
26/07/2025
BORROW POSE WAHALA
Episode 7 : The Screenshots Don’t Lie
Sunday morning should’ve brought peace.
But Tunji sat on his mattress staring at his screen. Over 50 shares now. Comments pouring in. Laughter. Judgement. People he didn’t know calling him “Clout King,” “Canva Catfish,” and worse.
The worst part?
Some of the screenshots were real... old designs he had posted in Facebook groups and captioned as client work. Back then, it felt harmless. Now it looked like fraud.
He threw the phone aside.
Peter called. “You okay?”
Tunji let the silence answer.
“You’re not your worst moment,” Peter said gently. “Come to church. If only to breathe.”
Tunji didn’t want to. But he couldn’t stay in that room any longer.
---
At church, people stared.
Of course they’d seen the post.
He sat at the back. Head down. Hoping the pew would swallow him.
But after service, something strange happened.
A woman approached. Her name was Aunty Kemi. She ran a small bakery.
“I saw the post,” she said bluntly.
Tunji tensed.
“I also saw your designs. I liked them. I need a new flyer. You interested?”
He looked up. Shocked.
“You don’t think I’m...
She smiled. “Young man, Lagos no easy. But talent is talent. Can you deliver?”
He nodded. “Yes. I can.”
---
That afternoon, while working on Aunty Kemi’s flyer, Uju came over with a plastic bag containing food.
“Still eating Indomie?” she teased.
Tunji laughed. “Not anymore.”
They sat and ate together. Comfortable.
Then she pulled out her phone.
“I reported the fake page. But you should make a statement.”
“Won’t that make it worse?”
“Silence is louder,” she said.
That night, Tunji typed:
“I messed up. I borrowed clothes. I overstated work. I tried to look like someone I wasn’t because I thought it made me worth more. I’m learning now that honesty builds slower… but stronger. If you’ve been there too, you’re not alone.”
He hesitated. Then hit post.
---
The next morning, his phone exploded again.
But this time, with support.
People tagged others, saying, “This! Read this!”
A few even DMed to say, “Thank you. I needed to hear this.”
He even got two small job offers.
One from a NYSC corper who wanted an event banner. Another from a woman needing a birthday e-flyer.
No big money. But something.
---
Days passed.
Work came in, bit by bit.
Then one evening, Osas called.
“Guy, na wah for you o. You still dey post like say nothing happen?”
Tunji didn’t reply.
Osas continued. “You dey craze? I dey try help you get money, you dey post confession. Guy, you fall hand!”
Tunji ended the call.
Then blocked him.
Two minutes later, a WhatsApp voice note arrived. Unknown number.
“You think blocking me ends it? You think being holy online protects you? Bros, better watch your back.”
Tunji’s fingers trembled.
He showed Peter.
Peter frowned. “He won’t stop. And you can’t fight shadow with silence. We go to the police tomorrow.”
---
The next day, they did.
Tunji submitted screenshots, call logs, and DMs.
Inspector Afolabi reviewed everything.
“This is turning criminal. You’re not the only one he’s intimidated.”
Tunji sat back. Relieved.
Real justice was slow… but it moved.
---
That night, while working on the bakery flyer, a loud knock rattled his door.
“Who’s that?”
No answer.
Another knock. Harder.
Then silence.
He peeked through the curtain.
Nothing.
Then a note slid under the door.
Scrawled in red ink:
“We know where you live. Last warning.”
Tunji’s heart pounded.
He picked up the note.
Shaking.
This wasn’t just shame anymore.
It was danger.
---
To be continued...
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