“The most dramatic feature of electronic communication is surely its propensity to tempt us into dashing off a message in haste that we repent at leisure. As the emails ping into our inbox we answer them helter-skelter, breathlessly, without pausing to reflect on nuance or tone. As a consequence, misunderstandings often arise…”
“Today's electronic forms of communication may lack that emotional depth but they do enable us to connect more speedily and efficiently than I at least could manage with pen and ink. Still, when we take advantage of them, we ought always to heed (Virginia) Woolf's warning, never to write carelessly. And, if we can, at least count to 10, and read over what we have written, before we press "send"…
Lisa Jardine (BBC magazine)
I came across this article during my morning ritual of navigating the BBC website. I’ve always often wondered which is more dangerous; spoken words or unspoken words. The danger with spoken words is easily identifiable, it is almost impossible to take them back once the chords of the letters slip off the tongue and fly free. The split mini second or so it takes to travel and resonate the eardrums of the recipient is inadequate for the human brain to stop and process the impact of the words, before considering whether to reel it back in or not. The effect is almost intriguing to watch…
Alima’s lips formed into the words “I love you”…time moved in slow motion as the words rolled off her lips. It was easy to see the letters as they floated in the brisk winter breeze, almost teasing in flight, like the carefree motion of a drunk butterfly in summer, slowly the words found its way to Dmitriy’s ears and settled, letter by letter, till his eardrums tingled with the sensation, his eyes slowly lit up as his brain broke down the meaning of the words…He held her in his arms as their lips met…
It doesnt always work out like described above, beautiful words may get you peaches and cream, on the other hand, a reckless word can elicit a completely different reaction: tears, a slap, raised voices, maybe a headbutt, lol. Unspoken words are in a different league entirely, even more dangerous than spoken words. Some call it the silent treatment; others refer to it as zero-communication. Whichever name you give it; unspoken words often serve as the trigger to a reckless spoken word or a major misunderstanding. In the absence of words, people tend to read meaning into every action; it is natural, unless you belong to the IDGAF clique. How then do you strike a reasonable balance between talking too much and not talking at all? Emails, SMS and BBMs are like rapid fire bullets, coming at you like a swarm of excited bees.
Since the advent of electronic communication (Blackberrys being the chief culprit), our lives have been transformed from the normal sedate pace to a NASCAR speedtrack. It is so easy to hold multiple simultaneous convos with different people, your brain-cells multitasking and trying to align your words to suit the intended recipient.
Just after you send “I love you” to Cassie, you send “You suck” to Jerome, and then “LMAO” to Yvonne and then “U dey mad?” to Okon and “What are you wearing?” to Cynthia. Cassie replies with a “love you too”, Jerome with “your papa!”, Yvonne with a BBM smiley, Okon doesn’t reply and Cynthia replies with “I don’t understand”…Okon replies about 2 minutes later with “Bros, I’m straight”, then you realize that somehow you switched Okon and Cynthia’s messages. U try to call Cynthia but she won’t pick your call…the saga continues.
The art of letter writing has been lost, words have become empty, emotions replaced by emoticons, and love has become efficient and cold. Whatever happened to the love letters of the 90s?
Dear Nkem,
How are you? It has been months since I last saw you and I keep dreaming about you all the time. My friends say that you must have cast a spell on me, my response to them is that my heart belongs to you, so no spells are necessary. It is very cold here, the oyibo people say that this year’s winter is mild, I find that hard to believe. Each night, I curl up like a little boy under my blanket and slowly drift off to sleep, it almost feels as if I can reach out and touch you in my dreams. Your body scent still lingers in my mind and I can still taste your lips and feel the smooth curves of your body. Waking up in the morning is always hard for me but I have to work so I can take care of you. I remember you said that you don’t want us to live in the village; even though I’ve told you numerous times that I wouldn’t mind farming to take care of you.
I hope Kachi is taking good care of you. I will write her also to thank her. Make sure you eat well, you have to feed ‘our’ body. I’ve been checking up the price of goats and cows as I told you, the prices are not so cheap but I’ll keep working hard to raise the money. Don’t worry about the village umu nna, when the time is right I will speak to them, even if they demand 10 cows, we’ll always find a way.
