Tekno: How singer's ‘Pana’ made me lose my one chance at true love and romance

This was my one chance to enjoy love, and Tekno snuffed it. Took it from me, and now I am alone. Alone, with no Angelina.

Tekno is a mad man. That’s the only name I can use to describe what he does and passes it off as music. He is a mad man that deserves to be locked up in a house, where Nigerian pop lyricists can use him as an experimental study to find out the part of the brain responsible for the creation of those ‘stupid lyrics’ that just attacks your brain, erodes all your sanity and your ‘tushness’, and leaves you bumping and celebrating the most ludicrous of lines.
Since I received the song ‘Pana’ in my email, there has just been very little I can do to get it off my head and chest. It has become a virus, eating away at my health, and multiplying with each listen. It weighs down my chest, with very little I can do to expel air from my lungs without thinking of ‘Folake give me love oh’.

How does Tekno come up with this? How has he been able to mix rudimentary pidgin lyrics and melodies to such devastating effect?
Just this morning, on my way to work, I met a special woman in the bus. I had left my home in Ajah, Lagos, for an hour-long commute using the danfo to work. The day was bright as usual, my spirts were high, and I was well-groomed, with my cocktail of perfumes announcing my presence before I even show up anywhere. After fighting through the Agberos, and locating a bus that the passengers don’t look like they all have guns and jazz (voodoo) hidden underneath their garments, I boarded the bus.
Scratch that. The only reason why I took that bus was because I had seen a pretty woman, sitting alone in the middle row. Her eyes looked like the morning sun, her skin from afar reminded me of expensive and exotic vanilla ice creams. I could feel the taste of it in my lips, cold and warm at the same time, sweet and sensual, and you know, very sensual, with it dripping from my lips and massaging my soul.

Sorry, I digress.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, and joined that bus. Sharp guy that I am. Like magic, once I got in, the bus got filled and we began the trip.
“Hello,” I offered shakily. Her presence was unnverving.
“Hi,” she said, smiling slightly.
That was all the confirmation I needed. Her smile felt like the sun had just risen, and all of Nigeria’s problems had been solved. In fact, if she had smiled more, we would achieved world peace, and ISIS would have laid down their arms and embraced love. The love of the mystery lady taketh away the war of the world.
So I went in. Her name was Angela, and she was on her way to work in Lekki. She liked Ice Cream (of course!), talked a little about music, and current affairs. At some point, I made her laugh so hard that she touched my arm, and I felt my bow-leg straighten, and all my diseases healed. Her touch is from heaven. I knew I had found true love. Love at first touch.
Just then she had a call, and stayed on it for a while. And that was the break I needed to find a new topic to discuss. I plugged in my headphones, and played the first song on my playlist. Unfortunately, it was Tekno’s ‘Pana’.
“Folake give me love oh, na you dey catch my shot oh…” the song possessed me again.
When she was done with the call, she simply gave another light touch to signal that she still had interest in my company.
I took off the headphones, and said “Folake are you done?”
And that was where everything went downhill. I had called Angela, my sweet Angela, Folake. Women don’t like being made ‘unspecial’ with something as simple as a name.
What?” she said, “How can you forget my name, we just met!”, Angela had become slightly pissed.
“Please I am sorry, it is not intentional, it is a mistake. It is Tekno’s fault.” I tried to push the blame. Another big mistake.
“You are a joker. Tekno? Is that the best you can do? What kind of guy fails to take responsibility and shifts the blame to Tekno? Tekno of all people. That’s weak man. That’s weak.”
Nothing I said worked again. Fola…sorry,…Angelina, stopped talking and simply plugged in her earphones, and began to play loud music. The little sound that escaped from the plugs, sounded a lot like a hymn ‘then sings my soul, my savior all to thee”. It was a Christian hymn, dedicated to God. She had gone back to loving Jesus Christ. Her lord and personal savior. I can’t compete with that. I can’t claim to have died for her sins. I can’t even die for my sins sef. Mtcheew.

But truly it was all Tekno’s fault. If only he didn’t start his new hit song with that title, then I could have collected her number, and began what I am sure will be my shot at true love. This was my one chance to enjoy love, and Tekno snuffed it. Took it from me, and now I am alone. Alone, with no Angelina.
The rest of the journey was weird and uncomfortable, and at Lekki we both came down. Angelina still had songs about her love for Christ playing as she walked away from me, forever. I had played myself.
Just then at that moment, I made the resolve; whenever I see Tekno again, I will beat him up. He cannot be ruining my life and still be making money. We will fight. I cannot take it!!!

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