"Swim Good"...Frank Ocean
Somewhere out in the West Midlands, far from the organized chaos of the concrete jungle, Ramone sat puffing on his cigarette, he flicked the ash off with a practiced flick, almost negligent of his surroundings. Out here in the country side, there was a tranquility that could not be measured, a certain peace that couldnt be described adequately with words, it was almost as if he was one with the elements, a perfect blend of man with nature, his soul fused into the timeless wander of existence. He could hear the birds sing to each other merrily, the joy in their voice borne out of an emotion alien to humans, it couldnt exactly be defined as happiness, it transcended the human definition of happiness, it was almost a'kin to a feeling of freedom that could only be imagined by walking off death row at the last second. He couldnt remember exactly how he had come to this state, but then he was a creature of habit.
He had lapsed into his temporary fugue state like he did every afternoon while he was on vacation and somehow he had drifted to unknown territory. In his mind, he was out in the desert, surrounded by emptiness and landscapes that had been rendered almost invisible by time, the wind whispered in his ears, slow soft whispers that felt almost rhythmic but at the same time eerie, he could taste the dry sharpness of the sand on his lips, brittle and almost feathery to the skin of his inner mind. There was no oasis in this desert, only an infinitesimal space that paled in comparison to the single speck of humanity that was represented by him. He was alone, a victim of his own prison, warden and convict at the same time yet powerless to loosen the bonds of ephemeral captivity. The sand swirled about his feet, almost in slow motion, he observed it like a man caught in a trance, gradually a hole began to form where his feet was planted, at first a speck, like little seams unravelling at the edges, he could feel himself sinking slowly, and there was nothing he could do about it.
There was no battle to fight, no wars to rally against, just the silent swoosh as the sand around his feet slowly faded out of existence into another world that he couldn't visualize, a gradual drift into oblivion.
He knew he had to do something soon, or he'd be swallowed up, he had never walked down these paths before, so he was unsure as to the next move to make, his eyes never wavered from the image of his reflection trapped in the sand. Have you ever experienced an out of body experience? Floating out of your soul to gaze down on your spirit, that was the scenario here, he stared deeper at the imagery in his mind, almost transfixed, as if by magic time had gradually ground to a halt in the inner corridors of his mentality. He was torn between indecision and the gravity of his dilemma, a debacle that he couldn't seem to resolve. Time slipped by in steady steps for the man in the desert, yet it never moved for the man on the curb, contrasting emotions ran through the different worlds...
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
PaCoLiSo...Chapter 3
Life moved on pretty smoothly afterwards. There werent much students in the estate and for some odd reason people seemed to keep to themselves. Samurai mentioned to Shimon that the estate bore a close similarity to a mini fiefdom. The standard mode of greeting was a perfunctory nod of the head or a twitch of the eyebrows as people walked by. There were little cliques and from all appearances the cliques were as isolated as Palestinians and Israelis on the Gaza Strip. After the Kandi incident, Samurai was wary of making any new 'friends". His back still hurt from the trauma of cleaning up Kandi's room, it had taken a grand total of almost 3 hours from start to finish. He and Shimon had worked as if they were in a trance and the only positive experience he could recall from the incident was that Kandi could sing. She hadn't offered them breakfast afterwards, that was another issue they had grumbled about when they finally retired to their room.
A couple of days afterwards, Shimon noticed that the garbage heap that was inconveniently located behind their block, had started creeping towards the front of their room. Repeated appeals to "Oga Sam", the caretaker to do something about it was always met with a gap toothed grin and a prompt response of "I go do am, no worry". So the next weekend, Shimon and Samurai took matters into their own hands and decided to clean and push back the garbage heap. It was going to be backbreaking work but it had to be done. So that bright saturday morning, the 2 young men changed into work shorts and began the task of reclaiming their territory from overflowing garbage. After about an hour or two of serious work, Samurai sensed a pair of eyes watching them, so he looked up and that was how they met Tweety.
"She was waif like, an ebony colored Kate Moss, petite with deep eyes and a quizzical smile on her face, twas easy to detect the cogs in her brain clicking as she tried to figure out what the 2 young men were doing. Clad in a blue wrapper that
was tied securely around her slender frame, she had her hands in a knot underneath her chin and it seemed for a moment that she was lost in thought..."
"What are you guys doing?" She finally muttered.
Dripping with sweat, with aching joints, Samurai thought it was the most ridiculous question that he had ever been asked. In his mind he responded, "What does it look like? We were so bored and decided to play with garbage!" Shimon came to the rescue and explained that they had just moved in and that the garbage heap was encroaching on their territory so they were doing their best to tidy the place. He had just finished explaining and Tweety just turned and ran back into her room yelling at the top of her voice..."Pocahontas o! Pocahontas o! come and see o!" Shimon turned and looked at Samurai in confusion. By that point Samurai had come to the conclusion that all the tenants of Pacoliso were from a different planet, beautiful but as dysfunctional as Looney Tunes. A minute afterwards, Tweety ran back outside closely followed by Pocahontas, they were both giggling as if the idea of 2 bespectacled men battling against a heap of garbage was the most hilarious thing since the whiteman told Okonkwo that God had a son (Things Fall Apart).
Pocahontas was clad in a wrapper too, pearl shaped face with slight Oriental features. To Samurai's bewilderment she asked "What are you guys doing?"
As if that wasnt enough, Shimon explained all over again (Shimon wasn't just a diplomat, he took it as a responsibility to explain the most little details a thousand times over without getting upset). Samurai on the other hand was seething with anger, first Cubana, then Kandi, now Tweety and Pocahontas, what next he thought to himself, Pacoliso was already shaping up to be a mini Alcatraz.
After Shimon's explanation, Pocahontas asked "Are they paying you guys?". "No", Shimon replied, and launched into the merits of taking a proactive step to get Oga Sam to act, Tweety stood behind Pocahontas with the same quizzical smile on her face and an arched eyebrow. "Perhaps she is wondering if we are mad people, instead of her to just say thank you and offer us breakfast", Samurai muttered to himself... (Oga Sam did finally take notice as Shimon had mentioned and finished up the rest of the job).
Now there were 2 things that were striking about Pacoliso back in those days. The first was that Oga Sam had a few turkeys that roamed around the estate, they were notorious for their noise and droppings. The damned turkeys shat all over the whole place and made a ridiculous amount of noise. The temptation to murder one of those turkeys at night was hard to resist, but out of respect for Oga Sam, they were never harmed. The other crazy feature was that Pacoliso had only 1 water storage tank, and to compound issues, the water tank was being used by laborers who were building what seemed like the Tower of Babel at the entrance to the estate. It didn't make any logical sense because for some odd reason water supply in the estate was controlled by only one electric powered water pump, so if NEPA struck (which was a regular feature), water went with it also. So the only source of water left in the event of a blackout was the sole storage tank. It was just an example of how inept Looney Tunes was in his thinking. To worsen matters, the water tank wasn't big, so the water was always finished at the speed of light. One thing you ought to remember is that Pacoliso's tenants were 90% female, and most women do NOT like to fetch water, especially when it involves trekking a long distance with a bucket. Gone were the days of "Eze goes to school" where Eze had to go to the stream 3 times in the morning before heading to school, Pacoliso ladies were beautiful and classy chicks, not village trained. But a few of them realized that survival entailed flexing their biceps to carry the buckets of water. Nevertheless, the water in the storage tank was never enough.
