The footsteps follow me everywhere, creep by creepy creep, all around the house. I am not afraid of them, I am resigned to the shadows hovering around me. Looking out through the window, I notice the grey light of an early dawn, there is a sadness about this morning but I refuse to address the source of this vague malaise I am experiencing. I walk sleepily into the kitchen and start a pot, for I must have my coffee. The feeling of performing everyday tasks, the routine itself is comforting, like a warm blanket in a cold room. Slowly my brain is stirring awake, coming on full blast like an express train pulling into the station, I know subconsciously what will arrive on that train, it’s the same footsteps that has been following me all around the house, all morning. There it was, I am wide awake, there is no escaping it now, everywhere I look, it stares back at me, in big black unflinching letters; MICHAEL JACKSON DEAD AT 50! How exactly am I going to spend the rest of my day?
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Life as it happens
Oct 29, 2010
Thought currently renting space in my head….
I often find myself wondering about the nature of the true relationship between Alhaji Sir Ahmadu Bello and Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa. Though both men shared much in common including fact that they both attended Katsina Teacher's Training College, were both killed on the same day, for the same reason, by the same group, they could not be more different. Politically they appeared to the every much aligned, both were “pro northern” in everything but yet entered into an alliance with the Pan African Nnamdi Azikiwe and not the more tribal centric Obafemi Awolowo. At the very least, there should have been some resentment from the “commoner” Balewa, that despite the fact that he was the prime minister he still had to answer to the blue blooded regional head, who appeared to be more interested in becoming the Emir of Sokoto than in becoming the head of the young nation.
By the time of the ‘66 coup, which funnily enough was staged by a group of a delusional nationalist group of southern soldiers, the relationship between the NCNC and NPC was virtually non-existent. One would presume that the more intellectually minded Balewa would see the writing on the wall, have known that his continued position of influence depended on the continuation of the partnership with one of the other two major parties since the regional position of authority was not up for debate. I think of the dichotomy that such a complex power sharing model such as theirs would have presented. The friction that their relationship would have created is endlessly fascinating to me, two men of near equal education with similar backgrounds in politics but distinctly contrasting social economic backgrounds trying maintain an equilibrium. The chorography in that dance must have been knife’s edge. Either, from lack of foresight or disinterest, it is almost impossible to get a sense of these two individuals as human beings, writings and historical documentations, barely hint at personalities or any other individualist traits that would have served as a clue of who they were or how they managed their day to day interactions. Reading with a magnifying glass between the lines, there is an assumption that Sir Bello was the Alpha dog of the relationship but was this through natural selection or more akin to a political ascension based on a privileged birth?
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By the time of the ‘66 coup, which funnily enough was staged by a group of a delusional nationalist group of southern soldiers, the relationship between the NCNC and NPC was virtually non-existent. One would presume that the more intellectually minded Balewa would see the writing on the wall, have known that his continued position of influence depended on the continuation of the partnership with one of the other two major parties since the regional position of authority was not up for debate. I think of the dichotomy that such a complex power sharing model such as theirs would have presented. The friction that their relationship would have created is endlessly fascinating to me, two men of near equal education with similar backgrounds in politics but distinctly contrasting social economic backgrounds trying maintain an equilibrium. The chorography in that dance must have been knife’s edge. Either, from lack of foresight or disinterest, it is almost impossible to get a sense of these two individuals as human beings, writings and historical documentations, barely hint at personalities or any other individualist traits that would have served as a clue of who they were or how they managed their day to day interactions. Reading with a magnifying glass between the lines, there is an assumption that Sir Bello was the Alpha dog of the relationship but was this through natural selection or more akin to a political ascension based on a privileged birth?
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The Mark
Walking around with my hands in my pocket. I stopped to admire my shoes. I looked around to see who was watching, not spotting anyone, I proceeded to draw attention to my Bruno Maglis’ by stumping my foot hard on the floor like I was trying to kill a an armored plated roach. I smiled to myself as if enjoying a private joke, tugged on my Evisu jeans to better display my Lacoste belt, yes I was dressed to the nines and feeling myself like you would not believe. I walked into the bar, tossed my Armani jacket on the back of the chair next to mine, loosed my Oxford old school tie and asked the bar lady for a double shot of Remy Martin Louis XIII. Heck, you only live once and I knew how to do it in style. I checked my Tag Heuer, I still had about fifteen minutes to kill before my mark got here, I thought about messing with the bar lady but she was kind of plain, so I decided that it is a bad idea. I pulled out my Blackberry, checked to see if I had a strong enough WIFI signal, and started tapping on the screen with my stylus. The Mark walks in all shifty eyed and swivel headed, he does a quick scan of the room and begins to head in my direction, this was going to be easy. A smile like the rising of the sun spreads across my face as I extend my hand and in my best Barry White baritone I introduce myself, “Prince Clairplate Nwachopchop”, I say, “glad to finally make your acquaintance in person after these months” “ I feel like we are practically friends” “What is your poison?” Remy? Scotch? He swallows hard and in a thin voice, declines my invitation. He seemed to be in a hurry to get it over with and I could not be happier. I order two more cuts of the Remy, I pulled out a wad of $100.00 bills and with great theatrical flair proceeded to overpay and over tip the bar lady, out of the corner of my eye I could see his eyes bulge at the sheer size of my stack. We retired to a secluded part of part of the bar, I quickly go over the story once again with him, explaining about the trust fund and the difficulties I was having with coming up with the full actualization and monetization fees. I reassured him once again, that with our 60/40 split he could be sitting on a beach in Ibiza, sipping on Pina coladas by this time next week. He appeared to calm down a little, he told me he had heard about all these Nigerian scam artists duping people out of their money but he could tell that a royal prince such as myself was the real deal and he felt privileged to have this opportunity. He started to go into a monologue about his family, his pregnant wife and how he had to mortgage everything to come up with the funds but I was barely listening. I smiled broadly and made sympathetic noises and I tell him that his bravery will be rewarded, “imagine the smile on the missy’s face when you come home with a string of pearls?” I say to him. I was getting impatient, I ask him if he has the bank check we had talked about, he said yes. I ask to see it, he fumbles about in his breast pocket for a second and hands me the check. I look it over, it appears to be in order, I begin folding the check and his next words had me sitting stock still, every single muscle frozen in place. With heart pounding and mind racing, I try to decide if I really heard him right, I beggg your parrrdon? I stammer, “Mr Chopchop, you are under arrest” he said, in his left hand he was holding an FBI badge.
9jia Could Be Home
Individualistic Traits & Leadership
Back in the 90’s when the super eagles had a dominant team, they were the pride of Nigeria and also the reason too many people contemplated jumping from the balcony. They were super talented but frustrating as hell, always getting knocked out in tournaments they were favored to do well in. Nobody represented this era of Nigerian football better than Austin Jay Jay (So nice, they named him twice) Okocha, super talented midfielder with exquisite skills, he had a magical touch with the ball. There was no move he could not make, no space too tight for him not to attempt an overhead flick, the more defenders you put in front of him the better he liked his chances.
At the same time if any player was going to dribble in infinite circles away from the goal line, it was him. He could boot a devastating shot into the stands, even when he has wide open teammates he could have passed to, sometimes you felt like his teammates were playing at half speed because they were tired of watching him monopolize the ball. Contrasted with Oliseh, his less talented but more efficient midfield partner, most people preferred Oliseh’s game. Oliseh was economical with his approach, he seemed to like one touch football and all that; but at the end of the day, we all came to watch Okocha play, if anybody could create magic on the pitch he was the one. It was common place to blame Okocha whenever Nigeria lost. He dribbled too much, he does not pass, he is too offensive minded and does not do enough on defense.
Which now brings me to the point of this conversation, is it his duty to tone down his game to make his teammates comfortable or should they be the ones to raise their game in order to play at his level? Last night on TNT, Chris Webber in discussing the upcoming NBA All-star Game noted that he played for good teams and bad teams. On both teams, his workout routine was the same and his effort was the same. Unfortunately, outcomes were different because on the bad teams the other people (team managers, teammates ETC) were not as good, so he did not win as much. Since C-Webb did not get to pick his teammates, he didn't think he should be penalized for this outcome? I guess what he was basically getting at was, whether he is still a winner if he does the same things a winner does but does not get the same results? You will find that this occurs more often in life than you would care to admit.
