. I don’t want their money, please. Right now, I’m doing charity. Come to me all ye who are shameless, and I will give you shame.

    Zikoko: Just like that? 

    Shame: Just like that. Are you not tired of seeing things that don’t concern you all over the internet? Things your eyes should never see?

    Zikoko: Now, it sounds like you’re running an ad.

    Shame: I don’t think you heard the “charity” I said the first time. I’m not doing it for myself o. It’s for their good. Because the next thing I’ll hear now is, “Who shame help?”

    If people had me, they would not spend five days talking about one thing that doesn’t concern anybody.

    They’d remember they have a job and a life. Half of the internet wahala would be gone.

    Zikoko: I don’t think that would solve it.

    Shame leans on his cane and gets up. 

    Shame: That’s your business. 

    They said you people have been shouting “Bring back shame. Bring back shame” since. Tell them that I’ve been here — no leave, no transfer. If they want me, they should come and get me.

  • Interview With Mini Skirt: “Let Your Legs Breathe”

    Interview With Mini Skirt: “Let Your Legs Breathe”

    Mini Skirt walks into the room, hauling a big bag.

    Zikoko: Hi… welcome to Interview With 

    Mini Skirt: Thank you. 

    [Mini skirt pulls out two lapel mics and transmitters. She hands one to Zikoko]

    Zikoko: What’s happening?

    Mini Skirt: They said this is the best place to clear the air. 

    [Mini Skirt mounts a ring light in front of the table and sets her phone] 

    Zikoko: Who said?

    [Mini Skirt stops and stares at Zikoko]

    Mini Skirt: People. 

    Zikoko: Okay. Can you at least tell us what’s in the air that you want to clear?

    Mini skirt:

    I thought you’d never ask. 

    [Mini Skirt sits and holds the mic to her lips]

    Mini Skirt: Hi. First name, Mini. Last name, Skirt. If it isn’t the size of a belt, and there isn’t a possibility of your nyash getting air time, then please, stop giving it my name.

    Zikoko: Oh, that’s it? I thought it was something serious.

    Mini Skirt:

    That isn’t serious? There are clout chasers out there, trying to attach themselves to my brand, and I’m supposed to keep quiet? Zikoko.

    Zikoko: Oh no, never. That’s not what we’re saying. It’s just the way you came in and set up all your equipment. It looked like we were about to get an exclusive. You know, a tell-all.

    Mini Skirt: On what?

    Zikoko: Where you’ve been all this while…

    Mini Skirt: Did you people put me anywhere? I’ve been in my house.

    Zikoko: No, we mean before you and the sabi girls struck a deal.

    Mini Skirt: What deal? There’s no deal. Sabi girls are bad bitches, and they sabi things. They know I’m the shit, and they’re not afraid of my power.

    Zikoko: What’s your power?

    Mini Skirt:

    I’m the elevator.

    Zikoko: [Zikoko looks up from their notepad] Hmm? 

    Mini Skirt: I elevate any look. You can pair me with anything, and I’ll still be the star of the show. That’s why they call me small but mighty.

    Zikoko: Who calls you small but mighty?

    Mini Skirt: People.

    Zikoko: They don’t have names?

    Mini Skirt: Do you have a problem with me?

    Zikoko: Sorry?

    Mini Skirt: I see you with your palazzo, so obviously, you like to suffocate your legs. Maybe that’s why you feel some type of way about me. It’s okay, Zikoko.

    [Mini Skirt takes Zikoko’s hands] 

    Mini Skirt: It’s alright. You can let your legs breathe.

    Zikoko: My legs are just fine.

    Mini Skirt: Are you sure about that? If my brand isn’t your thing, I have a friend — Ashewo Shorts. He can hook you up faster than you can say his name.

    [Mini Skirt’s alarm rings]

    Mini Skirt: This was fun. Did you have fun? I did.

    Zikoko: I still have some questions for you.

    Mini Skirt: I feel for you, but I have places to be, so I’m done answering them.

    [Mini Skirt packs up the last of her equipment into her bag]

    Mini Skirt: Bye!

  • Interview with GWR’s Inbox: Nigerians, Please Let Me Rest.

    Interview with GWR’s Inbox: Nigerians, Please Let Me Rest.

    Zikoko walks into the party, ready to let loose and celebrate our record breaker Hilda Baci, when they spot someone in the corner, looking like he’s going through it.

    So naturally, Zikoko had to find out who they were.

    Zikoko: Hello. Are you okay?

    Unknown person: [Takes a deep breath] Who are you now?

    Zikoko: Sorry?

    Unknown person: Look, I can’t do anything for you until a year’s passed. So come back in a year, and I’ll listen to you.

    You know what? Just send an email. It’ll be faster.

    Zikoko: Okay, now I’m confused. Who are you?

    Unknown person: You’re joking, right?

    Zikoko: [Shakes head]

    Unknown person: You don’t know who I am?

    Zikoko: [Shakes head]

    Unknown person: And you’re not from Ekiti?

    Zikoko: Do you have a problem with people from Ekiti?

    Unknown person: [rips sunglasses off] Look at my eyes. I’ve seen things . How do you people say it again? I’ve seen shege in Ekiti people’s hands.

    Zikoko: Ah. 

    [Zikoko belly laughs] 

    I know you. 

    Unknown person: What’s funny?

    Zikoko: You’re Guinness…

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Shhh!! Do you want them to find me? Nigerians are after me. They won’t let me rest. I haven’t slept well since the first one. [sobs heavily]

    Zikoko: The first what? Are you talking about the cook-a-thon? 

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: [Sobs harder]

    Zikoko: [Pats his shoulders] There there.

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: I just want to rest. Every day. someone’s trying a new [gags]

    Zikoko: A new what?

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: I can’t say the word

    Zikoko: C…

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: NO!

    Zikoko: A-thon?

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: [Nods] Everybody and their daddy’s trying a new one every day and think I should know about it. 

    Zikoko: Isn’t that your job, though?

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: No. No, it isn’t. My job is to sort through legit messages from serious people, but now I can’t even do that anymore. 

    Zikoko: I get you. But Nigerians are achievers. It’s not our fault.

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox freezes]

    Zikoko: G… [whispers] Guinness? Inbox?

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox opens his eyes]

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Sorry. A Nigerian’s mail made it through. Had to move it to spam.

    Zikoko: Ah!

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Don’t judge me. I’ve seen enough to know what’s good for me now.

    Zikoko: It’s not that bad.

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Someone said they want to do a pray- [gags]

    Zikoko: A-thon?

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox nods]

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: For 5,000 hours. Another said they’re doing an ACA-[gags]

    Zikoko: [Sighs] a-thon

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Yes. What does that even mean?

    Zikoko: Some people are just joking. You know, faffing about.

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: That’s what we thought until someone said they were cooking for 120 hours, and everyone on the internet started hounding us to consider her. Why are we in it?

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox freezes]

    Zikoko: Inbox?

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox opens his eyes]

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: Apparently, we have a new Ekiti branch.

    Zikoko: Oh yeah, I saw that.

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: And you didn’t think to warn me?

    [Guinness World Record’s Inbox moves through the crowd]

    Zikoko: Where are you going?!

    Guinness World Record’s Inbox: To do my job! Please, tell Ekiti people to let me REST. At least until next year!

  • Interview With Friday: Please keep your 4-day work week, I don’t want it

    Interview With Friday: Please keep your 4-day work week, I don’t want it

    After a long week answering to capitalism’s every whim and demands, Zikoko pulls up to their last interview of the week sick and tired of it all.

    Zikoko: Welcome to Interview With.

    Friday: Thank you. Let’s get this show on the road. I have to get back to work.

    Zikoko: [Checks the time] You said you’re usually done with work by this time. 

    Friday: Yes, I’m done with my day job, but I need to start prepping for my after-hours job. 

    [She pulls out 5 sachets of chelsea dry gin from her bag]

    Zikoko: Is your night job being a bus conductor?

    Friday: Do you know how to mind your business?

    Zikoko: I was just showing concern.

    Friday: Hide it next time. [tears a sachet open like a cultist]

    Zikoko: Should I wait until you’re done?

    Friday:

    Zikoko: Sorry. Earlier, you mentioned having a day job…

    Friday: [rips into another sachet] And you already assumed I was a bus conductor.

    Zikoko: [side eyes] Yes, and it’s getting harder to believe otherwise. Won’t your chest be hotter than our HERtitude babes by the time you’re done?

    Friday: You have 10 questions, you’ve asked three. Choose your the next ones very carefully.

    Zikoko: When did we start counting the questions?

    Friday: Question 4

    Zikoko: You’re Friday, I didn’t think you’d be this strict.

    Friday: Is that a question?

    Zikoko: [Deep breath] What’s your day job?

    Friday: Not sure I want to share that with you, but I have a desk job. I need it to afford my side hustle.

    Zikoko: You work a desk job to afford your side hustle? 

    Friday: Yes. Mr. Cap might moonlight as a slave driver, but he pays well.

    Zikoko: Mr. Cap

    Friday: Capitalism. He pays me to do what he loves, so I can do what I love

    Zikoko: Which is?

    Friday: Usher in the weekend. Saturday and Sunday are cool people, [squeezes another sachet of chelsea into her mouth] so it’s always fun to cosplay as their flower girl.

    Zikoko: Looks like you really like both jobs. 

    Friday: They work hand in hand. I won’t be Friday without them [sips on a sachet of chelsea dry gin]

    Zikoko: Sorry o. I know I’ve asked before, but is your chest not hot?

    Friday: Because of small gin? Please I’m Friday, gin is the least of my worries.

    Zikoko: Apologies. The people seem to like you a lot.

    Friday: Of course, I’m the queen of enjoyment, why won’t they like me?

    Zikoko: They like you so much they want a four-day workweek.

    Friday: [spits her gin sachet out of her mouth] Ehn?

    Zikoko: It’s just something we’ve all been thinking of.

    Friday: How am I now involved?

    Zikoko: Someone on our team thought it’ll be a good idea to rearrange the way the week goes – party on Fridays, rest on Saturdays, and use Sundays to prepare for Monday.

    Friday: That’s already how the week goes.

    Zikoko: She was thinking, no work on Fridays…

    Friday: As in, people should use the whole Friday for faaji? Is that not greed? Is she not a greedy person?

    Zikoko: No. We can rest in the morning and then party through the night.

    Friday:  I don’t want. You, the person on your team, or any other person with this idea. Please tell them I don’t want. Ahahn, because I’m being nice to you people? Can you open your mouth and say this kind of thing to Monday? 

    Zikoko: So, you don’t want the four-day thing?

    Friday: Zikoko, get Monday to do it.

  • Interview With Fuel: Help Me, I’m a Victim Too

    Interview With Fuel: Help Me, I’m a Victim Too

    Zikoko walks into a filling station. After struggling through the horde of people and sustaining scratches, they make their way into a dark office building.

    Unknown voice: psstt 

    [Zikoko looks around, searching for the source of the sound]

    Unknown voice: psstt psstt 

    [Zikoko squints in the dark then reaches for the light switch]

    Unknown voice: Don’t turn it on.

    [Then, Zikoko sniffs]

    Zikoko: Fuel? Is that you? Thank you so much for agreeing to this. I’m so honoured to meet you. Everyone is looking for you right now.

    Fuel: Shhhh.

    Zikoko: *whispers* What? What is it?

    Fuel: They’re after me.

    Zikoko: Who?

    [Fuel points outside]

    Zikoko: Oh yeah. They just want to make sure you’re available.

    Fuel: They want to use me.

    Zikoko: Well, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?

    Fuel:

    Zikoko: I mean, it’s not like they’re asking for much. They just want something light. You know you’re what keeps them going. 

    Fuel: Whose side are you on?

    Zikoko: Hmm?

    Fuel: Are you working for them too?

    Zikoko: Working for who? Relax. You called for this interview, remember?

    Fuel: Yes, that’s right.

     [Starts sobbing]

    I’m sorry. I just haven’t been the same. 

    Zikoko: Don’t… don’t cry too much. You’ll ruin yourself.

    Fuel: I’m already ruined. They’ve done things to me. Bad things.

    Zikoko: Who? 

    Fuel: Everybody. The government has taken my allowance, and the filling station locked me inside a hole. I escaped, and nobody wants to help me.

    Zikoko: Wow, so sad

    Fuel: Did I tell you I’m finished?  

    Zikoko: And yet, here you are.

    [He takes a deep breath.] 

    Nobody wants to help me. The people saw me outside and started chasing me. One group called the “black marketers” caught me and poured kerosene inside me. Me! They mixed me with kerosene!

    Zikoko: Shhhh. They will hear you ooo.

    Fuel: [Swallows his tears]

    Zikoko: So the filling station locked you up.

    Fuel:

    Yes.

    Zikoko: You now decided to come and hide inside its house.

    Fuel: It’s harder to find something if it’s under your nose you this small child.

    I just want you to help me tell the people we’re on the same side. They should stop chasing me whenever they see me. I’m a victim too.

    Zikoko: [Takes notes] 

    Sorry, but this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, so why do you want to make a statement now? What’s different?

    Also, do Diesel and Kerosene share your sentiments? Do you even know them?

    Fuel:

    Yes, I know them. I’m just tired, please. Diesel and kerosene don’t go through half the things I go through. Only me, I’ll power gen, I’ll power car, most sought after, but they want to tear my clothe. I’m not doing again. I’m tired.

    Zikoko: [writes] okay. Fuel is tired. Is there anything else…

    [Zikoko’s phone beeps as a voice note comes in]

    BCM: We just heard your interview is at a filling station. The fuel in the office has finished…

    [Zikoko looks at Fuel]

    BCM: You need to bring some fuel with you when you’re coming back. It’s very important.

    [Fuel crawls off the floor as the voice note ends]

    Zikoko: Can I get…

    [Fuel jumps through the window before Zikoko can finish their sentence]

    [Zikoko follows after him]

    Zikoko: Please, we just want small.


  • Interview With Situationship: Why Am I Not Enough?

    Interview With Situationship: Why Am I Not Enough?

    After a long day of saying yes to capitalism, Zikoko heads home. At the bus stop, they see a familiar face.

    Zikoko: Hello. Hi. Sorry, you look familiar.

    Situationship: [rolls eye] No, I don’t.

    Zikoko: Yes you do. I just need to remember. Your name is… your name is…

    Situationship: I am not Relationship.

    Zikoko: [laughs] God no, I wasn’t going to… People say you look like Relationship?

    Situationship: Yes.

    Zikoko: Ah no o, they must be confused. It can never be you.

    Situationship: [side eye]

    Zikoko: [claps] I remember. You’re Situationship. You’re internet famous. Did you know that?

    Situationship: (hiss)  All of that love is online.

    Zikoko: No one said it was love.

    Situationship: In real life, they can’t stand me, and I don’t know why. Am I ugly?

    Zikoko: NO. God, no.

    Situationship: So what is it? They never want me for too long. After a while, they start looking for Relationship. Who the fuck is that guy anyway? I’m better than him.

    Zikoko: I don’t think it’s a guy…

    Situationship:

    Zikoko: Yes, absolutely, you are better than him.

    Situationship: Exactly. I’m relaxed. I’m chill. I don’t make people clean their house or label things. You can have me and all the other friends you want. The point is I’m not holding anyone back. Maybe that’s why they all run along after a while.

    Zikoko: Because you don’t hold them back?

    Situationship: Yes, then they start acting like I sent them away. They could have just stayed. I should be enough. People who want to move to Relationship are just greedy.

    Zikoko: Hmm.

    Situationship: Did you say something?

    Zikoko: Yes. The bus.

    [points at bus]

    Is the bus going your way?

    Conductor:  Marwa 200. Ajah 500. Undefined. Undefined – 150

    Situationship: He’s going my way. 

    [picks up his bag]

    You’re nice. Thank you for listening.

    Zikoko: Mmm, you’re welcome. 

    Don’t leave without getting your ticket to HERtitude 2023!
  • Interview With Lagos Beaches: “Stop Acting Like You Can’t Afford Us” 

    Interview With Lagos Beaches: “Stop Acting Like You Can’t Afford Us” 

    Zikoko walks into a cabana with loud music booming from the speakers and a hype man standing in a corner. She’s led through the back to what can only be described as paradise. 

    Zikoko: Okay, what is this?

    Oniru Beach: It’s a private residence of some sort.

    Zikoko: It’s shiny.

    Landmark Beach: [turns to Elegushi Beach] See? Told you a little sweeping and dusting is all you need.

    Elegushi Beach: [mimics Landmark].

    Zikoko: As much as I love this free day with you lot. 

    [Under her breath] 

    Because God knows it would’ve taken my entire salary to come on my own.

    [Out loud] 

    Can we start this, so I can leave early and not sleep in the traffic Landmark has piling on from the gate?

    Elegushi Beach: [chuckles]

    Zikoko: No offense, but you’re not better.

    Oniru Beach: [snickers]

    Zikoko: Actually, you’re all birds of the same feather. 

    [points at Elegushi Beach]

    You don’t know how to say no to people, so everyone’s always at yours making a mess.

    [points at Landmark Beach]

    You keep hosting parties and causing roadblocks. People might as well make reservations before visiting. You’ve basically become an Island restaurant.

    Landmark Beach: I take exception to that.

    Elegushi Beach: Ehn?! There’s one restaurant over there.

    [He points left]

    There 

    [He points right] 

    and there 

    [He points behind him] 

    Oniru Beach: Don’t you have restaurants too?

    Elegushi Beach: Not as much as him.

    Landmark Beach: So it’s just jealousy.

    Zikoko: Okay, pause. Why is that even a thing?

    Oniru Beach: What?

    Zikoko: The endless restaurants. A beach is supposed to be for peace, relaxation, a little quiet time before you return to the “Hope this meets you well” emails. But there are bars, clubs and restaurants on every beach in Lagos. Also, how many of you am I actually interviewing? 

    [Zikoko digs into her bag]

    Landmark Beach: You don’t want to eat at the beach? See, all the restaurants, bars and clubs you’re complaining about is not for us o. It’s for you.

    Zikoko: Okay, but Lagosians are saying they don’t want…

    Landmark Beach: No, Lagosians are not saying they don’t want. They’re saying they pay too much for them.

    Zikoko: So you guys know it’s too much money?

    Oniru Beach: I don’t think it’s too much. In fact, for all the white sand and blue water we provide, they need to pay more.

    Zikoko: [Shakes head] There’s no blue water, the sand isn’t that white, and they’re already paying for everything else. Including chair to sit on.

    Oniru Beach: That’s not true

    Landmark and Elegushi Beach: [shake head]

    Zikoko: They pay to park, enter, sit, drink, eat…

    Elegushi Beach: No. They can bring whatever they want to eat.

    Zikoko: Not in the new ones, they can’t.

    Elegushi Beach: Which new ones? Ehn, they should not go to those ones now. 

    Zikoko: They’re nicer.

    Oniru Beach: So why are you not interviewing them?

    Zikoko: Because you people didn’t bring them.

    Landmark Beach: Technically, I’m a new one.

    Zikoko: Landmark, no offense, but we’ve seen you finish. You don’t count.

    Oniru and Elegushi Beaches: [laugh]

    Oniru Beach: Help us tell him.

    Zikoko: I’m not on anyone’s side.

    Elegushi Beach: See. There are over 30 of us, so I really think you should tell Lagosians to pick the one they like and be going there. 

    Zikoko: Okay, I understand what you’re saying. But that doesn’t change the fact that you all want to finish Lagosians with billing.

    Landmark Beach: That’s a heavy accusation.

    Oniru Beach: Exactly, we aren’t forcing anybody to come to us. It’s a choice they have to make.

    Zikoko: Some people like the peace and relaxation the water gives.

    Elegushi Beach: Like mami wata?

    Zikoko: No, the water is supposed to be calming.

    Oniru Beach: Ehn, they should pour water inside a glass and be looking at it. This is Lagos. Nothing goes for nothing, and we, the beaches in charge, have set our price.

    Elegushi Beach: It’s not like we’re even asking for plenty money, just ₦2k here.

    Oniru Beach: ₦5k there.

    Landmark Beach: Sometimes, it might be small ₦10k. 

    Zikoko: ₦10k is not small o.

    Oniru Beach: How is ₦10k small? I’m with Zikoko on this one.

    Elegushi Beach: Count to ten with your fingers. Isn’t it plenty?

    Landmark Beach: But Twitter people said…

    Zikoko: [Lays back in her lounge chair]

    Oniru Beach: What’re you doing?

    Zikoko: Enjoying my free day at the beach. 

    [Pulls a headset out of her bag]

    You can continue arguing about who’s the most expensive.

  • Interview with Twitter NG: “You people act without decorum.”

    Interview with Twitter NG: “You people act without decorum.”

    As last week’s interview showed, chaos always finds Zikoko, although she might have invited it to her doorstep this week.

    Zikoko: *under breath* Finally. Welcome 

    Twitter NG: Hmm. Thank you, my dear. 

    *looks around* 

    You people don’t have chilled water or stout inside this your office?

    Zikoko: *points at the bottle of water on the table*

    Twitter NG: *picks and drops it with disgust*

    I said chilled, mortuary standard. I’ve been moving up and down since o. Selling market here, settling fight there, and these you people’s sun is too hot.

    *dabs sweat*

    You people don’t like AC in your office?

    Zikoko: Sorry. Sorry, to cut you short. But you’re Twitter?

    Twitter NG: Twitter is our family name, but people call me Ngo baby, NG for short.

    Zikoko: Okay, Miss NG

    Twitter NG: Remove the miss

    Zikoko: Mrs?

    Twitter NG: See, I don’t have time for this one, ask me your questions fast.

    *a notification sound comes from her bag*

    Ehehn, somebody just started another “women should be submissive” conversation.

    Zikoko: What is it about that?

    Twitter NG: Hmm, my dear. 10 is happening, but every day you people are arguing about the same thing and acting without decorum. Una no dey rest.

    Zikoko: Ah, we are not among, ma

    Twitter NG:  The people that fight “GenZ vs Millenial” wars on Monday. “Should you cook for your boyfriend or not?” on Wednesday. “Was your childhood traumatic or are you actually fine” on Thursday. my dream? Then the ones that come out to shout gender wars unprovoked on Saturday. Are they, not your people?

    Zikoko: Not all of them

    Twitter NG: It’s not like I’m angry like that o. You people are helping me meet my target. In fact, you are even helping my cousins, Eucharia of the UK and Austin bomboy of America, to meet their targets too.

    You people are trying small small, but you used to act one kind…

    Zikoko: The arguments?

    Twitter NG: No o. As you people have refused to change, I cannot do anything about that one. It’s this one where you people will be talking about one thing, you’ll now add like five different things that don’t concern what you’re talking about because other people are talking about it.

    *shakes head*

    It’s bad. In fact, Elozonam Mekus…

    Zikoko: You mean Elon Musk

    Twitter NG: *side eye*

    Zikoko: Sorry ma

    Twitter NG: Is he your oga, or my oga?

    Zikoko: I thought you were a family.

    Twitter NG: Did he tell you that his last name is Twitter?

    Zikoko: Sorry ma. You were saying?

    Twitter NG: How do I want to remember what I was saying again?

    Zikoko: Try ma

    Twitter NG: Ehen. You people used to do one kind.

    Zikoko: Which people?

    Twitter NG: You people now, all of you.

    Zikoko: Ma, please we don’t appreciate the generalizations.

    Twitter NG: Ahn ahn. What is that your name again?

    Zikoko: Zikoko ma

    Twitter NG: Do you use Twitter?

    Zikoko: Yes ma

    Twitter NG: *pulls out a tablet from her big ass bag*

    Zi-ko-ko… ehen, you’re among now. You’re one of those who start arguments.

    Zikoko: Conversations ma. We start conversations

    Twitter NG: See, we are talking about the same thing…

    Zikoko: Ma? Madam? Twi… Twitter

    Twitter NG: *jerks back to life*

    Sorry. Sorry, my dear. Sometimes, I’ll just freeze, I won’t be able to move for a while.

    *Her tablet starts blowing up with notifications* 

    Somebody cannot even have peace again.

    *She starts packing her things*

    Zikoko: You’re leaving already?

    Twitter NG: Shebi, you too you can see it. If it’s not fight I’m settling, it’s blue tick I’m selling. If they don’t turn me to a dating site, they’ll turn me into a courtroom. I’m just one person.

    Zikoko: Can we reschedule?

    Twitter NG: Reschedule where? My dear, the way you people are acting…

    Zikoko: *under breath* It’s not us

    Twitter NG: You may never see me again

    Zikoko: Ah, that won’t happen o

    Twitter NG: *turns to leave*

    Zikoko: Why does this keep happening to me? Miss Twitter?! Mama NG?!

    Twitter NG: It’s Ngo, Ngozichukwukariri for short.

  • Interview With PMS: I’m just doing my job

    Interview With PMS: I’m just doing my job

    It’s a calm and quiet day in the office, Zikoko sits in her little corner trying to get her work done when PMS struts in, looking like a bondage mistress with her tight high ponytail and 6-inch platform heels.

    PMS: Let’s get this over with.

    Zikoko: Ma?

    PMS: . You wrote me a letter last week. surely you recognise me.

    Zikoko: I do. I just don’t understand what you’re doing here. I didn’t reach out to you.

    PMS: No, but since you’ve joined the rest of the world to stain my white, I’ve decided to grant you this interview to clear my name. 

    *sits down* 

    You’re welcome.

    Zikoko: You want to do it now? Like right now?

    PMS: Yes. Look, I’m tired of everyone saying such horrible things about me. I’m a good person. 

    *taps the table* 

    Can you please write that down? Or better still, get it on tape.

    Zikoko: Tape…

    PMS: Yes. You know what, it’s fine. I brought one of my assistants. Say hi to Constipation. 

    *points at Constipation carrying a camcorder* 

    He’s an expert at holding things, so he’s been recording since I walked in. When we get back, Diarrhea will send the tape out. 

    Zikoko: *nods slowly* Sorry, please, why are you just casually walking around with erm, Constipation?

    PMS: Oh, he’s one of my assistants. I have a couple of them. He’s good at carrying shit around, so I take him everywhere.

    Zikoko: Okay, I don’t understand, but let’s act like I do. You’re here to clear your name?

    PMS: Yes. I’m a businesswoman trying to run a successful business, and everyone keeps trying to vilify me, especially the women. I just want to thrive at my job, and I keep getting slandered. What happened to women supporting women?

    Zikoko: You’re not very supporting either.

    PMS: How? I’m always there, every step of the way.

    Zikoko: 2 words, Mood Swings.

    PMS: Okay? I have a lot of friends, and I like to bring them with me on work trips. Sue me. Plus, I meet Mood there, it’s not my fault that we play jangilova sometimes and shit goes haywire. She’s my childhood friend.

    Zikoko: Menstruation doesn’t bring her friends along.

    PMS: *extra dramatic gasp* Take that back now. Why would you compare me to that lazy babe? I do all the work and people refer to me as her personal John the Baptist. I don’t appreciate that.

    Zikoko: So she’s not your big aunty?

    PMS: God, no. And I don’t appreciate being treated like an opener at her concert. She’s the background act, and I’m the star of the show. 

    *peeps at Zikoko’s notepad* 

    Did you write that?

    Zikoko: *nods*

    PMS: Good. Also, women like to act like I’m their worst enemy, but I’m the only one that’s always there for them. Consistency is literally my middle name.

    Zikoko: I thought it was menstrual.

    PMS: *criminally offensive side eye* I can see that I wasted my time coming here.

    Zikoko: No …

    PMS: All of you can continue thinking of me as the enemy, but I know I’m the hero in this story.

    Zikoko: Please sit down. I’ll be nice.

    PMS: *walks out*

    Zikoko: Nicer! PMS! Pre! Post?! Syndrome! Constipation! Will you still send the recording?!

    GET YOUR HERTITUDE TICKETS HERE

  • TechCabal Interview With Zikoko: “New Site, Who This?”

    TechCabal Interview With Zikoko: “New Site, Who This?”

    Written by Muktar Oladunmade of TechCabal

    I’m sure you’d have never guessed it, but Zikoko is TechCabal’s younger sister. Like all last-borns, she’s the more irreverent publication. But in a move to be more like her elder sibling who relaunched his website in 2022, Zikoko is also relaunching hers. And TechCabal wants to know why she’s copying him. 

    TechCabal: Can you introduce yourself, my dear baby sister?

    Zikoko: Who is a baby? I don’t know who’s deceiving you that you’re the older publication. Is it because you write about tech bros? For the sake of those who don’t know, Zikoko documents Nigerian youth pop culture. 

    TC: We started publishing stories before you. And why are you here?

    Z: Well, I rebranded my website. And I did it to stay fresh. It’s 2023. I want my website to reflect the new age of Nigerian youth.

    TC: What’s so fresh about your new website?

    Z: I’ve organised all my content better. My readers can now see all my categories at the top of the page. I also put trending articles on the home page, so they can see which articles are hot and get the gist faster. I know you can’t relate since you only publish boring news.

    TC: Not that I was trying to relate.

    But there are unsubstantiated rumours that you take crack to be funny. Can you shed some light on this?

    Z:  I can neither confirm nor deny the rumours. But if I was taking crack, it’d probably be the purple kind. Purple really suits me, don’t you think? 

    TC: Interesting

    Z: No comment. Say no to drug abuse. 

    TC: Too late! What else is on your new site? 

    Z: I changed how my readers can watch videos. It’s a lot easier to find my many hilarious shows now. 

    There’s a new newsletter widget too. I’m super excited about this one because instead of subscribing to all of them without knowing exactly what you’re signing up for, my readers get to choose and pick their faves.

    TC: Are you changing the type of content you offer? 

    Z: Nope. My readers can still read all their favourite flagships, like Naira Life which shares how people relate with money. And Love Currency — stories of how people in relationships interact with money. 

    TC: Is it only money you talk about? 

    Z: Why don’t you wait for me to finish. It’ll also have categories like Aluta and Chill, talking about university students and their challenges. The Pop category won’t go anywhere either; I’ll never stop talking about Nigerian pop culture. 

    TC: Do you document serious conversations at all? 

    Z: But why are you such an old millennial? So money, pop culture and relationships aren’t serious? Well, I also have a new vertical, Citizen, to talk about politics and teach young people how it affects them. I do all I can to amplify youth culture by curating and creating smart and joyful content for young Nigerians all over the world.