One beautiful Wednesday morning, NEPA had struck as usual the night before and the water in the storage tank had run out. Back then, there was an undisputed "Queen" of Pacoliso, some said she was the prettiest chick in Pacoliso then, she was light-skinned and tall and was the leader of one of the key cliques in Pacoliso. Sometime around 9am, she and her entourage made their way to the water tank to fetch water, about 7 of them in number. It was a sight to behold, pretty women in wrapper, cat-walking to the water tank (I never understood
the love for wrappers back then, maybe it was fashionable but all the chicks rocked their wrappers in the morning). On getting to the storage tank, Queen Bee turned the tap on and a little trickle of water came out, the water dripped like tear drops, surprisingly the ladies didnt seem to be flustered, instead they lined up their buckets and began the morning session of gist there. 30 minutes later, queen bee had only about a cupful of water, the gist had run out by this time and was slowly replaced with anger, to worsen matters, visitors had started coming into the estate. Now, there are beautiful women and there are pretty women, the difference is in the make-up, not all women like being seen without a touch of make-up, it takes a certain type of confidence to feel beautiful in your natural skin.
After 45minutes, the queue at the water tanker had grown to about 12 or 14 chicks, by that time no one was smiling. The next move was swift, they took their buckets to the front of the estate and sat in a line in front of the gate, angry expressions etched on their faces, waiting for Oga Landlord a.k.a. Looney Tunes to show up. Oga Sam the caretaker was smart enough to have evaporated from his command post to avoid lynching. So when Looney T arrived in the morning as usual to commence his day at the office, the gate opened to reveal a barricade of angry women clad in wrappers, sitting on top of empty buckets. He got down from his car and before he could open his mouth, the wave of angry voices shut him down, it was a furious onslaught of verbal warfare...a day later, 2 brand new water storage tanks arrived in Pacoliso...
As for that eventful day, letz just say that the riddle "How many bags of pure water does it take to fill a bucket?" was solved
To be continued...
Due to privacy concerns, the series will be discontinued...Sorry guys!
A couple of days afterwards, Shimon noticed that the garbage heap that was inconveniently located behind their block, had started creeping towards the front of their room. Repeated appeals to "Oga Sam", the caretaker to do something about it was always met with a gap toothed grin and a prompt response of "I go do am, no worry". So the next weekend, Shimon and Samurai took matters into their own hands and decided to clean and push back the garbage heap. It was going to be backbreaking work but it had to be done. So that bright saturday morning, the 2 young men changed into work shorts and began the task of reclaiming their territory from overflowing garbage. After about an hour or two of serious work, Samurai sensed a pair of eyes watching them, so he looked up and that was how they met Tweety.
"She was waif like, an ebony colored Kate Moss, petite with deep eyes and a quizzical smile on her face, twas easy to detect the cogs in her brain clicking as she tried to figure out what the 2 young men were doing. Clad in a blue wrapper that
was tied securely around her slender frame, she had her hands in a knot underneath her chin and it seemed for a moment that she was lost in thought..."
"What are you guys doing?" She finally muttered.
Dripping with sweat, with aching joints, Samurai thought it was the most ridiculous question that he had ever been asked. In his mind he responded, "What does it look like? We were so bored and decided to play with garbage!" Shimon came to the rescue and explained that they had just moved in and that the garbage heap was encroaching on their territory so they were doing their best to tidy the place. He had just finished explaining and Tweety just turned and ran back into her room yelling at the top of her voice..."Pocahontas o! Pocahontas o! come and see o!" Shimon turned and looked at Samurai in confusion. By that point Samurai had come to the conclusion that all the tenants of Pacoliso were from a different planet, beautiful but as dysfunctional as Looney Tunes. A minute afterwards, Tweety ran back outside closely followed by Pocahontas, they were both giggling as if the idea of 2 bespectacled men battling against a heap of garbage was the most hilarious thing since the whiteman told Okonkwo that God had a son (Things Fall Apart).
Pocahontas was clad in a wrapper too, pearl shaped face with slight Oriental features. To Samurai's bewilderment she asked "What are you guys doing?"
As if that wasnt enough, Shimon explained all over again (Shimon wasn't just a diplomat, he took it as a responsibility to explain the most little details a thousand times over without getting upset). Samurai on the other hand was seething with anger, first Cubana, then Kandi, now Tweety and Pocahontas, what next he thought to himself, Pacoliso was already shaping up to be a mini Alcatraz.
After Shimon's explanation, Pocahontas asked "Are they paying you guys?". "No", Shimon replied, and launched into the merits of taking a proactive step to get Oga Sam to act, Tweety stood behind Pocahontas with the same quizzical smile on her face and an arched eyebrow. "Perhaps she is wondering if we are mad people, instead of her to just say thank you and offer us breakfast", Samurai muttered to himself... (Oga Sam did finally take notice as Shimon had mentioned and finished up the rest of the job).
Now there were 2 things that were striking about Pacoliso back in those days. The first was that Oga Sam had a few turkeys that roamed around the estate, they were notorious for their noise and droppings. The damned turkeys shat all over the whole place and made a ridiculous amount of noise. The temptation to murder one of those turkeys at night was hard to resist, but out of respect for Oga Sam, they were never harmed. The other crazy feature was that Pacoliso had only 1 water storage tank, and to compound issues, the water tank was being used by laborers who were building what seemed like the Tower of Babel at the entrance to the estate. It didn't make any logical sense because for some odd reason water supply in the estate was controlled by only one electric powered water pump, so if NEPA struck (which was a regular feature), water went with it also. So the only source of water left in the event of a blackout was the sole storage tank. It was just an example of how inept Looney Tunes was in his thinking. To worsen matters, the water tank wasn't big, so the water was always finished at the speed of light. One thing you ought to remember is that Pacoliso's tenants were 90% female, and most women do NOT like to fetch water, especially when it involves trekking a long distance with a bucket. Gone were the days of "Eze goes to school" where Eze had to go to the stream 3 times in the morning before heading to school, Pacoliso ladies were beautiful and classy chicks, not village trained. But a few of them realized that survival entailed flexing their biceps to carry the buckets of water. Nevertheless, the water in the storage tank was never enough.
One beautiful Wednesday morning, NEPA had struck as usual the night before and the water in the storage tank had run out. Back then, there was an undisputed "Queen" of Pacoliso, some said she was the prettiest chick in Pacoliso then, she was light-skinned and tall and was the leader of one of the key cliques in Pacoliso. Sometime around 9am, she and her entourage made their way to the water tank to fetch water, about 7 of them in number. It was a sight to behold, pretty women in wrapper, cat-walking to the water tank (I never understood
the love for wrappers back then, maybe it was fashionable but all the chicks rocked their wrappers in the morning). On getting to the storage tank, Queen Bee turned the tap on and a little trickle of water came out, the water dripped like tear drops, surprisingly the ladies didnt seem to be flustered, instead they lined up their buckets and began the morning session of gist there. 30 minutes later, queen bee had only about a cupful of water, the gist had run out by this time and was slowly replaced with anger, to worsen matters, visitors had started coming into the estate. Now, there are beautiful women and there are pretty women, the difference is in the make-up, not all women like being seen without a touch of make-up, it takes a certain type of confidence to feel beautiful in your natural skin.