Imagine this, you are working hard, doing everything right but your company is failing, one day they layoff everybody and you hit the unemployment line through no fault of your own. While you can take solace in the fact that it is not your fault, but the fact is you are in the same position as the bum that shows up for work late and rarely achieved any of his job goals. In this example while your individual performance was stellar, your team sucked. How can you be considered a success, when your team is not doing well? In basketball more than any other sport this is a common phenomena. Back in 2005/2006 Kobe Bryant of the Lakers, was surrounded by four stiffs, he played like a maniac, even once scoring 81 points in a game. He was willing to taking on a disproportionate proportion of his team’s offensive possessions just to make sure his team had a chance, despite all this, his team did not do very well and he was called a loser, not a good leader, whatever. Now his team is winning at a ridiculous clip, he is still putting out the same effort but all of a sudden, he has matured and is now a team player but the truth is, the only real difference between then and now, is that his teammates are better.
Consider this, you work in a call center, the layabouts that are your colleagues find any excuse not to show up for work or answer the phone. They are constantly rude to customers, they don’t follow procedure and generally create a hostile work environment. Is it your place to show them how do a better job? knowing that if they fail, you all fail. Or is it enough, for you to do your very best and hope that when the end comes you can hold your head high knowing that you did all that you could? Even if in the end you all fail collectively as a group.
At the same time if any player was going to dribble in infinite circles away from the goal line, it was him. He could boot a devastating shot into the stands, even when he has wide open teammates he could have passed to, sometimes you felt like his teammates were playing at half speed because they were tired of watching him monopolize the ball. Contrasted with Oliseh, his less talented but more efficient midfield partner, most people preferred Oliseh’s game. Oliseh was economical with his approach, he seemed to like one touch football and all that; but at the end of the day, we all came to watch Okocha play, if anybody could create magic on the pitch he was the one. It was common place to blame Okocha whenever Nigeria lost. He dribbled too much, he does not pass, he is too offensive minded and does not do enough on defense.
Which now brings me to the point of this conversation, is it his duty to tone down his game to make his teammates comfortable or should they be the ones to raise their game in order to play at his level? Last night on TNT, Chris Webber in discussing the upcoming NBA All-star Game noted that he played for good teams and bad teams. On both teams, his workout routine was the same and his effort was the same. Unfortunately, outcomes were different because on the bad teams the other people (team managers, teammates ETC) were not as good, so he did not win as much. Since C-Webb did not get to pick his teammates, he didn't think he should be penalized for this outcome? I guess what he was basically getting at was, whether he is still a winner if he does the same things a winner does but does not get the same results? You will find that this occurs more often in life than you would care to admit.
Imagine this, you are working hard, doing everything right but your company is failing, one day they layoff everybody and you hit the unemployment line through no fault of your own. While you can take solace in the fact that it is not your fault, but the fact is you are in the same position as the bum that shows up for work late and rarely achieved any of his job goals. In this example while your individual performance was stellar, your team sucked. How can you be considered a success, when your team is not doing well? In basketball more than any other sport this is a common phenomena. Back in 2005/2006 Kobe Bryant of the Lakers, was surrounded by four stiffs, he played like a maniac, even once scoring 81 points in a game. He was willing to taking on a disproportionate proportion of his team’s offensive possessions just to make sure his team had a chance, despite all this, his team did not do very well and he was called a loser, not a good leader, whatever. Now his team is winning at a ridiculous clip, he is still putting out the same effort but all of a sudden, he has matured and is now a team player but the truth is, the only real difference between then and now, is that his teammates are better.
Consider this, you work in a call center, the layabouts that are your colleagues find any excuse not to show up for work or answer the phone. They are constantly rude to customers, they don’t follow procedure and generally create a hostile work environment. Is it your place to show them how do a better job? knowing that if they fail, you all fail. Or is it enough, for you to do your very best and hope that when the end comes you can hold your head high knowing that you did all that you could? Even if in the end you all fail collectively as a group.
Older Yes, But The Wisdom Is Missing.
So I am a year older; not wiser but definitely older. The year went by, the way it always goes by around here, in a blur. First I was complaining about my insurance, then I was noticing I would soon qualify for the senior citizen’s discount! I will soon be one of those old men driving 25 on a 55 and refusing to move over to the slow lane.
I already find my self complaining about the music, telling everybody that will listen that the music from my day was better. I call what they listen to now noise and tell them about the sweet harmony of Boyz to Men; these kids, they couldn’t care less.
So it came to pass that yesterday’s high fashion is today’s granny clothes but I have tried sagging my jeans and wearing torn shirts but I just end up feeling like a fool. Yes I still know all the brands and read all the mags but the clothes don’t feel right, except if they are formal or weekend gear, I am not even sure I still know how to dress for clubs. Growing up, cool youthful dressing was either Theo from “The Huxtables or Will from “The fresh prince of Bel Air”, nowadays it's "The Jonas Brothers".
How times have changed, now Will is a super duper movie star and Theo is selling Jamba Juice at 2.00 AM in infomercials on channel 3005.
It used to be that you showed up at a party; found a spot along the wall and proceeded to imagine what you could do to all the well dress women in the place. Now you show and immediately start networking, you never know when someone might be in position to be useful in the future.
I still run and play basketball or soccer or ice hockey or whatever is in season; but I notice I am the one complaining about all the calls at every game, more and more often. I was either fouled or I did not foul anyone, either way the game must stop so that I can adjust my breathing and stop that crazy pounding in my chest. I count my good weekends as any weekend I don’t have to have to attend a wedding, and look forward every Sunday to watching Andy Rooney round up 60 Minutes but if you have ever read anything I wrote, you already know all this.
I already find my self complaining about the music, telling everybody that will listen that the music from my day was better. I call what they listen to now noise and tell them about the sweet harmony of Boyz to Men; these kids, they couldn’t care less.
So it came to pass that yesterday’s high fashion is today’s granny clothes but I have tried sagging my jeans and wearing torn shirts but I just end up feeling like a fool. Yes I still know all the brands and read all the mags but the clothes don’t feel right, except if they are formal or weekend gear, I am not even sure I still know how to dress for clubs. Growing up, cool youthful dressing was either Theo from “The Huxtables or Will from “The fresh prince of Bel Air”, nowadays it's "The Jonas Brothers".
How times have changed, now Will is a super duper movie star and Theo is selling Jamba Juice at 2.00 AM in infomercials on channel 3005.
It used to be that you showed up at a party; found a spot along the wall and proceeded to imagine what you could do to all the well dress women in the place. Now you show and immediately start networking, you never know when someone might be in position to be useful in the future.
I still run and play basketball or soccer or ice hockey or whatever is in season; but I notice I am the one complaining about all the calls at every game, more and more often. I was either fouled or I did not foul anyone, either way the game must stop so that I can adjust my breathing and stop that crazy pounding in my chest. I count my good weekends as any weekend I don’t have to have to attend a wedding, and look forward every Sunday to watching Andy Rooney round up 60 Minutes but if you have ever read anything I wrote, you already know all this.
Why Blog?
My pen drips liquid pleasure, my writing is like crack cocaine to my brain. I do not enjoy everything I put down but I always get a buzz from the reaction it elicits. It is true that most true artists are interested not in the millions that idolize their work but in the hundreds that claim not to be impressed. I do not feel like an artist, I feel more like a magician, conjuring up words of such exquisite fragility that the fabric from which this intricate tapestry is woven; is at once as shred able as cotton and at the same time as strong as silk. I feel like good writing should go down smooth like Irish cream but with the alcoholic effect of a shot of Irish whiskey. I write because I am bored, and need an escape, a place where my mind is occupied with complex realities and the everyday anomalies of human existence. I write to kill the fiery devil at the center of my heart that wants me to do so much more about the everyday injustices both real and perceived that plague not just me or mine but humanity and man. I write to express a point of view, to get out an opinion, to stretch my arguments over a wider area than the guy siding in the barstool next to me at the pub, to openly state my assumptions to see if others think along the same path. But mostly, I write, because I have an audience, even if it is an audience of one, it is more than my words deserve and for that I say thank you.
You, Your Past and A New Beginning - You Can Do This.