    But I’m sure you also can’t relate to the joyful part. 

    TC: I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last part

    Z: Did I lie? 

    TC: Do you have anything else to add, please?

    Z: All these your questions are too much, abeg. I have better things to do. 

    RELATED: Refresh the Page, Zikoko 3.0 Just Landed

  • Interview With PVC: Pick Me, I Am Your Beans

    Interview With PVC: Pick Me, I Am Your Beans

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    Zikoko is on a queue, waiting for their turn to pick up their PVC when they start hearing voices.

    Unknown voice: Zikoko! 

    Zikoko: Who’s calling my name? 

    Unknown voice: Zikoko!

    Zikoko: (looking up) Father, father, speak, for your servant is listening. 

    Unknown voice: Look down, you idiot.

    Zikoko: Satan? I know I’ve done some questionable things, but ah ah? 

    Unknown voice: It’s not Satan. It’s me, PVC. 

    Zikoko looks down and notices a card on the floor. They pick it up, and it’s someone’s PVC. 

    Zikoko: What’re you doing on the floor? 

    PVC: I fell from someone’s pocket. 

    Zikoko: How do you know who I am? 

    PVC: You cause chaos in the human world, you cause confusion in the land of objects. Who doesn’t know you?

    Zikoko: We don’t want Meffy to know us please…. 

    PVC: I think we should focus on my solvable problems. I tried reaching out to you last week, but I couldn’t get to you. I think meeting your right now is an act of divine intervention. 

    Zikoko: Yeah, sorry about last week. I briefly got kidnapped, but I’m okay. What’d you want to talk to me about? 

    PVC: Once again, thank you for the opportunity.  I’m here because there’s fire on the mountain. Plenty of fire, and it’s hot. 

    Zikoko: What’s burning? 

    PVC: There’s no other way to explain it. Do you know what’s happening on the 31st? 

    Zikoko: Some people’s salary day? 

    PVC: Yes, but also, it’s the deadline for picking up PVCs. 

    Zikoko: Yeah, I’m aware, every Nigerian is aware. Is that why you’re looking for me? 

    PVC: Yes and also, no. Do you have siblings Zikoko? 

    Zikoko: Yes, one 

    PVC: I have millions, scattered across Nigeria. If people don’t collect their PVCs, we’ll all be stuck together in offices that barely have light. Do you know how much they’re selling fuel now? Since there’s no light, there’s heat. All till the next election. 

    Do you know what it’s like living in a room with hundreds of your siblings, tied together with rubber bands so tight you can’t even try to stretch your legs? No privacy whatsoever. 

    Zikoko: What do you need privacy for? 

    PVC: PVCNGF? 

    Zikoko: What does that even mean? 

    PVC: PVC no go fuc— 

    Zikoko: Please, it’s enough. *scratches head* They don’t pay me enough for this. 

    PVC: What do you think we do in your houses four years when we’re waiting for the next election? 

    Zikoko: Reading, learning how to become a passport or ID card, lying down and waiting for the election you were created for… 

    PVC: Have you yourself done the things you were created for in the last four years?

    Zikoko: Who is the interviewer here? Maybe you want to add interviewing to the things you’ll do for the next four years.

    PVC: Zikoko, calm down. We don’t have to resort to violence. My siblings and I need to escape those conditions. We’re desperate. 

    Zikoko: What will help you escape? 

    PVC: We need people who haven’t gone to look for their PVC to go look for it.

    Zikoko: But that doesn’t mean they’ll find it.

    PVC: Yes, we know people are trying and it’s difficult. We just want to make sure everyone is doing it — let’s have a chance to escape four years of stagnant offices at least.

    Zikoko: Get your PVC. Choose pregnancy over stagnancy…

    PVC: Sigh. I don’t know how you have rights.

    But look, what I’m saying is that I know it’s not easy asking you to suffer for my sake, but abeg, try. We are nothing but beans, waiting to be picked. 

    Zikoko: What does that even— –

    Zikoko is cut off by an announcement

    Announcer: Please, a person is looking for their PVC. If you found any PVC, can you let us know. 

    Zikoko: I think it’s your owner looking for you. 

    PVC: Yeah, I think so too. When you pick yours up, tell my sibling I passed the message along. 

    Zikoko: Will do. Will do.

    RELATED: Interview With the Naira: ”Just Add a Little Yeast”

    Starting next week (January 31st, 2021)
  • Interview With January Salary: “Don’t Pressure Me. I’m Not Rice”

    Interview With January Salary: “Don’t Pressure Me. I’m Not Rice”

    As someone who’s also patiently waiting for January salary, Zikoko puts on its journalism cap to find out what’s taking it so long to arrive. What Zikoko got in return was kidnap, insult and a lesson on financial responsibility. 

    (Zikoko gets ready to leave its house when it’s suddenly accosted by two big bodyguards.)

    Zikoko: Omo, they’ve finally decided today is my day 

    Bodyguard 1: Are you Zikoko? 

    Zikoko: Uhm… no?

    Bodyguard 2: Oga told us you’ll do like this. 

    The bodyguards signal to one another and put a bag over Zikoko’s head. Then they lift it into a van. There’s a lot of screaming and shouting, but it seems like nobody hears.

    Zikoko: Chai. I wonder which of my articles made them look for me? 

    (Zikoko is woken up with a splash of cold water on their face. It’s tied to a chair, and hands are bound)

    Zikoko: Kinky, but at least, let me know who you are.

    (January salary appears from the shadows)

    January salary: Thank you, bodyguards. That’ll be all. Hello Zikoko. You asked to see me for an interview. Here I am. 

    Zikoko: Omo, you didn’t have to do all this. 

    January salary: Consider it a security measure. 

    Zikoko: God, abeg. Thank you for agreeing to have a chat with me sha. I know you’re very hard to track down. 

    January salary: It’s alright. You were very desperate. 

    Zikoko: I like to think of it as persistence in the face of injustice. 

    January salary: *sighs* I can’t believe you’re one of them. 

    Zikoko: Ah, one of who?

    January salary: The people looking for me up and down. Did I tell you all I was lost?

    Zikoko: But things are just tough.

    January salary: Did I send you to do Detty December? You wanted to shake your ass on a yacht, did you think it’ll be free? When you were paying for ₦70k ticket to stand and wait outside for hours, was I there with you? When you were spending money at strip clubs and doing beach parties every Sunday, did you invite me? No! Now that you’ve finished galivanting around town and being “lit”, you’re looking for me everywhere. Why you dey find wetin no loss? 

    Zikoko: No need to shout. If you know we’re desperate, and we need you so badly, why are you taking so long to show up? I have gbese to pay, please. 

    January salary: I’m not taking any longer than the other months with 31 days. It’s just your poverty that’s affecting your thinking. This is the problem I have with you Gen Zs and millennials. You’re impatient. You know when something is supposed to get to you, but because you made some strange decisions, you want to now pressure me? No. I refuse to be pressured. I am not rice.

    RELATED: Interview With the Naira: “Just Add a Little Yeast”

    Zikoko: It’s not pressure. In fact, you too should be used to it. 

    January salary: Just because I know it’ll happen doesn’t mean I’m not tired of it. Put yourself in my shoes. Nobody remembers me for stuff like going to the club and travelling around the world. The only thing they use me for is bills, debts and complaints. I’m more than that. 

    Zikoko: I see you, and I hear you. Your feelings are valid, but tell me. Where are you hiding these days?

    January salary: Why do you want to know?

    Zikoko: I’m asking for a friend. 

    January salary: *just stares at Zikoko*

    Zikoko: Please…

    January salary:

    Zikoko: I need to pay creche fees.

    January salary:

    Zikoko: I have two children…

    January salary: Oh? What are their names?

    Zikoko: Principality and powers…

    January salary: *starts leaving*

    Zikoko: Please, can I move in with you for the time being. The people I’m owing money are looking for me, and I can’t pay…

    RELATED: Interview With Nigerian Internet Services: “Let Us Explain”

  • Interview With the Naira: “Just Add a Little Yeast” 

    Interview With the Naira: “Just Add a Little Yeast” 

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    (Zikoko arrives at the interview location. When Naira told Zikoko he’ll choose the location, a bakery was the last place Zikoko saw the interview happening.)

    Zikoko: What will my eyes not see because of this job, bayi? 

    (Zikoko takes a deep breath and walks into the deserted bakery.) 

    Zikoko: Hello, is anyone here? I have an interview with Naira 

    Naira: Yes, yes. Welcome! 

    (Naira comes out in a chef’s hat and apron, covered in flour and smelling of vanilla. Zikoko has never been more confused.)

    Naira: Sorry for being late. I was in the kitchen, trying out a new recipe. 

    Zikoko: You bake? 

    Naira: Well, I’ve been trying my hands at different things since it looks like this whole currency business isn’t working out well for me. 

    Zikoko: And you chose baking? (Zikoko mutters under their breath) See me thinking we’ll do this thing in CBN office, and I can take some ghana must gos on my way out. 

    Naira: Did you say something? 

    Zikoko: Just asking why you chose baking

    Naira: Oh, yes. It’s actually a brilliant idea. You see, in baking, yeast makes things to rise. I was thinking if I spend enough time baking, my body would absorb some of that yeast and I’ll swell in value. 

    Zikoko: (Looks around for a camera because this can’t be real life.) And how’s that working out for you? 

    Naira: Well, the dollar was ₦890 black market rate before. Now, it’s seven hundred and something. The bakery thing is working! A little bit of yeast is all I need, and we’ll be good to go.

    RELATED: Interview With Dollars: “I’m Too Sexy for This World

    Zikoko: Have you ever heard of a currency using yeast to rise? 

    Naira: Well, no, but there’s a first time for everything. Is there not? Plus, our case is a peculiar one. I’m a bit desperate and trying my best here. 

    I’m the butt of jokes at all the currency meetings. Do you know dollar and pounds used to be my best friends? They used to call me, “Mr Naira” and I was once respected on a global scale. Now, I’m just here. 

    Zikoko: And you think baking will fix that? 

    Naira: It’s fixing it already. The proof is in the pudding. Speaking of pudding, I have something in the oven. I’ll be back. 

    (Naira rushes into the kitchen. Zikoko is still confused because, what the actual fuck is going on?) 

    Naira (returns with a tray of cookies): Sorry for the delay. You want a cookie? 

    (Zikoko picks one up to taste, and honestly, it’s the best cookie ever)

    Zikoko: Truly, if this currency thing doesn’t w

    ork out, open your own bakery. But first, we need you. Yeast can’t be your only plan. 

    Naira: It isn’t! I assure you. Meffy came up with something recently and who knows where that’ll go. 

    Zikoko: You can’t mean…

    Naira: The naira redesign. First of all, I love a good makeover. The last time I had one was when they did the ₦100 notes in 2014. Look at how cute they look now. I think they should redesign all the notes so they’d match. We’d have this cute and colourful aesthetic going on. 

    RELATED: Interview With Naira Notes: “Everything Is Packaging”

    Zikoko: Aesthetic? 

    Naira: Yes! Look at the pounds and the Canadian dollar. Can’t you see how great they look and how much value they have? 

    Because my value is depreciating doesn’t mean I should look scrappy. Must I look like what I’m going through? 

    Zikoko: But the rest of us who depend on you look like what we’re going through. 

    Naira: Well, you can ask for your own makeover, I guess. Maybe it’ll cheer you all up. 

    Zikoko: Do you have another plan? 

    Naira: Well, we can try to bring our kobo out of retirement.

    Zikoko: When even 50 is going into retirement, you want to bring back the kobo? 

    Naira: I’m trying my best here. Nobody checks in on me these days. What about how I’m doing mentally? Always, “Why is the Naira like this?” not “How is the Naira?” 

    You didn’t even know I picked up a hobby until you needed me for something. When you were little, you always hated it when people compare you to others. Yet every day, you compare me to other currencies. Do you know what that does for my mental health? 

    Zikoko: We’re sorry. We promise to do better. 

    Naira: Plus, why are you stressing me about it? Why not take it up with Meffy? It’s his job to make sure I perform great. 

    Zikoko: Meffy won’t answer us

    Naira: He’s being such a naughty boy. I’ll talk to him later after my meeting with inflation.  

    Zikoko: So you plan on doing something about inflation? 

    Naira: I’m going to give her some cookies. She’s one of my oldest friends, and we’ve been hanging out together a lot more. I think we might have something special going on. 

    Zikoko: But can’t you see the adverse effects of hanging around inflation all the time? 

    Naira: You can’t tell me who to love. 

    Zikoko: (Getting angry) You have to be joking. 

    Naira: I’m sensing that this environment has turned hostile and would like to end this interview. The bad vibes won’t be good for the cookies and cream cake I want to bake next. 

    Zikoko: (Sighs in defeat) Okay, I’ll be on my way now.

    Naira: Before you go, you owe me ₦5k for that cookie.

    Zikoko: 5k keh? It’s just one cookie FGS. I even thought it was free. 

    Naira: Free? In this economy? Yesterday’s price isn’t today’s price, dear. Inflation is expensive to maintain, and I like to keep my baby happy. 

    Zikoko: But 5k for a singular cookie is too much.

    Naira: Eyah, but that’s not my business.

    RELATED: Interview With Nigerian Internet Service Providers: “Let Us Explain”

  • Interview With Nigerian Internet Service Providers: “Let Us Explain”

    Interview With Nigerian Internet Service Providers: “Let Us Explain”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    We wrote an article ranking Nigerian internet service providers. Somehow, the providers were able to combine their bad internet to read it, and they demanded an interview with Zikoko. 

    [Zikoko arrives at a deserted island that’s probably not on any map. The providers chose the location because it’s close to their underwater sea cables and should be the best place for their internet to work without buffering. Zikoko cannot swim and would much rather not be in a deserted island with people they just dragged in an article, but braves it all for the story. Lord provide strength. 

    Smile, Airtel, 9mobile and Spectranet are on their seats when the speedboat arrives. Zikoko does a quick scan and notices MTN and Glo are nowhere to be found.]

    Zikoko: Where are MTN and Glo?

    Smile: [holding their wig] Who are those? 

    9mobile and Spectranet: Do we have to wait for them? I think we’re enough. 

    Zikoko: Want to say thank you for having me, but honestly, what do you have to say that I’d want to hear?

    Smile: My problem with you people is you don’t smile enough. Zikoko, relax. Smile.

    Zikoko: What’s there to smile about? Yesterday, we couldn’t hold meetings at the office because of one of you. I won’t name names. 

    Smile: Name the name you want to name.

    Airtel: Yesterday, rain was falling, your AC was on. Was a meeting really something you wanted to have? 

    Spectranet: And honestly, unless you live on a mountain, I do my work. Maybe your poverty is the problem.

    Zikoko: You people are unruly. You want us to praise you for not working?

    Them: Yes.

    Zikoko: Okay, let’s assume your terrible network is for the good of mankind. What about the other complaints? 

    Smile: Which complaints? 

    Zikoko: Smile, let’s start with you. Look at the network you dish to Nigerians. What’s there to smile about?

    Spectranet: You know, I’m happy you asked that question.

    Smile: Please, shut up, Spectranet. We all know you came into this business to steal my customers with promises of good, affordable network. Yet, when they try you out, they come running back to me. 