After 45minutes, the queue at the water tanker had grown to about 12 or 14 chicks, by that time no one was smiling. The next move was swift, they took their buckets to the front of the estate and sat in a line in front of the gate, angry expressions etched on their faces, waiting for Oga Landlord a.k.a. Looney Tunes to show up. Oga Sam the caretaker was smart enough to have evaporated from his command post to avoid lynching. So when Looney T arrived in the morning as usual to commence his day at the office, the gate opened to reveal a barricade of angry women clad in wrappers, sitting on top of empty buckets. He got down from his car and before he could open his mouth, the wave of angry voices shut him down, it was a furious onslaught of verbal warfare...a day later, 2 brand new water storage tanks arrived in Pacoliso...
As for that eventful day, letz just say that the riddle "How many bags of pure water does it take to fill a bucket?" was solved
To be continued...
Due to privacy concerns, the series will be discontinued...Sorry guys!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thanksgiving & Unfinished thots
Thanksgiving
Itz that time of the year again, turkey day and the officially allowed period of gluttony and laziness, lol. I'm thankful for so many things, for family, friends, love and life. I still remember the early days...days of avoiding fights in primary school 'cos I was skinny, days of insecurity and inferiority complex, days of hunger in boarding house, days of uncertainty in undergrad, days of emptiness and void in a new country, days of all work and study and no vacation...Then I remember the good days, the good memories, growing up years, childhood, family, running barefoot in villa, the happy years, the beauty of naivety, the fun moments in Paco, the brotherhood of the Pypes, the thrill of hustling and hardwork, the exhilaration of success, getting paid, the bliss of summer, the beauty of winter, Ballerina girl...numerous blessings.
I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has contributed to the story of my life, my journey would be incomplete without all of you. I've always believed that every person that walks the face of earth is unique simply because life is the sum-total of our daily interactions and experiences, two people can't have exactly the same stories. I'm thankful to God for sticking with me, despite all my shortcomings and weaknesses. I'm a work in progress, there isnt any "do not disturb" sign, rather I ask that you interrupt me if you notice I am going off track. Life is beautiful and I'm happy and grateful to be alive. To anyone reading this, take a moment to reflect on how far God has brought you, don't stop there, be thankful and pay it forward, spread the love and show love to someone else...
Unfinished Thots
Wrote this piece in my dreams awhile back, can't recall when. Was trying to paint the picture of a broken heart and then I realized that almost all the existing imagery we are used to involved women, wondered how a man would feel.
Heartbreak
He glances at his phone often...
Hoping to see a message or two from her...
But the phone stares back at him in defiance...
Dark and blank, like an endless hole...
His eyes drift off in absentminded wander...
Why doesnt she respond he ponders...
Maybe she is too busy, he says to himself...
Maybe she is preoccupied with something else...
Maybe she is asleep, maybe...
He runs out of excuses daily...
He never stops thinking about her...
It feels like deja vu all over again, he could taste it...
Walked down this path before...
Just then, the phone blinks...
the red indicator gleaming like a rainbow in the desert...
Heartbeat pounds with excitement...
Fingers are out of control as they rush over the keypads...
His eyes light up in anticipation...
then they grow dim like a room slowly deprived of its only source of light...
A solitary candle in the wind, the flame flickers and dies...
Like Plato's allegory, he returns to his cave...
The voices in his head whisper in mocking tones...
He retreats into the shadows of his heart...
The room eerily seems to have lost its former brightness and warmth...
Only one picture hangs on the wall...
Itz tough to make out the features in the dim lights...
He sinks to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees...
Rocking slowly, hanging on to memories...
Struggling to banish the emptiness building up inside...
Clinging to hope, eyes fixed firmly on the flickering flame of the candle...
The voices never let up, his eyes close...
A single tear-drop runs down slowly...
Itz that time of the year again, turkey day and the officially allowed period of gluttony and laziness, lol. I'm thankful for so many things, for family, friends, love and life. I still remember the early days...days of avoiding fights in primary school 'cos I was skinny, days of insecurity and inferiority complex, days of hunger in boarding house, days of uncertainty in undergrad, days of emptiness and void in a new country, days of all work and study and no vacation...Then I remember the good days, the good memories, growing up years, childhood, family, running barefoot in villa, the happy years, the beauty of naivety, the fun moments in Paco, the brotherhood of the Pypes, the thrill of hustling and hardwork, the exhilaration of success, getting paid, the bliss of summer, the beauty of winter, Ballerina girl...numerous blessings.
I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has contributed to the story of my life, my journey would be incomplete without all of you. I've always believed that every person that walks the face of earth is unique simply because life is the sum-total of our daily interactions and experiences, two people can't have exactly the same stories. I'm thankful to God for sticking with me, despite all my shortcomings and weaknesses. I'm a work in progress, there isnt any "do not disturb" sign, rather I ask that you interrupt me if you notice I am going off track. Life is beautiful and I'm happy and grateful to be alive. To anyone reading this, take a moment to reflect on how far God has brought you, don't stop there, be thankful and pay it forward, spread the love and show love to someone else...
Unfinished Thots
Wrote this piece in my dreams awhile back, can't recall when. Was trying to paint the picture of a broken heart and then I realized that almost all the existing imagery we are used to involved women, wondered how a man would feel.
Heartbreak
He glances at his phone often...
Hoping to see a message or two from her...
But the phone stares back at him in defiance...
Dark and blank, like an endless hole...
His eyes drift off in absentminded wander...
Why doesnt she respond he ponders...
Maybe she is too busy, he says to himself...
Maybe she is preoccupied with something else...
Maybe she is asleep, maybe...
He runs out of excuses daily...
He never stops thinking about her...
It feels like deja vu all over again, he could taste it...
Walked down this path before...
Just then, the phone blinks...
the red indicator gleaming like a rainbow in the desert...
Heartbeat pounds with excitement...
Fingers are out of control as they rush over the keypads...
His eyes light up in anticipation...
then they grow dim like a room slowly deprived of its only source of light...
A solitary candle in the wind, the flame flickers and dies...
Like Plato's allegory, he returns to his cave...
The voices in his head whisper in mocking tones...
He retreats into the shadows of his heart...
The room eerily seems to have lost its former brightness and warmth...
Only one picture hangs on the wall...
Itz tough to make out the features in the dim lights...
He sinks to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees...
Rocking slowly, hanging on to memories...
Struggling to banish the emptiness building up inside...
Clinging to hope, eyes fixed firmly on the flickering flame of the candle...
The voices never let up, his eyes close...