If yesterday’s you met today’s you, would he be disappointed? The course of life would appear to be incredibly winding, is it possible that out of fatigue from the sheer grind of daily living today’s you left behind yesterday’s hopes and dreams? In the course of reaching for heaven, is it possible that you settled for a penthouse? You are still high up, but you look around and realize that a piece of you might forever never be actualized? Like bad sex, despite the fact that you appreciate that it happened, you know that it could have been so much better.
Tenacity is a trait that is remarkably in short supply, the need to follow the path of least resistance is as old as the universe itself, water flows over rocks seeking the softest corners, it curves its course by wearing them down, the same thing with human nature. Our course through life is often consumed by the present, hardly the hard past or the ambiguous future. The present represents a cumulative total of all that you have been up until now, all your mistakes, concessions, good fortune and hard work. The future is wide open you could still be whatever (yes, you can be president), the past should serve as a reservoir of dos and don’ts but in the end we use it for a dark cupboard where we hide our misdeeds, clandestine affairs, shameful experiences, failed projects, abandoned dreams and mismanaged opportunities.
People tend to haul the past around like an anchor bringing it like nuclear waste into their present, polluting everything. It sours your optimism, because your experience tells you it will not work, rather than you finding answers of what will work in the past, the past tells you to give up. The past colors your objectivity, making sure that you bring a bias into every situation regardless of its relevance. It’s strange that we carry so much of our history around with us but often do not reach into that closet to pull out encouragement for the present but rather excuses for our future. The other funny thing is that the past, the present and the future are all the same, one second ago was your past, and one second from now is your future, the decision you made a minute ago to is immediately affecting your present and invariable will have an effect in the future that will emerge from this present.
So if you were to meet the younger you, the one that ran to class with only one sock and tattered sandals, the one that dreamt of being a Nobel laureate, tell him, yes you have compromised, yes you have deviated from the path but tell him that you have seen the light and you will be back stronger and more determined than ever, that you will be a credit to him, because there is nothing that has happened that says you can’t be all that, Nelson Mandela become president at 79, you have a long way to go.
Tenacity is a trait that is remarkably in short supply, the need to follow the path of least resistance is as old as the universe itself, water flows over rocks seeking the softest corners, it curves its course by wearing them down, the same thing with human nature. Our course through life is often consumed by the present, hardly the hard past or the ambiguous future. The present represents a cumulative total of all that you have been up until now, all your mistakes, concessions, good fortune and hard work. The future is wide open you could still be whatever (yes, you can be president), the past should serve as a reservoir of dos and don’ts but in the end we use it for a dark cupboard where we hide our misdeeds, clandestine affairs, shameful experiences, failed projects, abandoned dreams and mismanaged opportunities.
People tend to haul the past around like an anchor bringing it like nuclear waste into their present, polluting everything. It sours your optimism, because your experience tells you it will not work, rather than you finding answers of what will work in the past, the past tells you to give up. The past colors your objectivity, making sure that you bring a bias into every situation regardless of its relevance. It’s strange that we carry so much of our history around with us but often do not reach into that closet to pull out encouragement for the present but rather excuses for our future. The other funny thing is that the past, the present and the future are all the same, one second ago was your past, and one second from now is your future, the decision you made a minute ago to is immediately affecting your present and invariable will have an effect in the future that will emerge from this present.
So if you were to meet the younger you, the one that ran to class with only one sock and tattered sandals, the one that dreamt of being a Nobel laureate, tell him, yes you have compromised, yes you have deviated from the path but tell him that you have seen the light and you will be back stronger and more determined than ever, that you will be a credit to him, because there is nothing that has happened that says you can’t be all that, Nelson Mandela become president at 79, you have a long way to go.
Seinfeldian Questions Without Good Answers
If someone is holding the door open for you, are you obligated to hurry up? Are they not really putting unnecessary pressure on you, trying to force you to live up to their own lofty standards? Why can't you just continue the leisurely stroll you were having before?
If you are alone in your car and happen to have your finger up your nose at the exact time another car pulls up level so that you can see the disgust look on the face of the other driver, should you apologize? Would it not be more satisfying to pull out you finger and pretend to lick it, just as you drive away?
If you are bald and were trying out a wig when a woman happens to become attracted to your lush head of hair. If you make arrangements to go on a date with her, At what point will you tell her, the hair is not yours? Why do you have to tell her anything? Why not find a good piece of glue and stick that thing unto your scalp until one of your other insecurities kills the relationship naturally.
If you buy a couple a expensive wedding present, then they cancel the wedding. Should you tracked down the party in possession of your gift and ask for the gift to be returned? if you are still owing the credit card company for the charge using in purchasing the “three speed vacuum blender with automatic washer and dryer settings” can you insist they stay married?
If you say “I love you” to your date and they do not acknowledge or indicate that they heard you the first time, should you throw out a second possibly louder “I Love You”? They genuinely could have not heard you or It could be double the humiliation as the second “I love you” just sits there between the two of you, growing in a bigger pile of sh*t by the second.
If you visit the restroom in someone’s house and find one of those pile of magazines that is always stacked in there, if you finish you business but find yourself still engrossed in the “history of the reticulated Python” can you bring the magazine back out into the living area from it's former resting place? Or can you stay in the loo indefinately until you finish your reading?
A young couple you know just had a baby, and on your visit to see the new addition to the family, the wife is like “come and carry baby Mandillas, for a bit”, apart from being very ugly, baby Mandillas has a crooked neck that makes his head lie at an odd angle and the whole thing scares the crap out of you. Can you refuse to carry the baby?
If you visit the restroom in your new date’s house and totally destroy the joint, then just as you are about to flush, you reach for toilet paper and come up empty. Do you call out for a new roll? Switch to water or dress up and run out the place claiming an emergency via a call you just received on the cell phone?
You happen been swimming and suffered significant shrinkage from the cold water, if while you are drying off, a lady you were interested in, stumbles upon you and her eyes are drawn to your severely handicapped member. Should you immediately start to explain to her unasked how you had gone skinny dipping in freezing water? Or would it be better to just move on and hope she does not tell anybody or at least nobody you might run into again?
You are alone in your car with the A/C on and you let go a big fat stinky one, just at that moment a friend that you have not seen in a long long time recognizes you and starts to knock on the window, asking you to winding down. Do you wind down and let them take a good whack in the face or pretend not to recognize them while gently putting your car in drive?
If you are alone in your car and happen to have your finger up your nose at the exact time another car pulls up level so that you can see the disgust look on the face of the other driver, should you apologize? Would it not be more satisfying to pull out you finger and pretend to lick it, just as you drive away?
If you are bald and were trying out a wig when a woman happens to become attracted to your lush head of hair. If you make arrangements to go on a date with her, At what point will you tell her, the hair is not yours? Why do you have to tell her anything? Why not find a good piece of glue and stick that thing unto your scalp until one of your other insecurities kills the relationship naturally.
If you buy a couple a expensive wedding present, then they cancel the wedding. Should you tracked down the party in possession of your gift and ask for the gift to be returned? if you are still owing the credit card company for the charge using in purchasing the “three speed vacuum blender with automatic washer and dryer settings” can you insist they stay married?
If you say “I love you” to your date and they do not acknowledge or indicate that they heard you the first time, should you throw out a second possibly louder “I Love You”? They genuinely could have not heard you or It could be double the humiliation as the second “I love you” just sits there between the two of you, growing in a bigger pile of sh*t by the second.
If you visit the restroom in someone’s house and find one of those pile of magazines that is always stacked in there, if you finish you business but find yourself still engrossed in the “history of the reticulated Python” can you bring the magazine back out into the living area from it's former resting place? Or can you stay in the loo indefinately until you finish your reading?
A young couple you know just had a baby, and on your visit to see the new addition to the family, the wife is like “come and carry baby Mandillas, for a bit”, apart from being very ugly, baby Mandillas has a crooked neck that makes his head lie at an odd angle and the whole thing scares the crap out of you. Can you refuse to carry the baby?
If you visit the restroom in your new date’s house and totally destroy the joint, then just as you are about to flush, you reach for toilet paper and come up empty. Do you call out for a new roll? Switch to water or dress up and run out the place claiming an emergency via a call you just received on the cell phone?
You happen been swimming and suffered significant shrinkage from the cold water, if while you are drying off, a lady you were interested in, stumbles upon you and her eyes are drawn to your severely handicapped member. Should you immediately start to explain to her unasked how you had gone skinny dipping in freezing water? Or would it be better to just move on and hope she does not tell anybody or at least nobody you might run into again?