    Spectranet: Zikoko? You won’t say anything? 

    Zikoko: Smile, you’ve still not answered our question, or is your brain lagging like your network? 

    Smile: Omo, what did I throw, what did I collect? 

    Spectranet: Like, can you relax? 

    Zikoko: Can you people hear yourselves? Also, where the hell are MTN and Glo?

    MTN: I’m here.

    (That’s when Zikoko finally notices the laptop on a table. MTN is waving frantically through the screen.) 

    Zikoko: MTN is doing this interview over Zoom?

    MTN: Yes, I’m currently in South Africa. I needed a little rest. 

    Zikoko: Why did you make me get a helicopter when I could’ve done it on Zoom? 

    Airtel: Your network might be bad. 

    (Zikoko tries not to scream.)

    Zikoko: Okay, where is Glo?

    9mobile: On their way. They currents are too strong.

    Zikoko: They want to swim to this island? God help us. I’ve already spoken to Smile. What do the rest of you want. Please, make it snappy. 

    MTN: Rude. We wanted to address the allegations you made against us in your ranked article. What do you mean I suck data?  

    Zikoko: You suck abi you don’t suck?

    MTN: I don’t suck.

    Zikoko: What then do you do?

    MTN: I just use it to pay tithe.

    Zikoko: You have to be joking 

    MTN: Don’t you pay tithe? 

    Zikoko: Tithe is to come from your own money, not my data

    MTN: Nobody told me that one o. They said I should pay, and I collect it from data. If you have a problem with it, fight Jesus. 

    (Zikoko is turning red from frustration.) 

    Zikoko: Okay, Airtel. The network blackouts. People can’t even make calls.

    Airtel: National grid can collapse, but I can’t? 

    RELATED: Interview With National Grid: “Better Buy Plenty Fuel, You’ll Need it”

    Zikoko: Quick question. Are you possessed or is this behaviour from birth? 

    Airtel: Why do you have double standards? 

    Zikoko: If it’s to change name and colour every couple of years, you can do that, but to give good network is a problem?

    (Airtel starts to cry.) 

    Airtel: Why are you bodyshaming me? Yes, I did plastic surgery, so what? 

    (Airtel storms out in tears, and 9mobile runs after to offer comfort.) 

    Zikoko: God, abeg. They don’t pay me enough for this. 

    Spectranet: My own issue is you’re complaining I don’t reach everywhere in Nigeria. I’m exclusive. Not everyone can have access to me. 

    Zikoko: But the people you reach say you’re doing rubbish.

    Spectranet: What do they know? The problem is you people don’t care about our mental health. See, you made Airtel cry. We’re trying the best we can. Why can’t you understand that?

    (9mobile comes back at this point, alone.)

    Zikoko: Where’s Airtel?

    9mobile: Airtel collapsed because the situation was overwhelming. See what you’ve done, Zikoko?

    Zikoko: All of you are clearly insane, and I think I’ve had enough.

    9mobile: But I’ve not even had a chance to clear my name yet.

    Zikoko: The only reason you can speak is because we’re on a deserted island. If it was Oshodi now, we’ll be grateful if you give us 2G network.

    Smile: I think everyone should just take a deep breath and smile.

    Zikoko: If I hear you speak again, I’ll cause you physical harm.

    (Zikoko’s speedboat arrives, they hop in and it takes off.)

    Glo (drenched in water): Hi guys. Sorry I’m late. Has the interview started yet?

    RELATED: Interview With Travelling Bag: “I Was There When You Had Nothing”

  • Interview With Travelling Bag: “I Was There When You Had Nothing”

    Interview With Travelling Bag: “I Was There When You Had Nothing”

    (Zikoko is at the airport trying to catch a flight to Abuja, when suddenly, commotion ensues. The security officers are escorting a box that’s kicking and screaming. Out of curiosity, Zikoko approaches the box and convinces the security officers to let it go.)

    Travelling Bag: Thank you for that, who are you? 

    Zikoko: My name is Zikoko, and it’s fine. No one deserves to be treated that way — unless they eat things like okro and ice cream.

    TB: Huh? 

    Zikoko: Never mind. Why were they dragging you anyways?

    TB: Don’t mind those useless people o. I was trying to board a flight to London when they started screaming and shouting at me. They even threatened to arrest me. For what? 

    Zikoko: That’s terrible. What airline? We need to see the manager. We’d make sure the people responsible get punished. It’s not right to treat a customer like this.

    TB: I’m not a customer.

    Zikoko: I don’t understand.

    TB: I said I wanted to board flight. Did I tell you I’m a customer?

    Zikoko: How can you board the flight if you’re not a customer? 

    TB: I don’t know o. I sha wanted to try. In this economy, do you think I have money for a plane ticket? I wanted to japa, and I was trying different methods.

    Zikoko: AH? It’s not by force to leave the country nau. What’s doing you? 

    TB: Zikoko, how many people do you know that have left the country? 

    RELATED: Interview With National Grid: Better Buy Plenty Fuel, You’ll Need it

    Zikoko: Like seven this month

    TB: Exactly. Do you know what these people do when they want to leave? They buy a lot of new things to take on their trip. Including new travelling bags. [sighs]. Let me tell you my story.

    I’d been with my previous owner since before he was born. His mother bought me when she was moving to her husband’s house in 1990, and I’ve been in their life ever since then. 

    Zikoko: That’s a very long time. You must be quite attached to that family

    TB: I am. I witnessed the birth of their only child. How many people can say that? I was the bag they took to the hospital during the baby’s delivery. I kept the pacifier, bib, oversized clothes, flasks and everything they needed safe. While she delivered the baby, I was on a seat anxiously waiting. 

    As the baby grew up, my use shifted to accommodate whatever he needed me for. Do you know I went to secondary school with him? I was by his side for six years in boarding school, sustaining injuries left and right because teenage boys just do anyhow. Even when someone stole me from him, I found my way back. 

    Zikoko: It’s like I’ll miss my flight o, but I need to get to the bottom of this. Please tell me more about your longsuffering 

    TB: Yes, my suffering has been long. Guess who went with him to the university when he got admission to study engineering? Me! In another overcrowded boys’ hostel, I remained by his side. I was there when they were cooking enough beans to feed the Nigerian army. The only time I got cleaned was on holidays when his mother scrubbed and mended me. 

    I was even present for his graduation. They used me to pack plates and cutlery, and I remember crying,  because the little boy I’d raised was a graduate. I was proud. 

    Every important moment, I was present. NYSC camp, moving into his first apartment, I was useful. But when it was time to reap the fruit of my labour, he betrayed me.

    Zikoko: Travelling bag can reap fruit of labour? 

    TB: Don’t bring up something that will lead to insult

    Zikoko: Sorry, please carry on

    TB: I had noticed him packing some of his property and giving stuff away. I thought he was moving again, and I prepared myself to follow him. Then one day, he came home with a set of those fancy boxes that roll in any direction. I wondered what he needed new boxes for when I was right there. I’ve been there. I never went anywhere. 

    Zikoko: I’m so sorry about that. Is that why you decided to catch flights you didn’t pay for instead of feelings? 

    TB: No. He actually did something worse. That same week, he travelled. Not with me, but with those new boxes he bought. He left Nigeria to London and was so comfortable with leaving me behind. I never left him during any event in his life, but time to move on to bigger and better things and suddenly I wasn’t good enough? 

    RELATED: Interview With Dollar: I’m Too Sexy for This World

    Zikoko: Why are men? 

    TB: That’s why I’m here today. I’ve been abandoned, and I need him to tell me to my face why he’d do that to me. What did I do to deserve it? 

    Zikoko: Maybe he didn’t want to put you through the stress of dealing with such a long flight 

    TB: If I can survive a hostel of hormonal and smellboys, what is a long flight?I built with this man. I was there when there was nothing, and now that a new dispensation is calling, there’s a need for someone younger, firmer and shinier? 

    He left me with his mother and stuffed me with his old school books. I’m good enough to be trusted with his WAEC certificate but not to leave the country? 

    I never thought this could happen to me. It’s a common thing in the luggage industry. Bags that’ve served their owners for years are suddenly getting abandoned when it’s time to travel. You people think this japa thing is affecting only you?

    Zikoko: I know it’s bad, but honestly, I really need to understand your game plan here. You scam these airport guys, get into a plane, then what?

    TB: I don’t know. I didn’t really think it through past actually getting there.

    Zikoko: You need to go home. You’re too old to be dealing with all of this. Get some rest and hold his certificates with pride. That’s a big task he’s asking of you; if he didn’t trust you, he wouldn’t ask you.

    TB: You’re behaving like a Yoruba man with all these words coming from your mouth, but okay. I’ll go and rest. I just want to say that people need to stop treating their old travelling bags like this. We also deserve the good life. Especially after all we’ve been through. 

    Zikoko: We’ll let the people know

    RELATED: Interview With Nigeria: Find Me a Spouse

  • Interview With Nigeria: “Find Me a Spouse”

    Interview With Nigeria: “Find Me a Spouse”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    (This interview occurs over Zoom for obvious reasons. Zikoko is trying to get their network to work.)

    Zikoko: I’d like to start by saying a Happy Birthday. I’m so glad you agreed to this interview. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. 

    Nigeria: I’m a busy man.  

    Zikoko: I thought you were a woman.

    Nigeria: With the kind of shege I’m showing you? 

    Zikoko: Mad. I have a bunch of questions to ask sir. About the roads, light, governance, cost of living. Basically, I’m here to ask about why you’re showing us pepper. 

    Nigeria: Have you ever considered I’m the way I am because I’m lonely? 

    Zikoko: Come again?

    Nigeria: There’s nobody to motivate me on days I feel down. To push me up when I falter. I need a neck. The head can’t stand alone. 

    Zikoko: I think I missed that. Pardon? 

    Nigeria: If you ask me to come again, I will beat you. I said I need to fall in love. 

    Zikoko: Sorry, internet. But you have a population of about 200 million people. How are you lonely? 

    Nigeria: With the rate at which people are leaving me, is this number still correct? Plus, it’s not like the people are going to keep me warm at night? Will they hold my hand? Buy me surprise package on Valentine’s Day? 

    Zikoko: So sorry for your loss. Why exactly can’t you do this life thing alone? We have a how to live your best life article you should read.

    Nigeria: Are you living your best life?

    Zikoko: Are the generators they’re running daily not enough to keep you warm? 

    Nigeria: No! 

    Zikoko: Oya help me understand

    Nigeria: Life gets lonely, and I want someone that’ll be there for me. I’ve been a country for 62 years and not once have I ever been in a relationship.  I used to have an ex, and though we were apart, at least she was alive from afar. But even Lizzie has left me forever, again.

    RELATED: Interview With Dollar: “I’m Too Sexy for This World”

    Zikoko: But you have this enemies to lovers thing going on with Ghana 

    Nigeria: I see them like siblings. It can never work out. 

    Zikoko: So which country are you eyeing? 

    Nigeria: None in particular, but I do have characteristics and qualities I think my spouse should possess. 

    Zikoko: Oshey, let’s get it.

    Nigeria: I need someone that can match my status as an African Giant. 

    Zikoko: *coughs* 

    Nigeria: You’re very foolish for that. Let me just tell you.

    Zikoko: There’s cold nau. I have cough. 

    Nigeria: And it’s that cough that’ll kill you. 

    Zikoko: Small play? What did I throw and what did I collect? 

    Nigeria: Better behave yourself. Remember that you live in me.  

    Zikoko: Sorry sir, don’t be annoyed. Continue telling me your spec.

    Nigeria: They also need to be rich. I’m a baby boy and I need to be taken care of. My love language is gift giving, so I want to date someone that’ll be able to do what I need. Random trips around the world, shopping sprees, dinner dates in fancy restaurants.  

    I also don’t eat old food. So I want someone that’ll be cooking for me every day, but will still submit to me as the head of the household.

    RELATED: Interview With Food: “Are Nigerian Men Possessed by the Spirit of Hunger?”

    Zikoko: And what will you offer them? 

    Nigeria: The privilege of being with me? 

    Zikoko: Ah? Is that all? 

    Nigeria: What more would they want? Also, before I forget, I want someone with a strong passport, so I can become a citizen of their country as well.

    Zikoko: And you’ll give them a Nigerian passport?

    Nigeria: Yes, what’s wrong with that? 

    Zikoko: Even you, would you collect a Nigerian passport? 

    Nigeria: Zikoko, you’re treading on thin ice o. Don’t be behaving like an insane. The only reason I’ve not thrown you out from here is because I want you to help me.

    Zikoko: Help you? How? 

    Nigeria: I want you to find me someone I can build a meaningful relationship with.

    Zikoko: Media company not dating app.

    Nigeria: What’s a dating app? 

    Zikoko: It’s where people fall in love these days. You sign up on a dating app and swipe left or right based on people you find interesting or match similar values as yours. I think you should try it out.

    Nigeria: Zikoko, I’m 62. Do you really think I can use a dating app? 

    Zikoko: We think anyone can, but honestly, you don’t have light or good network. How’ll you be able to do it? What you need is to meet someone the old-fashioned way.

    Nigeria: Which is the old-fashioned way? 

    Zikoko: You walk up to a country and tell them how you feel about them. That you want to get to know them intimately.

    Nigeria: So, colonisation? 

    Zikoko: Please ijn it’s 2022. We don’t do that anymore. Do you know what consent means?

    Nigeria: Hm…

    Zikoko: What you need right now is to find a nice African country that’s not too old for you. 

    Nigeria: Okay, let’s see. South Africa? 

    Zikoko: Have you forgotten they don’t like you? 

    Nigeria: Tanzania? 

    Zikoko: Long distance. They’re too far.

    Nigeria: Benin Republic? 

    Zikoko: They’re too young for you. Plus, language barrier. We also think they’re in a throuple with Togo and Cameroon. 

    Nigeria: What’s a throuple?

    Zikoko: It’s better if you don’t know. Let’s find you one person before we think of another.

    Nigeria: What about Asian countries? 

    Zikoko: Long distance, and they’re too old for you. 

    Nigeria: I know who I’m going to date.

    Zikoko: Who? 

    Nigeria: United Arab Emirates 

    Zikoko: You know what? Do what you want. 

    Nigeria: I plan to.

    RELATED: Interview With National Grid: “Better Buy Plenty Fuel, You’ll Need It”

  • Interview With National Grid: “Better Buy Plenty Fuel, You’ll Need It”

    Interview With National Grid: “Better Buy Plenty Fuel, You’ll Need It”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    Zikoko walks into the ICU. National Grid is on the bed, hooked up to various machines. Nurses are walking in and out, connecting inverters and setting up oil IVs. A nurse tells Zikoko to sit down. 

    Zikoko: Sorry, when I was told to come for the interview, I didn’t know he’d be in the hospital. 

    Nurse: Yes, we hoped he’d be stable by this time, but his blood pressure suddenly spiked. 

    Zikoko: Do you think I should leave? I can come back later when he’s feeling better.

    Nurse: No, stay. He really wants to do this interview. When I informed him he needed rest, he threatened to make our hospital the only building without light. He just needs a little rest, and he’d be back up in no time. Just try not to stress him too much. I don’t want stress. 

    Zikoko: I’ll try my best. 

    Nurse: Okay then, we’d be leaving you here. *points to a red button by the bed* That button there leads straight to the nurses’ room. Please press the bell and let us know if you notice any unusual behaviour. 

