Let's Protect Our Children

We need to protect our children. Anybody who lives in Kansanga, knows the area is littered with bar after bar that belt out music at fever pitch, have scantily damsels whose dance moves would have Pope Francis on his knees weeping and in prayer if he saw them and where the language is so foul that the ‘F’ - word is used without reservation.

Along with Doc and Nodin, we hit a bar run by an Oga from Nigeria. Oga’s, are very loud and vocal people that when we walked in, we thought a melee was brewing. There was no melee. Rather, they were boisterous and making merry for a birthday party due to take place in the establishment.

Lady Oga’s wore skimpy outfits – with bras and boobs hanging out and dresses so short that whenever they bent down, the views were not flattering.

As the evening wore on, more Oga’s filled the place. Shortly after 11:30pm – note PM and not AM, Emcee took to the floor announcing that Birthday Boy was ready to cut the cake. Seeing this was the first Oga birthday party I was about to witness, I took myself over to the corner to see if they celebrate birthday parties any different from us.

Looking at the birthday cake, I noticed it only had one candle. I didn’t think much about it until Birthday Boy stepped forward. He was not a full grown Oga draped in flowing Oga robes, nor did he wear a Goodluck Jonathan brim hat. Rather, he wore a Scooby Doo coned paper hat from Aristoc bookshop and Oga was having trouble getting him to cut the cake because he was deep in slumber.

Yes, Birthday Boy was celebrating his 1^st birthday and of all places in a beer, boobs hanging out, fever pitched music and smoke filled bar! The only other person his age was a three year-old-girl who pulled off the raunchiest dance moves that gave me palpitations and made Rihanna’s gyrations look tame.  

Oga persisted in waking up Birthday Boy who with yawns, strands of regurgitated spit oozing from his mouth and crying out for his toy car, just about managed to cut into the cake a little after midnight.

So why am I beefing? As a parent, I don’t think it was proper of Oga to have taken his kids birthday to a boozer at midnight. Whatever happened to bouncing castles, clowns, pop corn, face painting and fizzy drinks at home and during the daytime with kids his age? I thought it best to go and have a word with Oga but then stopped dead in my tracks.

A few years ago and shortly after 4:00am, we stopped off at a bar for a night cap – or one for the road as is the norm. In a corner and by a huge speaker belting out a ragamuffin song at decibels loud enough to shatter a glass, there was Baby Mama holding a baby who had barely hit six months.

I advised Manager about it – telling him babies in bars is not right. He simply gave me a ‘and you point is’ look. So I dove in and gave Baby Mama a piece of my mind.

Baby Mama was unruffled. She told her man who wasted no time jumping into my face and ripping it to shreds with all sorts of assurances from: ‘Is the baby yours’, to ‘are you the one who made her pregnant’ to ‘go home and mind your own business’.

With Oga, I did mind my own business for he had more muscles than I but still, it was improper of him to have his kid in a bar watching near naked boob flashing women.