A single tear-drop runs down slowly...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Pacoliso…Chapter 2
The first night in a new house is always worth remembering. The feel of waking up to a new environment, then the sudden realization that you have a new home always feels like a rush of blood to the head. As opposed to hostel life, living off-campus had its perks, one of them being the warm feeling of solitude in the early hours of the morning. Back in his former abode, “Block C” as it was known; Samurai never really knew what it felt like to wake up happy. The morning always brought one new drama or escapade. Either it was the staccato rapid burst of early morning prayer (demon-killing, holy ghost fire style) from the room next door, or the rhythmic aggressive snoring emanating from the cubicle opposite him, or even worse the shrill scream of kids hawking A & B (Akara and Bread). To compound matters, the occupants of Block C were notorious for their music tastes. While “JJ Chopinson” in Room 6 was known to blast highlife music in the early hours of the morning, the “Man O War” brethren next door in Room 5 preferred the jazz tunes of Fela Kuti, throw in the random mix of Igbo gospel songs (“Akanchawa”) from the opposite wing and maybe a popular Westlife track and you’d get a perfect idea of what the early morning orchestra sounded like.
On the contrary, waking up in Paco for Samurai was almost like opening his eyes to see himself in heaven, except for the fact that Shimon was listening intently to BBC and there was no way the soundtrack in heaven was BBC. Now that was another little detail about Shimon, true to his diplomatic nature, he never missed listening to the news, CNN, BBC, Nigerian news, he was as current as a club DJ on the reigning club hits, a habit that eventually rubbed off on Samurai.
Anyway, back to that first morning, while Shimon was tuned to his radio, he and Samurai made plans on what to buy for the new apartment. The rug was already in place, deep blue with faint white patterns, the 14-inch TV glared back at them with pride (owning a TV back then was a gbogbo bigz boiz trend) and they even had a small fridge that hummed with satisfaction at the voltage it was receiving from NEPA. The room was lit by a china-made chandelier, artistic and simple, Shimon referred to it as the “hell fire light” bcos it only cast the room in soft suggestive glows.
After the morning dialogue and mini-debate over world politics and sports, they both decided to get the day started, it was a Saturday morning after all and there was still a lot of work to be done. The bathroom needed serious renovating and that was the first task of the day. Samurai jumped out of bed, took a few steps towards the door and froze.
“Ol boi wetin happen?” Shimon asked.
Samurai didn’t respond, rather he took a few extra steps and turned around to face Shimon, the first glimmer of panic spreading over his face like a primary school child struggling to remember the capital of Zambia.
“E be like say our house don flood. The rug is soaking wet” he responded.
Shimon scrambled frantically out of bed and rushed to where Samurai stood, each step bringing a squelch of water. Truly the rug was as soaked as a piece of bread dipped in a cup of tea.
“Which kain wahala be this sef”, he grumbled.
They traced the leak to the bathroom, it was worse than they had previously imagined, half of the room was soaked. Without wasting any further time, they got to work and started mopping the water from the rug. About 2 hours later, they were almost done, happy and tired with relief, they jokingly cursed Looney T and Cubana in hushed whispers, the inept landlord was responsible for the maintenance of the house after all and Cubana was simply the worst neighbor in the history of civilization.
Just as they were about finishing, a young lady walked in. She was still clad in her pyjamas, and had a curious smile on her face. Her hair was was cut low, Fantasia style, and framed her face perfectly. She was light skinned and slim, wearing blue bathroom slippers (a.k.a. flip flops) which showed off toes that were neatly painted and hinted excellent pedicure. All traces of fatigue immediately evaporated from Shimon and Samurai’s demeanor, a friendly neighbor at last, different from that idiot Cubana who nearly got Samurai killed.
“Hello”, she said, “do you have a leak somewhere?”
Her name was Eye-Kandi and she lived in the adjoining room to theirs. Kai, sweet neighbor, very thoughtful and considerate, Samurai thought to himself. Shimon happily explained that they had a leak in their bathroom and that it had flooded their room overnight. “But don’t worry, we have finally cleaned up everything”, he finished.
“Okay, no wonder. The leak from your bathroom flooded my whole room too”, Kandi responded.
Shimon being a true diplomat offered his and Samurai’s assistance immediately. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you clean up”, he said. Samurai could feel the tension growing in his stomach, he was tired and they had just spent almost 2 and a half hours cleaning their room and it was only half flooded, surely Kandi’s room couldn’t be that bad. Maybe, Kandi would even offer them breakfast when they were through with helping her, he smiled inwardly and nodded his head in agreement as they all chatted happily and made their way to Kandi’s room. She had Jill Scott’s album playing, the first step inside the room transformed the tension in Samurai’s stomach to sheer terror.
The WHOLE room was flooded; it felt like walking on water.
Kandi beamed a smile at the 2 panic-stricken young men and said, “where do you want to start?”
To be continued…
On the contrary, waking up in Paco for Samurai was almost like opening his eyes to see himself in heaven, except for the fact that Shimon was listening intently to BBC and there was no way the soundtrack in heaven was BBC. Now that was another little detail about Shimon, true to his diplomatic nature, he never missed listening to the news, CNN, BBC, Nigerian news, he was as current as a club DJ on the reigning club hits, a habit that eventually rubbed off on Samurai.
Anyway, back to that first morning, while Shimon was tuned to his radio, he and Samurai made plans on what to buy for the new apartment. The rug was already in place, deep blue with faint white patterns, the 14-inch TV glared back at them with pride (owning a TV back then was a gbogbo bigz boiz trend) and they even had a small fridge that hummed with satisfaction at the voltage it was receiving from NEPA. The room was lit by a china-made chandelier, artistic and simple, Shimon referred to it as the “hell fire light” bcos it only cast the room in soft suggestive glows.
After the morning dialogue and mini-debate over world politics and sports, they both decided to get the day started, it was a Saturday morning after all and there was still a lot of work to be done. The bathroom needed serious renovating and that was the first task of the day. Samurai jumped out of bed, took a few steps towards the door and froze.
“Ol boi wetin happen?” Shimon asked.
Samurai didn’t respond, rather he took a few extra steps and turned around to face Shimon, the first glimmer of panic spreading over his face like a primary school child struggling to remember the capital of Zambia.
“E be like say our house don flood. The rug is soaking wet” he responded.
Shimon scrambled frantically out of bed and rushed to where Samurai stood, each step bringing a squelch of water. Truly the rug was as soaked as a piece of bread dipped in a cup of tea.
“Which kain wahala be this sef”, he grumbled.
They traced the leak to the bathroom, it was worse than they had previously imagined, half of the room was soaked. Without wasting any further time, they got to work and started mopping the water from the rug. About 2 hours later, they were almost done, happy and tired with relief, they jokingly cursed Looney T and Cubana in hushed whispers, the inept landlord was responsible for the maintenance of the house after all and Cubana was simply the worst neighbor in the history of civilization.