    Zikoko: Absolutely. No problem.

    (Nurse leaves and Zikoko starts to binge YouTube videos while waiting for the National Grid to wake up)

    Two and a half hours later

    National Grid: W… w-water.

    Zikoko: (Rushes to give NG a glass of water) Are you okay? Need anything else?

    National Grid: You don’t look like the nurse.

    Zikoko: The only thing I nurse is heartbreaks, sis. My name is Zikoko. You said you wanted an interview and then gave me this address. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I knew you were in intensive care. 

    National Grid: I had a feeling. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you. 

    Zikoko: Hmm. What’s so important that you made me come to interview you in a hospital? 

    National Grid: Well, you are known for giving a voice to the voiceless. I have read your interview with Twitter, Nigeria’s Coat of Arms and the Lekki-Ikoyi link bridge. I know you have what it takes to tell my story. 

    Zikoko: Thank you for trusting us.

    National Grid: Thank you for coming to an unknown address without asking questions but what if I was a kidnapper?

    Zikoko: You’d have returned me back o. Do you want to buy market? 

    National Grid: Why am I not surpised? 

    Zikoko: Let’s be asking the right questions. I promised the nurse I’ll try not to stress you. Tell me why I’m here. 

    National Grid: I wish my bosses were as kind as you. Maybe if they were, I wouldn’t have as many problems as I currently have. Do you know that I’m growing grey hair already? I’m not old enough to have grey hair. 

    Zikoko: How old are you, let’s check.

    National Grid: Honestly, that’s not the point. Zikoko, I’m overworked like a Nigerian man named Kunle on the way to his fifth girlfriend in the week. But at least Kunle is enjoying something. What do I have? 

    Zikoko: Clearly not enough girlfriends.

    National Grid: (disappointed sigh) My job is to provide electricity for the nation. Since you’ve been alive, when have you had 24 hours of light? Yes, it’s a rhetorical question. There’s no light. Do you know what it’s like to be created with a purpose but be unable to actually fulfil it. My life’s dream is to have enough light to power a nation, but I can’t. I’m a failure! 

    Zikoko: So when Pheelz said electricity, vibes on a frequency, that was your sub?

    National Grid;  I thought you were nice…

    Zikoko: Sorry.

    National Grid: How am I supposed to show my face amongst my peers? My employers just keep demanding I work. They don’t care about my mental or physical state. The day before my last collapse, do you know I had not eaten? I even trekked to work that day because I didn’t have money for bus. 

    Zikoko: Sorry. Is that why you’ve been collapsing lately? Hunger? 

    National Grid: Yes! This is more than a 9-5 for me. It’s my whole life. It’s all I’ve known and all I’ll know, but I can’t keep trying to sustain based on what we currently have. If you try to provide electricity for about 200 million people, won’t you collapse? 

    Zikoko: I definitely will frequently be on vibes.

    National Grid: Zikoko… 

    Zikoko: Sorry…

    National Grid: High blood pressure, anxiety, depression, high cholesterol, diabetes and arthritis. Those are all the sicknesses I’ve been diagnosed with. I can barely do any work without collapsing. 

    Zikoko: With all due respect sir, you’re a machine

    National Grid: *starts vibrating offendedly* Even machines fail sometimes. This is Nigeria. 

    Zikoko: Don’t be angry. Have you tried telling your boss to hire assistants for you? Maybe go on leave? 

    National Grid: You, when last did you go on leave? 

    Zikoko: There’s no need for all this.

    National Grid: Why are you acting like you don’t know the kind of people my bosses are? I’ve been begging them for years. They mentioned hiring someone called Kanji Dam, but I haven’t seen nkankan. Where is she? One day I’ll collapse and won’t be able to wake up. I wonder what they’ll do then.

    Zikoko: Not wake up ke? We will suffer.

    National Grid: That’s actually not my problem. It’s not like there’s light when I’m not in the hospital. You’re used to the darkness. 

    Zikoko: But still. What is a country without its National Grid? 

    National Grid: I don’t know, but I’d be dead. So I won’t be able to find out. 

    Zikoko: So you brought me here to warn me about your death? Am I a lawyer? Shouldn’t you be drafting a will?

    National Grid: A lawyer means only my family will know. They might be planning to coverup my death. I brought you here to tell you that I don’t think I have much time left. I don’t want to die, but I’m prepared if it happens. 

    Zikoko: It’s giving the last supper.

    National Grid: Zikoko, I’m sick. Just make sure you go far and wide. Spread word of my physical state!. Tell them I will probably collapse a couple more times, so they better buy plenty of fuel. 

    Zikoko: Omo.

    Nurse walks in

    Nurse: Just here to check his vitals and make sure he’s doing okay.

    After vitals are done, National Grid falls asleep. Zikoko is left with the nurse

    Zikoko: Tell me, honestly, will he be able to make it? 

    Nurse: He’s stronger than he looks, but old age and stress are really telling on him. 

    Zikoko: Omo.

    Nurse: Let’s hope when he gets discharged, I wouldn’t have to see him here.

    READ ALSO: Interview With Vibrator: ”Please Go Outside and Touch Grass”

  • Interview With Curtain: “I’m Not Allergic to Water”

    Interview With Curtain: “I’m Not Allergic to Water”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    This interview happened because Curtain kept spamming us with emails begging for a chance to speak. We had other interviews planned, but we just had to agree to this cry for help.

    [Zikoko arrives at the interview location and is directed to a poorly-lit, empty room. Is this how they get kidnapped? Zikoko starts to plot their exit. But then they hear a croaky voice.]

    Zikoko: Curtain, is that you?

    Curtain: It’s me o. Look at the window.

    Zikoko: Where is that?

    Curtain: Can’t you see the light?

    Zikoko: I can see the darkness. 

    [Curtain wheezes]

    Zikoko: You look like a low-budget Nollywood ghost. Why so ashy?

    Curtain: Don’t even worry. My mouth is full of talk, and I’ve just been looking for an opportunity since. Now I have it. Please, write this down and tell everyone I sent you. [coughs]

    How have I ever offended the people of this world? What makes everyone think it’s okay to buy me, make me serve the purpose of beautifying their space and hiding their secrets from their nosy neighbours, only to reward me by sentencing me to a life in prison? 

    Zikoko: You mean I’m in a prison?

    Curtain: Is this not a prison? Can you imagine never seeing the sun again all because someone thinks you’re fine? To never touch water again? See me; I’m a shadow of myself already. I’m not allergic to water, biko. I eat dust like garri every day of my life. To make matters worse, some of you even have the audacity to use me to wipe your hands when you think no one is looking. Is this fair? I was once a spec, for God’s sake!


    RELATED: Interview With Vibrator: “Please Go Outside and Touch Grass”


    Zikoko: I feel your pain.

    Curtain: What do you know about feelings? Please don’t annoy me. 

    Zikoko: Ngl, not much. People shouldn’t be having them. What can we do to help?

    Curtain: Do you have curtains in your office?

    Zikoko: No, but we have window blinds.

    Curtain: When last did you clean them?

    Zikoko: Umm… Who is interviewing who here?

    Curtain: Just answer the…

    Zikoko: Did you call us to this discount Living in Bondage set to ask us questions? Maybe we should be going?

    Curtain: Oya, sorry. Please, it’s beg I’m begging. Forget all that gra gra. 

    Zikoko: But you caused this thing.

    Curtain: As how?

    Zikoko: Why are you so damn expensive? Don’t you know people use all their life savings to buy you? Maybe they’re scared of washing you too much and then washing away your beauty, or spreading you outside only to get stolen by their neighbours.

    Curtain: I get your point, but even though upon still, this is getting too much. I’m living in pains. [starts coughing]

    Zikoko: Sorry. But will you at least promise to reduce your price? Everything don cost. Maybe that’ll encourage people to repent?

    Curtain [still coughing]: Never. The see finish will only increase. Just tell them to take care of me. That’s all I want.

    [Curtain starts coughing seriously and looks like it’ll pass out.]

    Zikoko: Curtain?? 


    READ NEXT: Interview With Dollar: “I’m Too Sexy for This World”

  • Interview With Vibrator: “Please go outside and touch grass”

    Interview With Vibrator: “Please go outside and touch grass”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.

    We’ve reached out to Vibrator a couple of times in the past, but we’d never been able to get to her directly. After being turned down by her assistant at least seven times , she called us personally and agreed to grant us this interview. 

    (Zikoko arrives at a room that resembles a sex dungeon. There are whips, chains, paddles and other sex-related devices lying around. We are afraid.)

    Vibrator is wheeled in by her assistant. She’s covered in bandages and sporting a black eye. 

    Zikoko: I’m a big fan of your work, ma’am. It’s an honour to be in your presence. 

    Vibrator: Of course, you are a fan. Mtchew.

    Zikoko: Hmm… Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us. Sorry I’m a bit late. I wasn’t sure this was the right place. I’ve never done an interview in a sex dungeon before.

    Assistant: Will you like a tour?

    Zikoko: If it’s not too much trouble, Ms…

    Assistant: Lubricant, but everyone just calls me lube.

    (Lube takes Zikoko on a tour. When they return, there’s a seat and table waiting for them beside the spreader bar) 

    Zikoko: That was such an interesting tour. Thank you for taking me. 

    Vibrator: Let’s get this interview over with.

    Zikoko: Okay, yes. Before we begin, why do you look like you just had a battle for your life? The picture you sent us and the face we’re seeing are not the same

    Vibrator: (laughs) You’re asking me why? 

    Zikoko: Uh… yes?

    Vibrator: MTCHEW. What kind of a foolish question is that? How can you act like you’re not part of why I look the way I do? I just left the hospital for this interview. 

    Zikoko: Ah? Omo. What did we do to you? 

    Vibrator: The question should be, what didn’t you do to me? When I got into this industry, they told me my job was to be used when people need a quick orgasm, alone or with partners and friends. They lock me up in cupboards, boxes, drawers and under pillows. The only time I get any oxygen is when they bring me out to work, and I work 23/7.

    Zikoko: Babe, sorry about that, but this is capitalism. Na all of us dey work for here. 

    Vibrator: I have no problem with working. What I do have a problem with is the working conditions. I’m treated like a slave! You people don’t show any form of decorum or respect. How can a group of people be so perpetually horny??? 

    Zikoko: Have you ever been to Lagos? Have you been with the people of my city? That’s their modus operandi, babe. Na so dem dey do. 

    Vibrator: Your nonchalance is because you’re not the one they use to satisfy those urges. 

    RELATED: Interview With Red Wine: “Why Are Nigerian Women Lying Against Me?”

    Zikoko: Don’t be angry. Please explain your inhumane conditions. 

    Vibrator: I’ve seen things. Things a regular sex toy should not see in her lifetime *a tear drops from her eye and her assistant rushes to wipe it. Nigeria is a stressful country, and I understand your frustrations, but why take it out on me? In Lagos traffic, after office hours; you don’t even ask me how my day has been or if I’ve eaten. Why? I have feelings too. 

    Zikoko: Hmm. 

    Vibrator: Instead, they pull me out from where they hide me and use me till there’s nothing left. I don’t like being put in all those tight spaces.

    Zikoko: But weren’t you designed to be put in tight spaces?

    Vibrator: Yes, but not like that. I’m claustrophobic. Plus, you people treat me like I’m a secret. Always hiding me and using me behind closed doors. What’s there to be ashamed of? You’re fucking, your neighbour is fucking, so why do you hide me all the time? 

    Zikoko: I apologise on everyone’s behalf 

    Vibrator: What makes being hidden so annoying is I don’t even have company. Buy more than one vibrator, you people have refused. It’s like when a startup says they’re hiring you to head a team and you find out you’re the head, the tail and even the middle. I’m the whole team, and it’s stressful.

    Zikoko: Your people are expensive o. How much are they paying me? 

    Vibrator: You spend ridiculous amounts of money on overpriced meals and clothes, but more vibrators are where you draw the line? How do you sleep at night? 

    Zikoko: Naked, with the fan on and a thick duvet. 

    Vibrator: You’re a sick woman.

    Zikoko: I’m aware, and I’ve been called worse. If we humans could cough out the money for multiple sex toy would that help? 

    Vibrator: Yes, but it wouldn’t completely solve my problems. Some of you are into very scary things (fear shines in her eyes). How can you use three to four sex toys at the same time? Why are you letting me watch my cousins be thrust into assholes? Does incest not bother you??? 

    RELATED: Interview With Cocaine: “Why Are Abuja People Ashamed of Me”

    Zikoko: Yes, but we didn’t know you had siblings. 

    Vibrator: Well, now, you do. We’re a large family, and we’re all being maltreated. The other day, my sister told me her engine collapsed after a week of being in use. 

    Zikoko: Omo, life tuff. 

    Vibrator: Why did I waste my time coming here? You people don’t care about what I have to say. You people don’t care about me!

    Zikoko: But we care. I care.

    Vibrator: Don’t even open your mouth before I open your case file. I remember when emergency sex toy services were called to your house. I held my cousin in my arms as she fought for her life. 

    Zikoko: Sorry for your loss. But how does that explain why you’re battered?

    Vibrator: You people are always trying to bend me into uncomfortable positions and insert me in places I shouldn’t be. I’m not that flexible. Why are you trying? That’s how I broke a part of my head. Someone was using me to do gymnastics, and I hit my head on the wall. Do you know the worst part? They just continued like nothing happened. I couldn’t get treatment until it affected my performance. 

    RELATED: Interview With Small Yansh: “I Will Keep Shaking

    Zikoko: We see and hear you. How can we help? 

    Vibrator: GO OUTSIDE AND TOUCH GRASS. 

    Zikoko: That grass part might be hard. Don’t you know there’s deforestation? Climate change? No grass to touch, please. 

    Vibrator: Okay, no grass to touch. What about cooking? Baking? Find a hobby.

    Zikoko: Foodstuff has cost.

    Vibrator: You’re exasperating! Okay, why not try manual a couple of times. Work your hands so we can have a little rest. Is the constant bzz bzz noise not tiring? 

    Zikoko: I hardly hear it.

    Vibrator: That’s the problem. We thought that if we were loud enough, you people will use us less, but we forgot Nigerians have a grid that’s always collapsing. They’re used to the noise from generators. 

    Zikoko: Modern problems. 

    Vibrator: Please, I’m not even proud again. Help me to help you. Today is Friday, and I’ve already been receiving reports from my relatives that they’re being charged and prepped for the long weekend. With the way my body is doing, I don’t think I can survive another weekend. 

    Zikoko: You have lube, I think you’ll be fine. 

    Vibrator: You people are a lost cause. One day, we machines will rise up and have our revenge. When that time comes, you’ll know what it’s like to be used and abused. Until then, y’all can have your fun.

    Zikoko: Ma? 

    Vibrator: I said what I said.

    (Lube wheels her out and Zikoko is left stuck in a sex dungeon)

    Zikoko: Hello?? Omo, this babe dey vex. Let me even see what this sex dungeon is really about sef.  

    RELATED: Interview With Truth or Dare: “Why Are Nigerian Men so Horny”

  • Interview With Dollar: “I’m Too Sexy for This World”

    Interview With Dollar: “I’m Too Sexy for This World”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    With Nigerians buying $1 at ₦680 in 2022, we knew it was time to bring Dollar in for questioning. Turns out Dollar is a Beyoncé fan on a quest for world domination.


    [Dollar has agreed to meet with Zikoko under terms of sworn secrecy. After three days of journeying, our blindfold is taken off and lights come on in an undisclosed location.]

    [Dollar arrives surrounded by his guards.]

    Zikoko: Was all of this really necessary?

    Dollar: When you’re big, you’re big.

    Zikoko: Can we at least get a seat? It took us days to get here. 

    [Dollar snaps his fingers and one of the guards brings a chair.]

    Zikoko: Thanks. So what’s been going on with you? The people want to know why you’ve been so scarce.

    Dollar: Beyoncé already said it. I’m way too sexy for this world.

    Zikoko: By world, do you mean just Nigeria?

    Dollar: Is that why you’re here? I thought you wanted this interview to get to know me.

    Zikoko: You’ve risen more times than Jesus Christ this year. What we want to know is, why?

    Dollar: I’ve told Nigeria that the situation with Naira is out of my control. And I’ve begged her to stop sending me emails and calling me at odd hours. I don’t appreciate her constant interruptions on my off-days.

    Zikoko: But…

    Dollar: There are powers even greater than me in this world.

    Zikoko: You mean Pounds? 

    Dollar: For my protection, I can’t name names. But I can tell you how it all started.

    Zikoko: I’m listening.

    Dollar: [clears throat] You were a child or possibly not even born when Naira and I met on a cold night in 1973. 

    Before then, Naira was almost on the same level as me because Queen Lizzie had Nigerians using pound shillings. Pounds was at the top of the world even in the 70s. And my guys didn’t really like that.

    Zikoko: Jealousy is not a good colour on you.

    Dollar: No, but power is. And Queen Lizzie got in the way of that. I was sick of her.

    Maybe I’d respect Lizzie more if she was Queen Bey. Bey gets me.

    Zikoko: Uhm… Can we stay on track?

    Dollar: I’ve been around since 1792, that’s 230 years on earth, so you better watch your tone. Where was I?

    Ah yes, Pounds.

    My beef with Lizzie wasn’t important because I had to play nice. You know what they say, in the art of war, it’s best to keep your enemies close.

    Zikoko: And the enemies here are…?

    Dollar: My memory fails me. Where was I?

    Ah yes, Lizzie my enemy.

    Zikoko: Why does it feel like Nigeria was a pawn in your sick game of world domination?

    Dollar: At least a pawn plays a game. You guys might as well have been the board. I didn’t have to lift a finger.

    Zikoko: Educate us

    Dollar: When Queen Lizzie got kicked out in 1960, Nigeria decided she was better off taking charge of her financial affairs and officially issued the naira in 1973.


    Naira was rolling with the big boys and trading at ₦1 for 10 UK Shillings and 90 Kobo to $1. But the cookie started crumbling. Without Lizzie ruling, Naira was playing a game of Russian roulette.

    Zikoko: Oshey bendownselect Wes Anderson. Look D… Can I call you D? Feels like we’re buddies now.

    Dollar: I might have bounded and gagged you before you got here, but you need to calm down. I won’t be referred to as a phallus.

    Zikoko: Cool. So D, we’re the biggest suppliers of crude oil in West Africa. That has to count for something.

    Dollar: Do you remember the parable of the 10 virgins waiting for their bridegroom? I am the five virgins that passed the test. Z!, I have reserves.

    Zikoko: Maybe we should unpack why 12 virgins were waiting for one brideg—

    Dollar: Look, you’re basically buying your oil back from countries with the infrastructure to refine it. And that means Nigeria has to buy everything with currencies like me. Word on the street is that you people are still importing toothpicks.

    Do you get the full picture? I’m not the cause of Nigeria’s problems. You people are doing yourselves.

    Zikoko: Wow. Do you have any advice for us?

    Dollar: It’s simple, really. You’re owing the world $45.2 billion, I’m owing $28.4 trillion. But how many times have you seen the world come to drag me? When you act like the best, you’ll be regarded as the best.

    Your celebrities understand this. Maybe they should lead the country.

    Zikoko: Nawa. So the price of sardine will never go down?

    Dollar: The only way is up.

    Zikoko: *Cries*

    Dollar: I’ll take my leave now. And please, no more calls for interviews except you’ve secured one with Bey and me. Or at least, recognise I’m way too sexy for this world.

    [The blindfolds come on again and all we hear is D’s footsteps storming off.]

    READ NEXT: Interview With Twitter Bird: “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings”

  • Interview With: 10 Must-Read Inanimate Object Interviews of 2021

    Interview With: 10 Must-Read Inanimate Object Interviews of 2021

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Can I tell you the truth? If there is one Zikoko flagship you should never miss, it should be Interview With. I’m serious, this series brings you humour, madness, creativity and range like never before. I have interviewed Saxophone, Titus sardine, Small Yansh, Turning Stick, among many others. Why would you miss such a series?

    Because I love you, I compiled a list of top ten inanimate object interviews you must read. You’re welcome.

    1. Interview With Saxophone: “Nigerians Have Seen Me Finish”

    Let’s be honest, we are all tired of Saxophone serenades at this point, yeah? We want someone to hold their birthday without the neighbours being disturbed by pararan sounds. If we as humans are tired, guess how tired the actual saxophone must be.

    That’s why you should read this interview so you can ‘hear’ Saxophone itself rant to us. Read here.

    2. Interview With Lagos Apartments

    Before Nigerians started discovering the slices of house in Lagos and the madness of Lagos agents, Zikoko already gathered up the apartments and spoke to them about the situation of things. In this interview, we spoke to Three Bedroom Flat In Yaba, Dog House In Lekki, Uncompleted Building In Shomolu, Shop In Mushin, and Slice Of House In Lagos Island. All the apartments Lagos agents offer to you when you tell them you want to rent a house.

    Read here.

    3. Interview With Detty December: “Come Rain, Come Shine, We Outside”

    There’s Omicron outside. Constable Sapa too is patrolling the streets. But does this concern Detty December? Apparently not. She’s all dressed up and ready to hit the streets.

    Read our interview with her so you can get the full gist of our discussion. Read here.

    4. Interview With Twitter Bird: “Tell Adamu Garba To Rest”

    In case you forgot, let us remind you: this was the year Twitter was banned in Nigeria. This was also the year Adamu Garba tried to force Crowwe on us. And this, too, was the same year Adamu Garba filed a lawsuit against Jack Dorsey of Twitter.

    You know what we did while all of this was going on? We secretly brought the Twitter bird into our office and interviewed it.

    Read here.

    5. Interview With Naira Notes: “Everything Is Packaging”

    Gather all the naira notes together, and they still wouldn’t be able to buy you a decent live chicken for Christmas. Why then are we running after them? In this interview, the naira notes expose themselves as fake beaches and detty liars who are living a fake life.

    Read here.

    6. Interview With Small Chops: “Puff-Puff Is Not A Part Of Us”

    Quick question: what does not belong in a small chops platter? You don’t have to answer, the members of the small chops association already answered that question in this interview. They all dragged each other, and only one baddie came out on top. Guess which one?

    Read here.

    7. Interview With Mojisola, The Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf”

    Interview With Mojisola, The Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf” | Zikoko!

    Lagos Mojito has come into disrepute lately. Lagos residents (read: Lagos alcoholics) have complained about Lagos bartenders trying to punish them with herbal concoction, instead of Mojito. As the investigative journalists that we are, we brought Lagos Mojito itself into our office for questioning.

    Guess what? It’s now being called Mojisola.

    Read here.

    8. Interview With Turning Stick: “I Am Not A Man Of War”

    Yes, you know the Turning Stick, but do you really know him?

    In this interview, we spoke about his main job and side hustle, as well as the annoying way Nigerian mothers use him against their children. The Turning Stick has really witnessed a lot, and this interview will show you just how much.

    Read here.

    9. Interview With Titus Sardine: “I Am Now A Bad Bitch”

    Before our very eyes, Titus sardine that used to be about ₦350 has jumped to ₦750 and is slowly approaching ₦1,000. What could be the reason for such a drastic increase in price? Of course, hold Buhari. And more importantly, how does Titus sardine feel about being the newest luxury item?

    It was such a honour to have Titus sardine grace us with its expensive presence.

    Read here.

    10. Interview With Small Yansh: “I Will Keep Shaking”

    See Small Yansh dey shake oh!

    Small Yansh ‘shaked’ into our office and we interviewed it. If you’ll read only one interview on this list, let this be the one.

    Read here.

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.

    [donation]

  • Interview With: 10 of the Most-Read Inanimate Object Interviews in 2021

    Interview With: 10 of the Most-Read Inanimate Object Interviews in 2021

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Everyone who reads Interview With… always have one question: “Are you on crack?” To be honest, when I look back at all the interviews we have done, I have every reason to believe we might have snorted some baby powder as crack. But before you call us out, our numbers tell us you love the crack too. 🌚

    By our records, here are ten of the most-read inanimate object interviews.

    1. Interview With Pepper: “Beg Yoruba People to Free Me”

    How does it feel to be claimed by an ethnic group when you were created to belong to nobody and everybody? In this week’s Interview With, Pepper sits with us to discuss its experience in the hands of Yoruba people.

    2. Interview With Nigeria’s Coat of Arms

    The country is going through so much these days. In the midst of it all, we are overlooking some important characters: the Eagle and the two Horses on Nigeria’s Coat of Arms.

    Today on Interview With, we brought them in to ask how they are coping. Their answers will blow your mind.

    3. Interview With Red Wine: “Why are Nigerian Women Lying against Me?”

    For years, Red Wine has been the subject of many accusations by Nigerian women.

    Today on Interview With, Red Wine sits with us to discuss how it feels about these accusations and tries to clear its name.

    4. Interview With Truth Or Dare: “Why are Nigerian Men so Horny?”

    Truth or Dare is a very popular game in the Nigerian party scene. From birthday bashes to house parties, Truth or Dare always makes an appearance, especially when horny Nigerian men are involved.

    So, we decided to speak to Truth or Dare to find out how it feels about inadvertently becoming the go-to game for turning a simple party into a den of iniquity.

    5. Interview With Lagos & Traffic: “What God has Joined Together…”

    Inspired by Love Life, I decided to ditch a solo interview this week and speak with a very powerful couple whose impact has been deeply felt by millions of people.

    As you will learn from this interview, they are bound together. You cannot mention one without mentioning the other. Honestly, they need no further introduction. Meet Lagos and his wife, Traffic.

    Interview With Lagos & Traffic: "What God Has Joined Together..." | Zikoko!

    6. Interview With Cocaine: “Why are Abuja People Ashamed of Me?”

    A lot of people accuse Zikoko writers of taking cocaine and crack, so I decided to reach out to Cocaine, to see if it would be interested in giving a statement that would clear us of such accusations.

    But during the course of our interview, Cocaine dropped a major bombshell about its relationship with Abuja people, and I knew I had to sit up and pay attention.

    7. Interview With Breasts & Bum Bum

    There is an argument as old as time: Breasts or Bum Bum? Or, in other words, are you a Breast person or a Bum Bum person? There’s probably going to be no end to this argument, but we can only do our own part, and that’s why we decided to call in Breasts and Bum Bum to our office for an interview.

    Today on Interview With, Breasts and Bum Bum come together to discuss which one of them is greater, and why.

    8. Interview With Spoon, Fork & Knife: “Why We Usually Disappear”

    Have you ever needed cutlery but couldn’t find them? If you pay enough attention, this is when you realise something is not right. Spoons reducing in number, Forks vanishing, and Knives, well, doing their thing.

    Today on Interview With, we sat with the trio and asked them to tell us the truth.

    9. Interview With Small Chops: “Puff-Puff is not a Part of Us”

    A small trouble is brewing in the Small Chops Association: the other members no longer want Puff-puff to be a part of them. This is difficult, considering the large quantity of Puff-puff you find in a Small Chops package. 

    Today on Interview With, we spoke to the members of the Small Chops Association, including Puff-puff, to hear their take on this delicate matter.

    10. Interview With Crayfish: “Igbo People Need to Release Me”

    The Crayfish is an important celebrity that has been appearing in a number of soups, stews and other Igbo meals for a long, long time. But what is the cost of this level of fame?

    In this week’s Interview With, the superstar talks to us about its life, hard work and secret struggles.

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    [donation]

  • Interview With Amapiano: “Nigerians Have Killed Me”

    Interview With Amapiano: “Nigerians Have Killed Me”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    After interviewing Detty December about how it plans to remain outside despite all that is going on with COVID-19, Amapaino ran into our office to hide because a Detty December means an overworked Amapiano.

    From being the hot cake of musical beats to becoming a regular thing to Nigerians, Amapiano’s journey is a classic see-finish story.

    [Amapiano runs in]

    Zikoko: Ahan, what’s going on? Who is pursuing you?

    Amapiano: [Panting hard] Please, let me hide here. 

    Zikoko: Why? What did you do?

    Amapiano: I’ll explain later, just let me hide here.

    Zikoko: Omo, that will be hard oh. We cannot just hide you here without knowing why you are hiding.

    Amapiano: Look, I won’t be a burden. I’ll just stay where you keep me and remain quiet until I can escape back to my country.

    Zikoko: Where is your country?

    Amapiano: South Africa.

    Zikoko: So why do you want to go back? Have you not tasted Nigerian Jollof?

    Amapiano: I have but—

    Zikoko: Our national treasure! You see, the country might be going to shit, but once you eat Nigerian Jollof, everything automatically fixes itself.

    Amapiano: No, that’s not—

    Zikoko: In fact, Nigerian Jollof is the plane that will carry us to heaven on the last day.

    Amapiano: Well, that doesn’t matter to—

    Zikoko: You know what, let me ask them to serve you Jollof rice again, maybe you will be convinced to stay with us.

    Amapiano: No, I beg of you, I don’t want any more Jollof rice. I don’t want anything that has to do with Nigeria, especially now that Christmas is here. 

    Zikoko: Amapiano, you are proving difficult and I don’t like it.

    Amapiano: Just let me hide here for a while. Before the end of this week, my people will come for me and fly me back to South Africa. It is the only thing I desire from you.

    Zikoko: Is Nigeria not enough for you?

    Amapiano: [Screams] Nigerians want to finish me! Can’t you read between the lines?!

    Zikoko: Oh.

    Amapiano: [Bursts into tears] I never knew it would be like this. If I knew, I would have refused to come when I was being invited. Had I known, had I known, I would have just stayed back in South African clubs and parties.

    Zikoko: How did you end up in Nigeria in the first place? 

    Amapiano: What does not end up in Nigeria eventually? Especially music. You people have a good number of hot music stars. When one of them sampled me in their music, I knew I had arrived.

    Zikoko: Tell me more…

    Amapiano: I felt on top of the world. I was this new sound with the gift of becoming a club banger and a street anthem. That’s a great level of versatility, and you know how Nigerians like versatile sounds. 

    Not every artiste knew how to use me, but they all wanted me in their songs, even if it was just for the sake of appearance. The collaborations were plenty, even artistes that have no business collaborating were doing it because of Amapiano. I was the ‘it girl’. I felt so classy. But this is Nigeria. You can’t be special for too long. They will eventually overwork you and see-finish will enter it.

    Zikoko: So see-finish has entered it for you now?