You are alone in your car with the A/C on and you let go a big fat stinky one, just at that moment a friend that you have not seen in a long long time recognizes you and starts to knock on the window, asking you to winding down. Do you wind down and let them take a good whack in the face or pretend not to recognize them while gently putting your car in drive?
Tired Of The Excuses
So you would ask, after spotting these dramatically wild half sentences or phrases that seem to have been put together by Kokolet; sentences like “ .. starts to knock on the window, asking you to winding down the window” or even “ …which funnily enough was staged by a group of a delusional nationalist group of southern soldiers…” why don’t i make the necessary corrections and move on? Because it would be dishonest and the truth is that no matter what I change, I can’t make anyone that read the initial post, unread it. So after much thought I have decided to invest in a Spanish to English dictionary to brush up on my vocabulary, I will be re-enrolling in the free English for Indigenous Tribes classes at the local community college and lastly I am purchasing a typing for beginners and other slow learners software program that will teach me to type the proper way. Hopefully in a few months I will be able to complete a few lines without completely rendering the reader brain dead. In the meantime I apologize for any previous or current occurrence of random shelling you might have endured from my misguided attempt at blogging. Now that I have gotten that off my chest, i can now go back to misunder representing educated Nigerians on the internet, God help us all.
Race and Racism
Race, one word, with a deeper meaning than the Mariana Trench. It is impossible to have an honest discussion about race. Nobody ever says what they truly feel, clichés flow forth like cheap wine whenever anything racial is the topic.
Thefreedictionary.com has these two definitions for race;
1. A local geographic or global human population distinguished as a more or less distinct group by genetically transmitted physical characteristics.
2. A group of people united or classified together on the basis of common history, nationality, or geographic distribution: the German race.
The German race, funny that they would use that example. If the definitions above are accurate then race is either a commonality based on physical appearance or a cultural phenomena, the resultant effect of the geographical distribution of the human population. I think most people will agree, that it is some combination of these two definitions that produces the toxic mix which eventually leads to hate crimes.
These days the in thing is to differentiate between a racial incident and a racist act, as if the clever play on semantics would somehow lessen the gravity of the discrimination, this would be somewhat along the lines of degrees of pregnancy. You can’t be a little bit pregnant. The problem with bigotry is that it comes in so many shades and hues. The more sophisticated the community, the harder it is to spot. It is at it’s crudes form when combined with poverty, illiteracy and a sense of social inferiority. I have had some friends make the most insensitive statements about a person of a different race, not because do not mind being labeled racist, it takes a certain level of disregard for civil society to openly admit to be being a bigot. They make these statements out of ignorance, and in the mistaken belief that this is just a conversation amongst “us”, nobody was hurt by it.
There lies the problem, ignorance or not, they are being more honest than they would have ever been had the person they were referring to been with us at the time. If a “White” or “Latino” joke is funny when you are with your “Black” friends, it should be funny when your “White” friends come around as well. If African Americans or black people as a whole tend to play the race card more than others, it is not because we ourselves have somehow transcended race. A thousand years of real and perceived oppression, coupled with generational marginalization has led us to build a racial safety net as a catch all for every insult and injury (real or imagined), that we have suffered at the hand of another race. “He would not treat me this way, if I was white” is almost a manta amongst colored folk. The person could just be a “jerk” to all people, of all races.
Going back to the definition of race for a minute; it is true that the human mind will always look for a way to differentiate itself. We find newer and more ingenuous ways to reclassify ourselves everyday. Hence the reason why in some places tribal differences inspire a hatred that burns with a fire that few racists can match. As long as we continue to see “white people”, “black people”, “Africans”, “Asians”, “Southerners”, “Northerners”, “Ibos’” and “Yorubas’” instead of fathers , mothers, uncles and aunts, the world will continue to be a complicated place to live in.
Thefreedictionary.com has these two definitions for race;
1. A local geographic or global human population distinguished as a more or less distinct group by genetically transmitted physical characteristics.
2. A group of people united or classified together on the basis of common history, nationality, or geographic distribution: the German race.
The German race, funny that they would use that example. If the definitions above are accurate then race is either a commonality based on physical appearance or a cultural phenomena, the resultant effect of the geographical distribution of the human population. I think most people will agree, that it is some combination of these two definitions that produces the toxic mix which eventually leads to hate crimes.
These days the in thing is to differentiate between a racial incident and a racist act, as if the clever play on semantics would somehow lessen the gravity of the discrimination, this would be somewhat along the lines of degrees of pregnancy. You can’t be a little bit pregnant. The problem with bigotry is that it comes in so many shades and hues. The more sophisticated the community, the harder it is to spot. It is at it’s crudes form when combined with poverty, illiteracy and a sense of social inferiority. I have had some friends make the most insensitive statements about a person of a different race, not because do not mind being labeled racist, it takes a certain level of disregard for civil society to openly admit to be being a bigot. They make these statements out of ignorance, and in the mistaken belief that this is just a conversation amongst “us”, nobody was hurt by it.
There lies the problem, ignorance or not, they are being more honest than they would have ever been had the person they were referring to been with us at the time. If a “White” or “Latino” joke is funny when you are with your “Black” friends, it should be funny when your “White” friends come around as well. If African Americans or black people as a whole tend to play the race card more than others, it is not because we ourselves have somehow transcended race. A thousand years of real and perceived oppression, coupled with generational marginalization has led us to build a racial safety net as a catch all for every insult and injury (real or imagined), that we have suffered at the hand of another race. “He would not treat me this way, if I was white” is almost a manta amongst colored folk. The person could just be a “jerk” to all people, of all races.
Going back to the definition of race for a minute; it is true that the human mind will always look for a way to differentiate itself. We find newer and more ingenuous ways to reclassify ourselves everyday. Hence the reason why in some places tribal differences inspire a hatred that burns with a fire that few racists can match. As long as we continue to see “white people”, “black people”, “Africans”, “Asians”, “Southerners”, “Northerners”, “Ibos’” and “Yorubas’” instead of fathers , mothers, uncles and aunts, the world will continue to be a complicated place to live in.
Deep Pools of Black on the South Side of Chicago
I am going to tell you a story, a sad story.
A story of unimaginable misery and a very forlorn story.
This story will leave you in tears.
Iit will leave you angry.
It will leave you with despair in your heart and a gaping hole in your soul.
This is a story about confused youth and gang cultures.
The story of missing dadas' and preoccupied mammies.
It is a story driven by poverty and social marginalization.
A story about the institutionally disenfranchised.
A story about the boy who walked on the wrong side of street.
This is a story about anywhere USA.
A place where the child is raised by the streets.
A place where only one rule matters.
The rule that helps you survive the silence of the city night.
A place where your cry for help will be met by blank stares.
A place where deep and hollow eyes look straight through you.
A place scarred by the viciousness of lives counted in minutes.
Your heart will be broken, again and again.
You will hear of promises being thrown away.
Tales of futures damaged beyond repair.
Tales of men dealing with the repercussions of decisions made as a child.
You will resign yourself to the hopelessness of the times.
You will tell yourself it is the sad savage underbelly of “living in the City”.
The “City” a jungle of a place where boys grow up fast and girls even faster.
A place driven by the one true creed, “I gats to get wats mines”.
I was going to tell you this story.
But you have already heard it, so many times before.
Now the whole thing just washes over you.
Even though you are soaked in it.
You barely stop to reflect on the brutally and stupidity of it all anymore.
This is the sad story of black on black violence.
A story of unimaginable misery and a very forlorn story.
This story will leave you in tears.
Iit will leave you angry.
It will leave you with despair in your heart and a gaping hole in your soul.
This is a story about confused youth and gang cultures.
The story of missing dadas' and preoccupied mammies.
It is a story driven by poverty and social marginalization.
A story about the institutionally disenfranchised.
A story about the boy who walked on the wrong side of street.
This is a story about anywhere USA.
A place where the child is raised by the streets.
A place where only one rule matters.
The rule that helps you survive the silence of the city night.
A place where your cry for help will be met by blank stares.
A place where deep and hollow eyes look straight through you.
A place scarred by the viciousness of lives counted in minutes.
Your heart will be broken, again and again.
You will hear of promises being thrown away.