I have to go now. It is getting rather late here. It has been long since I wrote by candle light, but they never take light here so I decided to turn off the lights and pretend that I’m still home.
Till I see you again…Kachifo!
Your loving boyfriend,
NB: It may take a month for this letter to get to you, even though my words may be delayed or lost in transit, I’ll always love you.
How about that for old school writing? Let me know your thoughts! My recurrent new year resolution is to talk less, it never seems to work. I've been told to stop trying it :)
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Pacoliso....Chapter 4..."Aluta...b4 Paco"
The term Aluta Continua really didnt hold much meaning to a 200-level Engineering Student. Life revolved around attending classes, praying for good grades and hoping that the dreaded spectre of an ASUU strike never reared its head again. The last strike was brutal, it lasted 6 months and had even the most hard-core atheists praying for divine intervention. For Samurai, the strike had been spent poring over books, making promises to God in exchange for an end to the strike and daydreaming about life outside the shores of 9ja. So when the strike was eventually called off, his joy knew no bounds. He never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would miss the chaos of Aminu Kano Hall or the useless banter the hall residents exchanged to pass time.
Life progressed smoothly till one faithful day, when the stubborn horns of "Aluta" popped up. The day started off just like any regular day, waking up to cries of "Akara and bread" as child-hawkers announced their wares down the corridors, a mix of different soundtracks ranging from Celine Dion to Backstreet Boiz to gospel music...The Aminu Kano Hall Block C residents portrayed a mix of the good, bad and the downright ridiculous. Around noon, word quickly spread around campus that there was a student demonstration/uprising. No one could say with certainty what the problem was, but for some odd reason, the Student Union Government (SUG) was protesting some random issue. In the spirit of Aluta, the SUG president had gingered students to march to the VC's lodge to protest. Before you could whistle a tune, the students had gathered infront of the VC's lodge carrying a casket and proceeded to burn an effigy infront of his abode.
In typical dictatorship fashion, the VC ordered that the school be shut down and directed that ALL students vacate the hostel before the break of dawn the next day. As expected, the Aluta singers vanished faster than a unicorn on the streets of Rumuola, one second you could hear their voices, the next all you could see was smoke tendrils. Anyway, the residents of Aminu Kano Hall laughed at the VC's directive. "Vacate to where"?, they asked, AKH was home! Moreover there was a soccer game between Nigeria and Brazil that evening. People swore to resist and stay till the rapture took place if necessary, no threat of police brutality was going to intimidate them.
As the rays of the sun fizzled out, Samurai noticed that a few residents had started to slink out of the Halls like vampires before sunrise. But the mood in the hostel was still party-like. There were numerous open pots of food with their owners hovering around with concentration and puzzled/ecstatic looks on their faces depending on the taste of their concotion. By nightfall, the student population had reduced by 50%. Being an out-of-state student, Samurai didn't have any other alternatives apart from Aminu Kano Hall. He had a cousin living in Woji, but he didnt see any reason why he had to leave, school was still rocking afterall. That night, the disappointed residents watched Brazil wallop Nigeria by 3 goals, whilst some argued about what went wrong, others turned up their CD players and blasted music...till the last stars in the sky faded. They laughed at the VC's threat, nothing had happened since the eviction decree, "professional noisemaker" they labelled him in derision...whilst dancing to Afrobeat tunes
The next morning Samurai woke up to news that Armed Soldiers were camped right at the school gate. At first he didnt believe it till he walked outside his room and noticed that "JJ Chopinson" was holding court in front of Wing E. J-J was animated in his description...
"Nna men, the MOPOL (mobile police) just full everywhere. Dem carry gun and dem no dey smile at all"
"But we go show dem pepper today, dem no fit try any nonsense!"
"Greatest Nigerian Students, dem no fit comot us from we house, dem go hear am today"
Samurai wasn't too convinced. While the residens tempers and anger boiled at the audacity of the soldiers, Samurai quickly packed a small bag. There were talks about joining forces with the residents of the other halls: Kwame Nkrumah Hall extension, Nelson Mandela Mall and the Medical Hostel hall, to protest the presence of the soldiers. While the Aluta warlords were still marshalling out their strategy, the stampede of running feet could be heard building up. Samurai couldn't recall how things transpired next, the first soldier came bursting through the gates of Aminu Kano, wielding a horse whip, and all hell broke loose...The nimble footed took off with speed that would have surprised Usain Bolt, some in boxer shorts, others fully dressed, the wall was vaulted with ease like it was the Olympics... It was madness! Residents running with pots of soup and stew... A few rooms away, a resident tried to shield his pot of food from the whips of a soldier, he looked ready to die in defense of his food, finally he succumbed to the fury of the whip and fled. Within 30minutes, the resistance had been broken, the residents gathered in small groups to lick their wounds and plot their next move. Every uprising needs a hero, the aluta warlords had long fled, JJ Chopinson was no where to be found.