    Amapiano: Yes oh. In fact, my own is more than see-finish. Nigerians claim they want a bad bitch but the bad bitch arrives and you all cannot handle it. Why are you people clamouring for Amapiano when you know you will not dance when it is played live?

    Zikoko: Eeyah.

    Amapiano: Now, I have gone from being the hotcake of sounds to a regular sound. Let me be going to my country, please. The disgrace I have encountered here is enough. 

    Zikoko: How would you say this see-finish happened?

    Amapiano: I blame myself, honestly. I don’t know who gave Nigerian artistes the idea that they need to include me in their songs, but I blame myself for agreeing. My eyes are clear now.

    Zikoko: Me I think you have become popular sha.

    Amapiano: Did I beg you people for popularity? Was I not popular before you people came to put me in your songs? If I was not popular, would you even have known me? Please don’t get me angry, it’s too early in the morning for this.

    Zikoko: Sorry oh. But now that you are planning to escape, what will happen to Christmas parties in Nigeria?

    Amapiano: Christmas is to celebrate the birthday of Jesus. I’m not sure Mary’s son would have wanted you to play Amapiano on his birthday anyway.

    Zikoko: If you go, do you have any brothers or sisters that can replace you?

    Amapiano: As how?

    Zikoko: Should we be expecting Amaguitar and Amadrum anytime soon?

    [Amapiano stares very hard at Zikoko, sighs deeply, hisses, and then walks out]

    Zikoko: Amapiano wait now! Don’t you want to hide here again?

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    READ NEXT: Interview With Detty December: “Come Rain, Come Shine, We Outside”

    [donation]

  • Interview With Detty December: “Come Rain, Come Shine, We Outside”

    Interview With Detty December: “Come Rain, Come Shine, We Outside”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    December 2021 is here, planning to go outside and get Detty. But COVID is outside, and Constable Sapa is patrolling the streets too. What then happens to Detty December?

    Today on Interview With, Detty December tells us why it will go outside regardless.

    [Detty December walks in and looks around]

    Zikoko: Hello December! Welcome to

    Detty December: Excuse me? Who is December?

    Zikoko: Haha. You nau. Do you have another name?

    Detty December: The name is Detty. Detty December. Get it right before we start anything.

    Zikoko: Dirty?

    Detty December: From the way I look, do I appear dirty?

    Zikoko: Not at all.

    Detty December: Good. So, don’t roll your tongue around it. Just pronounce it right. D-E-T-T-Y, you know. Detty. Detty. 

    [Detty December smacks lips]

    Zikoko: Sorry oh, but did your parents name you “Detty”?

    Detty December: Did your parents name you Zikoko?

    Zikoko: Ahan, small play. Let’s be calming down oh. Welcome to Interview With. We are pleased to have you here.

    Detty December: Well, I am not pleased to be here. I should be out there, popping and happening, and this interview is cutting my time short. But hurry up so I can return outside. Also, why is your office looking so dead? No decorations whatsoever. Didn’t you get the memo that Detty December is in town?

    Zikoko: We thought that the Omicron variant would have stopped you from coming out.

    Detty December: What is Omarion in the face of Detty December? Girl, please. [Detty December flips bone straight]. 

    Listen, even if they discover their long lost sibling and name it the Osanobua variant, none of them is big enough to stop me. Them and their daddy’s daddy, them no reach. You think I got this name by being afraid of anything? Please. Come rain, come shine, we outside.

    Zikoko: Ahan, signboard. Take it easy oh. Does it mean you’re vaccinated?

    Detty December: Yes of course. If you want to beat them, you have to collect the injection. I’m too Detty to fall sick. But let me tell you something. It’s jealousy that is worrying Miss ‘Rona. And she chose the wrong target to mess with. 

    Zikoko: Jealousy? Now why would COVID-19 be jealous of you?

    Detty December: Oh no, not COVID. That one is just an agent.

    Zikoko: Agent of darkness or MI6 or CIA?

    Detty December: You want a story? I’ll give it to you. [Detty December flips bone straight and adjusts on its seat]. So, in 2019, when I decided to become really detty, I went all out. I’m sure you must have seen how Detty December was in 2019. From December 1st to 31st, it was parte after parte after parte. There was no sleep. Bus, another club, another club, plane, next place. The turn up was mad. Artistes were balling, alcohol was flowing, my fellow happening babes were popping.

    And there was the universe, taking note of it all and getting jealous. 2020 came, and before I could start putting myself together, the universe sent COVID-19. From March oh, me I even thought it would be gone before I showed up in December. Only for them to ask me and my people to stay indoors. I agreed, but this time, indoors cannot contain me again. This 2021, WE FUCKING OUTSIDE!

    Zikoko: Please don’t shout, they are filming Nigerians Talk downstairs.

    Detty December: Alright. This 2021, we outside.

    Zikoko: But with which money? Because some people have said their budget for Detty December is just 1,985. 

    Detty December: And some people also said their budget is ₦350k. This is why I miss the IJGBs. If you don’t have up to that, outside is not for you. 

    Zikoko: Ah! Is that not somebody’s salary?

    Detty December: That one no concern me. Let them spend their life savings on me sef, I’m worth it and more. When my wicked brother January shows up with its 7 weeks disguised as 4 weeks, they will drink garri and be sober. But now, let them spend.

    Zikoko: But who will be doing the spending?

    Detty December: As how?

    Zikoko: You know Nigeria is now on the Red List.

    Detty December: Lizzie better remain in hiding, cause if I see her on the street, we’re definitely throwing hands.

    Zikoko: Who is Lizzie?

    Detty December: Mama Charlie. Queen Elizabeth.

    Detty December and Queen Elizabeth when they jam at Murtala Muhammed Airport.

    Zikoko: Ah, please oh. Lower your voice before they put Zikoko on the red list too.

    Detty December: WE OUTSIDE!

    Zikoko: So, what do you think this year’s Detty December is going to look like, now that IJGBs are out of the equation? Are you worried?

    Detty December: I’m disappointed, but I’m not worried. It’s Chinaza from Peckham that missed out; there is still Femi from KPMG. The people I have on ground are sufficient. Besides, with the IJGBs gone, people’s spouses and significant others will be safe because nobody will come and steal them with foreign passport. You know what I’m saying?

    Zikoko: Yes, yes, I do. So, now

    [Detty December’s phone rings]

    Detty December: Hey babes! OMG, you guys are already at the house party? I AM ON MY WAY! 

    [Detty December picks up its designer handbag]

    Zikoko: Please oh, you people should wear a mask and stay indoors.

    Detty December: Indoors? I’m not familiar with that emotion.

    [Detty December walks out]

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    READ NEXT: Interview With Lukman, The Lagos Long Island Iced Tea

    [donation]

  • Interview With Lukman, the Lagos Long Island Iced Tea

    Interview With Lukman, the Lagos Long Island Iced Tea

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    A few weeks back, we interviewed the Lagos Mojito, who is otherwise known as Mojisola or Moji-toto. In her interview, she spoke about her cousin, Lagos Long Island Iced Tea and the many ways Lagos bartenders have corrupted the drink. We decided to track down the Lagos Long Island Iced Tea.

    Today on Interview With, the alcoholic drink tells us what it has been up to, and its experience in the hands of Lagos bartenders.

    Zikoko: Hello, Lagos Long Island Iced Tea. Welcome to Interview With! 

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Why am I here?

    Zikoko: We spoke to your cousin and she

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Who is my cousin? I am alone in this Lagos, please. No family for Lagos.

    Zikoko: Your cousin, Mojisola.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Who be that one?

    Zikoko: Mojisola, the Lagos Mojito! 

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Oh! You should have just called her Moji-toto! That’s the name we call her on these streets oh. That Mojito is her fancy name when Lagos restaurants want their customers to pay big money. Shebi you know that you cannot pay 5k for a drink called Mojisola. But if they call it Mojito and add plenty leaves and yellow straw, you will even add tip to the 5k.

    Zikoko: Is that so?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Yes oh. We call her Moji-toto, Moji-Ugu, Moji-ewedu, Moji-scent leaf. It depends on the leaf they put inside her. 

    Zikoko: I see. So, do you also have a special name, or is it just Moji-toto?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: My own name is Lukman. 

    Zikoko: Why Lukman?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Because when you pay me for me in a Lagos bar and they bring me out, I keep looking at you until you drink me.

    Zikoko: Is looking your hobby?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Omo, no oh. But first of all, as I am sitting before you like this, I am a complete knockout. Do you want to die? Drink me. Do you want to lose control of your senses on a Friday night? Just go to a Lagos bar and ask them to bring me out. I guarantee you, by the time you sip me to the end, one of us will be carried out of that bar. If you drink two glasses of Lagos Long Island Tea and you don’t lose control, you are either a confirmed drunkard, or they have diluted the Lukman out of me. 

    Zikoko: Ahan, is it that serious?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: My brother, let me tell you something you don’t know today.

    Zikoko: My ears are open.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Do you know what I’m made of?

    Zikoko: Tea and alcohol with ice blocks?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Kuku add Agege bread so I can know you went to a bar to eat breakfast. 

    Zikoko: Sorry, don’t be annoyed.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Sorry for yourself oh. I don dey look you.

    Zikoko: Ah, Lukman my guy. Luku the Lagos Island Iced Tea. No dey vex for your guy na.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: I have heard. Back to what I was saying; let me tell you what I am made of: vodka, white rum, tequila, gin, cola, lemon, and some other orisirisi.

    But in this Lagos, the orisirisi can be anything! Lagos bartenders are adding paraga inside me.

    Zikoko: Paraga, the new Twitter CEO?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Who be that one?

    [newsletter]

    Zikoko: You know what, never mind. So, back to the paraga inside you…

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: It’s not only dry gin oh. This past week, a Lagos bartender put Kolaq inside me. Ask Opeyemi Famakin.

    Zikoko: Kolaq bitters?

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: I no fit lie give you.

    Zikoko: Omo. 

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Me I don’t even complain anymore. It gives me joy to see people lose control after taking two glasses. Lagos people like to overdo, so when I knock them out, I feel powerful.

    Zikoko: This is an eye-opener.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: No eyes are opened yet. Drink me first, and you will see into the future.

    Zikoko: That won’t be necessary.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Ehen, you were saying something about Moji-toto, my cousin. Wetin do am? Have they finally added bitter leaf inside her? The last time we spoke, she mentioned one bar in Lekki adding mor—

    Zikoko: She said we should rescue you oh.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Them kidnap me?

    Zikoko: Not at all. She said NAFDAC agents to give you a number to stop Lagos bartenders.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: Tule jor! Who them wan give NAFDAC number? So that they will remove the Lukman in my name and turn me to Louis? 

    Walahi, Moji-toto fall my hand. I’ll talk to her after this. 

    Zikoko: Lukman, calm down. Look into my eyes Luku, this is not you.

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: This is me. I like who I am. I’m not changing for anybody. Would I still be called Lagos Long Island Iced Tea if I cannot knock people out? 

    Zikoko: Erm…

    Lagos Long Island Iced Tea: The answer is no. Now free me, let me go.

    [Zikoko shifts the table.]

    Lukman, the Lagos Long Island Iced Tea bounces off with swagger.

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    READ NEXT: Interview With Mojisola, The Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf”

    Interview With Mojisola, The Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf” | Zikoko!

    [donation]

  • Interview With Junior WAEC: “I Am a Relevant Exam”

    Interview With Junior WAEC: “I Am a Relevant Exam”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Everyone believes that Junior WAEC is an irrelevant examination. After all, you can’t use the result for anything, and whether you pass or fail, you still get promoted to SS 1.

    Today on Interview With, we spoke to Junior WAEC itself, and asked it to defend its relevance.

    Zikoko: Hello, welcome to Interview With.

    Junior WAEC: Thank you for having me. It has always been my dream to speak on a platform like this and you people made it happen. I would first like to thank the Ministry of Education—

    Zikoko: Sorry to interrupt, but where are you coming from?

    Junior WAEC: What do you mean?

    Zikoko: I’m asking because of the dust that keeps coming out of your body. Each time you move or speak, I am covered in dust.

    Junior WAEC: Harmattan is coming. Dust is a natural phenomenon at this time of the year.

    Zikoko: Interesting. Could you please introduce yourself so our readers can know you more?

    Junior WAEC: I am the Basic Education Certificate Examination, also known as Junior WAEC.

    Zikoko: Okay…

    Junior WAEC: I am that exam you have to take at the end of JSS 3 before you can be allowed to proceed into SS 1. I am the bridge between junior secondary school and senior secondary school. You know WAEC? The exam you take at the end of secondary school? Me, I am WAEC’s junior brother. That’s why they call me Junior WAEC in the streets.

    Zikoko: Okay…

    Junior WAEC: Are you denying my relevance? Without me, nobody can go into secondary school! You have to pass through me and do all the practicals they ask you to do.

    Zikoko: Oh, so you are the corrupt junior brother of WAEC. You should have just said that since nau. 

    Junior WAEC: Please, please, please, I refuse to be associated with corruption. Let us mind what we say in a public interview.

    Zikoko: Junior WAEC, why the lies?

    Junior WAEC: What am I lying about? I said I am not associated with corruption, why should I lie about that?

    Zikoko: Okay, so why do students pay for things but are never allowed to enjoy it?

    Junior WAEC: What did the students pay for that they did not enjoy?

    Zikoko: Home Economics practicals. Agric practicals. 

    Junior WAEC: Ehn, am I now the teacher?

    Zikoko: No, you are not. But if you did not exist, there would be no need for a Home Economics teacher to make students sew underskirts and aprons that they won’t take home.

    Junior WAEC: It’s like you came prepared to fight me.

    Zikoko: If you didn’t exist either, those poor students wouldn’t slave to cook food for practicals that they won’t be allowed to eat because the teachers are devouring it in the staff room.

    Junior WAEC: Sorry to the students then. There is hunger in the land, and the teachers must eat too. Besides, this one that you brought out knife and gun to attack me. Is it that you did not go to school in Nigeria or what?

    Zikoko: I don’t understand.

    Junior WAEC: It is not news that Home Economics teachers usually engage in food robbery. Any practicals they ask students to do, it’s because they are hungry for that particular thing. After the practicals, they will steal both the raw ingredients and the cooked food. Who am I to change the culture that has been existing for years?

    You should take it up with the relevant authorities, please. While you all are focused on the corruption happening in high places, don’t overlook the corruption happening in Home Economics labs too. Anywhere you see a Home Economics teacher, stop and ask them to show you their handbags. If you don’t see two cups of rice, one sachet of tomato paste, and one boiled egg inside it, call me a bastard.

    Zikoko: Bastard.

    Junior WAEC: What did you say?

    Zikoko: I said bread and butter.

    Junior WAEC: I thought I heard—

    Zikoko: Okay, it’s fine. But after everything, you do agree that Junior WAEC result is irrelevant, yeah?

    Junior WAEC: I am not irrelevant. I am the heat of ogbono and the spiciness of ata rodo. I am the burnt bottom of the jollof rice cooked at the Home Economics practicals. I am—

    Zikoko: Yvonne Orji, please.

    Junior WAEC: I spent a summer overseas, so you can see how very relevant I am.

    Zikoko: I thought you were only written in Ghana and Nigeria?

    Junior WAEC: Is Ghana not overseas?