Tales of futures damaged beyond repair.
Tales of men dealing with the repercussions of decisions made as a child.
You will resign yourself to the hopelessness of the times.
You will tell yourself it is the sad savage underbelly of “living in the City”.
The “City” a jungle of a place where boys grow up fast and girls even faster.
A place driven by the one true creed, “I gats to get wats mines”.
I was going to tell you this story.
But you have already heard it, so many times before.
Now the whole thing just washes over you.
Even though you are soaked in it.
You barely stop to reflect on the brutally and stupidity of it all anymore.
This is the sad story of black on black violence.
Things That We Say
“A very large conflagration has overtaken your domicile”. This would be a Nigerian telling you that your house is on fire. The statement itself is technically correct but tactically useless, both in it’s execution and it’s purpose. There is something very Nigerian in a cultural sense in that statement. There are so many elements of our political psychic embedded in that one line. We are people who engineer complex solutions to simple problems, the resulting waste of effort, resources and time is hardly ever consequential, it is merely a necessary by product of the problem reaching it’s natural conclusion. While the situation may or may not have been rectified, what is most important is that it is seen that work has been put into it and that lot of effort was expanded in doing that work, even if at the end of the day, much of that work was an unnecessary waste. I was struck by just how much that statement; a standing joke from my college days, just about describes a typical Nigerian politician.
The statement (“a very large conflagration has overtaken your domicile”) is representative of us in many ways. The first of which is that it calls attention to the speaker rather than the fire. Making glorified statements and long winded speeches designed to impress is as Nigerian as ‘eba or ‘ewedu. The purported intelligence of the speaker, is almost always judged by their ability to mix in rarely referenced grammatical idioms and intellectual sounding Latin phases that the intended audience has little understanding of. The ability to apply “isms” (for example colloquialism) to the end of words has long been held as a sign of good education and advanced learning. I will cop to falling into this trap sometimes and using lengthy words were simpler once would have sufficed. The message, a relevant and urgent alarm is lost in the quiet nodding and embarrassed smiles of the listening audience as they quietly tell each other “there goes an educated man”. For example this was part of Hon. Patrick Obahiagbon's tribute to Chief Gani Fawehinmi upon his passing. “Chief Gani was simply inimitable, puritanically committed, inscrutably remonstrative, ideologically transcendental and quixotically cosmopolitan. His transition is not just the fall of an Iroko but indeed the grand initiation of an Iconic legal salamander!!! “Gani inured himself in the aqua of self abnegation and immolation just to give justice to the down trodden”. He went further to say that “the news brought him emotional laceration and threw him into a state of utter catalepsy.” I am not sure what all that means, but he really must miss Mr. Fawehinmi very much.
The second point is that it manages to magnify the importance of the situation without providing any real urge spurring the listener to action. This is a designed state of inertia, rather than an accidently one. A motivated populace demands action or will take action itself, but an impressed one, is stuck admiring the beauty of the spectacle. Politicians are adapt to make statements that in their totality sound convincing and strong but do nothing to galvanize the population towards any kind of problem solving. The aim here is to continue to milk the situation, while appearing to care but really just posturing for the fame, publicity and of course the money that comes with political office. The confused listener shrugs and continues about their business, to the neutral outsider observing from the side with a full understanding of the situation, this could be interpreted as a like of lack of civic pride or a complete disregard for the plight of another but really the case here is the passing of misinformation from the speaker to the listener. In a country with such a large illiteracy rate, people assume that the purpose of the speech was to impress, they accept it for what it is and move on. Invariably it is just another opportunity to advance the state of the country lost in a cloud of big words.
Which naturally would lead to the question, so was there really any intent to notify anyone of the fire? Like all things that we do, it is complicated. The fire while an unfortunate event was an opportunity, a chance to flaunt credentials, if at the end of the day the fire is somehow put out, all the better. We live in a society that values style over function, it is not an accident that is the “Babariga” is our official native office wear. Seriously with our weather how did a heavy blanket of a garment designed to look good rather than feel good, end up the dominant wear for official business? We as a nation play to the gallery all the time, understanding the sweeping nature of that statement, I will go on record with this summary. This writing is a is a generalization that paints with a broad brush, but nonetheless describes a commonality that defines our everyday values enough for it to be almost always true. I know, I know, I accept the position of kettle, in this black calling contest.
The statement (“a very large conflagration has overtaken your domicile”) is representative of us in many ways. The first of which is that it calls attention to the speaker rather than the fire. Making glorified statements and long winded speeches designed to impress is as Nigerian as ‘eba or ‘ewedu. The purported intelligence of the speaker, is almost always judged by their ability to mix in rarely referenced grammatical idioms and intellectual sounding Latin phases that the intended audience has little understanding of. The ability to apply “isms” (for example colloquialism) to the end of words has long been held as a sign of good education and advanced learning. I will cop to falling into this trap sometimes and using lengthy words were simpler once would have sufficed. The message, a relevant and urgent alarm is lost in the quiet nodding and embarrassed smiles of the listening audience as they quietly tell each other “there goes an educated man”. For example this was part of Hon. Patrick Obahiagbon's tribute to Chief Gani Fawehinmi upon his passing. “Chief Gani was simply inimitable, puritanically committed, inscrutably remonstrative, ideologically transcendental and quixotically cosmopolitan. His transition is not just the fall of an Iroko but indeed the grand initiation of an Iconic legal salamander!!! “Gani inured himself in the aqua of self abnegation and immolation just to give justice to the down trodden”. He went further to say that “the news brought him emotional laceration and threw him into a state of utter catalepsy.” I am not sure what all that means, but he really must miss Mr. Fawehinmi very much.
The second point is that it manages to magnify the importance of the situation without providing any real urge spurring the listener to action. This is a designed state of inertia, rather than an accidently one. A motivated populace demands action or will take action itself, but an impressed one, is stuck admiring the beauty of the spectacle. Politicians are adapt to make statements that in their totality sound convincing and strong but do nothing to galvanize the population towards any kind of problem solving. The aim here is to continue to milk the situation, while appearing to care but really just posturing for the fame, publicity and of course the money that comes with political office. The confused listener shrugs and continues about their business, to the neutral outsider observing from the side with a full understanding of the situation, this could be interpreted as a like of lack of civic pride or a complete disregard for the plight of another but really the case here is the passing of misinformation from the speaker to the listener. In a country with such a large illiteracy rate, people assume that the purpose of the speech was to impress, they accept it for what it is and move on. Invariably it is just another opportunity to advance the state of the country lost in a cloud of big words.
Which naturally would lead to the question, so was there really any intent to notify anyone of the fire? Like all things that we do, it is complicated. The fire while an unfortunate event was an opportunity, a chance to flaunt credentials, if at the end of the day the fire is somehow put out, all the better. We live in a society that values style over function, it is not an accident that is the “Babariga” is our official native office wear. Seriously with our weather how did a heavy blanket of a garment designed to look good rather than feel good, end up the dominant wear for official business? We as a nation play to the gallery all the time, understanding the sweeping nature of that statement, I will go on record with this summary. This writing is a is a generalization that paints with a broad brush, but nonetheless describes a commonality that defines our everyday values enough for it to be almost always true. I know, I know, I accept the position of kettle, in this black calling contest.
Haiti
What is one supposed to make of these pictures of broken bodies and wretched space? Sometimes carnage of this scale is hard to grasp. The immediacy of the suffering and pain is diluted by distance and the lens of a camera. I feel helpless, paralyze be the sheer scale of the devastation. The sad look in the face of the children juxtaposed besides the forlorn stare of the adults. All the pictures show bodies, bodies everywhere, under cars, buildings, all kinds of boulders, everybody is wearing a coat of white dust. Catastrophic events always serve to demonstrate the smallness of man in the universe of things; they serve to show the uselessness of our everyday pursuits in the face of true events of global proportions. The dead lie there, with their dreams intact, progress broken forever by the harsh faith of the unlucky, but in times like this you are best served by saving your tears and prayers for the living. They must continue to try and make sense of the hopelessness around them, they must continue the journey, they must pick up the completely shattered threads of their former lives and go on living. The hundreds of millions of dollars you are sending will hopefully buy clothes and provisions but it I will not bring back friends and families, these lives are forever scarred, changed forever in mere minutes. Say a prayer for the dead, but spare a coin for the living. Last week those bodies on the floor had plans and today…….