Just as they were about finishing, a young lady walked in. She was still clad in her pyjamas, and had a curious smile on her face. Her hair was was cut low, Fantasia style, and framed her face perfectly. She was light skinned and slim, wearing blue bathroom slippers (a.k.a. flip flops) which showed off toes that were neatly painted and hinted excellent pedicure. All traces of fatigue immediately evaporated from Shimon and Samurai’s demeanor, a friendly neighbor at last, different from that idiot Cubana who nearly got Samurai killed.
“Hello”, she said, “do you have a leak somewhere?”
Her name was Eye-Kandi and she lived in the adjoining room to theirs. Kai, sweet neighbor, very thoughtful and considerate, Samurai thought to himself. Shimon happily explained that they had a leak in their bathroom and that it had flooded their room overnight. “But don’t worry, we have finally cleaned up everything”, he finished.
“Okay, no wonder. The leak from your bathroom flooded my whole room too”, Kandi responded.
Shimon being a true diplomat offered his and Samurai’s assistance immediately. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you clean up”, he said. Samurai could feel the tension growing in his stomach, he was tired and they had just spent almost 2 and a half hours cleaning their room and it was only half flooded, surely Kandi’s room couldn’t be that bad. Maybe, Kandi would even offer them breakfast when they were through with helping her, he smiled inwardly and nodded his head in agreement as they all chatted happily and made their way to Kandi’s room. She had Jill Scott’s album playing, the first step inside the room transformed the tension in Samurai’s stomach to sheer terror.
The WHOLE room was flooded; it felt like walking on water.
Kandi beamed a smile at the 2 panic-stricken young men and said, “where do you want to start?”
To be continued…
Friday, November 11, 2011
PACOLISO...Chapter 1
There wasn’t anything fancy or classy about Pacoliso’s looks. Its key attraction was location. It was strategically situated opposite the small gate at Choba, close to all the major attractions of the University. Initially no students lived in Pacoliso, then with the sudden boom in off-campus accommodation, Pacoliso’s shrewd landlord decided to kick out his tenants, redesign the apartments and rent it out to students. It was an idea as brilliant as Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook hijack. But before we dive in to the story, let me introduce you to the landlord, Loony Tunes.
“Without mincing words, permit me to say that the man was a borderline nut case. I had always assumed that schizophrenia was an oyibo disease but the concept of a well dressed mad man hadn’t crossed my mind. Loony Tunes had a split personality disorder, you could tell by the glint in his eyes. He was always well dressed and his English was excellent, but his madness was beyond imagination. One of the highlights of his actions was breaking a plank on a student’s head, the final round in a marathon battle they were involved in. His personality change was so sudden that you’d miss it if you so much as blinked. Loony’s sole occupation was being a landlord, and he sucked royally at it.”
The very first sets of students to move in were female. And by an act of coincidence, the next set was also female. The striking thing about all the female inhabitants of Pacoliso was that they were all beautiful. Now don’t get it twisted, I don’t believe any woman is ugly, maybe aesthetically disadvantaged, but the Pacoliso student-tenants were stunning. Word started to diffuse around campus slowly that Loony Tunes was hiring out self-contained apartments to students. The demand was intense; you had to be extremely lucky to get a spot. What made the odds tougher was that Loony Tunes had a strong dislike for the male species. The man simply didn’t like guys, don’t ask me why. So only the ladies got lucky, and he rented out to only beautiful and well-mannered chicks. I guess he didn’t want drama queens as tenants. So the day he accepted the two bespectacled young men as tenants, it came as a surprise.
“Shimon and Last Samurai were a striking pair. They both wore glasses and shared a few other similarities but they were as alike as Barrack Obama and Muhammad Ali. Shimon was the logical-thinking, BBC listening and intelligent statesman, a true diplomat. Last Samurai on the other hand was a hybrid of fire and ice, a fusion of different personalities, likeable but complex to decipher. They had no premonition of the circus that would unfold in the years to come and the journey they would share. They were friends and fellow-pypes and were excited at the prospect of living off-campus.”
The first incidence occurred the day they moved in and met their neighbor, Cubana. The young man sat outside the apartment clad in only shorts and a well-worn/almost frayed BYC vest. The notorious Port Harcourt heat and humid weather was in full force yet Cubana was puffing on a cigarette and taking small sips from a bag of NAFDAC unapproved pure aqua. He glanced at the new tenants warily from bloodshot eyes that looked glazed over and concentrated on his puffing. The distinct fragrance of Indian hemp hung around Cubana like a halo. He had probably smoked a few joints for lunch. Shimon, being true to his nature approached and introduced himself; Last Samurai grudgingly followed his lead. Shimon fired off a few questions to Cubana, eager to break the ice and get an overview of life at Pacoliso. As the conversation was going on, Samurai noticed Loony Tunes approaching. Once Cubana’s eyes were able to decipher Loony T from the distance amidst the marijuana fog that covered his eyes, he bolted into his room like Usain and left Shimon and Last Samurai standing outside the apartment in amazement.
Loony Tunes walked over to the 2 young men with a big smile on his face and as Shimon was beginning the rite of introduction, Last Samurai noticed an odd glint light up in Loony’s eyes. Then all hell broke loose. Loony sniffed the air and muttered “you are smoking cannabis in my house”. He lunged for Samurai’s throat while screaming profanity. Shimon was struck with shock as Loony pinned Samurai to the door while gripping his neck, you could notice the quizzical shocked expression on Samurai’s face, as Shimon struggled to explain that they hadn’t been smoking, Loony yelled a few more words and stomped away muttering to himself. The chaos had barely lasted a minute. Shimon and Samurai stared at each other in shock and surprise, with no words coming forth. Cubana crept out of his room a few seconds later, and burst out laughing.
Finally Samurai was able to mutter a few words. “What was that all about?” he said.
Cubana in between fits of laughter replied, “Ol boi, welcome to Pacoliso, you never see anything…”
To be continued...
“Without mincing words, permit me to say that the man was a borderline nut case. I had always assumed that schizophrenia was an oyibo disease but the concept of a well dressed mad man hadn’t crossed my mind. Loony Tunes had a split personality disorder, you could tell by the glint in his eyes. He was always well dressed and his English was excellent, but his madness was beyond imagination. One of the highlights of his actions was breaking a plank on a student’s head, the final round in a marathon battle they were involved in. His personality change was so sudden that you’d miss it if you so much as blinked. Loony’s sole occupation was being a landlord, and he sucked royally at it.”
The very first sets of students to move in were female. And by an act of coincidence, the next set was also female. The striking thing about all the female inhabitants of Pacoliso was that they were all beautiful. Now don’t get it twisted, I don’t believe any woman is ugly, maybe aesthetically disadvantaged, but the Pacoliso student-tenants were stunning. Word started to diffuse around campus slowly that Loony Tunes was hiring out self-contained apartments to students. The demand was intense; you had to be extremely lucky to get a spot. What made the odds tougher was that Loony Tunes had a strong dislike for the male species. The man simply didn’t like guys, don’t ask me why. So only the ladies got lucky, and he rented out to only beautiful and well-mannered chicks. I guess he didn’t want drama queens as tenants. So the day he accepted the two bespectacled young men as tenants, it came as a surprise.