Walking along the streets of Choba with his few valued possessions in his small carry-on bag, Samurai realized that his life in Aminu Kano was ticking to an end. He ran into Shimon on the road with a group of other friends, they had escaped from Kwame Nkrumah Hall before the soldiers arrived, the plans to move off-campus were laid during that period...
Life progressed smoothly till one faithful day, when the stubborn horns of "Aluta" popped up. The day started off just like any regular day, waking up to cries of "Akara and bread" as child-hawkers announced their wares down the corridors, a mix of different soundtracks ranging from Celine Dion to Backstreet Boiz to gospel music...The Aminu Kano Hall Block C residents portrayed a mix of the good, bad and the downright ridiculous. Around noon, word quickly spread around campus that there was a student demonstration/uprising. No one could say with certainty what the problem was, but for some odd reason, the Student Union Government (SUG) was protesting some random issue. In the spirit of Aluta, the SUG president had gingered students to march to the VC's lodge to protest. Before you could whistle a tune, the students had gathered infront of the VC's lodge carrying a casket and proceeded to burn an effigy infront of his abode.
In typical dictatorship fashion, the VC ordered that the school be shut down and directed that ALL students vacate the hostel before the break of dawn the next day. As expected, the Aluta singers vanished faster than a unicorn on the streets of Rumuola, one second you could hear their voices, the next all you could see was smoke tendrils. Anyway, the residents of Aminu Kano Hall laughed at the VC's directive. "Vacate to where"?, they asked, AKH was home! Moreover there was a soccer game between Nigeria and Brazil that evening. People swore to resist and stay till the rapture took place if necessary, no threat of police brutality was going to intimidate them.
As the rays of the sun fizzled out, Samurai noticed that a few residents had started to slink out of the Halls like vampires before sunrise. But the mood in the hostel was still party-like. There were numerous open pots of food with their owners hovering around with concentration and puzzled/ecstatic looks on their faces depending on the taste of their concotion. By nightfall, the student population had reduced by 50%. Being an out-of-state student, Samurai didn't have any other alternatives apart from Aminu Kano Hall. He had a cousin living in Woji, but he didnt see any reason why he had to leave, school was still rocking afterall. That night, the disappointed residents watched Brazil wallop Nigeria by 3 goals, whilst some argued about what went wrong, others turned up their CD players and blasted music...till the last stars in the sky faded. They laughed at the VC's threat, nothing had happened since the eviction decree, "professional noisemaker" they labelled him in derision...whilst dancing to Afrobeat tunes
The next morning Samurai woke up to news that Armed Soldiers were camped right at the school gate. At first he didnt believe it till he walked outside his room and noticed that "JJ Chopinson" was holding court in front of Wing E. J-J was animated in his description...
"Nna men, the MOPOL (mobile police) just full everywhere. Dem carry gun and dem no dey smile at all"
"But we go show dem pepper today, dem no fit try any nonsense!"
"Greatest Nigerian Students, dem no fit comot us from we house, dem go hear am today"
Samurai wasn't too convinced. While the residens tempers and anger boiled at the audacity of the soldiers, Samurai quickly packed a small bag. There were talks about joining forces with the residents of the other halls: Kwame Nkrumah Hall extension, Nelson Mandela Mall and the Medical Hostel hall, to protest the presence of the soldiers. While the Aluta warlords were still marshalling out their strategy, the stampede of running feet could be heard building up. Samurai couldn't recall how things transpired next, the first soldier came bursting through the gates of Aminu Kano, wielding a horse whip, and all hell broke loose...The nimble footed took off with speed that would have surprised Usain Bolt, some in boxer shorts, others fully dressed, the wall was vaulted with ease like it was the Olympics... It was madness! Residents running with pots of soup and stew... A few rooms away, a resident tried to shield his pot of food from the whips of a soldier, he looked ready to die in defense of his food, finally he succumbed to the fury of the whip and fled. Within 30minutes, the resistance had been broken, the residents gathered in small groups to lick their wounds and plot their next move. Every uprising needs a hero, the aluta warlords had long fled, JJ Chopinson was no where to be found.