I know what you are thinking.
I have problem, I want to be liked. And I am not sure that is necessarily a standard for success. In my experience the most success people I know have a bit of a bastard in them. They don’t really care what you think and mostly appear to listen to you just to confirm their own opinions. The dilemma here is that if you go too far then people just hate you, if you are unfortunate enough to not have the personal charisma to overcome the douche in you, God help you. I have taken withering criticism from people for things that I did not do, not because I could not perform but because I failed to inform them at the start I did not want to be apart of the arrangement. You don’t want to hurt people’s feelings, you tell them what you believe they want to hear but in the end, you don’t win, do you? I find myself laughing at a joke i did not really understand and nodding in agreement to a mumbled or incoherent statement, if the reaction is in anyway inappropriate, the other party walks away thinking I am are either an idiot or worse, a Jerk. Now, you would say “grow a pair” or something equally as silly, but that is not the problem. I can be an asshole without the slightest bit of regret or worry about your feelings or even the predisposition to try and understand why you are upset. It is just that unlike a natural asshole, I do not find that it is my first instinct to tell you to "fuckoff"! even if that is how I am feeling at that particular time. I find that, the more successful the individual, the more they are (for lack of a better word) very pragmatic in their view of things, this pragmatism is built with a hard edge, built with a tilt towards only doing things as long as it does not require them to make too much of a departure from their regular way of life. I know, at a certain age things are supposed to be what they are and decisions are decisions irrespective of whose ox is gored, that does not mean that it comes more naturally if your first inclination is to try and not hurt anyone’s feelings. I feel like in the end I do end up hurting everyone’s feelings, especially mine. When I nod in agreement without hearing what you said or tell you I will attend you function knowing fully well I will not be there or tell you it is a good idea when I think you are crazy, what do I get out of it? Nothing really, if I want to be honest with myself. You won’t think I am a nice guy when I don’t show up or you finally figure out that scheduling a $1000.00 monthly car note on a $1500.00 monthly pay check is a bad idea. The problem is that I have a hard time being that guy, the guy with the impossible standards, I am not hard to please, at all. I don’t care if you are not the symbol of hard work and diligence, I can do my share and yours without thinking about it. But by doing that, did I help or hurt you? If I held you up to the same standard as I would hold myself, would you be better off? Or am I imposing my own values on you without prior consent? Today’s uncompromising realist could be tomorrow’s inflexible bastard. I guess depending on who you are talking to, you could be both at the same time, but still the problem persists, I want to be liked.
Comments By Choice
BBC Africa-- “The authorities in Nigeria say as many as 15,000 oil militants active in the Niger Delta surrendered under the two-month amnesty which expired on Sunday. The official in charge of the scheme said 5,000 weapons and 18 gunboats had also been handed in by the militants.”
– 5K weapons, 15K militants, hmm…something is smelly a little like fish here. What kind of self respecting militant does not have a weapon? So how were they terrorizing people, by jumping out of the bush naked?
BBC Africa-- “A container full of arms and ammunition has been seized by Nigerian customs officers in Lagos harbour. One person has been arrested and officials are searching for the owner of the arms” – Did the person that was arrested came attached to the container? And how does advertising the seizure help them catch the owner?
BBC Africa- – “Nigeria's top economic body, the National Economic Council, has approved a government decision to spend $2bn (£1.25bn) from its oil windfall fund. But there is criticism over how it plans to spend the money. Economic stimulus packages in other countries have targeted infrastructure projects, job creation, and tax cuts for small businesses. Nigeria's government says it will spend half the cash on clearing the debts of federal government contractors.” – Ladies and gentlemen, the more you look, the less you see, please observe carefully as we attempt to make this money disappear.
Businessdayonline – “Demand for foreign exchange is plummeting at the Wholesale Dutch Auction System (WDAS), sending alarm signals on further depression in the economy. When $100 million was offered at WDAS by the Central Bank of Nigerian (CBN) on Monday, October 5, 2009, only $15.32 million was sold, representing a short fall of 84.68 percent. Experts say the situation is a direct fall out of near complete freezing of credit by banks to corporate organisations and individuals in the last few months. Before the credit crunch hit the financial system, the amount of foreign exchange sold was usually higher than what the apex bank offered. For instance, on August 8 2009, the CBN offered $200 million, but ended up selling $357.75 million.” – Oh boy if na joke make una stop am o! wetin be sey I no fit borrow money from bank take buy money from the same bank? But seriously how is it possible to sell more money than you have?
The Times Of Nigeria- – “The Senate Thursday reacted to allegations that it was attempting to cover up the role played by some chieftains of the PDP in a =N=300 billion road contract by instructing the Senate Committee on Ethics, Code of Conduct and Public Petitions to investigate the allegations.” – This is how you know this is big time. When a committee is set up to investigate the fact, that the previous committee is trying to cover the actions of (probably) another committee. This looks like a closed case to me.
The Financial Standard- - "Average loss on the Nigerian stock market stood at about 30 per cent in the third quarter, equivalent to a loss of about N2 trillion by investors within the nine-month period. Against the background of full-year return of -45.77 per cent in 2008, the third quarter performance indicates that the value of an average investment made since 2008 has nearly been fully eroded by the recession.” – Omo, clear road for jaga jaga. When Iroko tree wan fall, e no dey ask floor wether e don ready.
The PM News- - "The global economic crisis is taking its toll on most Nigerian airlines with the revelation that passenger traffic on domestic and regional routes has dropped by about 40 percent, causing huge losses of revenue to the indebted airlines. P.M.News gathered that some Nigerian airlines are unable to pay the salaries of their staff including pilots and engineers who are key to the safety of the aircraft. The Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority (NCAA) last month set up a committee to investigate the allegations but has not come out with the findings. “We will make it public. Those who are paying and those not paying,” Dr. Harold Demuren, NCAA boss told journalists.But Demuren has been accused of applying double standards in dealing with erring airlines. For instance, he has been accused of looking the other way each time, Bellview, an airline on the brink of collapse, is concerned.Recently, about two hundred passengers of Bellview airlines travelling to London were stranded at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Ikeja, Lagos, for several days, Demuren did not intervene until some properties at MMIA were damaged by the angry passengers." – The power God will not let an unpaid pilot fly you anywhere in Jesus name, Amen, nor let an angry airline mechanic service your plane.
– 5K weapons, 15K militants, hmm…something is smelly a little like fish here. What kind of self respecting militant does not have a weapon? So how were they terrorizing people, by jumping out of the bush naked?
BBC Africa-- “A container full of arms and ammunition has been seized by Nigerian customs officers in Lagos harbour. One person has been arrested and officials are searching for the owner of the arms” – Did the person that was arrested came attached to the container? And how does advertising the seizure help them catch the owner?
BBC Africa- – “Nigeria's top economic body, the National Economic Council, has approved a government decision to spend $2bn (£1.25bn) from its oil windfall fund. But there is criticism over how it plans to spend the money. Economic stimulus packages in other countries have targeted infrastructure projects, job creation, and tax cuts for small businesses. Nigeria's government says it will spend half the cash on clearing the debts of federal government contractors.” – Ladies and gentlemen, the more you look, the less you see, please observe carefully as we attempt to make this money disappear.
Businessdayonline – “Demand for foreign exchange is plummeting at the Wholesale Dutch Auction System (WDAS), sending alarm signals on further depression in the economy. When $100 million was offered at WDAS by the Central Bank of Nigerian (CBN) on Monday, October 5, 2009, only $15.32 million was sold, representing a short fall of 84.68 percent. Experts say the situation is a direct fall out of near complete freezing of credit by banks to corporate organisations and individuals in the last few months. Before the credit crunch hit the financial system, the amount of foreign exchange sold was usually higher than what the apex bank offered. For instance, on August 8 2009, the CBN offered $200 million, but ended up selling $357.75 million.” – Oh boy if na joke make una stop am o! wetin be sey I no fit borrow money from bank take buy money from the same bank? But seriously how is it possible to sell more money than you have?
The Times Of Nigeria- – “The Senate Thursday reacted to allegations that it was attempting to cover up the role played by some chieftains of the PDP in a =N=300 billion road contract by instructing the Senate Committee on Ethics, Code of Conduct and Public Petitions to investigate the allegations.” – This is how you know this is big time. When a committee is set up to investigate the fact, that the previous committee is trying to cover the actions of (probably) another committee. This looks like a closed case to me.