“Shimon and Last Samurai were a striking pair. They both wore glasses and shared a few other similarities but they were as alike as Barrack Obama and Muhammad Ali. Shimon was the logical-thinking, BBC listening and intelligent statesman, a true diplomat. Last Samurai on the other hand was a hybrid of fire and ice, a fusion of different personalities, likeable but complex to decipher. They had no premonition of the circus that would unfold in the years to come and the journey they would share. They were friends and fellow-pypes and were excited at the prospect of living off-campus.”
The first incidence occurred the day they moved in and met their neighbor, Cubana. The young man sat outside the apartment clad in only shorts and a well-worn/almost frayed BYC vest. The notorious Port Harcourt heat and humid weather was in full force yet Cubana was puffing on a cigarette and taking small sips from a bag of NAFDAC unapproved pure aqua. He glanced at the new tenants warily from bloodshot eyes that looked glazed over and concentrated on his puffing. The distinct fragrance of Indian hemp hung around Cubana like a halo. He had probably smoked a few joints for lunch. Shimon, being true to his nature approached and introduced himself; Last Samurai grudgingly followed his lead. Shimon fired off a few questions to Cubana, eager to break the ice and get an overview of life at Pacoliso. As the conversation was going on, Samurai noticed Loony Tunes approaching. Once Cubana’s eyes were able to decipher Loony T from the distance amidst the marijuana fog that covered his eyes, he bolted into his room like Usain and left Shimon and Last Samurai standing outside the apartment in amazement.
Loony Tunes walked over to the 2 young men with a big smile on his face and as Shimon was beginning the rite of introduction, Last Samurai noticed an odd glint light up in Loony’s eyes. Then all hell broke loose. Loony sniffed the air and muttered “you are smoking cannabis in my house”. He lunged for Samurai’s throat while screaming profanity. Shimon was struck with shock as Loony pinned Samurai to the door while gripping his neck, you could notice the quizzical shocked expression on Samurai’s face, as Shimon struggled to explain that they hadn’t been smoking, Loony yelled a few more words and stomped away muttering to himself. The chaos had barely lasted a minute. Shimon and Samurai stared at each other in shock and surprise, with no words coming forth. Cubana crept out of his room a few seconds later, and burst out laughing.
Finally Samurai was able to mutter a few words. “What was that all about?” he said.
Cubana in between fits of laughter replied, “Ol boi, welcome to Pacoliso, you never see anything…”
To be continued...
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
If Pillows Could Talk...
“If pillows could talk…”
The morning light filtered into the room, basking it in warm glows. In the dim silhouette, you could make out the outline of the bed; the sheets clung to the edge of the bed frame, partially covering the intertwined limbs that were still caught in the throes of sleep, tell-tales to a night of passion. The pillow in contrast was clutched tightly by the sleeping lovers; you could almost feel the warm exhalation of air from slightly parted lips on the pillow…
I’m always outwardly clean, that’s one feature I take pride in and at the same time ashamed of because it paints a façade that masks the reality of my life. Looking at me, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference over the years, age has been kind to me and in as much as you might notice a few wrinkles, it would be impossible to guess my age. You may say that I stumbled upon the fountain of youth early and as amazing as that sounds, I wish I were old instead, shriveled and left to spend the rest of my days in solitude.
My mistress was kind-hearted, it didn’t show all the time but she looked after me. I don’t know if she did it out of a sense of obligation or if her actions were borne out of love but over the years I’ve learnt to cling to the few good images of life and leave other riddles unanswered. I still recall when we first met, love had nothing to do it, felt more like a compromise between chemistry and economics if you get my drift, but our relationship was founded on need. I needed to move on from public life and settle down and she needed someone to rest on. We were a perfect match, and our love for each other blossomed from there as time rolled by…Her scent was of summer roses and passionate fruits and once the lights were turned down low, I would close my eyes and bask in her fragrance. I didn’t care much about her other half, I had only eyes for her and everything else around was like a blur to me. Looking back now, I wish I had paid more attention…
The first time I knew something was wrong was when she travelled, for the first few nights there was nothing odd, Iife was its normal routine and I yearned for her touch and return. Then one night, I was awakened by the touch of another woman, her scent was different, subtle but not overpowering and I could taste the soft vapors of margaritas on her lips. Her fingers dug into my skin and I was swept away by the heat of the moment, lost in her moans of passion and bliss. I woke up the next morning on the floor, and as the memories of the previous night came flooding back, reality crept in like the fingers of winter. The evidence of my betrayal was tattooed all over my skin, red lipstick, few strands of hair and the inescapable scent of perfume that clung to me like a halo. Water can wash away stains and time can erase a lot of memories but guilt takes a long time to vanish…
At first I blamed it on the alcohol, there had to be a logical reason as to why it happened, I argued. A voice in my head whispered, “There’s never a reason, just an opportunity…” I shrugged it off, and tried to blank the incident from my mind. “Surely,” I said to myself, “it can’t happen again…” I was mistaken. It did happen again, and again…till I was forced to accept that there was another woman in my life. It sickened me because I couldn’t speak up and I was helpless to stop it. Whenever my mistress returned, she was unaware to what had happened in her absence. At night while she held me with passion, a part of me would cringe in shame at the betrayal. I was playing both sides of the coin and it was only a matter of time before karma caught up.
We were caught finally, it was inevitable so don’t act surprised. My mistress started getting suspicious, and the minor arguments started. I closed my ears to it, and at night she would cry out of frustration. I soaked up her tears and said nothing. I wish I could have said something but I was as guilty as the other woman. It wasn’t the lipstick or the hair strands or the perfume that gave me away, it was an ear-ring…a glittering ear ring that was forgotten by the other woman. Have you ever tasted the tears of a broken-hearted woman? It doesn’t taste salty, it feels like liquid fire to the senses, each drop burning into you like lava drops from a volcano, the trail leaving a scar that may be temporarily removed but permanently etched in your subconscious…
My name is Cole and if pillows could talk, this would be my story…
The morning light filtered into the room, basking it in warm glows. In the dim silhouette, you could make out the outline of the bed; the sheets clung to the edge of the bed frame, partially covering the intertwined limbs that were still caught in the throes of sleep, tell-tales to a night of passion. The pillow in contrast was clutched tightly by the sleeping lovers; you could almost feel the warm exhalation of air from slightly parted lips on the pillow…
I’m always outwardly clean, that’s one feature I take pride in and at the same time ashamed of because it paints a façade that masks the reality of my life. Looking at me, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference over the years, age has been kind to me and in as much as you might notice a few wrinkles, it would be impossible to guess my age. You may say that I stumbled upon the fountain of youth early and as amazing as that sounds, I wish I were old instead, shriveled and left to spend the rest of my days in solitude.