Walking along the streets of Choba with his few valued possessions in his small carry-on bag, Samurai realized that his life in Aminu Kano was ticking to an end. He ran into Shimon on the road with a group of other friends, they had escaped from Kwame Nkrumah Hall before the soldiers arrived, the plans to move off-campus were laid during that period...
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Pirates of West Africa: Liquid Gold
It is almost impossible to refrain from commenting on the current chaos going on in Nigeria, though I have observed that most people are clueless about the facts. The beautiful thing about being Nigerian is that everyone is an expert on all matters ranging from national security to economic issues, so in the midst of all the arguments, no one really listens to any one, the end result is chaos. Let me paint a little picture about the science of oil, this is for the non-engineers and non-scientific people out there who have no clue what the facts are, but believe deep down in their hearts that something is wrong...You are right, something is wrong and it has been wrong for years. I have to admit that I'm neither a Petroleum Engineer nor an expert on oil related issues, I'm simply an average minded person, a common man.
Background
Crude oil is liquid gold, pure and simple. I bet you didnt visualize that as a starting line. I'll try to keep the science as simple as possible. Crude Oil is extracted from the ground (just like gold, duh!)and then refined and seperated. The key end products are Petrol(gas/gasoline as my Yankee people would call it), diesel kerosene, jet fuel and a few other components (let us stick to the energy sources). Just as Gold comes in carats, Crude Oil also comes in different grades (levelz dey!). The 'lighter' and 'sweeter' the oil is, the better. The logic is simple, Light Crude Oil has low density (higher petrol yield), while Sweet Crude Oil has very little sulphur (cleaner, and less harmful impact on the environment during processing, requires less refining). On the other end of the spectrum, you have heavy oil, and sour oil (opposite to light and sweet), you get the logic right? Itz like comparing Packet Fufu Powder sold at Makola (Iyan Ado) to raw cassava sticks harvested from my village. Both end up as pounded yam on my plate, but the raw cassava sticks require serious gyming before it can be transformed to food.
Logistics
The top 3 oil producing countries are the Saudis, the Russians and the Americans (surprised right?), China is no 5. Oil producing used in the context of the quantity of crude oil that is extracted from their reserves. Naija is ranked about 12th or 15th, not so sure, but our position fluctuates depending on whether MEND is on vacation or not. In terms of Exporting Crude Oil, the top 3 are the Saudis, Russia, Iran...Naija is between 6th and 8th (fluctuates as usual), USA aint on the list (they barely export nada baby!, u'll soon see why). In terms of Import, the top consumers are...you guessed it, USA, followed by China and Japan. USA consumes roughly 20% of the world's oil. Here's what you don't know, Naija's oil is mostly 'light and sweet' and we are the LARGEST producers of 'sweet' oil in OPEC, and remember that Saudi Arabi is a member of OPEC. We are sweeter than the Saudis! yummy! The USA is the largest importer of Naija crude oil,#fact.
Economics
Now I didnt study economics in school, but my dad is an accountant and I am Igbo (lol), even though people say I am too generous (maybe I'm just a radical). The price of 'gas' (forgive me, but saying petrol is tiring, lol) is dependent on a few factors, the key ones being the price of crude oil, the cost of refining, distribution and transportation costs and taxes. The geographical location of the oil reserves are key, if you have to import your crude oil from far then it costs more to transport, crude oil prices fluctuate with every Boko Haram attack or middle-east tension, the cost of refining rises with the grade of oil imported. The US of A utilizes about 75% of the refined crude for fuel (transportation), about 2% for electricity production (shocked right?) and the rest for industrial purposes (pharmeceuticals, plastics et al). Outside the US of A, especially in the oil producing countries (Naija), it is almost a 50-50 split between using the refined crude for transportation and burning the crude for electricity. Why? Because for some odd reason, we don't explore any other alternative means for electricity generation. Hydro (ah, rainy season has ended, water don finish for dam), Nuclear (ah, we can't even handle bombs), Solar (haba, let's not even go there), biomass, biofuels (duh, what is that?)