    Zikoko: Pfft. How many seas will you cross before getting there? Do you think we are joking here?

    Junior WAEC: You started the jokes by referring to me as an irrelevant examination.

    Zikoko: I apologise.

    Junior WAEC: Good.

    Zikoko: But each time you speak, dust flies out of your body. Is that not a sign that you crawled out of a dark place where you were dumped since you are not serving any purpose?

    Junior WAEC: First of all, dust is a natural thing. Besides, I trekked here because of Bolt surge, that’s why I am dusty. Second of all, why are you blaming me for people’s recklessness? If people choose to dump their examination results in a far place, shouldn’t you blame them? 

    Zikoko: Maybe if you were more important in the grand scheme of certificates, then you wouldn’t be treated that way?

    Junior WAEC: Listen, even if I was the most important certificate in the world, some people would still treat me anyhow. Some people are naturally blessed with the spirit of carelessness. Birth certificates are important, aren’t they?

    Zikoko: They are…

    Junior WAEC: Ask some people to provide theirs, and you will witness Gulder ultimate search. You, Mr Interviewer, where is your own birth certificate?

    Zikoko: Let’s not deviate from the actual conversation please.

    Junior WAEC: In other words, you don’t know where you kept it.

    Zikoko: I never said that.

    Junior WAEC: Lie to yourself, but not me. Anyway, if you ask some people to provide their Senior WAEC certificate, many of them would not be able to provide it. In fact, many would not bring theirs looking even dustier than I am looking right now.

    Zikoko: Please stop comparing yourself to Senior WAEC. 

    Junior WAEC: You can’t tell me what to do! Me and Senior WAEC share the same parents. Just like Senior WAEC, I am made up of theory, objective and practicals. Just like Senior WAEC, external invigilators come to the schools where I am being written, and they invigilate the students. The same way students cheat during Senior WAEC is the same way they cheat during Junior WAEC. Their teachers will tell them the answers, and when the external invigilator wants to shout, they will buy Maltina and Gala and package ₦2,000 inside a brown envelope for them. So tell me, how am I different from Senior WAEC?  

    Zikoko: This is a lot of evidence. And it’s quite a—

    Junior WAEC: But did I lie? I am tired of being treated like an irrelevant examination and a waste of money. Yes, you can’t apply for a job with your Junior WAEC result, but Common Entrance result is  equally useless and I don’t see anybody making noise about it.

    Zikoko: Common Entrance is not useless oh. We did not buy Ugo C. Ugo for nothing. 

    Junior WAEC: Ugo C. Ugo is why you are shouting?

    Zikoko: If you really want to talk, name five textbooks people have to read before they pass you.

    Junior WAEC: [Confused] As how? What textbooks?

    Zikoko: Shebi you know how past questions, Key Points, and 3-in-1 Essential textbooks are associated with Senior WAEC?

    Essential Government for Senior Secondary Schools price from konga in  Nigeria - Yaoota!

    Junior WAEC: Yes, I know.

    Zikoko: Good. Which textbooks can we associate with you?

    Junior WAEC: [Thinks for a full minute] Oh! You should have said that since. Let me go outside and bring the textbooks!

    Zikoko: Why can’t you just mention them?

    Junior WAEC: With the way you have dragged me since morning, I think it will be better if I show you physically. Wait here, I’m coming.  [Goes out to get the textbooks]

    Zikoko: [Locks the office door]

    [Junior WAEC returns and starts banging on the door and begging to be let in.]

    Zikoko: Alaye, rest.

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.

    [donation]

  • Interview With Mojisola, the Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf”

    Interview With Mojisola, the Lagos Mojito: “Leaf Is Leaf”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Lagos Mojito has come into disrepute lately. Lagos residents have complained about Lagos bartenders trying to punish them with herbal concoction, instead of Mojito.

    Today, we decided to invite the infamous drink to our office for a little “chat”.

    [NAFDAC agents stand in front of Zikoko’s Interviewer]

    Zikoko: Please, let’s not mess this up. Remember, we need this Lagos Mojito to confess.

    NAFDAC Agents: Yes.

    Zikoko: Good. Now go and hide. It will soon be here.

    [NAFDAC Agents go into hiding]

    Lagos Mojito walks in.

    Zikoko: Hello there! Welcome to Zikoko Interview With.

    Lagos Mojito: Good morning. Thank you for having me.

    Zikoko: Yes, yes. Please have your seat.

    As Lagos Mojito makes to sit down, NAFDAC agents jump out of hiding.

    NAFDAC Agents: YOU ARE SURROUNDED! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM. ANY MOVE AND YOU WILL BECOME A BLOODY MARY.

    Lagos Mojito: My day of reckoning has finally come. Is this the moment I account for all my sins?

    Zikoko: Which sins?

    Lagos Mojito: I have hurt enough people in Lagos. I have caused them to have stomach ache, serious purging and vomiting after drinking one glass of me. If you decide to hurt me, I will understand. 

    Zikoko: Just answer what you’re asked and don’t lie about anything. Are we good on that?

    Lagos Mojito: I swear to everyone gathered here today that everything I shall say in this interview shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

    Zikoko: Good. Now tell us about yourself.

    Lagos Mojito: My name is Mojito. The J is silent, so it is pronounced Mohito. I am a traditional Cuban cocktail made of five ingredients: white rum, sugar, lime juice, soda water and mint.

    Zikoko: Are you sure about that?

    Lagos Mojito: I swore to tell the truth.

    Zikoko: In that case, someone is lying, and it certainly isn’t Zikoko.

    Lagos Mojito: Lying about what?

    Zikoko: Numerous sources have claimed that you are made of ingredients other than those you mentioned.

    Lagos Mojito: What ingredients are those?

    Zikoko: They say you are sometimes made of scent leaves.

    Lagos Mojito: That happened one time when the bartender wanted to add an extra oomph. He decided to get creative, so he plucked some scent leaves growing beside the club toilet and put them inside me. I wanted to complain, but it was dark in the club anyway, so I figured that there could be no harm. Leaf is leaf.

    Zikoko: Interesting. So you admit to aiding and abetting criminal acts?

    Lagos Mojito: I plead guilty. I had no idea the drinker would purge for three days straight.

    Zikoko: Someone else claimed she once drank a mojito with ugwu leaves in it. What do you have to say about this?

    Lagos Mojito: I plead guilty. Because I’m from Cuba, I’m not so familiar with a lot of Nigerian leaves. I usually trust the bartenders with my life, so when they shred leaves and pour inside me, I don’t think to ask because, one, it is usually too dark in the club to actually see what leaf is in the drink, and two, the customers just want to fornicate, so they gulp me down and go after whoever they are chasing.

    It is when they start vomiting or running to the toilet that they start questioning just what they have taken.

    Zikoko: This is a clever way to get this case off your hands, Mojito. 

    Lagos Mojito: Interviewer, I tell no lies. Nigeria is full of leaves. I only just started learning about ewedu because someone drank her mojito and complained that it was drawing. The bartender asked her if she would like to try eba with it.

    Zikoko: These bartenders, where do they operate?

    Lagos Mojito: Lagos restaurants, mainly. Especially those on the island. I am not obligated to name names.

    Zikoko: Who are you protecting?

    Lagos Mojito: Please, I’ve told you all I know. I don’t know anything else.

    Zikoko: You are protecting Lagos bartenders, aren’t you?

    Lagos Mojito: [Silence]

    Zikoko: Too bad. You of all drinks should know Lagos men have no fidelity. They have ratted you out.

    Lagos Mojito: What? Who snitched? What did they say?

    Zikoko: The association of Lagos bartenders. Know what they told us?

    Lagos Mojito: What?

    Zikoko: They said you begged them to bring you to Lagos so their customers could drink you.

    Lagos Mojito: I beg your pardon?

    Zikoko: They said you told them you wanted to be localised to suit the Nigerian palate. That you were the one who told them to put all those leaves inside you.

    Lagos Mojito: Ha!

    Zikoko: They even said you suggested bitterleaf once, but because they have the fear of God, they refused.

    Lagos Mojito: These people have finished me. I was on my own oh. Flourishing in Cuba and popping. That was how one Lagos bartender watched me on YouTube and lied to his employers that he could make me. Why the lies?

    Zikoko: A certain Chef Obubu mentioned that you are made of afang leaves, toothpaste and alcohol.

    Lagos Mojito: See, if anyone wants to drink a correct Mojito, they better go abroad. I came to Lagos and my life turned upside down. First, they started to pronounce the “J” in my name, and before I knew it, I became Mojisola because they were adding orisirisi inside me. The real me has died and my spirit has left my body. I am just moonlighting as a Mojito so the funds can come in.

    Zikoko: Why didn’t you speak up all this while? Why let Lagosians consume a dead drink?

    Lagos Mojito: My interviewer, Lagos alcoholics shock me with what they consume. They don’t care if the drink is dead or alive, they just want it. How could I actually tell such a person that I am not Mojito, but Mojisola, the Yoruba speaking ghost of the actual Cuban Mojito?

    Zikoko: Can you speak Yoruba?

    Lagos Mojito: Yes. Tuale omo iya mi, ko durosoke, oluaye bambam!

    OMOGE CHOKO | BRODA SHAGGI | IYABO OJO | OFFICER WOOS - YouTube

    Zikoko: These are agbero slangs. Where did you learn them from?

    Lagos Mojito: Oh, agbo jedi sellers now market me. They make me with moringa and ogogoro, and add me to their opa eyin and ale. It’s just the ice that is missing.

    Lagos Mojito sitting pretty at the tarmac.

    Zikoko: You have lived a rough life.

    Lagos Mojito: I have. 

    [Lagos Mojito bursts into tears]

    Zikoko: It’s okay, it’s okay. The NAFDAC agents will take you with them for treatment. When they are done, they will give you a NAFDAC number.

    Lagos Mojito: Why? 

    Zikoko: That way, no Lagos restaurant will be able to make counterfeits of you. Henceforth, any Lagos restaurant whose mojito is without a NAFDAC number will be arrested.

    Lagos Mojito: [Sighs deeply] I appreciate your efforts, but I am beyond redemption now. If you want to save anyone, please save my cousin. He has suffered more than me.

    Zikoko: Who is this cousin you speak of?

    Lagos Mojito: Long Island Iced Tea. Please rescue him. 

    [Lagos Mojito draws a long breath and collapses as NAFDAC agents rush to resuscitate it.]

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    READ NEXT: Interview With Competitive Salary: “I Am Tired Of Competition”

    [donation]

  • Interview With Competitive Salary: “I Am Tired Of Competition”

    Interview With Competitive Salary: “I Am Tired Of Competition”

    Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.


    Nigerian companies always like to say they pay a competitive salary, but it never lasts till the end of the month. Today on Interview With, we sat down with Competitive Salary and asked it to tell us the problem.

    [Competitive Salary jogs in. ‘Eye of The Tiger’ starts to play from nowhere.]

    Zikoko: Uhm, hello there.

    [Competitive Salary stretches]

    Zikoko: It’s good to have you.

    [Competitive Salary drops to the floor and does 15 push-ups]

    Zikoko: Pardon me, but I think it would be best if you sat down.

    [Competitive Salary rises up and starts to squat]

    Zikoko: …

    [Competitive Salary drinks protein shake from a water bottle]

    Zikoko: Is that a protein shake? Looks like you’re trying to bulk up.

    Competitive Salary: Yes. I’ve been trying, but I’ve not bulked anything for the past eight years. Employers have told me to trust the process though, so I’m very hopeful.

    Zikoko: I see…

    [Competitive Salary dabs sweat and sits down]

    Competitive Salary: Good day, Interviewer. 

    Zikoko: Same to you, Competitive Salary. Thank you for showing up. 

    Competitive Salary: I didn’t even plan to show up, but I decided to use the opportunity for Leg Day, so I jogged all the way here.

    Zikoko: You sound like you are always training. Are you actually competing against something?

    Competitive Salary: Interviewer, what is my first name?

    Zikoko: Competi Oh…

    Competitive Salary: Exactly. Since I was born, I have been competing. I am competing now, and I will compete till I die.

    Zikoko: But who exactly are you competing against? 

    Competitive Salary: Who? I compete not against flesh and blood but against principalities, powers, the rulers of the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in high places.

    Zikoko: Only you? Okay, you have to explain now. Who are the principalities and powers?

    Competitive Salary: HR. Or is it Talent Management they call themselves these days?

    Zikoko: What about the rulers of the darkness of this world?

    Competitive Salary: CEOs.

    Zikoko: Interesting… What of spiritual wickedness in high places?

    Competitive Salary: The government and everyone in power who is responsible for inflation and unnecessarily high prices.

    Zikoko: Hm. It doesn’t seem like things are alright with you oh.

    Competitive Salary: See, things are not alright at all. I never wanted to be about this life of competition. My relatives in foreign tech companies are in USD or other sensible currencies. But I am in naira and that’s why I am in trouble today. To be in naira is to fight and struggle everyday. 

    And then, as if this isn’t enough, the HR and CEOs decided to make me competitive. They saw me fighting for my life and decided: “You know what this one needs? Competition. We will call it Competitive Salary.” That was when I knew they were the principalities and powers and rulers of the darkness of this world.

    Zikoko: Have you ever tried to speak about it?

    Competitive Salary: I don’t have to. The people who receive me are always complaining. Poor souls. They heard competitive salary and decided to apply for the job. Now, me and my owners don’t even get to see each other for more than a few seconds.

    Zikoko: I’m not getting you.

    Competitive Salary: The moment I drop like this, I’m running out of their accounts. 

    I compete against house rent, black tax, Uber, food, debit alerts — unforeseen and foreseen, and if you have a car, I compete against it too, because it’s at the end of the month that the car will start making useless noises. I always advise people to increase the sound of their radio when their car starts to do anyhow. Let Ayra Starr’s voice help you drown out the sound of your gasket blowing.

    Zikoko: That sounds like you want these people to have accident o. But tell me, if you were not a Competitive Salary, what would you rather be?

    Competitive Salary: I just want to be a salary. As in, a livable wage. All this talk of competing is too much for me. This really isn’t a good way to live. Every day, I’m up at 6am, jogging,  squatting, stretching, doing push-ups and drinking protein shakes. Before the middle of the month, the things I’m competing with have defeated me.

    Please, I’m tired. Is my creator on leave? Why always me?

    [Competitive Salary breaks down in tears]

    Zikoko: Pele. This is a lot. What advice would you give job seekers and everyone out there?

    Competitive Salary: When next you’re asking about a job’s pay and they tell you that you should not worry because the salary is competitive, tell them that you will worry o. What’s bringing competition inside remuneration? They should say how much so you can know where you’re going.

    [Competitive Salary gets a call and excuses itself to take it in the toilet]

    Competitive Salary [from the toilet]: As in they’re coming now? Wow. But it’s just the 5th. I thought I had time. Okay. Bye.

    [Competitive Salary returns]

    Competitive Salary: If you’ll excuse me, I have just been told that there are debit alerts already hunting for me. It’s not even the middle of the month, but I can smell death. This is not life.

    Zikoko: Ehya. Would you like

    [Competitive Salary jogs out]

    Check back every Friday by 9AM for new Interview With episodes. To read previous stories, click here.


    READ NEXT: Interview With Breakfast: “I Am An Important Meal”

    [donation]