My mistress was kind-hearted, it didn’t show all the time but she looked after me. I don’t know if she did it out of a sense of obligation or if her actions were borne out of love but over the years I’ve learnt to cling to the few good images of life and leave other riddles unanswered. I still recall when we first met, love had nothing to do it, felt more like a compromise between chemistry and economics if you get my drift, but our relationship was founded on need. I needed to move on from public life and settle down and she needed someone to rest on. We were a perfect match, and our love for each other blossomed from there as time rolled by…Her scent was of summer roses and passionate fruits and once the lights were turned down low, I would close my eyes and bask in her fragrance. I didn’t care much about her other half, I had only eyes for her and everything else around was like a blur to me. Looking back now, I wish I had paid more attention…
The first time I knew something was wrong was when she travelled, for the first few nights there was nothing odd, Iife was its normal routine and I yearned for her touch and return. Then one night, I was awakened by the touch of another woman, her scent was different, subtle but not overpowering and I could taste the soft vapors of margaritas on her lips. Her fingers dug into my skin and I was swept away by the heat of the moment, lost in her moans of passion and bliss. I woke up the next morning on the floor, and as the memories of the previous night came flooding back, reality crept in like the fingers of winter. The evidence of my betrayal was tattooed all over my skin, red lipstick, few strands of hair and the inescapable scent of perfume that clung to me like a halo. Water can wash away stains and time can erase a lot of memories but guilt takes a long time to vanish…
At first I blamed it on the alcohol, there had to be a logical reason as to why it happened, I argued. A voice in my head whispered, “There’s never a reason, just an opportunity…” I shrugged it off, and tried to blank the incident from my mind. “Surely,” I said to myself, “it can’t happen again…” I was mistaken. It did happen again, and again…till I was forced to accept that there was another woman in my life. It sickened me because I couldn’t speak up and I was helpless to stop it. Whenever my mistress returned, she was unaware to what had happened in her absence. At night while she held me with passion, a part of me would cringe in shame at the betrayal. I was playing both sides of the coin and it was only a matter of time before karma caught up.
We were caught finally, it was inevitable so don’t act surprised. My mistress started getting suspicious, and the minor arguments started. I closed my ears to it, and at night she would cry out of frustration. I soaked up her tears and said nothing. I wish I could have said something but I was as guilty as the other woman. It wasn’t the lipstick or the hair strands or the perfume that gave me away, it was an ear-ring…a glittering ear ring that was forgotten by the other woman. Have you ever tasted the tears of a broken-hearted woman? It doesn’t taste salty, it feels like liquid fire to the senses, each drop burning into you like lava drops from a volcano, the trail leaving a scar that may be temporarily removed but permanently etched in your subconscious…
My name is Cole and if pillows could talk, this would be my story…
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Good Boyfriend
Coventry, UK...
October 3, 2011...
Back in the days in the Garden City, there used to be a common phrase amongst the "Pypes" that was rather hilarious. A typical convo would start like this (the translation is in parentheses for the uninitiated:
"Ol boi, u don fool finish" (Dude, u r hopeless)
"Wetin I do?" (What did I do?)
"U mean say u no buy ur malawi anything for Valentine?" (So you didnt get ur girlfriend a Valentine gift?)
"No be so, I dey see my die right now" (It aint like that, I'm broke right now)
"Na u dey carry last for boyfriend of the year" (U r in last place for a "boyfriend of the year" poll)
"Ur father lap!" (This was a basic yab, literal translation, lol)
Dat was in the good old days, when men were still boys and the theory of making relationships work was still a hybrid between trial and error and experience. Fast-forward a couple of years and I really don't know if the world has moved on or if the boys have really matured into men. I've never been of the school of thought that maturity grows with age, there's always an undefined variance to every statistic. I've come across many blogs and articles commenting on the qualities of the "ideal husband/wife". The views have varied from the downright zany to the quite outrageous and impossible, but they were quite interesting I must admit. The opinions reflected different mindsets, the female in sharp contrast to male.
So it got me thinking, how do you describe a "good boyfriend" or "good girlfriend"? I have always been of the opinion that you can't describe someone of the opposite sex simply because if you are not a man, then u can't think like a man. Any views you may have of the opposite sex is generally borne out of either experience, public opinion or your imagination, which is essentially a fusion of the qualities of members of your family or close friends who are of the opposite sex. So I think it would be apt for a guy to describe in his own words the qualities he feels the ideal husband or boyfriend should have. All you have to do is look in the mirror and count them off on your fingers, they don't have to be correct, but it helps if you at least have an opinion, so u don't just enter into a relationship trying to be the "ideal dude" when you have no clue what the requirements are. Or perhaps you've read "what women want in an ideal man", and you believe it as the panacea to all problems, well it depends on who wrote the book!
I've always used Adam and Eve as the foundation for all simulations (lol), don't blame me, they were the first couple on the block. Such love and chemistry, Adam woke up from his afternoon daydream to see a stunning beauty lying next to him, the dude didnt even bother to think, he kicked his dog (bingo) away and proposed right there on the spot (to all the ladies, he didnt use a ring, I bet he just plucked a flower and used it instead, lol). Eve didn't waste anytime either, "yes, I do!" she replied, and that was it! It's a pity she ate that apple, now we have royal weddings and 90 carat diamond rings (lol, I ain't complaining though, I love me some Coco). Anyway, how did Adam and Eve's relationship work? The one and only cue to their relationship that I could decipher was that Adam never said NO to Eve, he gave her everything she wanted, took long walks with her, gazed adoringly at her, and ate that apple with so much delight that it got stuck in his throat (next time Adam, get rid of the evidence!)
So what makes a "Good Boyfriend"? Most women would say, "he should be loving and caring". Let me tell you how the male mind deciphers that statement, loving and caring translates to spending money on the girl. That's the easy part, anything that can be bought with money is easy. Like Remix would say, "if money is the only problem you have, then you don't have a problem". Well, true, a good boyfriend should spend money on his girl, ur heart is where your money is, but thatz just a tip of the iceberg. There are some things money can't buy. Add this to the loving and caring checklist. A good boyfriend should...
1. Act like a real man but at the same time be flexible and submissive. Follow your girlfriend to the mall when she asks you to accompany her. If she doesnt ask, offer to accompany her ONLY if you mean it, there's no use trying to be a nice guy and then spend every second glancing at your watch. Enjoy the ride, she's making an effort to look nice, offer constructive criticism to her style and choices and offer your own views, if you have no clue, google it. It took me awhile to figure out the difference between a size 4 and a size 10, but I'm still a work in progress.
2. Know how to cook and clean. Let's not get into the debate of who should cook and who shouldn't. The bottom line is this, when she is pregnant, you'll have to take care of her, so think of it as an internship. And moreover you shouldn't be dependent on anyone for food. That's my opinion, every man ought to know how to cook, simple. Cook for your girl once in awhile, it doesnt matter if it tastes bland, the effort counts. And if it tastes bland, go learn! Google it.
3. Ask for wifey's opinion and listen to her. Well you better start getting used to teamwork. Adam and Eve ate that apple, thatz teamwork right there! What if Adam refused to eat the apple? Maybe Eve would have sewn garments for herself and laughed at Adam, "Yo Adam, go put some clothes on, u r swinging all over the place!" U can imagine the argument.