The Financial Standard- - "Average loss on the Nigerian stock market stood at about 30 per cent in the third quarter, equivalent to a loss of about N2 trillion by investors within the nine-month period. Against the background of full-year return of -45.77 per cent in 2008, the third quarter performance indicates that the value of an average investment made since 2008 has nearly been fully eroded by the recession.” – Omo, clear road for jaga jaga. When Iroko tree wan fall, e no dey ask floor wether e don ready.
The PM News- - "The global economic crisis is taking its toll on most Nigerian airlines with the revelation that passenger traffic on domestic and regional routes has dropped by about 40 percent, causing huge losses of revenue to the indebted airlines. P.M.News gathered that some Nigerian airlines are unable to pay the salaries of their staff including pilots and engineers who are key to the safety of the aircraft. The Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority (NCAA) last month set up a committee to investigate the allegations but has not come out with the findings. “We will make it public. Those who are paying and those not paying,” Dr. Harold Demuren, NCAA boss told journalists.But Demuren has been accused of applying double standards in dealing with erring airlines. For instance, he has been accused of looking the other way each time, Bellview, an airline on the brink of collapse, is concerned.Recently, about two hundred passengers of Bellview airlines travelling to London were stranded at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Ikeja, Lagos, for several days, Demuren did not intervene until some properties at MMIA were damaged by the angry passengers." – The power God will not let an unpaid pilot fly you anywhere in Jesus name, Amen, nor let an angry airline mechanic service your plane.
The Living Dead
Your primary goal when you get up in the morning, is to make it through the day. There are various obstacles in the way, like your blanket and the softness of the pillow. Everybody starts the day with a full bottle of “get up and go”. For some people, theirs’ empty like an hourglass and they are ready to pack it in by lunch time. Other people are like finely tuned Hondas, efficiently sipping energy all day long. Normally, you game plan your day. Sometimes your plan is akin to a soccer formation, deploying a 4-4-2 which covers lots of activity in the morning and afternoon, or if your aim is to pack the midfield, you go 4-5-1. Other days, you use basketball for your game planning, deciding on whether it would be better to play the pick and roll with your chores or maybe run the triangle on offense and match up zone on your boss. Most people’s typical day normally moves with military precision, 5.00 AM the alarm goes off, 5.01 AM turn it off, 5.03 AM back to sleep, 8.39 AM jump out of the bed.
8.51 AM, you are experiencing your first incidence of road rage for the day. Now, road rage is like morning coffee, it wakes you up, as you curse and threaten everybody else on the road while driving like a lunatic, your blood is flowing and the adrenaline is pumping through your system, this is the high point of your day. You see flashing lights in your rearview mirror, yes that’s right, you are getting pulled over, again. All the anger disappears from you in flash, you are contrite and full of humility, the transformation from King Kong to house monkey is nothing short of miraculous. The officer walks up to your window;
Officer :– Do you know why I pulled you over?
You : – (in a very small voice) – No officer.
Officer : - You were driving erratically and cut that other driver off.
You : – Officer, I apologize, only this morning discovered I have cataracts and I did not see him. I plan to have surgery this afternoon, it will not happen again.
Of course the officer gives you a ticket, as you drive away observing every single traffic ordinance known to man, you feel sad and lonely. It is only 9.15 AM and already you owe the state $265.00 plus court costs, life sucks.
You enter the office at 9.35 AM and of course your boss does not want to hear it, the meeting started thirty five minutes ago and your sorry ass was not only late but unprepared. You em.., em.., your way through a ragged presentation, sit down to the quiet confusion of your coworkers in the room. Your shoulders slump, you are hoping you still have a job by lunch time. Two hours later you are ready for lunch, finally a break, something you can look forward to and enjoy, food.
The line at the lunch counter is seven deep, you push your way to the front, the harassed lady with the wild hair in front is yelling something into the microphone, your mind wonders as you contemplate the menu and after a while you notice she has been staring at you for a while;
Lady (testily) : May I take you order, PLEASE?
You: Can I have the No. 8 with no cheese, no lettuce, no mayo? And no onions.
Lady: SIR’ do you want a drink and fries with that?
You: Can I have a large fry and a medium diet coke?
Lady: That will be $9.00.
You: WHAT? $9….you start to protest but you snatch a quick look at the impatient line of hungry people behind you and quickly change you mind. As you reach for your wallet. you make the sickening discovery, you don’t have your wallet on you! You must have left in the car!
Lady (takes one look at you as you pat yourself down hastily, and hisses): NEXT!
You stumble back into the office, hungry and embarrassed. It’s only 1.00 O’clock and your tank is almost empty. But like a good hybrid you switch to your back up energy source and begin to down large cups of free office coffee. By 3.00 PM you are twitching like a crack addict experiencing withdrawal, now you are just basically clock watching. God, why is time moving so slowly today?
Finally 4.52 PM, you snatch your coat, turn off the system and head for the door. Just as you are leaving, your boss is coming in, he looks at his watch, and instinctively you look at yours as well, the time is 4.57 PM. His face tightens, but he says nothing, you fall into the elevator in a daze cursing your crummy luck.
You get to the garage, jump into your car, put the key in the ignition, turn it and nothing, not even a tickle. Confused you turn on the interior lights in the car, they give off a faded dim burnt bronze glow. You put your head down on the steering wheel, you know what the problem is, in your haste to get to work this morning, you had left your headlights on, now your batteries are completely drained. Time is 5.16 PM.
8.09 PM, you walk through your door and flop on the couch (it’s wasn’t easy getting a jump in a town where hardly anyone carries jumper cables around). But you are home now, last night’s leftover Pizza is quickly wolfed down. The first beer hits your stomach barely touching your throat. The second one quickly meets the same faith. Now an alcohol induced haze is beginning to come over you, you move to the bedroom from the couch, you have made it through today, you survived the day. As you drift off to sleep, you contemplate your life as a modern day work zombie, you mentally steel yourself for the next day’s coming battle.
Time is 10.42 PM.
8.51 AM, you are experiencing your first incidence of road rage for the day. Now, road rage is like morning coffee, it wakes you up, as you curse and threaten everybody else on the road while driving like a lunatic, your blood is flowing and the adrenaline is pumping through your system, this is the high point of your day. You see flashing lights in your rearview mirror, yes that’s right, you are getting pulled over, again. All the anger disappears from you in flash, you are contrite and full of humility, the transformation from King Kong to house monkey is nothing short of miraculous. The officer walks up to your window;
Officer :– Do you know why I pulled you over?
You : – (in a very small voice) – No officer.
Officer : - You were driving erratically and cut that other driver off.
You : – Officer, I apologize, only this morning discovered I have cataracts and I did not see him. I plan to have surgery this afternoon, it will not happen again.
Of course the officer gives you a ticket, as you drive away observing every single traffic ordinance known to man, you feel sad and lonely. It is only 9.15 AM and already you owe the state $265.00 plus court costs, life sucks.
You enter the office at 9.35 AM and of course your boss does not want to hear it, the meeting started thirty five minutes ago and your sorry ass was not only late but unprepared. You em.., em.., your way through a ragged presentation, sit down to the quiet confusion of your coworkers in the room. Your shoulders slump, you are hoping you still have a job by lunch time. Two hours later you are ready for lunch, finally a break, something you can look forward to and enjoy, food.
The line at the lunch counter is seven deep, you push your way to the front, the harassed lady with the wild hair in front is yelling something into the microphone, your mind wonders as you contemplate the menu and after a while you notice she has been staring at you for a while;
Lady (testily) : May I take you order, PLEASE?
You: Can I have the No. 8 with no cheese, no lettuce, no mayo? And no onions.
Lady: SIR’ do you want a drink and fries with that?
You: Can I have a large fry and a medium diet coke?
Lady: That will be $9.00.
You: WHAT? $9….you start to protest but you snatch a quick look at the impatient line of hungry people behind you and quickly change you mind. As you reach for your wallet. you make the sickening discovery, you don’t have your wallet on you! You must have left in the car!
Lady (takes one look at you as you pat yourself down hastily, and hisses): NEXT!