Subsidy
Currently the most abused word of 2012. You don't need to google it to understand it, from a business perspective, it simply means any form of 'assistance' provided to a biz, normally by the Govt, to prevent its decline either as a result of low profit or to prevent a spike in the price of its products. You see, Naija produces crude oil, then exports it, (making alot of money) then we import it back (because we don't have functional refineries, don't ask me why). So when crude oil prices go up because of Mutallab, we make more money, then the rising cost of crude oil increases the price of refining and importing the refined crude, so we spend more. Since oil is our birthright (as some of my folks in the South normally say, lol), we the masses shouldnt pay much for it. How can a farmer go to a supermarket to buy fufu powder? Taboo! So our weak Government, seeing that the only thing the commonm man can benefit from our stupendous wealth is cheap gas, do all that they can to ensure that the gas prices remain fixed despite all the fluctuation in crude prices. So they 'subsidize' it by paying the marketers and importers, thus transferring our wealth to the marketers and importers. Heard that it cost $8 billion last year, the government bears the cost of it all. Now the subsidy keeps the people content, but it incurs large economic costs. You see, I don't recall where it states in our yearly budget that we set aside $8 billion for subsidy last year. The other funny thing is that the marketers are also people in government. Then also millions of barrels of oil are being smuggled out of the country daily, by who...maybe Pirates of the Carribean, Jack Sparrow where are you?!
Conclusion
Why do we import fuel? Because we don't have refineries. Why don't we have functional refineries. Why ? I really don't know the answer to that. Okay, so if we can burn crude oil to generate electricity, why don't we have light? (power). I don't know, maybe we didnt burn the crude oil in the first place to generate the electricity. So what happened to the crude oil then ? Maybe it was smuggled illegally. By who? Ask Johnny Depp!
My 2 cents
Now that you have a clearer picture (I hope, lol), join the fray! What is the way forward, what should we do? You can't sit down and say it aint your business, when M.I., Ice Prince and all the other Nigerian musicians quit singing club hits and start farming in order to make a living, you wouldnt have any beats to groove to, lol #justkidding! Our MCs have M.Scs(Naeto C) and PhDs (Levelz) nowadays!
The subsidy ought to be removed, it should have been removed years ago. But then our refineries should have been working to full capacity since the 90s. Numerous contracts have been awarded to fix the refineries, yet no results. So if the refineries don't work, then the subsidy should stay in place...till the refineries work, then we would not have to import anymore. Our Government just transferred the burden of years of gross mismanagement and sheer incompetency to the masses to bear. I hear China wants to build refineries in Nigeria, I wonder what the Americans have to say about that...#justsaying
Background
Crude oil is liquid gold, pure and simple. I bet you didnt visualize that as a starting line. I'll try to keep the science as simple as possible. Crude Oil is extracted from the ground (just like gold, duh!)and then refined and seperated. The key end products are Petrol(gas/gasoline as my Yankee people would call it), diesel kerosene, jet fuel and a few other components (let us stick to the energy sources). Just as Gold comes in carats, Crude Oil also comes in different grades (levelz dey!). The 'lighter' and 'sweeter' the oil is, the better. The logic is simple, Light Crude Oil has low density (higher petrol yield), while Sweet Crude Oil has very little sulphur (cleaner, and less harmful impact on the environment during processing, requires less refining). On the other end of the spectrum, you have heavy oil, and sour oil (opposite to light and sweet), you get the logic right? Itz like comparing Packet Fufu Powder sold at Makola (Iyan Ado) to raw cassava sticks harvested from my village. Both end up as pounded yam on my plate, but the raw cassava sticks require serious gyming before it can be transformed to food.