4. Not be too demanding. If she can't cook, teach her, if you don't know how to cook either, then hush it. She aint ur mum, so don't expect mama put everyday! Patience is a virtue alien to most men. Think like an Arsenal fan, don't be expecting trophies like a Man U or Barcelona fan all the time. Patience, hope and faith, that should be your motto. She'll get better. Go Arsenal!
5. Respect his woman. She is not a man, so don't treat her like one of your guys. Cut out the crass talk and soft yabs. You wouldn't like if it another dude talked to her anyhow, so watch your tone with her. Being a man means backing down from an unnecessary argument, making peace even if she started it, apologizing when you are wrong, accepting her imperfections and admitting your own weaknesses. In my opinion, it takes a king to know how to treat a woman like a queen, if you treat your girlfriend like trash, take a close look at the mirror, you'll most likely see a laborer or a tout staring back at you.
I'm sure you must be wondering if I've been brainwashed by some girl or under the influence of Tequilla (lol). I don't know if I'm a good boyfriend or not, I dey try sha. To be sincere, I just think communication is key for any relationship, intimate or platonic. Give more and expect less in return, and you just might stumble on happiness. I don't solicit for comments, but to all those who read this blog, let me know what you think, drop a comment. And feel free to share the blog/article, my views may be ridiculed by others, but who cares...Hakuna Matata!
October 3, 2011...
Back in the days in the Garden City, there used to be a common phrase amongst the "Pypes" that was rather hilarious. A typical convo would start like this (the translation is in parentheses for the uninitiated:
"Ol boi, u don fool finish" (Dude, u r hopeless)
"Wetin I do?" (What did I do?)
"U mean say u no buy ur malawi anything for Valentine?" (So you didnt get ur girlfriend a Valentine gift?)
"No be so, I dey see my die right now" (It aint like that, I'm broke right now)
"Na u dey carry last for boyfriend of the year" (U r in last place for a "boyfriend of the year" poll)
"Ur father lap!" (This was a basic yab, literal translation, lol)
Dat was in the good old days, when men were still boys and the theory of making relationships work was still a hybrid between trial and error and experience. Fast-forward a couple of years and I really don't know if the world has moved on or if the boys have really matured into men. I've never been of the school of thought that maturity grows with age, there's always an undefined variance to every statistic. I've come across many blogs and articles commenting on the qualities of the "ideal husband/wife". The views have varied from the downright zany to the quite outrageous and impossible, but they were quite interesting I must admit. The opinions reflected different mindsets, the female in sharp contrast to male.
So it got me thinking, how do you describe a "good boyfriend" or "good girlfriend"? I have always been of the opinion that you can't describe someone of the opposite sex simply because if you are not a man, then u can't think like a man. Any views you may have of the opposite sex is generally borne out of either experience, public opinion or your imagination, which is essentially a fusion of the qualities of members of your family or close friends who are of the opposite sex. So I think it would be apt for a guy to describe in his own words the qualities he feels the ideal husband or boyfriend should have. All you have to do is look in the mirror and count them off on your fingers, they don't have to be correct, but it helps if you at least have an opinion, so u don't just enter into a relationship trying to be the "ideal dude" when you have no clue what the requirements are. Or perhaps you've read "what women want in an ideal man", and you believe it as the panacea to all problems, well it depends on who wrote the book!
I've always used Adam and Eve as the foundation for all simulations (lol), don't blame me, they were the first couple on the block. Such love and chemistry, Adam woke up from his afternoon daydream to see a stunning beauty lying next to him, the dude didnt even bother to think, he kicked his dog (bingo) away and proposed right there on the spot (to all the ladies, he didnt use a ring, I bet he just plucked a flower and used it instead, lol). Eve didn't waste anytime either, "yes, I do!" she replied, and that was it! It's a pity she ate that apple, now we have royal weddings and 90 carat diamond rings (lol, I ain't complaining though, I love me some Coco). Anyway, how did Adam and Eve's relationship work? The one and only cue to their relationship that I could decipher was that Adam never said NO to Eve, he gave her everything she wanted, took long walks with her, gazed adoringly at her, and ate that apple with so much delight that it got stuck in his throat (next time Adam, get rid of the evidence!)
So what makes a "Good Boyfriend"? Most women would say, "he should be loving and caring". Let me tell you how the male mind deciphers that statement, loving and caring translates to spending money on the girl. That's the easy part, anything that can be bought with money is easy. Like Remix would say, "if money is the only problem you have, then you don't have a problem". Well, true, a good boyfriend should spend money on his girl, ur heart is where your money is, but thatz just a tip of the iceberg. There are some things money can't buy. Add this to the loving and caring checklist. A good boyfriend should...
1. Act like a real man but at the same time be flexible and submissive. Follow your girlfriend to the mall when she asks you to accompany her. If she doesnt ask, offer to accompany her ONLY if you mean it, there's no use trying to be a nice guy and then spend every second glancing at your watch. Enjoy the ride, she's making an effort to look nice, offer constructive criticism to her style and choices and offer your own views, if you have no clue, google it. It took me awhile to figure out the difference between a size 4 and a size 10, but I'm still a work in progress.
2. Know how to cook and clean. Let's not get into the debate of who should cook and who shouldn't. The bottom line is this, when she is pregnant, you'll have to take care of her, so think of it as an internship. And moreover you shouldn't be dependent on anyone for food. That's my opinion, every man ought to know how to cook, simple. Cook for your girl once in awhile, it doesnt matter if it tastes bland, the effort counts. And if it tastes bland, go learn! Google it.
3. Ask for wifey's opinion and listen to her. Well you better start getting used to teamwork. Adam and Eve ate that apple, thatz teamwork right there! What if Adam refused to eat the apple? Maybe Eve would have sewn garments for herself and laughed at Adam, "Yo Adam, go put some clothes on, u r swinging all over the place!" U can imagine the argument.
4. Not be too demanding. If she can't cook, teach her, if you don't know how to cook either, then hush it. She aint ur mum, so don't expect mama put everyday! Patience is a virtue alien to most men. Think like an Arsenal fan, don't be expecting trophies like a Man U or Barcelona fan all the time. Patience, hope and faith, that should be your motto. She'll get better. Go Arsenal!
5. Respect his woman. She is not a man, so don't treat her like one of your guys. Cut out the crass talk and soft yabs. You wouldn't like if it another dude talked to her anyhow, so watch your tone with her. Being a man means backing down from an unnecessary argument, making peace even if she started it, apologizing when you are wrong, accepting her imperfections and admitting your own weaknesses. In my opinion, it takes a king to know how to treat a woman like a queen, if you treat your girlfriend like trash, take a close look at the mirror, you'll most likely see a laborer or a tout staring back at you.
I'm sure you must be wondering if I've been brainwashed by some girl or under the influence of Tequilla (lol). I don't know if I'm a good boyfriend or not, I dey try sha. To be sincere, I just think communication is key for any relationship, intimate or platonic. Give more and expect less in return, and you just might stumble on happiness. I don't solicit for comments, but to all those who read this blog, let me know what you think, drop a comment. And feel free to share the blog/article, my views may be ridiculed by others, but who cares...Hakuna Matata!
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