You stumble back into the office, hungry and embarrassed. It’s only 1.00 O’clock and your tank is almost empty. But like a good hybrid you switch to your back up energy source and begin to down large cups of free office coffee. By 3.00 PM you are twitching like a crack addict experiencing withdrawal, now you are just basically clock watching. God, why is time moving so slowly today?
Finally 4.52 PM, you snatch your coat, turn off the system and head for the door. Just as you are leaving, your boss is coming in, he looks at his watch, and instinctively you look at yours as well, the time is 4.57 PM. His face tightens, but he says nothing, you fall into the elevator in a daze cursing your crummy luck.
You get to the garage, jump into your car, put the key in the ignition, turn it and nothing, not even a tickle. Confused you turn on the interior lights in the car, they give off a faded dim burnt bronze glow. You put your head down on the steering wheel, you know what the problem is, in your haste to get to work this morning, you had left your headlights on, now your batteries are completely drained. Time is 5.16 PM.
8.09 PM, you walk through your door and flop on the couch (it’s wasn’t easy getting a jump in a town where hardly anyone carries jumper cables around). But you are home now, last night’s leftover Pizza is quickly wolfed down. The first beer hits your stomach barely touching your throat. The second one quickly meets the same faith. Now an alcohol induced haze is beginning to come over you, you move to the bedroom from the couch, you have made it through today, you survived the day. As you drift off to sleep, you contemplate your life as a modern day work zombie, you mentally steel yourself for the next day’s coming battle.
Time is 10.42 PM.
Disgruntled.
God; it feels like I am sitting in Tonia’s barbecue pit, the heat from the engine is roasting me and my rapidly rising anger is in symmetry with it. I feel a symbiotic bond with the misery all around me, this train is too hot, and this jacket is so God DAMNED HEAVY! I…., I need to calm down…but it is so heavy. Gone are the days when I recoiled from the pain or flinched before the wretched hordes. They can push me around all they want, my days are numbered and the sense of invincibility I feel comes from the certainty of my plight. One eye closed, I try to concentrate on the details of my plan, I feel some perverse sense of pleasure in anticipation of the suffering I am about to unleash. The world had never been kind to me and now finally, somebody will bear the brunt of all the days I had cried myself to sleep. My meaningless,… desolate existence, will be remembered for at least one thing. I will put an end to this continuously endless dissolution of society, corrupt corporations, run by corrupt Neanderthals. They held my head down, yes they did, they never gave me a chance, they ground my ambitions and dreams into dust …….It never much mattered to them how I felt, it was always, take, take, take…… Why is the guard staring at me, does he know? Oh God, I hope that nothing is showing…. Not here, not out in the lobby, I will never make it upstairs, if I have to start here. Phew, he looked away, for a second there I almost……I have to admit these elevators are fast, how fast did the very first elevator go, I wonder? Strange, why am I so calm, my hands are almost perfectly still if not for that slight tremor…. Deep breathe, ohhhh, ahhhh, ohhhh, ahhhhh, breathe in, out, check the twelve gauge, tuck the 45 into my pant front. As I bust through the door, Mrs. Smith jumps back startled, then she recognizes me, I see the familiar disdain begin to settle back into her face, then she sees the gun, her eyes start to widen again. The beginnings of a wicked grin starts to form at the corners of my mouth as I bring the gun level, dead center ………..<
Terror as a weapon of teenage rebellion
I look into the eyes of this kid, this terrorist and I see myself, I see my brother, I see a kid. I try not to ask myself what I would see if he had been successful in his quest, I try to shield my mind from the ugliness of his intentions, from the misery his plans would have brought home to hundreds of people, hundred of innocent people mind you, this festive season. I find it hard to look at his picture on TV, I find myself changing the channel whenever he is story is on the tele, I am not sure why. It definitely is not out of sympathy for his cause, ideology or politics, I don’t know why or how he came about his convictions or why he was on that plane trying to trying to end his life and take others with him. My problem is that I just see a regular kid, a boy from privilege that somehow confused religion with politics. Nigerians might be a lot of things, but we are generally by definition not into terror, or terrorism or martyrdom or any of that ultra religious nonsense. Please do not take this to mean that we do not have overzealous zealots (the redundancy is deliberate) whose main goal in life is the hope of delivering “the unwashed” into the arms of the Lord or God by any name. It’s just that we mostly restrict our blood letting to murdering each other over tribal differences masquerading as religious riots. Nigerians love life, despite the wretchedness of our economy and the corrupt ineptitude of our leaders, we are generally a happy bunch, will party at the drop of a hat, make friends easily and are not loners or socially crippled “the world has done me wrong” types. Here comes this stupid kid from a wealthy father and all of a sudden I am confused, I ask myself “self, why would his boy do this?”, it makes no sense at all. Children of privilege are not supposed to subscribe to the seduction of religious fanatics’, religion is supposed to be the opium of the poor not the rich and bored. So what is the missing link? To use a Nigerian slang “na where this tori from develop K-leg?” I keep coming back to the same thing, is this some form of teenage rebellion? If it is not, then what is it?
My Brother You Sabi Speak Brokin? Morning Humor - If you can read it.
So you wake up for mor rin. Look inside mirror, you are disgusted with what you have become. What happened to that good looking person you used to be? “How did these tires get to the back of my head?” You ask no one in particular. “Oh my God, I have developed choppers!”, you think. Despite or to spite the ugliness in the mirror, you start your day with ten big balls of akra, a bowl of akamu with powdered milk and sugar. You are very unhappy with Mama Theresa, “dis woman wan carry food kill me”, “ wich kin mountain of food be dis?” But as you get up to leave the table nothing is left, your stomach is very happy but your mind is upset. As oga you leave the plate on the table, somebody will clear it, it gives you a small measure of satisfaction that it will piss off Mama Theresa when she comes around to clear the table and do the dishes. Serves her right, always serving you heavy food in the morning. By the way where is that boy? “LEVINUS!, SIR! He yells back, “Can’t you see that I running late, it is more of a statement than a question, he knows better than to respond to that. Oya, go warm the car and bring me my briefcase. You hear keys jiggling as he starts flying down the stairs, Levy loves to warm the car, you suspect that he even drives it from time to time, you make a mental note to set a trap for the rascal. Speaking of which, where in Ijebu is Mama Theresa? Chei, you have suffered in this house, I guess they now expect you to lie out your own clothes. Ehhh… wonders shall never end.
MAMA THESERA, MAMA THERESA! IF I CALL YOU AGAIN, THIS HOUSE WILL NOT CONTAIN THE TWO OF US O! you yell. “Gbaborun!, “why you dey shout”,” why you dey shout” she repeats,” abi you think sey na slave you buy put for house?”” I bin dey downstairs dey fetch water,” “Na wetin you want?” Immediately you can tell she is in a bad mood, if you want to go to work this morning, it might be a good idea to thread softly. In a much softer tone, you ask if she has laid out your Agbada for you already? She murmurs something under her breathe and spins around on her heels, heading for the bedroom. As you watch her walk away, your eyes are drawn to the violent side to side motion of her yansh, almost without warning you feel blood surging through your kini, you are aroused. Feigning anger, you storm after her into the bedroom,you pretend to slam the door shut in anger. You reach out to her with you left hand while with your right, you start to loosen your wrapper “wetin dey worry you sef?” “everytime na so so harassment for this house”. “Oya, come siddon near me for this bed I wan talk to you”……………
MAMA THESERA, MAMA THERESA! IF I CALL YOU AGAIN, THIS HOUSE WILL NOT CONTAIN THE TWO OF US O! you yell. “Gbaborun!, “why you dey shout”,” why you dey shout” she repeats,” abi you think sey na slave you buy put for house?”” I bin dey downstairs dey fetch water,” “Na wetin you want?” Immediately you can tell she is in a bad mood, if you want to go to work this morning, it might be a good idea to thread softly. In a much softer tone, you ask if she has laid out your Agbada for you already? She murmurs something under her breathe and spins around on her heels, heading for the bedroom. As you watch her walk away, your eyes are drawn to the violent side to side motion of her yansh, almost without warning you feel blood surging through your kini, you are aroused. Feigning anger, you storm after her into the bedroom,you pretend to slam the door shut in anger. You reach out to her with you left hand while with your right, you start to loosen your wrapper “wetin dey worry you sef?” “everytime na so so harassment for this house”. “Oya, come siddon near me for this bed I wan talk to you”……………
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