Logistics
The top 3 oil producing countries are the Saudis, the Russians and the Americans (surprised right?), China is no 5. Oil producing used in the context of the quantity of crude oil that is extracted from their reserves. Naija is ranked about 12th or 15th, not so sure, but our position fluctuates depending on whether MEND is on vacation or not. In terms of Exporting Crude Oil, the top 3 are the Saudis, Russia, Iran...Naija is between 6th and 8th (fluctuates as usual), USA aint on the list (they barely export nada baby!, u'll soon see why). In terms of Import, the top consumers are...you guessed it, USA, followed by China and Japan. USA consumes roughly 20% of the world's oil. Here's what you don't know, Naija's oil is mostly 'light and sweet' and we are the LARGEST producers of 'sweet' oil in OPEC, and remember that Saudi Arabi is a member of OPEC. We are sweeter than the Saudis! yummy! The USA is the largest importer of Naija crude oil,#fact.
Economics
Now I didnt study economics in school, but my dad is an accountant and I am Igbo (lol), even though people say I am too generous (maybe I'm just a radical). The price of 'gas' (forgive me, but saying petrol is tiring, lol) is dependent on a few factors, the key ones being the price of crude oil, the cost of refining, distribution and transportation costs and taxes. The geographical location of the oil reserves are key, if you have to import your crude oil from far then it costs more to transport, crude oil prices fluctuate with every Boko Haram attack or middle-east tension, the cost of refining rises with the grade of oil imported. The US of A utilizes about 75% of the refined crude for fuel (transportation), about 2% for electricity production (shocked right?) and the rest for industrial purposes (pharmeceuticals, plastics et al). Outside the US of A, especially in the oil producing countries (Naija), it is almost a 50-50 split between using the refined crude for transportation and burning the crude for electricity. Why? Because for some odd reason, we don't explore any other alternative means for electricity generation. Hydro (ah, rainy season has ended, water don finish for dam), Nuclear (ah, we can't even handle bombs), Solar (haba, let's not even go there), biomass, biofuels (duh, what is that?)
Subsidy
Currently the most abused word of 2012. You don't need to google it to understand it, from a business perspective, it simply means any form of 'assistance' provided to a biz, normally by the Govt, to prevent its decline either as a result of low profit or to prevent a spike in the price of its products. You see, Naija produces crude oil, then exports it, (making alot of money) then we import it back (because we don't have functional refineries, don't ask me why). So when crude oil prices go up because of Mutallab, we make more money, then the rising cost of crude oil increases the price of refining and importing the refined crude, so we spend more. Since oil is our birthright (as some of my folks in the South normally say, lol), we the masses shouldnt pay much for it. How can a farmer go to a supermarket to buy fufu powder? Taboo! So our weak Government, seeing that the only thing the commonm man can benefit from our stupendous wealth is cheap gas, do all that they can to ensure that the gas prices remain fixed despite all the fluctuation in crude prices. So they 'subsidize' it by paying the marketers and importers, thus transferring our wealth to the marketers and importers. Heard that it cost $8 billion last year, the government bears the cost of it all. Now the subsidy keeps the people content, but it incurs large economic costs. You see, I don't recall where it states in our yearly budget that we set aside $8 billion for subsidy last year. The other funny thing is that the marketers are also people in government. Then also millions of barrels of oil are being smuggled out of the country daily, by who...maybe Pirates of the Carribean, Jack Sparrow where are you?!
Conclusion
Why do we import fuel? Because we don't have refineries. Why don't we have functional refineries. Why ? I really don't know the answer to that. Okay, so if we can burn crude oil to generate electricity, why don't we have light? (power). I don't know, maybe we didnt burn the crude oil in the first place to generate the electricity. So what happened to the crude oil then ? Maybe it was smuggled illegally. By who? Ask Johnny Depp!
My 2 cents
Now that you have a clearer picture (I hope, lol), join the fray! What is the way forward, what should we do? You can't sit down and say it aint your business, when M.I., Ice Prince and all the other Nigerian musicians quit singing club hits and start farming in order to make a living, you wouldnt have any beats to groove to, lol #justkidding! Our MCs have M.Scs(Naeto C) and PhDs (Levelz) nowadays!
The subsidy ought to be removed, it should have been removed years ago. But then our refineries should have been working to full capacity since the 90s. Numerous contracts have been awarded to fix the refineries, yet no results. So if the refineries don't work, then the subsidy should stay in place...till the refineries work, then we would not have to import anymore. Our Government just transferred the burden of years of gross mismanagement and sheer incompetency to the masses to bear. I hear China wants to build refineries in Nigeria, I wonder what the Americans have to say about that...#justsaying
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Nomadic thots...
"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...
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, 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…
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