Friday, March 13, 2009

Introducing V-Monologues

V-Monologues 2009 is here.

Tickets are available and can be purchased from:
The Soul Lounge (The Palms Shopping Mall)
Domino Stores
KIND Center @ 60, Lanre Awolokun Street, Gbagada Phase 2

Book now by calling 01-8179398 or 8902970.

Please circulate among your networks.

V-Monologues...the play for women and the men that love will understand better when you watch!

Enjoy one of the monologues here:

THE AUGUST VISITOR(Delivered in a Middle Belt dialect)

VOICE: It is tradition in certain parts of our country that when a guest comes to the house, the wife or daughter of the host is given to the friend of the house to give him pleasure for the duration of the visit.

The song, ‘Kerewa’ plays

WOMAN: My husband brought home his fat friend again yesterday.

The one with the protruding stomach and beer-stained breath.

The one with the fat fat arms, who wheezes as he walks,

Clothes smoked with camphor to stay the lice that thrive on him

He looks you up and down as if measuring the worth of cattle

Papa Adele, my husband and I call him.

‘Papa Adele, Papa Adele, please don’t stay,’ the children would sing behind his back.

The household is already asleep

My husband wakes me to make food for his friend.

‘Papa Adele is important,’ he says to me.

A man who can steer the family business the right way,

who can make us hold our heads high

as we seek a path through life’s maze,

to make a better life for the children.

We need a television, my husband says to me

And a small generator for electricity

the kind they call ‘I better pass my neighbour’

Papa Adele will help us.

I make the food,

Eyes tired, hands weak,

And my husband and he,

They eat, drink and laugh

Long into the night as I return to bed.

Then my husband comes,

That dark hour before dawn

Tapping my feet where I lie,

Stinking of our local brew.

‘Wake Terlumun,’ he says to me.

‘Tell her to go to our visitor’s room

And see that he lacks nothing through the night.’

‘Our child sleeps,’ I tell him,

‘Her day was hard and she is not yet rested. She would be of little use to our friend.’

‘Then you must go, he says to me

Tonight, our friend must not lie alone.’

So, I gather myself and go out of my husband’s room,

Down the dark corridor, into our visitor’s room.

He lies on the bed, belly up in the sky,

This bleached whale like a dead, dead fish with his fat fat arms.

He winks as I come through the door

And he rolls to one side, arm under heavy-jawed chin-

Striving to look young.

And then he says to me with a leer on his face,

‘I thought the young one would come tonight.

Still, what can beat experience?’

I nod in weariness, in acceptance, as I settle by his side.

Calloused hands cup my buttocks,

Teeth eroded with cavities clamp on my breasts,

Sweat-laden armpit brushes against my face

as he comports, gathers himself,

And then weight is lowered onto me.

My husband,

Pretending sleep in the next room

Does not hear the wheezing of his friend, Papa Adele,

As he thrusts into the borrowed vagina.

It is a sign of hospitality.

A sign of our friendliness.

If you enjoyed this, then be at one of the performances, there are more!


  1. Thanks for the info. Will surely attend. I didn't miss the last one. Will surely attend. I did a review of it on my blog.

    ... it's a great thing you have this blog.

  2. cool blog. just went through the whole content and earler post. love this alot. welldone