Living

Please stop sleeping inside Bongo buses.

I repeat...

STOP SLEEPING INSIDE BONGO BUSES.

A certain lady was sleeping deeply in a bus today.

Everything was peaceful.

Passengers were minding their business.

The driver was driving.

The conductor was conducting.

Then suddenly...

The lady shouted from her dream:

"Alier, put on a condom! You will get infected!"

My brothers and sisters...

The bus became silent immediately.

Even the engine sounded confused.

Everybody turned around looking for Alier.

One old woman started praying.

A certain young man quietly adjusted his sitting position.

Meanwhile the lady was still sleeping comfortably, completely unaware that she had just exposed classified information.

The funniest part?

Nobody knew whether Alier was inside the bus or not.

But every Alier in South Sudan became suspect automatically.

Moral lesson:

If your dreams contain sensitive information, kindly stay awake during public transport.

Because dreams have destroyed many reputations.

🚶🏾‍♂️🚶🏾‍♂️🚶🏾‍♂️

✍🏾 Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏾

Hunger is not a good thing o.

And the worst part is that hunger has levels.

There is normal hunger.

There is serious hunger.

Then there is the type of hunger that starts showing you visions and making you negotiate with frozen soup.

I experienced that level some time ago.

I came back home late from work.

Tired.

Exhausted.

Starving.

As the husband material I am aspiring to become, I marched confidently into the kitchen.

Operation Rice and Soup was about to commence.

I poured water into a pot and placed it on the gas cooker.

Then I went to the freezer and brought out my precious packed soup.

The soup was frozen like it had traveled from Antarctica.

I dropped it inside water to defrost.

Everything was moving according to plan.

I even sat down proudly like a man whose future wife would one day say:

"My husband can cook."

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes passed.

The water should have been boiling by now.

I walked back to the kitchen.

The water was still cold.

Not warm.

Not lukewarm.

COLD.

My brothers and sisters...

That was when I realized I forgot to turn on the gas.

Akarach!!! 😂😂😂

The hunger had already started reducing my IQ.

I immediately turned the k**b and tried to ignite the burner.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

That's when reality slapped me.

THE GAS HAD FINISHED.

I checked the time.

Past 9 PM.

No gas station open.

No neighbor to borrow from.

No miracle in sight.

That was how the hunger upgraded from Level 3 to Level 10.

Immediately, strange things started happening.

I started seeing green.

My TV started showing black and white.

The fan was rotating but somehow I was hearing gospel music.

MT7 Degreez was singing on TV but my ears were hearing Nicky Prince.

At one point I almost greeted my refrigerator.

My body was physically present in the house, but my spirit had started looking for food elsewhere.

I sat down and started fanning myself.

The hunger was doing press-ups inside my stomach.

As man no wan die...

I made a painful decision.

I took the frozen soup.

Not fully defrosted.

Not properly melted.

Just partially surrendered.

Then I brought bread.

My brothers and sisters...

I soaked the bread inside the icy soup.

Everything cold.

Soup cold.

Bread cold.

Life cold.

I looked at it.

It looked back at me.

We both knew this wasn't right.

But survival has no pride.

I told the food:

"Don't worry. Once you enter my stomach, everybody will warm up."

And I ate it.

Like a refugee receiving humanitarian aid.

After eating that abomination, I slept off immediately.

The next morning, I woke up and saw the leftovers.

I stared at them.

They stared at me.

I pitied myself.

Honestly.

I asked myself:

"Mariano, is this what your life has become?"

I brushed my teeth.

Took my bath.

And headed straight to one food joint at Hong-Kong.

That morning, I ordered food like a man compensating himself for emotional damage.

Every spoonful felt like therapy.

Every bite felt like forgiveness.

That's when I realized something.

Hunger is not good for the soul.

It can make a reasonable person commit culinary crimes.

It can make you eat combinations that should be investigated by the police.

May God protect all of us from the type of hunger that makes frozen soup look like a five-star meal.

Amen.

✍️ Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏾

Special Get Together Party For All My PAGE Followers
All drinks and food on me
Date :- 06,06 2026
Time: - 5pm
Dress code smart casual.
Venue: - 世界上有太多的人在挨饿。
Make sure you don't miss it.

✍️ Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊.

This year, I made a solemn vow before God, my ancestors, and the bump on my forehead:

🚫 I WILL MIND MY BUSINESS.

No more peacemaking.

No more conflict resolution.

No more United Nations peacekeeping operations.

No more "Mariano please come and settle this matter."

I have retired.

Permanently.

The reason is simple.

Last year, my neighbor and his wife were having one of those legendary marital battles that make even witches stop flying to watch.

Plates were flying.

Insults were flying.

Furniture was considering relocation.

As a good Samaritan, I rushed there to restore peace.

I entered the compound with confidence.

"Please, let's be mature!"

"Violence solves nothing!"

"We are all human beings!"

Very powerful speech.

Very inspiring speech.

Very useless speech.

Because while I was busy quoting peace and unity, an object had already been launched from the enemy camp.

A frying pan.

Not ordinary frying pan.

This was a military-grade frying pan.

A frying pan personally trained by special forces.

My brothers and sisters...

The thing flew across the compound like it had GPS.

It ignored everybody.

Ignored the husband.

Ignored the children.

Ignored the goat.

Ignored the neighbors.

It came looking specifically for me.

BOOOOM!!!

Direct hit.

Center forehead.

Perfect landing.

Even airport pilots don't land with that kind of accuracy.

The next thing I remember was waking up three hours later asking why everybody was speaking so loudly.

The injury was so serious that Google Maps now recognizes the bump on my forehead as a tourist attraction.

Till today I wear face caps.

People think I'm following fashion trends.

Fashion ke?

I'm hiding evidence.

The bump is now old enough to vote.

Since that day I swore:

"Mariano, if two people are fighting, keep moving."

"Even if they are rolling on the ground."

"Even if one person is hanging from ceiling fan."

"KEEP MOVING."

Fast forward to today.

I was going to the market to Chill with my friends.

Simple mission.

Chill and come back.

No distractions.

As I was walking peacefully, I saw one beautiful lady.

My brothers and sisters...

This was not a woman.

This was an event.

Tall.

Elegant.

Chocolate-skinned.

Walking like she paid subscription for gravity reduction.

The kind of beauty that makes responsible men forget what they went to do.

Immediately I forgot my Chilling Zone.

Forgot my mother's instructions.

Forgot my account balance.

Forgot my future.

I was admiring her respectfully when suddenly...

KPAAAAAA!!!

I heard bottle break somewhere.

I turned.

Two Weet Atut boys fighting.

One was holding a bottle.

The other was holding two bottles.

The crowd was already running.

My spirit immediately shouted:

"MARIAAAANOOO! KEEP WALKING!"

My brain agreed.

My forehead agreed.

Even the bump started vibrating as warning signal.

But my foolish humanitarian heart started speaking again.

"What if somebody gets injured?"

"What if they need help?"

"What if peace must prevail?"

Satan, is that you?

Now one boy has picked a chair.

The other one has picked a crate.

The crowd is shouting.

The market women are climbing tables.

One goat has already evacuated itself from the area.

And somehow...

Somehow...

My legs are already moving towards them.

Anyway...

Let me quickly separate these people.

After this one, I will mind my business completely.

If you don't hear from me again...

Check me in the hospital.

Tell the beautiful girl in the market I was interested.

And most importantly...

Tell the doctors to leave the other side of my forehead alone.

There is no more space.

🚶🏾‍♂️🚶🏾‍♂️🚶🏾‍♂️

✍🏾 Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏾